Together, Peter and Evelina created enough energy to hear the vampire’s voice on the wind. His chuckle danced over the moonlight and fell on them where they stood.
“He’s got her up in the sky,” Peter said.
“Too elevated to see.”
They raced across the plain, the snow nothing to their bodies of stone, their hearts of glass, their eyes of fire. They reached Mount Isjörn as the Hematopes ridged the last descent before the foot of the mountain.
“What have you found?” Peter called to them.
“We lost Finn,” Gerenios said, his eyes down. “The trail is dead, and we went too high for the descendant of man.”
“She’s higher still,” Evelina said. “We must reach the peak.”
Freyit scoffed, and Gerenios nudged him. “We reached the summit, and went over it. They’re not to be found.”
“How’s that possible?” Peter asked, eyeing Gerenios who looked to be keeping a secret.
“Our ways are not yours,” Freyit said, crowding the vampires.
Gerenios put a hand to his companion’s chest, guiding him back down. “Come,” he said. “We’ll let them make their own climb.”
“That’s not necessary,” Evelina said, her chin gesturing upward.
“How—” Peter’s question froze on the air.
They looked up to see a changed vampire, the one who’d returned, towering over them. On a ledge thirty feet above their heads, Huitzilli stood empty-handed, with nothing but his irons to console him.
* * *
Finn took Saba in his arms, pulling her up from the cold rock she’d fallen onto. They’d escaped the hollow above them, but shortly after leaving the fire, they’d felt its loss. Saba’s teeth chattered, and Finn rubbed her outer layer to warm her. His own body was hot, his dalliance with the vampire still ripe on his skin, in his bones, under his nerves. His cheeks burned when he first looked at her, but soon he understood she was oblivious to his humiliation. She’d slept through it all, even the vampire’s bite on her neck. She was pale, her lips rimmed with blue. He wanted to kiss her, to blow the vampire’s heat into her, but he thought better of polluting her with his sorrow.
They didn’t speak, neither of them able to muster the gestures to share their thoughts. His mind was heavy, scarred and torn, the memory of his dalliance as fresh as the moment it happened. He was confused, angry, and most of all ashamed.
Saba was in her own world, one thought mixed with the next. She thought of the vampire who’d taken her but his face was no longer clear. Every time she pictured him, she’d see Peter. His aspect arose in the dimness, as familiar as ever. She longed for him now, wanting to spill the seeds of her being around her for him to pick up and carry away. She also thought of the one she’d met in her dreams, the being of light, and lightness of being. Was it just her own spirit waking her, she thought. She bent her mind to that purpose, let it roam over that problem, searching for a solution in the quiet cold trek down to civilization.
Eventually Saba collapsed. They’d barely begun their descent, her body too numb, her limbs unable to function. Her eyes were open, and she smiled at Finn when he bent over her, whispering her name before picking her up in his arms, and carrying her along the flattest ridge of the peak. He had enough strength for the two of them, an unlimited heat to reignite her fire. He worried, though, their descent would get more treacherous soon. He relieved her as much as he could in the meantime, taking her fatigue into his own body.
Finn and Saba didn’t rush down, but took their time, unwilling to face the truth at the bottom. With each step the young hunter took, he sought the body of the man-beast, hoping he’d been eviscerated by the drop. Then he’d regret those feelings, and wish his captor were with him once again.
The snow hadn’t let up, and Finn decided to make a camp until the skies cleared. Several meters down from where they’d been held captive, he located another place to hide. The den was shallow, but the ledge would serve as a resting place. He laid Saba down, and sat with his back to the opening, wanting to watch her and block her view of the precipice.
Her eyes were shut tight, and Finn placed a hand on her forehead. She gave off little heat, and he wondered if she wasn’t a block of ice. He knew of only one way to keep her warm, but it seemed obscene, despite his good intentions.
When Saba finally opened her eyes, she scowled. “Come here,” she said, lifting her hand to wave him closer. He scurried toward her on all fours, his body slow to shake off the ache. “Lie down beside me.” Again she gestured, and he understood.
