“It does.” Iladrul bowed low to him. “I assure you, Jon of Devonshire, that your aide to me now will long be remembered.”
“As your aide, many years ago, is being remembered today.” He bowed to Iladrul—actually bowed—and then turned away. His final words before he left Iladrul to stare after him were, “I only wish that there was more that I could offer.”
-15-
Na’amah sat at Prince Ishitar’s feet with her nose resting over her crossed paws and her eyes drinking in the features of her mother’s face. Ishitar often came to visit with his mother and, when he did, Na’amah was always allowed to join him.
“Damn it.” Ishitar muttered under his breath.
Na’amah, curious as to what had upset him, raised her gaze and released a tired whine. As she did so, she watched Lady Lucias deftly pluck the fairy from the kings’ board and raise it before her eyes to contemplate it for a long moment.
“I didn’t see it coming.”
“Take heart.” Lady Lucias gave him a guarded smile as she sat the fairy down with the other pieces that Ishitar had lost to her own pawns. “You’re miles improved from our first game together.” She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes flicking down to Na’amah and then back up to her son. “Your problem is that—like your father—you are more concerned with what is taking place on the kings’ board than you are with what is taking place in my head.”
“How in the name of Loki’s Gods be damned goatee am I supposed to know what’s taking place in your head?” Ishitar groused. “You didn’t give me the barest clue that you intended your pirate to visit the fairies’ grove.”
“Do you believe that a real pirate would give a real fairy any type of warning that he meant to visit the grove?” Lady Lucias asked. “Look at every one of my pieces. I’m within a move of every one of yours. They may not be looking your way. That doesn’t mean that they are not watching you.”
Na’amah whined over that particular sentiment.
She felt the tips of Ishitar’s fingers on the top of her head and she immediately quieted down. She sensed that playing kings’ castles with Lady Lucias was just one of the triggers that set the pain of his many violent headaches ablaze in his mind.
“I know that it is frustrating.” Lady Lucias sighed, her eyes returning to Na’amah. “But you must be prepared for every eventuality.”
Na’amah wanted to whine again as she held the Lady’s gaze, but she managed to keep her discontentment in her throat. Lady Lucias was looking at her more and more often lately, and always with a quietly curious expression that both terrified and troubled her.
It was as this thought was crossing her mind that a hesitant knock played at the main door of the cottage. She jumped to her feet, ready to trail after her mother to answer, when she heard Lady Lucias command that she stay and that Ishitar see who came to call. She howled at that, causing Ishitar to laugh and pat her head as he made his way past her.
When Ishitar was out of the room, Lady Lucias cloaked herself with a male face and turned her gaze away from Na’amah and toward Sappharon. Her hand, however, rose with one long finger pointing in Na’amah’s direction. “That isn’t a dog. I’ve known it from the start but I haven’t understood, exactly, whose child it is until today.”
“My Lady?” Sappharon signed, her eyes wide. Na’amah’s own heart began to thrum.
“Whose child, Sappharon?” She asked. “And don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t know what—”
“I know by the smell of it that it is yours.” Lady Lucias muttered. “Who is the father?”
Sappharon’s eyes darted to Na’amah. She swallowed and then returned her gaze to Lucias. “Does it matter, my Lady? I swear that he was my only indiscretion. Though I once loved her father, I have always known, in my heart, that it was a mistake. As has he. Besides, it was long, long ago.”
Lady Lucias’ eyes narrowed and then returned to their rights.
“No.” She finally conceded. “You and I have never been lovers. You are right in telling me that it doesn’t matter who you did love. Never mind that Noliminan would damn you and the child for it. I just have grave concerns over a dathanorna propagating lies to my son about what it is.”
Na’amah, let out another howling whine.
“She won’t hurt Ishitar.” Sappharon’s hand movements softened. “I promise you.”
Na’amah was grateful that her mother didn’t share with Lady Lucias that she had confessed to coming to love Ishitar. It would anger the Goddess to know that she was in a position to manipulate her son into loving her in return.
