by Kirk Zurosky
“Is this a stable, or a way station?” I blurted out. “Who else is coming through the stable door—our old friend the Winter Witch, perhaps?”
“You would like that wouldn’t you, Sirius?” the Howler exclaimed with a familiar roll of her eyes. “I had pleasantly forgotten that you and Contessa share that same not funny sense of humor.”
Contessa stiffened, looked at her mother, and said nothing. I remembered that she said that they had not parted on the best of terms. The air grew cold in the stable, and the Winter Witch had indeed walked through the stable door—at least in spirit. “Come here, sweetie, and give Mommy a hug,” the Howler said. Contessa folded her arms across her chest, and the makings of a snarl formed on her lips.
“Is this the treatment I get from a pup I nursed at my teats?” the Howler said, looking to the heavens.
“Been there did that,” I muttered under my breath. “And it got me chained to a wall.”
Contessa looked at her mother, and the snarl became a full out growl. “Our last good-bye was not so pleasant, perhaps you forgot this fact, Mother.”
“Indeed, perhaps you have forgotten that I carried you in my body and nearly died giving birth to you,” the Howler retorted, ever a lover of the power of guilt. But Contessa was apparently used to playing this game with her.
“I didn’t choose to be born, Mother,” she said. “That is on you. And your Pack.”
“Well said. Time is indeed hardening you,” the Howler continued, sounding almost pleased. She was a myriad of messed up emotional baggage. No wonder our union had been doomed from the beginning. “You would do well to respect the Pack. Oh well, you cannot run from your destiny just because your father’s vampire blood runs through your veins.”
“She controls her own destiny,” I said. “You, and your Pack, have no say as to what she does, and who she is.”
The Howler laughed. “She’s pretty quiet over there, Sirius,” she said. “I think our girl is having doubts about who and what she is, and that is fine for now. She cannot deny her Pack lineage. It’s as much a part of her as trolling—pun intended, Oliver—the hussies is for you!”
I rolled my eyes. “We have a job to do here, and that job is unfortunately together,” I said. “So why don’t you pack all of that Pack nonsense in, and let’s just move on?”
“Fine,” the Howler assented, looking to Contessa, and clearly not giving up on asserting that she was still the alpha. “Perhaps I can get a handshake from my big girl?”
“Sure, Mother,” Contessa said coldly, extending her hand. “A handshake it is.”
Oliver and I braced for a fight to end all fights as they shook hands, and I exhaled with relief when nothing happened. “Good golly, Contessa,” I exclaimed as Contessa came over to stand with me. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Is everything all right? Why are you not in Oxford?”
“Everything is fine in Oxford, Father,” she said. “But Hedley sent me with some news.”
“Pray tell, child, spit it out,” the Howler said in an annoyed tone. “You heard your father. We have a job to do, and I need to know if it affects my mission here.”
Contessa glared at her mother with a look that projected “go procreate with yourself and expire,” just like one the Howler could project. “Go ahead, Contessa,” I said. Her mother was ever the impatient one. She really was a bitch. And a narcissistic one to boot. Yeah, I know, pot meet kettle, kettle meet pot—whatever.
“The one that you call the creeper has been spotted in London by one of Hedley’s spies, whom you know as the Doorman,” Contessa continued. “And the Doorman believes that you are his target.”
“Well that certainly complicates things,” I said, taking a moment to explain to Oliver and the Howler my run-in with the creeper in Florence and the mysteriously black poison that tipped his arrows. I chose not to mention Hedley’s theory about the basilisk poison. “But what we don’t know is if he is working with the Thief or simply wants me dead.”
“What a life you lead,” the Howler said. “Just so normal to have a hooded assassin trying to kill you with a poison even the Master of Masters can’t figure out. And to think I had children with you.”
“Mother!” Contessa shouted. “Enough!”
