Flames roared to the sky. A wave of heat struck out. Guests stepped back. By silent accord, Sabah, Kailen, and Talaith stood in place. Swirls of hot yellow, orange, and vibrant red mesmerized her as she stared into the heart of the fire, sensing an impending message coming from the ether. A familiar pair of leonine eyes surged out of the conflagration, then hovered, gazing at her little group.
“Do you see him?” she whispered in awe. “Dear Master…farewell.”
“I do,” Kailen answered. “Good-bye, old friend.”
“Be well, my love,” Sabah murmured. “We shall meet soon.”
The eyes flew above the pyre, the fire rose and swirled into a huge single flame as brilliant colorful specks lifted en masse, coalesced in a single plume, and disappeared in the night sky.
ALSVÅG, SWEDEN…
Westerberg mansion. Sixty days later…
Kailen made the last pass to his white tie, then pulled the ends to tighten it, ensuring his wing collar remained tucked under the bow. For the sake of a smoother look with his waistcoat’s white buttons, he’d chosen pearl studs and cuff links for his shirt. He donned his tailcoat and stepped back.
Somewhat bemused, he eyed the image the gilded, full-length mirror reflected. Used to wearing his long black robe and triskelion pin, he hardly recognized himself. Then again, he’d only attended the white-tie affair Fritiof and Adalheidis held in honor of Gustaf’s appointment to the High Council. That had happened over two hundred years ago, and a lot of rain had fallen since.
Tonight’s event merited every bit of opulence and splendor. Certainly much more than Gustaf’s appointment received. A Titanian Scroll Inscription ceremony, which happened once or at the most twice in a thousand years was a cause to feast and celebrate. But two in one night had no precedent. Soren and his cousin Roald had found their life mates, Maya and Regina respectively, within weeks of each other, and the family was overjoyed. Invitations had been sent out near and far, and Soren, being so close and devoted to Kailen, had given an ultimatum: “You and Talaith best attend, or your life is forfeit.”
And so here he was, ensuring the hem of his waistcoat didn’t commit the fashion sin of peeking below the tailcoat.
Talaith stepped out of the bathroom, fresh and perfumed, a towel wrapped high around her platinum hair and another around her lovely curves. Temptation personified, her ivory skin glistened with a few scattered water drops. He slammed his eyes shut, suppressing the urge to lick them off one by one while removing those pesky towels.
“Gods, don’t you look handsome.” Her lavender eyes twinkled as she approached him. “Not that you aren’t handsome all the time. But this… Tails were made with you in mind.”
“Thank you, my lady.” The rush of self-consciousness caught him off-guard. To hide it, he affected an exaggerated, ceremonious bow. “You are quite ravishing yourself. It would be my unqualified pleasure to demonstrate how your beauty affects me.”
“Oh, no. You’d get all wet and ruin your dashing image.”
“Like I care. I’d happily exchange the penguin suit for more pleasurable pursuits. Unfortunately, Gustaf, who doesn’t know when or how to relax, has called a meeting with the council members attending the Scroll Inscription. As we speak, they’re waiting for me. If not for that…” He leaned closer, inhaled her sweet fragrance, then pulled back.
“Go on, love.” She touched his cheek. “Don’t keep them waiting, and while you and the council discuss and rearrange all pending matters in the supernatural world, I can finish getting dressed.”
“Yes, my lady. I’m going, before I weaken to your charms and fall at your feet.” He snapped his heels together and, chuckling, walked out.
Kailen made a quick right outside his door and another in the main corridor in the direction of the grand staircase and Gustaf’s personal office situated forty feet away. Finding the door open, he walked into an antechamber, then continued following the sound of voices to another set of double doors left open as well.
He paused at the threshold, and Gustaf waved. “Glad you made it, Kailen,” he said. “You’re the last to arrive. Make yourself comfortable.”
