Never Show Fear

by Nicola Claire

  I drop the nanny and say, “You are fired. Leave the city.”

  “The city!” she yells at me. “This is my home. You can’t make me leave.”

  I am not proud of myself right then, but I let the human see exactly who she agreed to work for. I call on the power of the Iunctio and show her the face of the monster within.

  The dragon peeks out and snorts softly. He is not amused with me either, it seems.

  The woman stammers something incoherent and then stumbles backwards until she can stand on her own feet. With one last defiant look at me, she storms from the room.

  I huff out a breath of air I do not need to breathe. Why is everyone so defiant suddenly?

  Happy with yourself? Lucinda asks me.

  Strangely I am not. Not yet, I tell my heart and moon, but I will be.

  “Lucien,” I say aloud to catch the attention of my son. He reaches out for me with chubby arms beginning to lengthen. At just shy of four, they won’t be called toddlers for much longer. And it’s not as if they have been toddling anywhere lately.

  They flat-out run or spin or fly through the air.

  For a second, I think Ansel will not release my son to me, but he eventually acquiesces with a look of horror briefly flashing across his features. He needs to feed. The small wounds I inflicted have affected him far greater than they should have.

  I am saddened by this realisation. My eyes meet Alain’s. He has noted the poor hunger control as well and minutely nods his head to me.

  I will have to make a decision regarding this vampire and soon. But for today, I have other plans.

  “We’re going fishing,” I tell my children. Lucien claps his hands and and Éliane pouts.

  “Ew, fish!” my daughter tells me.

  “In a boat,” I advise.

  “Stinky.”

  Alain shakes his head and hands my daughter to me. One in each arm; I couldn’t be more balanced. I feel the soothing weight of them both externally and internally. Like their mother, they are a balm.

  “Fishing,” Alain says dubiously.

  “Why not?” I ask. “Is it not something a father does with their offspring?”

  “Forgive me, Michel,” my old friend says with humour, “but you are not simply their father.”

  The weight of office bears down on me. And yet, I have not taken an evening off since assuming the mantle of Champion.

  “A few hours,” I tell my second. “How bad can things get in a few hours?”

  He shakes his head at me and hands Ansel a sword. “En garde,” he instructs his student.

  I have been dismissed.

  I kiss Éliane’s forehead and sneak a raspberry onto Lucien’s neck and leave the training room to my spymaster and his protégé.

  * * *

  It is a common misconception that vampires abhor water. I have heard it said that we cannot cross streams or rivers. It is utter nonsense.

  What we cannot seem to do is catch a damn fish.

  We have been at this for several hours and the moon is low in the sky. I am beginning to think the fish can sense what I am and are afraid of me.

  They should be. I want a bloody fish for my children to catch and if I have to, I’ll dive on in there and strangle the damn thing.

  Éliane is humming a tune I have heard her mother often sing. And Lucien is studiously holding his fishing rod and bobbing it up and down just like I showed him. I watch my children with a sense of belonging that I only ever experience when with Lucinda.

  A sprite alights on the gunwale of the dinghy, distracting me. It flaps its translucent wings at us and then titters when a fish jumps out of the water mere feet away; ignoring our bait completely.

  “Go home,” I tell it. “Tell your King I do not need his help in this.”

  If Aliath sent the sprite then it’s because he finds my inadequacies amusing.

  The sprite laughs and dances around Éliane’s head. My daughter reaches up a still chubby finger and tries to touch the annoying creature. For a while they play chase in the bow of the boat making it rock alarmingly.

  And then Lucien lets out a cry of joy when his line pulls taut. And suddenly I’m struggling to keep the dinghy steady as arms and legs go flying and the sprite flits between us all making things more precarious than they need to be, and Lucien grunts as he reels, and Éliane giggles as she tries unsuccessfully to catch the sprite, and I land on my rear in an undignified heap at the stern.

  And finally Lucien’s fish breaks the surface.

