“Seta.”
Seta bristled at the sound of the melodic voice coming from behind her.
“I did not call upon you.”
“It has been months, Seta.”
Eron appeared next to her at the canyon’s edge, having not made a sound as he walked across the red earth to stand at her side, but he wouldn’t have. He was not there.
“I can feel your anger across the ocean.”
“A wise man would know better than to stand before a wolf who wants him ripped to pieces.” She looked over at him, refusing to be softened by the sorrow in his emerald eyes. “I suppose that is why you came to me in this way rather than offering your flesh.”
“We have not spoken since that night outside the castle when we both met in this form. When we kissed. Did it anger you so?”
Seta laughed. “Do you think a kiss would anger me? It was the lie behind the kiss. The betrayal.”
He frowned. “I do not understand. I have never lied to you.”
“You pretended to care about me.”
“That was never pretend. I care deeply for you. I am your sire. You can feel what is in my heart.”
“You are a fine actor. Your actions tell me more than your words ever could.”
“Seta, what have I done?”
She gestured to the inner depths of the canyon where several hogans had been built in haste as her people traveled away from the place she’d killed so many men. “Those are my people down there, my family. They are hunted as I am but we are able to protect one another. They keep me safe when the sun is out and I guard over them the rest of the time. They are strong people, good people. I wanted to raise my son among them so we could be together and he could learn how to be a strong warrior from his grandfather and uncle.”
“Seta, you know that can not be.”
“Yes, I know. I made plans to board a ship to Italy. I could not cross the water. One moment I was stepping onto the ship, the next I was back with the tribe. I dug through my memory, through all the spells my grandmother had bestowed upon me in the dream realm, and I learned I could cast a spell to physically transport myself wherever I wanted to go. It works here. I can move to the bottom of this canyon with only a thought. I can not go to Rome. I can not go to my son.”
“I lived with these people once. Living with them is not that different from living as a vampire. I have checked on them over the years. Their way of life is threatened more each day. Rialto would not be as safe here as he is with his father.”
“I am his mother. It is not your place to decree where he is safest. It is not your place to keep me away from my son.”
“The Navajo gave you a way to see him.”
“To look at him, Eron. Do you know the pain of seeing your son and not being able to touch him? To see the stain of tears on his cheeks and not be able to console him? What am I to do as he gets older? I can only appear as a ghost to him. I will not be able to tell him who I am and risk him telling his father. Roberto Garibaldi is an evil man with a great deal of authority. If he could not take his anger out on me, he would take it out on him.”
“I do not know this pain personally,” Eron spoke softly. “I do know the pain of never seeing my child age, of never knowing what she might have been. I know the pain of seeing my child’s name on a grave marker. It is a pain far greater than anyone should ever be asked to bear and the spell I used to send you here is to help spare you the pain of not seeing your son grow into a man. I would give anything just to see my child again, just to see her breathe.”
“It hurts.”
“I told you before that you will be with him again. I did not lie.”
“The curse—”
“It is a spell, Seta, not a curse. There will be a time when your son needs you. At that time the spell will be broken and you will be sent to his side just as you were sent here. I can not give you the day or the hour and I know it hurts you to wait. I am truly sorry for that.”
Seta’s body relaxed as much of her anger left, leaving her with a mass of sorrow. “I am sorry you lost your daughter. I do not understand how you are able to continue living. I would not be strong enough to do so if not for the hope of being with Rialto again.”
“My daughter was innocent and I know she and her mother went to the Lord. I am afraid my death would only send me to another level of hell. At least in this version I am able to help others. Whether I live or die, I will never see my precious Clodagh again. I know you do not trust men easily after what happened to you, Seta, but know this… I would give my life before I ever allowed you to feel the pain of truly losing your son. I never thought I would love another after losing my family. I love you, Seta, whether you believe it or not, and if doing what is necessary to protect you and your son causes you to never want to see me again, I will rest easy just knowing my pain will one day give you the happiness you deserve.”
Seta took a deep breath, willing the tears forming to stay behind her eyes.
“We are linked. I will always be just a thought away if you need me.”
“Eron—”
He was gone.
TEN
1815
Rialto stood on the edge of the cliff, looking down to the water below. He tossed a pebble and watched it bounce from the crags beneath him until it eventually disappeared. Something about the cliff called to him. The place even appeared in his dreams, sometimes the woman did too.
“I know you are there,” he said, turning toward the tree line to see her. She was beautiful with long, flowing black hair and tanned skin as if she’d bathed in the sun and it had left her covered with its essence, and power. So much power. Behind her dark eyes he knew she held more wisdom than every teacher he’d ever had combined and those ruby red lips could curse a man with barely a whisper.
He did not fear her. She, and this cliff, held a secret, a secret that would not harm him. Maybe a secret that would explain to him who he really was, and where he really belonged.