Kailen nodded and did as requested while taking in the L-shaped office and the overall mood of Gustaf and guests. The leather furnishings were simple, yet elegant. A plush leather sofa with nailhead detail and a mix of tufted wingback and high-back Queen Anne chairs were arranged around an oblong cherrywood cocktail table. A silver tray with a matching set of cut crystal decanter and rocks glasses stood in the center. On the left wall, a lit fireplace added a touch of comfort, diminishing the veiled anxiety in the supernaturals’ faces.
In addition to Gustaf, Fritiof and Soren were present, but not the rest of the Westerberg males. Which Kailen thought strange, as this mansion was the beating heart of the Titanian race. Eachann, Ramiro, and Lord Aten completed the meeting.
Quickly, he took the empty chair next to Eachann, as the vampire’s dry sense of humor and sarcastic side comments made the worst and most boring of meetings fly by. A moment later, Kailen’s senses went on alert mode. A peculiar intensity radiated from the vampire, and while his eyes weren’t flashing red yet—a clear sign of anger and danger—whatever had been previously discussed had ticked him off.
“Thanks for coming,” Gustaf said. “I’ve asked you to join me because soon after Khnurn’s funeral and Talaith’s ascendance, important matters came up. We now know Rhonda Sterling, in conjunction with Dubtach, was behind Gisela’s kidnapping. According to the grapevine, Miss Sterling had modified her father’s formula and used Gisela as guinea pig. Maya and her godmother have done great regressive work healing the elf’s brain, but we need more, shall we say, firepower.”
Gustaf paused for effect as he glanced from face to face. He stopped on Eachann. A deep growl rumbled out of the vampire in response.
Oh, hell. Why would the Titanian push Eachann this way? Did he want another scorched-earth event?
“Anyway.” Gustaf reached for the cut crystal decanter and held it up. “Islay single malt, anyone? It’s quite good.”
Ramiro raised a finger. Fritiof and Lord Aten nodded. Kailen passed on the offer and so did Soren. Eachann never drank…alcohol.
Gustaf poured the amber liquid, and the unique smoky scent of peat wafted through the room.
“It needs a touch of water to open the aroma and bouquet.” He exchanged the decanter with a small water pitcher, then allowed a single drop to fall into each glass before passing them around.
“Before you continue, Gustaf.” Kailen decided to slow down the Titanian and speak. Talaith would kill him, but once he explained the issue with Eachann, she’d agree. “Talaith and I have healing magic. We can add that firepower you’re seeking and then some.”
Next to him, the vampire exhaled a deep breath.
“I appreciate the offer, Kailen.” Gustaf sniffed the aromatic liquid, sipped, then held the glass against the light as he swirled it around. “But at the moment, you and Talaith have your hands full. She’s still acclimating to the ascendance and requires your support. Meanwhile, the rest of us need her ready for action. The fight’s not over. There’s more coming our way.”
“Enough, Uncle. Get to it already,” Soren demanded. “You’re pissing off Eachann and me.”
“Forgive me,” Ramiro said. “I’m confused. This conversation makes no sense. What kind of firepower are you talking about?”
“Now you did it, brother.” Fritiof laughed. “You see, Ramiro, Gustaf wants to bring into the mix a sorceress who’s had a violent history with Eachann.”
“Oh… Why not choose another magician?” Ramiro asked.
“Well. I-I thought,” Gustaf stammered.
“I have a suggestion. Send Gisela to us,” Lord Aten intervened. “Zuberi is a talented spiritual mage, kind, and very patient.”
“Of course,” Kailen murmured. “Zuberi is perfect.”
Gustaf’s nervous gaze jumped around. If his objective was to throw Brysys and Each
ann together to watch destructive sparks fly, he’d been shot down.
“Thank you, Lord Aten. I shall inform Maya and make the necessary arrangements. There is only one concern.” Gustaf paused. “Her father, Lord Alain, is missing.”
“Again?” Soren asked. “He was in your care.”
“Yes, I’m sorry, nephew. He took off after the funeral. No one has seen or heard from him since. I fear Alain could try to sneak in…”
“Impossible,” Lord Aten snapped. “The wards and security rings protecting the Aurician stronghold are impenetrable. No one sneaks in, as you say, without our leave. She will be safe and allowed to heal unmolested. Kailen understands.”
