by May Sage
That probably didn’t help; everyone burst into tears. Yet by the end of the song, Mikar’s soul felt a little lighter, his grief acknowledged and sated.
They’d lost too much, but they were still here, whole.
They’d live for Luke’s and Ruby’s sakes, as well as their own.
The Helsings, Stormhales, and most of their witch friends headed back to the hill together, silently following Chloe and Levi.
Skyhall was comfortably housing those who’d lost their houses in the fire for now, and Bill, who needed some time to recover.
In a drawing room, they poured wine, whiskey, and brandy, and toasted to the lives they still had, without exchanging words for a time.
Chloe was the first to speak. “We should open the borders to those who want to come here.”
“What?” Levi’s fangs came out.
“We can’t rely on the shields and stay hidden here. It’s not living. And it’s half the reason why Aveka has so many followers. So, let them come. Not all at once, of course. They can clear it ahead of time.”
Mikar nodded. “Every time. Every time, we think we’re safe at the borders, and something threatens that. We’ve grown complacent.”
Levi’s jaw remained tight.
Before he could voice his protest, Chloe lifted a hand, silencing him. “Let me finish. We should let people come visit if they want to, because the bulk of the vampire community isn’t our enemy until we make them that way. I’m an easy villain to paint, and Aveka’s offering a seductive vision. But that’s not all.” She leaned forward. “I want to hunt her down. On her turf. I want to find a way onto her island and destroy it.”
He eyes were sky blue, bright with bloodlust.
“She killed me once last night. I would have died a second time if it wasn’t for Diana and Belial. I’m done. She wants a fight, let’s fight.”
“What does Eirikr think about it?” Cat asked.
The ancient was back on Cosnoc, in his cave, now Greer had come to.
“I haven’t said anything yet, but let’s face it, he’s going to cheer.” Chloe knew her ancestor more than anyone here, but after last night, Mikar was fairly certain she was right. The man was all for attacking first, mercilessly.
Levi closed his eyes. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t move to the offensive. But we’re talking about hunting down a powerful ancient immortal witch with a huge following.” He paused. “We’ll have to take precautions, and plan accordingly.”
That didn’t sound like a refusal at all. Mikar shrugged. “Hell, yeah. Let’s burn her place next time.”
Diana nodded. “I’m in.”
They were all in.
“While I’m at it, there’s something else I should tell all of you. We’re all in this together. We’re family.” Chloe’s eyes caught Diana’s. Mikar had no clue what she was about to say, but it was clear Diana did. “I’m pregnant.”
Oh.
Well, fuck.
Levi was still shouting at Chloe for daring to fight "in her condition"—his words—and Chloe, shouting right back about being pregnant, not paralyzed, when Diana wisely decided to make herself scarce, before anyone brought up that she'd been the first to know. "Shall we head home?"
Home was a wood and red stone lodge on the wilder flank of the hill, overlooking the lake, from now on. Mikar nipped her earlobe in response, getting to his feet.
"Hey." They'd almost reached the door when Alexius caught up with her. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
She smiled at her brother. "Sure. Walk with us?"
They walked out of Skyhall in a silence that wasn't entirely uncomfortable. To squash whatever bit of awkwardness was left between them, Diana asked, "So, how would you feel if your little sister hung around for a while?"
Mikar growled. "A lot longer than that."
Alexius sighed dramatically. "I suppose I'd have to get used to seeing your snotty mug around the place again."
She stuck her tongue out, unabashedly childish.
"I wanted to ask about the songs. I never knew you had that power. I thought it died with Father Dearest."
Oh. She should have seen that question coming, but in the light of everything that had occurred over the last day, Death's summons seemed like a thousand years ago.
"Yeah, it didn't. Father made me sing myself to sleep each night—to cultivate my voice, he said. To ensure my ability grew with my transition. And he had me memorize the spells." She bit her lip. "I was dying at the end. You didn't know—that's when you were..." She didn't want to say going crazy, so she focused on the important bit. "I’d caught malaria, and there was no hope for me. So he said he'd perform the ritual, and Mother volunteered to take my place."
Alexius looked shocked; no one must have explained it to him. "How did you think she'd died?"
He shook his head. "Father said I drove her to suicide. He said my losing it was too much for her to bear, that I'd damned her soul."
