by Unknown
"They are going to convert me," Stohl said. "It begins tomorrow."
Dierk's expression was one of patient persuasion. He shook his head and reached out to clasp Stohl's shoulder. "I don't think you should do it. You never wanted this life."
"It is my life."
"And you hate it. You cannot lie to me, Stohl. I am your king and I am your friend. You never wanted this."
"But my bite was the strongest—"
"Because your bite was the angriest. It held the most passion. You, above all others, felt cursed. You were always angry. When you gave your bite you gave it with anger. Anger because you believed someone took your life and gave you another in its place. You felt betrayed. You felt denied, and whenever you gave your bite, you wished for another to suffer as you have."
"Wishing doesn't make something so."
"Sometimes it does. Relative to the world in which we live, Stohl, we are magic. We are Were because of something magical that lives inside us. Blessing or curse, it is all magic."
"Then why don't all wishes come true? I thought you wanted her." He gestured at me with a sharp darting swipe. "What about your wish?"
Dierk stood and walked to the steps, herding me in front of him. "If all our wishes came true, they'd lose their meaning. Denial of one thing gives us appreciation for the others."
He slipped in a CD as he drove me back to the Stocks and the sounds of speeding guitars and crashing drums swallowed the silence. I jumped in my seat when I heard a much younger Dierk's voice shouting out of the speakers.
"Holy cow," I said. "What year was this?"
"Eighty-nine." He grinned, looking every one of those twenty-odd years younger. "A little on the thrash side, you think?" He shook his head playfully like a head banger, earning some puzzled looks from people on the sidewalk alongside us. I smiled politely and gave them the horns up salute as the light turned green.
I laughed as he sang along. Well, I guess it wasn't really singing; he was more or less shouting quietly.
"Don't you remember this?"
"A little. I was more into Bon Jovi at the time."
"Oh yeah," he replied. "Pretty boys and their pop music. I thought you liked real rock."
"I do. It's just that your later albums are a lot more polished."
"A producer and a real studio tend to have that effect on your sound. But this, this is where it all began. This is where we realized we were not going to play in basements and woods and bars forever. This album was a dream come true. Just listen to the words."
"Those are words? It sounds like gahdahgahdahda."
"Must I put you out on the curb?" He scolded me with a wag of his index finger. "Now. Listen to the words."
We listened. It was easier to interpret. The sound, though, man—the music had an unfamiliar groove, a heartbeat beneath the surface of the song.
"That was Rudy," he said. "My first bassist. He wrote that song just after he'd been bitten and you can hear how he felt. The anger. The fear. In anyone else they would be blind emotion. But when there is music behind the words, emotions gain purpose. What a brilliant lyricist he was."
"What happened to him? You make him sound all past tense."
"Because he is passed. Rudy was killed in a succession challenge the year after this came out."
The song ended, and in between the tracks silence dragged a little. He clicked off the radio. "Rudy wrote most of the songs on this. After he was gone I took inspiration from his memory and used the lyrics as a chronicle. Who we are and what we are. What we live and die for. I started to write the literary reference songs to keep the mainstream interest, but it's the Were tales that mean most to me. They are what make me feel like a real bard. I sing our history, and most of the world is unaware."
"Like me," I said. "I listened for years and never suspected they were any less imaginary than your fantasy music."
"Exactly, but now you know. Can you listen to us the same way again?" I don't think he meant the question to be rhetorical, but I didn't answer him. "So, you don't listen to the early recording." He ejected the CD and handed it to me. "Listen to it again, just for me, sometime. Go beyond the non-Bon Jovi and really hear us. Even then, we were an all-Were group. Try to hear us as we were—young, full of rage and wonder, full of life and promise, ready to take on the world."
He drove up the long driveway, a little more slowly than he usually did, and parked in front of the porch. He peered up at the house through the windshield as he turned the key in the ignition.
I didn't move. I just sat and stared out the window, feeling very different than the day he'd first driven me home.
