by May Sage
Part of him thought about waking his friend up, but he wasn't about to condemn another man to death, if his excursion ended as he feared it would. He hiked alone, up the frozen mountain, wrapped in fur, braving wind and snow.
And he found the shrine, on top of hundreds of stairs carved in the rock. By the time he reached its door, Mikar collapsed, spent. He knew he didn't have enough strength to ever get back down to the village. But he was here with a mission. He prayed for his family, for his little sisters and brothers, like his mother had asked him to. He prayed for Runa, the pretty girl he'd considered taking as a wife. Mikar had been a man for quite some time, but he’d been reluctant to leave his family. With his father gone and his siblings so young, his mother couldn’t spare him. Still, he had hopes Runa might accept to remain home. She got along with his mother well enough.
Mikar also prayed for his closest friend. Belial.
Mikar thought that his vision was playing with him when he saw Belial right in front of him, in nothing more than a tilma and a simple loincloth. He should have frozen to death, but his pale skin didn't so much as shiver in the storm.
"Malikar. You shouldn't have come here, friend."
Mikar had stared, speechless.
"You're dying," Belial told him. "I had not planned for you to go. Not now."
"What are you?" Mikar managed to croak.
"Here, take this." He handed him his lined tilma, but Mikar brushed his hand aside.
His voice rose to a shout. "What are you!”
Belial's eyes settled on him for a long moment. "They call my father Mictlantecuhtli, here. Other names, elsewhere. I'm a lord of the underworld."
Mikar didn't register shock at all, as though he'd realized it the moment he'd seen him, unharmed here. As though part of him might have known it all along.
"My mother," he said. Talking was getting hard, freezing as he was. "My siblings. They…please, Lial."
He couldn't manage more.
Belial looked away. "Your mother sent you away. I should have known she would." He shook his head. "She died today. She killed the children first, so they would not suffer any longer."
His tone was so calm, indifferent. For the first time in his life, Malikar Ashkii knew hatred.
"You could have…you could have…"
"We cannot interfere with every mortal life. If we did, this world would crawl with too many souls, and wither. But I did help," Belial stated evenly. "I protected you from the illness."
Mikar wanted nothing more than to throttle the monster who'd found him worth saving and condemned his family to death. "Why?" was all he managed. He was starting to lose feelings in his fingertips, his feet, and his vision had long since blurred.
"Because one day you saw a stranger with red hair, unlike everyone you've known your entire life, and instead of attacking me, you asked if I was lost. You took me to your village, to your home. You're a rare soul. And you're my friend, Malikar."
He must be joking.
Belial sighed, dropping to a crouch beside him. "I cannot warm you. The flames I wield would turn you to ashes. I cannot stop death. You're at its door. I can only give you another life beyond the veil."
Mikar hadn't realized what he'd said yes to, then.
Almost two thousand years had passed since he'd been turned, and in all that time, he'd never felt this conflicted.
He watched the object of all his woes stride across the valley between Night Hill and the Wolvswoods. The lake, still under a cloud of mist, reflected the green, moss-covered landscape. It was beautiful as always, but Mikar couldn’t pay attention to the autumn landscape. Not when she was here. Her thick, dark hair flying behind her in waves, Diana was a vision. He could smell it from here, the wind carrying her heady scent to his nostrils. She was autumn leaves, white musk, blackcurrant, and warm vanilla. He woke each night after dreams and nightmares where he took a bite.
Why was he this fixated on her?
Even now, he wanted nothing more than to cross the distance separating them and take her unforgettable mouth.
Mikar was used to the shadows. Whether his job was murder or protection, they were his companions, his allies. He moved too quietly for anyone to notice him—prey or charge. At least, until Chloe. From the very start, she'd sensed his presence and turned toward him when he'd observed her, even though her human senses shouldn't have been that astute. And now, there was Diana. It didn't matter how silently he walked, how synced his movements were with the soft brush of the wind. When he arrived, she always spotted him, held his gaze, acknowledging him, before returning to her affairs.
