by Trisha Baker
Charles bowed to his father's wishes for Alcuin insisted it wasn't a vampire's place to force his desires on humans and watched his family fade into obscurity, his father dying of tuberculosis in a charity ward ten years later.
But Charles still yearned for the house he'd grown up in and bought it when it came on the market in 1962. Meghann smiled, remembering Charles's glee and pride as he escorted her through the eye-catching house his father built in 1905.
Ellie was the one who'd pointed out that the house was a true example of Frank Lloyd Wright's style when they took her there for the first time at the age of ten. Already she had enough interest in architecture to point out to Meghann, Charles, and Lee the many modern innovations of Charles's home—the horizontal lines of the roof, limestone sills, art glass windows (pretty eggshell colored steel shutters were drawn over them during the day) and dramatic living space with its broad central hearth. How many times had she and Charles finished out a night by that cheerful redbrick fireplace with a few glasses of absinthe, not talking but simply enjoying each other's companionship?
"Meghann?"
Meghann opened her eyes and saw her thoughts had directed her over the astral plane very well; she was standing in front of the hearth now with Lee Winslow staring at her apathetically.
"Meghann," Lee said again and Meghann felt new remorse squeeze her heart when she saw the deep furrows around his eyes and mouth that had never been there before, the way his eyes had taken on a beaten, weary look like a tired old dog.
"I can't cry," Lee said dully and Meghann wanted to cry herself when she watched him shuffle over to the mahogany wet bar with the slow, fumbling walk of the very, very old. "I know I should, but somehow I can't seem to believe Charles isn't going to come walking through that door..."
"Who told you?" Meghann demanded, feeling a flush of anger. Why would Ellie or Jimmy decide to inform Lee of his lover's death over the phone and then hang up, thinking their job was done while Lee had to cope with his monstrous grief by himself in this lonely house? Such thoughtlessness wasn't like either of them.
"Simon," Lee said and Meghann started uneasily; she hadn't known he knew where Lee and Charles were supposed to meet tonight. Did that mean he was going to try and come here tonight, force his own selfish need for her attention on her? "Did Simon tell you how ... who did it?"
The tumbler glass of gin in Lee's hands dropped and shattered on the white Italian tile floor and Lee raised grief-stricken, enraged eyes to Meghann and she saw that, yes, Simon had told Lee everything. Seeing Lee's rage, Meghann prepared herself for the recriminations she deserved but Lee only held his arms out to her and said sadly, "Oh, Meghann. What are we going to do?"
Meghann dropped Charles's remains and held Lee tightly, knowing now he had no intention of blaming her. It would be selfish to cry of the guilt that drove her here and make Lee console her; she had to help him. "We're going to say goodbye to Charles. That's why I came here."
"A funeral," Lee said, soundly faintly surprised. "Of course." Then his gaze fell on the cardboard box by Meghann's feet. "Is that... Charles? I want to see."
"Please," Meghann said. "Don't look at that . . . Charles wouldn't want you to remember him that way." Bad enough the desecration Mikal had visited upon Charles was burned in her mind forever—let Lee hold something else in his heart when he thought of Charles. "Lee, you don't need to look at that to see Charles again. You know all vampires have at least one great gift. Mine is the ability to summon the spirits of my loved ones. Forget this empty shell and let me bring Charles's soul to you."
"Summon?" Lee asked and his voice took on a guarded optimism that made Meghann regret her words, for they'd given Lee a false hope in place of the comfort she meant to offer. "You mean you can bring Charles back, resurrect him?"
"Not exactly," Meghann said gently and her heart lurched when the hopeful light in Lee's eyes dimmed. "No one can bring the dead back to life. Death is ... death is the beginning of a different existence and usually, when someone passes on, their spirit can no longer communicate with those of us on the physical plane. No one knows why there's a barrier between the living and the dead or where the soul goes—not even vampires. But vampires . . . our souls seem to have a flexibility mortal spirits don't have, we can puncture the barrier temporarily. That's why I came here tonight. I want to give you and Charles some of the time Mikal cheated you of, time enough to say goodbye."
"What are you going to do, Meghann? Is this like a seance?"
