Sheridan stood tall and returned to her former CEO self. The tone of her voice was firm, determined and full of resolve. “And we’re going to use ExsanguiNation to do it.”
Chapter Fifteen
The sun blazed its final crowning flags of color while the moon crested over the edge of the balcony revealing its mysterious crescent. I noticed several bats fly past the patio, and Beano took an interest in trying to catch them.
Had a a shift in consciousness occurred within me? I knew I needed to get out of this funk and make something happen. We needed to move on. To heal, and my anger wasn’t going to make it happen.
“Sheridan is right.” I swiveled in my seat and put my elbows on the bar behind me. “If we don’t channel this ridiculous hate and blame for something productive, then the bad guys win. Amicula and the queen will have destroyed us mentally and emotionally, instead of physically. We can’t give up. We can’t just roll over and accept this hand of fate the Norns have handed us. We need to write our own destinies and do what’s right. I’m sorry—I’ve been a jerk.”
Sheridan continued her agenda with a gentle kindness. Single-handedly, she was successfully diffusing the scritchy energy and helping everyone relax. “Let’s just think out loud here for a few minutes. Khaldon has a solid point, he really does. If we can’t tip off any local paranormal authorities without risking our own hides, then can we give anonymous tips to the human FBI? That might be a way to get the women out of the breeding dens at least.” She picked off the anchovies and bit into the cheesy goodness of her pizza slice. “Isn’t there a Supernatural police department? Some of my favorite urban fantasy book characters are cops, detectives, and bounty hunters for paranormal worlds. We’ve got to have a form of protective force we can call on for help, right?”
Torchy raised his glass acknowledging my question. “Yes, there is an International Interspecies Council, but they rely on each group to take care of their own kind first. In other words, we have the Draconian Council for dragons, and the vampyre has the Queen’s Council.”
“But that’s just it, what if those councils are corrupt? Who holds them in contempt?” I asked.
Harris shrugged. “We’ve not really experienced that before. Everyone keeps to themselves, and they let the area packs handle the situations.”
“Okay, for months now, you guys have told me about the old wars between the vamps and werewolves.” I pointed toward my home office down the hall. “You even spoke about the war on our Friday team meeting, remember? Who settles those disagreements? Are you telling me no one helps keep the peace?”
They looked at me, and then they glanced at one another and then back at me as though they were keeping a secret or were at an utter loss to answer my question. Everyone was so hard to read with the overwhelming scents of emotions in the air. Or maybe it was the stench of werewolf musk clouding my thoughts.
“Usually, it’s the local lord and lady and pack masters. Squabbles are settled.” Khaldon responded, finding a way back into the conversation after my attacks.
I offered him an embarrassed smile. I needed to say what I did, but I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, especially him.
“Okay, so we dinnae have any answers for now.” Torchy tried to follow suit and give Sheridan the moral support she was rallying for earlier. “We’ll cross that battlefield when we get there. Let’s focus on what we can change today.”
“Torch is right. This is a bigger problem than we can solve right now. We need to explore options and find a solution soon.”
“Agreed—three hundred percent. I’ll see what I can figure out and I’ll talk privately to Lord Stovall about what options might be available to us. We’ll find a way, Chey.” He reached out and gently took my hand. “I’m not sure this is the right time, but I need to leave for a while to go get the M’lady from the Andamans.”
“What? You’re leaving again? So soon?” I stammered and looked down at my feet knowing he probably needed to be away from all the chaos too. It wasn’t as though he were my husband. Most boyfriends would have flown the coop by now. If I were honest with myself, I’m not sure I would have stuck around if the situation had been reversed.
Khaldon ticked his head out toward the edge of the patio. “Can I talk to you alone for a few minutes?”
