Moon Child

by Christina Moore

  Ash jerked her hand back. “What is it?”

  “Just…” He swallowed again and raised a shaking finger. “Head… take her head.”

  Ash looked down at the elf steel in her hands. Was it really that easy? Could a single thrust end the rule of a tyrant as much a part of one’s being as one’s own identity? It was a terrifying possibility. Was she really ready for this? Was she ready to destroy the last of her despair, the thing that made her who she was today?

  The smile that filled Ash’s face made Mamoru recoil. Genoveva too, having felt an air of malice and fortitude from Ash, stopped scratching at her eyes long enough let them heal. When she could see again, she bristled and started to scramble away from Ash.

  “No—no,” the woman gasped.

  “Something the matter?” Ash asked, moving to stand over the downed vampire. “Why not use your seikonō?”

  “B—but—”

  Ash tilted her chin up to look down her nose at her former keeper, her personal Jesus. She could feel it now, what Mamoru had done to Genoveva. If it wasn’t for Innokentiy she’d never have known, but as it was, she knew too much now and could distinguish the vampire’s level of seikonō. Whatever Mamoru’d slapped her with sapped all but the last drop of it out of her. She was practically a vanilla vampire now. Interesting little spell, she didn’t know that one. Perhaps Mamoru did know more than he’d let on. It was almost too late to know for sure now.

  “I am happy to say we will not be seeing each other again.”

  Genoveva blinked at her, eyes full of bewilderment, still red from being scratched at. “I… die now?”

  “Now and forever. That is my only promise to you.”

  Genoveva coughed out a bitter laugh. “You really are different, aren’t you?”

  Before she could refute the claim, once again, the vampire’s expression shifted and Ash stiffened, understanding exactly what’d happened.

  “Aturar! Meu estrella—Asta, si us plau!”

  The familiar voice of her dear friend pierced right through her. She said a silent prayer for the man pleading for the life of the body he unfortunately occupied. “Descansi en pau, Vasco.”

  The same moment Ash raised the sword over her head, the person behind Vasco’s eyes changed again and Genoveva took over. She growled angrily, expression full of wrath and threw out a hand as if tossing dice.

  The cut from the elfish blade was clean, taking off the vampire’s head with a single slice, a mercy that Genoveva didn’t deserve even if Vasco did. While the vampire in Ash savored every infinitesimal moment of the kill, the human in her wept for her beloved friend. Her moment of relish was not broken though for her love of the man he was, but for the gasp of surprised pain at her back.

  “Asta!” Desmond screamed and she spun, realizing what she’d felt in the last second of Genoveva’s life. The mad vampire expelled that last drop of seikonō.

  “No,” she whispered as she spun to see what she’d felt. “No!” Her scream brought the world to a quivering halt and she darted to Tristan, held in Desmond’s arms.

  “Couldn’t stop it,” the big vampire was saying, voice shaking with fear. “She did it right when yew killed her. Were just too bloody fast fur me.”

  Tristan was writhing, back arching as the pain of taking a rod of hard packed earth through the chest wracked his entire body.

  “No, no, no…” Ash was chanting, not believing. “No, this can’t—Give him to me.”

  “Ash,” Desmond said gently as he pushed the dying American into her lap. “His heart’s been hit.”

  Ash pulled Tristan close, cradling him against her chest and touched his face, calming his throws of pain. He blinked up at her, his mind filled with a sense of calm even as one lung didn’t work and his heart slowed. He was going to die now, in Ash’s arms and he felt at peace with that.

  “You can’t go,” she whimpered. “Please don’t leave me, not yet.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her it was all right, that he was dying happy, but the blood that gurgled out choked his words.

  “I said bloody move!” that sharp voice screeched into Ash’s ear and she realized it wasn’t the first time she’d heard the command in the last few moments.

  She did nothing as Tristan was torn from her arms and laid out on the ground, looking pale. Chrysanthe rubbed her hands together quickly, the strong scent of mint dampened only slightly by the sweeter note of milkweed coming from them and then placed her hands around the earthen rod in his chest. On her command, and after a steadying breath, she had Desmond pull the stake free.

