Blood Bonds

by Yasmine Galenorn

  Delilah snorted, but she gave me a look that told me she understood.

  I glanced around the wooded lot. “That way,” I said, pointing to a barely discernible trail. I had been here far more often than the others, but it was still tricky. If Grandmother Coyote didn’t want to be found, she set a good camouflage. I set off, firmly treading through the knee-high grass that was dying back for the season. The trees were laden with leaves, but they had changed color, and all it would take was one good, strong wind to catch them up and send them spiraling to the ground.

  Delilah followed me as we pushed on through the thicket, ducking to miss the massive spider webs that the orb weavers strung from tree to tree. These woods were a haven for the striped spiders. In fact, the entire Pacific Northwest was rife with them during the summer and autumn. They came out to play in the vegetable gardens, feasting on the bugs, and then in autumn, when the mist was rising off the ground, they abounded, weaving their webs and fattening up, then laying their egg sacs in hidden crevices so that next year, a new generation would be born. I found them fascinating, though I didn’t like them on me. With their jointed legs, they reminded me of aliens, a hive mind of ruthless predators. And yet, the orb weavers kept to their webs, seldom intruding within the homes and houses around them. Oh, sometimes one would have eyes bigger than its stomach, stringing a web across the sidewalk, but most often, if we left them alone, they left us alone.

  A rustling to my right gave me pause. I stopped, turning to scan the bushes. The occasional bloatworgle stumbled through the woods around here. They were dangerous, breathing fire. But none of the minor demons appeared—merely a red fox who scampered across the path to the other side and vanished beneath a huckleberry bush. I silently wished him well, hoping he would find plenty of fat mice to fill his belly. I didn’t dare say that aloud, though, given Delilah had made friends with some of the mice around the area, and as strange as it seemed, she watched over them. When we had first come here, a mouse helped her out when she was in her tabby form. She was still helping out the mouse’s family to return the favor, even though Misha, the original mouse, had long departed for the Summer Lands.

  We broke through the thicket into a clearing. Across the grove was a giant oak, the trunk huge compared to the towering fir trees surrounding it. I motioned for Delilah to follow me over to a fallen nurse log. The decaying trunk was covered with mildew and mushrooms, with moss and ferns growing out of the decaying wood. I sat down on the end, and Delilah joined me.

  I held out my hands. Closing my eyes, I whispered, “Grandmother Coyote, we’re here. Come out, come out, wherever you are. We need to talk to you.”

  There was silence all around, with only the rustle of leaves in the wind to keep us company.

  One beat. Two. Three beats. And then, another.

  Slowly, from behind the massive oak, a cloaked figure stepped into a glimmer of moonlight that broke through the clouds. The moonglow hit Grandmother Coyote square on, illuminating her. Luminous and brilliant in her age and wisdom, she held up one hand, crooked a finger, and motioned for us to follow.

  I stood, silently crossing the lea, Delilah by my side. As the moonlight from the waning crescent struck us, it splashed a cold, ethereal glow across our skin. Delilah shivered, but for me, it was like nectar, and I let it wash over me, the essence of my Lady who watched from above.

  Still silent, we followed her to the trunk of the oak, which was wide enough to drive the car through and then some. But it was bigger inside than it appeared. A light emanated from the trunk, forming a doorway. I took a deep breath and stepped inside, into the lair of Grandmother Coyote.

  ONCE WITHIN THE trunk, we found ourselves on a path, compacted dirt and pebbles. The path led down a corridor, surrounded on either side by clouds of mist. I wasn’t sure what lay beyond the mist, and I didn’t want to find out.

  We walked for a while—I don’t really know how long because time seemed suspended within the realm of Grandmother Coyote—and finally came out into a cave. There was a table in the center of the cave, and three chairs surrounding the round slab of oak. Grandmother Coyote motioned for me to sit opposite of her, and Delilah sat to my left.

