The Scarlet Heron

by Sharilyn Skye

  After forging my two halves together with her blood, she took me. With forceful gentleness and bottomless need, she took me into her mouth, swallowing my long dead seed and shattering the fragile core of me into glass shards so that it could be remade again into something better. Something only for her. It was glorious and painful at the same time, that shifting of all I had thought to be true into what actually was. I worried for the both of us, for I knew she did not know what she had done. I also knew there was nothing I would not do for her. I would burn the world with the living flames of Faerie if she only hinted that she would enjoy roasting marshmallows in the fire. It is a dangerous thing, this love.

  Lara is a creature held together by will and control, even though it seems her life is a free for all, it is not. She vibrates like a tuning fork, ever on the edge of losing it. She keeps an iron grip on her emotions and all her actions derive from the fact that she is afraid of losing control.

  Tuffy once hypothesized that this stemmed from her parents death at a pivotal time her in her growth and development. He suggested that the reason she holds so tightly to the idea of control is that for many years, she had none. Even her marriage had been a way out of a bad situation over which she had no control and the death of her young husband had also been out of her control, causing her to dig in even more and try to control the fine minutiae of her life. I believe that, in her mind, taking me as she did, after gifting me with her blood was about control, taking control of her body after the physical attack by that human. What I am sure she did not understand in that moment where she had me at her will, was that she had given up all possibility of me ever letting her go. I could not have cared less if she were faerie, human, vampire, shapeshifter or any other vaguely humanoid creature on this plane or any other, she was mine. She would not control how I felt about her and I have the patience only the very old can claim. I understand the long game and am willing to play it to get what I want and I wanted her. Only her.

  Then in the way that is only Lara Hennessey’s, she ignored the fact that the dawn really did not take me that day, a sign for certain of the change in me, that she chose to disregard. She took me into town, a place I do not go without my security team and initiated me to The Target. She fussed, yelled, argued and gave me the stern looks of a nurse that keep me humble in all my dealings with her. Not caring, not sensing, not knowing that she had just remade a God. Ever unafraid. She bought personal care items and rolled her eyes at me as I put more and more things into her cart. I loved her more for it. She put me in my place. She would keep me sane and she would keep me in line. Only she had the power. She treated me like a regular person. An errant child. A difficult husband. A recalcitrant teenager. It makes me smile, even here. She stood between me and a teenaged fanboy like I might need protection. Me. Not him.

  A nurse is formidable creature in their own rite, never mind the faerie part, I have learned this. She was forged in the fires of humanity long before she discovered she was anything other than human and she did not let me forget it that day and I knew. I knew without a doubt that we needed each other and that we were unique in that no other soul would fit together like we do. Dark and light, always balanced, is a beautiful thing. Too much of either is not good. She is my balance and I believe I am hers.

  As my unease over her safety grew, I contacted one of my children when I had a moment alone. I spoke to Gregory about her and about her talents. He is a Master himself and in a powerful position, but he is loyal to me and could be trusted. I have worked many years to place those loyal to me in positions of power. The long lived can afford to the long game and the plans to come out had been in the works for a hundred years or more. It has taken that long. I placed my children, or those bound to me, in powerful positions all over the world, knowing the day would come when they would be needed. For the transition to be peaceful, this was necessary. Only they and I know of our relationship, for the most part, we kept the secret to avoid problems. My children understand the plan in place and we needed the transition to look peaceful and seamless to the world. Gregory is very strong, only a few hundred years younger than Grania and well groomed and trained to be in a position of power. They say the first child is a guinea pig upon which all mistakes fall, well I corrected the mistakes I made with Grania when I made Gregory. Should I fail to protect my House, or fall trying, he was the one powerful enough to look after those I care for. We keep in frequent contact and I can depend on him even now to try to resolve this issue. I often went to him when I was worried and I worried now. Worried that I would not be strong enough to hold all challengers at bay and I feared for Lara if something should happen to me. Not that she isn’t strong enough. Not that she doesn’t have the power and the bravery, but she is still untrained and very, very, young. In time she will rival the strength and power of any creature on this plane and perhaps many others. She needs to grow and be safe until then.

  He promised to offer her protection and a safe place, should she need it. He promised to present himself kindly and not forcefully. We spoke at length about her. I gave him enough information to win her to his side, but not so much as to entice him to fight for her. His House is large, almost as large as mine and he was the only other person I could trust.

  I chose to Turn him for his mind and his political prowess and it was a good choice. I have not always made good choices.

  I also spoke with Mikolosi, but I did not tell him much. He is bound by blood to do my will, even if he does it for his own perceived gain, I think he will protect her. My entire House would stand behind her and fight to keep her safe, should she need it. Under my current circumstances, I have to believe that. Every day I dream of a way to escape, for these are but humans. They come, drain my blood and go. They are not proficient in the ways of torture as the Fae are so I think that perhaps I can best one of them. However, they do not speak to me. They keep their heads down so that I cannot meet their eyes and compel them, do their job and leave, never allowing themselves to be within the reach of my fangs or my hands. Their Master must have educated them well. They are more afraid of her than of me and the chance to escape has not presented itself.

