The old vampire tisked, trying to act as if she didn’t care but Ash saw the tension she was holding onto. Something had set the vampire on edge and Ash intended to find out what.
“I’m glad you’re not mad at me anymore.”
“I never said that,” Ash snapped.
Yukihime smiled despite Ash’s obvious anger. “But you’re still here and that’s what matters. Don’t think I didn’t notice how worried you were when you first came in.”
Ash couldn’t deny that. It was simple habit, falling into old ways. That’s what she told herself anyway. “I only came for my biblos.” A pythia’s spell book was sacred. That Yukihime thought she could keep it from Ash was beyond reason.
Outside, Malik’s thoughts stirred but he didn’t send out a direct statement.
Yukihime stuck her lip out in a thoughtful pout. “Is that all?”
“What is this all about? What are you scheming now?”
“I’m not scheming,” she answered with a lot of emphasis on the last word.
Ash, not believing her, sighed, shaking her head.
Yukihime gave her own sigh and stretched out, laying on the floor on her side. “I needed to be sure.”
“Sure of what exactly?”
“Tristan.”
Ash tensed for more than one reason. Malik was expressing his opinions of the man and Ash was having a hard time ignoring them. “Explain.”
“Oh dear,” Yukihime said in a tone that was more norm. “There is nothing to say on it really. Just an old vampire being senile.”
“Yukihime,” Ash said in a firm tone. She was still angry with the old vampire for the part she played in her and Tristan’s fate. She ruined so much, Ash wasn’t sure it could be fixed anymore.
“You’re afraid of him.”
Ash flinched. “I—no. Of course not, don’t be so absurd.”
“Yes,” Yukihime insisted and sat up. “You are.”
“No, not him. I—” She looked away and then forced herself to meet Yukihime’s eyes again. “Lilith, all of the things she has seen and spoken of… I am afraid of her truths.”
“Ah, now that I believe. So after all of these long years, you are finally trusting the things she speaks of?”
Ash curled her nose up at the old Master vampire. “Fear and doubt are two completely different things.”
“That is the truth.” Yukihime let out a long breath and stretched. “How about some tea, my dear?”
“Yukihime?”
“Oh yes, of course. How silly of me, we cannot drink tea.”
“Some, perhaps.” Ash always found it queer that they could tolerate alcoholic beverages and none other. But then, she’d always had this theory of the “spirit” of spirits and what vampires really took from living blood. No one else but a pythia would ever entertain her wild theories; vampire most of all, so afraid of change and truth.
“Yes, but not the amount I would like.”
Ash considered her for a moment, head cocked to the side. “Do you often think of such things? Wanting to be… human again?”
The other woman burst into laughter. “Oh my dear, I wouldn’t be a vampire if I didn’t.”
Ash had to smile. “No, no you would not.”
“How was it being spelled human in Greece?”
“The truth?”
Yukihime nodded. She almost seemed like an adult with that look on her face.
Ash frowned, then straightened looking stern and proud. “Mildly intolerable.”
Yukihime chirped a little laugh. “Sō ka? It couldn’t have been all bad, ne?”
Ash actually felt herself flush as she remembered her favorite part of their entire vacation, parts of France and Greece being part of that trip. She looked away but Yukihime had already seen the blush. “No, not all bad.”
“Your hunger, that must have been nice to do without for once…”
She knew what Yukihime was trying to say and why the old vampire was being obtuse about it was beyond Ash, but she appreciated it nonetheless. “I almost bit him anyway.” The suck mark she’d left on him lingered for weeks. She still wasn’t sure how she managed to not bite.
Yukihime considered her for a long moment before reaching out to run a strand of Ash’s dark hair through her fingers. “So… this is permanent? You’re not wearing an aura.”
Ash nodded. “Permanent. It fixed my eyesight as well.” Lucien nearly destroyed her left eye with his fire, but it had been healing, slowly. Whatever she was spelled with, whatever happened to her to make her look like this fixed everything Lucien wrought.
