Somehow, she had the feeling she'd succeeded in opening the suspicious crate, but even that memory was so fuzzy it was more like a dream. So she pushed it aside for now in favor of asking, “So what happened? Why am I here, and covered in blood?”
Still sitting next to a tree several feet away, Victoria took a breath as if to prepare before relating, “Last night, you came to the estate with a storm fae, and broke into a display case in Dalris' gallery. The magical wards protecting his property knocked you out, and while you were unconscious, your fae sister tried to kill you.”
“What? Kill me?”
Isadora was aghast at the mere thought of one of her sisters attacking her. But the blood staining her shirt was a good indication that Victoria's story was true, and the draconian wasn't done surprising her.
“Yes, she stabbed you with a dagger, and would've pierced your heart if not for an old friend of my brother's named Mathias. He witnessed the whole thing, and said your eyes were white as if you were under a spell.”
“Spell?”
Nodding, she qualified, “Mind control. So don't move too far from where you're sitting. I've used a containment sphere to erect a barrier around you in case you were still being controlled when you woke.”
Though Isadora couldn't blame her for taking such a precaution, she wasn't comforted knowing the truth. Mind control? That could explain the gaps in her memory, but the thought that anyone had enough power to control a fae—and could be controlling her even now—was distressing.
Yet she felt no compulsions to perform any random tasks, nor did she hear any voices trying to compel obedience. But that didn't mean she was out of danger, prompting her to suggest, “We need some witches to come out and cast a cleansing spell to banish any magic being used.”
“I know,” Victoria nodded, proving she was miles ahead of her in explaining, “while you were recovering, I called Adriana. She sounded just as baffled by all of this as you do, and promised to teleport here with some witches once the sun came up.”
“Good,” Isadora remarked, exhaling a sigh of relief. Adriana was a sun fae who could teleport during daylight hours, and like herself, she practiced the Craft. Furthermore, her werewolf mate belonged to a pack possessing several practitioners, and together, they might be strong enough to break whatever magic had compelled Isadora to steal from Dalris.
It was just a matter of waiting for the sun to rise so Adriana could teleport, and while they waited, Isadora decided to find out more about what happened.
“Where is this Mathias? I'd like to ask him about last night, and thank him for saving me.”
“He left after bringing you out here to heal, and only stayed long enough to make sure it worked. I asked him to stay so you could speak with him, but he insisted on leaving and … well, I think he was right to go.”
“Why?”
Rubbing the back of her neck, Victoria admitted, “He's a vampire.”
Isadora's eyes widened, unsure she'd heard correctly. “What? A vampire saved my life?”
Knowing why she sounded so baffled, the draconian qualified, “Don't worry, Dalris has known Mathias for a long time, and he's trustworthy.”
Somehow, that seemed odd, and not just because she'd used the word trustworthy to describe a vampire. Instead, Isadora had known Dalris for nearly two centuries, and this was the first time she'd ever heard Mathias' name.
But the strangest part of all was that this vampire had saved her life instead of killing her.
Vampires were extremely dangerous to the fae, and not simply because they found fae blood irresistible. Fae also had no natural ability to sense the dead, allowing vampires to evade their perception and easily sneak up on them.
So it was hard to believe one would save her life, particularly without feeding on the blood she'd already shed, prompting the question, “He didn't taste my blood, did he?”
“No, he brought you directly here, then left. He even made a point of telling me that the temptation your blood presented was his biggest reason for leaving.”
Isadora frowned, uncertain she could believe it. Victoria was a trusted friend with sound judgment, but she had to point out, “It still bothers me. We both know vampires lose control around fae pretty easily, and he wouldn't have needed to bite me when I was already bleeding. So all it would've taken was a quick taste to track me, then he could've lied to you with the intentions of returning once I was alone.”
Victoria canted her head. “Do you think he would've been able to stop at a single taste?”
Sighing, she shrugged. “I don't know. It's just hard to imagine a vampire offering assistance without an ulterior motive. But I suppose time will tell if he has any plans to return.”
It was definitely a matter to keep in mind, though the issue was difficult to consider with all the other problems calling her attention. So she pushed it all aside—the sun would soon rise anyway, meaning she was safe for now—and returned her gaze to Victoria to ask, “What did we steal from the gallery, anyway?”
Taking several steps closer, she crouched five feet away from the invisible barrier and explained, “It was an antique bladed staff Dalris was gifted with for assisting a pack of werewolves in fighting off a faction of vampires. The werewolves found it among the vampire's valuables stored in one of their lairs, and let him keep it.”
That story sounded familiar, prompting Isadora to ask, “Wait, is that the staff made of gold and encrusted with several gems?”
“That's the one,” Victoria confirmed, “meaning the only people I can think of who might've wanted to take it are the vampires who originally owned it, but it makes no sense. Dalris obtained that staff decades ago, so why would they wait this long to come for it? And how the hell did they put two fae under magical control from the start?”
Isadora agreed, adding, “You'd also think a vampire would want to keep a fae for her blood, not send her after some antique, regardless of how priceless it is.”