What an utter dick. "Well, you didn't. She sacrificed herself. I begged her not to, when I could speak, but she did it anyway. And I had to live with the guilt. I promised myself I'd never submit anyone else to bearing the weight of someone else's sacrifice. But Chloe..." She bit her lip. "There's something about that woman. And I knew she was pregnant, too. So I did what I could. We had a very lucky break, having a born vampire who wasn't yet turned here. It won't happen again for some time."
They'd reached the house. Alexius whistled. "How did I never see this place?"
Mikar shrugged. "You didn't exactly use to socialize with the rest of us."
"What can I say? You don't have tits." Alexius shrugged. "It looks pretty good. Maybe we'll build the new house in the woods, too."
"No way. This is our territory, Helsing. You stay on the obnoxious side of the hill." Mikar walked away downhill. "I have to pick up your chairs and table."
He could have done that any time: he was giving them some time alone. Diana had truly lucked out with this man.
"Do you want to come in?"
Alexius shook his head. "I have to head back. I just wanted to ask about the song. You were pretty good, for a snotty face."
That was the highest of compliments, from her brother. Diana rolled her eyes. Then, all humor left her. "You really weren't responsible for Mother's death. Don't think that for one moment. Father wanted to hurt you." She was going to have to say it. "I could be wrong, but it's possible that you might not have been his. At least, it's possible he believed it."
If she'd expected surprise, she didn't get it. Alexius laughed, appearing delighted. "Solene Helsing, screwing around?" He could barely manage to get the words out. "By all the gods, I would never have thought of that. But it would be logical," he added, still amused, though he managed to control the laughter. "That'd explain why the old man never bothered with me. Damn." His grin widened. "Who do you think my father was, then?" Then he grimaced. "Ew, let's hope I don't have any De Villier in me."
Diana shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe there's a reason your fated mate is a wolf. You got used to running around on four legs like you were born to it."
Alexius's eyes widened. "Wasn't the alpha of the pack blond when we were growing up?"
She could only laugh. "He was. He had a huge beard, and long, matted hair." After a second, remembering the long-dead shifter she'd known as a child, she admitted, "He was kind of hot, if you think about it."
"That would make me a Rosedean-slash-whatever that werewolf was, not a Helsing."
Diana reached out to his forearm and squeezed it. "No way. You're Alexius Helsing. My brother."
He mirrored her move, holding on to her other arm. "I'm glad you're finally home."
And after hundreds of years of drifting across the entire planet, she was.
* * *
The End.
Next in After Darkness Falls: Wings and Shadowthief
* * *
May Sage juggles multiple series and prioritizes those which are well reviewed. If you want
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More from May
“There, there, little lamb. It wouldn’t do to hurt your pretty face, now would it?”
I wish his voice wasn’t so sweet. I wish I didn’t want to hear, smell, and feel more of him. I know it has nothing to do with me. Enchanting others is simply the fae’s nature.
Recalling my aunt’s advice, I bite my bottom lip, as hard as I can.
To my surprise, the fae laughs.
“No need for all that. Besides, I’ll have you know some of us do enjoy a little bit of blood with our pleasure.”
I let go of my lip, suitably stricken. Aunt Julia said that salt is one of the things I can use to repel the folk. If absolutely necessary, human blood does have enough salt to keep one at bay for a moment or two.
She said that when they’re of a mind to eat one of us, they have to cut us up, cook us down, and season us with honey and berries, till we’re a thick stew without much salt left to it.
I will this thought away. I will every terrifying tale of the folk right out of my mind.
Except for one. I’d been terrified when she told me about the stew, but then she said something else. “Don’t fear, Keira. That only happens to regular mortals. The folk don’t eat us fae-touched. They have other uses for us.”
"What uses?" I’d asked. She only chuckled.
Half reassuring, half alarming, like all fairy tales.
I pull back and get up, ignoring the growing pain in my left ankle, where the root lashed at me. I hope nothing’s broken.
“What do you want?”
The fae smirks, moving so fast I have some trouble making out the detail of his cat-like, elegant movement as he rises to a crouch. “I only meant to congratulate you, pretty girl. You excel in deceit, for one so young.”
I analyze every word, turning them in my mind like they’re a riddle. The folk can’t tell an outright lie, so they make it their business to twist the truth around their tongue.
“Meant. Past tense. What do you mean to do now?”
His smile widens, revealing long, strong canines that look too much like fangs for comfort.
What I don’t understand is how something like him—something not human, and quite clearly dangerous, threatening—can possibly look so irresistible. There must be a spell in the works. Yes, magic.