We picked up our drinks, and he hoisted a leather satchel from the floor up over his shoulder. He lifted the bag and placed it onto the chaise lounge grouping where we sat. Khaldon reached into the bag and pulled out an old book. “I’m sorry, Cheyenne. I don’t want to leave, but we both have a lot to work through. I think it would be best to just to have a time-out and we both sit in our own corners for a few weeks. We’re going through some bloody dark shite and it’s best we allow ourselves some time to heal the emotional wounds. It’ll all work out soon enough.You have my word. But while I’m gone, I wanted to give you my copy of The Canons.”
I nodded, and with a heavy sigh, offered him up a smile that said, You’re right; we need a time-out, and accepted the book. It was long overdue for me to spend quality progress in it. It was a well leather-worn, dog-eared, water-stained tome. It must have been ancient.
“Reach out to me if you have any questions, and I’m sure you’ll have plenty. As far as I am aware, Lord Stovall is still local on his yacht, The Resurrection, so he can help you too.”
I gave him a half-hearted smile and tried to avoid giving him the guilt-ridden puppy dog eyes.
He reached out to me and pulled me in close. His touch seemed foreign, but I relaxed and lowered my guard. I wanted his touch to feel safe again, even if it was for just a moment.
“I love you, Cheyenne. It’ll take a bit of time to get the M’Lady back to port in Dubai. I’ll be gone for a few weeks, possibly over a month. You should be here to complete your research.” He tried to give me a quirky thin-lipped grin.
I nodded my head and halfway appreciated the reprieve. “I’m sorry too; it’s not fair that I’m dumping all my anger and grief out onto you. I’m such a toad.”
“Well I don’t know about that, my sweet lass. But you’re right. I should have called in Vhal and the guys. I honestly didn’t think it was going to be that big of a deal, and I was wrong. I’m not sure if I’ll ever forgive myself because of it. It’s quite possibly the worst mistake I’ve made in my life.” He kissed my forehead and the touch of his lips radiated a clear message. “I can fully understand why you’re angry with me as I hold myself to the same account.” He kissed my hands and pointedly waited for my reaction.
I didn’t respond. Sometimes words weren’t needed and spoke the message loud and clear. I gave him a flat smile and squeezed his fingers.
He kissed them again and held them close to his chest. “You need time reading, testing, learning who you are. You’ll find balance. I have faith you’ll awaken your inner vampire on your terms. I need time to analyze a few things in my own life. I’ve grown too complacent over the past few decades, and I need to reconnect to my own inner vampire as well.”
“You mean, you don’t feel complete? Like something’s not right inside you?”
“Exactly that, Cheyenne. I can’t quite put my finger on the sodden thing either. I’m hoping this time on the ship will help me rediscover a few things about myself as well.”
He reached into the satchel again and pulled out the oilcloth I’d seen in the hospital. “I tried hanging this in my house, but it doesn’t glow anymore. I wanted to see if this orb still reacted to you.”
I stared at him in surprise and had forgotten about the damn thing. Inching my hand toward it, I cupped it with my palm. Immediately, the orb hummed and turned a neon green once again. I stared up at Khaldon. The verdant light glowed with such intensity, it shined off his bronzed skin.
“Why did you bring it here? I don’t want it.” My heart raced once again. It disturbed feelings of overwhelming anxiousness deep inside me.
“But here’s the rub. I think it wants you.” His eyes stared so deep into mine that I al
most fell over from the dizzying spell.
“I can’t find anything about it in any lore or legend, nor how it would have been on that island to begin with.” He opened the orb from the confines from the rest of the cloth and held it up closer to our faces. “There’s nothing written about it or where it came from.”
I swallowed hard and immediately covered it with my hands. “Don’t! Please, put it away. I don’t want anyone knowing we have it.” I shoved it back in the bag. “We can look at this later?” I turned to look at the rest of the gang and they weren’t paying any attention to us. “In private?”
“Fair enough. I think we both could use a little private time.” He pulled me in close to him intoxicating me further with his frankincense.
