A Court For Fairies (Dark Heralds Book 1)

by Lynn S.

  “What are you?”

  Both Adriana and her instinct understood that question had opened a door. They made their best to work on that moment of doubt; the blink of his olive green eyes and the quick frown of his eyebrows denoted confusion. Humanity over duty. Adriana was about to try a winning hand. She smiled sensuously, showing perfectly even teeth, tempting Bastian to forget what had brought them to that alley in the first place.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk…Saint Sebastian.” She clicked her tongue almost taunting. “I expected a bit more from my executioner.”

  A slight jolt in the wrist showed her Bastian was taken aback, doubting whether or not she was human. And yet a simple cut could make her skin boil and sizzle and he’d find his excuse. She had never been so close to danger, and yet, she found him so…endearing. She had to try to see how far he’d be willing to let her go. If he happened to kill her, she’d make sure to keep them both entertained until the last drop was spilled upon the floor. “Don’t tell me your books don’t make mention of my kind. Surely, you must have made it at least to that page before they sent you out into the streets. We are bound to our sires not just by blood, but also flesh. We are impossible children, conceived of a union in which desire is stronger than death.”

  “Dhampyrs. There is no such thing.” He was quick to answer, and Adriana found herself taking offense. He even chuckled before he was done. “There is only one branch within blood suckers who could produce them, and vampyrs are long gone. Dhampyrs are but tales spun by traveling Romani who love to embellish their bloodlines with dangerous stories.”

  She never wanted to slap someone as much as in that moment, so she let the instinct take a peek, to see if this could end with the man’s head rolling and hers on her shoulders. Somehow, the voice inside her head found Bastian as alluring as she did. It simply whispered two words: listen and yours. Could it be? Had her nature found something…someone to trade her damned allegiance to her father? Something that could be truly hers, without the bloody benediction of Pappa Popescu?

  “And yet, here I am.” Her answer was confident. “You can feel me.” Adriana took a deep breath, stretching her body against Bastian. “That is the warmth of my skin underneath the thin fabric of my blouse. You could, if only you dared, wipe the pearly sweat off my brow…you have scared me enough, you know. But if you decide to be cruel and cut, yes, my skin will sizzle, but my blood will flow rich and red, just like yours, pumped by a beating heart.”

  She was used to playing the enchantress; the smile always ready on her generous lips, the lively spark in her eyes, the power to compel behind every word. But this time her reaction was involuntary. Her instinct reached out through the pores of her skin, and her aroma became nothing short of enticing. Adriana was taken by surprise once more—her instinct really wanted her to close this deal. Her eyes became heavy lidded and her breath short but deep. She dared to reach out and touch him, not quite sure if he’d act upon the blade. The tip of her fingers caressed the side of his face and then rested upon his neck—a healing touch that eased the tension between them and allowed her to force her heart to beat alongside his.

  Bastian eased the blade down, but his body remained intimately pressed against hers and it was becoming obvious that it was pleasurable. He held her close enough to almost brush her lips with is. In half light and at a distance, if anyone wandered into that alley, it would have been easy to conclude that they were but two lovers on their way to ending a quarrel.

  “Who are you?”

  “Adriana Popescu. You might not have heard about me, but you surely know my clan. My family is notorious in your books. I live with the monsters that you have read of in your pages.”

  She might have been thinking of a way out, but the pain in her voice was legitimate. Bastian understood right then and there what he was dealing with.

  Legend spoke of a Romanian Cardinal, loved by the Pope himself, who oversaw his sins and offenses. However, when a romantic affair with the daughter of a powerful count brought a royal house down in shame, he was given to men’s justice. Excommunicated and deprived of his position for conceiving a bastard child, he was soon condemned to hang, though his lover pleaded it had been consensual and she’d rather marry him than see him die. But the looming noose blamed but one, and that was the way the nobility would have it. He hung, and then rose from the grave, having been denied entrance to both heaven and hell. Excommunication and a burial in unhallowed ground granted he become a vampire. Upon his return, not a single soul survived his thirst for blood and vengeance. In a night, a whole bloodline was wiped off the Earth, and only his lover remained, trapped in the agony of childbirth, trying to deliver a baby that might kill her and then die anyway. The vampire waited patiently for the birth of his son, feeding his own blood to the dehydrated lips of a mother who slowly faded away, just to grant her enough strength to finish it. The woman drank greedily from the deep cut on his forearm, sating both thirst and threshold of death madness, transmitting that terrible transformed blood into the creature inside her, changing both vampire and victim in the process.