“Right.” With that said, Victoria waved a hand and suggested, “Dalris may know more about the staff, something that would provide a clue, but he's in Ithelyon indefinitely, meaning it'll take time to get more information.”
“Why is he in Ithelyon?”
“Oh right, you don't know what happened last week.” With a smirk curving her lips, she admitted, “He found his mate, but before you ask, I haven't met her yet, so I don't know much aside from the fact that she's an elf, oddly enough.”
Despite Victoria's inability to provide details on the identity of his new elven mate, Isadora's jaw dropped in surprise for numerous reasons. Dalris had been looking for his mate for several centuries, so it was nice to hear he'd finally located someone who could make him happy.
Yet elves were forbidden from mating with draconians, so it was questionable how easily a relationship might form between them.
Regardless, Isadora would've started planning a celebration for her friend under normal circumstances, complete with a cake that said Congratz on the new mate! But there was still too much worry in the air to consider such things, her thoughts focused on Victoria when she changed the subject.
“Anyway, I also realized Mathias' departure was regrettable after learning what was stolen because there's a chance he knows more about that staff, too.”
“Why? Does he belong to the faction that owned it?”
“No, but he's very old, one of The Five, actually.”
“The Five?”
“Yes, the remaining five vampires created by the first.”
Isadora blinked in surprise. Mathias was turned by the first vampire? The thought begged the question, “How old is he?”
“Five thousand years.”
Instantly, her eyes widened, sputtering, “Five thousand?”
That was certainly a hard number to take in—she wasn't sure she'd ever met anyone so old. Of course, there were fae who rivaled his age, but not many, and they'd only lived so long because they'd chosen to remain in the wild instead of inte
racting with human society.
But Victoria was right—there was definitely a chance Mathias could identify the staff and help them determine who wanted it and why.
Before she could ask more, however, the sun crested above the skyline. With it, Adriana appeared, the radiant fae teleporting into the grove about ten feet away with a small group of people, including her mate, Bryant.
As for their companions, Isadora wasn't familiar with their names, but could sense they were also werewolves, one a tawny haired male the same height as Bryant, and the other a redheaded female with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
But instead of introducing them, Adriana gasped and crouched nearby without attempting to get too close due to the barrier.
There, she asked in concern, “Are you okay, Issy? Victoria called me last night and told me everything!”
“I'm fine,” Isadora confirmed, “but I'm worried about who entranced me, and how many of our sisters might still be under their control.”
Adriana's grim expression proved she was just as concerned. “So am I, and we need to make sure you're actually … well, you. So I brought Aislinn and Troy. She's a witch, and Troy's her mate and familiar. He's also Bryant's nephew, so we're all related in a way.”
“It still amuses me that I have a fae aunt,” Aislinn remarked with a smile while settling her bag in the grass nearby. Unzipping it, she looked over and inquired, “And you're Isadora, right?”
Nodding, she watched the redhead pull numerous spell components out in qualifying, “We're gonna try several methods of cleansing and breaking magical holds, which will be time consuming, but I don't think anyone's complaining.”
“I'm certainly not,” Isadora remarked, eager to be sure she was no longer under anyone's control—and the tools Aislinn produced from her bag definitely inspired confidence.
Among them were gemstones, herbs, a small cauldron, and a few athames, all of high quality, prompting her to admit, “I'm also wondering where you get your supplies.”
Flopping down onto the grass, Adriana qualified, “Aislinn owns an occult shop, and grows herbs at our estate's indoor garden. I don't even have to help, she's got a green thumb of her own.”
At her comment, Aislinn started the process of setting everything up with an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Adriana. So, shall we get this party started?”
“Please do,” Isadora urged—the sooner this was done, the sooner she could begin searching for her sisters.
It was just a matter of hoping no harm came to them in the meantime.
— FOUR —
Nightfall Offices, The Atlantan Spire
Atlanta, Georgia
“What do you mean you're returning to Sutrelle permanently?”
Mathias hated the distraught tone of his daughter's voice if only because her distress was so understandable. He'd barely spent any time with Maddox over the past two centuries, and didn't relish the thought of putting even more distance between them by returning to Sutrelle and remaining there.
Sadly, recent events made it necessary.
“I'm sorry, Sunshine, but it's best if I stayed to help with the trouble the people are having.”
Though that wasn't the entire truth, it also wasn't a lie, and he didn't hesitate to explain when Maddox inquired, “What trouble?”
“Environmental, mostly. It seems during my recent absence, the people have faced numerous droughts that are growing worse with time. So I want to focus on correcting the problem if possible.”
A thoughtful light formed in Maddox's golden eyes as if trying to formulate a solution, and he waited to see what she'd say. Still, it was likely she'd only try talking him out of his decision, and part of him hoped she'd succeed—not that the prospect of remaining in Sutrelle was distasteful.
As a human, Mathias believed the realm to be a paradise only the privileged could enter, but the truth wasn't quite so … florid. Instead, Sutrelle was another realm located in a fissure of time and space between worlds, attached to Terra but separate from it and only accessible via portal.