He nodded. “Indeed, my lord.”
“Great solution, Uncle.” Soren grinned. “Kills two birds with one stone. Alain will surface eventually. He’s not the best father, but he loves his daughter. We’ll get him then.”
“Sounds like problems number one and two were commingled. Gisela and Miss Rhonda Sterling. Am I wrong?” Kailen asked. “And before we move on to number three, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk about.”
“Shoot,” Soren said.
“Vallen’s blood bears an in-depth analysis.” He rubbed his temple with two fingers as he recalled finding the wounded lynx. “I think it’s poison resistant. He took a direct hit from a drone, and their lasers are tainted with poison. Talaith worked to heal him, but considering the wound, his recovery was easier than expected.”
“I will talk to Vallen. He’s a good friend. I may even take a trip to Hillsborough. I haven’t seen him in years. What else?” Gustaf asked.
Fritiof laughed. “Ha! Mage Oras, that’s what.”
Kailen stiffened. “Anyone have a bead on him?”
“No one specifically does,” Fritiof said. “We’ve received rumors and sightings. Indications that he’s still on earth. Since Astarot remains in exile, we can assume Oras isn’t running to help his old boss out. The question is, what in hell is he plotting? We keep him in the number three position because we’ll be forced to deal with him sooner or later.”
“Aye…so then, are we good here?” Eachann stood.
Gustaf waved him off. “Yes, please, go, it’s over. I’ll see you in the ceremony room.”
Eachann strode out of the office so quickly, Kailen had to dash after him.
“Eachann, wait up,” he called out.
Frowning, the vampire stopped at the threshold without turning.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. Won’t take long.”
Kailen walked past him. Hoping Eachann would follow, he reached the banister overlooking the parquet floor below and crossed his hands over the polished wood.
“Talk, then.”
Streams of tension radiated from the vampire. His voice, a cross between a growl and a roar, revealed his discomfort. It was damn near palpable. Kailen studied him. The meeting hadn’t started this irritation. However, following a natural progression of what he knew about Eachann, the source of his chagrin was likely walking about downstairs or perhaps dressing for the event. Eachann would clearly rather have his fangs pulled out than stay in Alsvåg another minute.
“Hear me out for only a moment. After I’m finished, you can do whatever you please with the information.” He paused, evaluating the vampire’s reaction. So far, so good—no fire flashed out.
Eachann nodded. Once.
Kailen swallowed.
“You know what Talaith does. She searches memories.”
“Aye.”
“We were in Germany when the scrying waters called to her. She saw Brysys in that session—”
“Kailen. I’m warning you.”
“You agreed.” He clasped Eachann’s arm. “One moment.”
“Aye, go on.”
“Back in New York, Maya had questions about the ambush. Rather than trying to explain a story she didn’t know at all, Talaith took her back in time. The search revealed Graeme’s duplicity and jealousy. He hated your lead vampire position and your relationship with Brysys. He made a deal with Astarot to kill you so he could keep Brysys for himself. But the daemon lord wanted both of you gone. Graeme died in the scuffle, Brysys was taken hostage to the exile realm, and you, lucky bastard, escaped. For the record, Brysys did not betray you. I’m sure Talaith won’t mind taking you on a memory search. There, I spoke my piece. Do as you will.”
Kailen pivoted, leaving a silent and dumbstruck Eachann behind.
Gustaf and Beatrix’s elegant ballroom had been decorated for the occasion. The heraldic gryphon symbol of the Titanian race was displayed above the raised dais. Just below, two Chippendale mahogany desks holding massive Titanian scrolls glimmered thanks to the cathedral-style crystal chandelier and matching sconces throughout.
The principals, Soren and Maya with Fritiof and Adalheidis, and Roald and Regina with Gustaf and Beatrix, took their places before the desks. Following tradition, guests gathered on the main floor to watch and witness the official unions.
“How many Scroll Inscriptions have you attended?” Talaith whispered.
He squeezed her hand. “This is my first. I was assigned to the Seelie Court when Gustaf and Beatrix celebrated theirs. Khnurn witnessed for them.”