“Interesting. Ma,” Yukihime said, standing and smoothing out her clothing. “You’re still a vampire. No pythia spell can ever take that from you.”
Ash was afraid of that, but still had to try. There had to be at least one spell to help curb that never-ending hunger. The emptiness all vampires carried in them, that void that could never be filled. “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
Yukihime’s gaze was narrow and dark when she glanced at Ash. “How did it feel?”
Ash looked down at her hands, really thinking about it, trying to find the perfect answer. Finally, she settled on, “Vile. I was still stronger than human, my reflexes faster, and a slave to the sun but I had no advanced hearing, none. And I felt… dull and heavy. Almost completely human in all aspects.” She paused and met Yukihime’s eyes. “I hated it.”
The vampire pouted out her bottom lip, nodding as if she understood. “No. Honestly, I’d never heard of such a spell. And yes, I agree, it does sound vile. But you know, the pythia have been trying for centuries to shift the balance.”
Ash scoffed. “That does not sound like the pythia at all.”
“Well, I suppose it’s only a few. But a few is all it takes to shift fate. Look at what men like Hitler have done, and he was only human—well, partially, but he didn’t know that.”
Ash was shocked and deeply disturbed to hear this, but managed to keep her composure. She thought she knew the pythia even more intimately than any other vampire in existence, born and raised in a pythia home as she was. “Do you know who might be trying to change things?”
Yukihime looked affronted. “Of course I do but I’m not about to tell you.” She looked away, a small pout making her bottom lip stick out. “Not yet anyway.”
Ash heaved a sigh, remaining on her spot on the floor as she watched Yukihime gather up a cast iron tea pot and two very delicate and ancient chawan, or tea bowls. There was no forcing the ancient vampire into anything, not with words anyway. Ash could use her new skills on the vampire. The thought made her smile.
“Perhaps they are getting closer to it finally…”
Yukihime turned, looking angry. “You can say it: to a cure. A cure for vampirism.”
Not that Ash ever believed it. But she never would have considered that a pythia would warp fate so purposefully if she hadn’t seen it firsthand. Being spelled human couldn’t get her any closer to firsthand.
“Shishō…” Ash sighed. They’d had this argument before—it was their regular sparring grounds. “The pythia are not the ones who would see us gone from the earth.”
“No,” Yukihime snapped as she clunked the heavy iron teapot down onto the deck. She lifted the lid and in funneled a serving of snow that Yukihime then commanded to return to liquid form inside the pot. Any other Water user would then have to do the natural next step of putting the pot over fire, but Yukihime didn’t need to as she gave a little mental push and the water inside burst into an instant boil.
“No,” she said again as she put the pot down in front of Ash. “The pythia aren’t the ones who have sought to destroy us.”
Ash didn’t like what Yukihime was saying. “Of course not,” she snapped.
The older vampire knelt before Ash with the tea bowls and a tin of tea that Ash hoped was from this century. Last time Yukihime forced tea on her it had been far, far too old and tasted like death. Maybe it all did now that she, herself, was dea
d.
“Did your own memories not lend you anything?” Yuki asked with a bit of a snide tone.
“Now you are just being cruel.”
Yukihime shook her head. “The Uruwashi,” she said and looked up when Ash reacted. “They have been the only ones ever to seek our eradication.”
“Tristan does not. Besides, it’s as you say, it only takes one person to shift fate and it will not be him.”
Yukihime only raised her brow at Ash in question.
“If you are so afraid of his intentions, then why have you allowed him to live all this time? Why use him?”
The ancient vampire smiled and arranged the tea bowls between them.
Ash let out an annoyed huff and moved to stand. “If you are just going to play these mind games with me then I will wait for the others return in another room.”
Yukihime jerked forward to stop Ash from leaving. “Onegaishimasu,” she gasped. “I wish you to stay… please.”
