Well, hello there, she said, and he trilled at her, dancing in the air. He darted around her head, and as she turned, she saw in the distance a fire burning, like a large campfire. Her stomach knotted at seeing it. It was waiting for her. The bird fluttered before her eyes, drawing her gaze away. She turned again, trying to follow him, and found herself before a mirror, watching a man—her father—place a necklace around her throat. The necklace was a short strand of pearls with a silver pendant, and inside the pendant hung a red tu’uma stone. Her father was full of both joy and sorrow, as was she, for this necklace had been her mother’s.
My mother was Wayuu, wasn’t she? she asked the bird. That’s what he’s not supposed to know. But why not? The bird dropped down into her palm, and Mariah found herself back in her body, holding the red stone figure.
The reddish gold of the setting sun kissed the cresting waves in the distance. Mariah watched as the ocean birds played among the waves and surf in the golden light. They were so many, and yet when they flew it was with a mesmerizing pattern, the flock turning and twisting. How did one function among so many? How might one survive on its own? They were meant to be together. Rather like people.
Even here, in this separate, hidden place, they came together to form a community. Mariah might have only existed on the outskirts of it, but it was there nonetheless. But you’re no longer really human, she reminded herself. What of vampires, then? Were they meant to be solitary, like the leopards that stalked the jungles of her home? Were there others nearby?
The sun set, and her gaze rose to the emerging stars, watching them as they appeared and brightened. They pulsed and moved, and Mariah felt that if she looked long enough she’d know for sure of the distance between them, as the astronomers claimed.
“Mariah.” A voice pulled her back to herself. Sophus stood beside her, touching her shoulder. With a start she realized that she hadn’t even noticed. “Are they looking back at you yet?”
“No, but if I just looked longer ….” She trailed off, as her eyes returned skyward.
“Let’s go inside,” he said, gently taking her hand and leading her back as the sky began to lighten.
By the time they were seated in his chambers, Mariah’s mind had refocused on where she was. There was something she had wanted to ask him, she was sure. She ran through what she’d done before she’d been distracted by the stars as he began to talk about some book he was reading.
“Are there others?” she asked abruptly, cutting him off.
“I’m sorry?” he asked.
“Are there other immortals around here? Where did you come from, and are there others nearby?”
Sophus set down his book and leaned back. “Where did I come from? What a question.”
Mariah waited for more, but when he remained silent she prompted again. “Well you were human once, obviously, and from Greece.”
“What gave it away? The decor or the cuisine?” he asked, winking at her.
“So what brought you here? How long have you been here?”
“Chance brought me here, and here I have remained for centuries.”
“I see I’ll have to be persuasive,” Mariah said with a faux sigh. She moved to sit beside him, placing a hand on his knee. “Since when have you ever been reluctant to talk about yourself?”
“Because my life story is boring, and I only have interest in things that are not,” he said, covering her hand with his.
“How could a person like you be boring? Tell me a story, Sophus, about how you came to be here.” Mariah pulled her hand back, and gave him an expectant look.
Sophus smiled and stretched out on the couch, turning to face her. “I came here to escape my poor choices in Rome, against which I have already warned you.”
“You’re going to make me dig? Fine, then.” Mariah tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Were you a stowaway, or did you take a job as a deckhand?”
Sophus gave a harsh laugh. “A deckhand? People are stupid, but they’re not that dumb. After months in close quarters, they would have noticed my strength and beauty and envied me for it. Theron and I would no doubt have had to kill them all and try to manage the ship ourselves. Can you imagine how that might have ended?”
Theron? So there was another. “It would certainly have been a turning point for you, no doubt. You might have returned to land, claiming that illness had taken the others.”
“Yes.” Sophus gestured dismissively. “That would have been an option, had one not been seeking escape.”
