by Karen Glista
“Hello.”
Torin closed his eyes, the sound of the man’s voice who he considered a brother all but bringing him to tears. He could all but see him, giant that he was, three hundred pounds of muscle and blood, curly blonde mane and baby blue eyes that falsely set men at ease, just before he broke them half.
“Any word?” Torin breathed.
“No, sorry, man, but you hold on. We’ll get her back. You’ll see.”
“Val, she’s pregnant,” he groaned, “pregnant and I can’t even touch her, or tell her how proud I am or how happy she makes me. It’s killing me man…eating me alive.”
“I know but you stay focused, brother.”
“Whew! I’ll try.”
“That’s my man.” Val said.
“So how is everyone there holding up?”
“We got hit last night but we held our own.”
“How’s Antonio?” Torin asked.
“As well as can be expected. He’s sleeping on the couch and watches over Anna constantly.”
“I’m not surprised,” Torin said, “there’s no stopping the heart. He really loves her.”
“Yeah, but unrequited love’s a real bitch.”
“I’m gonna go now,” Torin said, “but tell Antonio we have reinforcements coming.”
“Fucking A!” Val gushed.
“Yeah, prepare yourself. War is upon us.”
Torin ended the call strolling the corridors with a temperature of 116, an indication of starvation. Seeing a men’s restroom, he took to a stall, locked the door and rolled up his sleeve. Fangs inched from his lips, eyes squeezed tight to hide the glow. He bit into his upper arm, blood blasting the back of his throat. A feeling of relief washed over him and though he knew it was but a pseudo calm, he rocked his head, his gut sucking up the warm nourishment. He checked his temperature, 107 which was near the norm. He heard the call for his flight. He took his leave a bit more in control.
On board the jet, he took a window seat and with his face pressed to the cold glass, closed his eyes, concern for Donja overriding reality.
The landing in Vancouver, which was turbulent at best, forced him back to reality. He stood up, and got in line, a hard knot in his gut.
Damn! I must feed.
Exiting the jet, he wandered aimlessly, unable to shake his gut-wrenching need. Inside baggage claims he caught a scent which flared his nostrils. Moving among passengers, he spotted the source, all five feet two of her. He narrowed his predatory eyes into thin slits, scanning long dark curls trailing her back. He took a breath, the swish of her blood familiar. He eased closer and his eyes washed over her, head to toe, black pumps, a tight green mini with a black shoulder bag dangling at the waist. He fixated his gaze, taking in her body, so like another, one he had loved unselfishly. He took a step toward her, standing beside the carousel awaiting her luggage. He zeroed in, starvation forcing him to fight for human form. He moved, muscles tight, steadily in her direction, sniffing and scanning for Iridescents. She was alone. He swallowed hard, moved in and placed his hand on her shoulder.
She spun to face him, a stunning beauty with dark eyes cordoned by sweeping lashes.
“Larkspur,” he breathed, the swish of her blood pounding in his head.
“Torin,” she rasped, taking a step back, scanning the crowd.
“Put your fears to rest, I’m alone,” Torin said.
She swallowed hard as her submissive eyes came to rest upon his. They shared a look of some intensity.
“We need to talk,” Torin whispered, gently taking her arm. He ushered her to a vacant spot, just beyond the carousel where luggage was starting to appear.
“You’re aware of what Garret’s done, I can tell by your fear. I can smell it.”
Stoic, she dropped her head. “He had no choice and though I don’t totally agree with his actions, he’s just trying to save our son.”
“He’s out of control,” Torin said, pushing her into a shadowed, vacant corner, her back to the wall. “He could have come to us for help.”
“Where are your guards?” Torin asked.
A flush suffused her face. “One is getting the car; the two others are out for a smoke.”
“Then we better make this quick.”
“You’re shivering,” she said in a barely audible voice.
“Starving,” he breathed.
“Feed,” she said, offering her wrist, “it’s the least I can do.”
