by Loni Lynne
"It's…it's my daughter, Marilyn. I haven't been able to contact her for a few days, since she went to Romania. I'm afraid something has happened to her. I've tried every embassy, consulate and diplomatic connection I have and either no one can help me, or they haven't even tried. I'm calling you as my last hope."
"I want you to stay strong, Diane. I'm sure she is fine," his voice soothed. "In the meantime, I need you to send me all of her most recent information, copy of passport, credit cards, and most recent photo. You've got to trust me. I'll find her. I'll keep you posted on a regular basis."
"Please, if there is anything I can do…" Diane sobbed. Talking about her daughter got to her.
"I want you to relax and let me take care of you. We'll find her, Diane…I promise to you with all my heart, she'll be safe."
Chapter Four
"Why don't I just send her back home to the states?"
"You mustn't. That is the first place Vamier would look. Besides, Trevor is his lackey. Do you want that scum to get his hands on her?"
"Hell no."
Marilyn woke up to a heated discussion on the other side of the door. She'd had enough of this. Why wouldn't they just let her be? All she wanted to do was get to Professor Vamier and begin her studies. She had no contact with her mother or anyway to contact the professor with her phone gone. That was why she was here. She wasn't going home or anywhere until she had answers.
Tossing back the covers, she realized she was naked. Panic set in, and she snarled with frustration.
"Where are my clothes?" she called.
The door opened to reveal Nonni and Draylon standing there. Nonni stepped inside.
"Draylon, wait out in the other room…"
He didn't budge, just stared at her as if he'd never seen a woman in bed. Marilyn could only imagine what she looked like right now. When was the last time she'd showered or brushed her hair? Images of her as a wild, hot mess in front of strangers raised an unusual level of anger in her. To have them stare at her in such a state set off a defensive, adrenaline rush within her that had her wanting to attack.
"Draylon…now!" Nonni commanded.
Marilyn leapt out of the bed with a wild burst of energy and raced towards Draylon to attack. Before she could get to him though, Nonni slammed the door and backed away from her.
I have your things, zmeoaică. You have nothing to fear.
The woman's mouth never moved, but Marilyn heard her speak the words.
My name is Marilyn.
Zmeoaică is who you truly are. You've come home. After so long, you have returned. It's just as Zamolxis ordained.
Nonni made no sense to her. Nothing made sense to her. She ached, worse than when she'd gone to see Doc Johnston. Muscles tightened in her arms and legs, muscles she never knew existed. They'd developed over night. She could see their definition. Marilyn's face felt swollen and dry, her head hurt and her eyes burned. Without any mirrors in the room, she couldn't see what was happening to her or how she looked. She'd moved too fast, the room spun and nausea threatened her stomach. She sat back down on the edge of the bed, trying to get her body and thoughts together.
"I want my things, Nonni…please."
"Do you promise not to leave?"
"If it's the only way to get my things back…I won't leave, yet." She looked up from beneath her wild mass of knotted hair.
Nonni tried not to crack a smile but the toothless grin came out anyway. "I get your things. We talk. No men—I send them away."
Mentally Marilyn felt better when Nonni brought in her clothes, laundered and fresh. The woman had her sit in the rustic, straight back chair near the washbasin as she applied a soothing balm to her arms and legs to help with the aches. After she dressed in jeans and a sweater, Nonni brushed out her hair, applying a sweet, berry scented serum to smooth out the knots. Marilyn let her run the boar-bristled brush through the tangled mass. She still felt naked though. Her hand instantly went to her throat. Her medallion was missing.
"It is safe. I tucked it away in your suitcase. It is most impressive. Where did you get such a thing?"
"It was a gift from a friend of my father's for my twenty-first birthday," she whispered.
"A gift, from your father's friend? Why did your father not give it to you?"
"I never met my father. He went missing before I was born."
"How sad for you. What did your father do?" Nonni asked as she plaited her hair into a thick braid.
