*****
Grace ran the tip of her finger lazily over the outline of the black skull on Canaan’s chest. They were lying in bed, sated and relaxed from their lovemaking.
“How does it work, Canaan? How will Nardo become a Guardian?”
The fingers that had been gently combing through her tousled hair stopped.
“Nico and I, as Guardians, will escort him to St. Stephen’s. We’ll stand guard at the door from dusk to about an hour before dawn. Nardo will spend that time kneeling before the altar baring his inner heart. At some point during the night, he’ll feel compelled to speak the words of dedication, words that he has known since the day he was born but has never heard spoken aloud. At that point, he’ll remove his tunic and shirt and prostrate himself in total submission and wait in silence for the answer to his plea. If he is accepted, he’ll feel the fire among the lilies and he’ll rise and raise his hands at the glory of the pain.
“That fire, Grace, that fire consumes you, burns away everything you are leaving you with everything you want to be and when the fire subsides, you feel the power.” Canaan’s chest rose and expanded as he relived his own dedication. “It begins in your heart and spreads through every cell of your body, spreads through the very fiber of your being and the essence of that power creates the man you were always destined to become.”
Gripped by the memory of that first sense of expanded power, he crushed Grace to his chest so tightly that she gasped for lack of breath. He released her immediately and apologized.
“I’m okay,” she said as she rolled to her back. “Powerful memories, huh?” She climbed over him and straddled his waist, laughing at his surprise. “I have more questions and it’s safer up here.” She patted his chest affectionately. “Little by little, you guys have blown every image I had in my head about sexy vampires,” and laughed when he grabbed her waist, “All right, I’ll give you sexy, but nothing else is true; no garlic, no holy water, no silver and now you tell me all this takes place in a church. Does the priest know about the Paenitentia?”
Canaan’s hands moved from her waist to her breasts. His thumbs stroked slow arousing circles around her taut and pebbled nipples.
He laughed. “If it makes you feel any better, we still get fried in sunlight, although it takes a lot to turn us. We call it fried, but it’s really sun sickness. You have to be a vampire for the flash and burn. But to answer your question, yes and no. The priest knows, as his predecessors did, that we’re a secret society with secret initiation rites. Over the years we’ve shown our appreciation with generous gifts that enable St. Stephen’s to continue its care of the poor in the mission district.” He thought about it and shrugged. “Maybe they know who we really are, but no one has said so out loud and no Paenitentia has ever told them. Surely someone over the years would notice that we never age and we’re only seen at night.” The thumbs travelled down to her belly button. “This House has always held its Guardian vigils there. We’ll be mated there as well.”
“Grace laughed happily. “And bound?”
Canaan snorted a laugh. “Not in church!” When there was no corresponding laughter, he looked wary. “I thought the Professor covered all this.” Dov had started calling Broadbent the Professor because of his penchant for history and lecturing. The wandering fingers returned to Grace’s neck lingering on the pulse point. “We’ll ask to be bound at our mating, sweetling, but we won’t know if the boon is granted until we’re alone again in this bed. I take from you, you take from me. We’ll be bound by blood, Grace. It’s the only taking of blood the Race condones.” Grace seemed to stare at something in the distance and he couldn’t read her expression. “Sweetling, if this isn’t what you want; if you don’t think you can go through with it, that’s okay. We’ll be mated. That’s all we need.” He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. Then Grace licked her lips and her face flushed crimson. Canaan breathed freely.
Grace eyed him speculatively. “Just how long have you had this I-want-to-bite-Grace feeling?”
“Not bite you, love, taste you.” His fingers traced her lips and searched between them for her tongue then drew wet lines over her skin to her breasts and from there to her thighs and the juncture of her legs. “Just as I delight in tasting everything else you have to offer.”
She captured his roving hands in hers. “No you don’t, big boy. You’re not going to distract me. I want answers.” She was already wet from the thought of Canaan taking her blood. An erotic tingle coursed through her body and she tightened her butt cheeks in an attempt to control it.