  Tristan screamed before he blacked out. Ash nearly tore out Chrysanthe’s throat. It was only Desmond’s foresight that kept her off the pythia while she chanted over Tristan. Ash knew the words, recognized them with everything in her, felt them in the fibers of her non-vampiric being, but as the fear and panic took over, she could do nothing to stop herself from reacting. She couldn’t lose Tristan, not now. It was too soon.

  “I thought we’d have more time,” she whispered in a broken voice.

  With a gasp and sputter, Chrysanthe collapsed, falling back. A second later, Tristan’s eyes opened. “Motherfuckingsonofabastardcunt, that shit hurts!”

  Ash laughed in her relief and went to him.

  Tristan was rubbing his chest where there was a new, sensitive, shiny scar over his heart. “Ow,” he muttered, looking into Ash’s eyes.

  She laughed again and grabbed him, yanking him upright. He moaned about it being too fast and then a different sort of moan rose up as Ash kissed him.

  “I thought you were dead,” Ash whispered, holding him tightly and he sighed.

  “Now we’re even.”

  She smiled despite the tears blurring her vision and punched him in the shoulder.

  He laughed around an “ow”. “Still sensitive.”

  Ash suddenly stiffened and turned. “Mamoru…”

  The couple stood and the moment Tristan got to his feet, he rushed the elf. “You son of a bitch!”

  He clocked the tall man, pulling a pained grunt from him before doubling over himself. Desmond helped him tie up Silas. The elf looked angry, but complacent, allowing the two men manhandle him without any more complaint than dirty looks.

  Ash was kneeling at Mamoru’s head, leaning over to look him in the eye. What she saw in those eyes broke her heart.

  “I’m sorry,” the dying man muttered. “I really did want to stay with you both, act as Master… hold you as friends.”

  “Shh,” Ash comforted him. “I understand. Everything.”

  “Tristan—”

  “I will make sure he does too.”

  His eyes widened slightly. “You know?”

  She nodded solemnly. “You let it slip last time you fed me.”

  He smiled softly, eyes shutting for a moment. “Sō ka… Good, you felt the honesty of my emotions then.”

  “Hai,” Ash answered in a whisper.

  Silas gave a deep grunt as he was forced down next to Mamoru with a kick to the back of his knees by Tristan. “Fucking bastard!”

  “Tristan,” Ash held her hand out to him. “Calm, please.”

  He dropped down next to Mamoru, his posture unsteady as the pain started to trickle in past the drugs and placed his palm to the Japanese man’s chest. “Mamoru.”

  “Please,” Mamoru coughed and then spit out a mouthful of blood that splattered Ash’s legs. His eyes closed so long Tristan panicked, thinking he’d taken in last breath. Then he took in another deep gasp, searching for Tristan’s eyes as if he couldn’t see well. “Don’t blame Silas. It… it was an accident.”

  “What are you talking about? I saw him stab you.”

  “No,” Mamoru whispered.

  “It truly was… accident. We are old friends.” Everyone’s attention jerked around to Silas, judging him with doubtful gazes.

  “Bollox,” Desmond said for the group.

  Mamoru looked to Ash. “You will make sure? You’ll tell him?” He
sighed. “He’s so hardheaded and rash.”

  She took in a deep breath, shutting her eyes and lowered her head in reverence. “I am your servant, now and always, Uruwashi-sama.”

  Mamoru’s breath left him in a shaky sigh. “You’re a good woman, Ash of Earth. I just wish… I wanted to stay with you both.”

  Ash bent over the man. They exchanged a few soft whispers and she nodded a few times.

  “Witch!” Tristan belted out and Chrysanthe, all but forgotten, looking frightened and meek off to the side, jumped. “Heal him like you did me.”

  Her eyes widened as they darted between the others. “I… I can’t.”

  With a growl of anger, Tristan stormed up to her. Before she could move out of his reach, he grabbed her and jerked to towards Mamoru. “Your fucking elf did this. You will save him or so help me, I’ll kill you both myself!”

  Feeling his honest intent, Ash shuddered. She knew, without a doubt, that he meant those words. That’s how much Mamoru meant to him. “Tristan,” she said calmly and he snapped his attention to her, his eyes red with tears.