The two lay as one for a time, their position like the one the vampire had taken with each of them. Saba couldn’t shake the chills that made her body tremble, and soon she turned to face Finn.
“You must take off your clothes,” she said. His blank stare assured her he didn’t know what she said. She tugged at his shirt. “This,” she said, “take it off.”
She showed him, working to undo the clasps of her own furs. She pulled the strings from her under garment, and by then he’d gotten the gist of her plan. He stripped his chest bare, too, relieved their nakedness remained above the waist. He ached below, afraid she’d see the traces of the vampire’s hands on his loins.
Her skin was soft, her breasts barely two lumps on her chest. He thought of his mother’s figure. He’d seen her naked once, too curious to look away from her voluptuousness. Saba bared her womanhood willingly, unafraid or ashamed of showing her skin. He barely got a chance to admire her nakedness, as she pulled him to her, pressing her chest up against his.
“You’re warm,” she muttered through chattering teeth. “Hold me tighter.”
He gripped her, nuzzling into the curve of her neck. The heat of his breath kissed her skin with the salve she needed, warming her to the bone. They stayed that way for what seemed like forever, exchanging skin, healing one another from the inside out. Saba whispered Finn’s name, as he sighed hers with each exhale he took. Their breathing slowed, their hearts beating in tandem, their souls recognizing the pain of the other. The goddess in Saba used her for her purpose, the vampire in Finn’s tore him apart. They fell asleep, their slumber too deep to rouse ever again.
* * *
Huitzilli put a hand to his chest, tapping it as he’d often done to greet his little one. “Tepin,” he called to her. “I have found you.”
Evelina stood her ground, a moment to deliberate. He’d broken their law, though he’d only just arrived. He was changed, but she wouldn’t forsake him.
“Come greet me properly,” she said. “My spirit longs to touch yours again.”
Peter looked up at their former shipmate, his aspect a mere trace of what it was before. He recognized the Hummingbird nevertheless, the Toltec rising up to float on air.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Peter said. “Meet our kin.” He gestured to the New Men at his side.
“I am sated,” Huitzilli said, his eyes dropping to them, giving them a once-over with one of his finest scowls. The god in him reared his head, forcing Huitzilli to hiss his disapproval.
Evelina stepped forward. “I shall come to you, then.”
Peter followed her, as she took off from the base of the mountain, straight up into the air, using her legs like a catapult to gain height, as Vincent had taught her. In a moment, she was perched on the ledge, a few feet from her ancient trainer. She cocked her head to the side, sensing the change in him. She couldn’t see the entity that possessed him, but Huitzilli’s ever-powerful allure was deadened. That, she knew, was the giveaway.
“Let me kiss you,” she said, opening her arms to beckon him to her.
Huitzilli stepped forward, his hands steady at his sides. He eyed Peter, who gave him a nod, then he moved like a bolt, into the arms of the one he longed to hold. The entity that possessed the vampire gave him leave to renew his favor with the forever one, the god recognizing Evelina, knowing her before she was as she is now. He let them sink into one another, to renew their pledge, to take up their desire onc
e again.
The spark bit Evelina, the old passion between them yelping to be unleashed. She held his head, newly shorn, her cheek pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped about her. His lips brushed her forehead, and she grew weak. The Toltec had been the only one to shake her from the world she knew. He’d pulled her from Vincent for a time, but never in heart, never in mind. But for lust alone, a union gifted her from the one who gave her everything.
“Where have you been?” She whispered.
“Seeking you,” he said. “Renewing the threads of my being. For hours and years, I floated beneath the sea, longing for one thing, this thing.”
“I am glad you’re come, I’ve missed you.” She pulled her head away from his chest, and faced him, her lips tasting the blood on his. “You’ve fed.”