Ages ago, several such mystical doorways existed, allowing for easier travel between worlds. But after a time, some vampires began vying for control of Sutrelle, believing themselves superior to mortals, who were nothing more than a source of nourishment. This caused friction to build until a civil war broke out in which many perished—including all of Mathias' children and siblings.
Thankfully, those that had no wish to subjugate the mortal population prevailed, and The Five vowed to protect Sutrelle and keep it secret from that point forward.
So, as a protective measure, all but two of the natural portals were destroyed, and the last were contained within enchanted gateways that could only be opened by The Five and their direct descendants. But though Maddox qualified as a direct descendant, the differences in the flow of time between worlds made casual visits impossible.
For each day that passed in Sutrelle, three weeks went by in Terra, though such hadn't always been the case. When Mathias was younger, time had passed evenly in both worlds before a gradual lag became noticeable in Sutrelle that built with each passing year.
No one knew precisely why such changes were occurring, but with the environmental issues in play, some theorized the realm might be unstable—a worrisome thought.
But Maddox had some ideas on how everything might be fixed—though he already knew her suggestions wouldn't work.
“Couldn't you find a mage to help? Oh, what about Wesley? Perhaps he has a magic formula that would create more water.”
Before she'd finished her statement, Mathias was shaking his head. The mage she mentioned, Wesley Longfellow, was an accomplished alchemist who'd made his home in Sutrelle after a Terran faction of vampires forced him to research a method of immunizing them to poisonous draconian blood.
But Mathias didn't hesitate to explain, “Wesley has returned to Mystikkar, so that's not possible.”
Maddox frowned over the news, and he shared the sentiment. Though Mathias was absent from Sutrelle during most of Wesley's stay, he'd learned the alchemist had done substantial work to help the mortal residents with the water shortages. But though Wesley's talents would be sorely missed, it gave Mathias a good reason to return without mentioning his blood link to Isadora.
And he had no intentions of telling a single soul about the fae—not The Five, or even his own daughter.
Again, the thought baffled him. How could I have a lover's link to a fae? For a vampire, finding such a blood link was a fevered fantasy. Aside from the richness of their blood, fae were ethereally beautiful.
Yet even if blooding one was a possibility, it would only diminish what made her so desirable from the start, a fact Artair had proven in his attempts to turn fae. Mathias didn't know how many he'd killed trying, but his sire mentioned numerous times how the blood exchange had only lessened their appeal in a manner suggesting the fae had simply wasted away.
So this wasn't a prospect he had any hope of pursuing, and it wasn't the first time he'd ignored a potential connection, either. Losing those he'd blooded to war was just as devastating as losing a biological family member, and ever since, he'd taken precautions to avoid anyone with a blood link, unwilling to suffer another loss no matter how lonely he'd become.
The only exception was Maddox, a human he'd encountered in the seventeenth century with a charming flare for life. But after her human husband perished in a riding accident, she was left completely alone in the world.
So he'd chosen to turn her if only because he understood her loneliness—a loneliness he'd lived with for over three millennia.
Still, he'd be a fool to ignore the fact that this time, things were different. In the past, he'd only found blood links in mortals, making it easier to avoid developing a connection when they'd eventually pass away—not that he hadn't regretted it.
Isadora, however, would live forever as an eternal temptation, and removing himself from its path was the only viable solution.
> The thought was so irritating he snapped when Maddox insisted, “I still don't think Sutrelle's problems call for you to remain there permanently, Mathias. It would only—”
“Enough, Maddox. My mind is made up.”
The biting words earned a surprised, but curious gaze from his daughter, and she stepped toward him, coming within arm's reach to ask softly, “Are you okay? I've never seen you so … tense.”
Sighing in regret for his quick temper, he pulled her into a firm embrace with a vague answer.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap, and though I'm well, I can't say there aren't a multitude of things weighing on my mind.”
“What things?”
Fatigued by the mere thought of his troubles, he evaded the question by stating, “The sun will be up in an hour, so there's not enough time to explain, and besides, it's nothing for you to worry over.”
With that said, he stepped back to regard Maddox fondly, lifting a hand to sweep a tendril of her dark hair behind her ear. But though she wasn't the type to push if she didn't feel there was a pressing need, her lips pursed as if she didn't believe things were as simple as he was letting on.
So he added before she could speak, “I'm also finding it difficult to adapt to the technological advances in this world after our recent hibernation.”
Finally, her lips curled in amusement. “I can understand that much. It wasn't easy for me to adapt, either.”
The confession wasn't surprising—though it was difficult hearing those words coming out of her mouth. In 1943, they'd both taken shelter from sunlight in the same cemetery, and sometime during the day, a factional vampire named Lillian Deavlis had them locked inside their sarcophagi to ensure Maddox's silence over a recently discovered secret.
As a result, they were forced to hibernate for seventy years.
Hibernation was a practice only older vampires engaged in, and only when a trusted third party was available to wake them at a predetermined time—and even then, it was risky. The longer the vampire slept without fresh blood to sustain them, the more corpse-like their bodies became, leaving them vulnerable until someone fed them blood to restore their functions.
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