  “So we’re back to the beginning, are we?” Grandmother Coyote leaned back in her chair. What she truly thought of us, I had no clue. She was impossible to read, her face impervious, a topographical map of a timeless life. Within the nooks and crannies of her wrinkles existed the whole of time, and her eyes were those of an endless observer.

  I nodded. “It felt fitting to come to you for advice. I assume you know why we’re here?”

  Grandmother Coyote continued to stare at me. “You have the spirit seals. You know Shadow Wing’s secret. And now…I cannot volunteer information. You must ask.” Her gaze never left my face.

  I wondered if there was anything she didn’t know. As if she were reading my thoughts, a toothy grin spread across her face. When Grandmother Coyote smiled it was more disconcerting than if she frowned. Her teeth were like steel, sharp, and able to gnash through bone.

  I took a deep breath and glanced at Delilah for moral support.

  “Go ahead,” Kitten whispered.

  Turning back to Grandmother Coyote, I said, “I assume there’s a price for your help?”

  “Oh, my girl, there’s a price for everything in this world. And the price for my help this time is steep. You hold the reins of fate in your hand, Camille. Are you all willing to pay my price for my help?”

  I thought about everything that had happened in my life, both the good and the bad. I had faced loss when Mother had died. I had faced the darkness of my own mind when Hyto had captured me. But joy and love had rewarded me so many times over. I was my father’s daughter, and even though he was dead, I would not make him ashamed.

  I steeled myself and said, “I will pay the price.”

  Delilah cleared her throat. “Camille won’t pay the price alone. I promise to help her. And Menolly would as well, if she were here. All three of us will see this through.” Her voice was steady. Kitten had grown up over the years, her timidity gone, and in its place a strong warrior had emerged. The Death Maiden had won out over the scaredy-cat.

  “The deal is set, then.” Grandmother Coyote slowly reached beneath the tablecloth and brought out a small velvet bag. She handed it to me.

  “Draw three bones, as you did the first time you came to me. Then place them on the table in front of you.”

  I silently reached in the bag. The bones were finger bones, from every race of creature. I had brought one of them to Grandmother Coyote, the first price she had charged me. Bad Ass Luke, as we had called him, had been the first demon we fought. And he had been the first sign Shadow Wing was on the rise.

  I let my fingers play over the bones. Three of them sparked against my skin, and I removed them and placed them on the table. One was long and slender, one short and stubby, and the third looked to be a finger bone from a creature that I didn’t recognize.

  Grandmother Coyote stared at the bones.

  I closed my eyes, leaning back. I could feel shadows wandering through the room. Behind us, around us, standing over our shoulders, the shades of the past were alive and thriving in Grandmother Coyote’s lair. I thought about asking about them, but I didn’t want to interrupt. The silence hung heavy. I knew that Delilah’s eyes had grown wide, but she said nothing, either.

  After a time, Grandmother Coyote expelled a lungful of air. For some reason, that surprised me. I wasn’t sure that she even had to breathe, considering she was one of the Immortals. But her sigh filled the room, swirling around us with a magic of its own. I tensed, almost afraid to break the mood, as if it would shatter the magic into shards, like a mirror breaking.

  “Delilah, I see the shadow of a girl. She dances around you in fire and ash, in bone and falling leaves. She’s a flickering flame, hard to grasp, harder still to hold onto. She will grow to be a queen, weaving her webs throughout the lands during the autumn days. I te
ll you this: you must not fear who she is to become. You must claim your own nature, lest she spin you around in circles. You are her guide, but you cannot possess her. You can merely direct her.”

  Delilah blinked, letting out a little gasp. “Is she the only child I will have?”

  “Remember this: even though you will give birth to her, this autumn flame is no youth. From the very beginning she will be older than time. She will be her father’s daughter. However, though she will stay with you but a fleeting moment—at least what will seem like it—you will open your home to others who need mothering. One does not have to give birth to be a parent. Those who will grow up remembering you as their mother will do so out of love, not blood.”