  The boy was finally born, the last effort of a dying mother and an undead father, forever between the world of the living and that of the dead. A new kind of vampire and offspring came to be that night. The beast that lurked in shadows claimed the child as a trophy and disappeared into the night. Both father and son were lost to time. The Popescu terrorized the coast of the Black Sea for ages, thriving on the legend of vampires that ruled the night and had eyes during the day. There were vampyrs, a new breed, daughters and sons of darkness, enabled to create ties of affection with certain humans who could bear them children.

  Adriana found quite amusing that anything linked Popescu and affection, but books were books.

  “If this is true, you are not a vampyr, but you can lead me to one. The blood of your sire is beyond valuable and I need it desperately to help a friend. The blood of a vampyr is toxic to the Dark Heralds of Fae.”

  As soon as he finished talking, Bastian realized he had said a little too much, and that was not his style. The attraction he felt for the blonde waitress was distracting. He had forgotten to avert his stare, rather losing himself in Adriana’s gaze. He was strong enough to take a step back, though his whole body ached for her. He had dealt with various creatures given to mesmerize: witches capable of injecting memories with a touch just to tamper with desire, selkies promising a kiss with the taste of wonders of the deep blue sea, succubi armed with lethal caresses. None had moved him like this woman. Not looking her in the eye proved even harder, because the platinum strands of hair that plastered to her face and rested on her clavicle begged to be run through with his fingers until, securing the base of her neck, he’d drag her into a deep, passionate kiss. And still, he managed to follow through.

  Her little smile pointed toward her not being disappointed, as if Adriana was happy not to be able to use his weakness to her advantage. She was willing enough to keep giving the information he needed.

  “Your books are mistaken. If you let me…catch my breath a little, I assure you I can help. You don’t need to be so mean and keep scaring me with that blade. I have been weakened enough by the silver pressing against my skin. If I run, you can certainly catch me.”

  “Are you offering Cliff Notes now?” The confident smile he had shown quite a few times at the restaurant was back.

  Adriana made a mental note to catch up with that later and met him with a slight shrug and the wink of an eye. Free of the oppressive metal, the blonde raised her hands in mock surrender. She was weakened indeed, Bastian noticed.

  “Dark Fae, vampires, you believe everything that has ever roamed the night is related somehow. Be it for pride or because they believe in fierce individuality, vampires are more than eager to set these misconceptions straight. I’ll tell you something between friends. There’s nothing capable of pissing off a vampire more than a dark fairy. This is evident among vampyrs more so than in any other blood sucker.” She w
as relaxed enough to let her guard down and speak at ease. Bastian found it quite amusing. “Your Heralds are nothing but cheap knockoffs, dancing marionettes. Fae that have become blood junkies. They want to keep their ground in this world by using magic, but magic tears them apart from the inside. They owe something to everyone who might lend it. Their only advantage is that they can latch to the human soul and feed off it. Be it that you believe the soul resides here…” her index finger touched Bastian’s temple, “…or here.” Adriana rested her hand upon his chest, right atop his heart. She drummed her fingers, testing, before allowing herself to outline the buttons of Bastian’s shirt.

  “Their only target is to destroy your life and your sanity. Some centuries ago, they stole quite a precious secret from my clan. I can’t make it clear enough that vampyrs hate to be taken for fools. We did them a favor, but after that, it was made so that our blood would be their perdition. One drop of a vampyr’s blood can stun them; a vial can surely kill them. Junkies they are, don’t doubt it, but they are crafty also. They can smell vampyr blood from a mile away. Take that, and the fact that our clan’s blood is almost black and halfway to gooey…a Herald will never drink it on his or her own. But my blood, it has the same effect but the smell and consistency is untraceable. I smell nothing, if not delicious.”