"Something like that," Meghann said, almost smiling at Lee's naivete. Like Jimmy Delacroix, he'd never wanted to know a great deal about the mysticism she and Charles dabbled in—those things that Lord Baldevar was a master of. Meghann shuddered, wondering if Mikal was not only able to survive daylight but also a sorcerer of his father's caliber. If so, what (if anything) would stop him?
Enough of that, Meghann scolded herself. Concentrate on the task before you. Besides, she knew Simon's guarded ways well enough to know he'd never show anyone all his tricks ... not even his flesh and blood.
"Get me some hot water," Meghann said to Lee, whose eyes widened with surprise at her banal instruction but hurried off to carry out her bidding.
With Lee out of the room, Meghann removed Charles's head from its chenille wrapping, kissing the forehead reverently. She made the Sign of the Cross in the center of Charles's forehead and over that drew a seal of protection with her fingertip.
"I love you," Meghann said and carefully placed Charles's head in the large, black cauldron hanging in the fireplace.
Lee came back to the center room, and handed her a steaming pail of water. She poured the water into the cauldron and built up a fire with some kindling Charles kept by the fireplace, no matter what the season.
Soon there was a fine, glowing fire though it raised the already muggy temperature in the room to something unbearable. When Meghann went to switch on the air conditioning, Lee explained the central air system was malfunctioning and the repairman was due to arrive tomorrow afternoon. There was a fine sheen of perspiration on Lee's face and Meghann's clothes felt plastered against her body, her long hair stuck to her back in wet, stringy clumps.
Meghann waved her hand and the lights went out, the flames from the fire casting eerie, elongated shadows along the wall. She didn't really need the darkness but used it to distract Lee—she didn't want him to concentrate on the odor of roasting flesh when the cauldron started to boil.
Walking clockwise, Meghann cast a circle to protect her and Lee from any mischievous spirits attracted to her ceremony that would try to mimic Charles, using the cauldron as the northernmost point of the circle.
"My God," she heard Lee breathe in awe when a thin band of golden light appeared around them.
"It's all right," Meghann whispered and took his hand, looking deep into his heart to find his love for Charles and combine it with her own. She took that love and imagined its essence as a windstorm, a small speck at first but gathering more and more momentum as she concentrated and fed it all their love for Charles, their need for him and grief at his passing. When Meghann felt the essence as a living, breathing thing, she pulled back from Lee and grabbed the whirlwind force she'd erected in her hands, throwing it up and away from her with all the force she could muster while she screamed, "Charles!"
"Excellent, Banrion, " Meghann heard a dearly familiar voice congratulate her and she turned to see Alcuin standing by her side.
No matter how heavy her heart was, Meghann could always feel some calm settle over her spirit at Alcuin's sporadic visitations.
"How well you choose to employ your gifts, Banrion, "Alcuin said, smiling proudly as he stared at the hearth.
Meghann turned to the fireplace and her breath caught at the handsome young man standing there with black hair and cheerful black eyes, wearing a Panama white hat and a cream-colored linen suit reminiscent of the early twentieth century. It made sense for Charles to appear as he'd been in his youth, for Meghann had su
mmoned him to the place where he spent that youth.
Meghann smiled tearfully at her friend's fetch, watching him and Lee speaking earnestly, their eyes happy but resigned to their inevitable separation. Strange that she couldn't make out what they were saying to each other, stranger that they didn't seem aware of her at all.
"Charles," Meghann started to say and Alcuin clamped his hand on her shoulder.
"No, Banrion. This time is for them alone," he whispered, pointing to the male couple embracing. "Now you must come with me."
"Come with you? But..." Then Meghann saw her body slumped by Lee's feet and understood Alcuin had extracted her soul so she could walk in his dimension.
Soon the physical world became blurred and indistinct, only Alcuin having any substance as they wandered through something like a thick fog.
"You spoke very bravely to Charles's lover, Banrion, telling him Charles's death is not as crushing or final as it could be," Alcuin said and Meghann had an impression of something like a warm hand settling over her. It wasn't a physical sensation, more like she received the emotions such a touch would evoke—caring, love, and pride. "But do your words bring comfort to your own heart?"
