by Harold Wall
"We really are glad to have you back," Rowan whispered in my ear, although I was sure the other vampires, with their heightened hearing, also heard. The wave of relief that
overcame me was overwhelming. Up until this point, I hadn't realised just how much I'd needed to hear that. Especially from Rowan. Out of all of the sisters, she was the one who
seemed the most motherly, the one with the most authority and the most wisdom. I'd been happy when Jade had accepted me back, but Jade forgave everyone, despite what she
was, she was just so innocent. I'd almost felt like her love and forgiveness was given too easily. Acceptance from Rowan was something completely different, no more important,
but more fulfilling.
"Me too," I whispered back, and was shocked to feel just how true it was. It had been my decision to pull away from them all, to close myself off, just like it had been my decision
to send Ash away. It turned out I wasn't too good at making big decisions, but with Ash I knew I'd done the right thing, no matter how painful it'd been. But leaving the sisters had
been my biggest mistake ever. I'd thought I couldn't be around them, interact with them because they reminded me too much of Ash, but maybe, just maybe that was exactly what
I needed. People who I could rely on no matter what, people who understood the hard time I was going through. I'd thought I needed to be alone to take my mind off of my absent
soul mate, but all I needed was to be with people who cared about me.
Severing all my ties to Ash had only made things harder, lonelier. I discovered I needed all of the things I'd tried to escape. The things that made me think of him, that although
they reminded me he wasn't here, they also reminded me of just how much I loved him.
Pulling away from Rowan, I looked at the last remaining sister. Her golden hair was wild and her eyes were a liquid silver that made me think she'd just come back from a hunt.
Out of all of the sisters, Kestrel was the one who most reminded me of Ash, with her snarky and unpredictable nature. It made her remarkable, but it also made her dangerous.
I smiled weakly at her. Her gaze remained on me, steady and unwavering, but unlike the other two girls, her eyes were not filled with warmth and forgiveness, they were hard. I
swallowed a lump in my throat, as I felt everyone's eyes on us. "So," I began, taking a nervous step forward. She raised her eyebrows in an unimpressed manner. I stopped in my
tracks, raising my hand in a halfhearted wave. "Hey, Kestrel. It's been a while."
"MaryLynnette," she said stiffly, her posture rigid. "It's good to see you." Somehow I seriously doubted she meant that. Everything about her made me think she thought just the
opposite. My heart plummeted; perhaps I was stupid to think that I would be accepted back into their ranks without fault.
"Yeah, you too," I said softly, but Kestrel had already turned her back on me, disappearing into the house. I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. Disappointment
spread through me. When I'd left the house this morning I'd been worried about coming here, afraid of the memories I'd be bombarded with. But never had I thought the most
troublesome thing about my visit would be a sulky vampire.
"Why don't we all go inside," Rowan said cheerfully, ushering us through the open door. Jade walked a head in her graceful stride, dragging Mark by the hand after her. He had that
look of complete adoration on his face as he let her lead him through to the living room. I only felt a small spark of jealousy as I watched them, but couldn't linger on it for too
long. I was glad that Mark had found someone to be with, and was even more pleased that it was someone as gentle as Jade. They seemed to fit together like two pieces of a
puzzle, and I couldn't help but wonder if that's what people thought when they saw Ash and me together.
"She'll come around you know," Rowan said from behind me, making me jump. I'd almost forgotten she was there. "Just give her time." I nodded my head in agreement, but
somehow I wasn't so sure Kestrel would let this go so easily. I didn't know why she'd taken badly to my reappearing. Was it because I'd offended her by leaving? Out of all the
sisters I would think she'd be the one least affected by my departure. Or was she just pissed that I'd come back again? Maybe she'd liked not having me around.
"How is the girl doing?" Hunter didn't turn around as he spoke to one of his many spies. The man, Traces, was sufficiently terrified of the former head of the Night World without the
need for paralyzing glares.
"She is suspended for the last two weeks of school and she must see a psychiatrist for the summer. Last week she locked two girls in the janitor's closet for bumping into her."
"Two weeks? A psychiatrist?" The redheaded vampire smiled slightly while his eyes stayed on the dancing fire before him. Locking people in a closet didn't seem like much.
"She forgot to tell anybody…they were locked in the closet for two days. It was in the basement, you see."
Traces appeared to be amused by the information as well and Hunter, being the selfish creature he was, disliked seeing others enjoy themselves. The man was becoming annoying
fast. He sighed. "Leave."
He never heard a sound as he left. That was a good sign; his spies could only be heard or seen when they wanted it so. Without nothing else to do, Hunter sat at his desk. As he did
so, he looked up to find Lily standing before him.
In truth, he despised the girl. She was too ambitious, secretly wanting his place as head of the vampires. Technically, his former place. One couldn't hold office if others believed
him dead. It was a general rule. Ha, not while he was up and kicking.
"Why don't we kill her? Those Daybreak imbeciles have already drawn three wild powers to their side. Why should a human be different? We will not win unless there is less than
three, but your insane and idiotic orders are stopping that."