Lady Lucias sighed and returned her gaze to Na’amah. Finally, she granted her a tight—and very tired—smile.
“If you trust her then I suppose that there is no harm in having an extra pair of eyes upon him. But you must be careful that no one else discovers what you are. Your existence can only mean the death of both yourself and your mother.”
“We both understand this truth, my Lady.” Na’amah replied, lowering her gaze.
Lady Lucias, amused that she had spoken to her—and in her own female voice—let out a string of quiet laughter.
“Yes.” She said as the door opened and Ishitar stepped in with two young male vampires and one female vampire at his heels. “I suppose that you do.”
“Lucias.” Ishitar’s quiet, kind voice seemed hesitant to interrupt them. Na’amah knew that he had not heard their conversation. He seemed more taken aback by his mother’s male form than he was by her words with Sappharon, truth be told. It was the first time that he had seen the Lady cloaked in her male face since Na’amah had been with him. “These are Louis, Melody and Marchand. They are—”
“Jamiason’s twins.” Lady Lucias said, her tone that of surprise, as she found her feet. She held her hand toward the twins, each of whom shook it in turns. This made the Lady’s smile grow. “Or, his prodigy, to be more exact.”
“Yes, my Lord.” One of the twins said as he released her hand and bowed to her. “Forgive us for imposing on you so late in the day.”
“Not at all.” Lady Lucias seemed to beam at him. “Given your limitations, a late night visit is only to be expected.” Then with a smile. “How is the brat King?”
The twin who had not spoken laughed, causing Na’amah to shiver. It was a melodic, beautiful sound. Yet, it was also cold and terrifying. As for the woman, she remained still.
“I’m afraid that we’ve never seen that side of him, my Lord.” The one who had not laughed replied as his lips thinned. “He’s always been the model of seriousness and propriety when in our presence.”
“Yes.” Lady Lucias replied, indicating the sofa and biding the vampires to take a seat. “I’m afraid that he is a victim of his own disenchantment.” She lowered herself at the kings’ board, watching Ishitar return to his seat as she did so. Passing Na’amah, Ishitar reached between her ears and scratched the top of her head. Lady Lucias watched this as well, her smile once again becoming guarded as she appraised her. “It’s unfortunate because he was once so spirited.”
“So I understand.” The vampire said, taking his seat. “What a beautiful dog.”
“He belongs to my son.” Lady Lucias tore her eyes away from Na’amah and turned them toward the vampires. When she was no longer looking at her, Na’amah walked toward Ishitar and laid her head upon his thigh. Smiling, Ishitar wrapped his large, comforting hands around her muzzle and lovingly began to stroke her. “Her name is Ansibrius.”
“Ansibrius.” The one who had laughed muttered. “Interesting.”
“Quite.” Lady Lucias replied, bemused. “How might I help you, my children of the night?”
The smile immediately fled the laughing one’s face and his expression became dire. It was, again, the other who spoke. “Lord Jamiason has asked if we might borrower three of your winged horses.”
“Of course you may.” Lady Lucias shrugged. “To what purpose?”
“We must delive
r a message to King Wisterian.” The vampire child replied, his brow furrowed. “Our Maker said it was urgent that Wisterian receives it before news of some eminent disaster reaches the ears of the demons with which we keep our company.”
Lady Lucias let out a long, low whistle through her teeth. Na’amah had heard that whistle before. “I’d completely forgotten about the exiled angels and demons of the subsequent revolts.” She muttered. “Did Jamiason tell you what the Council means to do?”
“No.” The vampire shook his head.
“They mean to, once again, allow the Gods to change the sex of their servants at their whim.”
“They mean to do what?” Ishitar asked, lifting his gaze from Na’amah to look at his mother.
“You heard me, child.” Lady Lucias replied. Her dark brown eyes returned to young vampires. “If you think Iykva and the others are angry now, just you wait until this particular vote is passed.”
“They can’t do that!” Ishitar cried, standing. “Mima, you can’t let them!”