"You will be okay without me." He sounded confident. "The oath, I mean. The Were won't give you any grief. Someone will always be looking out for you."
"Oh," I said. "That. You, um… when is your flight?"
"Early tomorrow. Short layover in London, then home. I have been away much longer than anyone anticipated."
Tomorrow. Just like that he'd be gone.
"If you are ever in Mannheim—" He flipped down the visor and slid out a manila envelope, handing it to me. "You have this, at least."
I peeked inside. My passport. I folded the envelope shut and stuck it in my bag. I pinched my lips, hiding the grimace. "I… don't travel much."
"I know," he said quietly.
"Do you think we will stay in touch?"
"Of course." He smiled and smoothly hid the lie in his eyes. "Of course, we will."
Always the rock star. Make this star-struck girl feel like she's really a special one. All the world is a stage and each life is just another scene to get through. Just leave on a high note, Soph. I reached for the handle.
"Oh, I almost forgot." He fumbled in his coat pocket and pulled out a small box. "This, I got for you. It would never be for anyone else. If nothing else, remember me."
"Always," I whispered. I held the box so tightly my fingers hurt. "Remember me, too."
"Destiny may have another future for me, Sophie." He searched my eyes, treating me to one last glimpse of coffee and champagne, the king and the commoner. It would be a flavor I wouldn't soon forget. "But your name will always be carved upon my heart."
I watched his car pull away, his farewell kiss still tingling on my lips. I didn't have to open the box to know it held a ring. It was probably beautiful. Maybe one day I'd open it and find out.
No matter how I criticized Dierk for listening to destiny, I knew I was being hypocritical. After all, I'd been content to allow destiny to push me around for a long time now. At least he was man enough to admit it out loud.
Maybe the happy puppet is the one who loves his strings rather than the one who would hang herself fighting them.
I don't know what I expected would happen now that the Leni was over and Dierk was gone. An oppression had been lifted, a heaviness to the air that I had only noticed once it was gone. I learned how to breathe deeply again. Although my future with the Were and the Witchkinder was still murky at best, the almost-overwhelming anxiety over turning Were was over, for good.
Dierk had once told me he thought lycanthropy was the ultimate vaccine. I guess he never figured he'd be faced with a mate who had an immunity of a different kind altogether.
I tried to look on the brightest side of things. At least I'd never have to worry about Turning. Didn't think I'd be tempting fate by encouraging bites any time soon. I was still a bleeder. And bleeding still sucked.
And, although I enjoyed that particular sense of relief, I wasn't at peace. Relief from one stress only made it possible for me to concentrate on another.
Rodrian.
I hadn't seen him since Saturday morning. I'd called, but hung up when it went to voicemail because I couldn't find the words. I wanted to say Come home but wasn't sure what he called home anymore since Aurelia got her teeth into him. It wasn't like the Stocks was his actual home, anyway. But it was my home, and he was my family, even if he didn't want to be family anymore.
; I called it his home. In my heart, that was all that mattered.
I texted him a few times from work on Wednesday, but heard nothing back. Nothing on the answering machine when I got home, either. I'd resigned myself to another evening of microwave fried chicken and reruns of Supernatural when the doorbell rang and I felt a pulse of DV power.
I was so relieved I didn't even question why he didn't just come in. He knew the alarm code as well as I did.
But I did know that sometimes Rodrian fell back on antiquated manners and stiff protocol when he wasn't sure familiarity was appropriate. He'd always been a gentleman, albeit a scandalous one.
I punched in the code and yanked the door open, expecting a huge hug, manners or no. The power was a strange shade of Rodrian, as if he were so excited he couldn't think straight. That made two of us.
Safe to say I was perfectly stunned by the blast of power that sent me staggering backwards as if I'd been hit by a cannon ball. I tripped over my feet and landed hard on my backside, head dazed and vision swimming, squinting and trying to see what had hit me.
When I heard the click of hard heels on the tile, I pushed into the steely wall of DV power. Not Rodrian. That had been a ruse. Someone pretending to be him. Someone who knew him well enough to fake him.
