Dominique inclined her head, more of an acknowledgement of one monarch to another than the respect of a subject to her prince. Julien nodded, a short, jerky movement that spoke more of nerves than disrespect. Etienne bowed politely.
“I have, of course, heard of you, Madame Laveau. You are well respected by my people.”
“As are you, Your Majesty.”
Sammal pointed near the window. “And this is Prince Kirill of Dacia.”
Kirill was studying the pair with his usual intensity, no doubt taking inventory of possible weapons. He also bowed, more to Dominique than to Julien, though Julien was in no state to notice. Saamal noted with resignation that the pirate was swallowing hard far too often than was necessary. Introductions would need to be rushed then.
“And this is Prince Adonis of Nysa and Prince Patricio of Meropis,” he finished, gesturing to the demon and the angel in turn. He faced the pair again, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. “My companions and I have invited you here because we are building a kingdom—a hidden kingdom, if you will. The land you stand in now is newly created, and you are one of the first to step foot on this soil. Obviously very few rulers have the opportunity to build their kingdoms from the ground up, so to speak, and after careful consideration, we think the two of you would be a valuable asset to our vision for this land.”
“How did you get Ogou to give you my debt?”
The desperation in Julien’s voice warned of a panic so deep-seated that it might well morph into rage if not acknowledged and diffused. His fingers spasmed periodically now, clearly itching to free his dagger from its sheath.
Quick answers then.
“I happen to know of an island where they brew a rum so strong that it has been incorporated into a rite of passage for young men.” Saamal looked to Dominique, guessing that she would be the one to reassure her husband. “Ogou was intrigued enough both by the rum and the prospect of influencing young lives, that he was willing to exchange your debt for the location of this island.”
“And am I to understand that all you desire from my husband is his—and my—presence here in your…hidden kingdom?” Dominique waved a delicate hand in the air.
“Yes.”
“And what would our positions be in this kingdom?”
“You would be a lord and lady of this land. You would enjoy a level of wealth comparable to what you have now—indeed you may bring with you anything you like from your current abode. As we bring more people in, you will help keep the peace, settle disputes and such. Not dissimilar to the work you do now, Madame Laveau.”
Dominique seemed to mull that over, brown eyes sliding over the occupants of the room. Her husband, unfortunately, had none of his wife’s calm—or decorum.
“I’ve heard of you,” he blurted out.
Dominique grabbed her husband’s hand and squeezed, but Julien didn’t take his eyes off Saamal. His brown eyes darkened, swallowed by the blackness of his other form. The air in the room crackled with wild energy, the potential of a coming storm. Saamal heard the rustle of feathers that alerted him to Patricio’s movement. He held his breath, straining to hear the sound of a sword being unsheathed. A low murmur came from Adonis’ position by the fireplace, followed by more bristling feathers. The demon was trying to calm the angel. An attempt Saamal feared would be futile if Julien continued to let his fear feed his temper.
“You are a god of blood and sacrifice, the stuff of nightmares.” Julien’s voice held the distant echo of thunder. “You expect me to believe that you want nothing more from me than to…manage your property?” Julien gestured at Saamal’s plain black tunic and grey pants and laughed, a semi-hysterical sound. “You expect me to believe that this plain façade is the real you?”
Saamal arched an eyebrow. “You believe I’m being deceitful because I am not what you have been led to expect?”
Dominique tugged on Julien’s arm again, fixing Saamal with a firm look. “He does not believe you are being deceitful.”
“Perhaps just not as honest as you could be,” Julien pressed, ignoring his wife’s nonverbal urge for caution. “You must realize how disconcerting it is for us to find the front you put forth to be so different to what witnesses have described. How am I to believe that the terrifying god that frightens everyone so is the same quiet man who stands before me? The man whose kingdom is built upon a monster, who is known for nothing more than the bloody sacrifices that have marked your reign?”
Heat stirred inside Saamal. Primal instinct, the fierce desire to defend his land, his people. The beast inside him raised its head, feline eyes alert, piercing. Ready to come forth and paint him in the colors of the Jaguar King.
“Do you want me to frighten you?” Saamal’s voice was soft, but it held the purr of his feline form, the monstrous black jaguar that had inspired so many fearful tales among his people. It would be so easy to give in to that form, to show Julien the face he seemed to need so badly to see.
Dominique tensed like a deer sensing a predator, her hand tightening on her husband’s arm, abandoning all attempts at subtlety. She pulled, hard, trying to force him to break eye contact with Saamal, to end a standoff he had no hope of winning. Her husband didn’t look at her, didn’t take his eyes from Saamal’s.
Saamal filled his lungs with the scent of the man before him. The aroma of blood, never far from his mind, filled his nostrils, infusing his veins with adrenaline. Even through skin, the perfume of Julien’s life essence called to him, a song of life and vitality. His leg ached, a reminder of his own sacrifice so long ago—and not so long ago. Screams of past sacrifices echoed in his ears, contrasting with the sharp, but brief, hisses of pain that now filled the air when his land was fed its due. His connection to his land, his people, making their offerings more than memories. Made them a part of him.
