“Even to be ten would be nice,” Harry muttered. Simon looked sharply at him.
Harry was in love. Rhiannon would be an amazing addition to the band, but Simon couldn’t simply change every unhappy light Faery on the planet. He had also promised Kele the right to create the next dark Faery after his love, Fiona had gone.
“For now we can make due with nine.”
When they had rehearsed the new music and were satisfied, the Vampyres scattered to their own pursuits. Harry went straight to the stream, hoping to see Rhiannon, but the place was deserted. He’d been careless, he thought, leaving a few days’ distance between himself and the girl until he heard about Teilo’s efforts. Now the girl probably thought none of them cared, even the Vampyres.
If only he could see her, he thought, he could explain to her what they’d been trying to do for her. But perhaps that wasn’t wise, considering they’d failed. No point in underscoring what couldn’t be.
She was such a wonderful girl, he thought angrily. It wasn’t reasonable that an entire clan hated her and wished her ill. Was it possible she’d lied? Faeries were generally honest, but Vampyres could usually tell when they weren’t.
Unless you’re blinded by love, he muttered to himself.
Harry took himself to Rhiannon’s home. He had to know if she was living in the pitiful state she’d described.
He milled through the village, glamouring himself to look like anyone else to escape notice. He listened for any mention of the girl, but she wasn’t the topic of conversation. As he was about to turn to the path to her house, he heard a scrap of conversation that he thought might be about her.
“… and someone just the other night was asking questions about her. I heard he went to the priestess herself to try to buy her. I told you she wasn’t one of us. I hope the stranger gets her, no matter what he plans to do with her.”
“But she does have a magnificent voice.”
“One she has no business with. I’ll tell you, I think it was sorcery that gave her the voice. Nothing good can come of it. The Widow Breve has nothing but trouble with her from dusk until dawn.”
He didn’t want to be seen going to her house just after they spoke of her, so he detoured to a clearing where some boys played ball. He watched them for a while. When their ball landed at his feet they looked at him.
He picked up the ball and tossed it back, careful not to use more force than a regular Faery would. It wouldn’t do to throw it back at the hurricane force of which he was capable.
“Thanks,” they called and resumed their game.
“Do you want to play?” one boy asked.
“No thanks. I’m trying to find my cousin’s house,” he said.
“Who’s your cousin?” another boy asked.
“Langston Measure,” he said, repeating a name he’d heard on the way here.
“Oh, he lives by the Widow Breve’s. But watch out for the weird girl.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know the way. I live among the Mercifuls.”
One of the boys came over to give directions and describe the houses.
Harry left them. Rhiannon was imprisoned, as far as he was concerned, but he had no idea how to rescue her. He made sure to keep out of sight as he watched.
The old woman was in a foul humor, but from Rhiannon’s reaction, it was her ordinary mood. Little the girl did was good enough for her. The woman complained so much Harry thought she’d even make an unappetizing meal for a Vampyre as fierce as Artemis. But oh, the temptation to end the woman and free the girl was intense. The girl would be blamed. He suspected that even if the woman died of natural causes the others would blame the girl for not being attentive enough. He needed to be on his guard.
Rhiannon looked up unexpectedly and saw Harry through the window. She smiled, but as soon as she did the old woman was on her.
“What have you got to be smiling about?” Mrs. Breve asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Rhiannon replied, bringing her attention inside the house.
“Then stop your silly grinning. You look like the village idiot!”
Once the woman’s attention was elsewhere, Rhiannon peeked out the window again, and Harry blew her a kiss. Then he was gone.
VI
The Cantares rehearsed for Beltane. Every fifth year, according to the Faery calendar, all clans celebrated the festival together. On other years clans celebrated separately, although the Mercifuls and Benevolents usually celebrated together regardless. Because the House of the Priestesses was located in Benevolent land, the fifth year celebrations occurred there. Like the Celestials, the Cantares kept mainly to themselves unless they were required to interact.
For the Celestials, their separateness was due to where they lived. The tree dwellers were never quite comfortable walking on the ground. The Cantares, on the other hand, kept themselves aloof, as if they were better than all other clans. They tended to mistrust those from other clans who came to apprentice as musicians, and never quite treated them as equals.
They hadn’t always been this way. Time was when they were as happy to be with the Benevolents as the Mercifuls were. But things had changed in recent years. Although some still enjoyed the other clans, the leaders of the Cantares had become mistrustful. No one outside the clan knew the reason.
As the time approached, the choirmaster chose the select from the choir to perform for the clans. Rhiannon did not expect to be chosen, and wasn’t surprised when her name wasn’t called. She could enjoy the festivities and dream about what it would be like to one day jump the fire with someone. It wouldn’t be one of the Cantares. She wished it could be one of the two young men who talked with her at the stream.
They said they were Vampyres. She had never known such things existed, and when she asked Widow Breve about it, she’s swatted her in the head and said not to talk nonsense. But she hadn’t seen either of the Vampyres to ask about it. She’d only seen the newer one from the window, but she hadn’t been able to get away to go to the stream.
