The Rhiannon Chronicles

by Maggie Shayne

  Ramses shrugged. Nikki frowned and said, “I would miss Christian most, I think. He plays with us. Roxy mostly tries to tell us what to do. She’s not as fun.”

  Her tone was matter-of-fact and emotionless. I looked at Roland, speaking mentally. It’s as if they don’t have empathy.

  How can they have? Raised in cages like animals. We’ll take it slowly.

  Gareth said, “I don’t think we’re supposed to hurt people who are our friends, are we?” He looked to Roland as if looking to a god, and reminding me that he’d probably heard our silent exchange.

  “No, Gareth. We’re not supposed to hurt people who are our friends. We’re not supposed to hurt people who’ve done us no harm. In fact, we are only permitted to hurt those who are trying to harm us. That’s a hard and fast rule among most of mankind, and all of vampire kind.”

  “It’s not a rule among our kind,” Ramses said.

  “Your kind are rather new,” I told him. “You’ve been raised under the control of others, so you haven’t had a chance to develop a set of rules by which you want to live. I would like for you to adopt ours for now, and as you grow, you can begin to think about your own. What you feel is right and what is wrong, and what rules you feel you want to live by.”

  “I already know what rules I want to live by,” Ramses said. “None. I want to do what I want, whenever I want, and in whatever way I want.”

  Roland stood up from his bale of hay, tall and proud, despite the missing leg. “For the most part, you can. We all do. The only limitations on our personal freedom come into play when our actions affect others. Do you understand?”

  “But I don’t care about others,” Ramses said.

  “You care about me, Ramses. Why else would you have come to try to help me?”

  “I didn’t want you to be kept in a cage.”

  “Why not?” Roland asked.

  “Because then you wouldn’t be with us anymore.” Ramses said it as if it should be obvious.

  “And why do you want me to be with you?” Roland pressed.

  Ramses frowned. Nikki, though, tilted her head and said, “Oh,” drawing the syllable out. “That’s what it is.”

  “That’s what it is, Nikki,” I said, getting up to go and stroke her hair. “When you care about someone, when you love someone, you feel hurt when you know they are hurting. You feel pain when you know they are in trouble. You feel compelled to help them, just the way the three of you felt compelled to help Roland. That’s what caring is. That’s what love is.”

  “That and so much more,” Roland said.

  Nikki was nodding slowly, and Gareth had moisture gathering in his eyes. Ramses, however, was still frowning.

  “So no more harming Roxy or Christian, or anyone who is our friend, all right?”

  Roland asked.

  “And no more putting yourselves in harm’s way for us,” I told them. “We’d rather die ourselves than see you put back into cages again.”

  “Well that doesn’t make any sense at all!” Nikki burst out.

  I knelt and pressed my palms to her cheeks. “Yes, it does little one. Yes, it does. That’s how much we love you.”

  Nikki frowned at me, and when I lowered my hands again, she looked left at Gareth, then right at Ramses.

  “If you would die for us, then maybe you would do something else for us,” she said.

  Ramses clamped a hand to her shoulder as if in warning. Nikki shrugged it off and glared at him briefly before swinging her big eyes right back to mine again.

  “There used to be four of us,” Nikki said. “I want to know what happened to our sister.”

  I met Roland’s eyes. He nodded. And I said, “Then we shall find out. What do you remember about her?”

  “Almost nothing. Sheena says it’s because we were only two years old when she went away. But I know she used to be with us. She had the most beautiful hair, all silvery white and soft. And she was smaller than the rest of us. Sheena remembers more. You can ask her when she gets here.”

  I lifted my brows. “When she gets here?”

  Nikki nodded. “She and Wolf are on their way. And they’re bringing someone with them.”

  * * *

  I didn’t think to doubt my little girl, so I was not surprised when, a half hour later, I sensed the nearness of the two seventeen-year-old Offspring we’d named Sheena and Wolf, along with the very weak energy of a vampiress I’d never known, probably the one Roland had mentioned, and a human, of all things! I hoped the two teens were not being marched here at the point of a DPI rifle. But if they were in trouble, Nikki and the boys would sense it. That much, they’d confided in me.

