“If payment is the issue...” Damien started.
Before he could continue, Randle cut him off. “You misunderstand. Most of the occupants of this area are here because they’ve fled the Northern English and savages. I’m afraid finding anyone willing to brave the return will be a most arduous task. Only one has come forward and he’s a most untrustworthy scoundrel.”
Marie repositioned her ample body and asked, “How so?”
“He seems well bred and never has less coin than needed for a bill. However, he shows up when he feels the urge and no one seems to know where he resides. As if that isn’t enough, he is only available just after dark. I’m guessing he’s a raging drunk. Only a man consumed with drink sleeps all day. If that is what he’s doing.”
Marie traded glances with her husband. To most, a man with those oddities would appear a drunken slacker. But they both knew looks could be terribly deceiving and more likely than not, the man wasn’t human at all.
Damien cleared his throat. “And does this man know of our need and where we are headed?”
“No, of course not. Only that I was interested in finding a guide into the North Country. My employees are never privy to the inner workings of my day, Mr. Stafford. I assure you, as you requested, I’ve kept your needs and business private.”
With the onset of the first vibration, Marie hurriedly grasped Bloodstone. Her quick movement immediately drew her husband’s attention.
Standing, Damien implored his host, “It seems my wife is in need of rest. Is there another room we could continue this conversation in?”
Randle’s eyes raked over her, taking in her suddenly pallid features and the slight tinge of fear around her eyes. “But of course. The room next door is open, let’s move over there and allow the young lady respite.”
As the door closed behind the retreating men, the Bloodstone burst to life, surrounding Marie in brilliant radiance. Without conscious effort, her body instinctually reacted to the magic. Her eyes closed and her head, mouth open, tilted back to allow full access.
A dark cavern surrounded a pitch black pool. One solitary drop of water, in the shape of a tear, hung suspended above the underground pond as if held by invisible hands. Marie felt her breath catch in her chest. Instinct told her that when the tear fell, what came after would be devastating.
Images began to form in the water. Kiana, her mass of unkempt hair dripping with blood, spun in slow circles while laughing manically at the burned corpses of her latest victims. A young boy, no more than ten, cowered at her knees begging to be spared. Kiana grabbed the child’s hair and yanked his head back to peer into his dirt and tear smudged face. “Where is she?” she screamed.
The boy stuttered as he attempted to speak. “I-I d-don’t know who she is.”
Before he could blink, the old Witch had jerked him to his feet and placed a blood-stained knife against his throat. “I will ask once more, boy. Where is she? You should know her well as anyone. She’s your cousin.”
Marie desperately tried to scream at Kiana and force her to let the boy go. She didn’t know half of her cousins, especially the youngest of them. At one time her family had been large and close-knit, but with Kiana’s constant attacks against them, they’d spread out far and wide many years ago. There was no way this child would know her.
Tears poured down the youngster’s cheeks, but unable to give the evil woman what she wanted, he remained silent.
The old Witch hurled the boy to the ground and paced back and forth for a few moments before cackling with glee. “We’ll just see what the blood knows then,” she said as she grabbed his arm and drug him several yards across the village plaza to the alter stone. The knife easily sliced across his tender flesh. Blood oozed from the wound. Before it could drip to the ground, Kiana caught it in her cupped hand and transferred the fluid to the stone. Kiana muttered an incantation and the fluid began to bubble and move about the stone in intricate lines and patterns.
Here and there symbols and letters would form in the macabre liquid. Kiana intensely watched the stone, taking in every detail the blood-spell offered. Every so often, she’d hiss in disgust, “I know this. Show me more!”
Terror gripped Marie’s heart as she recognized and translated the words being spelled out from Gaelic to English: Hannah, Lockheart, Augustine, Americas, and finally Vampire. Although she was fully aware her body remained in the small upstairs room of the Inn, she violently shuddered as the vision grew dark and transformed into another completely unfamiliar landscape.
She floated above a small cabin nestled in the clearing of a vast forest. As her vision zoomed in, she found herself on the front porch peering in through a plate glass window. Inside a young girl, with golden ringlets cascading to her waist, vehemently argued with a tall, raven-haired man. For a moment she wondered what this scene could possibly have to do with future events. What was so unusual about a teenage girl fighting with her father?
When the girl completely lost her temper and threw a book against the wall, Marie gasped. Not at the temper tantrum, but at the dent the book left in the wood plank it hit. Suddenly the girl spun and hissed at the man. Identical fangs protruded between her perfectly pink lips. The man bellowed, “I’m sick of all this ghost talk. You and your William need to grow up. Read a book, learn something! Try to become a useful member of society.”
Once again, Marie’s vision grew dark and she stood in the cavern watching the suspended tear over the pool. A multitude of chattering voices filled the cave making it nearly impossible for her to focus on any one voice and what was being said. Frigid winds whipped around her flailing her hair in every direction as the intensity of the voices grew.
“Stop!” Marie screamed. “I can’t understand you!”
As the onslaught of voices and air died down, Marie felt a presence at her side. Slowly turning her head, she saw her mother standing at her side.