As Master Legato dismissed them, Rhiannon detoured to the stream. She hoped that seeing the Vampyre by the window the other evening meant he wanted to see her.
She arrived at the stream but saw no one. She was disappointed and dully picked up some pebbles to skim across the water.
Harry dropped down to the ground from a nearby tree branch, startling her.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I’ll have to make some noise next time,” he said.
“It’s all right. I saw you the other day. I was afraid you would never come again.”
“I thought maybe I’d cause you trouble, so I stayed away. A friend – a light Faery friend – has been trying to help you.”
“What’s a light Faery?” she asked.
“You. We, the Vampyres, are dark Faery.”
“Oh. How was your friend trying to help me, and why?”
“Teilo – he visited your choir –”
“I remember him!”
“He was doing more than trying to find a singer. He wanted to see how you were treated. When he discovered that what we told him was true, he went to the High Priestess to see about freeing you. Unfortunately, the High Priestess is not quite as honorable as one would wish. She’s like your own priestess.”
“You don’t have a high opinion of priestesses.”
“I know one who is good, but she isn’t in a position to help.”
“Tell your friend, Teilo, I thank him for his efforts.”
Harry nodded.
“I wish there was more I could do.”
“You don’t suppose there is any way I could become a dark Faery like you?”
He was startled. Yes, he wished that beyond anything. But to simply take so innocent a life was not part of his coven’s code.
“Do you understand what you’re asking?”
“Tell me.”
“We drink blood. We don’t eat food or drink the things you do. If we go out in sunlight we burst into flame. We’re not truly alive.�
�
She reached out and took his hand. He was startled. He hadn’t touched the girl before now. Her hand was warm. He’d nearly forgotten that. He was used to looking on Humans as food, so he didn’t translate their warmth as similar to Faeries.
“You haven’t tasted my blood.”
“No. We have an oath with Simon. All in our clan feed only on Humans.”
“Have you ever made a Human a Vampyre?”
“We can’t. They have too much blood. They don’t even notice our bite.”
“Someone must have had your blood to turn you into a Vampyre.”
“Yes. Some dark Faeries do drink Faery blood. Our coven doesn’t.”
“And if you bite a Faery, he or she becomes a Vampyre?”
“No. We can make thralls, which are those who have only a little blood taken. They do our bidding, and act as liaisons between ourselves and the light Faery. We can kill them if we drink too much. If we perform the ritual correctly, we can turn them to Vampyres.”
“Could you make me a thrall?”
“Not without Simon’s permission. Why would you want it? You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“I have nothing to live for,” she said, wandering away from him.
“Rhiannon, how old are you?”
“Sixteen. How old are you?”
“One hundred and thirty.”
She gasped and stared at him. “You look –”
“Nineteen? That’s the age I was when I was turned. We don’t age.”
“You sing, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And no one tells you you’re a bad person?”
He looked down. How he wanted to make her a Vampyre! The things he could show her. The time they could spend together. How terrible her life seemed.
He had seen how she was treated, and there wasn’t a trace of exaggeration in anything she’d told him.
They sat together on a tree branch. Harry had never been close to a light Faery for any length of time since joining Shauna Faun. Before that, they’d been food. The scent of her would have brought tears to his eyes if he were capable of tears. He wondered how much of his feeling for her was wrapped up in his love of the scent.
But no. He hadn’t been close enough for that to matter when he lost his heart to her. He had actual feelings for the girl. He didn’t think of her as a meal.
When they parted company that night he told her that they had concerts for the next several nights, and he wouldn’t be able to see her
“In five days’ time I’ll be here again,” he promised.
Five days sounded an eternity to both of them. He gave her a brief kiss on the forehead before he left her. She stared after him in wonder. Then she realized that if she didn’t go home soon she’d bring punishment on herself.
Harry thought of Rhiannon when he awoke after Sunset, and on his way to feed. Once the band began making preparations for their concert, all thought of anything else left his mind. Only when the concert was over and the light Faery came to the cave for autographs did he find himself looking for her and wishing she’d come to the concerts.
Cantares never came to concerts. If they knew about Shauna Faun at all, they considered them pretenders not worthy of their notice. Rhiannon wouldn’t behave that way, but he was certain the Widow Breve would have the girl busy at some task.
How the concert days dragged! He loved the music, loved performing, but during the non-performing time everything felt at a standstill, and he didn’t even enjoy feeding.
Simon noticed Harry’s sadness and tried to distract him. He wished he could take Harry’s mind off the girl, and felt responsible for the situation.
Both thought the girl would be better off and happier as a Vampyre, but they couldn’t simply steal light Faeries without incurring the wrath of the priestess. They would need to tread carefully regarding this girl.
VII
The concerts were, as usual a great success. Fans followed the thralls to the cave after the concerts to talk with the members of the band and get autographs.
