by D C Young
In the hair, they each tied a feather. Nothing else was in their hair which they brushed out and let flow in the wind. It was a total discarding of everything a tribes-person could have that was made by the colonizers.
The ghost shirt for the men was made of the same material worn with leggings dyed a bright, blood red. Some of the leggings were striped and the whole garment was fantastically sprinkled with figures of birds, bows and arrows, sun, moon, and stars, and everything they saw in nature.
Everyone’s face was painted red with a black half-moon on the forehead or on one cheek.
Sam turned her attention to Matthew Highridge, he seemed stunned and very confused but also bitter and resentful. He seemed to move from one set of emotions to the other and back again.
“He is convulsing inside the skin suit,” Lone Horn said, instinctively to answer Sam’s thoughts.
“what do you mean?”
“Wazeya is being forced to reveal himself by the ritual but he is clinging on to the facade of Matthew Highridge’s body.”
“Is this where we come in?”
“Yes,” he replied in a whisper. “Watch carefully. Be ready and wait for my signal.”
Just then, Black Buffalo began to sing. “Father, I come.”
Immediately, the others stopped marching, but remained in the circle. Then they turned to face Matthew Highridge and started the most fearful, heart-piercing wails Sam had ever heard. The men and women were crying, moaning, groaning, and shrieking out their grief. It was a collective of years of suffering and pain which they screamed out in remembrance of every departed friend and relative they had ever lost. At the same time, they took up handfuls of dust from around their feet, washing their hands in it, and throwing it over their heads.
As the dust settled, the silence was eerie. No one made so much as a whimper. All their eyes were fixed on Matthew. They shuffled about until every person stood directly behind another, each with his hands on his neighbor’s shoulders. Then they took to walking sideways as the braves outside the tent circle had been doing. This group walked in a clockwise direction.
Within minutes, the ground had been worked and was covered in flour-like dust that lay light and loose to the depth of two or three inches. The wind, which had increased, took it up, enveloping the dancers and hiding them from view.
Black Buffalo continued his chanted, to the monotonous tune of the drums.
Father, I come;
Mother, I come;
Brother, I come;
Father, give us back our arrows.
The tribe repeated the words over and over again moving faster and faster around the circle until the frenzy and energy came to a boil. There was a loud whooping sound and the beat of horse hooves and a brave came galloping between the tents towards the inner circle. The crowd parted letting him though. He wielded a cane of corn in his spear hand and carried a bow and quiver of arrows in the other. The tip of the corn stalk was dressed with an elaborate bunch of eagle’s feathers.
He rode straight past Black Buffalo and up to Matthew Highridge and as the chanting climaxed he hit the man in the chest, right over his heart with the feathered end of the corn cane.
Matthew fell instantly to the ground and Sam watched in awe as Wazeya exited the man’s body.
A dark shadow gathered on the ground underneath Matthew’s unconscious body and spread out much farther than a reasonable shadow would. When it was all out of its Matthew Highridge ‘skin suit’ the creature gathered itself together and began to rise to its feet. It looked like a huge ball of black emptiness at first but within a few seconds it began to take shape.
As scared as they must have been not one of the men or women present stopped their dancing or chanting. The frenzy of the ghost dance held its perfect intensity.
At full height, Wazeya must have stood about eight feet tall. It was a hunched over beast with hair like a coyote’s all over its body. Though its eyes and face seemed human, it had a snout of a wolf and its hands were the paws and claws of a wolf as well.
As soon as it was upright, the creature made a mad rush for Black Buffalo.
“It’s trying to silence him,” Lone Horn said. “Get ready, Sam.”
Sam focused on the beast as it went after the holy man.
“Now!” Lone Horn shouted.
Together they sprinted forwarded with the speed only vampires could possess. Sam raced around Wazeya, between his body and that of Black Buffalo and pulled the buffalo hide from the ground revealing a deep pit the people had dug days before.
As soon as it was uncovered, Lone horn blindsided the beast toppling it off its legs and straight into the pit. A loud, long howl erupted when Wazeya found himself impaled on a thousand sharpened stakes at the bottom.
Then there was nothing in the camp but silence. The dance was over. Everyone stopped where they were, bent down and picked up two handfuls of the dust they had created with the movement of their feet.
Sam and Lone Horn stood back, allowing them room to pass before the pit. Each through their handfuls of dust into the crevasse and walked out of the circle to the great hall at the rear of the encampment.
Chapter Ten
“Hey there, kiddo,” Sam said when Tammy answered the phone. ‘How’s it been going over there?”
“Everything’s fine here Mom. How have you been? Did you do it? Did you stop Wazeya?”
“We sure did, hun,” Sam replied softly. “We couldn’t have done it without your help, Tammy. I’m so proud of you. You saved a lot of lives today.”
“It’s not that serious, mom.”
“Oh, yes it was, hun. Yes, it was.”