  Peaches and cream, Bastian thought.

  “And so, my dear Adriana…am I to believe this is all in good faith?”

  “Oh, it is, Saint Sebastian. I will not only render my services, but will kick it up a notch. I’ll give you a little something to brag about with your sulky nerd club. I’ll deliver the head of my clan.”

  The words rushed out of her while her insides shook to the core. If she had misinterpreted the will of her instinct, the entity could strangle her from the inside in order to preserve the life of its sire. It kept silent as the grave. It turned out that Papa Popescu’s humiliations and mistreatments had struck a deep chord, enough for a joint rebellion.

  So long, Pappa Popescu, and his barbaric ways. Of all the vampires in existence, her clan was the one that professed loving their human counterparts to the point of procreating. But in seven hundred years, her father did nothing other than seduce human women whose names he never cared to learn and impregnated them with his cold seed, just to bring about creatures like Adriana.

  One after another her tyrant father destroyed his sons as soon as their instinct started to manifest. Popescu feared the blood lust might rise and another, younger, more powerful vampyr would see to his fate. He struck them down by sword or killed them with his own hands, always saying it was done for the cause of justice and the survival of the clan. Adriana had been overlooked by virtue of being a woman. She had learned to play subservient if needed, but she’d be damned if she ever forgot.

  She finished exchanging words with Bastian. The information reached the hunters but the Portuguese man was true to his word, never revealing the source. There was a waiting game that lasted for days, as Adriana second guessed herself about trusting this man. She woke up more than once in a sweat, thinking they might fail and she’d meet her father’s retaliation. Or worse, the hunters would not be satisfied with just one target. She got a grip and faced her fears as she had always done, counting the days and waiting for either Bastian or his Manhattan friend to show up at the restaurant. Eventually, Adriana discovered, to her own peace of mind and unexpected pleasure, that she had come to miss that cocky Portuguese man and his risky antics.

  The moment Adriana heard her instinct speak in full sentences, she knew she was safe. The thing inside her was gleeful, even grateful, as it settled on being as much a friend as a fiend. Bastian returned, but this time she invited him into her apartment. She opened the door, more eager that she credited herself to be. There he was, leaning against her doorway, but never quite taking her invitation. Bastian simply smiled and gave her a nod, handing her a piece of opaque mirror encased in an ash wood frame, in which part of her father’s ashes had been consecrated.

  “A well thought gift—a token of appreciation, if you will.” The thing hummed, as if thirsty for blood. It was not only ashes, but part of her father’s essence. Bastian had been careful not to dispatch the vampyr completely, but to bind his spirit to the other side. Ever living, guaranteeing that the vampyr-dhampyr bond could not be broken, endangering Adriana’s life. “Did you think this through? Were you willing to die to rid yourself of a monster? Will I have to proofread all your crazy plans from now on?”

  “A chain that has not been broken for a thousand years.” Adriana held the piece in her hand, taking its weight before looking Bastian in the eye and biting her lower lip. “Hmmm…it seems you won’t mind looking after crazy old me.”

  “Let’s start by keeping your promise. I need a vial of your blood, and I need you…” He finally gave in and fixed that unruly curl that kept her right eye hidden. “I need you to promise me that you will never take that step. That you won’t drink of live flesh and become a vampyr. I want to hear it, Adriana—you will keep yourself a dhampyr for the rest of your days.”

  She kept silent. The decision was not entirely her own, but the voice inside her head was quiet and compliant, telling her it was okay to entrust such a big part of her life in the hands of this man. It pushed her toward him, trying to be at peace, tired or curious, perhaps. She smiled modestly and closed her eyes. It was a sign of genuine affection, her own weird way of saying she was willing to trust, for once. And then, opening her eyes once more, Adriana raised her hand to his cheekbone, tracing the contour of his face and lips.

