Grief For Heart: The Vincent Du Maurier Series, Book 4

by K. P. Ambroziak

  “Do you feel different?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember any of it?”

  “All of it,” Hannah mumbled.

  “Me too.”

  “I felt you there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Inside of me, when he …” Her voice evaporated on the air, but Saba filled in the rest. When he stole the life from me, he brought me next to you. Blood to blood.

  “Now we are different,” Hannah said.

  “We will always be kin.”

  “No longer kinblood, though.”

  Saba pushed herself up, and Hannah winced, her arm still tender from the transfusion.

  “You will always be my favorite,” Saba said.

  “May I confess something?”

  Saba nodded.

  “I used to think I’d be yours,” she said. “I mean once you became one of them, I thought I’d be the one to feed you. I thought you’d like me best.”

  Saba’s eyes tightened, the tears welling up, her mouth drawn downward. Her sister’s confession spoke of the deepest love, a testimony to their bond. “I’ll always like you best.”

  She embraced her sister, holding her as carefully as she could. She wanted to share her own secrets, tell Hannah everything she knew, all that she’d learned since being taken by the vampire, but she lost her courage.

  With their embrace broken, Hannah gripped her sister’s forearm and said, “Finn isn’t for you.”

  Saba blushed and looked away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I’ve seen it. He’s not what he seems.”

  “Finn sacrificed everything for me. He saved me.”

  Hannah frowned, and shook her sister’s arm. “I don’t say this lightly. You must take care. He will turn on you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Peter is the only one for you. You know this deep down inside, you know it’s true.”

  Saba swallowed. She would’ve agreed openly had Peter not blown her off again when he walked her back home after going to see Hannah. They’d stood at the entrance to our cottage, the silence between them mounting.

  “You must go to him,” Peter finally said, referring to Finn who was still inside recovering.

  Saba held her tongue, but pierced the vampire’s heart with her look.

  “Ah, little lamb. It’s over for us.”

  At that short phrase, Saba turned on her heel and rushed into the cottage, leaving Peter on the doorstep. The regret still haunted her as she sat with Hannah.

  “Finn and I are leaving for a time,” Saba said.

  “I know. That’s why I’m telling you.”

  “I don’t know when I’ll be back, or if—”

  “You’ll be back, my sister.” Hannah spoke like a prophet now, no longer hiding her gift to know things. Despite my objection, I couldn’t deny the Hematope blood made her thrive, enhancing all of her strengths.

  “Will you watch over Dag and Netta for me?” Saba asked, touching her sister’s long fingers with her own.

  Hannah crinkled her nose, the corners of her mouth turning up. “You won’t be away from father for long.”

  “He can’t follow me. You must insist he stay here. He’s too sick—”

  Hannah put a hand over her sister’s, and said, “Our father has a destiny, too. You can’t keep him from it. Nothing can.”

  Saba had always intuited her sister’s gift, but now she experienced it full blown. “Tell me, will I find the one I’m looking for?”

  Hannah smiled wide, the second real smile since waking. The first had been given to Andor, the first person she saw when she woke. “I believe you’ve already found him,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think you know. You feel him, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” Saba shook her head from side to side, denying the truth she knew deep inside of her.

  “He’s a part of you,” Hannah said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I think you do. You just don’t want to see it.”

  Saba thought of the goddess. Could the god hunting her be the one she sought? The thought was frightful, but truthful, too. She would see Finn’s vampire again, she knew it then and braced herself for it.

  “Remember what I said about Finn,” Hannah said. “I don’t say it in vain.”

  Saba shrugged. “I’ll be careful.”

  She leaned in and hugged her sister, the two of them holding on to each other for their last forever. Their embrace was broken with a rap on the door, the shriek of children following, as the twins pushed their way in and rushed toward their mother.

  Saba made room for them, watching for a moment before slipping out with a glance backward at her sister surrounded by her unruly daughters. Born into it, she thought, as she shut the door behind her.

