Three Little Words

by Tina Glasneck

  Did he long to know those things? All the things about her, but then there was also the duty of the Order. His mind raced, pinging from one side to the next. There was no doubt—he loved Leslie immensely. She was not his second choice but would always be first. He just didn’t know her, yet.

  That part could be rectified, maybe?

  Freyja raised her hand, and Alistair closed his eyes as what felt like warmth akin to oil seeped down over his body from head to toe.

  “I see now. You are afraid, grandson. But you mustn’t be. Love is not something that can be controlled or placed on a shelf for a rainy day.”

  “I will deal with this in time, but until then, I must keep her safe and at arm’s length. I can’t be distracted.”

  “And what if someone else were to come and take her from you?”

  Alistair tasted his words before he released them out into the world. Their romance, relationship, would need to be tested in the most profound way, and even he could not stand in the way of what he was asking the fates to do indeed.

  “Then, she was never mine to begin with.”

  The telephone on his desk rang, interrupting their conversation, and on the line, he heard the female voice of his third in command, Rose. Her voice was neutral. “Sorry to interrupt, Alistair, but Sorceress Zola has agreed to meet with you tonight.”

  As the rectoress for the Legends Academy, meeting with her was important, although often, Zola didn’t seem to know her place in the hierarchy. She liked to push the boundaries of things. “She requested that two of her students be allowed to serve at the party tonight. They have been background checked, as well. With all of the magic within the structure, we will need to double the wards on the building and the floor in hopes that nothing slips in. I’ve received word that the Fae King is also in town and anxious to meet with you.”

  “No, we will not have strangers at Leslie’s party. Inform Zola that she is an esteemed guest and that everything for tonight is already planned and in place. And as for your father…”

  That was the thing about suddenly being visible. Everyone wanted a meeting, something to once again solidify their alliance. “And how is your father?”

  Many didn’t quite know what Rose was, as she kept her true identity quite secret. Being of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the daughter of Titania and Oberon, she was her own force to be reckoned with.

  There was a long pause. He glanced at the desk phone and saw that the light still glowed. The connection was still there. She just wasn’t answering.

  “Is it inappropriate for me to inquire?” he asked instead.

  They’d been a couple for five years, but it wasn’t Leslie’s fault that what was once between Alistair and Rose was history.

  “No, my Lord, I find it only of a personal matter, and as you have made it clear that all that shall exist between us is professional, I do not think it wise for me to blur the lines of acceptability.”

  “I know I was pretty harsh as to informing you of my and Leslie’s—”

  “Relationship? I’m not sure I can even call it that considering your penchant for pushing people away.” A peal of brittle laughter punctuated her words. “I know you well enough to know that you aren’t quite comfortable in this forever talk, and if you hadn’t had to save her from her own stupidity, you’d not be in this situation. But I’m not a woman to wait in the wings while you figure it out.”

  This wasn’t something he’d ever asked of her, either: a one-day promise built on heaps of sand.

  “You’re only playing dress-up, Alistair, and soon you will tire of the chaos she creates and come to your senses. That is the only way you and the Order will have the alliance with the Fae, or did you forget that part of the bargain?”

  Promises made during passion should have been nullified as quickly as the rosy glow had taken to disappear, but she was holding his feet to the fire.

  “You told your father of the potential alliance?”

  “You can’t sleep with the king’s daughter and not expect some sort of consequence. But that is not what today is about. Today is about you putting on a dog and pony show. As much as you long to keep the Order together, your decisions will be that which causes it to split apart.”

  With those final words, she hung up the phone, leaving Alistair weighing his options. The Fae were some of the mightiest of supernaturals, and having them officially as part of the Order would ensure the Order’s continuation. That was what he’d always wanted.

  However, now he wasn’t so sure. Fate was pulling him one way, while his desire for an extended legacy tugged for the other.

  In all of that, he’d forgotten that Freyja was there listening. He turned and saw her mouth hanging open, eyes welling with unshed tears. “Dearest grandson, what have you done?”