"He was a Romanian archeologist working for the Smithsonian. He was well known and went on various digs around the world, but he always loved the history and artifacts from here." Marilyn turned to view Nonni. "I read some of his papers and became as fascinated by the history as he'd been—much to my mother's dismay."
"And your father? Who was this man?"
"Richard Reddlin."
Nonni stopped braiding momentarily as she appeared to ponder the thought of her father then returned to braiding her hair. Nothing in her features showed Nonni had any recollection of the name.
Marilyn tried another tactic. "You said you wanted to talk…without the men. Did you send them away?"
The old woman nodded. "We talk. You and me. I fix tea…come."
As warm and inviting as the large cottage appeared, Marilyn shivered with a chill of anxiety. Something wasn't right with any of this, but out of all the issues she'd encountered, which one bothered her the most? All of them.
"Sit. Sit. I make tea with honey."
Nonni motioned for her to sit at the table. She studied the old wooden beams that supported the house and rafters. Stone, wood and brick with white plaster made up the interior. The windows were arched with red brick and the plastered walls were thick enough to keep out all sorts of elements. There were no vents for central air, no old radiators for heating, only fireplaces and wood burning stoves to take out the chill.
She knew asking for internet connection to contact her mother via social media or email was useless. If the old woman didn't have electricity, she sure as hell didn't have wireless connection.
"I don't believe in the work of aghiută." She spat on the floor. "The devil, he make man lazy and tame."
Nonni could read her thoughts?
"Yes. Did Draylon not tell you of my gifts? I am strega…a witch."
"I never believed in it—other than following ancient teachings. It was always referred to as a derogatory term."
Nonni looked confused for a moment as the words seemed unfamiliar. "Ah! A bad name." She nodded. "I've been called all things. No one bothers me. I keep to myself."
Placing the pot of tea on the table, she sat in the chair on the end, nearest the kitchen hearth. Marilyn took the initiative to pour the steaming brew into their delicate cups. She smiled. The china appeared out of place in such a rustic setting. But the aroma of sweet rooibos and honey made all of Marilyn's cares vanish.
"Drink. You like." Nonni motioned for her to drink.
They sipped in silence for a few moments, letting the flowery taste of the tea seep into their blood stream and warm them internally. Hints of orange and cinnamon blended with the honey. For the time being, Marilyn didn't have a care. The aches in her muscles dispersed and the warmth of the tea, the aroma of the burning firewood, it all settled into her soul, warming it from the inside. Still, the unknown fear lingered of what was outside that heavy door.
"There is no need to fear. Draylon will protect you with his life."
Accepting the fact Nonni would read her thoughts, the difficult part would be controlling them. "Why? I don't even know him. And since we've been together he's tried to abduct me, we've been chased by vampires and threatened to be made into one. I think I was safer before we met."
"He was sent to protect you at all cost."
"I don't need a bodyguard…or at least I didn't think I needed one. I came to Romania for research. Mr. Vamier offered me the opportunity to be his personal assistant th
is semester."
Nonni shook her head. "He is not to be trusted. He is bad. He will not lead you to the truth. He is only after what you have."
Marilyn snorted. Like Daniel? Her mother had set her up with a congressman's son. He was always polite around her mother, well-mannered, loving, sweet and attentive. She should have listened to Tina when her friend told her there was something about him she didn't like.
Their relationship was hot and cold to begin. He'd managed to convince her to transfer from Hood College down to Towson to be near him. She did so just to get out from under her mother's thumb. But she'd never seen him in his natural habitat before arriving on campus. He liked to party, skipped classes and expected her to bail him out when he was either too drunk or needed a paper done overnight.
He only showed affection around their friends and family—until their last night together. She never did tell her mother the truth. Marilyn shivered as a chill shot down her spine and disgust curled her lip.
She tried to focus on Nonni and the conversation.
"…he not good for you." Nonni spat at the floor. "You need better. Draylon is a good man. He protect you."