“Heartily,” he said. “But let me sample you once more, Tepin. Bring your wrath down on me, strip me of this skin, and take the god out.” He didn’t know why he said the words, the god inside him having left him to his own devices for a time. At the mention of his possession, the god rose up and pulled Huitzilli from Evelina, breaking their embrace.
“What?” Evelina gasped. The dearth was immediate, his change in manner, his frigidity, his eyes brighter than they were before.
“I must go,” he said. “There’s more for me here, and I must take it.”
Peter stepped forward, unaware anything was wrong with Huitzilli. “We have laws,” he said. “The blood is free but taken without violence. Our donors give willingly.” He reached for the Toltec’s forearm, and the god yanked it away, forcing another hiss up from the vampire’s throat.
Peter dropped his hand, and his gaze, looking from Huitzilli to Evelina. She shook her head, then said to Huitzilli, “Come back to us. We’ve a place for you at our hearth, where the blood is fresh and warm.”
Huitzilli backed away, his feet barely touching the ground.
“Before you go,” she said. “Where is my daughter?”
The Toltec smiled, his eyes glistening with the coming twilight. He raised a finger and pointed upward, then flipped over backwards before racing up the rock face, out of sight.
“We go up,” Evelina said to Peter.
Huitzilli didn’t waste a moment, but took to the wall, his talons making fast work of the climb. The two of them caught up to their friend, but only because he’d let them. He led them up, taking them to the scene of his crime. They reached the hollow before long, in less time than it took for the sky to darken. The evening stars were still blanketed beneath a sheer veil of umber, the sun’s descent lighting its fire in the sky.
Once there, they studied the rock, nothing but a fire to indicate the two had been there at all. Peter licked the stone, sniffing the rock for Saba’s blood. Huitzilli had been careful, not letting a drop get away from him. But he’d been less discerning with Finn, and the young hunter’s spoils were everywhere. Blood mixed with other fluids turned Peter’s stomach and he ached for the newcomer.
“He’s gone,” Evelina said. She stood on the precipice looking down, nothing but empty sky around them. The snow had drifted to the other side of the mountain, the southern face getting pelted now. Huitzilli had left them, bounding over the drop-off, into midair. Whether up or down, they’d track him again, not knowing what kind of damage he could do in the meantime.
Peter had read Evelina’s mind on the way up, and spoke from the hollow. “Which god has taken a hold of him?”
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “But this isn’t my beloved’s doing. This is another entity altogether.”
Peter had considered Vincent, his return inevitable. Why wouldn’t he take the body of one of his own?
“What if this is the only way he can repossess Diomedea?”
“Why would he waste time, why not possess Saba herself?”
Peter shrugged. “Ah, perhaps …”
Their world had suddenly gotten a whole lot bigger than it once was. Not just for those walking among them, but those traveling across worlds and times to convene here, and now.
“We must find them,” Evelina said. “It’s the only way to know.”
“What can Saba tell us?”
“Not her. The other.”
Peter gave her a knowing look, before shaking his shoulders. He could see whose blood she’d tasted on Huitzilli’s lips, and he was relieved. “Saba is safe, then?”
“We must find them both, for no one is safe again.”
It was apparent to Peter the entity in possession of Huitzilli’s mind and body wasn’t friendly. His longtime friend had rejected him with a hostility only worthy of an enemy. He’d suffered for it at first, but after Evelina explained the matter, he recovered.
“We’ve no time,” Peter said, dropping to his knees. Saba’s voice was strong, her pull magnetic, her contact with him renewed.
“What is it?”
Peter held up a finger, begging her silence. Then after a few moments, he stood up and smiled, taking Evelina’s face in his hands, pulling her in for a kiss until all knowledge was transferred.
With their embrace broken, the two went higher, over the top of the mountain to the eastern face of the rock, where Finn and Saba had begun their trek down.
