"Any idea how this happened?" Chara inquired, though her eyes were bored.
"No," Jirí answered. "The club was not popular with a lot of the older vampires. Methinks there is any number of them who could have done it, their numbers ranging throughout many of the tribes. More than likely, it had naught to do with Servaes and his woman."
"It does not matter," said Amon. His golden ebony skin glistened as he moved. His eyes shone with other concerns. "It was a nest of young ones. We should be glad to be rid of them. They were a constant source of irritation anyway."
"Then we shall claim they died from their own stupidity," Ragnhild said. "That is what we will tell others. Jirí, see to it that the rumors are spread."
Having decided, the council stood, going to seek their rest. Jirí rose from his seat, walking over to one of the velvet draped doors. He felt a hand on his elbow stopping him. The other members disappeared down the tunneled halls like whispers of dust on the still air.
"You know he is not mortal, Jirí," Pietro asserted quietly. His old eyes searched the Moroi leader’s face. "He is a daywalker now -- immortal without our weaknesses."
"Yes, I know," Jirí admitted, without surprise.
"Will he be a threat to us?" Pietro inquired. He didn’t sound concerned.
"No," Jirí answered with confidence. "He will not."
"Let the others learn first that there is nothing to fear before you tell them," Pietro murmured. Jirí nodded in agreement. "Or do not tell them at all. This council will do nothing. It never does anything."
* * * *
London
"Will you miss it?" asked Hathor lightly, smiling beautifully at Servaes from the balcony. Her dress was cut from the mid-Victorian period he was so fond of. The white gown was trimmed with light blue ribbons at the neck and sleeves. There were great slashes and sweeps of material forming the wide, full skirt. The satiny fabric swished pleasantly as Hathor moved. Servaes’ personal favorite was the way the tight bodice was corseted to reveal a good amount of peach colored cleavage.
The sun was setting over the land. It flashed over her old-fashioned wedding veil, silhouetting Hathor in hues of orange and magenta. Her upswept hair picked up the red tints of the sun, shining like a crown over her flushed features. Servaes stared at his wife in awe, unable to believe that she was completely his -- forever.
Servaes wore an evening suit with black velvet cuffs and collar. The black jacket was a stark contrast to his white waistcoat and undershirt. The waistcoat tapered to the hips, the overcoat was fashioned with a short front and long tails in the back. All this was atop straight-cut trousers and plain leather ankle boots with flattened heels.
His eyes glowed softly with life, making Hathor’s chest flutter. So much had changed in the days since their turning. Servaes insisted on a short engagement before marrying her, taking one day to gather their clothing and a preacher. They were married in the back garden with Georgia as their only witness.
Servaes flashed across the room at her question, startling her when he was instantly by her side. Her arms automatically lifted to his shoulders to rest against him. She gazed into his soft eyes, growing lost in their tender depths. She lifted her fingers to his hair, brushing a shortened lock back from his face. He had cut his hair short soon after being able. She left hers long.
"How did you do that?" she gasped.
"You will too in time," he murmured, smiling against her lips as he kissed her. His lungs didn’t rise in breath as he smothered his lips over hers. Lifting his head, his eyes scanned over the distance. He could feel a presence within the trees watching them. Hathor began to turn to follow his gaze. Smiling slightly, he brought her face back around to him. Lightly, he distracted her. "I might even show you how to fly."
"Really?" Hathor gasped. She beamed in pleasure. "I can do that?"
"Oui," he laughed quietly, holding her close. "We have an eternity together, my love. I can show you many things."
"And traveling through time?" she whispered lowly. "Have you figured out that one?"
"All I can say is that the Gods must have allowed it," he answered, giving her a wink.
"The Gods?" she mused.
"Rumors in the vampire world, my love, our second ancestors," Servaes returned. "I’ll tell you about them later. They have no bearing here. And I do not know whether we can be called vampires anymore. Besides, the past does not matter. All I want is right now, here with you."
"There is a lot for me to learn, I suppose," Hathor laughed wryly. Her lips curled with a contented smirk. "But will you miss being what you were before me?"
"Miss what, drinking blood?" Servaes pulled up her arm. The faint stirrings of a gentle melody drifted on the air. It was a sound only they could hear. He began dancing with her over the balcony. The sun finished setting in the distance, casting them in the shadows of night. "No, chéri, I’ve been dying to try something called a cheeseburger."
"I guess there is a lot I can show you too," Hathor giggled. "However, if you keep eating so much, you’re going to get fat, and then I might not want to spend an eternity looking at you."
"Never, ma petite," he sighed. He brought her hand to lie over his heart. "Flying is good exercise. Besides, Georgia insists. I don’t wish to be rude"
Servaes swirled her higher off the ground, letting them float, and they danced over the vines to the soft garden. The presence in the tree line disappeared. Servaes followed it with his senses until it was completely gone. He didn’t let Hathor detect his concern as he smiled for her.
Hathor’s eyes sparkled, reflecting the stars. She gazed at his warm skin, so dark, so beautifully full of life.
"Will you ever get tired of me?" Hathor asked softly, closing the distance between their dancing bodies until it was as if they were one being. "Eternity is a long time."
"No, my Marchioness. Whoever controls all of this," Servaes paused to wave his hand, holding fast to hers to encompass the world around them, "must know that we were meant to be together always."
"And what of the council?" she questioned, her expression falling. "Will they just let us go?"
"I do not know, ma petite," he whispered back. His senses again turned to the trees beneath them. "But whatever they might send, we can handle together."
"I felt it, too," she whispered, nodding her head below them to the shadows. "It’s not over, is it?"
Servaes’ lips parted with a saddened smile, kissing her deeply as they waltzed across the gardens, through the Italian conservatory, over the tops of endless trees. Hathor sighed, her heart beating forever with his. He didn’t answer her, but they didn’t have a need for words between them.
Pulling in close, Hathor let Servaes whisk her across the moonlit breeze. She closed her eyes, feeling his lips leaning in to kiss her with a mind-blowing passion. There were many questions, but they could only be answered with the future, and it did no good to dwell on them now. As they spun, he swept her away into their eternity and into whatever battle that eternity would hold -- for, come what may, they would fight it and they would be together.
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