When he replaced Ruby's shift around Chloe this afternoon, the girls had been at the lakeside, putting decorations and buffet tables up. They were preparing for Halloween, he realized, surprised.
It had been centuries since they'd celebrated the holiday in Oldcrest. The students had parties in their dorms sometimes, but no one on the hill had ever attended.
Back in the day, when the castle at the foot of the hill had housed a clan of witches, Levi and the other residents of Night Hill had held celebrations in their honor. In return, the witches used to throw a Winter Solstice ball in the castle. Always one for a party, Mikar had sorely missed both traditions. He wondered what had brought this on. He hadn't heard anything about Samhain being reinstated. Yet the high heap of dry wood, surrounded by stones marked with runes, was unmistakably part of the traditional Samhain celebrations they used to have.
He could practically taste the excited energy on the lakeside. Blair, Gwen, Chloe, Greer, and Diana were having a hell of a time preparing the fair. Mikar was used to missing the fun when he was on duty, but today, he didn’t want to stay at his post. For once, he hated the shadows.
Mikar could technically join them, if he so wished, but it wouldn’t be wise. He saw more from a remote point. He only stuck close to Chloe when there was another guard nearby, surveying the surroundings. Plus, he attempted to give Chloe some privacy and time with her friends, when he could. He doubted she very much liked having someone shadow her every step night and day.
She put up with the consent surveillance to appease Levi's worry. A worry that wasn't quite as justified as it had once been. Chloe used to be vulnerable. Now, not so much. Mikar hadn't realized how little use he was until her sparring round with Diana.
The soft mortal was no more, though Chloe still wore her face.
"Should we move the pyre?" Chloe asked, doubtful, assessing their work. "It seems a little close to the woods. What if it caught fire?"
Diana dragged a hefty dead tree trunk behind her. "That's why we have witches. Gwen can keep an eye on it. You're a weather girl, right?"
The witch grimaced. "That'd be me, but while it's my core strength, I'm not very good at controlling it. I'm as likely to call some hail as rain. Way to ruin a party."
Diana laughed. "That'd be because it's your core strength. The stronger the power, the wilder it is. You're under twenty-five, right?"
It changed from individuals, but as a general rule, witches entirely came into their power around that age, when their brain was done fully developing.
"Twenty-three," Gwen replied. "Not very far off."
"It'll all stabilize later," Diana promised, her tone both soothing and matter-of-fact.
Chloe titled her head. "It sounds like you speak from experience. Are you a mage?"
Diana's expression didn't change, but unless Mikar was very much mistaken, she was schooling it into neutrality. His attention was entirely focused on her. Part of him wanted to step out of the woods, but he guessed that she'd be even less likely to share much if he was obviously paying attention.
"I don't have much experience, actually, but I know the academics."
Chloe had caught her guarded expression, and nosy as always, she pushed. "So, you don't have magic?"
Diana smiled. "I didn't say that. I'm a Helsing."
That reply confused Chloe, but not Mikar. The elder Helsings he’d known back
in the day had been magic users of some description. He couldn’t remember exactly what they did. There were rumors that they’d held powers over life and death itself, but he very much doubted that.
"Alexius doesn't have magic," Chloe pointed out. “Well, not the usual type. He does alchemy, right?"
"Right." Leaving it at that, Diana retrieved a sharp ax from the ground and started to hack at the trunk, each of her blows cutting deep.
In no time, she had the tree trunk cut in two long pieces. She returned to the woods, passing close to Mikar without sparing him a glance, though everything about her demeanor said she noticed him. She was bristling, and holding her chin high in defiance.
Mikar was irritated and entertained, as usual. Her apparent distaste didn't wound so much as challenge him. He knew why she acted this way: he'd kissed her, and that pissed her off.
It pissed her off because she'd kissed him right back.