Torin met her gaze, such a disciplined consort, willing to offer nourishment. He cocked his head, fighting the pain radiating up from his gut.
So much like Anstosa, the blood, your eyes…your essence.
“Do it,” she whispered. “Regardless of your feelings toward me, you were family at one time and though my sister is dead and gone, I at least follow the guidelines of our kind.”
Torin bent his head and pulled her wrist to his trembling lips, twin fangs visible. With eyes squeezed tight, he fed then licked his lips as the heat from his body dissipated.
“I need answers,” he said, the sweet taste of her blood, so like the Rh-heme that had nourished him for sixty-one years, lingering.
She tilted her head, thick tresses spilling over her shoulder. “Before you ask the question?”
“Can we kill him?”
Her brows drew tight, her eyes wide as saucers. “Are you serious? Kill the Seventh Miigis?”
Torin lifted her chin with his finger. “He has brutally murdered and raped so many, fed on them for sport.”
Larkspur dropped her head.
“Look at me,” Torin sputtered.
She looked up, lashes fluttering like the wings of a butterfly.
“Donja is part of you, Larkspur, you’re both of the Durent Clan. You have lost sisters, cousins, the death toll is staggering.”
She tried to look away, but he grasped her chin and turned her back, face to face. “Have you forgotten your lineage?”
“Stop!”
“Do you have no heart?” he scowled.
“Yes!” she snapped bitterly. “I have a heart and I love my people almost as much as I hate you and yours for what you’ve done to us, but he’s my son.” Her hostility faded, washed by obvious pain. “My only son,” she whispered, moist eyes searching for answers. “What do you expect of me?”
“Compassion,” Torin said, releasing her arms, “not only for Donja and my unborn child, or the mothers and sisters of your clan who live in fear of birthing a female child,” he paused dragging a breath, “but for the families of the dead Chippewa females who now rot in Soo soil. Help us, please,” he whispered searching her face. “You know damn well that Anstosa made me promise with her dying breaths to fight this.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
Torin brushed her cheek, his finger glistening with her tears, the same tears he had wiped from Anstosa’s face so many times. He shuddered. “Help us fight this evil, Larkspur, if not for me, for your sister and I swear, though Garret is as good as dead, I will do all in my power to save your son.”
Larkspur tucked her hair behind her ears, her moist eyes sparkling. “Can you swear to me, as well as the Sky Gods of the Ojibwe…right now, on your child’s life, that you will help me save mine?”
Torin swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yes.”
Blood Reunion
As thousands of Russians, Germans, Swedes and even England’s finest descended upon the Michigan Soo, the house and grounds around Hampton Manor swelled to capacity. Tongues wagged, Old World Iridescents boasted and Siruns from the German Legion, the French and New World Council with Affiliates in tow, prepared for battle.
Anna and Larkspur, guarded by Val and six hulking figures took a stroll on the river path outside Hampton Manor.
“Does it feel good to be back on native ground?” Larkspur asked.
Anna took a moment with a thousand no’s echoing her mind. “I can’t really say,” she replied. “I’ve been so worried about Donja that I’m numb.”
&nbs
p; “Well it’s wonderful to meet a Durent relative.” Larkspur smiled. “I actually thought they were all dead.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Anna said, “but I must say, it seems rather strange to walk beside a member of my clan who was born hundreds of years ago. Tell me, were you taken at a young age?”
“Yes,” Larkspur said, “I was ripped from my mother’s arms at eleven, pregnant at twelve.”
“That’s why I ran,” Anna mumbled, “you must have been terrified.”
“Well to be honest, I was more afraid of being a mother at twelve than I was of Garret feeding on me like rabid dog.”
“You’ve been with him…Garret, a long time,” Anna said, “and quite frankly, I’m shocked that you’re willing to help us.”
“It’s the right thing to do and to be honest my only concern is my son.”
“I can understand that,” Anna whispered.
“Actually. I wanted to go back to the Yukon and try to sneak Donja out, but Torin said it was too dangerous and he’s right. Garret would catch Torin’s scent and believe me, he would kill me.”