  It is big. And we all - Éliane, Lucien, myself and the sprite - stop what we’re doing and stare appreciatively at the poor thing.

  I fumble for the net, something falls over the side but it’s not a child so I ignore it, and then the fish is safe and Lucien is beaming and Éliane is clapping her little hands…and the sprite lands on the seat just in front of my daughter who reaches out as all children do to the fascinating and caresses the delicate winged being.

  And in a flash of sparkling light they are gone.

  I stare at where the sprite was. At where Éliane just was. I do not breathe. I do not move. I am still and uncomprehending. And then Lucien is calling for his twin and the dragon-within is rising on leathery wings, wanting to burn everything before him.

  “Éliane,” I say, my voice unnaturally quiet.

  “Ellie!” Lucien cries out, his fish forgotten in the bottom of the dinghy.

  Merde! I have lost my daughter. To a sprite of all things.

  They are harmless creatures and firmly in the Dark Court of Faerie. They are loyal to the Dökkálfa King. If Aliath is playing a trick for the sake of amusement, I will have to storm Álfheimr and no one wants a war between the Nosferatu and the Fairies.

  Least of all, I had thought, Aliath, their King.

  I search for my cell phone and find it missing. I realise it was that which fell into the water earlier. No doubt the true objective of the sprite. It seems like something they would find amusing. I cannot envisage a sprite doing anything nefarious to my daughter.

  But the evidence is there. Or not there as the case may be. Éliane is missing.

  I open the link to Lucinda, but she would never let me live this down. I am in charge of our children’s well-being while she is helping Amisi and Gregor.

  I can do this. I can find one lost sprite and one lost daughter without having to run to my kindred for help.

  I clear my throat and offer Lucien a smile.

  “It looks like we’re going to play a game of Hide and Seek,” I tell him.

  “Ellie hiding?”

  “Yes, Lucien. We have to find her.”

  “Ellie likes the war-robe. She wears Mama’s shoes.”

  “We shall try there,” I say, hoping the sprite had the good sense to take my daughter back to the Plaza and not into Faerie.

  Sprites don’t often play tricks like this. They are not Light Fey; tricksters and Ljós-hungry. They cannot lie and usually cannot do more than teleport from place to place. But if this sprite is different or under the influence of another, then perhaps they would have access to a mobile portal.

  I did not sense one. And the magic on the air smells more like a sprite’s than anything else. The sprite had to have teleported. But to where?

  And why? my dragon-within asks ominously.

  I push the worry and fear aside and navigate the murky waters back to shore. A limousine awaits. I would flash to the Plaza but my vampires are already searching there and Lucien needs the comfort and warmth of the vehicle. I look up at the moon one last time to gauge the hour, although doing so is unnecessary. I can tell we have no more than an hour before dawn.

  I wish Lucinda were here.

  I straighten my shoulders and lift Lucien out of the boat and then walk in a sedate manner toward the waiting vehicle. My driver is human and the car is well shaded. Should the sun rise, I would be safe.

  I nod my head to the man and slip into the rear seat with Lucien. His car seat is waiting and I strap
him in it; the familiar and mundane motion soothing me somewhat.

  Why would someone use a sprite to steal my daughter?

  The drive to the Plaza seems to take an eternity, but once we arrive, the hotel is in a flurry of activity. Marcus and Matthias greet me, as does Alain and Ansel the fledgling vampire.

  “We have searched all the usual places,” Alain instructs me. “She is not here.”

  No, because that would be too easy.

  I hand Lucien off to Matthias, who recognises the burden I have placed at his feet. He cannot afford to lose this one as I have lost the other.

  I shake my head.

  “You tried Lucinda’s wardrobe?” I ask as we head deeper into the Plaza. Alain nods his head in reply.

  The sun calls but we all turn our backs on her enticing tune. It is harder to do because I fear my daughter is out there; somewhere. Somewhere apart from me.

  Éliane, I call through our link. She does not reply but I sense her there. Her location, however, is hidden from me.