  Swallowing hard, Delilah murmured a “Thank you,” and pressed her lips together. I couldn’t tell if she was upset, or relieved.

  Grandmother Coyote looked at the second bone. “I see a split path before Menolly. You will tell her that a fork in the road is coming, and her joy and happiness depends on which route she takes. Obligations come and go, and while it is necessary to keep one’s word, there are ways she can do so without shuttering herself away in a tower like Rapunzel. She is not to think in terms of either/or. There are ways to make everyone happy in her life. The only restrictions will be those she puts upon herself.”

  Without missing a beat she turned to me. “And so, while your sisters’ fortunes have little to do with the matter at hand, that is what the web weaves for them. For you, I see this: Surround the problem with the solution. Circles are infinitely strong, their shape an infinite loop. A circle of energy can surround and shatter an adversary. But you must not break the chain. There must be trust. Hands must hold tight. And no matter what happens, do not give into the fear. The chain is only as strong as its weakest link, so reinforce that link and you can win.”

  “Who is my weakest link?” I asked. “I assume it’s one of the Keraastar Knights?”

  “Perhaps,” Grandmother Coyote said.

  I closed my eyes, then realized what she was saying. “I’m the weakest link. I’m the one with the most to lose, therefore I am the weak link. How do I fix this? How do I steel myself so that my fears over what might be don’t interfere and break the spell?”

  Grandmother Coyote shrugged. “How do you fix anything? How do you strengthen a girder or beam? You reinforce it. Remember, the core is the strongest part. Strengthen the core, and the shell will follow.” She leaned back. “Focus that combined energy on Shadow Wing’s gems and you can shatter them as surely as a word can shatter silence. Not every battle is fought on a physical level. Sometimes magic is the only strength you have. Sometimes it’s the only hope.”

  And with that, she fell silent.

  Chapter 4

  Menolly

  I STARED AT the phone. I had just opened Camille’s email. I slowly placed my pen on the desk, and pushed away the thank-you note I had been writing to the Ladies of the Night Society—a vampire club for gentrified members. They had held a meeting in my honor a week ago, and it was expected that I express my gratitude for their kindness. If it had been up to me, I would have sent them an email thanking them, but among the upper-crust vamps, decorum dictated a decidedly old-school approach to things such as thank-you notes and invitations. Probably because a lot of them were old school to begin with.

  Camille had been to see Grandmother Coyote and come away with—as usual—cryptic answers. But the message for me had been clear enough. The Hags of Fate thought I could keep my obligations and be content and happy. I no longer questioned how the Immortals knew what they knew—there was no use pondering some of the universe’s mysteries. What I did know was that when the Immortals gave advice, it was best to follow it.

  A knock on the door stirred me out of my thoughts.

  “Menolly?” Erin Mathews peeked into my office. She was my daughter—the only person I had ever turned into a vampire.

  I looked up from my desk and, welcoming the interruption, motioned for her to come in.

  Erin was looking good. Her vampire glamour had fully taken hold and gone was the dowdy, middle-aged look she had sported as a human. She was my only child, so to speak. I had sired her when her life was on the line, and she had made the choice to be turned rather than to die.

  “Erin, hey, what’s up? Gearing up for the tour?”

  Erin had been offered the chance to go on tour with Wade Stevens, the founder of Vampires Anonymous, to create chapters of the support group on a nationwide basis. It had been hard for me to say yes, given my worries over the vampire hate groups out there, but I had to cut the cord sometime. Erin needed to grow into what she was meant to become. And this movement could put both Wade and Erin in the spotlight. I had no doubt they were on their way to becoming ambassadors between the living and the undead.

  She shrugged. “We’re making progress. There’s a lot to iron out.” She paused, then added, “I wanted to thank you again for letting me go. You could have said no. You could have ordered me to stay in the security department.”

  I considered my response. Erin was still in the starry-eyed phase of being sired and she looked up to me.

