The Dark Gifts Birthright

by Willow Cross

  “Soon, I hope.”

  “But if I need you, you’ll be at our house, right?”

  “Yes, baby. I love you.”

  “I love you too!”

  Cass opened a portal and took them through to their cabin. The cabin might not have been the safest destination, but it was the only place they could be truly alone.

  Nestled in the woods of the Ozark Mountains, the cabin was miles away from human beings. Cass felt good being in her own home again. She had missed the place sorely, and even with Jenna’s absence, she felt at peace in her mountain refuge. Cass spent the first few nights teaching Dan what he needed to know to remain safe and keep the secret. She also saw to it that he started his immunization to daylight immediately. With any luck, being newly-made, he would acquire this immunity as quickly as Liz. Surprisingly, she could already handle sunlight for thirty minutes at a time. Thirty minutes doesn’t sound like much, but to a vampire who sees nothing but the darkness of night; it is a gift to surpass all others.

  While Cass and her husband were away, the Council returned to business. There was still a battle to be fought and won. The renegades were still out there killing innocent people. The Council, in its entirety, wanted to avoid using time portals. It was forbidden. Having already made the mistake of teaching too many how to create ordinary portals, they needed to make certain no one “accidentally” discovered they could be used to travel through time. They needed to find the main renegade army and gather intel, but they still did not have any idea how to go about doing it. They finally caught a break when a visitor arrived at the Citadel.

  For two nights the sentries, and Michael, watched the man camped just to the south of the Citadel. During the day, the witches took over; his whereabouts were known at all times. He was still more than three miles away, and although he wasn’t moving any closer, he wasn’t leaving either. He was definitely human, they could tell that much, and aged from the appearance of him. Everyone in the castle was directed to be aware of him and stay away. Even hunting in that part of the forest was off limits. The man had entered their domain quietly without any fuss, and set up a camp. Michael was trying to figure out if he was just a human camping, or worse, they had been found and he was bait.

  The man gave no tell tale signs to what he was about. He neither hunted nor fished. He had built a large fire that he kept going at all times, as if he were trying to gain someone’s attention or possibly to keep something away. For hours each day, the man would sit and write in a small notebook, only looking up for a few seconds as if in deep thought.

  On the third day, the man started behaving oddly. He walked in circles around the fire, talking to himself. The witches notified Michael immediately, but as it was during the day, he could not venture out to see what was going on. With an energy that seemed far too lasting for a man of his age, the old man continued to walk the fire throughout the rest of the day. Stopping only periodically for a rest, he would continue walking and quietly talking. At sundown, Michael was at the man’s camp.

  Standing just outside the man’s line of sight, Michael listened to what he was saying. He couldn’t place whatever language the man was speaking. The words were completely unfamiliar, but the tone’s and inflections, had an almost musical sound. Michael had watched for an hour, when the man suddenly came to a stop and gazed into the fire. He seemed to be looking for something within the flames that shot up high into the darkened sky, then quickly turned and motioned to Michael to look into the fire.

  Michael was dumbfounded; there was no way the man could possibly know he was there. Again, and much more impatiently this time, the man waved his arm and motioned to Michael to join him by the fire. Michael remained still and quiet.

  Finally, sounding a bit irate, the man spoke to him, “Don’t just stand there, boy! Get over here and have a look! I’ve been at this all day, and don’t have no time for tom foolery. Besides that, you’re gonna miss the best part!”

  Michael entered the camp warily, not knowing what to make of the situation. The old man motioned to him to hurry, and peered back into the flames. Staying several feet away from the kooky old timer, Michael peered into the flames. Instantly, shapes began to form in the fire. Fascinated, Michael leaned in closer to get a better look.

  First, a baby crying in its mother's arms, and then the shapes took the form of several people having an argument. As one scene dissolved, another one took its place. The fortress in the flames, first whole, then collapsing. Then the Citadel and the battle with Sekhmet, changing into the arrival of the other vampires and the settling of the occupants. Then he saw Cass creating the time portal and going back with Liz to save Dan and Jenna. The flames went black for a few seconds.