“No, Contessa, it is not enough,” the Howler growled. “Because if the creeper knows your dear old dad is here to protect the Moon of Madrid during the coronation, he is going to know exactly where to be to try and kill him.”
“And that will bring the creeper to the coronation and put Cornelia and the Moon in even more jeopardy,” I interrupted. “Isn’t that so? Makes your job a bit harder, hmmm?”
“You always were a master of the obvious,” the Howler replied. “But I am sworn to protect the Moon of Madrid. And that being said, Sirius, I view you as a liability. And not for the first time either.”
“Well, I view you as a colossal pain in the ass,” I said, smiling with pleasure as her eyes narrowed with barely contained anger. “But that doesn’t change either one of our missions. I have to catch a Thief, and you have to protect the Moon of Madrid, and somehow we are just going to have to find a way to work together, aren’t we?”
“That is shockingly mature of you, Sirius,” Oliver said. “What is your plan?”
“Yes, Father,” Contessa said. “What are you thinking?”
The Howler opened her mouth but closed it quickly. Even the rabid wolf knows when to bite its tongue. I could tell she did not like the fact that our daughter was deferring to me. “It would arouse even more suspicion if I do not continue to travel with this ponderously slow Oxford delegation. So I will continue with them and stay at our designated inn with the rest of my team until the coronation. Since I have an invitation to the coronation, I can get inside Westminster Abbey well in advance of Cornelia and the ceremony to see if I see anything unusual.”
“You have an invitation?” the Howler said incredulously.
“Yes, don’t you?”
“No,” she growled angrily. “I do not.”
“Well then,” I said, clenching my jaw to prevent the broad smile that threatened to spread across my face. If she could not be inside the abbey, how then had she intended to guard Cornelia from any harm? I remembered the creeper’s penchant for rooftop chases, and thus knew where we needed the Howler to be. “I guess you will be the one to guard the rooftops and alert Oliver, who will be stationed right outside the abbey that—”
“Oh no,” Oliver said. “I have an invitation to the coronation, too, so I will be inside with you.”
I could see Contessa smiling from ear to ear. I looked at her disapprovingly. “So, you are thinking my dear that I do not get to send you back to Oxford, huh?”
“To your great chagrin,” she replied. “That is indeed the case.”
“London is not like Oxford,” I lectured paternally. “It is filled with many that would seek to capture you and sell you to the highest bidder. London is practically the prostitution capital of the world. We will manage just fine without you. You will be safer in Oxford because we cannot be there every step of the way to protect you.”
Contessa’s face flushed with anger, but before she could say anything, the Howler laid a maternal hand on her arm. “I cannot believe I am actually saying this,” she said, clearly shocked. “But I agree with your father. You will return to Oxford, and we will indeed manage just fine without you.”
I braced for Contessa’s inevitable burst of angry tears before she agreed with her parents and headed dutifully back to Oxford. But this would be the last time I would underestimate my daughter’s resolve and toughness. She looked from me to her mother and back to me. “Parents,” she said. “I do appreciate the speech. I really do. If only my sisters were here to see you two agreeing with each other, because I am fairly certain they are not going to believe me! But allow me to give you both
a little dose of reality.”
“Contessa—” I started.
“Father, please,” Contessa said. “Hear me out, and if you still think I should return to Oxford, I will respect your wishes.”
“Fine,” I agreed.
“I don’t think so,” the Howler said. “You don’t talk to me that way. You hear me?”
Contessa bristled—decades of built up anger finally bubbling to the surface. “Perhaps, if you had spent more time raising me instead of shipping me off to Granddaddy so you could put all your focus into making Father’s life a living hell, maybe I would show you more respect.”
“Why I ought to . . .” The Howler stepped forward with her hand raised, but Contessa stood her ground.
“Ought to do what, dear Mother?” Contessa said. “Do you think I don’t remember all those men going in and out of your bedchambers? You know, the ones you said were giving you weapons lessons? I sure wish I could have blocked out the sound of you howling as they were all apparently using their weapons on you!”
