"Mona, get the board under him quick."
Tatya scarcely saw the twin move, as she picked up a piece of plywood wrapped in padded silk, and slid it under Vanse.
"Good girl. Gently does it," and they rolled Vanse onto his back again, on top of the wooden panel.
"The ties," Fabio ordered.
Mona slid several long wide strips of silk under the board and used them to bind Vanse across his chest above the knife, and across his hips, thighs and calves keeping him in place.
Mona joined her sister at the foot of the coffin.
"You can let go now, Tatya. Careful, girls, the next bit is a little tricky." Fabio counted again, and this time, the three vamps picked up the board and, with great care and attention, moved their master onto the gurney.
Within minutes, they'd covered Vanse with blankets, leaving a space around the blade and his lower chest to prevent extra pressure being accidentally applied.
“Tatya, his wrists again, if you please.”
Tatya promptly obeyed.
Fabio warded the mausoleum door after they exited. "The fewer people know what we're doing, the better," he said. "Let's move."
With Fabio pushing, and the twins pulling, the rickety gurney clattered rapidly along the corridor.
Although her blood was only part vampire, and she possessed few of the attributes of a mature vamp, Tatya kept pace, wondering how often they used it for transporting bodies. She kept her hand on top of Vanse’s, squeezing herself sideways as they maneuvered their unconscious master up two flights of narrow stairs and into the elevator.
"Wait a second," Fabio said, stepping out onto the ground floor. "Just a little glamouring."
Sure enough, when they pushed the trolley out of the elevator, Tatya wasn't surprised to see the security guards and night receptionist engaged in deep conversation and taking no notice of them as they squeaked and squealed across the floor. Nothing wrong with a bit of glamour in an emergency, she thought.
They exited the rear entrance, where a black ambulance waited. Together they lifted the gurney into the vehicle.
"Tatya, give your keys to Meera, she'll drive your truck and provide rearguard protection. Mona will drive the ambulance, and I'll sit with you and my master."
As they hurtled out of the hospital grounds, Tatya steadied the gurney as it banged against her knees when Mona took the corner a bit too sharply.
Fabio sat opposite staring out the back window. A few minutes later, his phone rang. "Yes, I see them. You know what to do." He turned to Tatya. "We've got company, but Meera will distract them. Don't worry about your truck. It'll be returned without a scratch. She is a driver par excellence."
The sound of tires screeching had Tatya squinting out the back watching the headlights of her truck swivel as Meera pulled a bootleg turn, and from the smooth squeal of the wheels on the tarmac, she was an expert. The car following them vanished as the driver slowed, turned, and shot after her truck.
"As I thought," said Fabio, studying the car’s taillights, "I bet that's Serkan or his people, and as he won’t realize we have Vanse, it's you he hopes to capture."
The ambulance swerved and the trolley shot first to one side, and then to the other as Mona avoided an obstacle on the road. “Dead deer,” she called.
Tatya gripped Vanse’s wrists, keeping his arms well clear of the knife handle, but let out a loud squawk when she noticed Vanse's leg dangling over the side.
When Fabio saw what startled her—the tie keeping his master's leg in place had loosened—he repositioned the swinging limb with great care and re-tied the silk binding.
Tatya peered out, but they weren’t being followed anymore. She hoped Meera’s driving was worthy of Fabio’s praise.
Eva and Jimmy rushed down the steps, their expressions anxious as the ambulance raised a spray of gravel as it squealed to a stop. After a fair amount of more delicate maneuvering, they managed to get the gurney down the narrow stairway to the basement. Jimmy had created a waist-high temporary wall in the far corner, using boxes of herbs and supplies. Behind the wall, one of the large trunks she'd used for moving her stuff from the shop out to the house had been lined with blankets and lay waiting for Vanse's body. The board—with the vampire master firmly secured—was placed inside the box with the utmost devotion.
Fabio loosened the ties and straightened Vanse's arms. "We'll leave the trolley here, for when it's safe to return him to his proper home," he told Tatya, as she let go of Vanse’s wrists.