"Why?" Marilyn looked up at Nonni whose small beady eyes glowed with knowledge.
"Because it is meant to be."
"Really? I don't think so. I'm not here for a man, Nonni. I'm here to find myself."
Nonni sat back and sighed, nodding in understanding. "There was a woman I knew once, she wanted same thing. She left her home far, far away and came to a strange land to see what it might be like away from home. She fell in love while finding her way—only it wasn't the right way—she'd chosen the wrong way. Not only did it affect her life but those of a whole race of people…and Zmei."
"Z-what?"
Nonni cackled. "Zmei. Ah…you have not heard, and yet you have the very emblem of their kind."
Marilyn thought about her medallion. "The wolf or the serpent?"
The old woman's eyes rounded. "Oh no. So much more than a bălaur or hound! They shift-shapes…"
"They're 'shape-shifters'?" Marilyn corrected in awe.
"Yes…yes. Bălaur is their true shape but not always so. They fly and are much powerful, sometimes turning into fire to slip into a young woman's room, turning musat, handsome…oh so handsome, as a man and to seduce her to become his mate."
"They are evil then."
"Eh," Nonni struggled for the right term, "misunderstood."
"So you are telling me these Zmei exist?"
"Once a long time ago. Now, all gone…except one."
Marilyn sat forward, the steam from her cup of tea warming her face. This was like some of the fantastical stories she'd read in her father's papers. Fascinated, she wanted more.
"He lives still. But he is so very old. His home is all but forgotten by time, but it still is a sacred place in the high mountains of the Suhard Massif."
"What happened to them? Why is there only one left?"
Nonni sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. When she opened them there was a far-away look about her.
Anxious to hear more, Marilyn pushed her cup to the side so she wouldn't spill it in her excitement. She loved stories like this. History and folklore went hand in hand. If she had more information about the tales then she'd have a better understanding of the mystical people her father wrote about in his papers.
"A long time ago, back before the Romans came, the Dacian were a warrior race of people. We battled against all foe who dared to cross our rivers. The Danube was a boundary to many tribes from other countries. Our forests, so dark and full of wild and mystical beings, no one dared to enter.
"Every battle we fought was beside our brethren Zmei—the creatures the gods had gifted to our people for protection. In exchange for the Zmei help they requested one young maiden every decade for their token bride. The women were of special birth, prepared and blessed to take on the role when the time came. An honor, a true calling, something the Dacian celebrated."
Nonni got up from her chair. Her head bowed and weary, she shuffled slowly into the kitchen. Pouring golden meal into a large, black pot hanging from an iron rod in the fireplace she stirred in a pitcher of cream.
Don't stop.
"You are hungry. You need to eat. I make mămăligă."
Marilyn wasn't hungry, not for food. She wanted more details. She hated movie sequels because she didn't like to wait to find out the next chapter in the story. And she had no idea what mămăligă was. But Nonni wasn't one to be rushed.
She drank her tea and poured herself another cup. Nonni had only taken a few sips, so she left hers alone. The howling of wind rattled the windowpanes in the kitchen and whistled through the cracks around the door.
"Ah…ală works his magic, too. He's the beast who brings the viscol—winterstorms." She stirred the bubbling pot. "Do you hear his cries? Not to worry, he won't get in."
"But Draylon and the other men are out there. Aren't you worried about them?"
Nonni waved her hand. "They are fine. They go to their watering holes to drink and raise a fuss. They are good boys, though."
Worried, Marilyn didn't want to put up with more guys who partied and drank. She had a feeling it was a male norm though. She'd have to deal with it again, sooner or later.
She watched as Nonni ladled out thick gruel into their bowls and placed sliced bread onto a board. Getting up, she went to help the tiny woman bring the simple fare to the table. Sniffing the bowls, she realized it was corn meal mush. Her nanny, Francis, used to make it.
A jar of honey and maple syrup was placed before her, along with whipped honey butter. Her stomach growled.
"See, you are hungry! Two days sick in bed with nothing but broth—you must eat."