  I met the newcomers at the door, and I couldn’t help but embrace the teens. They both reacted in exactly the same manner, just stood stiff and awkward, neither returning my embrace, nor shying away from it.

  Stepping back I said, “I am so glad to see you. I feared the worst when you jumped overboard to go after Devlin.”

  Sheena said, “We didn’t know how hard it would be. But we survived.” Then she turned. “This is Emma’s father. Emma is the vampiress who was with Devlin back at The Sentinel. Her father was also a prisoner of DPI, that is why they were there. They also found a vampiress there, but I don’t think she will live.”

  I looked past her at the human man, who seemed exhausted. His face was damp with perspiration, a shock of thick dark hair stuck to his forehead, and his eyes were slightly unfocused.

  “Professor Oliver Benatar,” he said as I examined him.

  “I’m Rhiannon,” I told him. And I saw his eyes widen. He’d heard my name, then. “You look as if you’re about to drop, Professor. Give her to me.”

  “I’ve been telling him that all the way here,” Wolf said.

  “If I could just find a place where she could lie down.”

  Nodding, I led them all inside. The children came running to greet their older siblings, but there were no hugs, no tears. And yet I sensed their immense relief at being reunited. As they all talked at once, I led Professor Benatar to the small room off the right side of the barn. It held a large sink and there was a big area of bare floor where there had obviously once been some sort of contraption. Perhaps a tank to hold milk. I’d gathered from a large metal stanchion lying on the floor in the main part of the barn, that this had once been the home of a dairy.

  “This is perfect. Thank you.”

  “You’ll be safe here, Professor Benatar,” I told him. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about our kind, but—”

  “I have never believed the lies,” he said. Then he looked at the woman. “She was kept in a concrete box for I don’t know how long. Starved. Probably mad.”

  “I’ll draw some of my own blood to help heal her. Roland will as well.”

  I left them then, closing the door. Then I called to Sheena, “What about Devlin and his Emma?”

  “Devlin was shot in the leg,” she said. “They told us to come without them, and said they would join us soon.”

  My brows went up and I sensed Roland’s concern. Devlin had saved his life—twice now. “Are they in danger? How badly is he hurt?” he asked.

  “Emma said he would live,” Sheena told him. “And there was no one following us, so I think they will be all right.”

  “Good,” I said. “Good. Well it seems we have a bit of time then.” I took a seat on a bale of hay beside Roland and patted the next bale over. Sheena took my meaning and came to sit beside me. She was a beautiful girl, just blossoming into womanhood. Her skin was as dark as if she’d been raised in constant sunlight, but I knew that wasn’t the case, and I wondered about her parentage. Had DPI bred the children from the DNA of only one or two of their BDXers, or had they combined the genes of many? Her hair was dark and tended to be wild, but she carried a comb in the back pocket of her jeans. It was the only thing she carried, so clearly it was important to her.

  “Nikki has told me she would like to know what became of her sister. Will you
tell me what you remember about her?”

  Sheena shot a look at Wolf across the hay mountain. He shook his head as if in disgust. It was becoming clear to me that these children had, at some point in their captive lives, decided not to tell anyone anything about themselves for any reason. We still didn’t know the full extent of their powers. And when Nikki had asked me about her sister, Ramses had much the same reaction that the teenage Wolf was having now.

  When I brought my gaze back to Sheena’s again, I found her staring at me. And she said, “We barely understand our powers ourselves, you know,” she said softly.

  I blinked. “Were you...can you hear my thoughts?”

  “Not so much hear them. I feel them. We all do. Also, I can move things without touching them. But for a long time I thought everyone could. When we realized that we had...abilities that were different from the keepers, we decided never to tell them. And perhaps one day we would use our powers against them, to get free.”

  “That makes perfect sense, Sheena. In your position I’d have done much the same.”

  She nodded. “I no longer believe vampires are our enemies,” she said. “Wolf is more stubborn, but deep down, I think he knows it too.”