  * * *

  The sloop was easy for the two of them to man. Veor had given Saba lessons long ago, but gave her a refresher course, along with the young hunter, showing him a few knots and how to adjust the mainsheet to keep the sail full. He helped them prep the boat, telling them how to navigate using the sky. He’d been to Finn’s land, and assured Saba they’d arrive shortly after they set out.

  “You’ll see at least two sunrises before you arrive,” Veor said. “But keep the compass at your side. It’s the only marker you have.”

  “Are you sure we can’t take you,” Lucia said. “My mother will not be pleased to know we let you go alone.”

  “She’ll understand,” Saba said, passing her longbow off to Finn. “Did you bring what I asked?”

  Lucia pulled the journals from her robe. The pages of the leather-bound books were beginning to fray, and she held them like the precious artifacts they were. She wouldn’t see her father’s legacy dissolve to dust.

  “Dagur may not be happy I’ve taken these, but they belong to you as much as anyone,” she said, touching the book cover as if to absorb its energy.

  Saba assured her she’d guard them with her life. They held their destiny, and their history wrapped together. “It’s time I meet your father,” she said to Lucia.

  “He’s the father of us all.” The vampire leaned in and kissed the mighty warrior, the girl who seemed to belong to Evelina more than she.

  Finn watched the two silently. He followed Veor’s directions but barely spoke in return. He’d said little since waking, his need for his father burned in his mind, scorching his every cell. He’d dreamed of him, seen his father as clear as day, assuring him he had to return to his land. Saba’s reaction surprised him when he told her. Leaving was easy with her insisting to take him. His shame ran deep still, though he wanted to be with Saba despite it. The girl put him at ease more than any other.

  Before the two of them pushed out to sea, Saba yelled to Lucia, watching from the shore. “Please don’t let Dag come after me,” she shouted.

  The vampire smiled and waved, uncertain how she could honor such a request. She and Veor waited for the sloop to shrink on the horizon before jetting back to the colony and up to my studio, where she confessed the truth, despite the risk of facing her mother’s disapproval.

  “She made me wait to tell you,” Lucia said. “She insisted on a head start.”

  Lucia lied, I knew it. Saba had no desire to see me follow her, and yet she expected I would.

  “There’s nothing I won’t do for Saba,” Lucia said, her eyes on her mother. “You know it.” Vincent’s daughter stood tall, prepared for her mother’s challenge.

  Evelina did as much as narrow her eyes, but then smiled at Lucia. “You’ve done well. Both of you.”

  Lucia’s face lit up, as she rested her head on Veor’s shoulder. “Understood,” she whispered.

  The two of them took their leave then, and it wasn’t until later I learned Evelina had used her mind speak to ask her daughter to prepare a vessel for our crossing.

  “The colony casts their vote tonight,” Peter said to me.


  “How can this be?” I asked, bewildered at the whole of it.

  Freyit had left me with Hannah, promising to return with my father, but when Evelina and Peter called me to the tower, I went willingly.

  “We offered to deal with Huitzilli in our own way,” Evelina said. “But they’ve insisted on this instead.”

  I had a difficult time picturing my father’s face when he said the New Men would stand guard over their own territory, and against my kin.

  “He’s always been their leader,” Peter said. “Well before your time. You must understand they’ve been through more than you know.”

  “How are they not loyal to his kind, to the one who made them?”

  “Laszlo Arros made them,” Evelina said, a chill in her voice. “Not Vincent.”

  “Ah, no matter,” Peter said. “We’ve failed them, the pact is broken, and they’ve come to learn something that changes everything.”

  “How could he not know this would happen?” I questioned myself more than Evelina, but she spoke for Vincent.

  “Perhaps this too is a part of the plan, boy.” She didn’t temper her rage.

  “How can that be?”

  “We failed Hannah,” Peter said. “That’s all there is now.”

  “We must face the consequences,” Evelina said.

  “Which means?”