“My love, you must find the dark-haired Vampire before the Harvest Noon. You must entreat him to watch over our descendants. In the end, he is the only one who can save the last. His love for her will keep her safe,” Edana whispered.
Tears spilled down Marie’s cheeks as she spoke. “You are gone from me then?”
Edana smiled sadly and shook her head. “Never, my love. Never gone, always I will be with you. Fulfill the task. Be certain the stone will remain with your child and her children after. From your line on, there will only be one. It is the blessing and curse of the Bloodstone magic.”
As her mother faded from view, Marie closed her eyes. When she finally opened them again, she found herself back in the upstairs room of the Inn. Pulling up the hem of her skirt, she dabbed the hot tears from her eyes and cheeks.
They were all gone. But not just her own family; if the vision was accurate, the Lockhearts had paid dearly for their help. An unfathomable, completely terrifying price. And how in the world could she ever bring herself to tell them?
Chapter ThreeThe gentle touch of her husband’s hand on her shoulder roused her from an uneasy rest. Her eyelids, heavy and swollen from weeping, fought against her as she forced them open.
“Darling, if you are well enough, we’ve been invited to dine with the Lockhearts this evening. Hannah wishes us to stay in their home instead of rooming here at the Inn.”
At the mention of the girl’s name, memories flooded back and haltingly, Marie relayed the visions to Damien.
Jaw clenched in anger, he paced the room as she spoke. Even after she had finished retelling the tale, he continued walking back and forth. Several minutes passed before he broke the silence. “We cannot pass this information along. If it is as Edana says and our time is limited to the Harvest Moon, we must find this Vampire and his consort right away. Without the Lockheart’s help, I fear we will not make it in time.”
Taken aback at her husband’s grim logic, Marie struggled to lift her cumbersome body from the sofa. “We have no right to keep this to ourselves. Whether they continue to assist us or
not, they have already paid dearly for such a small part in this undertaking.”
Damien stared at her, his expression continuously revolving from anger to worry and back to anger again.
Laying her hand against his well-muscled chest, she spoke softly. “My love, we can expect nothing but backlash if we abandon the primary law of magic. Harm none, do what ye will, remember? We have already inflicted immense injury, whether intended or not.”
Sighing in defeat, he leaned down and pressed his lips against her brow.
***
Marie tried desperately to smile and nod while Hannah chattered away about local society, balls, and the city’s most eligible bachelors. The men had excused themselves some time ago to retire to the library for brandy and cigars. At times Hannah’s words filtered through her thoughts and worries, causing her to feel as if she’d somehow stepped out of reality altogether and had somehow ended up in a dream.
Finally, after what seemed like several hours, both Damien and Randle returned. Lockheart’s forced smile belied the haggard look in his eyes as he spoke. “Dear Sister, I imagine our friends are in need of a good night’s rest.”
Hannah’s face clouded with worry and embarrassment. “Oh yes, of course!” Leaning across the table, she squeezed Marie’s hand and smiled. “Do forgive me, won’t you? It’s been ages since I’ve had the occasion to speak from the heart.”
Marie returned her smile and nodded. “It is nothing. You are good company.”
Randle cleared his throat. “Well then, we’ll see you at breakfast. Seven o’clock sharp.” Try as he might, he couldn’t quite keep the harshness from his voice.
Hannah immediately focused on his face scrutinizing every detail. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
Lockheart ran his hand over his stubbly chin. “Nothing. I’m just overly tired. It’s been a terribly long day.”
Hannah locked eyes with him for a moment, before finally smiling and excusing herself. “Good night. I’ll meet you in the morrow.”
***
“What do you mean he isn’t going to tell her?” Marie challenged. “That is completely unfair! He has no right to keep it from her.”
Damien’s eyes raked over his wife. Dressed in a pristinely white nightgown and propped against a multitude of pillows in the luxuriously overstuffed bed, she most certainly had a queenly appearance. Unable to quell his smile, he replied, “Darling, it’s not our business what Randle chooses to tell his little sister.”
“Darling,” Marie tossed back with scathing sarcasm, “she is a grown woman and deserves the truth.”
Sighing, he sat on the side of the bed and laid back, his long legs dangling to the floor. Taking a few moments to inspect the rather ornate tapestry canopy covering the convenience, he carefully chose his next words. “Randle believes it best for her to remain in the dark while he plans their escape. Her knowledge of the events would only hamper the process of quickly disappearing. He will tell her when her safety is no longer in question.”
Marie’s mouth drew to the side as she contemplated her husband’s words. “It will have to do, I suppose. I imagine it would be easier that way.”
Damien nodded and continued to stare at the tapestry above. Burgundy with embossed gold vines and flowers, it had an unexpected soothing effect.
“He took it well then? He seemed quite in control of himself considering.”
“Under the circumstances, quite well. Many of his relatives are already in this country. He and Hannah are the only ties to them on this side of the Ocean. They are the last of their bloodline, with their disappearance their lineage is secured.”
Marie slid her foot out from beneath the covers and pushed against his side. “Come up here and hold me. It seems I only find comfort in your touch these days.”
Damien’s lips spread into a sad smile. “Anything you need, my love. Anything you need.”
