“Yeah, me too,” Contessa nodded. “So awful—I hate Mother for what she did.”
“I have no memory of you being in there with us,” Mary Grace said. “I am not sure that you were . . .”
“Well, of course she was there,” Adelaide said. “Where else would she have been?”
“Yeah,” Beatrice agreed. “It was dark, but she was there. I definitely remember Contessa being there when Aunt Cornelia let us out, and we could finally see again!”
“Yeah, so stop your lies, Mary Grace,” Contessa snarled at the sneering Mary Grace.
“Aunt Cornelia was right about so much,” Adelaide interrupted, smacking her hand hard onto the sand. She was clearly used to sister on sister violence between these two. “It was all true what Aunt Cornelia told me!” she said. “I did not believe Grandfather Blackheart was involved with the goblins, because werewolves hate goblins. But he was!”
“Angus Blackheart wanted Cornelia to marry for money and his own personal gain—not love,” I said, watching the collective wave of young feminine outrage travel around the fire. “But your Uncle Jova made an offer that Angus simply had no ability to refuse.”
“It had to do with spiders—didn’t it?” Beatrice exclaimed. “I overheard one of the soldiers talking about spiders!”
“A story for another day,” I said, not sure if they knew of their Uncle Jova’s true identity.
Mary Grace looked me in the eye. “Now it makes sense. Grandfather Blackheart always did say, ‘Cross a Blackheart, and you are as good as dead,’” she said. “I always thought he was joking, but now I am not so sure.” She caught Lovely’s concerned eye. “Oh no, don’t you worry, Lovely. I am not mad at you anymore.”
“So what happens next, Father?” Beatrice asked. Her sisters all chimed in wanting to know what my plan was. I had considered not telling them the truth, but aside from some selective editing of my tale, I had vowed, with the full support of the Queen, to never lie to my daughters, and that included the unborn one in the Queen’s belly.
“Girls, you are going back to Sa Dragonera to continue your training with your grandfather,” I said. “The Queen and I have a plan to rescue Garlic.”
“But, Father,” Contessa pleaded. “We want to help save her. She is our dog too!”
I sighed. “You girls are not ready yet—though you are the most amazing young warriors, so far ahead of my skills when I was your age. But I cannot take you where I am going.”
“You are going to the Underworld, aren’t you?” Mary Grace said.
I nodded, and I expected more protests, more discussion, and more sass from Mary Grace, but instead, all I got was one big warm embrace. “I promise, girls,” I said. “I will come back with Garlic.” I sure hoped I could keep that promise.
“Can you tell us your plan?” Contessa said, her mental wheels turning once more.
“I cannot put you at risk, or tip my hand,” I said. And the truth was that most of my plan relied on my being absolutely correct in an assumption I was making about the Lord of the Underworld. If I was wrong, instant incineration was my fate. But I knew Garlic was still alive, and I knew the reason for her still surviving was simple—bait.
The next morning the ship to Sa Dragonera was first to arrive, and I could not believe my eyes for waving to me from the deck was my father, Ernesto Sinestra. When the girls spotted him, they took off in a mad sprint. “Come meet my father,” I said, grabbing the Queen by the hand and running after the girls.
Ernesto Sinestra leaped off the skiff onto the sand with the agility of the master assassin he was. He was fit and trim, his shoulders broad and strong. The girls swarmed him affectionately, and he pretended to lose his balance momentarily in their rush. Shouts of “Granddaddy” reverberated back to my happy ears as the Queen and I approached.
“My son,” he said. “How crazy is this? You and I are back in Sardinia!” He reached for his sword. “Are you ready for a rematch?”
I laughed and pointed to all the death and destruction still littering the beach. “I think I already had one,” I said, bringing out my bloodstained Blade of Truth. “But if you are game, then so am I . . .”
My father’s eyes went wide as he took in the mystical blade I held. “And just how in heaven’s name did you come to have that in your possession?” he said.
“It is rather a long story, but I don’t think heaven has anything to do with it.”
“The big boss might have need for you since, you know, you are wielding a Relic,” my father said. “We really should sit down and talk about you joining the family business.”
“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but his even bigger boss is not going to let that happen,” I said. “And there is something I have to take care of—actually a number of things. My life is really kind of complicated right now. So unfortunately, no rematch for us, all right?”
“Of course, of course,” my father said with a chortle as he again eyed the Blade of Truth. “That is a beauty, though. I will take you on any time when you aren’t wielding a weapon of such caliber. Only a fool would challenge you with that in your hand.”
“My dad is not a fool,” I agreed, sheathing the Relic.
“You look to have been quite busy here, though you have been apparently downright prolific since you left Sa Dragonera,” Ernesto continued. His dark eyes twinkled mischievously as his eyes went to the Queen. “And forget about the Blade of Truth being a beauty—this woman is beyond compare, your mother excluded, of course. So my boy, I see that you are keeping quite excellent company these days.”
“Father,” I said. “This is the Queen.”