  “You have a choice to make, my yiós.”

  I looked at her, the meekness in me showing.

  “Not about the thing you’ve been contemplating for some time,” she said. “But the other decision that now hangs in the balance.”

  My eyes narrowed. “I don’t follow, mormor.”

  Peter crossed the studio, and gazed up at my shelves. I watched him absentmindedly, not seeing what he saw.

  “You must decide,” Evelina said, “who to save.”

  “He’s gone,” Peter said. “Vincent—they’re gone.” He pointed to the empty shelf where I kept the journals.

  “Did Saba take them?” I asked, moving toward him.

  Peter’s eyes were closed, his mind already seeking out Saba. He’d broken through the wall of ice since the mountaintop, and relinquished his fight to deny himself access to her. Evelina’s request came shortly after they rescued her, that he renew his watch despite his pain at seeing Finn on her mind.

  “Saba has them,” he said. “She was bound to know him eventually.”

  “What is it she’s looking for?”

  “She’s spurred on by another.”

  “So this is Diomedea’s doing,” I said.

  “Vincent’s, too,” Evelina said, her eyes wide. “Oh my,” she mumbled. Her face hardened in the wake of her realization.

  “What?”

  “Finn,” she muttered. “It’s Finn.”

  Peter’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he said.

  “What about Finn?” I asked.

  “Ah, but it can’t be.”

  “Why not?” She said, holding him in her gaze, an exchange happening between them, one from which I was excluded.

  “What?” I asked. “What about Finn?”

  Evelina turned to me and said, “The choice is made.”

  “What choice?”

  “You’re coming with us,” Peter said. “You must.”

  “Tell your father it’s decided.”

  “What’s decided?” My voice pitched, and I sounded like a child.

  “We’re leaving,” Evelina said to me.

  She turned with a flourish and made for the door, Peter quick on her heels. “Dress warmly,” he said. “The sea is cold this time of year, and your wife will not be there to warm you.”

  “Mormor,” I muttered after they vanished. “How am I to leave Netta?”

  * * *

  My wife was putting our baby to bed when I came to tell her my news. The candlelight made the lines in her face seem deep grooves, shadowed as she was. I thought how changed she looked from when I greeted her that morning. Hannah’s peril had done it, as had Saba’s departure. Netta was nothing if not living for her children.

  “Saba is gone,” she said, looking up from the baby’s crib.

  “I know.”

  I didn’t need to speak, my wife reading everything on my face. As Evelina had told me once, I was as transparent as they come.

  “She will be safe,” I said. “She’s with Finn.”

  Netta’s face softened, but her hands clenched into fists. “She can take care of herself,” she said. “I know she can.”

  “She will.”

  “She’d no choice but to go, I know it.”

  I moved toward my wife, a guardian angel standing over our newest child, the boy we’d yet to name. “Our daughters are strong willed, and resilient, you and I both know it.”

  “They are.” She looked down at the baby, his low gurgles making her smile. “So is this one.”

  “Yes. He needs a name to reflect his stalwart nature, doesn’t he?”

  “I’d like to call him Bitner,” she said, as though she’d contemplated it long and hard.

  “Bitner?”

  “I read it in one of your books.” She continued to gaze at our son, her cheeks reddening with her angst. She’d already anticipated my departure. “He’ll grow up to be wise like his father, and loyal like his kin.”

  “I love it. Bitner Bijarnarson.” I stepped forward, admiring the first boy born to us. I wondered if there’d be another.

  Netta reached for my hand, as I touched the bassinet. She squeezed it with all her might, and said, “I expect to see you again.”

  I reached for her chin, and pulled her gaze to mine. Her cheeks were awash with tears. “Oh, Netta,” I sighed. “I can only hope this is not the end. My days with you—” I couldn’t continue, strangled by the emotion welling up in me. I loved my wife, but a deeper knowledge came when I saw the truth in her eyes.