Only one someone could have done all this. Only one person would have.
"Aurelia." I sucked in another breath, sharp pain between my lungs. "Get out of my house. Now."
She stalked toward me, one snik at a time, dropping the power ruse. "You just cannot take a hint, can you?"
I gathered myself and tried to push to my feet but she was next to me in a flash, her hand on my head, nails poking into my scalp. She gave me a rude shove downward that sent sparks of pain down my neck, and I hit the ground with my shoulder. I bunched up my barriers, intending to contain her.
She just laughed and bounced my shields back at me. The collision of our powers set up a reverb that made my ears and the front of my brain throb.
"I don't know why you even came back here. You are no longer a necessary resident. I have come back for my mate and my children. They don't need their Were-whoring nanny any longer."
I pulled up my knees, trying to curl up to protect myself. Some lame instinct to protect my vital organs. Never mind, I was being pummeled from the inside by a vicious female DV. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she'd be like if she Fell.
She kicked me onto my back and placed one foot onto my chest. If she stepped down, that heel would skewer me. The look of sadistic delight on her face was a perversion. How anyone so beautiful could be so ugly—
Aurelia flattened her power against me, squashing my barriers. I couldn't fight back, I couldn't breathe past the pain in my chest. She leaned down over her bent knee, smiling. "In fact, I don't think anyone needs you."
She shifted more of her weight onto my chest, the heel digging in like a dagger and I just mentally screamed, unable to think through the panic.
Suddenly, the pressure lifted and she was off me, away from me. I rolled, curled and defenseless, wondering where she went but too afraid to unhunch my shoulders. I couldn't see her feet anywhere.
"What are you doing?" Her voice was a furious screech. "Put me down!"
"I'm not doing…" I couldn't get the air in to speak over a breathy gasp, let alone a full sentence. Screw it. I got onto my hands and knees and looked for her. She squalled like a cat getting her temperature taken, and I followed her voice.
To just below the chandelier. She was dangling in mid-air, kicking and clawing and swinging like a helpless puppet, suspended by an invisible hand.
"Give me one reason why I should."
The voice that answered her was familiar yet foreign, naked anger darkening the tone. I'd know that voice anywhere but never, ever heard it speak with such blackness.
I had to look. Had to see her because I never though her capable of such force. I turned my Sophia sight toward the maelstrom and—blinked. Seeing wasn't necessarily believing.
Shiloh stood in the doorway, still dressed in her training fatigues. Her eyes blazed, hazel and hate-filled, as she stared up at her mother. "Tell me why I shouldn't pull you apart and throw you away?"
"My daughter—" Aurelia started, but her words choked off.
"No. ‘Daughter' isn't a word you deserve to own. A daughter is loved, and cherished, and nurtured. Not abandoned. Not manipulated." She spread her arms, her hands in pale fists. "I am not your daughter."
Aurelia dropped like the invisible hand dropped her and she hit the ground in a crouch, staring up at Shiloh. "You have forgotten your place."
"No. I learned it, thanks to you. I am Demivampire. I am Thurzo. And I do not know you."
"Your family is your place." Aurelia stood, pulling her skirt back into place. She wiped her nose, rubbing a thin red stain between her fingers. "Your father and your mother, your siblings—"
"My family is my place. And Sophie is my family. If you ever so much as curl your nasty lips at her ever again, I will not hesitate to destroy you. Get out."
Aurelia took a step toward her. "Shiloh—"
"Get out!" Shiloh roared, voice of a siren and power of a storm.
Aurelia tossed her head, flipping her hair back. A tiny trickle of blood had leaked from her ear. She didn't waste a glance at me as she stalked to the door. She didn't disguise her power, though. She wanted me dead, and was extremely pissed that she'd been thwarted.
I got a disturbing sense of again. She'd been thwarted again. Things began clicking into place and I didn't want them to. I'd have given anything if they didn't.