"I've been here two days?"
"Much fever and tired."
Two days? She'd lost so much time and what did her mother think? She must be going out of her mind! The one person who didn't want her to leave was now without a clue where her daughter was. That made two of them. She didn't know where she was. She figured she was still in Romania though.
Delving into her sweetened cereal, she cleaned the bowl in little time. Nonni filled it again, her toothless smile happy. Marilyn slathered a thick slice of crusty bread with butter and honey while she waited for Nonni's return to the table.
"So tell me more about the Zmei."
"Oh yes! Where was I?"
"Women were trained to be wives of the Zmei…"
Nodding, Nonni picked up the story. "As I said, very honorable to be chosen as a Zmei mate. Until the young lady who'd left home had been chosen and rebelled. She'd fallen in love with another who was of good birth—but not good. He was false."
"So they married instead?"
"No. She was forced to marry the Zmeu. He was kind and treated her well as all Zmei did. She was the honored one. She loved him and honored her Zmei mate, but she always wondered about her lost love. He promised he'd come for her."
"But he didn't? Did he?"
"Oh yes, he came for her—along with hundreds of men he'd gathered. But it wasn't for her alone…it was for power and glory. His troops rushed into the Zmei fortress and slaughtered every one of them, taking the woman with him as his own. Devastated at seeing such a massacre—on her behalf—she cried for days. When the Dacian tribes found out about the Zmei, they shouted to the gods to curse the evil ones. The gods heard and instead of cursing just the couple—they were so angry that their gift of the precious Zmei had been destroyed, they cursed all the clans."
"Oh no."
"It was terrible. They were no longer to be warriors but hunters, hunters of the night. The Dacian baier of the Zmei and the Wolf was broken—the talisman separated forever by their betrayal. The Dacians would become wolves and live off of the land as beasts of the night. The goddess of fertility—she turned the Dacian—sterp, barren,
infertile.
The men who killed the Zmei were to become another entity all together. They were cursed by the sun god, Derzelas, and would die if they were to try to live in his light. The goddess of the hunt cursed them with never finding nourishment in the flesh of beast—only the blood of man. And the goddess of fertility she cursed them severely—they could only create more of their kind by exchange of blood for blood…at the victim's request."
"Wait, you said that there was one Zmeu left though. Where did he go?" Marilyn sat on the edge of the bench, waiting to hear more. If what Nonni told her was real then could the medallion hold some truth? Even folklore and legend held kernels of fact in them.
"So eager you are." Nonni cleared the used dishes. Marilyn went to help her, afraid she'd do something else and not tell her the rest, but the old woman continued, "There is one. Only because of a kind young prophet who went to pray over the desecrated Zmei. He found one, still alive, barely breathing. He'd turned into a human to protect the mate of the Zmei leader, but in doing so, received a nearly fatal wound. The prophet took him to his teacher, the god known as Zamolxis, and worked to heal the last of the Zmei.
The gods looked on the young prophet favorably for his kindness. They blessed him with the ability to one day mate and produce an offspring, when the time was right."
"So this Zmeu is immortal? Was he cursed?"
The wizened woman smiled. "Zmei are immortal to begin with. The Zmeu curses himself. He desires to find a mate who will accept him for what he is."
She felt sorry for the creature. Thousands of years and no real companionship. He was stuck up in a mountain like some mythical Sasquatch, biding his time.
Marilyn couldn't help but think on the whole story. So much folklore and mysticism. Did she believe any of it? She carefully dried the dishes as Nonni washed. The old woman seemed to believe. She was strega. Witches were those who believed in the past, using it to guide them. As she hung up the dishtowel, the door burst open on a gust of wind and men.
"Nonni, get Marilyn packed up. We need to leave, now."
"What's going on, Draylon?" Marilyn went to his side. The other two men were busy packing up what they could find for comfort and security. She remembered them naked the other night. But now they all looked as they were nearly torn to shreds.