“They speak of you in the village. I hear the whispers.”
She stepped forward, her long dress covering her feet so he could not positively tell, but she appeared to glide toward him.
“What do they say?” she asked, standing before him. She was petite so she looked up at him. At thirteen years of age, he already stood at six feet.
“Some say you are a witch and you are watching us, waiting to curse us. Some say you are an angel watching over us, protecting us.”
She smiled, ever so little. Her eyes held too much sorrow for her to appear truly happy. “What do you think?”
He reached out to touch her hair but she backed away as if afraid of his touch, or what he might find.
“I know you have always been here. I know you have a story to tell. You can tell me.”
She shook her head, frowning. The sadness in her eyes pulled at his heart. As far back as he could remember, he’d known her. He’d catch her watching him from behind trees, especially when he came to the cliff. There were a few times when he was a young boy that he swore she watched over him as he drifted off to sleep. He would wake from bad dreams, see her, and go right back to sleep, knowing she guarded over him. There were times he wished she were his mother instead of the hateful woman who bore him. It was a terrible thing, he knew, to dishonor his mother, even if only by thought, but the countess was a cold-hearted woman. It amazed him how someone so dead inside could give life.
“Are you an angel? You watch over me.”
She laughed a little, the sound sad. “I am no angel. I am far from such a holy being.”
“You watch over me.”
She nodded.
“Why?”
Her gaze roamed over his face, her eyes filling with such a strong degree of pure love, Rialto’s chest tingled as if touched by magic.
“You are a very special young man. I will always be with you.”
Rialto glanced at the castle in the distance, the prison that held him apart from those his father felt wer
e beneath him, the building he was forced to share with a mother who’d never shown him any form of affection, and back to the small woman before him who made him feel loved just by being near.
“Can you take me away from this place?”
She gasped and tears fell from her eyes. Pain hit Rialto like a sledgehammer to his chest.
“What have I said? I am sorry! Please do not cry.”
“One day,” she whispered, and disappeared.
Rialto reached out, grasping at air in hope of reclaiming her.
“One day? What will happen one day? Who are you?” He turned, looking out over the cliff. “Why do I feel you as if you are part of me?”
Cool wind breezed past, blowing Rialto’s hair away from his brow. He stood at the cliff’s edge, watching the water move below. He searched the crags with his eyes, feeling deep within his heart there was a mystery to be discovered in this place. It was irrational, pure nonsense, but he believed in it as much as he believed in the air he breathed.
A subtle change to the wind alerted him to her presence. He turned, but she did not stand before him. Yet, she was there. He felt her loving eyes on him. Her presence wrapped around him like a blanket, keeping him safe and warm, just as it had every night he’d come to the cliff since speaking with her.
“I know you are here,” he said. “You do not have to show yourself. I only wish I knew your name so I knew who my guardian angel was.”
The air around him stirred in a frenzy and he felt her leave, but not before he heard the slightest whisper on the wind.
“Seta.”
1831
The villagers’ eyes fell upon him and quickly fell away as Rialto walked down the street with his guard at his side. Well over six feet tall and muscular, Rialto felt the guard unnecessary but his father demanded he never leave the castle without one at his side.
“I do not know why you wish to walk among these people,” the guard muttered. “They are all beneath you.”
“Are they my people?”
“Well, yes.”
“Is my family not supposed to care for and protect our people?”
The guard sighed. “This is where the servants shop and trade wares. You could associate with a higher class of your people.”
“I refuse to look at these people as if they are garbage simply because of a matter of breeding,” Rialto said as he rounded a corner and ran right into a small woman, knocking a small barrel of apples out of her hands. He quickly knelt down to help her.
“My apologies, Miss,” he said, gathering up apples along with the woman.
She looked up at him to respond, the smile that had been forming on her face froze as their gazes met. “Rialto.”
“Yes.” He nodded, not unused to strangers knowing who he was. His family was nobility and known throughout the village. Yet, this woman did not look at him the way others did. She was not young enough to be enamored with him as many young ladies were so that was not to blame for the strange awe that overcame her features.
Her eyes filled with moisture as she reached out and cupped his jaw. “Rialto.”
“How dare you touch the—”
“Leave us!” Rialto instructed the guard, extending his arm to block the man before he caused the woman any harm.
“She touched you.”
“I said leave us. I will have you replaced the moment we reach the castle if you do not leave us right this second.”
The guard sputtered for a moment, then left in a huff, unable to come up with a response that would not get him immediately removed from his position.
Once the guard had crossed enough distance to allow them privacy, Rialto stood, helping the woman up as he did. She was not old enough to be fragile, yet he took care with her. He placed her to be beyond her sixtieth year but not near her seventieth. She had once been a very attractive woman and still retained much of that beauty. Her dark eyes reminded him of someone. They held a familiarity that gripped his heart tight.
