The Black Rose Chronicles

by Linda Lael Miller

  Kristina knew she should call the police, but she couldn’t move, and her mind was doing peculiar things. One moment she would be cognizant, then she’d drift off into a dream. The hands of the clock over the stove had advanced significantly every time she looked at them, and finally the quality of the light began to change and soften. Gold became lavender, and then charcoal, then black. A cold wind blew in through the broken window over the sink, bringing flakes of snow with it.

  That was how Valerian found them when he arrived only moments after sunset, woman, wolf, and dead man.

  Muttering an expletive, Valerian rushed to Kristina and drew her into his arms. “What happened?” he demanded, and Kristina felt him trembling.

  “The—the brass monkey—” she managed to grind out. “He was here—Barabbas broke the window—I think he’s dead.”

  Valerian carried Kristina into the family room as tenderly as if she were a fragile child and laid her on the sofa. After covering her with his cloak, he rummaged through the liquor cabinet until he found a bottle of Grand Marnier. After pouring her a double dose and ordering her to drink it immediately, the vampire returned to the kitchen.

  She heard him speak softly to the wolf, but Valerian spared no word for the man whose blood covered the floor and cabinets.

  “He’s dead all right,” he said flatly upon returning to the family room.

  Barabbas followed, and Kristina noticed that the blood that had stained his coat and muzzle was gone. No doubt the kitchen had been Valerianized as well; the body had probably vanished already, along with all traces of the killing. This was not a matter any of them would want to explain to the police.

  “Please don’t say ‘I told you so,’” Kristina whispered, recalling how many times Valerian had warned her to use her magic with caution.

  He smiled and drew up a chair. “I won’t. Not until you’re over the worst of it, anyway.”

  “Did you—is he—?”

  “Yes, darling,” Valerian said gently. “He’s gone. And this time it will be forever.”

  Kristina was almost sick with relief. She held out a hand to Barabbas, and he came to her, licking her fingers affectionately. “Thank you, my friend,” she told the animal. “I don’t know how you knew I needed you, but your timing couldn’t have been better.”

  Barabbas made a whimpering sound and sank to his haunches.

  “And thank you,” she added, turning her gaze to Valerian.

  He blew her a kiss. “Don’t mention it. By the way, the Dimity-Gideon crisis has been resolved somewhat.” Sipping her Grand Marnier, Kristina was beginning to feel calmer. “Really? How?”

  “I’ll leave that tale for your mother to tell, since it was mostly her doing. She’ll be along shortly, I should guess. By now she’s probably sensed that you’ve had a near miss and are something the worse for wear.” He glanced at his watch, another affectation, or perhaps just a habit since, like all vampires, he always knew the time. “I must feed,” he said. “Unless you need me to hold your hand until Maeve arrives, I’ll send Barabbas home and take my leave.”

  “I’ll be all right,” Kristina said, and she knew it was true, despite all her problems.

  Valerian vanished, after planting a light kiss on the top of her head, without reclaiming his cloak. He hadn’t been gone more than a moment when the telephone rang.

  Kristina reached for the receiver of the cordless phone, which was lying on the lamp table at the end of the couch. “Hello?”

  “Kristina?” The voice on the other end of the line was Max’s, and even though he’d only spoken a single word, her name, she knew he was in a terrible state. “Oh, God, Kristina—I need your help. Bree and Eliette are missing!”

  80

  Max’s children were gone.

  Kristina’s personal ordeal was forgotten in the face of all that might mean. “What happened?” she whispered into the receiver, one hand raised to her throat. She held her breath, waiting for the answer, and could see Max shove a hand through his hair as clearly as if she’d been standing in the same room with him.

  “I picked them up from my parents’ house after work,” he said evenly. Kristina knew what a supreme effort it was for him to remain calm. “They were playing in their room. I phoned for a pizza, and when it was delivered, I called to the kids to come down to supper. They didn’t, so I went up to look for them. They were gone—nowhere in the house.”

  Kristina closed her eyes, agonized. “Have you called the police?”