“Sí,” he said. “That she is—and of more than just the seven seas.” He took her hand and kissed it gently, with a slight bow of his head. I had not seen my father in literally hundreds of years, yet for an immortal he somehow seemed more, well . . . mature. I saw the barest hint of crow’s feet around his eyes, and there were certainly more than a few strands of gray around his temples and on his sideburns. I realized I did not know how old my father really was, and perhaps he had always looked this way, even in my younger years. It just took some life experience on my part to see him for his true self.
The Queen laughed. “Now I know where Sirius gets his charm.”
“Sirius? Ah, right, I forgot that my boy has changed his given name, but I like it!” my father replied. “Sirius Sinister, now that is an assassin’s name!”
“Father, you always told me to find my true self, and that self is Sirius Sinister.” I reached to touch his graying sideburns, which I could not take my eyes off. “What is it with this stuff—were you in some sort of disguise before you came here? Isn’t this a mortal thing?”
“You know your mother asked me the very same question,” he said, stroking his sideburns and looking a bit perplexed. “Perhaps the truth is that too many missions slaying souls takes a toll on your own soul.”
It made sense to me. “You could tell him no,” I said.
My father shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, and you know it,” he answered.
“Who are you talking about?” the Queen asked.
“Oh, nobody at all,” Ernesto said. “We are just musing on our family business, which is rather demanding at times.”
“Father has an unusual onus,” I said.
The Queen smiled. “I think we all do—no matter what our race, or if we are immortal or mortal.”
“I agree with the beautiful lady,” my father said. “You know, there was always something a bit unusual about my dear Sirio, I mean my dear Sirius! His mother said he would do great things. And my grandchildren are certainly a good step in that direction. But, my boy, why all these marriages? Your mother is beside herself since she did not get one invitation! Who gets married twice anyway?”
I swallowed and glanced at the Queen since marriage number three
was going to happen as soon as possible. I stepped forward and embraced him tightly. “I miss you, Father,” I said, walking him and the Queen up the beach away from the girls. “And as to the marriages . . . well, it’s a little complicated.”
“It’s a lot complicated if even half of what my dear friend Hedley Edrick and your lawyer, Justice, told me is true,” my father said.
“So tell me,” I asked him, “how did you know the girls were mine—did Hedley Edrick tell you?”
Ernesto laughed. “No, Hedley only shares information that he feels is relevant to whatever grand scheme he has in that wonderful shiny bald head of his, and apparently telling me I was serving as the teacher for my four own granddaughters was not something he felt was important enough to tell me.”
“So how did you know, Ernesto?” the Queen said.
Ernesto looked over to the girls. “Actually,” he said, “when I was contacted by the Blackhearts, who I knew by reputation as bad characters, I was first inclined to say no. I kept starting to write a rejection letter to Angus, but I kept tearing it up. It was the strangest thing! I didn’t even know the girls were part vampire at that point. Why would I want to train some mangy werewolves? But for some reason I had a feeling that I should teach these young ladies. I passed it off as instructing a clan with such ill manners and self-serving actions as the Blackhearts in the proper rules of combat and the honorable code of the assassin guild was an opportunity not to be missed. However, there was something else.”
“What, Father? What was it?”
“Your mother, actually.”
“Mother wanted you to train them?” I asked, remembering how little interest she took in the family business. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Ernesto said. “I never asked. And then I got word they were traveling with a vampire Maltese. But I don’t know who was more shocked when we met—me or the girls. I’d like to say it was because I was training the first vampire/werewolf half-breed assassins in history, but that was not it. The girls were stunned because Garlic, knowing you are the blood of my blood, did not so much as growl when we met. Instead, she just walked right by me into the house like she owned the place. As for me, while I was taking payment from their handlers, all I could do was stand there with my mouth wide open, staring at Contessa.”
“Why? What was it about Contessa?” I asked.
Ernesto smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know if you know this, but I have known your mother since both of us were very young. You could say we grew up together. And Contessa is the mirror image of your mother at the same age, right down to that wondrous sparkle in her eyes. I could not believe it.”
“Amazing,” the Queen said. “And just like that, you knew they were your grandchildren.”
“More or less, because my dear son here has not so much as dropped us a letter to let us know of his comings and goings,” Ernesto said.
“I am thinking Sirius could not find a big enough piece of parchment to write about his coming things,” the Queen said quickly.
My father and I exchanged a glance before bursting into tears of laughter. “She is a keeper,” he said.
“You said ‘more or less,’ Father,” I said when I recovered.
“Oh yeah, right,” Ernesto added. “Of course, Hedley Edrick passed back through Sa Dragonera a week later, and confirmed the lineage of the werepires. Mere details . . .”
I realized there was something very important I needed to ask. “Father, are you the owner of that ship, and thus its de facto captain?”
“Son, you only need to see the name of that vessel to know the answer to that question,” my father answered. I peered out to where the ship was moored and saw its name painted in script, Hermosa Maria. Of course! My mother was everything to him, and it stood to reason he would name his boat for her.
“Why did Mother not come with you?” I queried, still debating the best way to ask a small favor from the man who clearly did not approve of me being married twice, and had to live with a woman who also was not happy with what I had—or who I had—been doing.
“You know your mother,” he said. “She is not one to travel, unless it is for her life’s work.”