Meghann couldn't answer; she only stared up and beseeched Alcuin with a deep, stinging pain that came out of her soul as soundless, phantom tears.
"My poor young queen," Alcuin said and Meghann felt his touch on her the way it would have been in life—his thin, skinny arms that were so strong and comforting despite their wasted appearance, the feel of his woolen monks robe brushing against her skin in a way that reminded her of her- treasured childhood blanket. "Cry here where no one sees; purge your heart of this bitterness so you may regain the strength you'll need to keep your loved ones safe."
"Charles didn't deserve what happened to him!" she cried against Alcuin's chest. "He didn't, he didn't!"
"No more than you deserve the hair shirt of guilt and reproach you're whipping yourself with now. Look at me, Banrion. "Alcuin took her by the shoulders and she tilted her chin to meet his eyes. "This tragedy is not your fault. Had you any inkling Charles was in danger, would you not have done all you could to save him—even given up your own life to save his, just as you'd do if someone threatened Elizabeth?"
"But Mikal is my son," Meghann protested.
"You are not to blame for Mikal's actions," Alcuin said firmly. "He has made his own choice to use all his talents and abilities for destruction and you did not affect that choice—nor did Simon Baldevar. You must not hold him responsible for Mikal."
"What?" Meghann said dumbly, certain she misunderstood for she'd never expected to hear Alcuin defend the vampire he'd spent four hundred years attempting to kill for his sadistic, depraved behavior toward mortals and vampires alike.
"Simon Baldevar was an altogether different being before he met you," Alcuin said quietly. "He was an unfeeling, cold monster that gloried in the pain he brought to others. When he took a consort, I thought you would be one of his victims and I did not see how wrong I was in that assumption until your children were born. He loves you, Banrion, and that love has tempered the darkness in his soul. Not completely, it's true, but you gave him something he never had before you—a heart, and the ability to care deeply for someone besides himself.
"You cannot rip that heart away from him now when he needs you so badly." Alcuin's specter hands clutched hers with a grip that crushed the bones together and made her cry out "Simon needs you, Banrion, and this is no time to selfishly indulge your grief for Charles by pushing him away to soothe your guilt."
"Selfish?" Meghann cried and tried to wrench away from Alcuin but this was his world and her resistance to his power weak. "I want Simon out of our lives to save Ellie, to . .."
'To punish him, to make him pay for the pain that's tearing you apart. Banrion, you cannot begin to know the hell Simon has already gone through over Mikal. If you withdraw from him now, when he most needs your love and support, he will have nothing to sustain him when he battles Mikal to save you and Elizabeth. Look carefully, Banrion, and tell me if this is what you want for it is what you will bring to pass if you allow Simon to fight Mikal alone."
"Alcuin?" Meghann called, suddenly alone and in a dark, cold place she thought might be familiar though she couldn't be sure she'd ever been here before.
Silence greeted her repeated calls and Meghann inched forward, determined to find her body and leave this bleak netherworld. Her foot hit a solid barrier and Meghann looked down, screaming at what she saw.
"No," she moaned. "No, no." Lying at her feet was Simon Baldevar, a broad sword lodged in the center of his heart and a large pool of blood rapidly forming around his body. His eyes were shut, his face ashen and still with his bright chestnut hair standing out in ghasdy relief against the pallor of his skin.
Is this what you want, Banrion?
"No!" Meghann screamed at the invisible voice and its unspeakable portents. "No, no!"
Meghann fell on her knees by Simon and the hideous vision was so real she not only heard the dull splat as herjcnees hit the crimson puddle of blood surrounding her lover's body but also smelled the thick odor of iron and copper permeating the darkness around them. Frantically, Meghann pulled at his death sword with all her strength, even though she knew the weapon had already done its work and removing it from his heart would not bring Simon back.
"Please don't die," Meghann pleaded with the unresponsive body, her tears mixing with the dark, stagnant blood that soaked her clothes and stained the stone floor. "Please don't be dead. I couldn't stand it if you leave me, too. Oh, please come back. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of those horrible things I said. Come back, Simon. You can't leave me ... no, not you, too! No!"