Eva and Jimmy stared transfixed at Vanse's chest; this was the first time they'd seen the man Tatya loved and the ensorcelled knife with which she'd killed him.
Meera drove up the driveway as Tatya escorted Fabio out the front door. "I'll erect wards around Vanse, and increase the psychic protection around the property straight away," she said, glancing up at the bright waxing moon. "And Forked Lightning said he’ll be here at midday to remove the block to my power."
"Good. The sooner the better.” He blurred over to the ambulance, pulled out a long heavy bag, zapped back and dropped it at her feet. “Here’s a small gift for you."
She blinked in surprise. Fabio must be more disturbed than she realized. He rarely displayed any of his abilities in front of her, as if to do so might make her uncomfortable, and be a display of bad manners.
“I’ve taken the precaution of leaving you these weapons, in case, well—”
“Thank you, Fabio. I am sure Vanse would approve.”
He acknowledged appreciation of her compliment with a low bow before taking his leave.
Jimmy lugged the heavy bag to the basement where they stashed it under a tarpaulin.
“You want some late-night practice with warding?” Tatya asked him. She had discovered Jimmy possessed some talent as a hedge wizard and had taught him the basics of spell casting, including protection of property.
“Sure.”
“Let’s start down here, and finish up outside,” she told him.
“Do you want coffee or anything?” Eva asked, “otherwise I’m off to my bed.”
“Nope, but thanks,” Tatya answered.“I’m fine.”
An hour later, Jimmy stretched and yawned as they finished setting the last of the extra defenses along the front of the property. “I’m beat. I’ll see you in the morning, Tat.”
"Thanks, Jimmy. I’m popping down to the basement. I want to say good night.”
Tatya stood in the tight space between Vanse's new resting place and the wall and looked down at him. He would hate being vulnerable and dependent on others. A ripple of fear shivered up her spine at the thought of Serkan, and what he might do to Vanse. She bent down, and inhaled his scent, the scent of sandalwood, and whispered in his ear. "Nobody is going to remove that knife and endanger your life. They’ll have to get through me first, and even without my full powers, I am a formidable opponent." She kissed him on the lips and left.
Later, as she was drifting off to sleep, she smiled. Vanse was lying in a trunk in her basement, and despite everything, she was happy to have him closer. The image of his face rose before her. At first, he smiled, but as she watched his eyes widened, and his mouth moved. She realized he was trying to tell her something, but she couldn't hear his words. All at once she heard a low droning in the background, knew he'd caught it before her, and this was disturbing him. As the sound grew louder, Vanse began to fade, and as he grew fainter, he became more agitated. Then, from one minute to the next, both Vanse and the sound were gone. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow, if Forked Lightning didn’t turn up on time, she would drive out to the rez, and drag him here by his hair. She had two tasks for him now: removing the blockage to her powers, and then together, they would scry and investigate the source of this disruption.
Chapter Five: The Fall, Time Unknown
He fell, twisting, and turning at a speed that even his magnificent wings could not stop. The force of his descent sent him into a spiral, and he lost all sense of direction. He
begged for the pain of separation to end, for he could no longer hear the sweet caressing voices of his beloved brothers and sisters. Jagged swathes of red, blue and green streaked past on the edge of his sight, but he was falling too fast to catch more than flashes. There was only the awful silence and his screams filling the void. “What have I done? Tell me. Why are you punishing me? I don’t know what I did. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please tell me what I did wrong.” But no one answered his pleas for mercy. He plunged into a thicker layer that slowed him and scraped his skin raw, but all he heard were his shrieks of agony.