  “Are you sure that is all you need of me?” Adriana had been hardened by her life with her father, and sometimes, even if she tried, it was impossible for her to say something that didn’t strike as direct or hurtful. She was a creature outside time who had seen enough of human suffering to understand it was all of the essence. “You are dying, Sebastian. Now that my father is gone and my instinct is free, I can not only perceive it but I feel it. I can smell the bitter sweet of your blood and grasp it through your skin. Tiny cells, spreading disease and eating away your blood…vampires in their own fashion.”

  Bastian took her hand, placing a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist that made her tingle. He smiled at her, eyes first, then lips, as was his way.

  “You have no idea what you are offering, sweetheart. It has cost me a lot to protect you. I have promised a lot of people you will never meet that I won’t hear a word about promises of life, eternal or extended. Don’t you try to play fortuneteller. I know exactly how much life I have left and I plan to make the best of it.”

  They didn’t speak about it again. Not until weeks after that terrible affair with the O’Reillys was done and over with and Bastian showed up on her doorstep again. That condition never changed. When they finally took it a step further, as dictated by their inevitable attraction, it was both sweet and passionate while it lasted. She made herself human for him, to honor the time they’d spend together. When their daughter, Marissa, was born, Sebastian had been dead for two months already. Adriana swore she’d hate him because of that. She even told him so, minutes before kissing those lips that cancer had rendered into thin, wasted lines. He simply told her, “Maybe when I’m gone you’ll get good at lying again. I love you, and I know that both you and Marissa will be fine. I’m just glad you’ll keep her human, for us.”

  Once, Marissa asked Adriana, “Did you ever love my father?”

  She answered, “I don’t know, back then love got complicated with a whole lot of other things.”

  Chapter XIII

  Strangers In The Night–Part II

  Manhattan, 1984

  “This should be more than enough.” The glass vial was no bigger than those little fragrance replicas they gave out in stores. Sebastian held about one ounce of a red emulsion, kept from coagulating by a couple of drops of salicylic acid, between his thumb and index finger. “You must grant me access, O’Reilly. Find any excuse, invite me over as a business
partner. Once I am there, it will be a matter of mixing this solution with food or drink and the worst will be over.

  Neil took the vial off Bastian’s hands, rising it to the level of his eye, squinting. Bastian didn’t want to add pressure to the moment with obvious observations but Neil’s health had been steadily decaying. O’Reilly looked a lot worse than he, and he had started a heavy dose of oral chemotherapy. His friend’s pallor was about to cross from pale into translucent, as if tired of sheltering his beaten body. Hematomas were flourishing. What started as black and blue bruises in unnoticeable places were now something akin to small, scaly sarcomas, crusty on top of his skin. Isabel had been feeding without concern and Bastian knew exactly why.

  Unlike humans, the gestation process for Fae was roughly seven months. Most changelings were born premature by human standards and finished developing outside of the womb. Neil was unaware, but depending on how long his wife waited to announce the pregnancy, Isabel could well be on the verge of birthing. Time was of the essence.

  Sebastian had no doubt the Heralds had marked O’Reilly for breeding solely based on his resilience. Another man would have died long ago.

  “No,” Neil interrupted. “This is something I must do. If I happen to fail, then you are welcome to try.”

  Bastian mumbled something, perhaps in his native tongue. Neil had learned he switched to Portuguese when utterly frustrated. After taking a deep breath, he added, “That is an unorthodox way to go about it.” He wanted to add something else, but chose silence at that moment. Bastian had quite an interesting skeleton in his closet and rather measured his words. He was coming to understand that his interest in Adriana went beyond research, and keeping her off the books, so to speak, made him feel guilty.

  For the first time, Bastian was truly considering how devastating it could be to have a hand in destroying something you loved. The spell had been broken for months and still O’Reilly felt for that woman. And though Bastian had his doubts about the man crossing the line between genuine love and sickly obsession, he granted, after all they’d been through, Neil deserved the benefit of trust.