There was a pause on the line as Tammy picked her next words. “Is everything going to be okay at Standing Rock now?”
“They’ve still got a long way to go in fixing this mess but I sure hope they can come to a compromise. The people here have suffered enough. They don’t have much more than this land, you’d think they could just be allowed to enjoy it in peace.”
“You would really think so,” Tammy agreed. “When you coming home, Mom?”
“I’ll be on the earliest flight out of Bismarck in the morning. You’ll be there when I get there?”
“Duh, of course. Like I have anywhere else I’d rather be!”
“See you tomorrow, kiddo.”
“See you tomorrow Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too, hun.”
***
“I am glad that you have come, Ishta,” Black Elk’s voice was the first indication Tammy had that she had been drawn into another vision. The moment she heard it, dread and grief, which had just begun to fade away since her last vision hit her once again, but with full force.
“No. Please, no. I can’t take any more of this,” she objected. “I am not Thorn Girl. I have no power to help you or anyone else. I cannot do this anymore.”
“Perhaps it is time that I tell you of things that you do not know once more,” Black Elk responded.
“More stories?” Tammy countered. “I’m sorry, but I am really not in the mood. My Mom might be in trouble out there on the reservation in North Dakota. I’m worried about her.”
“Your mother is a very strong person who is full of skill and values. She is a person of honor and integrity and she is surrounded by great men on this mission. Because of these things she will be victorious.”
“I still don’t want to hear anymore,” Tammy insisted.
Black Elk ignored her and begun his story anyway.
“They say that the Chosen Warrior of the Ancient One, Wakinyan, was powerful in his youth and grew more powerful as each season of the wind came and went. It was said that he was powerful enough to protect the Kaga from Wazeya, but that he could not defeat him.
“Just as he did when the Kaga were hungry, Wakinyan fought with Wazeya and kept him busy while the Kaga escaped and hid themselves or took buffalo from Wazeya’s herd.
“They say that as Wakinyan became stronger, he also became wiser a
nd it was this wisdom which brought him to trick Wazeya to fall into the pit where he was kept for thousands and thousands of seasons before white men set him free.
“What had never been known was the strength that would come to Wakinyan when innocent love added its power to the strength of the great warrior. You see, though the falcon appeared to be dead, the kisses and tears of the innocent Thorn Girl restored the heart of the warrior. He rose up from the tall grass of the meadow and charged at Wazeya.
“No crack of lightning and no report of thunder ever had the force of those two coming together. An old score was to be settled between them; a score which stretched back to the time when the Ancient One set the seasons of the winds.
“With mighty fury, the two great forces fought just as they had before, but the battle was not a long one. They do not know why it was, but it seemed that the harder Wazeya struck Wakinyan and the more frequently, the more powerful Wakinyan became. Some say that each blow Wakinyan took in defense of Thorn Girl was taken in love and loves power became stronger and stronger within his heart.
“The two did not battle for seasons as they had before. They battled only for hours before Wakinyan struck a final, fatal blow and Wazeya breathed his last.
“I suppose that what they said was true, Wakinyan could never defeat Wazeya; not by his own force, because they were equals, but none had ever taken love into consideration. It is a mysterious and powerful force.”
Black Elk finished his story and gazed into Tammy’s soul just as he had before.
“The falcon… Wakinyan, didn’t die?” Tammy asked, still not quite sure she had understood Black Elk correctly. The strange way that he told the story made it seem like it had taken place centuries before.
“Of course not,” Black Elk smiled.
“But how…” Tammy started to ask the question in spite of the fact that she already knew the answer. She broke it off from it and started another. “Thorn Girl’s love brought him back to life, then?”
“It was the love of the two coming together really, Ishta,” Black Elk replied with a twinkling smile in his ancient, dark eyes. “You see, when Wakinyan broke his promise and took Thorn Girl for himself, he was being selfish. It was because of his selfishness and his dishonesty that Thorn Girl rejected him. When he attacked Wazeya as a falcon, he had no chance of winning the battle but it was love which drove him to do all that he could to save his beloved…”
Catching onto where Black Elk was going with the story, Tammy joined in and took over. “When I kissed him… I mean, when Thorn Girl kissed him and shed tears over him, that was her love and the power of the two restored him.”
“Not only restored him, but made him stronger than he’d ever been before,” Black Elk added.
“So, did Thorn Girl and Wakinyan finally come together?” Tammy asked, hoping that the story had a happy ending which she could tuck away inside her heart.
“Perhaps,” Black Elk responded.
“Perhaps?” Tammy asked with a frown.
“That part of the story is not part of what is known.”
“What do you mean?”
“Thorn Girl is in you,” he answered.
“But I don’t get it. How can they be together and continue their love and…”
“Do not be alarmed, Ishta,” Black Elk interrupted. “There are things such as love which are a mystery. Even the old ones do not understand all of these things.”
“But if two people are in love, they have to be together, don’t they?”