  Michael gasped as the color of the flames returned, showing him a vast army. Michael knew that it was the renegade army; he could see them prepared to battle those at the Citadel. They were outside the castle, fully armed, swords raised above their heads in triumphant rage. Quickly, the shapes changed again. The baby and mother reformed in the flames. She held the child close. Her body trembled as tears of blood dripped down her face.

  While he watched, the baby grew into a child, and then on into a woman. The child had to be Jenna. The beautiful woman wore a crown of gold upon her head. Behind her, another army appeared. Michael, afraid to speak for fear he would miss something, stood quietly watching, and waited as the shapes shifted again. The flames flickered and twisted before shooting up into the air revealing another scene. Bodies filled an open pit. So many, that several hung over the sides. Human bodies. The fire crackled and leapt into the air. When it settled down, the images had disappeared. Michael stared into an ordinary fire.

  Michael‘s eyes left the fire and rested on the man. “Who are you?”

  The man chuckled and said, “My name is Brogan, son, and what you saw is your destiny ifin your Council don‘t fix what’s been done.”

  Michael was confused, obviously the man didn’t know as much as he let on, because Michael was far from young. He looked the man in the eye and proceeded to mesmerize him to get the information he wanted.

  Brogan laughed again, and spat into the fire. Turning to walk over to the stump he had been writing on the two days previous, he said, “That don’t work on me, boy. I’m older than the hills and seen that a few times. Now get over here and cop a squat. We’ll do some chit chat, and see what we can come to.”

  Michael walked to where Brogan sat and waited for him to continue.

  The old man took out his notebook and leafed through the pages. “Nope, not this one. Not this one either. Hmmm, where did I put that consarned thing?” He stopped in the middle of the notebook pointing to the page. “Ah there is it. Sit down, boy! I’ll get a crook in my neck ifin I have to look up at ya. What we got here son, is an old fashioned, oh shitter. Ya’ll got busy doing what ya’ll been doing up there, and didn’t take no time to think about things like time lines and destiny, and ya’ll got us in a real pickle now.”

  The old man kept looking at his notebook as he spoke, waiting for Michael to take a seat. “Ya see right here on this page? That’s the alignment of the stars, and this here ‘quation? That’s the way things might be if …right here this one? Sit down!” Looking up at Michael, he sternly said, “I’ll not tell ya again, son. Ifin ya wants my help, then ye’ll kindly sit down so’s we can chat proper like.”

  Michael hesitated, still thinking the old man must be crazy.

  Brogan looked at the sky and almost whispered, “Ya ain’t got much time, son, daylight is coming and I’ll not be goin up in that place with all the rest of them blood-suckers.”

  Michael sat down quickly then. The man might be nuts, but he knew something, and it was Michael’s duty to find out what.

  “Now that’s better, aint it? Okay, as I was sayin-- scoot over here so’s you can see now-- this here ‘quation that’s the one that’s the trouble. See here, that’s not supposed to be there, and it weren’t there, til
l ya’ll up and done what ya done up there with the time line.” The old man shook his head and made a ticking noise with his mouth.

  Michael ventured to ask him a question, “If I may sir, would you mind telling me how you came to know about us, and who you are?”

  “I done told ya my name boy, but I’ll tell ya again ifin your deef. My name is Brogan, and I’m trying to tell ya that these here ‘quations of mine is what told me something’s wrong with the whole world now, thanks to you and them folks up there. Now I knows that ya’ll aint like them others, and I knows that ya’ll means well, but that don’t change nuttin. What’s done is done, and now we got to fix it. Ya’ll just can’t go changing time lines and think that nothings gonna happen, and that young girl up there weren’t meant to be no vampire queen. That girl were meant for something far bigger than that!”

  “You’re speaking of Jenna then?” Michael asked rubbing his hands nervously on his knees. He didn’t know whether to sit there and listen, or get up and walk away.