  “Someone is playing a dangerous game,” I growl and stalk across the lobby.

  The private lift is waiting and we all board it. Marcus and Matthias exit on the family level, taking an exhausted but still fussing Lucien with them. I do not envy their task. My son can be stubborn. Not quite as stubborn as his sister and mother. But nonetheless, there will be cartoons and warm milk aplenty.

  Marcus and Matthias have their work cut out for them. The fifth viewing of the Cars movie can be quite grating.

  I storm into my office and immediately activate the stone Lucinda keeps in a locked safe hidden behind a family portrait.

  The scent of ozone and peaches wafts on the air before an irate Fairy King steps through an open portal.

  “You are not the princess,” Aliath accuses. The stone was a gift to Lucinda; not me.

  He is barely dressed. His shirt askew, his face flushed, his hair messed. And is that lipstick I see on his neck?

  “Did I disturb you, Your Highness?” I ask mildly.

  Perhaps it is the mild tone of my voice or the fact I used the calling stone at all that clues him in.

  He straightens, ignoring his unkempt look, and says, “What has happened? Is it Lucinda?”

  I have long ago forced myself not to rise to the lure of jealousy as a fish does bait. Aliath and Lucinda’s relationship is a complicated one. But Lucinda is my kindred and that trumps everything.

  “Éliane,” I say with a surprising amount of calm.

  Aliath stills. He is Fey so their reasons for doing anything can be varied. Even the Dark Fey who cannot lie have a way of twisting things. So, his fondness for the twins could have many different reasons. I’d like to think he simply enjoys their innocent company.

  But then, innocence to a fairy could have evil connotations.

  Aliath, however, I do not believe is evil. A product of his upbringing, but not inherently evil.

  “Did you take her?” I ask and blow all diplomacy out the window.

  He stares at me and then says in a voice full of power, “I will forgive you the question and implied threat as you are worried for your daughter’s safety. But do not test me Champion. You interrupted an enjoyable evening with my beloved. I am feeling the uncontrollable desire to make someone pay.”

  Mated fairies can be so dramatic.

  “A sprite took Éliane from me,” I say.

  He sucks in a breath of air. “Were you on water?”

  “Yes.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “Fishing,” I say and see the smirk before it blossoms on his fey-like face.

  Aliath has toned his appearance down this morning. His hair is still silver but his eyes are simply green. And his skin could almost be mistaken for human. It hadn’t been, when he’d first appeared. But he is making an effort now not to escalate things.

  That alone allows me some breathing space. The dragon paces, worried for our daughter, but Aliath’s concession has given my vampire-within, too, some huffing and snorting space.

  “Water sprites are not tricksters,” Aliath says slowly. “And I am not aware of any sect changing allegiance.”

  “Is that possible?”

  He scowls at me. I have asked another question, which is not a wise thing. But again, Aliath allows me this misstep without consequence.

  “You are aware that Ljósálfar have been spotted outside of their borders.” Unlike me, Aliath does not phrase the sentence as a question. “They are being particularly difficult to locate and their influence has been felt in my Court.”

  This is not news to me. The Ljósálfar have been caged for only a few short years. They in turn had caged their Darker brethren for centuries before that. If some have escaped, it is an unfortunate reflection on Aliath’s reign. He will be suffering malcontent within his Court because of this. An easy task it would be for a Light Fey to suborn one of his kind, then.

  Have the sprites been induced to aid their mortal enemies?

  This is far worse than I had at first assumed.

  I may not have simply lost my daughter to a playful sprite. I may well have lost her to the Ljósálfar.

  Lucinda is going to kill me.

  * * *

  It takes everything in me not to call Lucinda. But I am the Champion of the Iunctio. A five hundred year old vampire. I am joined with a kindred Nosferatin and therefore a formidable power.

  Plus, Gregor would find out through Amisi and I would never hear the end of it.