Mariah thought a moment. Despite a certainty that she’d never really sailed, she remembered visiting the large ocean-faring ships with her father as a child. Surely two men could not manage a ship like that on their own. “How might it have been then, on a large ship, on your own? Imagine if you’d run into a storm — how could a ship like that survive? You must’ve had to abandon it for something smaller and more manageable.”
“Just so. Fortunately we had no trouble with the shortage of supplies. Shark has an exotic flavor.”
“Did you part ways when you landed, then, or was that later?”
“Aren’t you the smart one, getting me to talk?” Sophus laughed again, but his voice grew bitter. “No, Theron kept me close. Very close. Eventually the relationship soured and we had a serious disagreement about his controlling personality. I’m afraid that it ended by my disarming him of that which he used against me. Our relationship has been much better since then, if a bit strained.”
Mariah nodded, and she knew it was time to stop pushing. Gently, she redirected the conversation to safer topics.
Chapter 7
Mikhael walked along the beach in the darkness, Elisa at his side. The transformation had been good to her; she was even more stunning than she had been. He found he could talk to her about anything, and she always understood what he meant. He smiled down at her, thinking how she constantly managed to get her way.
Elisa’s first strength had begun diminishing, her mortal blood supply finally running out, but it had not changed the gleam in her eye nor the bounce in her step. Truly, she was charming in every way. She had even managed to wheedle Theron. As far as he knew, Theron had never even tried to control her physically, though he knew the demon watched her mind as closely as he watched Mikhael’s.
“What are you thinking, Miguel?” Elisa asked, pulling him to a stop.
“I am thinking about how lovely you are in the moonlight,” he said, turning toward her.
“And there is nothing bothering you?” she prodded. Mikhael didn’t respond at first, looking out over the ocean. In truth, something was bothering him. Despite her insistence that he was mistaken, Mikhael was haunted by the memory of a dark angel. “You’re thinking of her again, aren’t you?” Elisa asked, disappointed.
“Yes,” he whispered. He could not lie to her any more than he could to Theron. “She is always there in my mind, a shadowy memory, like a half-remembered dream.”
“Why do you allow this dream to come between us?” Elisa asked mournfully. “Am I not your wife? I am here, now. You loved me enough to come back for me, to fight everything in your nature to not kill me so that I could join you. I died for you, suffering through the agony of the transformation. All this we have done for our love, yet you allow this phantom to keep you from me!” Elisa turned away from him, sobbing with her head in her hands.
“Elisa, sweetheart.” Mikhael suddenly remembered that he had once called her mi morena, and she had flinched away. He still did not remember the meaning of the term, but he had been careful not to use it again despite how right it felt. She was correct, of course. Mikhael turned roughly away from the shadow in his mind and thought he felt an intense pain ripping through his heart. He locked that away, too. He stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, whispering in her ear, “No phantom will come between us, mi amor.”
Elisa turned in his embrace and kissed him.
You little siren, Theron whispered to Elisa, once again clearly i
mpressed by how she managed to control Miguel. Elisa smiled to herself, pleased to please her master.
***
The gentle wind teased at Mariah’s hair as she stood near the edge of the pasture, looking past the cliff into the distance. The far ocean moved in its relentless pattern, but despite its beauty she found herself turning from it to look to the north.
“What do you see there?” Sophus asked when he came for her.
“I don’t know. It’s like there’s something, beyond the hills, waiting for me.” She fell silent and hoped he’d leave it at that. She didn’t want to tell him that it, whatever it was, was always there. It changed over time, ebbing and flowing and relentless like the tides below. Sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker. Sometimes, like now, it was sad. As though her heart would break if she knew … what?
“Have you tried going in your dream vision to see what is there?” he asked.
Mariah shook her head. “I don’t think I could. So far I haven’t been able to go any place in the dream world that I don’t already know. Every time I think I’m someplace new, it triggers a memory, and I realize that it is somewhere I’ve been.”
“You should try to follow it, I think. See where it leads, but be mindful to retire someplace out of the way. It wouldn’t do to have you tumble over the edge.” He put a hand around her waist and gently moved her back from the ledge.