Oliver just stood there, his mouth wide open, until he put a big hand over it. I could not help but smile as the Howler dropped her hand, rendered wonderfully speechless. It was no surprise that the Howler had not been faithful while she had me imprisoned at the bottom of Peel Castle during our marriage. She was probably getting her revenge for the fact that I had been with the Winter Witch before we got married. I looked over at the Howler, who did not meet my gaze as she was still focused on Contessa. I guess I was not surprised at her actions, but I would have been a whole lot angrier had our time in Immortal Divorce Court turned out differently. I owed her nothing, and had no words for her. Really, I felt bad that Contessa knew her mother was a liar and a whore—knowledge no child needs to have. I sighed deeply, and motioned for Contessa to continue.
“First of all, I am way too old for most of those lecherous bastards to even be interested in me,” she said. “I am an old maid by mortal standards, and heck, even by immortal ones! Second, Father, do you remember how well I fought at Sardinia? Well, I am even better now—faster, stronger, and smarter.”
“But you don’t know the lengths men will go to in order to try and have you,” the Howler protested.
“Don’t I?” Contessa said, pulling a necklace of what looked to be dried phalluses from her leathers. “Don’t I?”
“My necklace,” the Howler cried. “Where did you get that? I have been looking for that for a hundred years!”
“It is not yours, Mother.”
I gulped. “Okay,” I said, rather enjoying the bewildered look on the Howler’s face. “I am convinced, and I think your mother is satisfied as well. Welcome to the team.”
“Great,” Contessa said, a broad smile lighting up her face. “I will go ahead of you with Mother and Oliver and liberate a nice young soldier from his uniform, then take his place and stand outside the abbey. Mother can signal me if she sees anything unusual, and I can come in and let you and Oliver know that something is wrong.”
“And just how are you going to manage all of that?” I scolded.
She squeezed my arm and smiled innocently. “Ancient vampire assassin secret,” she said. “If I told you, I would have to kill you.”
“Funny,” I said, eyeing the phallus necklace. “You know, maybe you should just wear that thing out in the open like your mother used to do. Might keep you innocent for a little while longer.”
“Father,” Contessa answered. “You are assuming I am still a virgin, aren’t you?”
“You better be,” the Howler recovered. “That maidenhead is for the Pack!”
“Why yes, yes I am assuming you are a virgin,” I said, turning to the Howler. “Will you give that Pack nonsense a rest?”
“And when I am married?” Contessa continued.
“Yes, still then.”
“And have my own children?”
“Yes, even then.”
“Really now, Father.”
As perturbed as I was, the Howler was even more agitated, wearing her angst on her face as we left the barn and headed toward the inn. “I am ready for a nice undisturbed sleep,” I announced. I looked to the Howler. “Oh, are you staying here? I thought the stables were your accommodations.”
“You are as about as funny as a dagger to the heart,” the Howler replied. “Reminds me of our first meeting, which ended rather satisfyingly. Don’t you remember? You want to reminisce with me in your bedchambers for old time’s sake?”
“No, I would rather sleep with Oliver,” I replied.
“Oh, so you have gone troll, have you?” the Howler replied. “Is it true they are always hard as a rock?”
“You people are really messed up,” Oliver said. “I bid you good night.”
“Me too,” Contessa said. “You two are impossible.”
“It’s her,” I said.
“Him all the way,” the Howler replied. “Contessa, can you tarry for a minute? I would like to have a word with you.”
“My maidenhead, which may or may not be still present, and its use for the Pack’s warped designs is not a conversation that we are going to have, Mother,” Contessa said.
“How about an apology?” the Howler said with what seemed to be sincerity.
I looked to Contessa, and she nodded that it was okay, and I reluctantly left her and the Howler on the steps of the inn. As Oliver and I made our way inside, all my sharp ears could hear were unintelligible whispers between mother and daughter. Should I turn around and rescue Contessa? I hoped the Howler actually was uttering words of apology, but with her, you never really knew. She really did deserve a Contessa punch in the tits.
