“Take a look. It’s for you.”
What’s inside it? she asked Theron, her excitement growing. He simply nudged her forward. She pulled the narrow door open to find a tiny cabin with old paint. What’s this? she asked, disappointed.
It’s a room. It’s private. It has a bed. Take a guess, Theron said kindly, and Elisa blushed as she heard Miguel lower the anchor.
You’ll tell me what to do? she asked, fidgeting with a button on her dress. Tell me what he expects? What he wants?
As soon as he knows himself, Theron confirmed, caressing her mind.
Elisa nodded and took a deep breath to calm the butterflies that had taken flight in her stomach. Miguel slid his hands around her waist and she felt a warmth filling her body. She turned to him, this time with a genuine smile, and led him into the tiny cabin. He pulled her into a kiss and shut the door behind them.
***
Mariah fell to her knees amidst the beautiful flowers, a deep agony ripping through her chest. Something terrible had happened! A fear greater than the pain gripped her silent heart and she rushed to the city, to her old home; if her child was alive, surely he would be there. She knew without thinking right where the nursery would be and rushed in, anxious and hardly able to keep from snapping back to her body.
There, in the darkness, were two cribs. The first held a little girl, peacefully asleep. Lovely though she was, Mariah felt no attachment. She turned quickly to the other. Inside lay a boy, beautiful and perfect, with tufts of dark hair and green eyes. She felt the world shift around her, as though her heart and soul existed solely to love and protect this perfect little baby. She reached for him, but wavered, afraid of breaking the spell when she passed through him. Walking around the crib, she inspected him as best she could. His perfect green eyes stared at her. Then, another wave of dread washed over her as she realized she hadn’t seen him move.
No! she cried out, sinking to the floor. No, no, no, no ….
Just then the boy let out a piercing scream, and Mariah jumped up in joy. To Mariah’s immense surprise, he stood up in his crib, bouncing on his toes, and continued to cry. He was so big! A shadow of memory played before her, as she gazed at her newborn in her arms, so tiny and only a few days old. Álvaro Michael. The name was sweet in her mind and she smiled at him the smile only a mother can give. Mariah went over the time in her head. He had to be at least two years old. Could it really have been so long?
Shhh, don’t cry, she cooed to him, trying to quiet him. I’m here, my angel. She longed to reach out to him, to pick him up, to hold him and to soothe him, and she ached for the time they’d lost. How could she ever have left him? How could she have forgotten? Gently, she put her arms around him, hoping if nothing else, he would feel that she loved him. His screams quieted, but he continued sniffling. The memory of a lullaby came to her and she began to hum it softly. The child lay back down, tucked his blanket under his chin, and drifted back to sleep.
Oh, Álvaro, do you know how precious you are? she asked once she was certain he was out. Just then the door to the nursery swung open and a nursemaid — Mariah’s heart warmed to see her dear friend Muusa — came staggering in, clearly still half asleep. She checked on both the children and, seeing that they were fine, left again. Mariah could not bring herself to leave her son and so sat on a rocking chair and rocked, continuing her lullaby until an urgent hand on her shoulder brought her back to herself.
A smile played on her lips when she opened her eyes. Her heart was light and joy shown from her face. Wuchii’s stood before her with concern on her face.
“The master has returned and wishes to see you,” she said quickly and rushed off to her work.
Even the thought of Sophus could not dampen Mariah’s spirits as she chose an elegant dress, light blue with embroidered brocade, and brushed her hair. She decided to place a comb above her ear and the rest she left unbound, falling in gentle waves down her back. Feeling as though she was walking on air, Mariah put on some matching jewelry and walked with a half-smile to meet Sophus.
“Ah, you look lovely today,” he crooned when he saw her, giving an appraising look.
“Thank you,” she said with genuine warmth, as he took her hand and led her to her accustomed seat, for once not minding his other hand on the small of her back.
“I noticed the terrible mess you made of your dress yesterday and figured that it would not be salvageable, so I have brought you one to replace it,” he said, sounding very pleased with himself as he displayed the new dress.