  “Of course,” Max answered. He couldn’t be faulted for snapping a bit; he must have been frantic with fear. Kristina certainly was, and Bree and Eliette weren’t even her children. “They’re sending somebody over,” he finished, less abruptly.

  “What did they say on the phone—the police, I mean?”

  Max let out a long sigh, and in it Kristina heard frustration as well as terror. “That the girls are probably at a neighbor’s house or hiding somewhere. They asked if I was divorced—I guess the non-custodial parent is usually the culprit.”

  Kristina bit her lower lip. She felt a fluttering motion at her side and was relieved to see Dathan standing there, his brow furrowed as he eavesdropped.

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help, Max. This is my fault.”

  “We can argue about whose fault it is later,” he replied. “Just get over here, please—if I don’t find my kids, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “I’m going to find Bree and Eliette,” Kristina answered, meeting the warlock’s steady gaze.

  “But your magic—”

  “I have somebody to help me,” she said gently. “We’ll resolve this as soon as we can, Max—I promise. Just try not to panic.”

  Without speaking a word, Dathan took Kristina’s free hand while she hung up the receiver with the other.

  “Benecia and Canaan, I think,” Kristina said, answering Dathan’s unasked question. “God, I hope it’s not already too late!”

  Dathan tightened his hold on Kristina, and together they vanished.

  Kristina was breathless when, only moments later, they reassembled.

  She had expected a cavern far beneath the earth, like the one in the stories Valerian and Maeve had told her about the Brotherhood, the lost forefathers of all vampires. Or the inside of some elaborate tomb. Instead they were in a sunlit garden next to a cottage with a thatched roof and painted wooden shutters.

  Kristina glanced nervously at her future mate, confused. “Benecia and Canaan are here? But the light—”

  “An illusion, all of it,” the warlock said. “And quite probably a trap.”

  Benecia appeared in the open doorway of the charming cottage, a beatific smile on her face. “So,” she chimed, “you’ve come at last.” She was looking at Dathan, not Kristina, who might have been invisible for all the notice the vampire gave her.

  “Yes,” he replied, his tone absolutely expressionless. “Where are the Kilcarragh children?”

  Benecia gestured. “They’re inside. We’re having a tea party. Do come in and join us.”

  Kristina started toward the door, desperate to reach Bree and Eliette, gather them in her arms, protect and reassure them. Dathan stopped her by extending an arm, and though he said nothing, the sidelong glance he gave her was a stem one.

  He bowed at the waist—this grand gesture was, of course, directed at Benecia—and then walked toward the fairy-tale house and his hideous little hostess.

  “You’ve certainly taken your time to come courting,” Benecia said, pouting prettily. “Canaan said nothing would entice you, but I knew she was wrong.”

  “You must allow me to serve the tea in order to make up for being remiss,” Dathan said smoothly. His smile and manner were charming now; he would have made a fine actor.

  Benecia’s cornflower gaze found and acknowledged Kristina at last and lingered maliciously. “Why is she here?”

  “She wants the Kilcarragh children,” Dathan answered, standing close to the small vampire no
w, casting back a warning glance at Kristina. “That is the bargain, isn’t it, my sweet? I take you to wife, and you give us the little girls, unharmed.”

  “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

  “You don’t. That is one of the perils of entering into an affair of the heart.” He took her doll-like hand, bent, and kissed the knuckles. “No more arguments, my darling. We shall drink a toast to our future together.” With an elegant motion of one wrist, he conjured a golden goblet, probably medieval, studded with emeralds and rubies, diamonds and amethysts. It glittered in the false sunlight.

  Kristina did not want to obey Dathan’s unspoken edict that she stay where she was; every instinct compelled her to storm the bastions, to collect Bree and Eliette, to see for herself that they were all right.

  Max’s children, the children of her own heart. But she dared not move or speak.

  Benecia stepped daintily into the cottage, and Dathan followed.

  Kristina waited in anguish for something, anything, to happen.

  All that came from inside the cottage was an eerie silence.