“Ishitar!” Lady Lucias snapped. “I am not your Gods be damned mother!”
Her eyes were darting nervously between each of the vampires. It was all too clear to everyone in the room that the moment that Ishitar had called Lady Lucias by the endearing term of ‘mother’ that all three of them knew exactly who Ishitar was.
It was even more clear—at least to Na’amah—that Lady Lucias’ surprised denouncement of Ishitar, as his mother, had wounded the young God in a manner that was irreparable.
Ishitar’s anger was palpable when he spoke. “The Quorum will be devastated!”
“To the Hells with the Quorum.” Lady Lucias snapped. “Quiet, you, and sit yourself down!”
Na’amah watched in fascination as Ishitar glared at Lady Lucias. His eyes flicked to the chair where he had been sitting and then back to his mother. When he spoke, his tone was hard and cold.
“To the Hells with the Quorum?” He demanded. “No, my Lord.” Lady Lucias’ eyes grew wide. This was the first time that Ishitar had ever addressed her in the male vernacular. “To the Hells with you. For your failure to protect the Quorum; your sons and daughters.” He growled. “But more so for your denouncement of me!” He looked away and seethed. “I have come to love you. To believe that you love me, too. But you really are no better than my father at the end of it. And you never loved me any more than he has ever done after all.”
“Ishitar, that’s not—!”
Ishitar waved his hand at Lady Lucias, silencing her, and then stormed out of the room. Na’amah found herself looking from her mother to Lady Lucias with wide eyed surprise for a moment before, knowing her place, she followed him.
-16-
Ishitar was miles down the path that led up the mountain to Zadkiel’s cottage before he seemed to realize where it was that he was headed.
When he understood his intent, he abruptly stopped.
“Damn it.” He spat before letting out a hard and irritated sigh. “I cannot go to Zadkiel.” He shook his head and turned his gaze to Na’amah, who had caught up with him and who, now, sat at his feet, looking quizzically up at him. “He will be furious about this. All that I will succeed in doing is getting him into trouble if my father learns I have been visiting him now.”
Na’amah merely continued to stare at him with her strange, mismatched eyes.
“Why do you have to be a Gods be damned dog?” Ishitar screamed at her. “I need a friend today! A real one!” He flicked his eyes to me and then back to Na’amah. “Not a brother that no one can see and certainly not a fucking dog!”
Na’amah flinched. Ishitar watched in what appeared to be surprise as his dog disappeared completely and then reappeared as the strikingly beautiful women that Na’amah was when she took on her mother’s face and form.
“What?” He looked around himself, seeming to panic. “Where is my dog? What did you do with her? I want my dog back.”
And, just as suddenly as the woman had stood there, now there was the dog.
Ishitar stared at her and then closed his eyes and shook his head. He was getting another one of his headaches. The change in face of his dog only served to compound it.
“Nritclkic.” He muttered an ancient word as he stepped toward the dog and opened his eyes. “This has been a terrible day.”
Na’amah, staring up at him, whined.
Ishitar, clearly overwhelmed with pain and anger, lowered himself to his hunkers. Na’amah stepped hesitantly forward. When she did so, Ishitar wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face in her coat.
As for me, I merely watched the pair with silent fascination.
“All I want in all of the worlds right now is to disappear out of everyone’s line of sight.”
-17-
“And he did.”
I grant Charlie a guarded smile. Charlie, who has been listening to me retell this tale in surprising silence, turns toward me with a furrowed brow.
“He did?” Charlie asks, sensing my pause.
“He did.” I sigh. “I couldn’t find him anywhere. And, as you can imagine, this caused me to panic.”
“Because . . . ?”
“Because he was the only one who could see or hear me.” I whisper. “I knew he was safe. Having watched him throughout the entirety of his life, I knew his true power better than he, himself, knew it. No one could harm him. Other than, perhaps, his mother and father. But what of me? What was to become of me if I were to lose the last visage of my corporeal self which was left to me?”
