“No…” my mom dragged out the word and let out a nervous laugh. “More like a myth or legend.”
“What?” Where on earth could she be going with this?
“The rumor that swirled around your adoption—which had always sounded ridiculous to us,” my dad said, “was that you are a descendant of someone…someone we don’t even know exists.”
I squirmed in my seat, leaning forward. “Who?”
“A goddess. From Hawaii.”
“Come again?” My stomach hollowed. What the hell were they talking about? “Are you messing with me? If so, it’s not funny. Not at all. This is something I’ve wondered my whole life and you’re laughing at me like it’s some joke.”
“No, no.” My mother waved a hand in distress. “We’d never do that. Never!” she insisted.
“Then why would you say something so ridiculous?”
“That’s what we’re saying, Maya,” my dad added. “That we thought it sounded as ridiculous as you’re taking it right now. But then…”
“But then, with your…abilities.” My mom nodded at the candle. “It rang with the tiniest fragment of truth.”
“How?” I planted my hands on my hips. What did this have to do with my thing with fire?
They glanced at each other once more with the silent communication thing.
“Just say it,” I snapped.
“Okay.” My mom exhaled. “The story we heard was that you were found near a volcano on the Big Island in Hawaii. And the reason why is because you’re a descendant of Pelé.”
“Pelé?” I repeated. “Who’s that?”
My dad waved his hand over the top of the candle. “The goddess of fire and volcanoes.”
What the hell? My breath quickened and palms turned sweaty. Thoughts spun wildly, like a panicky mob running without direction during an emergency. My gaze drifted to the candle, and I stared at the flame. All the mysteries of my background somehow seemed condensed to that tiny fire reaching for oxygen. My stomach churned. I’d never felt more confused.
Raising my eyes, I pinned my gaze on each of them. What had they been keeping from me my entire life?
“Tell me everything.”
Nike
As the weeks passed, I adjusted to immortality. Although I’d already taken on a more nocturnal schedule since I’d been with Michel, the absolute break from sunlight was more difficult than I’d imagined. A world of darkness is literally that—dark. Fortunately, my vision was more acute, even in the dark. I suppose that made up for some adjustments.
Drinking the blood from a human source both fascinated and disgusted me. I hoped that I would learn to shed my mortal repulsion of tapping someone’s vein to sap their life force, but that would likely take time.
Sex was amazing with all my senses turned up a notch, but after the honeymoon period, the malaise returned. I’d thought choosing one world would end the feeling of being off-kilter.
I was wrong.
Oh, what the hell. Maybe it was just me.
Something wasn’t right, and I couldn’t exactly place what it was. Rather than immortality bringing us together, it seemed like it was pushing us apart. I’d snap at Michel with little provocation. I tried to blame it on the adjustment, that perhaps my hormones were out of whack, but I sensed that was bullshit. Something was gnawing inside me and I took it out on him. What a jerk I was.
Michel remained patient with me, saying it would take time, but I saw how my words cut him. He loved to climb in the rock-climbing gym after hours, so nobody would see how easily he could scamper up walls. Or he’d go out and experience live music or clubs, like Vamps. But not lately. He’d grown withdrawn, spending more time brooding alone in a room at home.
One night after we’d visited a couple of donors in Salem to feed, we returned to our place. Few words were spoken. It was clear that a canyon was spreading between us. Michel suggested we walk out in the backyard. It was a moonless night with only a few stars, the darkness as bleak as our situation.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Good question. I wish I knew the answer. “I don’t know. Something’s off.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just—something is just wonky. Maybe I’m just screwed up from the change.”
“You haven’t been a nightwalker for long. It will take some time to adjust.”
“That part I expected,” I answered. “But there’s just something that’s—what’s the right word—lacking?”
“In your life?”
Life was an odd word to use now, but how else to explain the existence of the undead?
“Yes.”
He eyed me with wariness. “In our relationship?”
“No,” I answered quickly. “Yes. Maybe.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not making it easy to follow.”
“I know. You’ve been good to me all this time and I’ve been a jerk lately. I should probably thank you for immortality instead of being so bitchy.”
His lips curled into a sneer. “I wouldn’t expect anyone to thank their maker for this existence. It’s not what you thought it would be, is it?”
I studied his face, trying to interpret what he meant. “Being a nightwalker?”
“Yes.” He raised his chin. “I sense your frustration.”
For some reason, that struck a sour note. “And I sense your misery at being with me,” I snapped.
Ugh, why did I go there? Jeez. Couldn’t we have a normal conversation without me lashing out?
“That’s not how I feel,” he responded.
“Well, how do you feel?” I was careful to keep my tone neutral.
He ran his fingers over the stubble on his chin. “Conflicted.”
“Why?”
“I never wanted to change anyone, least of all you. And now I see how miserable you are.”
I raised my index finger and pointed at him. “So, you regret doing it?”
“In a way.”
Despite the sorrow in his tone, his reply flipped my crazy switch. “Oh, I’m sorry to be such a burden to you.” I flicked my wrist. “Saddling you with regret.”