  “I, I…” the pythia stuttered. “I only had enough for one. It was you or him, Tristan and my orders were to keep you alive at all costs. I’m sorry, but I can’t save him.”

  “Orders?” he barked. “Who the fuck are you working for? Who is the Professor?”

  The pythia only frowned at him, the first frightened and frustrated tear wetting her cheek.

  “Tristan,” Ash said softly again and reached out to touch his hand. “She’s been spelled to forget.”

  He stumbled away from Chrysanthe, his expression full of hurt and despair and went to his knees with a hard thud next to the others. He lowered his head and whispered, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

  Tristan was surprised when Mamoru took his hand and gave him a little squeeze. Tristan’s head jerked up to meet the other Uruwashi’s eyes. There was compassion and forgiveness, understanding and acceptance in those eyes and Tristan wept for the man.

  Mamoru’s grip tightened on Tristan’s hand when Ash’s fangs slipped into his neck only to lose its grip entirely. Refusing to let go when his friend needed him the most, Tristan held on until it was over. The heart under his hand slowed to nothing and Ash sat up, eyes downcast and lips heavy with crimson. She was trying to hide her excitement over the fresh feed. The grief helped.

  “I gave him what solace I could, he had a quiet end, a dream filled with love. Rest in peace, Uruwashi-sama. You shall be remembered.”

  Tristan took a moment to say a silent prayer for the man he barely knew but felt such strong kinship toward. When he looked up again, he scowled, nodding to the headless body just behind Ash. “She’s dead?”

  “As is Vasco.”

  “The price of freedom,” declared the new voice and everyone spun towards it.

  “Where the fuck were you!” Tristan screamed and advanced on the vampire, even as his chest pinched in protest to the fast movements. He’d almost died, again, and wasn’t giving his body enough time to heal properly. “You were supposed to stop that fucking nightmare you created! Now my friend is dead. Final death, no coming back!”

  Despite Tristan’s overly familiar proximity, Innokentiy bowed his head in a show of apologetic modesty. “I was detained beyond my will.” He gave a quick little glance to Desmond, narrowing his eyes on the man.

  “Bullshit!” Tristan swung out and Innokentiy let himself be hit in the face. His lip split, for a breath, then healed. Tristan cried out in pain, not having realized the pain potion had run its course already. As he was cursing and jumping around trying to shake off the pain in his ruined hand, Ash and Desmond moved closer to the Master vampire.

  Save for a small group of emergency personnel helping those who had been buried, the crowed was substantially thinned. Chrysanthe, having extracted herself form the group after Tristan demanded her inept skills, was doing a bang up job distracting everyone left behind after the passivity spell, directing them as if she were the fucking Queen of Crete.

  “I found Agamemnon.”

  That got Tristan to stop dancing around. “And?”

  Innokentiy looked tired as he his attention went behind Tristan. “Oh, she’s dead,” he whispered sounding relieved and forlorn all at once as he nodded towards the headless body. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for her.”

  “Excuse me?” Tristan spit out. “That fucking monster tortured Ash. She almost killed me too.” Tristan pulled his hand back to show the new scar over his heart. The one that would have ended him if it weren’t for the witch.

  Innokentiy met Tristan’s eyes, his own heavy with weary even as his brows rose in surprise. The man’s ever-present sarcastic nature was utterly gone in the wake of his grief. “I still cared for her. The monster that was Genoveva and the gentle creature that was Vasco, both. I’m just sorry I failed them so utterly.” His attention went behind Tristan again. “And you, noble Uruwashi. I’m honestly sorry for Mamoru’s passing. He was a good man, despite his nature.”

  “Tell me of the antediluvian,” Ash demanded, stepping forward and pushing Desmond aside. The vampire scoffed and went to stand off on his own, sulking. Ash brushed Tristan in passing and he shuddered at her warmth, at the feeling of life coming from her. If he thought too closely on it, he’d realize that she was wearing Mamoru’s mantle of life and Mamoru wasn’t.

  “Agamemnon’s dead,” Netty said softly.

