She supposed she could say something, but she had done enough, kissing him so brazenly. It was not the least bit ladylike and even if she were a vampire, was she not still a lady? Maybe she wasn’t. She’d slept with a married man and bore his illegitimate child. They both knew it. Maybe Eron kissed her back in the heat of passion, but having slept on it, decided she was beneath him. He’d had a wife he cared for very much, no doubt a fine woman who would never do what she had done. Why would he want someone with her past? He’d saved her because he’d been sent to. He was her sire, nothing more. He may have told her to forgive herself and he may have even meant it. That did not mean that he himself would not judge her. Seta sighed as the backs of her eyes started to burn. Closing them, she gritted her teeth together until the urge to cry passed.
One man had already stolen her purity and ruined her. She would not let another cause further damage. There was enough pain in her heart from being away from Rialto. She didn’t need to add any other type of sorrow.
The tavern door opened, cool night air breezing in, but it was not the air that sent a shiver down Seta’s spine. An alarm bell rang in her head as a trio of large men entered, their presence seeming to fill the room.
The two men bringing up the rear would not have earned a second glance, however the man leading them awakened a thirst for revenge deep in Seta’s heart. Count Roberto Garibaldi’s guard laughed boisterously as he swung an arm around one of the men’s shoulders and walked his group over to a vacant table. They practically flung themselves into the chairs before he slapped the table top and demanded drinks for his brothers.
Blood brothers? Seta looked closer, paying special attention to their facial features. The noses were the same, two of them had identical eyes, but his eyes were different. The eyes of a man who could and would help a man steal a woman’s child. How would he feel if she stole his brothers before ripping out his throat?
Seta? Eron’s voice sounded in her mind. What is wrong?
Seta cursed under her breath. Eron was her sire and could feel her emotions. She did not know if he could speak in Christian’s mind as he could in hers, but if he could, Christian would stand in her way. If he could not, he himself would stop her. She had to do what needed to be done before he could rob her of her chance.
Seta rose from her seat and crossed the bar, her gaze locked onto the man who had helped steal her precious child away from her, who had stood by obediently as his employer cast her over a cliff.
His gaze rose, meeting hers as she approached. His eyes widened in horror, inducing her smile. She imagined what he must think, seeing the woman he’d watched die appear out of the shadows, knowing he was partly to blame for her death.
“You … you …” he stuttered, pointing at her. “You went over the cliff. You could not survive the fall!”
“I did not land as hard as you thought,” Seta said as she wrapped her hand around the large column of his throat and pulled him to his feet, effortlessly. “Did you think you would get away with what you took from me?”
She flung him across the tavern, sending his body into the wall. She heard bones break over the sound of his brothers’ chairs scraping over the floorboards as they sprang to defend him.
She spread her arms wide, fire shooting from each palm, setting both men ablaze with bright green flame. Screams erupted through the tavern as men and women ran out in terror.
Christian approached her, his eyes wary. She felt Eron closing in.
“Seta, stop this,” Christian pleaded.
She cast him a warning glare. “Do not interfere. I do not wish to harm you, only my enemy.”
The guard now stood, having used a chair for leverage as he pulled himself up. “I had orders,” he said. “I had to.”
“You had to steal a child?” Seta asked, stepping closer. “What kind of man takes such an order?”
“The child is the count’s heir,” he replied. “You should not have fought.”
Seta’s eyes burned with tears of fury as she processed the man’s words. That was his defense? She should have not tried to keep her son, her only child?
“You should have chosen the other side in this battle.” She sped across the room and placed her hand on the man’s chest, feeling his heart beat beneath. With a powerful thought, she felt it seize as the man’s mouth gaped open in a silent scream.
“Seta, stop at once!” Eron’s voice boomed through the tavern as he stood in the entry. “I command it!”
She started to curse, then realized she still held the guard’s life in her palm. Eron’s command did not work. Her rage-filled magic was too strong.
“Seta, I said stop!”
“He helped steal my child. You said it yourself. In order to save humans, some must die.”
“Did they have to die?” He nodded his head toward the charred bodies lying on the floor. “What role did they have in your son being taken from you?”
A pang of regret arced through her chest but she shook it off. “They were his brothers. They would have done the same thing.”
“You do not know that.” Eron approached her. “Let this man go, Seta. A righteous kill would have been at the time of the theft. This is just murder.”
“I do not care.” She turned her attention back to the guard, whose eyes had rolled into his head. One more thrust of her power and he would collapse, never to breathe again. It was less of a tragedy than he deserved, but it would do.
“Seta, no!”
She lost her footing as Eron crashed into her, breaking her concentration. They rolled on the floor, but she rose first, knowing he would overpower her if she gave him half a chance. She did not want to use her magic on him, her feelings for him ones of love and compassion, not violence, but she feared what he would do to her. She had learned what men could do to you if you foolishly gave them your trust.
“I am sorry, Eron.” She reached out her hand, the tingle of magic dancing across her fingertips. It fizzled out before she could use it.