Hunter was half listening, for the growing fury brought Lily to the shocking resemblance of a snorting, twitching hell cat. But then her continuing ranting brought the image of an
angry hen. Vampire, and yet so much like those filthy shifters.
"What? Do you think the girl will be willing to join the 'bad guys?' Face it Redfern, the humans seem to cheer for the good, honest team, as do the Wild Powers." Damn her.
Honestly, can't a man dream? Hunter's only solace was the fact she couldn't quite glare with out the pains of the two scars on her cheek.
He would have to thank Jezebel when he finally killed her.
"It's simple, really," he began in a chiding, mature voice that caused his daughter's glare to deepen. "I have a plan. A genius, incredibly complicated and intricate plan that I am
unable to tell you because... well I just don't like you. And as informative as your rant was, it was also somewhat out of line. Out in left field as they say. I found her,
her life accordingly. You have done nothing except watch. Watch," he emphasized with malicious smile. Oh of course she hadn't just watched. One of the many things that
woman before him was an accusation of incompetence. By the look of the servants, spies, and hunters who failed at their tasks...yes the woman was efficient in her duties.
"If this all fails and the daybreakers are left standing, and I am sure they will, I believe that a stake look fitting in your heart. Your failure will bring most of the Council members to
unanimously agree with me."
"It would be the first time," he replied smoothly. "Though I'm sure one member introduced the idea that you have a painful—yet unfortunately not deadly—stick up your ass. And no
one was inclined to say otherwise."
"You're impossible," she hissed, ignoring his immaturity. Then she stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard one of the decorative furnishings fell of the wall with a
disappointing
crack.
Lily Redfern was bitchy, delusional, and entirely over ambitious—all of which Hunter attributed to her mother. The only trait that Hunter was ready to admit passing along to his
daughter was her talent of destroying. With a childish frown, he set about repairing his mounted singing bass.
Those who believed the beautiful were born lucky were…well, just plain dumb asses. Since she was fourteen, the fourth Wild Power believed bad luck targeted the so called better
looking.
Maria Yolken stared silently at the family she dined with. Both her parents had blond hair, and already her younger brother's brown hair lightening. All had sickeningly pale skin.
you are amazingly dark, she thought to herself. All right, so "dark" was an exaggeration, but there was a noticeable, singular tan. The only similarity she shared with the family was
her slender build and lack of height.
No doubt there was a Barbie somewhere, feeling very out of place as she ice fished with her family of Eskimos.
It unnerved them when she stared. I'll have to stop, she thought. "So," she began with the pretense of friendliness, "…am I adopted?"
"Oh for heaven's sake, Mari." Mrs. Yolken set down her fork, exasperated. "You've asked a thousand times. And I'm going to tell you again, no. As much as you wish it, no. You
came from my womb just like your brother." Her mother. Honest to goodness, Maria loved her, but less so when the woman spouted words like "womb" right before dessert. Even
the rest of her family cringed, though they knew they were lucky that the doctor hadn't said "uterus."
Mimicking her tone, the girl replied, "And for hell's sake mother it's bad to lie to your own daughter." She used air quotes around the last word that made her father choke with
laughter. Now, she thought, there's a man I could not possibly be related too. He is really nice and fair and a great guy. Maybe my mother had an affair.
"Now if any one's adopted it's got to be Robby here. After all you're normal, I'm normal, your mother's normal. But Robby's a freak." She couldn't help but smile at her "father's"
comment. If any body was any body, she was the freak. Too competitive, too angry, and too impulsive. Like Kelly and Tally last week. It was really their fault they got her so angry
to lock them in a closet. And anybody with the name Tally deserved some confining punishment. "What had come over you?" her mother asked when she received the call about the
little mishap.
"It's time you told her mom," Rob added solemnly, blue eyes twinkling. With an expression shockingly solemn for one so young, Rob turned to his elder sister and said dramatically,
"You're the love child of Julio Iglesias."
"Robby!" Mrs. Yolken scolded while her father laughed and sang, "Starry, starry night…" Maria was ready to let her younger sibling feel the full force of her thrown bread roll before Mrs. Yolken caught her arm.
"Well, I think it's time for the check," her mother interrupted the song brightly, awkwardly sidestepping the rain cloud in their sunny meal. Maria tended to cause many of those.
"Excuse me?" A waiter came as Mrs. Yolken summoned the bill. The young girl observed him, for she liked to know what was around her and what were they doing. She yawned,
bored, and propped her elbow on the table, waiting to leave the restaurant.
In hindsight, Maria could remember the night perfectly. Every detail, every piece of broken glass, every burn in the carpet. She always remembered things, but that night she
wished she could forget. And the screams. Robby had shrieked so loud, he was just so frightened…as was her mother. Mari had brought Robby to the hallway, where it met the
living room. Mom was on the other side of the flames but she was so brave. So brave. Mom, her mom, ran through, ran straight through the flames. Mari cheered wildly…
Until her mother came and grabbed Robby's hand.
And then she carried him through a gap through the end of the living room that Mari didn't see. She didn't turn to her, and though that could be excused for panic, she felt
something else.