  I looked his way. He wasn’t missing a word, but he had joined the children atop the hay and was pretending to ignore us.

  “What can you tell us about Nikki’s sister?” I asked.

  “She was so different from the other three,” Sheena said. “She had pale skin. Violet eyes, sometimes pink if she was upset. She was smaller than the others. Very fragile. And her hair was even lighter than sunshine, and thin and soft.”

  Listening raptly, Roland covered my hand with his and squeezed. “What became of her?” I asked, my voice gone raspy.

  “She died. One day she just stopped moving and breathing. No more thoughts came from her mind. After a while, the keepers came and took her away. She was, as close as I can guess, two years old.”

  My heart broke for the lost child. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I wish I knew what made her die,” Sheena said. “Wolf and I were shot by those men Devlin calls Crows, with the weapons he calls rifles.” She pressed a hand to the center of her chest. “Right here. It hurt, and then it didn’t. There was just nothing. Devlin said he thought we were dead. Only, we woke up.”

  She looked up at Wolf and he met her eyes briefly, but even that small glance seemed to convey myriad feelings. There was a powerful connection between the two of them. I’d never seen siblings so close.

  “We do not know how we can die,” Sheena said, returning her attention to me. “We only know we can. And we only know that because of what happened to the little pale one.”

  Roland said, “Unless of course, she woke up too.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Devlin’s coming,” I said, rising all at once and rushing to the door, relieved that he was all right. Roland hopped to my side as I opened the door, and the sense of something else hit me like a foul odor.

  Devlin and the beautiful blond-haired Emma, so recently turned that I could still smell the humanity in her, approached us eagerly. Devlin glanced at Roland’s leg, and at the walking stick he held. Roland met his eyes and said, “Bastards stole my prosthetic.”

  “That’s pretty low, even for them,” Devlin said, clasping Roland’s shoulder affectionately. “I’m glad to see you, my friend.”

  “Not as glad as I was to see you in that prison,” Roland said. “That’s twice now you’ve saved my life.”

  “I heard they blew up The Anemone,” Devlin replied. “I’ve been sick to my soul ever since. Did everyone make it off the ship?”

  “They did,” Roland told him, but then he noticed what I had already been keenly aware of. The two tawny-maned strangers emerging from the wood, a male carrying a female. They looked not much older than our own Wolf and Sheena, but the way their kind aged, they could be that plus a century or two.

  “Lycan,” I said, curling my lip.

  The little blond vampiress Emma widened her brown eyes and said, “Lycan? You mean—”

  “Werewolves. Where on earth did you find them?”

  “We freed them when we freed Roland,” Emma said. “Tara’s been shot. I told them I thought you could help.”

  I glanced at Roland, because he’d had more experience with their kind than I. And he, being who he was, said, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  I squelched my objections and inclined my head. “Fine. Bring them inside, I’ll see what I can do.”

  They all trooped into the barn, but I had not thought to prepare Pandora. She came slinking down from the haystacks where she’d been watching over the children, emitting a low growl, her eyes on the male.

  Devlin’s new mate Emma seemed alarmed, and then the male lycan growled at my cat, the deep threat of a wolf. I considered tearing his head from his shoulders, but the girl in his arms said, “Tomas, no.”

  Pandora moved nearer. Roland put his hand on my shoulder when I would’ve intervened, and the girl extended her arm rather weakly. Pandora inched forward, sniffed her hand delicately, and then allowed the girl to touch her silken coat. Then she sat down, glancing at me as if to give her approval to the newcomers.

  I was still reserving judgement, myself. I’d never had much fondness for lycanthropes. They were wild and dirty things, living in the forests and embracing their animal nature as much as their humanity. Perhaps more.

  Then the girl’s arm fell limply, and I refocused on the matter at hand. “Lay her down here on the hay, quickly,” I said.

  The male, Tomas, obeyed, and then he stood too near, with Devlin and Emma crowding in as well. I examined the bullet wound in the girl’s abdomen. It was a neat round hole that pulsed blood with each heartbeat. And I had no idea what damage the bullet might have done to her internal organs. But I did know it was still inside her.