  I hang in my tomb, remembering all these things. I am to die here. I know it. I clothe myself in the memory of her, for that is all I have. I will go mad otherwise. If she comes, if anyone comes to retrieve me from this situation, I do not want to be unhinged. I can not be. For I might not be able to keep myself from killing the first person to release me from these chains. I know a thing or two about control. I was out of control for so long that I too, cling to it like armor and pride myself on how acutely I control myself and those in my charge. I fear that if I ever lose it again, I may not get it back and that is a road I do not wish to travel again. So I hold on for as long as I can while the humans drain me dry. For what purpose, I do not know. They place my blood in vials and stack the vials in boxes. I do know this though, I know to whom they belong and I know, too late, who is behind my betrayal and much of the troubles of late. If I make it out of this place, she will die a horrible, prolonged and painful death. I promise the Goddess her soul as I pray for Lara’s safety. I do not know how many sunrises have come while I hang here. My only thoughts are of staying sane and remembering why I need to. I have to keep fighting and so I will. I have suffered worse than this and survived, this is nothing to that. I continue my story.

  Chapter Nine

  When the humans took Lara to Baltimore and attempted to use her to get to me, I was a broken man. For I am a man at the very core of it. A Fae man, a vampire man, a man, the minute differences matter not. I felt responsible for her situation. It took everything in my power to not rush in there and kill every one of those murderous bastards, but I did not. I pulled in every marker I had and turned the tables on them, destroying their group and furthering my cause at the same time. Not Lara’s. I knew that I would save her, but I used her captivity to defeat a mutual enemy. I am a Monster at heart. That night, I saw real fear and disappo
intment in her face for the first time and something changed between us. I knew I did not deserve her and tried to separate myself from her. The only thing I accomplished was pushing her away and proving to us both that I was not worthy of her.

  I should have deduced who was behind the Baltimore City Vampire killings. Based on the evidence alone, I should have known that Jay had played a role in them. He was a whore to all of us and he loved it. He also hated it. What one cannot have, they hate, what one cannot be, they destroy. He was what Grania calls a Fuckboy, a groupie, who wanted desperately to be something more, but he was a joke to us as the morbidly desperate are. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have seen it sooner. I blamed myself even more for all that happened to Lara and to my people who lost their lives at the hands of Dr. Scott and Dr. Fisher.

  So I pushed her away and marginalized her. In trying to get my thoughts straight, I opened the door for what was to come. I built her a clinic and saw her daily, but talked to her as if she were an employee, not even a friend. She came to terms with that night in Baltimore, but I did not. She asked for more from me and I gave her nothing. Still she seemed happy and continued on about her days, learning her skills and helping Heal others. She rode her horses, worked in the clinic and cast sideways glances at me, willing me to see her, but I could not see past the nose on my face. I wanted to, but being a sanctimonious ass kept common sense at bay.

  I had meetings with the President and the Prime Minister, I met with the Secretary of State and the President of Mexico, where vampire-human relations were at an all time low. My schedule was nearly impossible to maintain. There were more groups planning to come out. The Lycanthropes were considering it, as were the Elves and witches, but there was a lot of fear that it was too soon after the vampires to be safe. While the United States suffered very little turmoil statistically, the same cannot be said for other countries. For the most part, those areas had calmed, but leaders from other supernatural groups grappled with the idea of riding on our coattails or waiting it out awhile longer. Plans within plans continued to be laid and I used all of them as excuses to stay away from her. I saw her, I saw her almost daily, either in person or from a distance. We worked together to build her clinic and to stock it with everything she might possibly need. There was nothing she asked for that I did not get. Had she wanted a CT scanner or a MRI machine, I would have bought them. Two of them and the technicians to run the damned things. As soon as the touches became light and the conversation personal, I left. I would make an excuse about this thing or the other and go. I knew she was becoming frustrated. I could feel it between us and it grew daily as brick upon brick, I built a wall

  I went on dates with others, men, women, I did not care. I did not have sex with them, but I did drink from them on occasion. I do not know why I did this. I think I was trying to prove to myself that I did not need her and that she was better off without me. It had struck me to the core that she had been taken against her will and used as bait to get to me. If this fringe group had picked up on her value so easily, what would stop other, more powerful groups from doing the same? I became paranoid. Even her attack by that human trash was my fault. Had he not found a vampire in her house, she might have walked away from him and never suffered rape at his hands. In my mind, I pushed her away in an attempt to save her, but my mind is a twisted thing and none of that may be true. Her attack may have happened anyway and I might not have been there to save her. That is a possibility I refused to see at the time.

  Then Jeremy happened, the sweet and charming boy that will someday play a very important part in my House, even more so than he already does, drowned in the neighbors pond and his brain died. Sarah had rushed him to Lara, begging and pleading that she try to do something, anything for her only child and Lara cradled him to her in the vice grip of her stubborn will and man handled his brain into coming back online. She did that. For one of my own. She pushed herself into a blackout to save him. Yes, he was a child and I would expect that she would do no less for another, but he was also of my House. When I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could save us both from the madness of this relationship, the sight of his muddy body crushed to her breast by her arms pushed me over the edge and I realized I could never be free of loving her, no matter what I tried. No matter that it would be better for both of us.