“Ask what you will. I’m at your mercy.” A finger escaped and tickled the curls between her legs.
“How long have you wanted to ‘taste’ me?”
Again she quivered with arousal. Canaan’s finger moved a little closer to its goal and Grace unconsciously readjusted her legs to make the incursion easier. Canaan laughed deep in his chest when she closed her eyes and heaved a blissful sigh as the invader reached its mark.
“I’ve wanted to taste you since the first time I held you. That’s never happened to me before. It never even crossed my mind. Human blood is bitter. It burns.” He looked into her eyes and hoped she would see the depth of the love in his. He wasn’t laughing now. “But not yours, Grace. Yours will be sweet and soothing. I know it. I can taste a hint of it when I taste your skin.” He pulled her down until she was lying on his chest. “Will you be bound to me, Grace?” he whispered against the crook of her neck. He heard her quiet sensual moan against his ear.
“Oh yes, my lord, oh yes.”
Chapter 38
Grace placed the freshly ironed scapular over Nardo’s head. She straightened the snowy linen panels, front and back, and patted the shield embroidered on his chest. After kissing one cheek and giving the other an affectionate pat, she stepped back to admire the effect; loose fitting pants and shirt in pristine white cotton with the scapular falling halfway between his hips and knees. In spite of the modern cut of the clothes, he reminded her of a medieval squire preparing for knighthood.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered with her hands to her own cheeks and when she saw him redden, she laughed a little. “Like a white tiger, strong and beautiful. I’ll be thinking about you tonight. We all will. Everyone is so proud of you.” She shooed him with her hands. “Go on now. Canaan and Nico are waiting.”
*****
Canaan and Nico posted themselves to either side of the wide double doors to St. Stephen’s when Nardo began the vigil that would lead to his entrance into their elite ranks. Periodically one of them would stroll around the perimeter of the church making sure all was well. It would be a long night.
Nico finished his circuit but instead of taking up his position on the other side of the door, he came to stand beside Canaan. The Liege Lord looked worried and upset.
“Is there a problem, my lord?”
“This night is too long,” Canaan groused at Nico’s questioning look. He began to pace. “I feel like a mother hen. I want to run in there and rescue my chick before something happens to him. I’m his Liege Lord, dammit. I’m supposed to stand strong and stoic. It’s embarrassing.”
“You care for the members of your House. There’s nothing embarrassing about that, my lord.” Nico put his hand on Canaan’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about either. Bernardo has the heart of a Guardian. So it will be. He needs no blessing from any Council. He needs no House of Guardians to sponsor him. If a Guardian is in his blood and in his heart, he has only to ask and it will be given.”
“If Nardo fails here tonight, he’ll lose everything for siding with me. I bear the responsibility for allowing this.”
“He will be granted that which he asks.”
Nico had reverted to the more formal speech of his Eastern European background alerting Canaan to something bothering the warrior as well. “We can’t know that.”
“I can and do know that. It happened to me.”
His voice was so
low that Canaan almost missed it. He watched as Nico stared out over the churchyard to another time, another place and the Liege Lord was shocked to see the suave sophisticate had the face of a lost boy. Finally Nico shook his head, obviously bringing himself back to the present. He flexed his shoulders and ran his fingers through his dark hair.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Canaan asked quietly.
“No.” Nico shook his head. “It is in the past and that is where it should stay. My family was gone and my House was destroyed. I had nowhere to shelter except for a church. I went in as a youth and came out a Guardian. There’s no more to be said.”
Canaan nodded in acknowledgement of Nico’s right to keep his own council. “Thanks. You’ve taken a weight off my shoulders. I’ll go make my rounds.”
They passed the rest of the night in silence and when they heard Nardo’s roar of pain and glory, they grinned at each other. Even though Nico had assured him of the young Paenitentia’s success, Canaan couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief.