  For once, he didn’t have a good enough answer.

  Removing the traveling rune from his pocket, he disappeared.

  Deep in the woods of the Carpathian Mountains, Alistair stood surrounded by the other elders, waiting for the wolf’s call to bring forth the newest pup.

  The spicy aroma, akin to a yule log, contrasted with the fresh scent of pine and earth. The smell of burning wood only meant that tonight’s initiation included some of the older elder members, specifically, the notoriously famous Vlad the Impaler, Vlad of Wallachia, or better known as the son of Dracul, hence Dracula. But he despised that Hollywood connection and instead preferred Drac, at least this century.

  Tonight, Drac left behind pomp and circumstance, Alistair noticed, instead to allow his long wavy hair to flutter in the wind that he likely created. Sleeveless, he revealed the ancient runes etched into his skin. To the untrained eye, they might have appeared like simple Wallachian tattoos.

  Drac slammed his hand down on Alistair’s shoulder. “Long time since we’ve seen each other, friend.”

  “Yes, I think her name was Cilla.”

  Drac threw his head back in laughter. “She was not worth your time, dear brother. Trust me. I saved you from a lifetime of misery.”

  Since then, of course, Alistair had lived a few lifetimes, but the raven-haired Cilla remained a part of the nagging feelings of ineptness.

  A snapping branch interrupted them. The brush separated and out stepped Nelson, the new were-pup, on whom they waited. From his appearance, Nelson was in his prime—muscled, strong, but also troubled. The ground illuminated beneath his feet into a glowing sigil.

  All gathered in their humanoid form, with their faces covered by bejeweled masks, and in the circle’s center stood his nephew, the great wolf, Killian. He was massive, and Killian’s fur shimmered in shades of blue and black.

  “Kneel,” Killian ordered Nelson, “for the time has come for you to step into your lupine nature, to choose life or death. You are called to be the guardian to those who are unable to guard themselves, to be the guardian to the supernatural and maintain order. As part of the Order of the Dragon, you must relinquish this life.”

  “I can’t do that,” Nelson countered. “I’ve built a life up here and wish to give up my wolf-nature.”

  Alistair frowned. “Son, you risk it all for what might never be.” He understood it too well. After all, hadn’t he also lived what seemed like a thousand years hoping and loving a promise, but not knowing how to deal with the woman behind it? He cleared his throat but was silenced by his sister, Jaz, the Dragon Queen, raising her hand. She moved forward and the elders parted. A gold crown rested on her head, and her long black hair fluttered in the slight evening breeze.

  She, too, knew the consequences of love and love lost, wanted.

  He loved someone and wanted them to allow him to hold onto what love might be, might blossom into. Wasn’t that what community did? It didn’t shut those away who longed for a heartbeat.

  In those nights, he remembered what being baptized in depression had done. It once sought to pull him further into its depths, denying him what he longed for the most, and running around with the famous Dracula to fill th
e void of those lonely nights.

  But he’d never given up his post, his duty for it. Love would grow. If he didn’t poison the river. What would happen if he, too, was willing to shirk responsibility to give love a glowing chance?

  “Are you sure you wish to do such, dear child?” Jaz, the Dragon Queen, moved to the center of the circle; power radiated all around her.

  Nelson clenched his fists but took a step back.

  “The balance between chaos and order is delicate, young one,” Jaz continued. “The wolves are important to subdue chaos but do not be confused, as order is not guaranteed good. But it is your blood, your legacy that you shun. Do you know what you will give up?”

  “I have prayed, and my prayers have gone unanswered,” Nelson said. “The curse I bear in my body will not bring me closer to the desires of my heart. I want nothing more than freedom, hope, and to live without the chains and sins of my father and kind.”

  “You sacrifice all for love?” Dracula chuckled. “Naiveté poisons purpose. A foolish sacrifice and a bad decision for your double vision. You see only that before you and not that to come, but that, too, shall change.”