“I don’t think that it is so, but perhaps it is,” Black Elk answered. “I suppose if it is so, then the two hearts will find a path to each other again. Perhaps one day, Ishta, you will know the answer to that, and then you can tell me of things that I do not know.”
Before Tammy could respond again, Black Elk was gone and she was back in the physical reality of the world where she, her friends and her family lived. Even though she did not understand what had happened to her, she was full of joy. Wakinyan was alive, she had had a part in making that happen and the destruction which had been a result of Wazeya running free had been stopped. With the joy was an ache, like she was missing someone very important to her.
Just then, the sweetest sound she could ever have heard came to Tammy’s ears. It was a car pulling into the driveway and the horn made the signature double hoot her Mom always gave when she was back from a work trip.
Tammy jumped up and ran to the window. She saw Sam opening the driver’s door and stepping from the car. Suddenly her heart was full, it was whole. It was who and what she had been missing all in one person.
She ran out of the room and rumbled down the steps, threw the front door open and ran launching herself into her mother’s arms.
“Hey there, kiddo. You okay?” Sam asked.
“I am now, Mom. I’m more than okay now!”
The End
The Chronicles of the Immortal Council returns in:
Vampire Regent
Return to the Table of Contents
VAMPIRE REGENT
The Chronicles of the Immortal Council #9
A Vampire for Hire story
by
D.C. Young
Foreward
by J.R. Rain
Hi there and welcome!
J.R. Rain here, and I’m so excited to introduce you to my “Vampire for Hire World”! As you might have guessed, these are written by writers other than me. Fair warning, these stories are non-canon (as in, unofficial) but they’re still a ton of fun. I’m excited to see the Samantha Moon world grow, and I’m equally excited to see all these wonderful writers exploring her world with me.
So, sit back and enjoy Vampire Regent!
—J.R.
Vampire Regent
Prologue
“I need to talk to the Detective,” Marie roared for the second time.
Julia winced at the volume and rage in her voice. Truth be told, she had never heard Marie raise her voice more than a handful of times in all the centuries they had traveled the world together. She had always boasted the constant even temperament that was the modes-operandi of every successful European monarch.
Recently however, Julia had noticed an uneasiness in de Guise's demeanor. She labored to carry herself with her unusual poise and grace; but there was something unsettling rising up in her old friend.
“I've already contacted Samantha for you, Marie,” Julia assured her in a soothing, hushed tone. “She is rather busy with some distressing family business but she promised to come as soon as she could.”
“Good, I want to know as soon as she arrives. I'll be in my room.”
Marie de Guise spun on her heels and went straight up the grand staircase of Elysium House. Shortly after her departure, Julia heard a door slam shut upstairs and could only shake her head.
Queens!
What's her problem?” Veronica asked, peeping around the corner into the hall. She was closely followed by Bjorn Ragnarsson; as was to be expected. The two had been inseparable ever since they'd joined the rest of the Council to face off against an evil doctor and his zombie army about three years before.
“She's just a little anxious about some news she got this morning. Turns out an old friend who she assumed had passed away a long time ago might actually be alive.”
“Sounds like good news to me. Dramatic, much?”
Julia shook her head, shrugged her shoulders and walked off in the direction of the living room. She would avoid divulging Marie's personal affairs to Veronica or other members of the household as much as she could.
She walked straight through the room, ignoring the others and the looks of curiosity they focused on her, and went out onto the balcony. The blaze of the evening sun was gone, giving way to the spectacular colors of dusk. The view made her sigh instinctively.
As Julia looked out over the city and watched the first lights twinkle to life, soon to illuminate the valley below, she hoped that Sam Moon would contact her sooner rather th
an later. The more time she had to think about the news Marie de Guise had received, the more she was convinced they had no time to lose on the matter at hand. Furthermore, Marie would not rest until Sam had dispensed her professional opinion on the issue.
She sighed again.
It was easy for her to put herself in Marie's shoes. In her own life, Julia had had many loves and suffered many losses. Hers had been a long life so far and she had been through it all a hundred times over. In her heart of hearts, Julia hoped it was true and that Marie's beloved Antoinette might still be alive.
A vampire; but alive nonetheless.
She continued to look out over the picturesque valley but her eyes saw nothing. Even as the pinks and golds of the waning sunset faded into the grays and blacks of nightfall, she stood like a flawless marble statue leaning against the stone balustrade.
“Julia?” a voice said softly.
She turned to see a bewildered Sam standing in the balcony doorway.
“Oh, Sam!” Julia cried, rushing to her with outstretched arms.
She hugged the detective tightly as if she hadn't seen her in years. Sam was quite taken aback. She had never seen Julia emotional before. The woman was always the perfect picture of propriety.
When she released Sam, Julia took a step back and smoothed her customary Greek style cotton gauze dress. She kept her eyes down and Sam could tell she was slightly embarrassed by her wanton display of sentiment.
Obviously, something had upset her greatly.