  Then Bree and Eliette stepped out, holding hands and seemingly unharmed, although they appeared to be sleepwalking. They looked blindly in Kristina’s direction, plainly not seeing her.

  All the same Kristina held her arms out, and they came to her, slowly, and with bewilderment, still entranced. She sank to her knees in the sweet, imaginary grass and gathered them close, terrified that it was too late, that Benecia and Canaan had already done irreparable damage, had begun the process of possession.

  Kristina clutched the speechless children more tightly, weeping now. She would never, never forgive herself if they did not recover. If their souls had been stolen, the blame was hers to bear, for all of time and eternity.

  The scene around them was chillingly idyllic, almost cartoonlike, with twittering birds, a fresh breeze, apple trees blossoming pink and white in a nearby orchard. A butterfly with kaleidoscope wings fluttered past, and the sky was china blue and cloudless.

  A perfect spring day in a place that did not exist.

  “Bree? Eliette?” Kristina spoke softly to the little girls, holding one in the curve of each arm. They were wearing jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers—their after-school clothes, no doubt. Their eyes were absolutely blank, and although they did not resist Kristina’s embrace, they didn’t cling to her, either.

  Suddenly a terrible shriek pierced the air, coming from inside the cottage. It was immediately followed by another. Then, silence again, more frightening in some peculiar way than the screams had been.

  Kristina stiffened, but if either Bree or Eliette had heard, they gave no sign of it, but simply stood unmoving against her sides, staring at nothing.

  Dathan came outside again, pausing to close the door tidily behind him. His smile bordered on cocky as he met Kristina’s gaze; he dusted his hands together, in the time-honored gesture of a job not only completed, but well done. And despite the profound relief she felt, there was also remorse.

  He had destroyed Benecia and Canaan, as promised, and that had been a service to mortals and monsters alike. All the same, they had once been children, those horrid little beasts; it was a matter for sorrow, their perishing, though in all truth they’d died long ago.

  The warlock came to stand over Kristina, gesturing with one graceful hand toward the cottage. There was no sign of the jeweled chalice he had produced at the doorstep, before stepping inside to work his cruel mercies.

  “Go and see for yourself, Kristina. The vow I made to you is now kept.”

  Kristina did not want to see, did not want to leave Bree and Eliette for even a moment, but she knew she must go and look upon her dead enemies with her own eyes. If she did not, she would wonder, through all that might remain of her life, if they were truly gone.

  Kristina nodded and got to her feet.

  “Bree and Eliette—?”

  Dathan looked fondly upon Max’s children. “They believe they are dreaming.”

  “They won’t remember?”

  He sighed. “Subconsciously they will know that something weird happened to them. With proper love and care, however, they’ll overcome any remaining trauma. The loss of their mother was far worse.”

  Kristina’s eyes filled as she looked down at these two precious, innocent children. They’d been through so much in their short lives, and she was sick with the knowledge that they would never have encountered Benecia and Canaan, if not for her.

  Once again, Dathan read Kristina’s thoughts. “You saved them,” he said gently. His hand rested lightly on the small of her back, urging her toward the cottage, which was even then shifting, blurring at the edges. “Bree and Eliette will be safe with me. Go inside, Kristina. Let it be over at long last.”

  She walked reluctantly forward, through the swinging gate, up the walk, onto the step. After drawing a deep breath and releasing it very slowly, Kristina pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  The cottage was furnished like a playhouse, with everything to scale. A table had been set with miniature china dishes and a silver tea service. Benecia and Canaan, ludicrous shapes of pulp and powdery ash, slumped in two of the four tiny chairs.

  Dathan’s chalice stood between them, with one drop of shimmering warlock’s blood still glistening on the brim. It seemed unlikely, given their great age, that they had been tricked into drinking what was, for a vampire, the most potent hemlock. No, Kristina thought sadly, they’d known what they were doing.

  Benecia had wanted, even yearned for, oblivion and peace.

  Canaan had no doubt followed her sister into the darkness voluntarily, preferring death to eternal solitude.

  Kristina turned and left the cottage.