“Torin’s scent, I don’t understand.”
“Torin fed on me at the airport.” Larkspur said.
“Why?”
“He was starving. Now, the numbing toxins from his fangs reside within me. It will be months before they fade, too late for the Red Queen, I’m afraid.”
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll take her place. I’m the Red Queen,” Anna said.
“It might not be that easy,” Larkspur said. “Scarface has an intense, unbridled lust for Donja. Since the day he laid eyes on her, he’s been lost. He may decide that he can have you as his consort, Donja as his Participant.”
“His cake and eat it too.” Anna sighed.
“I’m afraid so,” she said with a perk of her brow.
Anna shook her head. “I’m still a bit confused. If he kills the baby at birth and then takes possession of its corpse, wouldn’t he be a weak and defenseless newborn?”
“No. According to the Midewiwin’s, the mixing of the newborn descendant’s blood with his spiritual body will make him all powerful. His body will age within seconds to maturity.”
“And if by chance, the baby is born a female?” Anna asked.
Larkspur shook her head. “It wouldn’t matter, his desires would be the same, his insatiable lust crossing all sexual boundaries. He would have you, Donja as well, male or female.”
Anna shook her head. “This is getting so ugly.”
“More than you know. Look around you. These men think they can waltz in there and save Donja, but they have no idea what they’re walking into.”
“Have you warned them?”
“I’ve begged Antonio and Torin. I have given them the results of my research, but just like my husband, they shrug it off.”
“Research, of what kind?”
Larkspur exhaled. “The Fire Circle of our ancestors. I have read night and day, every book I can get my hands on. I have visited hundreds of Midewiwin’s, picking their minds, searching for a way to destroy the Seventh Miigis.”
“And is it possible?”
“Well, Torin and Antonio believe war is the answer, that brute force will drive the seventh from Zaroc and then they can kill him.”
“You don’t look convinced,” Anna mused.
“Let’s just say I think that they will fight their war tomorrow and lose miserably.”
Anna fixated her eyes upon the land which suddenly seemed possessed. A sickly feeling rose from gut, all but forcing a gag. She glanced to the overhead dome as dark rolling clouds blocked the sun. She closed her eyes.
Are the ancestral Midewiwins the answer?
From behind, hearing Antonio’s voice, Anna and Larkspur spun and watched as he approached them, completely stolid. “The Affiliates will be leaving shortly. I think it best the two of you get inside,” he rattled. “There’s a storm blowing in from Lake Superior.”
“So, you’re heading out to battle?” Larkspur queried.
“Yes, we’re sending the Affiliates to travel under cover of darkness. We’ll join them tomorrow.”
“I beg of you,” Larkspur breathed. “Do not engage the Seventh Miigis. He will decimate your forces.”
“She might be right,” Anna chimed in, “please just listen to her.”
Antonio exhaled, his eyes washing over Anna. “Just leave the battle to us, ladies. Now if you don’t mind, get inside, it’s not safe out here and it’s not just the storm that concerns me.”
Disclosure
In dawn’s early light, just as the sun embraced the shadowed horizon, Torin, Val, and Antonio, followed by Anna and Larkspur exited Hampton Manor. After hugging Lisa, Carson and Makayla on the steps, Anna who was guarded by four Affiliates manning long silver swords, was escorted toward sixteen Suburbans which lined the cobblestone drive. Her spiked boots tapped the embedded stones, passing one then another of the vehicles lined bumper to bumper like railed boxcars.
Her stride faltered and with her mind ravaged by disorganized thought, she stopped. She turned slowly and glanced back to the Manor. Winds whipped her hair, her face shadowed by towering spruce. He was there, she could sense it. She searched the shadows.
Where are you Frankie?
She saw movement and narrowed her gaze as he topped the ridgeline of the roof, then perched like a bird of prey.