“I see, right, of course,” I answered. But did I understand why my mother had not come? It had been so long since I had seen her, and so much had transpired in my life. Even my talking to my father here on this beautiful beach in Sardinia was a bit surreal, and when you threw in the fact that my children—his grandchildren—were now running around the beach as near adults, it was really quite incredible. But time was growing short, and my ability to wax philosophic was ending.
“Well, I am sorry that Mother is not here,” I said. “Because, Father, as the captain of the good ship Maria, I need you to marry me and the Queen.”
My father’s eyes almost bulged out of his head, and he opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The Queen stepped in. “Ernesto, we have a noble mission to embark upon,” she pleaded. “One we cannot do unless we are joined in matrimony.”
Ernesto recovered. “One does not get married for a mission—no matter how noble it is—one marries for love. True love! You cannot be serious!”
“Actually, he is Sirius, and he is serious,” the Queen said. “And I am even more so than he is!”
“Right,” I said. True love? I had been married once and not even known it. And I had been manipulated by guilt into a second go-around. At this point, a noble mission seemed to be a perfectly good reason to get married for a third time. I looked at the Queen, who flashed me that radiant smile of hers. She was absolutely gorgeous. And nice. And good with my daughters. And quite a warrior. And carrying my child. And I couldn’t wait to consummate the marriage and make it official on the way to Immortal Divorce Court to get divorced.
“Father, I have to go to Hell and save Garlic,” I explained, acting like what I was about to say and do made perfect sense. “She attacked Cerberus, and the portal to Hell closed, trapping her in the Underworld. She is alive. I cannot leave her there. The Queen and I will get married, go to Immortal Divorce Court, and get divorced, and in the process I will get myself found in contempt to get thrown in Hell and get Garlic back.”
My father shook his head. “I will not participate in this madness. You will die.” His face was red, and his eyes welled with tears, making me feel absolutely awful. “I wish I could talk to someone and see if I can put in a good word on your behalf, but the reality is that the grim one is all bones and no heart. So, I am sorry. You will have to find another way.”
The Queen leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “Ernesto, dear Ernesto,” she said, “I am with Sirius’s child.”
Ernesto nodded, and looked at me disapprovingly, which made me stare at the sand uncomfortably. “Yes, of course you are,” he said. “All right then, we go to the Hermosa Maria—let us hope that the third time is a charm for you, Sirius. But you are telling your daughters the truth, and, my Queen, that also goes for the child in your belly when it arrives!”
“That’s a deal,” the Queen said, not looking at me to see if I agreed. I didn’t, but my real issue was telling my girls about the marriage they were about to witness. We weren’t exactly sending the right message or showing them a great parental example. So there on the beach, I told the girls of my plan to marry the Queen, divorce her, and get sentenced to Hell to try and save Garlic.
“So you two are not marrying for love,” Contessa said. “I thought as much. I thought it was because you are going to have a child together, but apparently that makes no difference, being married or not.”
“No, no, no,” I said. “That just happened. You should be married before you have a child.”
“Why?” Mary Grace said. “You didn’t do that with us or the baby sister in the Queen’s belly. So what is wrong with a little ‘like father like daughter?’”
It was all
my father could do to not burst out laughing. He covered his mouth with one hand, remaining silent and looking to me for my answer. Any answer. I frowned—I had no answer. I felt my face growing red. They had a valid point there.
The Queen was enjoying watching me struggle, evidenced by the grin on her face. But she finally came to my rescue. “Girls,” she said, “if I can have a private word with you.” The Queen gathered them in a circle, and they hung on every word she said. I strained my ears to hear the conversation, but only grasped a few isolated words. At the end of the Queen’s speech, they all embraced her, and I saw Contessa and the Queen each wiping away a tear as they came back to where I stood rather perplexed.
“Now, that makes sense,” Adelaide said.
“Indeed,” Beatrice added. “Why didn’t Father just tell us that?”
The girls all hugged me, leaving my father now quite confused. He was hoping and waiting for more drama. Drama that never came. Contessa grabbed my hand. “That was so selfless and giving of you, Father,” she said.
“A gift,” Adelaide added.
“Destiny called and Father delivered,” Beatrice said, staring up at the heavens.
“Just so romantic!” Mary Grace quipped, glancing over at Lovely with a big smile.
Romantic?
The Queen told me later that she simply explained to the girls that she had wanted a baby for centuries but was destined not to have one, until the oracle told her differently. Only one person in the entire world could give her a baby—me—their father. I sure was giving to the Queen that day, I had to admit. In fact, I gave it to her the best I could. And now she had turned that moment of lust into a moment of, well . . . love. I was marrying one incredible woman. For a short while, yes, but she was incredible nonetheless.
So I found myself standing on the deck of the good ship Maria with my daughters by my side. The Queen and I were holding hands and standing in front of my father, waiting for him to pronounce the words that would make us husband and wife. The wind was blowing the Queen’s golden curls ever so slightly, and the water around us was smooth as glass, marred only by the floating orcas and merfolk idling casually in the water, awaiting orders from their soon-to-be married Queen. One took out a flute carved from the jaw of a shark and began playing a delightful melody.
My Ex-Wife Said Go to Hell Page 34