Chapter 9
Since we had talked until nearly sunup, I found neither harlot nor randy elf waiting outside my door, and managed to slip into my room undetected and sleep soundly for a few hours, until the noise of the caravan assembling outside roused me to my feet. I was still a little worried about Contessa being on this mission, but realized everything she had said to me and her mother was true. What words had her mother said to her last night after I had left? Did it matter? Of course it did, since the Howler could be pushing the Pack agenda on Contessa. But just maybe the Howler was focused on her duty to protect the Moon of Madrid and was proud of who Contessa had become. Maybe their talk last night was to show that she knew Contessa could handle any and all comers. Why did I have a feeling those were wishful thoughts? Ah yes, because it was the Howler I was thinking about.
I knew that I had nothing to worry about if Contessa were in a fight. After all, in Sardinia she had taken on a kraken, hellhounds, and other demonic beasts and done just fine. And now she was even more capable. She had been trained by the best, and the reality was that perhaps she was even a more fine-tuned killing machine than I these days. But her mother waged war with weapons you could not see, like guilt, obligation, and maternal pressure.
I ventured down to breakfast and found a disappointed Breeze along with the Professor. Now was probably a good time to get them assigned to their duties at the coronation. I had decided to not mention to them that the Howler, Oliver, and now Contessa would also be acting in concert with me.
“Sirius,” Breeze said. “I came looking for you in your room to have some in-depth and probing conversation, but you never came to the door. Were you out somewhere?”
I was confident that I knew the kind of probing she had in mind. Certainly, her making herself so available to me made her less attractive, and frankly there was a part of me—not my phallus of course—that did not trust her. She, I decided, was going to be on a need to know basis. “Why no I was not,” I exclaimed. “I was just in my room relaxing with a nice bath. I guess I did not hear your knock.” I realized this was the wrong thing to say, as she began tweaking her own nipples through her blouse, clearly thinking impure thoughts about me.
“Well, I knocked pretty
loudly,” Breeze said, her hand moving to rub herself. “Oh, we could have shared a tub.”
“Maybe you had the wrong room,” I said, enjoying the show. “I am pretty sure I would have heard you.” She climaxed, knocking over her porridge, which clattered to the floor, looking unconcerned and quite satisfied all the while. Clearly, I would have to assign her a task that kept her hands occupied.
“It was pretty noisy last night,” offered the Professor. “You aren’t the only one who enjoyed a nice bath. I did, too, but as I finished, there was all this raucous commotion outside. I think they have a pretty big rodent problem here. Be good to get off to London proper and more civilized accommodations, don’t you think?”
“Indeed,” I said, taking a good hard look at the Professor and deciding that it was impossible for that harrowing hurricane of hair on her head to be that of the woman I saw in the tub last night. That woman’s hair was long and perfectly straight and, no offense to the Professor, lustrous and beautiful. And the Professor’s frame was more vulturous than voluptuous, unlike the delicious frame of the woman I had spied on. The only curves I could associate with the Professor involved the road we would be traveling on today.
“What do you want me to do to help you at the coronation?” the Professor asked. “I don’t know how to use a sword, and I certainly would not be much use in a fight.”
I nodded politely. She was so right, and I had thought of what she could do, and it wasn’t much. I just didn’t want her getting hurt. “Well,” I said. “The Oxford delegation will be well sought after by all the other academics. It is going to be up to you to interact with all of them, get as much information as possible about who is here, and keep your eyes out for something unusual.”
“Like what unusual?”
Oh boy. “I would imagine that you know all the teachers from the other colleges, yes?”
“Oh yes,” the Professor agreed. “In fact, I know all the instructors at every college in the world, and I can also tell you every dignitary that is going to be there, and their spouses and assistants.”