  She kissed me then, tugging me to her as though I could evaporate before her. She didn’t hold back, unleashing her hunger, leading me to our marriage bed. She pulled me down on top of her, crushing her body beneath mine, wrapping her legs about me as if to pulverize herself with my weight. In no time I saw stars, bringing her to the heights with me.

  When we were satiated, our need tipped over and drained out, I held her in my arms, as she recounted the day we first met.

  “You were all elbows,” she said with a chuckle. “You stuck your hand out to greet me, and I hugged you, do you remember? Your elbow went right into my cheek.”

  I blushed at the memory. She’s younger than me, but looked more a woman than I a man then. She was almost taller, her gangly legs covered in a pair of trousers she’d made from hides. Her hair was braided, wrapped about her head like a crown, and she had a fur over her shoulders. She was skinnier than me, too, but looked like she could knock me over with a single blow. I’d always been grateful to love such a sturdy woman.

  My thoughts turned to our purpose, the joy we’d both found in caring for my kin. She’d never expressed regret at the idea of donating blood. She’d been a model of generosity all the days I’d known her.

  “You must decide for yourself,” I said.

  “Decide what?”

  “Freyit will explain. But don’t trust another. Only he can tell you the truth.”

  “This is about Hannah’s change isn’t it?”

  I nodded, and she pushed herself up to rest on her elbow. She’d her head on my shoulder and I felt the dearth immediately. I grew cold when we no longer touched.

  “You know where I stand,” she said. “I’ve a debt to repay, a lifetime of blood to give. I’m made for this. My children are made for this. I won’t be forced to change.” She looked to the side, avoiding my eyes. “But I can’t make the choice for my grown children,” she said. “They must decide for themselves, and their children.”

  I couldn’t fault her for her logic. As much as I wanted the colony to respect my bloodline, I had to respect my daughters’ wishes. Their bodies were their own.

  “W
e can’t force any of them to do something they don’t want,” she said. “Neither can we prevent them from doing what they desire, or think best for their children.”

  Just as we’d let Saba make up her mind about motherhood, we’d let our other children decide their futures. “I agree.”

  “You do?” She let out a breath.

  “Of course.”

  “I was sure you’d insist on the opposite.”

  “You think me so unreasonable?”

  “Not at all.” She turned away.

  “Tell me.” I nudged her.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “This may be the last chance you’ll have to speak your mind for a while. Please don’t hold back.”

  She turned to me again, this time with a smile that revealed her lovely, blunt teeth. She’s got a beautiful gap between the two front ones, a family trait no doubt, since all of our children had it.

  “I thought you’d want to keep them as they are for your sake.”

  “My sake?”

  Her eyes welled with tears again, another trait the girls had inherited. They may have had Evelina’s lashes, but they had Netta’s ability to shed emotion.

  I touched her cheek, and hushed her, placing my lips on hers, kissing her as if I could take away the pain brewing in both of us. It’s quite unnerving to see the end, one’s days with another drawing to a close.

  I held her in my arms once more, bringing her head back to my shoulder where I memorized the weight of her, knowing what it was to be with her always.

  She spoke softly, barely a whisper. “If you can’t come back to me living,” she said, “return to me reborn.”

  My heart sank. The future seemed impossible, my destiny so tightly wound about my kin’s way of life that even my mortal wife expected my transfiguration. The blood in my veins would freeze either way, no longer fit for the matriarch or my Netta. But my legacy would continue to thrive before my immortal eyes, and I’d rise to bear it witness.

  * * *

  Saba watched the stars, holding to the course set out for her. It was Finn’s turn to rest. He’d shut his eyes, and put his head down, close to her. He couldn’t shake her presence. She’d been there all along, and when he came to, hers was the first face he saw. She’d sat at his bedside until he opened his eyes as she’d done when he first fell into her arms by the river. She didn’t tell him she knew his truth, the things the goddess had shown her. His purpose in her life was all too clear by then, but Saba didn’t speak her knowledge to a soul.