“That’s not what I meant, Nike.”
“Well, it sure sounds that way.” I stormed through the yard. “I’m sorry I guilted you into changing me. I should have found some other vampire who would have gladly done it and walked away, so we didn’t have to be a burden on each other. Someone who’d leave me the fuck alone!”
What the hell was happening to me? The frustration had boiled into a full-blown rage.
He eyed me with a cool blue gaze. His eyes were such an intense blue. When he smiled, it was with the brightest of blues. But when he grew angry, his icy stare could cut glass.
“Is that what you want? To be left alone?”
“Yes,” I said. “Dear God, yes.”
Where did that even come from? It burst out of me in my fury.
“I’ll give you space.” His glare softened. “As much as you need.”
A melancholic edge in his words signaled how this pained him. I struggled to control my anger and keep my voice even. “Thank you, Michel.”
“You can stay here. I’ll find someplace else.”
Of course he would. He had plenty of real estate and could easily find a place to crash. Me, well, I’d become dependent on him.
Ah, yes. That was a problem.
“If you need me, you know where to find me.” He gave me a mournful look that ripped into my soul and then turned and walked away from me.
After he left, I started to piece together the shards of turmoiled thoughts into a coherent picture, since none of my recent actions made any sense to me. Before the attack, I’d always strived to be independent. I was proud of my career and at having my own place. But since the night I’d left Vamps with Michel, I’d had to rely on him—and that was a problem. Well, not anymore. I could go back to being a strong woman who took care of herself, instead of depending on a man—or a nightwalker.
Now that I knew how to acquire blood from donors, I’d have sustenance. Avoiding sunlight was the other big consideration, but there were plenty of places to hide. Sure, finding an apartment and source of income would be more comfortable, but hell, I was the undead—I could exist by creeping through a cemetery if I chose. Perhaps I was being delusional or naïve, but I’d find a way to survive on my own.
After he left, my racing emotions calmed. And with it flowed an avalanche of questions and regret.
What had I done?
Why did I push him away?
Fuck. First, I’d pushed Maya away and now Michel. What was wrong with me?
I curled into a ball under the bed. For someone who had craved independence, I sure the hell had plenty of that screaming ahead of me.
Had I made the biggest mistake of my life—both human and undead?
Maya
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I told Tristan that evening. The pounding of the bass reverberated above us, a muted background sound down here on the lower level of Vamps.
We were in his lab, his workspace beneath Vamps where we’d shared many fond and illicit memories. They’d started out with him trying to find a cure for his ailment, but often ended up with sexual experimentation—my favorite kind.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because the story of Pelé is merely a legend. She’s a goddess in a myth. I can’t be a descendant of someone who isn’t even real.”
Tristan shrugged. He ran his fingers over an old leather book. Hmm, that was an odd reaction.
“You’re not telling me you believe it, do you?”
He raised his gaze to meet mine. “I descend from a long line of witches. Did you believe that they were real before you met me?”
“No, but…that’s different.”
“How?”
I glanced around as I formulated a response. His workspace was full of spell books, jars, bottles, and herbs. I raised both hands and dropped them in frustration. “I don’t know. It just is.”
“Many witches believe in goddesses and gods.”
“Do you?”
“Why not? It’s a type of spirituality. Everyone has their own beliefs.”
I scrunched my face. I’d come here exacerbated and confused after dinner with my parents. I thought Tristan might share my disbelief with the whole conversation, but he seemed to accept it as normal. Did I even know him as well as I’d thought?
Damn, I wish Nike and I hadn’t had a falling out. As much as I loved Tristan and appreciated how we connected, there was something different about hanging with your friend and working out your inner confusion over a bottle of wine. I always felt better after we hung out…except when I’d overindulged and had a head-rocking hangover the next day, but I’d learned my limits.
Usually.
“What’s the part that you’re having trouble believing the most?” Tristan asked.
I went over what they’d revealed at dinner earlier, which still volleyed around my head like a damn racquetball bouncing off the walls of my brain. After they’d adopted me, they’d heard stories of my origin. I was found near a volcano, so close to lava flows that it was thought to be a miracle I’d never been hit by any flumes. Locals brought me to authorities, and I’d ended up in an orphanage. My biological parents were unknown, but whispers indicated that I was a descendant of Pelé, the goddess of fire and volcanoes. My parents had scoffed at those stories. They’d thought my being discovered was luck, and that whoever had left me near the lava had done so because they couldn’t care for me. But when I’d started to show my abilities to manipulate fire at a young age, it terrified them. They thought of the rumors. Could there be some truth to them?
I was having a hard time believing it myself. It just couldn’t be real.
“I’m human,” I finally said. “Not the descendant of a goddess.”
“You’ve always been a goddess to me,” Tristan declared.
That made my heartbeat with a pitter-patter that made me wonky. “Oh, that’s sweet. But you know what I mean.”
“Yes,” he replied. “And I the first time we met, I saw a beautiful exotic woman surrounded by light while everyone else around her was surrounded by darkness. If there’s anyone who I could conceive of being part goddess, it’s you.”