On the night of the last concert, one of those who came back with the fans was another Vampyre. Despite her attempt to disguise that fact from the light Faeries, all of Shauna Faun recognized the presence of another dark Faery.
“It looks like we have company,” Zoe said to him.
Simon saw her across the room and approached, allowing the others to mingle with the fans.
“We don’t usually have others of our kind as fans,” he said.
“I have admired your work for some time.”
“Indeed?”
“Are you the leader?”
“I am. I’m Simon Mallow. And you are?”
“I am Nuala. I would like to join you, but I suppose you are a closed coven.”
“Not at all. We were all rogues at one time.”
“Were you, indeed?”
“Why did you choose our coven?”
“The music.”
“Do you sing or play an instrument?”
“Both. I play bodhran and flute.”
“We will have to audition you. And we have certain rules.”
“No feeding off fans?”
“No feeding off light Faery.”
“At all?”
“At all,” Simon replied seriously. “We feed on Humans. We have an agreement with the priestesses –”
“You have traffic with the witches?” she scoffed.
“They keep our secret and we leave theirs alone. Everyone who joins us takes a blood oath.”
She looked shocked. “I had heard you were a just and generous leader. You sound more insane than just.”
“Think of us what you will. Speak to the others. They will give you insight.”
“So, you have them all glamoured?”
Simon laughed. “You’ve not been a Vampyre long if you believe that’s possible.”
She straightened and looked angry. “I have been a Vampyre for a hundred years.”
“And you think we can glamour one another? All of my coven come here freely, and obey the blood oath. They are also free to leave at any time.”
“Does one have to belong to your coven to be a member of Shauna Faun?”
“Yes. We can’t worry about renegades attacking the light Faery. Not everyone can live as we do. But I invite you to speak with the others and get their opinions.”
“I will think about it. Must I make an appointment to speak with you again?”
“No, not at all. We could use another musician, so I hope to see you again.”
She thanked him and turned to leave. She saw Harry and watched his interactions with the light Faeries for a few moments before going on her way.
“That was strange,” Simon remarked as Zoe approached him. The entrance area was nearly empty now.
“What did she want?”
“She was interested in joining Shauna Faun.”
“Will we take her?”
“I don’t know. She has to audition, naturally, and she was hesitant to commit to the blood oath.”
“Many were at first, weren’t they? At least those who were already Vampyres.”
“She might be a handful. I’m not sure we’d really want her. But I won’t make any decisions now. We’ll see if she returns.
“Did she think she’d observe us unawares?”
“I don’t know. She claims to be one hundred years old, and yet she apparently believes I’m capable of glamouring the entire coven.”
Zoe laughed. Is there any Vampyre who can do that?”
“None that I’ve heard of. I wonder if someone had her convinced it could be done. Perhaps she was testing me to determine the honesty of my words.”
“How many dishonest Faeries do you know, dark or light?”
“Beyond the Browns and Artemis, I’ve met but few. But I’d not rush to judgement. Her accent gave her away as one from Colm’s lands. Perhaps she has dealt with a different breed of Faery entirely. We will see wh
at happens.”
*
Harry was gone the next evening before any of the others were out of their lairs. He couldn’t wait to see Rhiannon.
He crept up to the clearing by the stream. She hadn’t seen him yet, and stared down at the water as it plummeted over the rocks and down into the pool below. He could tell by her posture that sadness had taken up most of her time since she’d seen him last.
Her long, dark hair hid her face as she looked down. He didn’t often see her with her hair hanging free. It enchanted him even more for that.
“I’m here,” he whispered, approaching her.
She looked at him, and he saw tears threatening, but her lips turned in a smile.
“It seems so long! I hoped I’d see you again.”
“I told you I’d come. How has your life been?”
She shrugged. “As it ever is. When can I become like you?”
How he wanted her to be like him. Yet, to encourage her was to deny her a normal life.
“Don’t you want to marry someday? Don’t you wish for children?”
She laughed. “Harry, who would marry me? I have no chance for children. And I don’t know that I want children. I wouldn’t wish to bring anyone into such a harsh life, certainly not in the Cantares clan.”
“There are other clans, clans that would welcome you. Only two more years stand between you and freedom.”
“Only your refusal to make me one of you stands between me and freedom. But I see you don’t feel any kindlier toward me than anyone else.”
“That isn’t true! I would make you one of us in an instant.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
“Simon forbids it. I have a blood oath with him. He is our leader and decides who can and who cannot be turned.”
“Why do you have such allegiance if he is so harsh?”
“He isn’t harsh. Simon is quite kind. But we must keep peace with the light Faery. The priestesses keep our secret so we can do nothing to make them angry.”
“They would not care about me.”
“I will speak with Simon,” he replied.
Someone called Rhiannon, so Harry disappeared to save her from trouble.
Nuala had returned, and sat with the rest of the coven when Harry returned.
Dark Faery IV: The Cantares Page 3