“What?” She attempted to inspect her hand but could not move it.
“Took you long enough,” Eron muttered as Christian reached down, helping him up.
“I did not want to use it unless I absolutely had to.” Christian looked at the small sack in his hand. It looked like an ordinary coin purse but Seta could tell what was in it was not ordinary in the least.
“You have magic.”
“Witch’s Net,” Eron explained as he pulled his own little sack from the inside of his coat. “It is an entrapment to prevent movement or magic when catching a witch. It will wear off soon. This is a very light strength. We knew that if the time came for us to use it, we would not need you detained long.”
Fear rose inside her, to be quickly banked down by anger. “You are killing me now.”
“No, Seta.” Eron sighed. “The only killer here is you. This was wrong.”
“He helped Roberto Garibaldi take my son!”
“He had a part in it, yes. These two men did not. You killed them like they were nothing. Beyond that, you exposed yourself to everyone who was in this tavern tonight. Word is spreading now. Come morning, you will be hunted.”
“Let them hunt me. You seem to think I need punishment.”
“Your punishment will come on its own when your anger clears and you realize what you have done.” He stepped closer, stopping before her. “You have to leave now, and we will not be with you.”
“You turned me into this. Now you treat me like a monster.”
“I turned you into a vampire. Anything else you become is your own doing.” He reached into the little bag and extracted a fine, silver powder. “I am truly sorry, Seta. I hope you find peace.”
He blew the dust into her face.
A large group of dark-skinned men stood before her, holding long sticks with sharp stones above their heads, ready to strike her. They dressed unlike anything she had ever seen, some in brightly colored woven designs, and others in what appeared to be animal skins.
Some men had no shirts and their legs were exposed. They adorned themselves in feathers and beads. Their eyes were wide in surprise and they all spoke at once in a strange language. Despite not understanding the language, Seta could tell they were shocked and confused, as was she.
Drawing from the knowledge her grandmother had gifted her with in the dream realm, Seta spoke the necessary spell to allow them to understand each other. “Speak as you hear, hear as you speak.”
Who are you?
Where did you come from?
The spirits sent her!
White man’s witch!
The wolf! The wolf!
The cries of wolf grew louder, increasing her confusion. The rest of their words made sense as she had literally appeared before them in this strange, arid land with its red soil and large mountains she saw in the distance, but nothing about her would cause someone to call her a wolf, unless they somehow sensed the predator she was.
A low growl behind her explained everything.
Seta slowly turned her head to see a large wolf trapped between her and a wall of mountain rock. Mostly hidden in shadow, its eyes reflected the moonlight as it bowed its head, snarling at the men hunting it.
She closed her eyes, breathed deep, and willed her power to reach out to the animal. It shrank back as far as it could, its snarls turning into a whine.
“Why have you hunted this beautiful creature?” she asked the men, returning her attention to them.
Their eyes widened again, realizing they could understand her.
“This wolf hunts our sheep at night, killing them as we sleep,” one of the men answered. Seta understood him perfectly despite the fact he still spoke in his native tongue as did she. She approached the wolf and ran her hand over its head, shushing it until its whimpers turned to silence.
“Go away now and hunt elsewhere.”
The wolf ran right through the men whose shock at seeing a woman calm a wild beast enabled it to get past them unharmed.
“She speaks to the wolves,” a man with long black hair spoke. “The spirits have sent her.”
“Or she is a witch,” the man in front said, his voice not sharing any of the other man’s awe. He was heavier set than the slender men around him, shirtless but wearing a heavily beaded chest piece. His long, black hair, longer than her own, did nothing to lessen his masculinity. “We will take her to the Elder. He will know what to do with her.”
The man gestured for her to walk. She looked at the group, studying them in the moonlight. She had no idea who they were or where she was at. It definitely was not any part of Italy, or Spain for that matter. Her parents had traveled prior to her birth and had told her of a land where the people were savages. Hunters and gatherers, they dressed in animal skins and the men believed their hair held power so they did not cut it. When the people they were with fell under attack from these savages, they fled. Seta feared these were the same people, and considered summoning her power to take them all out in one big fireball, but she was alone in what looked like a deserted land with no shelter from the sun. She needed them for now. If they turned on her, she would destroy them then.
They walked what felt to be an hour before small patches of grass started to appear on the ground. During that time, Seta saw several mountains but no people, no buildings. No signs of life whatsoever.
They took a turn which appeared to place them between two mountain ranges, and followed that trail until they reached an opening. People who looked like the men escorting her stopped and stared as they walked through. She noticed small structures that looked like domes all around and after seeing a few people appear from inside them, realized these small hut-like dwellings were what these people considered shelter.
Due to the late hour, she did not see children, and few women. The women she did see were beautiful, some with hair down to their knees. They either wore it long and free, or braided in different fashions. They also adorned themselves in beads and some jewelry of a blue she had never seen before.
Further on, they passed a large herd of sheep before stopping outside one of the small dwellings she’d seen upon entering the area.