***
Fifteen days into traveling the primitive rugged paths considered roads in those parts, Marie felt the onset of labor. Although Damien forcibly argued their need for respite, she pressed him to continue on until she could no longer take the rigorous journey. The next morning, guideless, and a scant two weeks from their journey’s end, she finally conceded it was time to make ready for the birth of their child.
Intent on the delivery of her child, Marie paid no attention to her husband as he quickly moved around the tree cosseted clearing placing wards around their make-shift shelter. It seemed that before one contraction could diminish, another would take its place.
An unnatural silence blanketed the surrounding forest, as if the whole of nature anxiously awaited the arrival of the newest member of the magical community. Only the sound of an occasional hushed moan and the crackling fire could be heard.
The moment Damien completed his task, he joined her on the blanket by the bonfire. Unable to mask the worry on his face, he took her hand. “Something is wrong. The child should have come by now. I do not know whether I should try to find help or stay here with you.”
Marie bent her chin to her chest and grunted, “Stay. It is too late.” Pushing with all her might, she collapsed against the hard earth the moment the pain subsided.
Kneeling over her, her husband roughly clapped his hands and vigorously rubbed them together.
“N-No,” Marie stuttered through another body encompassing convulsion. This time was different than the countless pangs before. Simultaneously she felt a pop deep down inside her and let out an ear splitting scream.
A tear slipped down Damien’s cheek as he ignored her plea to forsake the use of magic and began chanting. Within his hands a blue fire immediately flared to life. As he slowly opened them, the light formed into a brilliant orb, growing in size and intensity with every passing second. When it reached the size of her ample stomach he flung the glowing sphere at her midsection and began chanting.
The magic penetrated her clothing and skin with ease and filled her entire frame with its luminescence. In conjunction with the magic within her, the Bloodstone activated, enveloping her in a protective glow. She gasped as the pain receded and the vision took hold.
Unlike the previous experiences, this time she did not leave her body. Instead, her mother and Grandmother appeared kneeling at her side.
“Hush, Child,” her Grandmother whispered. “This child’s birth, and that of those to come, was decreed not long after the world came into being. She is to be filled with magic. Not just from our bloodline, but also from that of your husband’s. The first to enter the world mixing Druid and Cailleach blood.”
Marie struggled to speak, but the next contraction arrived, causing her body to seize.
“Push, Darling,” Edana encouraged. “Push with all your might. The magic has righted the child now, she will come soon.”
Sweat soaked her as she gave into natural instinct and allowed her body to do the work.
Edana’s cool hand pressed against her daughter’s cheek, infusing her with peace and love. Bending over, she whispered in Marie’s ear, “This is the last one, Dearest. Hard as you can now.”
Marie clasped her hands behind her knees and managed to pull back and push at the same time. Her accompanying bellow shredded the facade of stoicism she’d struggled to maintain. With the first cry of her newborn baby, the visions of her mother and Grandmother faded into nothingness.
“It’s a girl!” Damien cried. “A beautiful, healthy lass.”
Tears trickled down her face as she finally caught sight of her precious infant. Wresting her gaze from her daughter’s cherubic face, she met her husband’s eyes. “We shall name her Hope, for in her lies the hope of our bloodlines.”
***
Even with all the healing magic Damien could muster, it still took a full three weeks for Marie to heal enough to make the last segment of the arduous journey into the North. Armed with only their magic, and the knowledge the Bloodstone had given, they headed toward a heavily forested area 100 miles North West of Boston.<
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Six days later, and only two weeks before the Harvest Moon, the Bloodstone once again ignited. Although Marie had taken great pains to secure the pendant to Hope’s bundling, she remained closely bound to the magic and felt the thrum as it activated. Wrapping her hand around the already warming heliotrope, a vision promptly secured her senses.
Hovering just a foot away, a yellowed parchment began to unroll. At first there was nothing to see, but as she watched lines began to surface and form into letters that spelled the words Arracht Ollphéist in pulsating red. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the words that roughly translated into Monsters.
Underneath, new lines formed, squiggling and wiggling their way down the middle of the old parchment, constructing a map of the American East Coast. Here and there across the magic drawing, tiny red dots sprouted. One or two here and there and blotches that looked like fifty or more in other places. Finally, about 100 miles outside where Boston should be, and fairly close to one of the largest red splotches, three of the spots pulsed with the same intensity of the map’s heading. Above it, a small black X appeared.
Marie was certain those spots represented the Vampire they were looking for. As the map became more detailed, she became positive. Above each dot and cluster, small shapes formed into wolf heads, fangs, and even some figures completely unfamiliar.
About a half inch down from the black X, three dots with a rune stone over them, moved toward the pulsating spots.
Marie gasped again as the apparition faded away.
“What happened?” Damien asked.
“I know exactly where to go. The stone showed me a map with their exact location. This is going to be more difficult than we anticipated.”
Damien laughed and rolled his eyes. “My darling, what could possibly be more difficult that searching for and locating Vampires?”
Marie’s lips drew into a thin line.
“Well?”
“Vampires who happen to live next to an enclave of werewolves. From the looks of it, there could be hundreds.”
The Bloodstone Oracle (The Dark Gifts Companions) Page 2