  I pace the office fending off vampires who rush to aid me. Alain organises more search parties, but with the sun high in the sky we are limited to searching and then researching the hotel. I even go so far as to call in the ghouls. They set out when we cannot, but so far there has been no word back from them.

  Éliane has been missing for four hours.

  I check in on Lucien and spend too long staring at him in his bed. I’m told it only took one session of the Cars movie to convince my son he had been up all night, been out fishing with his father in the fresh air, and caught the monster fish of his so young life which is really quite exhausting. I envy him his ability to sleep when so much is uncertain.

  His hand hangs over the side of his bed as if reaching out to his sister. My eyes are called naturally toward her side of the bedroom. They still share a room. They refuse to sleep apart.

  But tonight Lucien sleeps alone while Éliane is lost to him and me.

  I turn and meet Matthias’ eyes.

  “I will watch over him, Master.” It is not often my vampires need to use that title. Alain did earlier for Ansel’s sake. But Matthias has not needed to for years.

  My hand lands on his shoulder but I cannot thank him. Words fail me.

  I walk out of our quarters and return to my office, but there is nothing new of note there.

  The ghouls are searching the streets. Aliath is contacting the sprites in Faerie. And the Plaza has been turned inside out several times now. She is not here.

  Éliane is still missing.

  I collapse into my chair and stare at my desk. There are letters there and internal memos. Wax sealed missives and gifts sent by petitioning vampires. I sit back in my seat and slip onto the Iunctio; the supernatural network has not announced my lost daughter for the world to see.

  One. It would be unwise to admit such a failing.

  Two. It might jeopardise any negotiations that might ensue.

  And three. I do not relish a silver stake to the chest when Gregor mischievously lets slip to Lucinda that there is an announcement on the wire about our missing daughter.

  I close my eyes, falling out of the Iunctio and then automatically seek out Éliane in her dreams.

  It is with a shock that I find my daughter asleep and dreaming.

  I almost fall out of the dream. But of course, she would sleep. As Lucien sleeps now with no worries. It would take a battle zone to persuade either of my children to miss their respite.

  The fact that there clearly i
s not a battle zone wherever Éliane sleeps is only a momentary relief.

  She is dreaming of Faerie.

  Does that mean the sprite took her there?

  “Look, Papa!” Éliane exclaims. “The clouds make pretty pictures.”

  I step quietly up to her side. We are standing on a hill overlooking the Dökkálfa castle. Pennants float on the breeze. Aliath and his mate are home in my daughter’s dream. But Éliane is not looking at the fairytale castle, she’s watching the clouds as they perform picture art for their captive audience.

  An enormous fish dives into imagined waters, dwarfing the cloud shaped like a rowboat.

  “That’s Luc’s ‘ish,” she says.

  “It is,” I agree. “But it didn’t get away.” This fish is swimming freely about the cloud dinghy.

  “Don’ be silly,” Éliane says. “All an’mals free here.”

  “Are they?” I ask, crouching down beside her.

  “Only the good ones,” she explains. “The bad ones locked up and ‘Liath throw the key ‘way.”

  She is too young to know of these things.

  She is too clever to have not picked up on what is happening.

  War is brewing again in Álfheimr. I feel it. Aliath feels it. And so does my daughter.

  “Is the sprite a good one, ma chérie?” I ask.

  “She plays with me.”

  “Right now?” I look around the dreamscape but there is no sprite I can see.

  “No, Silly!” My daughter thinks everyone silly. “At home.”

  At home. At the Plaza. In my hotel which is warded in every which way it can be. No fairy can enter unless invited. Aliath has a standing invitation, much to my chagrin. But no other, be they Dökkálfa or Ljósálfar can enter the Plaza without an arrangement.

  “In your bedroom?” I query lightly.

  “Yep.”

  “Where else, chérie?”

  “All over house.”Éliane, like her brother, believes the hotel is simply a very big house. They have lived in no other location. To them, the Plaza is home.

  “Did you invite the sprite to play with you?” I ask carefully.

  “No ask. Just play.”

  “How long has this been happening?”