When Aurelia passed Shiloh, the girl snapped out a hand and snatched Aurelia by the neck, stopping her in her tracks and making her teeter on her toes.
"Don't come back here again, Aurelia." Shiloh swiveled her head, her eyes cold, and a grim pleasure on her face. "Unless you'd like to spar."
Aurelia pinched her mouth shut and wrenched herself free, an unreadable look in her eyes. She left without speaking a word.
Aurelia's power disappeared as soon as she left the house. Vanished. Gone. Like a storm suddenly blew over.
Thanks to Shiloh.
Her brow lightened when Aurelia's presence left and she ran to me, helping me to my feet and walking me slowly into the den.
Walking hurt. Sitting down hurt more. I'd really landed hard. Great. On top of everything else this month, I probably had a broken ass. How spectacular.
Shiloh didn't say much. I still had a tough time accepting what had happened. That I wasn't safe in my house, unless I had Shiloh to protect me.
"Thanks, kiddo." I gingerly tried to adjust a pillow behind me. "I don't know what I would have done if you didn't—"
"Shh." She smiled, a sweet Shiloh smile. "I'm going to run upstairs and bring down dinner. Whatever you made smells incredible."
The microwave chicken. Huh. Forgot all about it.
"Sophie." She stopped at the door. My neck was stiffening up and I couldn't turn all the way around to see her. "I just want you to know…I wanted to kill her for hurting you."
"Shy, you can't—" I huffed out, knowing what it was like to really hate someone enough to want them gone. "Don't take that onto yourself. That's what hurts your soul. That kind of hate. Don't ever give into that kind of darkness."
"But I got you, sunshine. You can just fix me up when I get too far gone." Her voice held more buoyancy than it should have. "Be back in a hot minute."
And while I sat on the couch, waiting for her to return, the pain of my injuries and the stress of the last month all melted away into a new worry that formed and solidified in my chest. If Shiloh actually thought she could take any risk because the Sophia was just down the hall, she'd really take them. The recklessness of a teenager who had the power of a Thurzo, whose cusp had been supercharged by the Sophia's blood—
What had I created?
What kind of trouble would she get into?
And what if I couldn't always undo t
he damage?
When I got home from work the next day, Rodrian's car was parked in front. There was no mistaking the touch of his power. I chided myself for allowing Aurelia to fool me, and for allowing my emotions to cloud my judgment. Awake. Aware. I could never let my guard down again.
My doubts lifted once I walked inside. The first thing that struck me was the sense of openness in the house, as if a great oppression had been lifted. I hurried upstairs, finding Rodrian in the office, the balcony doors wide open, fresh air pouring in.
He sat in the center floor, staring at nothing, weathering a storm on the inside. When I knelt down beside him, I touched his shoulder. He only lifted a folded sheet of paper and showed me what was written upon it.
See you next year, darling.
There was only one reason she'd write that note, those words, that timing. Only one reason she'd risk running into Shiloh. I knew what that meant. Aurelia was in a family way again.
That's why she said siblings to Shiloh. Shiloh had only ever known her sister. And now, there was a baby on the way.
I couldn't look at Rodrian for a few days after reading that. Sure, I knew they were together, and she was his mate, after all. But the thought of them together like that—it made my stomach hurt. I had no right to the anger, the disappointment, not when I'd been spending every evening with Dierk, chasing my own temporary destiny.
It was almost a welcome distraction, in a way, because it enabled me to avoid asking what had happened the night he had shifted forward on his evolutionary clock. His power felt murky, unsettled. She'd damaged him in more ways than one, with promises of more conflicts to come. Rodrian had led a sheltered life, more or less, while Marek was around. He'd never borne this kind of agony.
He needed time. He had a bit of true soul-searching to do, and I couldn't interfere with it. In a way, he needed to feel bad about what he'd done so that he wouldn't repeat the mistake. I never struggled with anything the way I struggled to give him the space he needed. I knew it was for the best but my heart screamed at me for allowing him to continue in his despair.