  “By who’s hand?”

  The vampire glanced at Tristan. “Your father. Mamoru tried to stop him but failed.”

  Tristan started, but was too stunned to say anything, for once. He didn’t really believe the old man when he so boldly declared parentage, but now, after seeing the expression on Innokentiy’s face, he believed it. “Who is he really? What is he?”

  Innokentiy lifted a hand to his chin and stroked his tidy beard, silently studying the other man. Finally he sighed, deflating. “Give me the elf and I may tell you.”

  “May?” Tristan questioned. “Why do you want him?”

  “That’s—”

  “No!” the feminine voice called out and Chrysanthe stumbled into the group, panting. “He belongs to no one!”

  “He killed Mamoru,” Tristan growled. “He has to pay.”

  Ash put a gentle hand on Tristan’s arm, drawing his attention down to her. “It was not intentional.” She turned to smile sadly at Silas. “They were friends.”

  The elf bowed his head, a little sob slipping out. “I never wanted to see him hurt. It was an accident.”

  “Silas?” Chrysanthe whispered, going to her knees next to him. “Is that true? You knew that man?”

  “It’s true.”

  “Oh dear, why didn’t you tell me, my love?”

  He shook his head, looking at her with tears in his eyes, making their brilliant color shimmer and shine. “There’s much you haven’t told me too, agapi mou.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. After she found her voice again, she turned to the others. “Please, don’t hurt him. He’s all I have.”

  Ash and Tristan exchanged glances with each other and then the other two men. Innokentiy gave a little nod as if to say he didn’t mind, his usual sly expression slowly slipping in again.

  Desmond huffed and put his hands up. “I’ve got nothing to do with this lot. I didn’t even want to be here. Fooking Crete,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “See yur lot back on mainland.”

  “Go on,” Tristan said softly to Chrysanthe. “Take your elf and get lost.”

  There was no hesitation as the small woman produced a knife, cut Silas free and left, giving a parting nod of thanks.

  “You think it’s okay to let them leave?” Netty mused, watching the couple rush off.

  “No, no it’s not.” Tristan heaved a big sigh and clutched his hand to his chest as it started to throb, the pain spreading towards his elbow. “But I believe him.”

  Ash spun to him, eyes wide in surprise. “You do?�
�

  Tristan chuckled at her honesty, and for surprising her. He pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head. “You know who and what my father is, don’t you?”

  Netty smiled. “I do.”

  “But you won’t tell me, will you? Elf or not.”

  Ash stiffened against him.

  “No.”

  Tristan nodded. “Anything else?”

  Ash took a step back from Tristan. “Who are you and what have you done with my love?”

  He laughed, shaking his head at her. “I’m fucking tired, Ash. I mean, sure, I can bitch and moan, even try to beat it out of the guy. But look at him.” They both gave Netty their attention. “The dude’s a fucking Viking, older than Jesus Christ. If you think you can make him tell us, then by all means.” He motioned towards the smiling vampire and Ash heaved a sigh. She knew that she already owed the Master much.

  “You’re right,” Netty answered. “Besides, you don’t need me to figure this mystery out. You’re so very close now.”

  Ash raised a brow in question.

  Netty made an off-handed gesture, posture shifting to move. “You both are doing admirably on your own. You really don’t need anyone but each other.”

  The couple exchanged a look that ended with Tristan smiling at her. He shrugged. “He’s right.”

  Innokentiy strolled away causally amidst the abating chaos as humans were carted off to the hospital or morgue. No one noticed the beat up foreigners. “Besides, all things will come to light soon.” He stopped to glance over his shoulder. “So says your father anyway.” He smiled. “I hope we meet again.”

  “Wait, you’re not going to—”

  “No.” Innokentiy glanced at Mamoru’s body. “No one can save me now. I’ll just have to find another way. Anyway, I think I’d like to see you grow up a little, Tristan. You’re fascinating.”

  He huffed, shifting his weight. “Wha—”

  “And Asta?”

  “Master?”

  “You’re the keeper of my ancient secrets, hold them well, cherish them.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Innokentiy smiled all fang and nodded.