It was because she was fourteen, and Mrs. Yolken knew she could follow on her own, Maria would later tell herself.
"Mommy!" she had yelled. And Mrs. Yolken paused for a moment, but continued in her sprint. "Mom!"
Surely, she hadn't heard. Maria frowned, not understanding, as she stared at them. Her mother would have stopped and turned back for her daughter, if she had heard her
desperate cry. She wouldn't have simply left her…
"Don't leave me here!" she wanted to shout, and yet the words came out an anguished, embarrassed whisper. The kind of humiliation one associated when asking a stranger for
help. Somehow, Maria felt awkward asking her mother to come back for her; as if, perhaps, Mrs. Yolken shouldn't feel obligated to aid the young girl…
But that was wrong. Carol Yolken was loving, and good, and brave, and she would not leave her daughter.
Her mother had saved her child without event thinking about the stranger.
Mari hated remembering this part. She stood at the same spot dumbly and then tried to run to the gap, but it was already engulfed by flames. Through the roaring fire feet away
from her she saw the hazy figures of mom and Robby.
She could have said there was no way out that way, could have said that that side of the house was going to be burned the worst considering all flammable things were in the
garage, the way she supposed her mother wanted to go. As if bidding her command, the flames were already following them.
Instead she stood there silently as the diminishing shadows ran towards the garage stairs. Her father was dead, she learned from the police later it was caused by inhaling the
smoke. Mari guessed her mother saw the spreading fire toward the truckload of chemicals and jumped out the window. A four story jump to either the azaleas or the drive way. And
her mother would have hated to have the azaleas damaged.
Mari walked calmly to the window in her room and climbed down the drain pipe.
"Nobody would have survived that jump, miss. Even if they had they would have probably been disabled, mentally and or physically." Mari didn't notice the kind, sympathetic smile
from the older man's face. She just wore the same cold, unemotional look when they told her it had been an electrical fire. The same dead emptiness in her eyes that her half aunt
saw when she moved from her house to a northern part of Georgia.
On the day of her family's funeral, many understood why she didn't talk, greet, or even move. They left her in the church pew as she stared at the three closed coffins. They threw
sympathetic looks at the reception when she sat in a foldable chair with a plate of food in her lap that her aunt had given her. She sat there, watching with unmoving eyes as these
friends shared stories of her late kind mother, her dead adorable brother, her deceased funny father. The food, along with everything else in the room, grew cold. The metal chair
felt like ice. And Mari was freezing in the middle of June. She wasn't sure if it was physical or psychological, but Mari had never felt warm since then. That day, a part of Maria died
with her family at age fourteen.
And the only minorly amusing thing that day was some distant cousin who said:
"She looks pretty in her funeral dress."
June 4, 1999
"Hey, look over there." Trent hit his partner's arm when he didn't comply. "I said look." Warren's bald head turned to the direction Trent pointed at and gave a low whistle. Trent
had to admit that it wasn't really responsible of him to promote gawking at girls while working, but he could barely ignore them when they were at a mall on a Saturday.
"She's probably a nonhuman, if you know what I mean," Warren said in a low voice, ever the cautious. Trent rolled his eyes, for of course he knew what he meant. After all, "n
onhuman"
did not mean galactic alien nor woodland creature. "She's… she's perfect. Perfect eyes, perfect full lips, perfect nose, not to mention a well proportioned body." Trent shook
his head.
"Right, and who says 'well proportioned?' The word 'hot' will do fine, my friend. Besides, look she's a little bit shorter than normal. That's not perfect." He pointed out.
But Warren shook his head in turn, as if laughing at his friend's naïve nature. "No, every body knows that being perfect is just annoying. But if you have a flaw, you're imperfect, making you perfect because there's something that makes you…"
"Ahem."
The two turned to see Raksha Keller, who appeared none too happy. Before they could mumble explanations and apologies—which included studying girls' back pockets for hidden
weaponry— she spoke sharply. "That girl you were drooling over? Follow her."
Disliking being ordered around in such a clip manner—for Hugh had always been so polite with his orders—Trent asked with uncertain eyes, "Why?"
Keller's expression hardened; she was accustomed to immediate obedience from those of the lower rank. Nissa and Winnie alone were sufficient, but these two were obviously dead
weight. "Because that's what you were sent here to do. Make sure nobody gets to her. You know who nobody is. Tell Nissa if she's leaving or not. She'll take it from there." They
could hear Keller's growling begin and left immediately.
Nissa, she's leaving, Trent thought as he followed her towards the doors. She'll be in front of you in a minute. It's up to you. Got it? He felt nothing. Nissa, don't miss her, there's
Nightworld citizens who wants to give the lady a ride too. Nissa! There was something wrong; she wouldn't play around on something as important as this. He tried again and felt
his words bounce against the walls of her mind.
Mari didn't squint when the fierce glare of the sun met her eyes. Ignoring the oh so obvious vulgar remarks from three boys a few feet away from her, she stood, hand on hip, eyes
searching for a black topless convertible. While waiting, she saw a black stretch limousine occupying three spaces. Before she could see who was the celebrity honoring the small