“Have we met before?”
“You would not remember me,” she said, as tears traveled her cheeks. “You look so much like your mother.”
Rialto frowned. He didn’t look anything like his mother. Then the woman blinked, allowing more tears to fall and he saw the image of the woman by the cliff crying. It was as if he looked into the same eyes.
The world around him seemed to spin as his chest grew tight and his head swam. He’d never looked like his mother. He’d never felt a bond with her as he should have. He’d always felt she hated him, resented him in some way. But the woman on the cliff… his guardian angel … He felt her love.
“Who is Seta?” he asked the woman.
“My daughter. Your mother. Your real mother.”
Shock rocked him to his core, but soon understanding settled him. It made sense why he’d felt drawn to the woman, safe. He’d never felt anything toward the countess but contempt. She was not his mother and did not love him. He was another woman’s child, a reminder his father had been with another woman, and she hated it. He’d been right that such a cold, dead on the inside, hateful woman couldn’t give birth. But …
“How did my real mother die?”
The woman before him, his grandmother, stood straight, staring him in the eye with nostrils flaring. “Count Roberto Garibaldi used her to gain an heir and when you were only one year old, he took you from her to be raised in the castle. Your mother loved you and she fought for you. He threw her over the cliff outside his castle. He killed her.”
Rialto looked into the woman’s eyes and knew she told the truth, about his father being a killer, and about his real mother loving him. She still did. She had never left him. Suddenly the mystery of the cliff’s pull on him had come to light and he knew what he had to do.
“Do not weep anymore, Grandmother. My mother’s death will be avenged this day.”
“Hastiin Sani has asked for you.”
Seta opened her eyes to look up into her brother’s face. It had aged in the years she’d been with the Navajo tribe but still retained its strong, handsome features.
“It is still day.”
“He does not have until night.”
Seta immediately sat up. “He is sure?”
Atsidi nodded. “The Great Spirit will take him soon.”
Seta took a deep breath, collecting herself so she remained strong for Hastiin Sani in his final hours, and once she had her emotions under control, she pictured him and within her next breath she was in his hogan at his side.
“You are very good at that.” He smiled, his eyes still sparkling with life though time had weakened his body.
Seta kneeled at his side and took his hand in both of hers.
“Are you sure time has come?”
“Yes. Do not look so sad. I have lived many years and received many blessings from The Great Spirit. I am leaving with the knowledge my people are strong. I have no regrets except that I never had the chance to meet my great grandson face to face. I do have the joy of knowing you will be reunited with him soon.”
Seta smiled, forcing herself to not show any doubt over that. She did not want him to die with regret or with concern for her. “Yes, and I will tell him of his strong ancestors.”
“You will. Tonight, focus on saving him first.”
“What?” Seta looked at Atsidi as he entered the hogan. He shook his head, not understanding either, and sat beside her.
“I have had a vision, Seta, and I have talked to the woman in the blue trees.”
“The Dream Teller?”
He nodded. “You will be returned to your son tonight. This is your last day with us.”
Elation filled her chest but was quickly dampened by loss. “This is my family. Rialto’s family. I will return with him.”
“No, Seta.” Hastiin Sani squeezed her hand. “You have served us well here. You have protected us and made your people proud. You will not be forgotten. It is time for you to protect others where you are needed.”
“I do not understand.”
“You are as much vampire as you are Navajo. You have a duty to your people.”
“You are my people.”
“So are they. Hastiin Hashtaal sent you here to help us. Now you must help him.”
“I have not spoken to him in over twenty years. He could come to me at any time but he has not.”
“Yet… has he not always been with you?”
Seta looked away. She felt him now. She always felt him. He was her sire.
“I do not want to leave you.”
“The Great Spirit will take me soon. There is no staying for me.”
“My people…” She looked at Atsidi, noting the tears he refused to let fall.
“We will always be with you in your heart, and you with us,” he said. “Only greed would allow me to keep my sister here when she needs to be with her son. Only greed would allow you to come back with us when you are needed with your other family.”
No longer able to hold her tears back, they slid down her face as she reached out to Atsidi.
“I will miss you very much,” she said, now holding each of their hands.
“Hastiin Bidziil will be proud as I tell him of his children,” Hastiin Sani said as he closed his eyes for the last time.
“Hastiin Sani?” Seta leaned over to check his pulse and fell forward.
Her palm hit brown dirt. Looking up she saw a castle in the distance, appearing blue in the moonlight.
“Mother.”
She turned and saw her son lying on the cliff, dark liquid staining his white shirt.
“Rialto!” She rushed to him, kneeling at his side. She placed her hands on his chest, and found she could touch him. She had been returned to him as promised.
“What is this?” she cried as she removed her hands to find them covered in blood.
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