“I thought we were indestructible,” she countered, deftly slipping away from his hand.
“So we are, but your dress is not, and I’m rather fond of that one.” He ran his fingertips down one of the split, blue sleeves.
“Well, I would hate to damage anything you’re fond of.” She covered his hand with hers and fire ran up her fingertips at the physical contact. She wished she had gloves. “Was there something you needed me for?”
“Not yet, I think, mi corazón.” He tucked her arm into his elbow and led her back to the door. “I will be leaving for a few days. I have some business to attend to.”
Both dread and excitement shot through her belly at the news. “Are you sure that is wise?”
“Do you mean am I worried that you will lose yourself and kill everyone here in a fit of bloodlust?” Sophus asked. “No, I am not. A few weeks ago, certainly, but I think as long as you’re careful, you should be all right. I have instructed Iráma to have goat blood ready for you, should you need it. While I am gone, I want you to try to find what this thing that is calling to you is, but be careful. If you sense anything that might be another immortal, stay away from it, and let me know when I return.”
“You’re worried about Theron?”
Sophus turned to her, taking her hands in his. “Yes. I don’t know how his ability would interact with yours, and I don’t want to lose you to him.”
Mariah searched his eyes. He looked genuinely concerned, something Mariah had not thought he was capable of. “All right, I will be careful.”
“Good,” he said as they walked to her door. “If you would be so kind, as well, I would appreciate it if you could walk the halls in your dream vision and see if you can find any more veins of beryl.”
“Of course I will.”
“There’s a good girl. I’ll see you in a few days.” He shut her in her room and, as she listened to him make his way down the hall, she gave a rude gesture to the door.
But he would be gone! Not only would she have uninterrupted time to search her dream world, perhaps she could get some straight answers from Wuchii and Iráma about her past. What had brought her here, and why was there such a need for secrecy?
She found herself facing her northern wall, as sorrow squeezed her heart. She had managed to hide from it for the sake of appearances with Sophus, but now the need was gone, and it pulled her to the floor with its intensity. Reaching into a pocket, she pulled the little tu’uma bird out and let it guide her into her dreams.
The little black and gold bird flitted around Mariah’s head as the whispering breeze tugged at her skirts and set the field to dancing. Mariah’s body sat in the dim cave, her back against the bed. She could see it, feel it, smell it, and it threatened to pull her back from the field. Taking a deep breath, she folded her arms into her lap, shut her eyes, and stopped breathing. As she stilled her body, her mind was able to focus more fully on the vision.
Where to now? she asked the little bird.
Waterstars dance dance dance, the bird teased and disappeared.
Waterstars? Mariah scoffed as she tried to imagine stars dancing in the water. That’s not much—
She cut off her complaint as the scene around her shifted. In the darkness, Mariah looked at stars, dancing on water. No, she corrected, she stood on a dock, looking at lights floating on the water. The floating villages on Maracaibo Lake. She smiled.
The memory of standing here, talking to someone about dreams and life and deep thoughts, came back to her. She couldn’t remember what was said, exactly, but she had loved it. Resting her elbows on the rail, Mariah realized that a figure from her memory stood beside her. He gave the impression of height with a low voice and a comforting presence. Who was he? Mariah turned toward him, but the scene fell away and they were at her home. She was angry with him and the anger was overlaid by the thought that she was being an idiot. Then she stood at the top of a grand staircase, looking down at him as he waited for her, his hair swept back into a neat queue, and for once his clothes were fine, though the boots still broken in. The adoration in his eyes warmed Mariah, and she wondered where his weapons were. Then a viper stood between them, anger and hurt intermingled, then fear and gunshots.