An old man stood outside of it, peering intently at her. “Atsidi, what have you brought to me?”
Atsidi? Seta understood through her spell that the name meant Hammer or Silversmith. Looking at the large man, she felt the first meaning fit.
“Hastiin Sani,” Atsidi greeted the elder man, bowing his head with respect. “This strange woman appeared before us just as we cornered the wolf who has been killing our sheep. She spoke to it and sent it away. She can understand us and we can understand her but we speak different languages.”
“Leave her with me,” Hastiin Sani, which Seta comprehended to mean The Old Man ordered.
The men bowed their heads and departed, obedient to the other man. Only Atsidi and two other men stayed behind, a short distance behind them, protecting the elder man.
For a man so heavily wrinkled, Hastiin Sani moved well as he walked over to a brightly colored mat next to a small fire. He gestured with his hand for Seta to sit.
“You are safe here,” Hastiin Sani advised when she remained standing, “no harm will come to you as long as no harm comes from you.”
Deciding she couldn’t argue with that policy, Seta sat on the mat as ladylike as she could, curling her legs underneath her. Hastiin Sani joined her, sitting in a cross-legged style she had never seen. She was thankful he wore the same odd animal skin breeches as the other men rather than the shorter, leg exposing flaps some of the others wore, fearful his position might reveal more than just his legs. She had never in her life been near so many barely dressed men.
“You have magic and great power,” Hastiin Sani said, his tone neutral. “How did you happen to appear before my men in this place and time?”
“I am not sure,” she answered. “Magic was involved though not my own.”
He studied her, undoubtedly as curious about her dress as she was his. “Do you know where you are?”
She shook her head. “I have never seen land so red, or people of your … fashion.”
He grinned. “We are the Navajo. You have trespassed on our land, as many who look like you. The question is why. If not by your own magic, by whose?”
“My … traveling partner,” Seta answered, catching herself before she revealed too much. The older man did not seem particularly loathsome of her magical ability, but to admit to vampirism was a different thing. She was a predator and when she’d appeared before his men they were preparing to kill a wolf for killing their sheep. They would treat her no differently if they suspected she may kill their people.
“Why?”
“He and I had a disagreement. He cast me away.” Seta looked down at the space between them on the mat. It sounded disgraceful but she couldn’t think of anything else to say with Hastiin Sani watching her like a hawk. She had a feeling he would notice a lie the second it slipped through her lips.
“He? Your traveling partner was a man. Did he talk like a song?”
Seta looked up, meeting the old man’s wise gaze as she thought about the melodic lilt to Eron’s voice.
Hastiin Sani smiled. “I have a power too. I see many things that are unseen. I see you are the same as a white man who visited here long ago when I was just a child. I know he has not aged as you will not age.”
“You know Eron.”
“Eron is a friend. He fought with us. He honored my people.”
And he sent her to them? As a gift? Were they to kill her because he and Christian could not?
“He did not cast you away, as you say, because he does not care.”
“How do you know that?”
“I see the unseen. I see you are of the people who invaded our land, killed our people, and stole our home, forcing us to fight for what little land we cling to now.” He reached out and held her chin, tipping it up. “I see in your skin you are not pure. Within your blood you are with us.”
&nb
sp; “What do you mean?” Seta asked. She knew she was not as fair-skinned as her mother and father, and others had commented on it before. She’d caught her father looking at her with derision sometimes after people would comment on her darker hue and she had tried to deprive herself of the sun’s harm as much as possible, struggling to be the beautiful pale her father and other men adored in their women, but she always kept a soft golden bronze despite her best efforts.
“Someone in your line was of our people. I see it and feel it. You are of this very tribe.”
How? Her mother had visited this land before, but with her father. Her mother spoke of the natives as if they were brutal warriors. She never mentioned any relatives or even friends among the people.
“Your Navajo blood is part of why you are as powerful as you are. I see the great magic in you. I see the strength.” He smiled, his chest filled with pride as his gaze rove over her. The smile slackened and turned downward with compassion as he spoke again. “I see your pain. Your journey here started with great loss.”
Seta nodded, too much emotion in her throat to speak.
“You lost someone, not to the spirits, but to man. This is why Eron sent you here.”
“You can get my son back?” Seta struggled to rein in hope, fearful of the pain it would cause if there was nothing the people could do.
Hastiin Sani shook his head, laughing. “You never lost him!”
He stood and reached down to help her up. Seta accepted his hand, marveling at the agility he still possessed at his age, and eager to learn what he meant.
His laughing eyes grew stern. “Eron was not of our blood but he came to share our spirit. He protected us and we in turn protected him. There are rules.”
Seta straightened her shoulders and listened intently, knowing she was about to be told how to behave if she wanted the tribe’s protection.
“You drink no blood that is not offered to you freely or given in battle.”
Her eyes widened.
“Yes, I know what you and Eron are. You have more gifts than him. You should be trusted less but you are our blood. You belong here and we will accept you as long as you do not give us reason not to. We expect you to only use your power to aid us, not to harm.”
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