Soon Evelina found her kinblood, the girl wrapped in the arms of the one who’d saved her. The two were asleep, but Evelina held Peter back, his urge to rush toward Saba overwhelming. She put a finger to her lips, and Peter knew she’d a plan. She wrangled their energy, keeping them asleep as he picked up Saba and she carried Finn down the mountain, across the plain of snow, and through the birch trees into the warmth of my nest where I greeted my matriarch with my heart in my hand, and my soul tied to the tether about her corse.
* * *
I invited my father and Freyit to convene in my home, where we could speak our minds more easily than in theirs. As we waited for them, Evelina apprised me of their presence on the mountain, their climb up, and their confrontation with Huitzilli. She also told me about the way he was, and the fear she had that he’d been possessed by another.
“How do you know it’s not Vincent?” I asked. “He may be capable of shifting now.”
“He may, yes. But he hasn’t.”
I looked over at Peter who was standing at the edge of the room, between this one and the one where Saba lay. Both she and Finn hadn’t woken yet. It would be a while before they came around, but Netta tended to both of them with equal care in the meantime.
“How do you know?” I was adamant to be sure, and she gave me the leeway to be.
“I saw it in his eyes,” she said. “I felt it in his energy. I heard his frequency.”
“Was it Huitzilli’s?”
“He’s broken.” Her eyes went downward, sadness tugging at their corners. “He’s not himself.”
“Is he dangerous?”
Peter stepped forward. “This isn’t where our time should be spent. We’ve got bigger things to worry about.” He motioned with his head to Saba’s room.
“Is she in danger?”
“I think whoever or whatever possesses him may want what—or who, I should say, she’s become.”
“Diomedea?”
Evelina threw a glance at Peter. “You weren’t wise to tell him so much,” she said to him. “He can’t understand.”
“Then explain it, mormor.”
Evelina tossed her head to the side and motioned for me to step out with her. “Peter will watch the others.”
The two of us left for the sunlight outside, my ancestor cloaked in her robe. She led me to a natural pergola on the homestead, but not too close to the cottage.
“Is my Saba safe?” I said before she had a chance to speak.
“Let me see if I can explain this in a way you’ll understand.”
I faced her, but her gaze was down and away. She was contemplating her confession.
“I’ve handled much over the years, I think I can—” She halted my speech with her hand, holding it out in the direction
of my throat. Like Vincent, she controlled me physically and forced her way in mentally. She’d never done anything like it before, and I felt at once violated and thrilled.
My body remained on the ground but my senses rose up into the air. She told me afterward it was my spirit out through time, like Vincent had done when he brought me onto the ship with him. I’d become pure consciousness.
Once again the experience is different to record in language, it is more a matter of sensation than anything. I felt myself rise up, I felt myself shrink, I felt myself become nothing but air. Sight and sound were still plausible and I saw and heard the scene Evelina pressed on me. I found myself in a forest much like the one Peter had taken me to, and I recognized Diomedea’s world. I saw her too, from afar, her long locks and bright skin, her svelte body difficult to miss amidst the green. She was bent over, and my spirit was shuttled to her side. As I got close, I saw the babe at her feet. The child was larger than a newborn but squealed with an angst only experienced among those just born.
Diomedea put her hand on the child’s chest and shook it, hushing it with a soft lull. The baby girl looked up at her and smiled, her lashes as long as those of my girls. I sensed a love for the child the instant I saw her. I knew she was a part of me. Diomedea turned her head to the side before I too heard the sound. The coming hooves stomped, making the path tremble at her feet. She looked at the child again, and this time her face changed, a scowl rising up to harden her. She whispered something, spoke to the babe in her tongue, then slid her hand into her vest, pulling out a shiny, serrated instrument. The blade had a point, the dagger an object of menace in the face of the squealing infant.
I was powerless, unable to affect the scene before my eyes. Forced to watch, my soul cried at the sight of the blood, spilled on the forest floor. The air grew quiet, the hooves on the ground deadened at the sound of silence. No, I heard the cry of another coming at me, through me, out of me. No! The man’s voice trembled, his shock palpable in his timber. No …
Grief For Heart: The Vincent Du Maurier Series, Book 4 Page 17