The partial memories assaulted her, coming faster and faster, and though her keen mind could process them, the emotions were full and pounding, overpowering her heart. Safety, adoration, green eyes, a kiss, a teasing smile. Tea with a viper striking out at her from her cup, and he standing between them. The joy and the fear and the rain, a flower in her hair, and a last kiss, and the parting pain. Mariah tried to slow them down so that she could make sense of what she was seeing even as she crumpled from the emotional onslaught. Then, suddenly, it was gone.
Miguel! she cried out, her heart in her throat as she reached for him. He stood before her, a little ways away. He reached back for her, but between them rose the viper, the woman with the sunlight hair.
He is mine, she hissed, throwing herself at Mariah, grabbing her by the shoulder.
Mariah reacted without thought, snatching the wrist and, lunging upward, threw her assailant across the room before dropping into a defensive crouch. A sickening crash, the sound of flesh meeting stone that sounded far too real, made Mariah opened her eyes. To her horror, she was still in her room, but before her, twisted in a shocking way, lay one of the women who lived there. Mariah felt that she should have vomited, but her body remained as stoic as ever. Her first thought was that she was eternally grateful that the woman was not yet bleeding.
Fear rose in her even as the thought of the blood constricted her throat, and before instinct could overcome her, Mariah fled.
“Sophus!” she called out, running through the hall to his chambers. She threw open the door, but he wasn’t there. Desperate, she tried his bedchamber as well, and then through to his throne room, but each were empty.
“Mariah,” a soft voice called to her, and to her relief it was Iráma.
“How long?” she asked, the desperation coloring her voice, and Iráma drew back in fear. “How long has he been gone? How long until he returns?”
“It has been three days. He should be back very soon.”
Mentally Mariah sagged in relief, but her body was after blood and her anxiety only fueled it. Mariah tried taking a deep breath, hoping Iráma’s stench would help quell the bloodlust, but instead she smelled warm and human and—
Mariah held her breath. “Blood,” she managed in a choked whisper as she turned from Iráma, pressing herself into a corner.
Iráma wasted no time, running to get the blood she’d been instructed t
o keep on hand. Mariah focused on the wall beside her, counting off the seconds in her mind, struggling to tune out the cadence of foot beats that turned to heartbeats, echoing through the tunnels. The smell of fear came to her as the alarm sounded and the mortals all fled to their chambers. Not that such things could stop her, Mariah thought. The doors were nothing, like sheets of cloth or layers of skin, so easy to tear away—
No! Mariah slammed down on her mind, trying again to silence it. Instead, she focused on the sounds. Running footsteps down the hall, drawing nearer, and a pounding heartbeat, full of adrenaline but not fear. Iráma stopped several feet away and tossed the water bag full of blood, not even waiting to see if she caught it before retreating.
Mariah caught the bag and tore it open, downing the tepid contents with wild abandon. When she had finished, she held to the bag, clutching it as though it was the key to maintaining her sanity. Thoughts swirled in her head of what if. What if she had returned sooner? What if she had reacted slower, what if Iráma hadn’t been there? What if, what if, what if … Anything to hold her where she was, safely away from the others. Eventually her whirling mind stilled itself to silence, holding as still as her body, waiting.
“What is this?” Mariah had never been so glad to hear his voice. His face appeared before her, and she allowed her eyes to focus on him. His presence had never been so welcome. He could protect her from herself. He could protect them from her. She turned away in shame.
“What happened?” he asked, more gently this time.
She did not respond, but allowed him to help her to her feet and lead her to his chambers. He seated her on her favorite chair, but she would not suffer him to take the now dried bag of blood from her.
“You will stay here?” he asked. She nodded and he walked out, fury in his step.
His fury. The thought began to sink in. She had hurt one of his women. He had trusted her to be able to control herself and she had hurt one of them. He would be furious with her. What might he do, especially if the woman died? The sickening sound of bones breaking as the body had hit the stone wall repeated itself in Mariah’s mind and she shuddered. How could she have done such a thing?
Aeonian Dreams (Zyanya Cycle Book 2) Page 6