Charlie, despite the warmth of the day, shivers. Even though he believes I am spinning him a yarn of fiction, he has come to care for me and the other characters in my story. He has come to understand the true nature of my insanity in that moment and time when Ishitar was no longer standing before me.
“Did you find him?”
“I did.” I smile. “Through Na’amah’s eyes.”
Grinning, Charlie bows his head and reaches for Rocky, who sits at his side, to pet him. Every time I have mentioned Na’amah in Ansibrius’ form he has reached for him. He understands, more than most, the love that a man feels for his dog.
“After several hours of searching for Ishitar, I heard Loki’s voice through Na’amah’s ears, speaking to my boy within the confines of his bedchamber.” The memory warms me and makes me smile. “He was asking Ishitar to translate one of the images in the damned tome he was reading.”
“The tome he shouldn’t have been reading.”
“Just so.” I laugh. “And Ishitar, though irritated with Loki over the constant questions regarding the tome, gave him the translation for the very purpose of enticing him to leave the room.”
“Did he come back to you?” Charlie asks this question hesitantly. “Ishitar, I mean?”
Even more hesitantly, I respond. “Eventually.”
-18-
The challenge came far more swiftly than Thamores had anticipated. It also came, as Nala had prophesized, on the heels of him pulling one of the wolves off one of the young elfish girls who had ventured away from the camp to see to her necessaries.
Fortunately for the girl, Thamores had been on patrol that night. Even more fortunately for her, he happened to be walking down her row when he saw one of his wolves shifting his gaze around himself before darting out of the line of tents and into the forest.
He had dragged the wolf off of the girl—too late to spare her innocence—and slain him with a single bite to the neck. His brothers, who had never truly accepted Thamores as their alpha, had circled Thamores’ tent that very night and marked it in the manner in which wolves do when they mean to claim ownership over their territory.
Now he stood, wearing his human face, over the slain bodies of the three wolves, blood dripping down his chin and his mouth curled into a snarl. He growled low in his throat, daring anyone else who would challenge him to show their faces.
None did.
These three were the strongest of the pack aside the wolf
he had slain for raping the young elfish girl. If Thamores could slay them, he could slay them all.
“Tham.” Her voice was low and respectful. Her scent, which was musky and sensual, permeated the air. He would take her, as was his right, when he came to his senses. “It’s done. It’s over. Come bed me now.”
He first felt, and then heard, the growl that rumbled low in his chest. It wasn’t her place to tell him when his show of strength was over. It was even less her place to tell him when he could have her.
Seeming to understand, she stepped swiftly away. As she did so, he felt himself calming.
He was grateful for this small wonder. With the golden moon waxing, and the smell of blood permeating the air, he needed to reign in his senses.
As he gained control over himself, he realized that he was famished. And, to his chagrin, that the smell of elf all around him was enticing. He wondered, desperately, if the meat tasted as sweet as the vampires claimed the blood to be.
Damn you. They’re only children.
He swallowed the saliva that rushed into his mouth and rolled his eyes closed. As he did so, he turned toward the forest, hoping to catch the smell of game.
A deer. And not far away.
“Thank the Gods.” He muttered.
“Thamores?”
“Nothing.” He forced himself to smile. “I’m hungry. And, I smell meat.”
“So do I.” She said, her eyes darting to the nearest tent. She was thinking, he knew, the same thing that he had been. The smell of the elves was enticing. “Tham . . . ?”
“I know, Nala.” He sighed. “But I smell deer.”
The lines that had furrowed her forehead smoothed as a small, relieved smile played at the corners of her lips. “Enough for two?”
“Enough for two.” He agreed as he bent forward to kiss her forehead. The smell of her enticed him almost to the point where he forgot about his hunger for food. “And, then, I will take you.”
Turning toward the forest, Thamores leapt forward. By the time he reached the ground, he wore his wolf’s form on the run. Nala, who could only change with the waxing of the golden moon, smiled after him before following on her worthless, human’s legs.
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