My heart ached knowing it would be an extended period until I saw him again. We needed to reconnect before he left. “Will you come to Dakota and Teagan’s memorial in Montana? Sheridan is having the marble statue commissioned and it will take about six to eight weeks to complete. So we’re thinking about sometime in late March or April.”
“Of course I’ll be there.” He took my hand and placed it over his heart. “You’ll always be right here, Cheyenne. That will never change.”
His eyes lit up. “I almost forgot. There’s something else before I go, but I’ll understand if you don’t want them. Just a trinket really.” He let go of my hand and reached down into his satchel once again. He held a small box and placed it into my palm.
I sucked in a breath, not sure of what to think. He’d never given me anything in a jewelry box before in our real lives. As a digital avatar character, he had given Lady Cazenove many things but this was the first time in this reality. I opened the little black velvet container, revealing two ruby teardrops surrounded by white diamonds. I stole a quick glance at him from under my curls. “Umm—just a trinket, huh?”
“Well, I was going to get you the matching bracelet, but I know how much you curse them when you code, so it’s only the earrings.”
I fully looked up at him and smiled, accidentally hiccupping a brandy burp in his face. “I love them.”
“That’s m’lady!” He slid my arms up around his neck, and I wanted to hide my embarrassment into his shoulder. My nerves were edgy and raw. My emotions were all over the place. Listening to the quiet rhythms of his heart beating, I knew the decisions we’d made were the right ones and one day everything would work out.
At least, that’s what I wanted to tell myself.
After experiencing how much we had lost over the past few weeks, it was time to recoup and I was determined to do everything it took to learn more about who I was and make peace with it. At this point in my life, I had no idea how I would do it, but I knew I had four distinct goals to meet:
To read The Vampyric Canons and embrace my inner vampire dynamics.
Identify the locations of the illegal blood orchards and breeding dens.
Search and destroy whoever was behind Dakota’s death.
Identify my rogue vampire attacker and annihilate him.
Somehow, on a transcendental level, I knew all of those goals were connected. In time, the answers would come, but for now I needed to seek balance and ask the right questions. I needed to train and hone my new skills. It was time to prepare. Time to heal. But most of all, it was time for me to discover who I truly was.
When the day comes, I will be ready to seize my own destiny and no longer fall prey to it.
Chapter Sixteen
Wolf Creek, Montana
Late March
Aisling O’Cuinn
Aisling O’Cuinn, the mother of three of the most vivacious daughters on the planet, stood stoic and silent as she observed the cemetery crew erect the marble memorial on the family plot where she was supposedly buried. A crisp Montana morning sky promised a brilliant sun-filled service on the day of Dakota and Teagan’s memorial.
Mother Nature blessed the event with six inches of angelic, new snow blanketing the land in an etheric peace. Reflecting the radiant crimson, orange, and pink hues in the morning sky, the pine trees seemed to bow in respect as lumbering icicles hung from their branches. The red-breasted robins, along with the black and white magpies, sang their morning greetings. A great gray owl softly whooed her lamented lullaby as she drifted to sleep after her nightly hunt.
Spring threatened, as it always did in March, to tease with warmer days and then pummel again with below freezing temperatures at night. The mountain residents of Wolf Creek, Montana, were greatly adept at living in this frigid weather, knowing they couldn't plant their gardens safely until the second week of June.
The Rocky Mountain terrain guaranteed a blizzard the last week of April. Inevitably, they would receive a light dusting of snow the week before planting. Any day in between was fair game from zero to fifty degrees, especially on the Flying F Ranch just north of Wolf Creek, with its vast acres of open terrain.
Aisling silently shape-shifted into a tree nymph, staying out of sight among the evergreen pines. Sheridan had commissioned a winged angel with Dakota’s face, holding an infant in her arms. The angelic, marble statue simply stole her breath away. The child reached up and touched the lips of her weeping aunt. Stunning, the memorial told their tragic stories. The longer Aisling looked at the statue, it somehow left her with a sense of hope that her daughter and granddaughter were safe and happy together.