Ash slumped. The fact that Yukihime used such a formal version of please and even said it twice, it appealed the softer side of Ash. The side she’d all but lost to her dead Master. The side that Tristan was slowly reviving. She really wanted to believe with all her person that he was good for her, but, and she hated the feeling at all, there was a sliver of doubt. He was an Uruwashi, sworn killers of her kind. They were both willing to overlook the past if it meant a happy future. But Yukihime seemed to have doubts and that worried Ash.
“You really do love him, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Ash said in a soft voice, eyes full of longing. “More than anyone.” She was starting to realize, that for the first time in a very long time, she missed being around another person. Not to misunderstand, she loved Haruka, very much, but she did not feel this uncontrollable urge to constantly be with her like she did with Tristan. The urge, she had to keep reminding herself, was not in her blood, but in her heart.
“I have faith in him,” Yukihime said plainly. “I have faith in fate. That is why I let him live. We need him, all of life on Earth needs him.”
So she constantly said. Ash raised a brow at her. “You’re just testing him. Why, for what?”
Yukihime’s expression lit up. “Not only Ryōshi-san…”
7: I’ll be Here Awhile
NOW that we are alone, we can speak freely,” Wren said.
Tristan lowered his sword, letting the tip just graze the ground. “You think I have trouble with speaking freely?”
The vampire smiled a real smile, all fang and honesty. “No. You don’t seem the shy type.” The smile slipped as he considered Tristan again with some scrutiny. “You’re not bitten, are you?”
“‘Scuse me?” It was natural instinct that made Tristan lash out. He was grateful to his obstinate side since it helped hide his surprise.
Wren took a step forward and Tristan automatically moved away, keeping distance between them. “You’re the one that’s said to have killed Malik.”
Relaxing slightly, Tristan lowered his blade again. His arms were getting tired and this guy didn’t have an air of malice about him anymore. “Sure did. What of it?”
“I should thank you, he was a revolting vampire. Not abnormal, mind you, to our kind, but revolting nonetheless. However,” he sighed and returned his sword to its scabbard on his left hip. “I don’t believe you acted alone. He was too old and you are obviously not an awakened Uruwashi.”
“Oh yeah?” he tried to bluff his way through this. “And what makes you say that?”
Wren got this strange look on his face and came for Tristan. Wren tackled him and Tristan tumbled to his back. Hands grabbed his wrists and pinned them under his chin so that he had no leverage.
“An educated guess.” Wren tilted his head to side, eyes straying down to Tristan’s neck. Up this close Tristan could see the edge of scars peeking out from under his mask. “I don’t suppose you’ll give me a taste?”
It took everything in Tristan not to lash out needlessly. He was learning not to be impulsive. His efforts didn’t always pay off but he hoped they would this time. He just had to keep his head.
“That’d be a negative. Now, you mind?”
Wren considered him a moment, only his one good eye showing emotion. Enough that Tristan could almost guess what the man was about to say just before he said it. “You smell of Ash of Earth.”
He couldn’t hide his surprise this time. Okay, that wasn’t what he thought the man was going to say.
“How do you know Asta Moriakos?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Who are you? And what the fuck is going on?”
Wren let go of Tristan’s arms and sat up, keeping the other man pinned under him. “Are you always so rude?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
Wren just gave him a look.
With a surge of adrenalin and maybe a touch of panic, Tristan forced Wren off him and to the snow on his back. He laid blade of his katana across Wren’s throat to show him he was serious. “Now listen to me, fang faced fuck, you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on or I’m going to press down and slice your pretty little head off, no regrets.”
“And you wonder why others see you as surly.”
Tristan pushed enough to draw blood. “I really won’t mind killing you.” Too bad he would.
Wren blinked at him, one of those long slow, thought-processing blinks. “I don’t believe that. And if you do, you’re just lying to yourself.”
“That—”
“If you’re not going to cut my pretty little head off, I’d like to get up now. Vampire aren’t affected by the cold, but we still feel it and I rather dislike being cold.”