“Oh,” she murmured.
“Have I told you how exquisite you are?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Gods, Kailen. Hush. Look, Fritiof is about to speak.”
Fritiof, visibly moved, waved at the guests requesting silence. “On behalf of Gustaf, Beatrix, Adalheidis, and myself, thank you for celebrating with us this momentous occasion.” He paused, extending a hand. “Kailen, my dearest friend, will you come up to the dais?”
“Me? Why?”
Talaith pushed him forward. “Go, they’re waiting for you.”
Staring at the smiling faces on the dais, Kailen stepped out of the crowd, and a round of applause thundered. His eyes welled, and he breathed deeply, holding the tears back. A weepy Tuath Dé looking pathetic and sappy would not do.
He took his place at Soren and Maya’s side, and the rest of the ceremony went by in a blur. He signed where he was told to do so, then shook hands, kissed cheeks, and stood smiling as cameras flashed. With the ceremony concluded, well-wishers circled the family, and he sneaked out, rushing to Talaith.
“I wasn’t expecting that.” He pulled her out of the way as crew members removed partitioning walls and opened the room to dining tables, a string orchestra, and dance floor.
“Why not? You’ve been with the Westerbergs for ages. You’re family. I can’t think of anyone more deserving than you to witness for them.”
He swallowed. “Well… They…they were my charges, and I…I had to protect them.” The tightness in his throat didn’t want to ease. If he continued to talk about this, he’d make a fool of himself.
“I think we should step outside and collect our thoughts.”
Always intuitive, she sensed his emotional roller coaster. Nodding, he led her to the balcony, through floor-to-ceiling glass doorways. The soft breeze flowing from the shore worked its miracle, and he settled a bit.
Wrapping her arm around his, he strolled along the cement banister. “Your timing is impeccable, a stór. Blubbering is not a good look for me.”
“Your battle-hardened warrior reputation would take a serious hit.”
“Sometimes I wish none of it had followed me around. It gets heavy, you know?”
The balcony wrapped around the northwestern corner of the mansion, and he slowed. “How are you feeling? Do you want to continue, or go inside?”
“Let’s stay out a little longer.”
“As you wish. Did I tell you before how stunning you look? Every male in the ballroom hates my guts.”
She blushed, and he laughed, remembering his reaction when he returned to their bedroom. He’d goggled in disbelief at the strapless black silk gown hugging her every curve. The pendant, the single jewelry piece, sparkled below her neck. Her ivory skin and lavender
eyes stood out against the contrast. And her full ruby lips… It took every bit of control to stay on course and attend the ceremony.
He reached the corner of the mansion when voices came from behind. Quickly, he pulled her around with him. She sent him a questioning look. He pressed a finger to his lips.
Eachann and Brysys were engaged in a heated conversation. Actually, more like a one-sided dialogue, as she did most of the talking and pleading. He maintained his remote, unwaveringly stiff posture. Not much had changed since the exchange Kailen caught between them in New York. Eachann was a damned stubborn vampire.
“I can’t see,” Talaith whispered, thumping his back.
He brought her in front of him and looked over her head.
The conversation ended in moments. Eachann sidestepped Brysys and went back inside. Brysys, head bent, leaned on the balustrade for several seconds. Abruptly, she raised her head, then wiped her cheek, smoothed her gown, and returned to the party.
“What a pigheaded, recalcitrant jerk,” Kailen muttered.
“How so?”
“I told him what you and Maya had seen in the memory search. I even suggested he talk to you. I knew you’d show him the past. But has he come to you? No, he has not.”
“When someone lives a lie for a long time, centuries in Eachann’s situation, the truth is difficult to accept. It feels awkward and fake. He needs extra time to process the information. He’ll come around.”
“Beautiful, smart, and wise. How did I get so lucky?” He kissed her forehead. “Did you speak to her?”
“Brysys? About unlocking my memories? Not yet.” She sighed. “She’s cagey. I’m not sure if the trouble of chasing her is worth it. Don’t you love me as I am?”
The Last Danann (Titanian Chronicles, #2) Page 31