When he woke, he was lying in a cold, alien place. A freezing white substance covered the ground and burned his fingers when he touched it. Strips of peeling bark hung from the pale gleaming trunks of the surrounding trees, and far above, a grayish mist gave a leaden cast to the sky. Instinctively, he knew this hostile place was his new home, and he hated it. His body shook, little bumps covered his skin, and his leg hurt. He took comfort in his beautiful red-gold wings, and he flexed them, curling them around his body for warmth. He buried his head beneath the shelter of shining feathers. Knowledge of how he came to be in this harsh land was gone. He sensed he came from somewhere else, somewhere full of light and laughter, but even as he reached for the memory, it fled beyond his grasp. He curled himself further inside his wings, seeking solace, ignored the strange hurts stabbing his body, and eventually slept.
Something jabbed him in the side. “Wake up.”
The voice was high and guttural, but although he’d not heard the words before, he understood the meaning. Raising his head, he saw a small figure examining him with bright brown eyes. Her matted brown hair hung loosely around her face, and she wore a knee-length covering of animal skins sewn together. Her legs and feet were similarly covered, though her arms were bare and covered with swirling patterns, and she held a long piece of wood with a sharpened tip in her hand. She reached out to touch his feathers, and he flinched backward.
“I won’t hurt you. I want to feel your feathers, bird-man. They are beautiful.” She tilted her head to one side as she studied him.
He bowed his head while the small fingers stroked his feathers. He noticed with a growing sadness that they had lost their glorious color and turned a lackluster grayish white. If only he could remember why he was here. “What is this place?”
“This is the forest where we hunt. I live far from here in a village with my mother and father. We have a big wooden wall for protection against the wolf-men,” she added raising her chin with pride.
Awareness that this wolf she spoke of was an animal rose in his mind.
“I am called Suka. What is your name?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I’ve never seen anything like you before. Your hair is the color of fire, and your eyes resemble the summer sky.” She caressed his feathers again. “Can you fly, bird-man?”
Tears rolled down his cheeks. Yes, in whatever life he lived before, he knew he had flown. Yet he understood that should he try to fly here, his fragile body would crash to the earth. “No.” His voice was a whisper.
“Suka!”
“Here, mother,” the little creature shouted, before turning back to him. “Mother will be pleased with what I have found.”
He shrank into himself as another larger being strode toward him.
Suka was a smaller friendlier version of this fierce looking creature, who brandished a larger longer stick at him. “Suka, get away from him!”
“He won’t hurt me, he’s my friend.”
Suka’s mother came close and studied him. “He has strong magic."
He wondered what this magic was and if it would it help him return to his lost home.
“He doesn’t have a name,” Suka told her mother. “I call him bird-man.”
“I have forgotten my name.” He hung his head.
"Well, you have met Suka, and I am Keala.” She squatted down next to him, and sniffed again.
He felt a tickling on his skin.
“Your power is hidden. You will need to uncover your magic, and then you will be powerful and not fear others. All the creatures of the earth have magic in some degree or other. In the old days, humans had more but now we are losing ours. But come. The wolf-clan are in the forest today, and it’s better if they don’t see you." She rose, her movements quick and fluid, and held her hand out to him.
Pain shot up his left leg, and he cried out when Keala pulled him to his feet. She crouched by his side, and undisturbed by his nakedness, ran her hands up and down his leg.
He whimpered as her fingers pressed his knee.
“You are lucky. It’s not broken, but there is damage. Wait.” She rooted in the nearby undergrowth and found a branch he could use as a crutch. She slipped her arm under his wings and around his waist. “We must hurry if my people are to protect you.” Keala wasn’t quite as tall as him, but she was deceptively strong, and hurried him along.
Suka skipped ahead, stopping every now and then, to check they were following.
By the time they reached the village, the sky had darkened, and the pain from his injury was almost unbearable. Only the crutch and his arm around Keala’s shoulders kept him upright.
The village was surrounded with a wooden palisade. Inside, the dwellings consisted of a cluster of small huts, constructed of branches and moss, easily built and dismantled. As soon as the other humans saw him, they clustered around until Suka chased them away.
Keala settled him inside one of the huts on a bed of pine branches and skins, covered him with more skins, and ordered him to rest.