  “No disrespect, my Queen,” Nelson interjected, returning his attention to Jaz, “but the threats of war have nothing to do with me. I will not live in fear of what may happen, but instead enjoy the fruits of this life.”

  Jaz moved toward Nelson, and as if cupping the air around them, she formed a golden orb. “I grant you a reprieve, dear wolf, but remember even forgotten prayers have been heard.” She released the orb and a kaleidoscope of black and blue butterflies formed, taking flight.

  “You are now a wolf without a home until the time of our choosing,” she proclaimed. “Faith is a bridge best walked with life experiences. If you pray, we shall hear you; if you sacrifice, we shall hear; and when you return, we shall again embrace you, but be warned: the weight on your shoulders will only increase, and not lessen.”

  “What would you have me do?” Nelson pled.

  A lonely heart created roads of trials, errors, and pain. Alistair should know. He’d been walking this path long enough to become one with it.

  Although he was there to bless Nelson, and once blessed, Nelson would be granted entrance into the academy to train, just like Leslie was to do now, Alistair knew the cost. But this was their way: first initiation, then acceptance to determine destiny’s direction. Only then could it become a reality.

  “Believe.” And in that whisper, Nelson turned and raced away.

  “Come, Alistair,” Drac said. “We need to catch up before you return to your castle.”

  “Actually,” Jaz interrupted, “your reunion must wait as there is a siren who has petitioned for our help. Why don’t you three—you, Killian, and Drac handle this, as her request for assistance is of the utmost importance.”

  Both Killian and Drac grinned broadly, like they’d dipped their fingers into a honey pot!

  “Well, you don’t have to ask me twice.” Killian chuckled like a schoolboy.

  “Thor will meet you there to help keep you out of trouble.”

  “Thor?” Drac questioned. “I haven’t had fun with him since Frey’s new moon party. Oh, good times.”

  “Fuck, I’m in so much trouble dealing with you two,” Killian joked. “All we need is a bard to sing our tune as we make our merry way.”

  “We go to help, nothing more,” Alistair chastised. “And if we leave now, I can be back to New York before nightfall there.”

  “Aye, dear brother, friend,” Drac said and clapped him on the back again. Let’s take my ride this time. We must rush to the buxom sirens and rescue these luscious damsels in distress.” He winked at them. “Plus, I know a good bard.”

  Chapter 2

  Leslie

  Manhattan, New York

  Relationships sucked, and it was clear as mud to say that me and Alistair, my sire, and fated mate, were at a turning point. I didn’t do love triangles. There was nothing like a man who toyed with your emotions in hopes of keeping you there just in case one of his options fell through. Fuck that.

  Sigh. The sun had long disappeared, while an overcast sky barely allowed the moon’s beams to illuminate the darkness. But this being NYC, there were tons of car lights and neon billboards to illuminate the night, as well as enough angry cab drivers honking to provide more atmosphere.

  Now, as a part of the supernatural, it wasn’t strange to get that magical tingle whenever another one was nearby—almost like having a radar.

  With my birthday a few days away, it was one of the last of my human traditions that I refused to let go of. When you end up finding out that Santa Claus was Odin riding Sleipnir, it sort of changed a girl’s perspective of things.

  Humming a little, my arms sore from sword sparring with my trainer, Goose, I was quite happy. My family was all together, and this was my early gift to myself: dancing!

  I breathed in the crisp New York air. Wearing my fringe outfit for tonight’s salsa ball, it felt right to be back at the studio, moving my hips, which helped me more and more with Alistair’s fencing lessons. Who knew that dancing was a prerequisite for advanced fighting?

  My canvas tote hung on my shoulder, and bundled up in my crimson red trench coat, I sauntered onward. The coat’s belt was tightened around my waist, and with my one earbud in my ear, I listened to the latest Top 40 countdown. I swayed and moved my hips to the beat, strutting down Columbus Avenue as a light gust of wind pushed against me. Dance thrived in this area, where the City Ballet and Julliard were a stone’s throw away from each other.