  “I almost didn’t agree because I was worried about you. But my sisters reminded me that there’s a lot of work to be done, and that even if you were to stay here, I can’t protect you all the time. I trust you, Erin, and I believe that you’ll do great things. But if you need me, I’m just a phone call away.” I gazed at her for a moment, then suppressed a smile as she knelt before me.

  “It’s been a long road, these past four years,” she said. “One moment I was owner of the Scarlet Harlot and president of the Faerie Watchers Club, and the next…I was dying. And you saved me.” She looked up, a grateful look on her face. “I’ll always be grateful to you for that, regardless of what happens. But you’re right, you can’t protect me every moment, and I’m hoping that I can make a difference in the world.”

  Her words echoed in my head.

  “Sit down for a moment.” I motioned for her to take a seat and she rose, crossing to the chair next to my desk as I returned to my own chair. I rested my elbows on the polished walnut.

  “There’s something I’ve never told you. But now, I think you should know. Years ago, when I was turned, I swore to myself that I would never turn another soul into a vampire. After what Dredge did to me, I couldn’t imagine putting someone else through it.” I paused, debating on whether to continue. Erin knew that I had been tortured, but I’d never given her the specifics.

  She nodded. “I know you weren’t given a choice. You weren’t dying, like I was, when he caught you.”

  “No, I wasn’t. And he spent the entire night focused on causing me as much pain as he could without outright killing me. I’ll never get rid of the physical scars, though I’ve healed a lot of the emotional pain. But there are some acts…some wounds you never forget. No matter how much you heal, no matter how much you let go, there are some journeys from which you never fully return. So even though you were dying, it was incredibly hard for me to bring myself to turn you. And I probably wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been for Grandmother Coyote.”

  Erin blinked. “Grandmother Coyote?”

  “Yes. The first time I met her, Grandmother Coyote gave me some cryptic advice. She also scared the shit out of me, but that’s just the way she is. But at a meeting of the Supe Community Council, Grandmother Coyote came up to me and she told me that I was going to have to do something I had vowed never to do. That when the time came, I needed to go through with it, as much as I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what she was talking about at that point, but then you were kidnapped by Dredge’s freakshow followers, and he put me in a spot where the only way to save you was to turn you.”

  Erin stared at me. “I never knew why they kidnapped me, not really. You mean, he did it to torture you?”

  “Yeah, he did it to force me into what, at the time, seemed like a no-win situation. He had lost control of me after turning me, so he
was looking to make my life as much of a hell as possible.”

  She ducked her head, staring at her feet. “I’m sorry I was a party to that.”

  “It’s not your fault. You did nothing. Dredge was a sadist and he knew you were a friend, so he used you to hurt me. But…Grandmother Coyote had foretold that I needed to follow through. She said that a long thread of destiny hinged on my action—or inaction. That destiny is you, Erin. And I’m pretty sure that what you and Wade are about to do is going to change the world for vampires and humans alike. I see you both ushering in a new age of understanding between the living and the undead.”

  She hesitated for a moment. “I hope you don’t regret turning me. I wanted to live, and I’ll do my best to make you proud. To make you feel that it was a good thing you turned me. I’ll keep control of my inner predator, and I’ll follow in your footsteps. I want to make the world a better place.”

  I smiled softly. “You already have done that, Erin. I don’t regret turning you. I only regret that it was necessary. But you’re helping pave the way for others.”

  “I’m doing my best,” she said. She added, “We head out on the road in two days. Do you have any advice for me before I leave?”

  “Treat yourself with respect, treat others with that same respect. Corral your inner predator. Turn to Wade if you need help. He’s got a sensible head on his shoulders, regardless of his mother. Do yourself proud, Erin. Go out there and change the world.” I thought about hugging her, but I wasn’t a huggy person and neither was she.

  Erin stood. She gave me a low bow. “Permission to leave, Your Highness.”