Diana was used to being in charge, of controlling everything. Nothing about their kiss had been controlled. Mikar had learned his lesson, though. He wasn't going to do it again. Not because he didn't want to feel her warm, silky skin, and certainly not because she didn't desire him. She did. He felt it, saw it, smelled it. But he wasn't going to make another move because she'd fled up the stairs last time. If he pushed, she might get the hell out of Oldcrest.
Mikar wasn’t the kind of man who chased women who weren’t sure about him. Oh, he could see she was tempted. Every time she looked at him, she seemed to wrestle with herself, trying to convince herself to stay away.
Still, attraction wasn’t consent. He needed that. Needed her to want him like he wanted her. And if she didn’t, well…
Well, what?
He realized there was a chance she wouldn’t act on their attraction, but part of him refused to acknowledge it. He liked to think of his getting a chance to touch her again as a when, not an if.
She dragged another trunk past him, shooting him a glare. "Are you going to just stand there, or will you help out?"
He liked when she spoke to him, although it tended to be colored with wrath. “I don’t know. The view's delightful from here." He pressed his lips together, but he could feel a grin forming despite himself.
It was. She was wearing tight, dark red-brown pants with one of her crazy pairs of patchwork boots. How many had she brought with her? He would have sworn she had more boots than t-shirts.
Being behind her offered a delightful vantage point. Diana was short, but her figure was light and lithe, except for a generous, somewhat out of proportion ass he would love to bite. Her upper body was more athletic than feminine, although her breasts looked like they could be a nice handful, too.
He held her stare as she glared. Before she could spew whatever insults she had in mind, he held his hands up. "All right. What do you need?"
"More trunks. Big ones. Go. Fetch."
Mikar grinned, glad to have made her speak to him. She was trying her very best to annoy him, not knowing that the only thing he disliked was her silence. Insults and teasing he could take. "Will you stroke me when I bring back your stick?"
She practically growled, and he laughed, heading further into the woods. Before she was too far, humor left him. He glanced back over his shoulder. "Look after Chloe."
That was a demand, not a question.
Diana rolled her eyes. "She'll be just fine for two minutes."
Yes, she would, because Diana would protect her if a danger arose. Mikar didn't doubt it. That was the only reason he left them.
Diana built benches out of the trunks, and asked him for more wood each time he brought one. He had to wonder if she was just trying to get him away from her.
Mikar knew the northern flank of Night Hill better than most. The seven houses of the royal families had been built along the lone road leading up to Skyhall, on the opposite side. This side remained half wild. There was hardly ever any maintenance, and Mikar liked it this way.
There was only one house on this side of the hill. His. It wasn't a grand manor meant for fancy gatherings. His gray stone and log cabin, overlooking the lake, had been built, destroyed, and renovated too many times to count. A modern, comfortable haven with a priceless view, it suited him to a T.
He ventured closed to his home to get her a tree he'd meant to cut up a while ago; it had been dead for months, and threatened to fall on his roof. Mikar had only delayed the inevitable out of nostalgia: he'd planted this tree. He hadn't wanted to say goodbye quite yet. But perhaps recycling it into a bench, rather than firewood, would be like giving it a second life.
By the time he came back, Diana had cut up and polished wood planks. She worked, tucking wayward curls behind her ear, entirely focused on her task. When she was done, she assembled the planks into a large rectangular table. Its feet were crossed branches forming two different runes: othala on one side, and algiz on the other.
Suddenly, Mikar knew why they weren't ignoring Halloween this year.
"You did this," he guessed, gesturing all around, to the valley that had been undisturbed this morning. "The Samhain celebrations. That was your idea."
Diana looked put out with him, which meant he'd guessed right. "I don't get why you guys stopped. It never hurts to appease the old gods. Especially since you have an Aos Si for a teacher, and plenty of witches here."