  “Don’t know what her name is, son, but her and that other gal’s time lines got messed up a few years back when one of your folks, one of the bad un’s that is, put his nose into business what aint his.” Brogan leaned in to take a good look at Michaels face. He watched him closely as he said, “Look here, ya’ll got to go back and fix what ya did. It weren’t the savin of the child and the man that did it. It were something else. Now I’m still trying to figure out what they all did back there, but it’s got to be set right, cause ifin ya’ll don’t fix it…the whole world is goin to hell in a hand basket.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The Star Child

  The Council searched for Cass. She was supposed to be at her cabin, but no one had been able to find her. Her scent had grown cold. They needed to inform her of the new information Brogan had given Michael during the night, but no one knew where to look for her. Minerva left the Council meeting to speak with the man while the others tried to figure out where Cass had gone.

  If the old codger was not completely crazy, they had big trouble on their hands. According to Brogan, he was the last surviving Druid and nearly three hundred years old. The Druid Council, when it was still whole, had spent thousands of years watching and reading the stars.

  Although Druids had use of their own particular kind of magic, what they did was more science than science fiction. They used the alignments of planets, and placements of comets to foretell upcoming events. Things had been off for nearly twenty years, and Brogan had been watching closely. Set to contact them, and let them know what was coming when they were encamped at the old farmhouse, he had missed them by two days.

  Jenna seemed a constant source of trouble for the Council. Her voices wanting them to leave brought back the same old questions. Where did the voices come from? Why wouldn't they want the vampires in contact with Brogan? Why hadn’t the voices been talking to Jenna since their arrival at the Citadel?

  There were answers needed about Brogan and the things Michael saw in the fire. The prophesied “vampire queen” could not have been Jenna, because she was only four, and the person that had been predestined to be the “queen” should be in her twenties. They needed to find out more about the rebel army. If it were as vast as Michael saw in the vision, they would need to recruit more for their own. Messengers went back and forth from the Council chambers, while the leaders worked on finding answers to their questions.

  ***

  Minerva could hardly contain herself when she heard the old man below was a druid. As far as she was concerned, anything the Council tried to do that day would be pointless without more information from the man. When she was a small child, she had heard that the last of the druids had died. She was in a hurry to get down to him and find out what he knew.

  “Well hello there, little missy.” Brogan said with a big toothless grin. He threw his arms out wide. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  Minerva, feeling a bit like a schoolgirl, giggled and looked down. “I’m so very honored to meet you.”

  “Aww shucks, woman. Don’t be like that. Come on in here and have ya a seat.” Brogan bowed slightly and offered Minerva his stump. “I thought ya might be here sooner, seein as you’re the leader of the witches.”

  “How did you know that?” She asked as she primly sat on the edge of the large stump.

  Brogan smiled, winked, and tapped his temple with his index finger. “May I?” He asked before sitting beside her.

  “Of course.”

  Grey notebook in hand, he began explaining what brought him to find them. Brogan talked about druid magic, and had many questions about Minerva’s craft. They talked about the constellations, certain stars, and the significance of each. She invited him up to the castle several times during their conversation, but he refused.

  He still didn’t know what changed the time line, and he still couldn’t tell her where the renegade army was located. He did promise to do another incantation that night to find out more if possible. The problem, he told her, was that fire prophecy showed the people looking what concerned them. So the more people to look into it, the more it showed. Minerva arranged for the entire Council to be there an hour after sundown, to watch the shapes in the fire.

  “I don’t understand, Brogan,” Minerva said, “If you won’t go up there because of what they are, then why are you helping them at all?”

  “Dearie, I’ve lived these many long years ‘cause I’ve kept my hide outta trouble. Should I decide that life ain’t worth livin no more, then I’ll run right on up there with ya’ll, and hang out with them vamps.”