When the paranormal creatures came out of the shadows years ago, before my parents were even born, they changed the world that until then had belonged to us, redefining the place of humans in the food chain. We’d believed we were on top. Now, we know that saying we’re in the middle is quite generous.
There are werewolves and witches, vampires, and even dragons, if one believes the tales.
I’ve always wished I had magic—true magic, not just my lingering trace of weirdness that causes me nothing but trouble. Never so more than now. If I could create some sort of shield against him, I would. If, if, if.
“Someone schooled you in our ways,” he notes approvingly. “I wish to take you home. These woods are dangerous, and you’re wounded.”
Shifting my weight, one hip out, I put one hand on my waist and open my mouth to inform him that I can take care of myself, but right then, a sharp jolt of pain shoots all the way up my leg from my ankle.
I curse under my breath. The fae only laughs. Instantly, he’s right there beside me, one arm around my torso. “Allow me.”
Without waiting for permission of any kind, he lifts me from under the knees, and carries me like I’m a princess.
I don’t move. I don’t say a thing. Inside, I’m screaming. I’m fighting myself, and panicking.
Nothing has ever felt so perfect, so delectably right. I’m in no pain, there’s no discomfort. The craving for flesh—anyone’s flesh, any boy I can lock my lips on—is sated, as if his touch, his presence, is all I could ever need.
I’m whole.
I hate, hate, hate him.
And I know, to the bottom of my soul, that I’ll never stop needing him. Needing this peace.
“Do you have a name, pretty girl?”
“I do,” I reply spitefully.
He seems positively delighted with me. “They call me Cal. You’ll want to be careful, if you wish to wander the woods. Bring salt, but in powder, not rock, you understand? Iron will be efficient—steel, if you must. Turn your clothes inside out. Your socks, or your underthings will do. And when you need to find shelter fast, turn to running water. Yes?”
I only nod, committing all of this to memory. Not that I will ever wander the woods again. We live too close to forgo protection, though.
“Good, pretty girl.”
I grimace in distaste. He sounds so condescending, I’d kick his ass if my feet were in any state to attempt the endeavor.
Reading my expression correctly, he tells me, “You’ll have to give me a name, if you wish to be known as anything but the pretty girl in my domain.”
His domain?
I narrow my eyes at him. “Names have power to your kind.”
“True names, yes. The name of your soul. I doubt your human procreators would have guessed it right, so your given name would have none.”
I don’t give it to him, anyway. “You were in front of the house yesterday,” I accuse.
This surprises him—at least, he pretends it does. “Was I?”
I don’t grace him with an answer.
I see my house through the woods, and a knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach loosens. Part of me doubted he’d take me back, whatever he said.
I quiet the voice that says I might not have minded being led astray for a while.
I only have moments left with him. Suddenly, I think of a thousand questions. I ask the one that matters most to me at this moment. “Why did that—that thing—call me queen? Who did he think I was?”
The fae keeps walking, ignoring me for so long, I think I won’t get an answer. But when we reach the edge of my backyard, he says, “Boggart. The thing was a boggart. A wicked brownie. And you’re quite lucky he mistook you, otherwise he might well have taken a bite out of you—or led you down to the depths of his hole, where you’d never see the light of day again. Do not presume to stand above what you cannot understand, mortal.”
Suddenly, I’m mortal, not pretty girl anymore. I don’t know which I like less.
I suppose I’ve been a little condescending, but I simply didn’t know what to call the boggart. I don’t attempt to justify myself.
“And he mistook you for the queen of the bright court, despite knowing she’d never dare enter these woods.” His voice has lost all humor, all pleasantry. There’s only darkness left. Suave, dangerous darkness. I wish I could bottle it. Spread it on my skin every day.
“Why?” is all I ask.
Cal looks down at me. The shadow is there, under the surface, making his piercing gaze cold and unyielding. “Oh, no, Keira sweet. You’ve had quite enough from me for today. If you have other questions, you’ll have to follow the willow trail, and come dance for me under the starlight some night.”
His bright, toothy smirk tells me he knows I’ll never dare.
We reach the four steps leading to the back door, and he lowers me to the white wooden panels, ever so gently.
I watch him retreat to the woods without a goodbye.
It’s only after he’s out of view that I realize he said the name I never gave him.
I get up, intending to hobble to the kitchen and ask Mom to run me to the ER, but when my foot hits the floor I notice the pain—if it ever existed—is long gone. I walk inside, forcing myself not to look back to the woods.
May Sage writes fantasy romance under Alexi Blake.
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