  I repaid her by sharing my bed with my daughter and her lover, I did not have sex with them, but that is a small insignificant detail in the grander scheme of that sordid night. I felt unease beforehand, I even recognized it for what it was, I also knew she would not approve, but I did it anyway because I needed to feed and Paul was my option that night and he feared me one on one. I am unsure as to whether I was trying to prove something to myself, my House or to Lara, but it was a disastrous decision. Perhaps I thought she would not find out, I do not know. She did though, of course because that is the way of it. The one time she used her key to come to me willingly, that was the sight she found. The three of us in various stages of undress, piled into bed together. Had I found the same sight, I would have scorched the earth with my anger, but instead, I blamed everyone but myself, even though I was the only one to blame.

  And then she left. She took her Guardian and left. She left me. She left my People and she left my House. I could not feel her through our bond. It was like she was gone. Dead. Ripped away from me and for the millionth time since I had met her, I knew true fear. It laced my thoughts and chilled my blood. I went mad with it.

  There was only one place she could go that I could not find her. She had gone home. She had gone to the place her parents had built for her, the net of their safety shrouded her from my mind and mine from hers. I thought about leaving her alone. She deserved peace. A life. Normalcy. But I could not let her go, I had tried that once and failed. My love for her was deep and my desire to do better deeper. I contacted my Southern Representative and found that he was looking for Lara as well. He had tried to contact me during the Baltimore Incident and had been unable. He explained that his wife had taken their sons and was planning on killing them if Lara could not heal them of their vampirism. I knew their relationship had been a long and good one. I doubted that Kimani would actually kill the boys, but I said that I would help anyway and offered every resource I had, including Lara. I made plans to join him in Charleston to help in any way I could, but in reality I just wanted to be closer to her even if I could not go to her myself.

  Chapter Ten

  That night Lara gave herself to another man. The strong emotions and pleasure she felt broke, through the protection that Pawley’s Island offered her and I felt her with him. All night. I could feel her joy and laughter, her thrill at his humanity. I felt everything he did to her and her reaction to those things. Her blood ran in my veins and it gave me unfettered access that I did not have when she had been with others before and it is a good thing, for they all would have died. No question. She felt so light and free, she gave herself to him wholeheartedly, like jumping in a cold lake on a summer day, she was all in, at least in that moment. I planned on killing him for that alone. Enraged and uncontrolled as I was, I planned his death to the smallest detail and found joy in those plans. Not hers. Only his. It was my fault, I had pushed her into it, most of me recognized this. I refused to build the relationship with her that I wanted and refused again, the one she offered, I had left her largely alone over the last few months and had acted selfishly more times than I could count. She enjoyed the attentions of a man, I knew this. I had watched her for months before introducing myself and lost count of the men she slept with. I had ignored her and still she slept with no one else. Not until I pushed her away one last time. It was my fault. Still, I was angry. She had promised me nothing and told me pointedly what she thought about love and relationships. I had no right to be angry, but I was furious anyway. I took my private plane to Charleston that same night. Airspeed and metal did nothing to protect me from the rush of pleasure she continued to feel from being in the arms of a human on
ce again. I wanted so badly to make his blood run in rivers upon the ground. I should have been angry with myself, but in those moments I could see only red. It was not the red of my House, but the red of his blood on my hands.

  Finally they slept and the emotional nightmare ended. I was never so grateful to have her absent from my mind. I could take no more of their lovemaking. I landed in Charleston and made my way to Samuel’s House where we planned together. My nerves being razor sharp and frail to the touch, I tucked myself into his guest room and slept with the dawn.

  Chapter Eleven

  Then Tuffy died and her heart well and truly broke. It shattered and her despair was like nothing I had ever felt in my life. It was horrible. It took my breath. It doubled me over. Her sorrow poured into me across our bond and I could not stop it. It woke me from my sleep only hours after dawn. It was the deepest sorrow and sharpest pain I had ever felt, like a thousand shards of glass splitting into the skin. More pain than my months of torture at the hands of skilled Faeries. More sorrow than when Elizabeth died. More than when my child died. It was the Greatest Sorrow Ever. That is all I can say about it. That she suffered that sorrow alone and still stood afterwards amazed me. She is ever amazing me with her strength. After the sorrow came the pain and I would have flayed the skin off my own body if I could have saved her from that pain. She had broken, in truth and it was irreparable. I could feel it. Pain, sorrow, self loathing, self hatred, anger and despair flowed freely though my bond with her and I almost wished the bond was no more. It was staggering to feel her emotions in such a raw state. She thought about killing herself. My brave, beautiful and fearless faerie wanted to die over the loss of her horse. For she did not know what he truly was. Tuffy was right, he was her one and only true love. Her only real passion. That saddened me more than I can say. Of all the things she has lost in her life, the loss of a horse was the thing that undid her.