One by one, the mourners arrived to stand at the gravesite and pay tribute to the family. Aisling spied through her branches while her cousin, Maisie MacCarthy, and her family drove up alongside the other vehicles in time for the service. Upon seeing the memorial, Abbey MacCarthy, Charles and Maisie’s daughter, wept at the foot of the statue of her beloved cousin.
At a remote and concealed distance, Aisling had watched the family over the past six weeks. She was careful to maintain a cloaked presence as to not tip them off she was nearby. She had been dead to them for nearly nine years now, ever since the Vampyre Queen Civetateo had called in her blood oath to the throne. To reveal herself would mean instant death to her entire family.
Aisling’s thoughts followed each person standing in the reception line of the service. Each one of her family members showed their despair in myriad ways.
Kiernan. Her beloved husband. How she missed him and ached to reveal herself to him. He had involved himself in taking care of his new grandson, hauling hay and feed for the cattle on the Flying F Ranch, and had found out he liked to blow glass in the hot shop. He spent his quiet nights in the blissful mind-meld of Aisling’s embrace. She knew he would wake dreaming of her, but not quite remembering if the encounter was real. He once told her, when she allowed him a lucid moment, that he had learned to keep his mouth shut about her since no one believed him. He knew they would force him to see doctors, spend weeks at the loony bin, and make him take more drugs to alleviate the hallucinations. She kept her distance, allowing him more time to heal between her feedings.
Sheridan’s newfound dragon boyfriend, Torchy Gravenor, was someone Aisling would need to learn more about. He seemed to be an astute businessman and an attentive caretaker to both Sheridan and Khai. As a mother, she wondered if Sheridan was handling the dragon aspect of the relationship in stride. Dragons always were a passionate species. Especially Scottish dragons. Aisling thought about it and wondered if perhaps she could send an anonymous book about the peculiarities of dragons.
Aisling approved of Cheyenne’s boyfriend. She liked Khaldon Seters and had heard of his lineage many times before from Queen Civetateo. The queen desired Khaldon to father an elite line of assassins for the throne, but he had turned down her offer. That defiance endeared Khaldon to her liking even more.
The boy Cheyenne room-mated with in college also stood in the family memorial service line. Harris Archer could have been the son she never had. He was like a brother to the girls, and she made an extra effort to watch over him and communicate with the Werewolves for his protection.
There was another man with her fa
mily, Tony Briggs. She had not known of this man, but his energy and thoughts surrounded Dakota. Aisling learned his draconian clan had a French heritage.
How did her girls manage to get mixed up with the supernatural community? She and Kiernan tried to keep them away from their birthright and raise them as normal, human girls for as long as they could.
Quite a clan they all were. Aisling absorbed the love among all of them as her family stood in a semi-circle around the marble statue.
Bouquet upon bouquet of fresh flowers were laid at the feet of the angel while people she once knew, and many others she did not know, came out to express their condolences.
A black limo pulled up among the pickup trucks and SUVs. It looked as out of place as a pink hippopotamus in the Montana mountains. A driver opened the back door of the limousine as a pair of high-heeled boots presented themselves to the ground.
Sliding out of the limo, Amicula Darkrose was draped head to toe in solid white, complete with a mourning veil covering her hat and face. Aisling sucked in a breath and almost walked out from the trees to stop her. From her tree nymph disguise, her branches curled, causing her dried leaves to fall from the limbs. Amicula walked past the tree, apparently without noticing Aisling’s disguise.
Everyone fell silent as they looked at the outlandish woman approaching the memorial. Encumbered with several bouquets, Amicula first paid tribute to Aisling’s gravesite next to the marble statue and laid down a spray of red roses.
No one in the crowd said a word, but they stared intently at the odd stranger.
Sap ran down the bark of Aisling’s tree nymph trunk as her tears freely flowed. This was the last thing her family needed after having a few weeks of respite and peace. They were finally beginning to heal.
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