When Nardo emerged an hour before dawn, he walked with a new confidence, with shoulders squared and head held high. He carried his neatly folded shirt and scapular in his hands. His chest still glistened from the sweat of his ordeal and the black skull seemed to shine amidst the protection of the white lilies.
Canaan held out his hand. “Bernardo ad Tormeo, welcome to our ranks.”
Nardo brought his right fist to the new skull that covered his heart. “I serve at my Liege Lord’s command.” He tried and failed to keep the prideful grin from his face.
Nico stepped forward, bowed to the newest member and said formally, “It is my honor and pleasure to call you brother.”
Canaan pointed to the hazy light in the sky to the east. “Come on. We need to get you home. Grace will never forgive us if we let you fry on your first day.”
*****
Grace and Manon had prepared a feast in Nardo’s honor. They, unlike the others, never doubted the outcome of the ritual.
“We are what we are. It is what we choose to do with it that makes the difference,” Manon declared with her usual practicality. “No Council, no man or woman can tell us what we are meant to be. You, Bernardo, have chosen well. I will keep you in my prayers, my Garde de la Race.” She kissed his cheeks and patted his chest.
Canaan pulled out the chair at the head of the dining room table. “Sit here, Nardo. Today the place of honor is yours.” He chucked the new Guardian in the shoulder with his fist. “Just don’t get too comfortable.”
The food was good, the wine flowed, and when they were sated and comfortable enjoying their after dinner coffee, Otto looked at Canaan and asked pointedly, “So when are you going to make our Grace an honest woman?”
“Uncle Otto!” Grace squealed. Manon smiled. The rest of the table was silent.
“I think that’s between the two of us, don’t you?” Canaan asked seemingly unperturbed and when Grace opened her mouth to add something, he raised his index finger to his lips to signal silence.
“I’m not making a moral judgment here. You’re two consenting adults, but Grace has no immediate family to speak for her. As her ‘uncle’ it’s my duty to fill that role.” He patted Grace’s hand affectionately.
“But Uncle Otto, I don’t need…” she started to say.
“Grace,” Otto shook his finger sternly, “Your role is to sit quietly and listen.
Dov snickered. “Close your mouth Gracie. You look like a fish.” He looked around the table at seven pairs of glaring eyes and sank back in his chair. “Sorry.”
Otto continued. “You’ve publicly declared your intention. Has that intention changed?”
“No, sir, it has not. I fully intend to honor my commitment.”
Grace seemed to be the only one disturbed by this conversation. Everyone was sitting there quietly with their hands folded looking back and forth at Canaan and Otto as if this were a verbal tennis match. She frowned.
“As Grace is not a member of the Race, it’s my duty to see that she is protected under the law. In front of witnesses I ask, have you seen to her security and protection?”
“Yes, sir, I have.” Canaan looked at Broadbent and nodded.
Broadbent went to the sideboard picked up a small leather satchel and returned to the table. He opened it and removed a stack of papers. “This is an official accounting of all worldly holdings of Paenitentia Canaan ad Simeon, Liege Lord of an Honorable House of Guardians.” He passed all but one of the papers down the table to Otto. “For your perusal and approval, sir. The agreement is standard. At the end of the contract, either through termination or death, Grace Masters, Daughter of Man, will receive three-fifths of these holding and any others accrued during the contract.”
Otto flipped though the papers much too quickly to read anything and handed them back. “I am satisfied with the accounting.”
Broadbent held the remaining paper up. “This contract must be signed by both parties and any witnesses to this proceeding. It will become binding at the completion of the mating ceremony.” He removed a pen from his coat pocket and handed it and the paper to Canaan. “My lord, sign here, please, and pass the document to your lady.”
Canaan signed with a flourish and brought the paper to Grace. “Sign here, love.”
“Canaan, I don’t want your…” She was lifted from her chair, spun around and crushed to Canaan’s chest before she could finish the sentence.
He kissed her soundly and asked with his lips still against hers, “Grace, do you want to be my mate?”