“Oh, it is beautiful,” she exclaimed, rushing over to inspect it. It was pale ivory silk, cut rather low on the top, and would hug her curves, but she didn’t mind. She liked silk the best; it felt smoother on her skin than any other material.
“Put it on,” he urged. Mariah took it and walked behind a screen he had put up for that very reason. She changed quickly, smiling as she did so.
“It would appear that our little trial the other night agreed with you,” he said conversationally. “I’m glad to see it. So often, after the first one, all young immortals can think of is more blood. Or they turn gloomy and full of angst. That is part of the reason I made you wait so long for your first real taste. I would have been very disappointed to return and find all my fine and carefully cultivated household dead.”
His words broke through Mariah’s joy like a knife in the back. She could have killed them all. She might have, too, though it would not have been for their blood. Not at first. It was the anger she had felt. Had Wuchii or Iráma come even a few minutes earlier, when she had not been totally in control, she might have. The joy of remembering her son had been transcendent, but she would never truly be with him again. Anguish rolled over her as she realized she could not be. She could not be there with the constant reminder of her husband, knowing that he was alive and well. Knowing that he was with that snake Elisa, and not her. But even more, she could not because one day her control would slip and she would take out her rage and frustration on whatever was near. Whoever was near. No, if she loved her son, she would stay away. Her heart shattered beneath the weight of the decision.
Wuchii’s words came back to her. She had freedom, in a way, from her hated form. She could still watch him, if from a distance. It was a paltry salve to her ache, but it was better than nothing.
Mariah forced a smile back on her face as she stepped back into the room. She would use Sophus to get Miguel back, then, perhaps together, they could be with their son. Mariah spun around slowly so that Sophus could appreciate the dress on her.
“You certainly make the dress, mi corazón. It looks splendid on you,” he said, eyeing her up and down. He again put a hand around her waist, and pulled her close. Before she realized what he was doing, he was kissing her neck. Reflexively she pushed against him and he let her go with a laugh and twinkle in his eye.
“That was inappropriate,” she said, crossing her arms angrily.
He laughed and gestured her to take a seat on the couch, which she took. “Don’t be too angry, mi corazón. I got what I wanted.” He held up a lock of her hair and she gasped, reaching up to her head. Running her fingers through her hair, she could feel the small, shortened patch, just behind her ear.
“Will it grow back?”
Sophus laughed. “Women; always thinking first of their looks! No, mi corazón, it will not. I want you to remember that you are permanent, as you are now. Remember this whenever you brush your hair, and take a care for yourself. Now, tell me: what do you think holds detail better, stone or fired clay?”
Sophus tucked the lock of hair into his pocket, and Mariah, with an inward sigh, allowed him to change the subject and joined in the conversation with determination. It would be a long day before she would be able to come up with a reasonable excuse to leave, and she was anxious to see her son again.
Chapter 11
Emelia stared, wide-eyed, at the large beast before her. It snorted its fiery breath and pawed angrily at the dirt. She had
invaded its domain, and surely now it would charge her down and trample her underfoot at any moment. Her heart pounded in her throat. She could flee and save herself, but then the beast would be free to continue its rampage.
Keeping her eyes locked with the wild eyes before her, Emelia courageously reached for her sword and —
“Ahhhhhh!” Her young hero leapt between her and the beast. “I’ll save you, Emelia!”
The creature snorted again and turned away to nibble at the hay in its manger.
“I can do it myself!” Emelia protested as Álvaro pulled her from the stall.
“No, you can’t. You’re a girl, and heroes are never girls,” he said with all the certainty of a five-year-old.
“Well, I can still run faster than you,” Emelia said and darted off.
“No, you can’t!” Álvaro called after her, trying his best to catch up.
They chased each other out of the stables and dashed into the kitchen, Álvaro snatching a roll as they went.
“Álvaro, Emelia, where have you two been?” a sharp voice called them to a halt. They stood still, abashed, while Muusa inspected them. “Playing out in the stables again? We must get you cleaned up at once. There is someone here to meet you.”