Anna shivered. She tucked her hair behind her ears fully aware that he could see her, smell her, detect her heartbeat, there was nothing he did not know. A wretched moan escaped her, a naïve grandson taken and replaced by an Iridescent as powerful as fifty mortal men. Mournful, she dropped her head for in her mind’s eye, this would be their last encounter. A sudden light from atop the house illumed her face. She raised a hand to shield the glare. Her heartbeat intensified as Frankie rose to his feet, a lighthouse in the fog, guiding her home. “I love you, sweet boy,” she mumbled. She spun and with the iterative sound of her heels tapping, marched past Suburbans packed with Russian Affiliates. Hearing Lisa call her name, Anna turned and saw her running toward her. They hugged, pulled back and faced off. Anna immediately noticed her face, etched in concern. “I have to go, there’s no other way,” Anna whispered. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“I know but first, I had to tell you how much I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I’m terrified Anna.”
Anna swallowed hard searching for strength which suddenly seemed in short supply. “Just hold on daughter,” she said gripping her arm. “Hopefully it will all be over soon.”
“You’re so brave,” Lisa said as tears streaked her cheek.
“No,” Anna whispered, “I’m just as terrified.”
They hugged.
“Be careful,” Lisa admonished.
Anna hugged her again, then seeing the open door of an awaiting vehicle, hurried away.
~~~
Deep in the heart of the Yukon Territory, tired and weary, the convoy stopped in Whitehorse for gas. Antonio, who seemed to find any excuse possible to speak to Anna, leaned close in the back seat, intense eyes locked upon her face. “Did you know that Whitehorse is the capital of the Yukon Territory?”
“No,” she said, the nearness of his face pulling her in.
“It’s true,” he whispered, with an inviting smile, leaning even closer, so close in fact that she could feel his breaths on her cheek. “I think it was around 1953 that they designated it the capital. To be exact,” he said with an air of confidence, “that was after they moved the seat from Dawson following the completion of the Klondike highway. I watched the Alcan construction around 1942, beginning to end. They used dynamite to bring down mountains. Workers were lost in the raging rivers and pontoon boats sank on Lake Charlie. It was so cold that they had to keep the heavy equipment running twenty-four seven or the engines would freeze. I remember mud bogs from melted permafrost that sucked up and swallowed dozers, dump trucks.
I tell you, it was a sight to see.”
“Interesting,” she whispered, and it took all her willpower not to dive into the safety of his arms.
She clasped her hands, tightly. “Are you going to try and kill them both, Zaroc and the Seventh Miigis?”
“Why do ask?”
“Lisa told me that you threatened to kill Zaroc, an eye for an eye, did you not?”
“I was angry—no, that’s not true, I was hurting at the time, but to be honest, I have no beef with Zaroc, it’s the Miigis I want.”
“I’m terrified for Donja.
“I realize your misery, and it pains me. I’ve tried to keep your mind occupied with my Yukon tales,” he said, as a breath sighed from him. “Looks like I failed.”
“Is that what you were doing…how thoughtful?”
He raised his hand, stroking her cheek with a bent finger. Their eyes locked and time stood still. Finally, with an enchanting fantasy swirling between them and chills prickling her skin, Anna, feeling totally frustrated that he held such power over her, negated his gaze and dropped her eyes.
I should hate you, a thousand times over instead of having sweet…
“I’m sorry,” he whispered and like a dream catcher securing nightmares, he snared her thoughts, all of them. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it’s just that…that I still love you Anna, as much so if not more than the last time I saw you, clinging to your mother’s dress.”
Anna exhaled. “Antonio please, I’m just not ready, I need space...”
“How much space, Anna?” he whispered. “Tell me. How far do I have to go to make you understand that I want to make this work, that I need you and that I always have?”
“But there was nothing between us, Antonio, only your lust for blood.”
“Oh, but there was, and it was so much more than blood. I watched you, night and day, sat by your bed unnoticed as you slept. I counted your breaths, held your hand when nightmares took their toll. I was there that rainy day when the black bear chased you and your brother. I snapped its neck.”