She returned to her task, bending, twisting, and cutting more wood. Mikar could only watch. He never would have thought of this as furniture building, but the way she intuitively worked, without so much as measuring anything or thinking twice, made him see a different side to her, past the fierceness, the beauty, the intensity. She was also creative. He filed it in his mind, eager to learn more about the woman he couldn't stop thinking about.
"I like this tree," Mikar said, lifting the bole he was still carrying under his arm. "Can you make something I could keep?"
He'd have a piece of her after she left.
The very idea of her leaving was like a hot blade twisting inside him, but she often repeated that her stay here was temporary, letting no one forget it.
It made no sense to him. The idea of her being anywhere but here didn't compute to him. He hadn't seen her for nine hundred years, and yet Oldcrest without Diana Helsing revolted him now.
Maybe he needed to get laid. Get her out of his system. This obsession wouldn't do anyone any good.
She shot him a glance, taking in his old ash. "Sure, if it's not eaten by termites." She wrinkled her nose.
Mikar guessed a human might have taken days, if not weeks, to build the banquet tables and benches she made in minutes, but they were still beautiful. He would have liked to remain and keep watching her, but Chloe announced she needed to arrange for the food and send invitations out. Regretfully, he had to follow her back to the Institute.
Whispers and Secrets
Things were getting too strange for her taste here. If she didn't know better, Diana would have thought that someone had put a spell on her. There was no other logical reason why she'd feel so very fixated on a certain man, who wasn't even talking to her if he could help it.
Having opted to finally leave on Monday, in three days, Diana was delighted to get to attend Samhain in Oldcrest before going. It had by far been her favorite celebration out of all those they used to hold, perhaps because it was the one she'd always been permitted to attend.
Samhain celebrated the end of the harvest season, the beginning of the long nights. It was to offer thanks for the blessings given for a year, and her parents had believed that such thanks were a necessity in her case: each year, she’d been given another reprieve from death. It hadn't been hard to rope Chloe into it. She'd only just mentioned the bonfires they used to have at the lake, and the woman had rushed to her feet. When Chloe Eirikrson wanted to make something happen, she did, and the rest of the hill followed, along with a good part of Adairford.
Diana had suggested having the party outdoors, as the weather was unseasonably mild, so they'd had work
to do.
After putting together enough seats and tables to cater to a few hundred people, Diana directed her attention to the thick old oak Mikar had singled out.
She frowned at it, unsure. The healthy circumference of the tree gave her plenty of options. Usually, she let whatever material she touched speak to her, but if she admitted it to herself, she wanted Mikar to be impressed.
Biting her lip, she got to work.
It was a unique tree, and Diana wanted to conserve its spirit. She sliced a plank and left it on the side, then carved four armchairs that she meticulously sculpted, polished, and bent. The plank, she propped on top of two low feet. There. She admired her work. It was a real living room suite, rustic, but suitable for any home. He'd have to treat and wax it, but she knew she'd done good work.
"That's amazing!" Chloe bellowed, coming back at the head of a dozen of her friends, hands full of boxes. She was carrying candles, at Diana's request. "How do you even do that?"
Good question. Diana shrugged. "I like making stuff," was the only reply she had.
“You’re a true artist.”
Diana shrugged off Chloe’s compliment. She didn’t consider herself an artist in general. She wasn't much of a painter, and what she did couldn’t be described as sculptures as such, but bending raw materials to her will until they were something else? That, she liked.
Chloe dropped the candles on top of the table, and moved to sit on one of the armchairs, letting her head fall back. "It's even comfy. How is wood comfy?"
Diana had made sure to incline the back and smooth all edges. She grinned.
"Off," Mikar told Chloe. "That's mine."
Chloe's eyes widened. She looked between Diana and Mikar, then broke into an annoying smirk. "You did this for him?"
Diana didn't like the implication. "I made some seats for the party," she rectified. "He asked for something worth keeping from that tree, for some reason."
"Oh, we're keeping all of these," Chloe said.
Diana couldn't hide her surprise. There were twenty long benches, dozens of stools, and five large tables. "Why?"