  “I can stop the bleeding,” I said. “But healing the wound is beyond even my abilities.”

  And then little Gareth shouldered his way in close to the girl, looked at her belly, and then up at me. And he said, “I can do it.”

  “Gareth, I don’t think–”

  What can it hurt to let the boy try? Roland asked me, speaking mentally. We have no idea what he’s capable of. Let him show us what he can do.

  “Your name is Gareth?” Tomas asked.

  My boy nodded. “Roland gave it to me.”

  “My grandfather’s name was Gareth,” he said.

  I met Roland’s eyes then, and I knew we were both thinking of the same thing. That time, that long, long ago time when he’d been human, just a boy himself. He’d come upon a younger boy being attacked by a wolf, and had saved the child’s life. The boy’s father, a knight named Sir Gareth, had taken young Roland as squire. He’d become almost like a part of their family.

  But the boy had never been the same. He’d been turned. He had become Lycan.

  Could this Tomas be a relative, a descendant?

  Our Gareth was standing close beside Tara by then, and he looked up at me and said, “You better move back. Sometimes you might get burned.”

  Burned? Fascinating. I took a step back and watched the seven-year-old hold his hands over the bullet wound as if he were performing Reiki. He closed his eyes. I watched intently, but nothing happened.

  Then he looked up suddenly and called, “Sheena, I need your help.”

  “What for?” Sheena asked, rising lazily from her spot on the hay, and brushing pieces of it from her clothes.

  “The bullet is inside her,” he said. “You can pull it out.”

  She sighed heavily but came to Gareth’s side all the same. Looking down at the girl’s abdomen, she said, “I cannot move it if I cannot see it.”

  “It’s right here,” Gareth told her, pointing. “About this deep.” He made space between his thumb and forefinger to illustrate. “Try to bring it out the same way it went in. And be careful.”

  Sheena nodded, and stared hard
at the girl, concentrating perhaps. Then she mimicked pinching the bullet between her thumb and forefinger, and moved her hand up the girl’s abdomen to the bullet hole. She pulled back, and the bullet emerged with a little gush of blood and lay there on Tara’s belly.

  “Perfect,” Gareth said. Then he held his hands over the wound and within a few seconds there was a glow emitting from his palms, and heat, and power that I recognized. The light was yellow orange, like sunlight, and the wound began to burn, sealing itself over. The stench was unpleasant, the pain must’ve been worse, as the girl moaned with it. But it healed. Right before our eyes.

  I looked at Roland and thought, Now we know Gareth’s special ability. He’s a healer.

  Roland beamed with pride. He clasped Gareth’s shoulders and said, “Well done, my boy. Very well done.”

  We all stood there, watching the patient to see how she would respond to the child’s efforts. Soon her breathing seemed to deepen, to regulate itself. It was an improvement from the shallow panting of earlier. And moments after that, she opened her eyes, looked right into Gareth’s and said, “I dreamed there was an angel.”

  “It was just me,” Gareth replied.

  I put my hand on Gareth’s shoulder, and said, “Child, why have you not tried to use this healing gift of yours on Roland’s wounded eye and throbbing head?”

  “It doesn’t work on vampires,” he said, as if it was something so obvious I should have known. And then he ran off to practice jumping and climbing with his siblings.

  * * *

  Roland sat with Devlin outside the barn, beneath the stars. They’d come out to surveil their surroundings and make sure they were still undiscovered. But that was only an excuse, truth be told, to get away from the others for a bit of man-to-man conversation.

  Roland had respect for Devlin. It had begun as a grudging respect, but it had become full blown and heartfelt. He’d seen, firsthand, what the man would do to care for his own kind. And while his dislike of mortals, even the Chosen, was consistent and unapologetic, he was a good man. Roland sensed that his hardest edges had been softened a bit, and he could guess why. The love of a good woman had a way of easing a man’s soul. And it was obvious that Devlin and Emma were in love quite completely.