The children perked up at the prospect of something new. Perhaps Belo had come to visit with treats, or a new toy. These hopes swirled through Emelia’s mind as Muusa shooed them toward the nursery.
“Who is it, Muusa?” Álvaro asked, but the woman just tsked as she changed their clothes and bathed their faces.
“Tell us a story while we change?” Emelia asked, tugging on the woman’s hand.
“Oh yes, please,” Álvaro joined in, tugging on her other hand. “You tell the best stories. Please?”
Muusa laughed. “Perhaps tonight before bed. We haven’t the time right now, and you have some place to be.”
Álvaro pouted, but Emelia was excited at the promise of a story later. Muusa led them down the hall to Mama’s room, stopping them before the door. Emelia’s excitement grew and she tugged on Álvaro’s sleeve.
“Álvaro,” she whispered as he pulled his arm away. “Álvaro, I think Mama had her baby!”
His eyes widened. “You’re a big sister now!”
Emelia’s heart filled with joy until she thought she’d surely explode. “I have a baby sister to look after!”
Álvaro stuck out his tongue. “There are enough girls. You need a brother for me to play with.”
Emelia tried her best to mind her manners and not respond in kind. Mama was always reminding her that she was a lady, so she pinched him instead. Not too hard, though, because she didn’t like to see him cry.
“Owww,” he said, pulling away from her just as Sophia, Mama’s maid, opened the door.
“Come along, Emelia,” Sophia said, gesturing her forward. Emelia swallowed back her excitement, struggling not to dash into the darkened room to her mother. She hesitated beside the bed where her mother lay, looking frighteningly … wrong.
“Come here mi chiquita,” Mama said with a laugh, patting the bed beside her. “I’m only very tired, but don’t jump on me.”
Emelia scrambled up onto the bed to throw herself onto her mother, relieved to hear her laugh. Mama held her tightly before settling her on the bed beside her.
“Guess what?” Emelia burst out as Mama settled in. “I’m a big sister!”
“Yes you are, my bright little star,” Papa said as he walked into the room with a bundle in his arms. “Would you like to meet her?”
Emelia’s excitement evaporated into timidity as she watched her father so carefully pass the baby to her mother. She hid her face in her mother’s shoulder at first, but her curiosity overcame her fear and she peered into the blankets.
“It’s squished,” she said, wrinkling her nose. That was not what babies were supposed to look like. Mama laughed again and pulled the swaddling back a bit farther.
“Just for now,” she said. “She’ll look better in a few days. You were much the same when you were born, and look how lovely you have become.”
Emelia reached out to touch the baby’s impossibly tiny hands. When she touched it, the baby’s little fingers closed around hers, and she felt her heart swell again with joy.
“Look Mama! She likes me!” Emelia couldn’t take her eyes from the tiny face framed by fuzzy black hair. “Her lips are so red, just like my doll. Can we name her Muñequita?”
Her parents laughed at her suggestion, but Emelia really didn’t mind.
“Would you like to hold her?” Mama asked. Emelia’s eyes widened in astonishment and she nodded. “Be careful. She’s heavier than your dolls, and you’ll need to mind her head.”
Emelia did as they said but her sister held her complete attention. “You still look a little silly,” she told her, “but Mama says you’re going to be beautiful like me. I’ll teach you how to do my hair and I’ll do your hair, and we’ll play dolls and have adventures. I’ll even let you ride my pony.” Emelia paused and pursed her lips, thinking. “But you still need a name since Mama and Papa don’t like Muñequita.”
“Leonora,” Mama said, gently taking the baby back as the infant began to cry. “Her name is Leonora, my sweet Emelia, and you two will be the best of friends, I am sure.”
The baby was interesting, but the room and her parents could be so dull. “Can I go now? I need to tell Álvaro all about my Norita. Where will she sleep? She can sleep with me if she doesn’t cry too much.”
“Go on, then,” Mama said, already absorbed in Leonora.
Papa helped Emelia off the bed and walked her to the door.
“But Papa, where will she sleep?” Emelia asked again.