Tristan frowned, considering his options. He didn’t really like either of them: A) Follow through and kill this guy even though he had no proof of wrongdoing or B) Let him go until said proof arises and just hope for the best. With a groan Tristan let the vampire up.
“Thank you,” Wren said casually as he brushed the snow from his clothing.
Tristan took several large steps back, giving himself some reaction space. “Okay, let’s try this again. I’m Tristan, nice to meet you.” He made a flamboyant gesture to indicate that he expected Wren to reciprocate.
Fixing his clothing, Wren mumbled softly, “Finally, some manners…” He straightened, rolling his shoulders and then presented a deep bow. “Tsukahara Toshiro. Hajimemashite. I go by Wren though, please.”
“Fantastic. Now that we all know each other, mind telling me what’s going on? How do you know Ash?”
The vampire frowned with half his face, the rest hidden behind the mask and veil of hair. “I could ask the same of you. Then again, she always did have a soft spot for the underdog.”
“What makes you think I’m the underdog?”
“You’re an Uruwashi in the twenty-first century, that makes you an underdog. Especially if you’re not bitten.”
“Who says I’m not?”
“Oh please, must we play this pointless game?”
Tristan huffed, but didn’t bother with more needless answers. He made a big show of sheathing his sword and pulling his gun, pulling the slide loudly, before letting it hang at his side in his hand. He felt a thousand times better with the gun. “She’s my bodyguard.”
That single brow raised high. “Nan dato?”
“That’s right, my bodyguard.”
“She always did have a protective streak.”
Tristan huffed. “What are we doing here, huh? Shooting the shit?”
Wren let out a long breath. “Are you, or are you not, the one Akane sent for?”
“Huh?” he grunted ineloquently.
Wren shifted on his feet, looking irritated. “What did she tell you?”
“Look, I’m here for her troll problem. You were just an added bonus.”
Wren let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Naruhodo.” When he looked up again it seemed like he might have been trying not to smirk. “So you will kill me now
for my indiscretions?”
“If the fang fits.”
“And how do you verify these indiscretions?”
Huh, good question. It wasn’t like he could bite the vampire and see their life. So how did he confirm a vampire’s guilt? Oh, right, that’s what Ash was for. “I, uh…”
“I assure you, Tristan of the Uruwashi, that I have not killed any innocent on purpose in nearly one hundred and two years. I could give you the exact count before that, if you’d like.”
He wasn’t sure he bought that, but he didn’t have time to harp right now. “And Oogui?”
“That vile monstrosity… I swear upon my honor that I’ve nothing to do with her but an unfortunate unrequited attraction.”
Tristan frowned at other man. Troll, while hating all other races, including their own, were known for their particular attachment to the vampires. The feeling was never mutual and Tristan could see why now that he’d met a real live troll in person. He hoped it would be his last.
“Oh, so this is your first time seeing one?”
Cringing to himself at his carelessness, Tristan threw up with mental block with an ironclad hold. He couldn’t afford for Wren to read anything more from him, no matter how insignificant it might seem. Not until he understood this man. And there was only one way to find out.
Tristan’s smile came off more like a sneer. “You’re pretty good at reading my thoughts, for a vanilla.”
The vampire looked deeply upset by Tristan’s accusation. “That is just rude.”
“I’m right, aren’t I? Because,” he said with a lot of theatric, “if I’m right that means no seikonō. The kitsune said you were the one drowning those people, but you’re not. Not if you’re only a vanilla.”
Wren smiled. “You’re not as simple as you look.”
“And I’m rude?” he muttered more to himself more than anything. “You know who it is, don’t you?”
Wren tilted his head to the side, considering him for a moment. The movement pulled all of the hair he wore over his face away from him, giving Tristan a better view than when he was pinned before. Even from across the distance between them he could see the edge of scars that trailed out from under the mask and down the man’s neck, dipping down past his collar. Tristan wondered how far they went and how he got them.
White Lies: (The Uruwashi Series #4) Page 7