Meghann, she thought someone called out from the thick darkness and peered hopefully into the shadows but there was no one here except the corpse of a man she'd realized too late she loved and needed.
"I don't know what happened," Lee Winslow's fretful voice said, his voice sounding weak and thin as though it was coming to her from a great distance. "She ... she brought Charles here and we were ... we were saying goodbye. Then the lights came back on and she's screaming and carrying on and she can't hear me ..."
Meghann screamed again when the mists surrounding her became so thick she could no longer see Simon's body at her feet. Frantically, she crawled around in the thick fog, crying from fear at the mist she couldn't penetrate and desolation at no longer even having the poor comfort of claiming her dead lover's body.
A stinging pain spread over her cheek and Meghann raised her hand, bewildered by the attacker she couldn't see. She spun around in the fog while more blows rained down on her face.
"Stop it!" she screamed at the harsh, open palm slaps that were snapping her head backward. "Stop hitting me, stop it!"
"Open your eyes, girl," a voice she knew as well as her own ordered her curtly. "Open your eyes and come back to me."
"Simon!" Meghann gasped and found herself back where she belonged, in her body with the mundane comfort of the physical world surrounding her and the horror she'd just witnessed banished by the bright amber eyes fixed unwaveringly on hers.
"Simon," Meghann said again, glancing up at him and thinking he seemed ten feet tall as he towered over her. Then she saw her outstretched feet, felt the leather cushion pillowing her head and realized she was lying on the sofa while he stood over her.
Wordlessly, Meghann held out her hands and she felt fresh tears form when his warm, blessedly alive hands reached out to take hers.
"I thought you were dead," Meghann sobbed as he gathered her up, cradling her close to him. "It was so real... I saw you there ... dead. Simon, I don't want you to die, you can't leave me . .."
"Hush," Simon said and smiled at the restless hands roving over the planes of his cheek and jaw to reassure herself of his presence. "I will never leave you, little one—neither by choice nor by death. We shall be together always, I promise you."
"But
Alcuin ... my vision. Simon, my visions always come true—"
"If nothing is done to alter the future," Simon broke in and pulled her closer, smoothing her hair. "Did Alcuin never teach you what a premonition is?"
"A warning," Meghann said and Simon smiled at her response, the. grin, turning to a puzzled frown when Meghann started crying again.
"What is it, sweet? Don't grieve so, I will avenge your fine friend ..."
"No," Meghann sniffled and glanced up from the shirt she'd soaked. "I just don't understand . . . how can you come in here and hold me like this, love me after all those horrible things I said ..."
"Do you think me a fool, Meghann," Simon questioned tenderly, "that I would hate you for words spoken in utter grief and misery? I know you so well, too well to take offense when you behave like always— going off to lick your wounds in privacy instead of allowing someone else to pluck the thorn from your paw."
Simon smiled wryly at Meghann's wide-eyed astonishment, firmly tucking her head against his shoulder as she ruminated that Simon did know her, far better than she'd ever imagined. Meghann had friends, but Simon was right. . . she did prefer to deal with grief on her own, never allowing anyone to see her pain if she could help it.
For as long as she could remember, Meghann had resented Simon's way of shutting her out, never making her privy to his innermost thoughts. Now she discovered the same secretiveness in her own soul. She too kept a certain distance from others and that reserved quality made her and Simon more alike than she'd ever guessed.
Meghann leaned her head against Simon's chest, feeling the old peace and security wash over her. Nowhere else did she feel as safe and comforted as she did in Simon's arms. Here she felt the bitterness and choking fear start to ease, here was her place to catch her breath, to heal. Even Alcuin couldn't shelter her like this, Meghann thought, snuggling against the heat of his skin.
Had a part of her known all along Simon was nearby as she rushed to Lee, felt him shadow her steps and only come close when she needed him? And had that knowing given her the strength to rise above her grief and perform for Lee the magic that reunited him with Charles? Meghann felt guilt and shame nip at her when she thought of how easily she'd discarded this love, preferring to lash Simon with her misery and grief as Alcuin had accused her of doing.