Holy shitake, my racing heart shifted into light speed. How we’d found each other was a bit of providence. Isabella had thought Tristan and I had been drawn together for a reason, that somehow I was a key to helping him work with his magical gifts. And we did end up being able to work together to break through the darkness for him to see more clearly. He now could read people’s colors and work with what he saw to help them heal. His grandfather had been a healer, as well.
“I don’t know what to say,” I replied. “It’s like I finally have the answer to a question that’s burned through me my whole life—where did I come from? Only to find out the story is much more epic than I ever could have dreamed. And, if there’s any truth to it, why couldn’t it be related to a goddess of creation, not destruction. I skimmed over the stories, and what I’ve read indicates Pelé has a volatile temper and throws fire and burns a vicious path of destruction through the land.”
Tristan made a sound of acknowledgment. He walked over to his bookshelf and pulled out an atlas. He flipped through the pages until he came to one of Hawaii and placed it before me.
“You see all these indications pointing to the lava flows and how they shaped the land?”
“Yes.”
“All this new land was created.”
I furrowed my brows. “Where are you going with this, Tristan?”
“Scientists will point to a scientific explanation of what causes volcanoes to erupt and mountains to flow. Others may point to Pelé and the stories of how she created the land. In the end, the outcome is the same—the shoreline extended, enlarging the island.”
“You’re saying this tempestuous goddess—who’s been said to have destroyed the land with volcanic eruptions—is a creator?”
“It’s all in your perspective, isn’t it?” he replied.
I rolled my shoulders. “I suppose…”
“This mysterious origin that’s tormenting you doesn’t matter in the long run. What matters is that you’re here now, and what you choose to do with your life shapes your future.”
He was probably right. Perhaps I was dwelling on something that wouldn’t affect my life. I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Damn, Tristan.” I cocked my head and dropped my hands to my hips.
“What?”
“You can get deep when you want to.”
He laughed. “I could respond with an innuendo, but I have a surprise for you.”
I raised my brows. “You’re skipping the innuendo and going right to the offer for sexual favors?” Not that I was complaining. I eyed the bookcase that served as a hidden passageway to a room with a bed.
He grinned. “Ah, Maya. Later tonight. The surprise is in the club.”
“Interesting.”
He led me upstairs. The Velvet Cocks were on stage, one of Nike’s and my favorite bands. They were playing “Never Trust a Woman with an Asp.” I booked them as often as I could. Once again, I thought of Nike and how she should be enjoying the show with me. But no.
Ah, enough of lamenting the end of a friendship. I was sick of mooning over it like I was a goddamn werewolf howling into the night. She wanted her distance. To hell with her. She could have it. I had my own life to live—a natural one—not the undead variety.
Tristan and I ordered drinks from Tracy. He sipped a draft beer, and I sipped at a Fruits of Temptation cocktail. Then we settled near the bar and watched the show. The Velvet Cocks alternated between their short, fast punk riffs, and some of their newer songs, like “Annabel Lee.”
A few songs later, Nico, the lead singer, gave an almost imperceptible nod to Tristan. What was that about? I generally handled all the bookings. If there was an issue, they’d talk to me. I
glanced at Tristan, but he remained stone-faced, revealing nothing.
Nico addressed the audience. “We have a special announcement here tonight,” he said, his voice lightly tinged with his English accent. “Many of you know Tristan, who owns the club, and his lovely girlfriend, Maya, who honors us by inviting us back here to play often.”
When Nico pointed us out, we both raised our drinks in acknowledgment. The crowd cheered in enthusiasm at the idea.
“Well, I have some smashing news—they’re now engaged.” After many cheers and wolf whistles, Nico added, “And we’re thrilled to play a song that Tristan requested for Maya many moons ago.”
My heart pirouetted. I remembered the time; remembered the song. It was when Tristan and I got back together after that messy ordeal with the couple and the fire. After the song, Tristan had asked me to move in with him.
The first notes of “#1 Crush” played, confirming it.
Too say I swooned would be an understatement. My insides pretty much liquefied like hot lava.
Oh great, a perfect metaphor for my confusion and possible tie to the goddess of volcanoes.
“Oh, Tristan,” I said.
“I love you, Maya. That will never change, no matter where you came from. All I know is that I’m lucky to have you here with me, and I’ll never take that for granted.”
Nico crooned the lyrics with a perfect, haunting tone. They played an enchanting version of the song that could probably sweep everyone under its seductive charm.
After that song ended, Nico said, “Now here’s one for us all to celebrate with them.”
The band played “What I Like About You” by the Romantics, and the crowd cheered. Although we’d have an intimate wedding, this was like a kick-ass engagement party at Vamps.
After the band’s set ended, Tristan and I ended up back downstairs in the lab.
“Thanks for arranging that for me,” I told Tristan. “You treat me so well. I’d like to return the favor.”
Combust: a vampire and firefighter paranormal romance (Underground Encounters Book 7) Page 6