  Grabbing my fresh fish from Chuck, the supernatural fishmonger, and sometimes street performer, I slipped him a five-dollar bill and received my fish wrapped in seaweed. “Good evening, Chuck.” I smiled as I did every morning.

  The wendigo, a usual cannibalistic relative of bigfoot, wasn’t the normal supernatural in town. But there was only one, and he’d found a plant-based diet. I knew him to make the food deliveries for Rose at Charming’s building, and also have a small stand near the dance studio. In human form, standing at five-feet-nine inches tall, he appeared nothing more than lanky and average in his delivery suit, with the name tag of “Chuck,” but when night came, he burst out of that skin so quickly to be his true, shaggy self.

  “I’m elated you’re coming back,” Chuck said. “It’s been a while since you’ve graced us with your presence.” Chuck’s food stand was situated right between the dance schools, overlooking the small Damrosch Park.

  The professional and dance students alike loved his yummy assortment that didn’t seem to make them gain weight, have issues with dancing or anything. I sometimes wondered if he was truly pushing his vegan and pescatarian wares as he claimed, or if there was something narcotic in his food. Seriously, one bite, and it was like getting a hit of pure goodness.

  “Well, I’m happy you got my texted order.” I beamed. “I would be starving without it.”

  “That’s what WE DO.” He pointed at his name tag, highlighting the name of his company. What a play on words.

  “Leslie.” I heard my name called out and turned to see my friend Imogen, waving and crossing the busy street toward me. We lived in the same building, and I’d known her for years, but we’d not hung out since before my transformation. Heck, we’d even spent time doing lessons way before my changing into a vampire. But it wasn’t Alistair’s blood that put a wedge between us. Sometimes friends grew apart. For a moment, I thought about Sunflower and knew she, too, would have enjoyed being here if she weren’t dead and killed because of me.

  I pushed away the itchy feeling of guilt, dragging my nails instead down my arm as if scratching might produce a bit of relief.

  “You know, some hydrocortisone could help you with that,” she said, tilting her head to the side.

  I stopped and pulled my jacket sleeve back down. “Something just told me you’d love being back at the studio. Helena is still there, too. She and Joffrey are semipro now. She’
s the understudy.”

  Imogen still took classes, although she was pretty active working the chorus line on the Off-Broadway Musical “7 Twisted Fairytales” based off of flash fiction and interrelated stories. The program included each of the snippets, all around two-hundred-and-fifty words.

  I’d been surprised when we bumped into each other in the walk-up. But when the short chat ended with an invitation back to the dance studio, how could I refuse?

  With Imogen’s help, I was lucky enough to get my old spot back, and not have to start again with basic lessons, but it also came with a cost—daily lessons. I could set a watch according to the schedule. Every day the same for practice. Same route, same outfit, but freshly washed, of course, same walking partner. If I kept up like this, it would surely be a formed habit.

  Although Alistair was in town, he was busy in his steel tower with his wolves, which left me time to pretend to be the old me.

  I tried to push down the thoughts of Alistair. Things had been different between us since the Poseidon incident. Instead of us becoming closer, he’d been a little on edge. I tried to shake it off. This was my first time back out on the street by myself.

  “Traffic is absolutely horrible tonight,” Imogen said.

  I couldn’t say whether or not that was true. It seemed like the usual Manhattan traffic. After all, this was the city that never slept. That meant traffic and the noises thereof were always around.

  “There’s so much that we need to catch up on,” she continued. This was the usual Imogen. If there was a space to be filled with conversation, she did it. But for once, I was okay with that. Her talking left me with less time to sink into my thoughts.

  I tried to bear it all in stride. It wasn’t every day that I got a chance to pretend to be normal. I wanted this life and the comforts it brought, but I also wanted to survive and not worry about some rogue vampires coming to fight me.

  “I tell you, things have been utterly strange down in the theater district, though. There was this guy who would dress up as a ghoul for the play of the same name. What was it called again? Yes, Ghoulish Tunes. Anyhoo, the other night he completely disappeared. Supposedly, no one has seen him.”