“She will sleep in the nursery and you and Álvaro will move to new rooms.”
“Can I pick my own room?” Emelia’s mind blossomed with the possibilities and her father chuckled.
“Any in our family wing, mi chiquita. Go on, now. Tell Álvaro and pick some rooms.”
Emelia bolted out the door and ran straight into the waiting Álvaro.
“I have a baby sister and her name is Leonora but she cries a lot and her face is squished and she’ll sleep in the nursery so we get to pick new rooms!” Emelia grabbed his wrist and together they dashed off down the hall, ready for their next adventure.
***
Mikhael stood at the wheel of his new ship, his gaze lost to the horizon. He was pleased with the way she responded to him, the time she made before the wind. Perhaps some day Elisa would show an interest in sailing and, between the two of them, they could take their ship away. How far would they need to go before they could slip the bands of their captor?
The world is not big enough.
Perhaps if they got far enough to sea and a storm came upon them … With enough skill and heart they could surely keep their vessel afloat as the squall carried them out and out. Beyond all contact, out of the grasp of Evil incarnate. They would manage on the fish and hunt shark.
“Miguel?” The voice as sweet as honey spread over his thoughts, slowing them and pulling him back to the reality of his cage.
She stood beside him, touching his arm.
“Miguel, what are you thinking?”
He smiled down at her and covered her hand with his own. He inhaled deeply, and the cleansing breath swirled his thoughts, dissipating them like fog in the sun. Something about freedom ….
“Nothing. Just enjoying the new ship and wondering what she is capable of.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Elisa stretched up to kiss his cheek. “I’ve worked for years to get it for you.”
Mikhael actually laughed at that. “You mean you’ve pestered Theron for years for a piano and our last boat was far too small to have carried it.”
“What’s the difference?” she asked. “I got what I wanted and you benefited from it.”
“I can still hardly believe he let you get something so extravagant.”
Elisa pouted. “He said I’d earne
d it. All that I’ve done for him. Him and you both, all these years. Do you remember what it was like before I joined you? You lived in a cave, like savages!”
“We still live in a cave —”
“It had dirt floors! Thanks to me, we are civilized.”
Mikhael snorted. “We are slaves.”
“We are no such thing!”
Mikhael just shook his head and turned back toward the endless horizon. He could feel Elisa’s agitation as she walked to the rail and turned the opposite way, back toward the shore.
Now look what you’ve done, Theron sniped at him. You’ve agitated my little pet, and she is so needy when she’s upset.
You’ve only just noticed? Mikhael retorted automatically. I will free myself and her from you.
You can be so tedious, Mikhael. Haven’t you realized yet that there is no escaping me?
Without thinking Mikhael spun the wheel, jerking the vessel toward the open sea, the wind caught the sails and lurched them forward.
Theron rose up in his mind, snatching Mikhael’s very being into his claws and dropping him to the deck in agony. Distantly, he heard Elisa cry out.
You will remember your place skylos! Theron held him down, crushing him with his will. You cannot escape what you carry with you.
If I carry you with me, Mikhael barked back, drawing himself into a ball of solid will, it is as a dog carries fleas. You are naught but vermin!
I’ll teach you to entertain ideas of sedition! Theron rose again, poised to strike at Mikhael who braced himself for the blow.
“Stop!” Elisa cried, throwing herself over him, as though her mere physical presence could stop Theron’s mental onslaught.
To his surprise, Mikhael realized that she had succeeded. Theron still held him in a death grip, but had not completed his attack. He waited, anxious, while Elisa spoke silently to Theron. The silence consumed him through the sound of the breeze in the sails, the creak of the boat, and the splash of the waves in the hull.
Finally, Elisa relaxed, and Mikhael felt Theron’s attention return to him.
You will stop the daydreams and thank your sailor’s stars for the woman. Theron dropped him with a parting mental kick. Mikhael flinched on the deck as the cold steel claws removed themselves from his mind. Still in shock from the pain, he remained where he lay, waiting on the edges between himself and … everything.
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