Several days passed as his body healed. He discovered Keala had brought him to the hut where she, Suka, and her mate, Loda, lived together. Loda, a dour man, whose face was half covered with hair, came and went without saying much. He shouted at Keala when she made some clothes to cover his nakedness, and he chased away anyone who came to visit their strange guest. There wasn’t much space for the four of them, and he often caught Loda observing him with a odd expression on his face. Apart from Loda, whom he ignored as much as possible, he began to settle into his new life. Keala fed him, Suka entertained him, and his heart began to lighten. Maybe this world had its compensations.
One evening, as the full moon rose in the sky, the villagers gathered around a large fire they had built in the center of their compound.
“Not you,” Loda told him, “you stay here.”
Keala had left the entrance to the hut open, and he listened to the rise and fall of voices above the crackle of burning wood. Every now and then, he recognized Loda’s strident voice as the discussion became heated, and heard the words tribute and sacrifice. He lay and stared at the shining orb in the sky. He’d watched with fascination as it grew bigger and brighter each night, till the silvery light bathed the world. As he dozed off, he thought of Keala’s smile. His leg felt fully healed. Tomorrow he would ask her to take him to the forest with her.
Rough hands jerked him out of sleep as he was dragged to his feet. Before he could ask what was going on, Loda punched him in the face, and he was hauled out of the hut, half-conscious with his head spinning.
Keala stood outside, clutching Suka to her chest, hiding the child’s face. “I’m sorry,” she said over and over as water trickled from her eyes, and ran down her cheeks.
The men kept a tight grip on his arms, giving him no chance to escape, and beat him with their heavy sticks when he protested. They dragged him to a clearing deep into the forest. Lit by moonlight, an immense tree stood in the center. Tying thick strips of leather tightly around his wrists, they stretched his arms and bound him to the tree. They secured him well, and the bark of the tree scraped his face. Loda tugged at his wings, spreading them wide across his back.
A high wild howling had them urging each other to hurry. After one last check, they fled into the shelter of the forest, leaving him trembling with fear and alone. Later, after the cold had taken all feeling from his legs and arms, and
the moon had moved across the sky, they came for him.
A dozen broad muscular men raced into the clearing, and surrounded the tree. As they cut the ties binding him to the tree, he sensed the animal living within them, and, as understanding struck, he shivered in terror. The villagers had given him to the savage wolf-men they feared. He was the tribute, the sacrifice they had spoken of last night around the fire.
More men trickled in, followed by women clutching their wide-eyed children, and formed a circle. Last to arrive were the old, who leaned on crutches, and mocked him with their toothless grins.
The men dragged him into the center of the circle.
He struggled. Somewhere hidden inside him was the power to defeat these creatures, but he didn't know to reach it.
They threw him onto the ground, and four of them straddled him—one on each arm and one on each leg. Their weight pressed him down, and he couldn't move. Their spiteful laughter at his pathetic efforts to free himself filled him with fury.
Another squatted in front of him and yanked his head up by his hair.
He read the wolf-man's hatred of him in his eyes. "Your human friends have betrayed you. A good lesson for you, and now you know they have no concept of true loyalty. But their trickery hasn’t worked. Your flesh is contaminated, and you are useless for the hunt.” He spat in his face.
A few minutes later, the wolf-man kneeled on his lower back, and he wailed in pain as more hands roughly grasped his wing tips and stretched his wings wide. But that was only the beginning, and he shrieked and writhed in agony as they hacked off his wings. Afterward, the smell of burning feathers accompanied him into unconsciousness.
When he came to, he was naked, alone and helpless, just as when he first woke in this godforsaken world. He convulsed as red hot lines of agony seared his skin where they’d amputated his wings, and he screamed like an animal having its throat cut. Weakness, betrayal and cruelty was all he’d found in this world. One thought possessed him before he passed out again: he would have his revenge.
The Kala Trilogy: An Urban Fantasy Box Set Page 48