  Dathan, Bree, and Eliette waited in the dooryard. The great warlock held one child in each arm, their heads resting upon his shoulders, sound asleep. For a moment Kristina was reminded of Valerian and the vast tenderness he showed for his adopted son, Esteban.

  “Stand very close,” Dathan said, his eyes soft and somehow sad as he surveyed Kristina.

  She nodded and stood with her chest pressed to his, her arms around his neck.

  In an instant they were all in Max’s house, in the room Bree and Eliette shared.

  Dathan stood behind Kristina, holding her in a loose embrace, and she knew he had somehow rendered them both invisible.

  Bree and Eliette, meanwhile, were suddenly animated again, sitting on the floor between their two beds, as if nothing had happened, putting two Barbie dolls through a spirited argument.

  “Hey!” Max yelled from downstairs. “The pizza’s here. And don’t forget to wash your hands!”

  With shrieks of pure joy, Bree and Eliette abandoned the dolls and bounded out of the room. A tear slipped down Kristina’s cheek as she listened to their footsteps on the rear stairway.

  “You turned the clock back an hour or so,” Kristina said, turning to look up into the splendid face of the warlock. How she wished she could love him, but it was Max she cared for, and Max alone.

  Dathan shrugged. “I thought it would be better this way.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Dathan,” she whispered.

  He laid his hands to her shoulders and kissed her, ever so lightly, on the lips. Then, in the next breath, she found herself standing in the middle of her own family room in Seattle. There was no sign of the warlock.

  The telephone rang again, suddenly, shrilly, startling Kristina out of her daze. Her hand trembled as she reached for the receiver.

  “Hi,” Max said.

  Kristina held her breath, and her heart swelled like an overfilled balloon, ready to burst. “Hi,” she replied.

  “Look, I know you and I didn’t exactly part on the best of terms this morning—”

  Kristina closed her eyes, even more grateful than before for Dathan’s magic. The kidnapping hadn’t happened, as far as Max and the girls were concerned, and he need never know about her encounter with Billy Lasser. “It’
s okay,” she said. They’d made love over and over the night before, at the mountain cabin, and that would sustain her. “Saying good-bye is never easy.”

  “No.” His voice was gruff. Kristina loved him so much that she very nearly couldn’t bear it. “We’ve got a lot of pizza over here,” he said. “How about joining us for supper?”

  Kristina was an emotional wreck, after all she’d been through, and as much as she loved Max and the children, she needed to eat something, take a hot bath, crawl into bed, and sleep. She simply could not spend an evening with the three people she considered to be her family, knowing she was fated to spend the rest of her life as Dathan’s mate.

  “I can’t, Max,” she said softly. “Please understand.”

  “I do,” he replied, just as softly. There was no sarcasm in his voice.

  She sighed and pushed a hand through her hair, the way she’d seen Max do a hundred times. “There are a couple of things I need to say,” she told him. “I love you. And you don’t have to worry anymore, because you and the girls are safe.”

  “Kristina—”

  “That’s the end of it, Max,” she broke in, her eyes burning again. “Good-bye.” With that, she hung up.

  The phone rang again immediately, but she ignored the sound until it stopped.

  It was the middle of the night when Kristina awakened, sensing that someone was standing at the foot of her bed. She opened her eyes, mildly alarmed, to find her mother there, looking like a vision in her flowing gown and cascading ebony hair.

  Maeve smiled. “Hello, darling,” she said.

  Kristina sat up. “Is everything all right?”

  “I came to ask you the same question. Valerian told me about the incident with that brass monkey of yours.” Kristina shivered at the memory. “Fortunately that’s over. Thanks to Barabbas.” She remembered something else Valerian had said. “I hear Dimity and Gideon have been found.”

  Maeve took a seat on the edge of Kristina’s bed, smoothed her hair back from her forehead with a gentle motion of one cool hand, the way she’d done when Kristina was small. “After a fashion, yes,” she said. “Dimity found her way into a parallel dimension, where she can live as a woman instead of a vampire.”