“Yes, of course. That’s all I want. I don’t need…”
Canaan kissed her again. “And that’s one of the reasons I love you. Sign the paper, Grace. It’s all part of the tradition.”
She signed the paper to a round of applause and congratulations. While Manon went to the kitchen to retrieve the champagne for a toast, the men gathered around her with respectful hugs and kisses except for Otto who kissed both her cheeks and held her tightly to him.
“You sneaky old man,” Grace laughed playfully as she hugged him back.
He held her away from him to look at her face. His eyes glistened. “I’ve always regretted that Manon didn’t have this, that there would be no one to speak for her if something happened to me. Every Paenitentia who signed that paper has made a vow to stand for you should you ever have need.” He squeezed her shoulders. “It’s protection for you and peace for Canaan.”
Grace mouthed the words “Thank you”, too choked to say them out loud. The moment was broken when Nardo yelled.
“Dov, no fair sneaking in line a second time.”
“Hey! I deserve a little extra. Everyone seems to forget that I’m the one who brought her home.”
“I was there too, you know,” Col protested.
“Yeah, but I had to talk you into it, shit…”
“Ah,” Grace said sharply raising her finger in warning. “No name calling at the dinner table.”
Laughing, she kissed him again. When she turned back to Canaan, he held out a small black velvet bag, well worn from long handling.
Her hands shook as she tipped it into her palm. It was a blood red ruby the size of her thumb nail set in finely wrought white gold filigree. Tiny yellow gold lilies graced the sides of the gem.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispered as her finger traced the delicate work. Canaan took it from her and placed it on her finger. The tears that threatened with Otto spilled over now. “Oh, look at me. I’m blubbering again.”
“Yeah, Canaan always has that effect on people.” Dov raised a glass in salute and everyone joined in.
“To our Liege Lord and his Lady!”
*****
Abyar paced the floor, raging at his underlings. His arms flew up in the air and out to the sides endangering anything on shelf or tabletop. “What is the matter with you? I give you a simple directive and not one of you seems to be able to follow through!” He turned and gripped
the mantle with one hand. His shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath. He turned to them with fingers steepled in front of his chest, closed his eyes and took a last cleansing breath. Andi had taught him how to do this and it seemed to work for the most part. She worried that he’d have a heart attack, sweet thing. He wasn’t going to tell her that the only way his heart would stop was if it was ripped from his chest. He liked the idea of someone worrying about him. He bent to remove the iron poker from the hearth and turned it this way and that running his finger along it length inspecting it.
“Would anyone like to tell me why you haven’t succeeded?”
Tyn and Ragor wisely took a step back. Imnet was not as bright. Short and round and muscular, his human form matched that of his demon. He’d risen in the ranks through cruelty not brains.
“Can’t find ‘em,” he said now oblivious to the danger. “Lost two of mine last night. By the time I got to them they were dust. No sign of the Guardians.” He sucked loudly on his teeth.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Imnet shook his head. “Nah, don’t think so.”
The rest of the line took a step back to stand with Tyn and Ragor. Abyar walked around Imnet looking him up and down. “You weren’t with them when this happened?”
“Nah. Don’t have to be.” He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “They know what happens when they don’t follow my orders.”
“And what happens when you don’t follow my orders?” Abyar asked quietly. He waited patiently until the light went on in Imnet’s tiny brain.
The burly demon’s eyes went wide. He’d barely uttered “Oh-oh” when the poker pierced his chest.
Abyar pointed to the two demons nearest the door. “Take him out and finish it. I want his heart,” his voice rose, “and this time put it on a platter. Andi doesn’t like blood on the floor!” He turned to the remaining five. “They’ve taken two of ours,” he roared. No one dared mention that he had taken three. “I want them. Do you hear me? Have I made myself clear? They’ve got to be out there somewhere and I want them.” He strode to the door and turned back shaking his fist in the air. He growled, “And from now on, instant death to anyone who fails to call me sire.” The door slammed at his back.
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