  “They may need blood to survive Brogan, but they are good people, noble people. I’ve lived with them for months now, most of us have, and we’ve had no trouble whatsoever. In fact, I’m pleased to call several of them friends.” Her voice was high and tight. She was irritated with his racist--no speciest--view of her new family.

  “Little lady, I’ll tell ye one thing, ain’t all up there as supposed to be. Ain’t all of them good and noble people. Has it not bothered ya’ll that those against ya seems to know just exactly what you're about?” Brogan shook his head, he was dumbfounded that these folks could be so bright, learn so much, and still be stupid. He looked over his shoulders, craning his neck around to search the forest behind him, then cocked his head to the side. He listened for a moment then leaned in and whispered, “Them that wants to do you in, they knows where ya’ll live. They knows exactly how to get in. When the time comes, thanks to some inside, they’s gonna show right up here, and take out every one of you they can. And when they do, that young’in up there’ll be their queen. Now that’s a fact. Stars don’t lie, they tell it straight, whatever it be. And you mark my sayin’, that young’in up there weren’t meant for that, she was meant to do something else.”

  “Then who is meant to be queen?”

  Brogan grimaced and shrugged.

  “Apparently your stars don’t tell all, just enough to cause trouble and raise suspicions.” Minerva said as she stood to leave.

  “Might be they don’t, but they tells me enough.”

  Minerva headed back towards the castle. Brogan chuckled and shook his head as he watched her stomp away.

  ***

  When Minerva returned to the Council chambers, she told of her meeting with Brogan. Everyone was appalled that there could still be a traitor, let alone many, among them. They had been certain that no one there could have been a spy. William and his ghostly network of detectives were summoned and advised to re-evaluate each occupant of the Citadel until they found the traitor or traitors among them. Level-by-level, the supernatural infiltrators hunted. Not one vampire or witch was overlooked.

  They decided that Gregorio, Athena, Michael, Liz, Minerva, Callista, and Angie with Jenna would meet with Brogan that evening. Athena didn’t want little Jenna involved, but Gregorio felt she needed to be there.

  At sundown, the Council met with William and the other ghosts. Once
again, William assured them no traitor lived among them. Vampires and witches alike were clear of any darkness or taint to their spirits. They started to wonder again just what was in this for Brogan and if he was an honest man, or just crazy.

  An hour after sundown, they met just outside Brogan’s camp. Michael and Minerva entered first. Impatient, the old man motioned for them to bring the others and be quick about it. He chanted in his singsong language while walking around the fire. As the others entered the camp, he gave them little notice. He walked, motioned for them to be seated, and continued with his preparations. As the flames grew higher and brighter, he motioned for them to come closer, saying, “Now we shall see what we shall see, boys and girls.” His head tilted back as a maniacal chortle escaped his throat.

  The emissaries from the Citadel had surrounded the fire, when the crazy old coot noticed Jenna standing beside Angie. He let out a howl and started jumping up and down like his feet were on fire.

  Jenna quickly slid behind Angie. Her tiny arms clung to her guardian’s legs. “Please take me home. Please!” She pleaded.

  “Brogan, calm down. You’re scaring the child.” Gregorio bellowed

  “You get that dark child outta my camp right now. Oweeeeeee. I cain’t believe it. You crazy blasted people. There ain’t nary a one of yuns with a brain!” Brogan wailed still jumping up and down.

  “Angie, take Jenna home now.” Athena said.

  Angie pulled Jenna up into her arms, hissed loudly, and disappeared into the forest.

  Once Jenna had left the circle, Brogan’s insane rampage began to ease. He was still pacing, cussing up a storm, and making no sense, but at least the howling had stopped.

  “Wasted I tell ya. Wasted. All that hard work, all day long, down the drain like it weren’t nothing. Of all the confounded, pigheaded, numb minded…..suffering catfish! Who’d a thought….You people.” He went on like that for at least two minutes, until he finally wound down and ran out of steam. He sat down on his stump, pulled out an old red handkerchief, and began to wipe the sweat that poured down his face. All the while shaking his head and muttering to himself.