Power flared over his skin, filled his senses. Awareness spread, the minds of those in the room with him fluttering against his consciousness like the wings of butterflies. He looked into Julien’s eyes, and this time, he looked at him as a god looks upon a man. He looked on him and saw inside him, deep enough to share the visions now filling Julien’s mind.
Through Julien’s eyes, he saw himself change. Copper skin darkened in places, rippled with the spotted fur he wore as the Jaguar King. He smiled, and now his mouth was full of sharp teeth, his breath carrying the metallic tang of blood and the memory of devoured flesh. His eyes, always black, were now drowning pits of shadow that clouded the mind and soul if looked upon too deeply.
Drums echoed from some place beyond this existence and deep inside Saamal, a hunger stirred. A desire to go out into his kingdom, to test the strength of the men, the faith of the women. To see who would shed their blood for the land that gave everything it had for the people who relied on it.
“You smell like a bird.”
Julien’s eyes widened, fully avian now. His skin rippled, softening with the brush of rising feathers. Saamal’s jaw tingled, saliva forming as he watched the shadow of a lightning bird shimmer before him.
“Saamal.”
Etienne’s voice. The echo of a growl, a hint of the lycanthrope’s inner wolf. A feline snarl bled into the high-pitched cry of a great cat. Saamal blinked, surprised to find he was facing the werewolf now, teeth bared, jaw aching with the urge to bite down and feel bloody flesh against his teeth…
Dominique bowed her head, but did not take her eyes off Saamal. “You have honored us with your offer.”
The sound of the drums faded, reason coming back to him, chasing away the shadows. His next breath came easier, was free of the scent of blood.
“We will accept your invitation,” Julien added, hooking his thumbs in the belt at his waist.
Saamal refocused on Julien like a man struggling to wake from a dream. The image of the lightning bird was gone, the pirate fully human again. He was no longer sweating, no longer vibrating with the desperate energy he’d arrived with, though his body still held the tension of an
animal unsure of its safety. Saamal half expected him to draw his dagger.
Half hoped he would draw his dagger.
A muffled cracking sound tickled Saamal’s ears. He tilted his head to see Etienne standing even closer now, craning his head in either direction so the ligaments in his neck popped. Golden lupine eyes stared at Saamal from the werewolf’s face, the steadiness of his stare a warning.
“We’re all friends here,” Adonis said loudly.
The demon had moved to the center of the room and Saamal realized that he’d placed himself between Saamal and Patricio. The angel was no longer leaning against the wall. He was now standing with his sword halfway out of its sheath, eyes shining pools of brilliant blue light. Adonis held a hand out on either side of him as if he would physically keep them apart. He met Saamal’s eyes, an uncharacteristic seriousness etched into the lines of his face.
“We’re all friends here,” he repeated. “Right, Saamal?”
“Yes.” Saamal’s voice sounded far away to his own ears, echoing down a long tunnel. He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he repeated. He turned to Julien, an apology ready on his tongue. The pirate grinned at him and Saamal’s eyebrows rose. “It calms you to see what you expected to see, even if what you expected to see was…unpleasant.”
Julien shrugged. “I’m a man who likes to know what I’m dealing with.”
Dominique smiled, but the expression was brittle and didn’t nearly reach her eyes. One hand had slid into her pocket, a gesture that would have seemed innocent to Saamal before he’d spent so much time around Kirill. Now he was reasonably certain that Dominique was preparing a weapon of some kind. The tightness around her eyes suggested she did not share her husband’s appreciation for Saamal’s…revelation. “He means ‘who’ he’s dealing with, of course.”
“Of course.” Saamal bowed again, attempting to recapture the civility he’d destroyed with his slip. The power that had risen so hungrily inside him was loathe to settle so soon, and without being fed. Suddenly his clothes were too tight, too constricting. He wanted to leave them behind, to run through the wilderness of his lands, nothing between him and the earth and air…
“Would you like an escort home?” Adonis spoke up. “I would be happy to see you back to your lands. Or you could walk with Etienne since he’s going back to Sanguennay anyway?”
Neither Julien nor Dominique took their eyes off Saamal.
“Or you could stay for drinks?” Adonis suggested.
The demon’s attempts to lighten the mood fell flat, a defeat that was completely foreign to the charismatic incubus. Saamal straightened, drawing his attention inward. An old chant echoed in his mind, a meditation he’d taught to the shamans of his land long ago. He let the ancient words swirl in his thoughts, beat like a steady drum against his consciousness. Like a narrow stream flowing from a mountain lake, the tension drained from his muscles, slowly but steadily. Moments later, his power was once again settled like a cat before a fireplace. Resting. Waiting. Sleeping. For now.
“I will send Tenoch to you tomorrow with the details, if that is satisfactory to you both?” He met Dominique’s eyes, forced himself to stand with his arms at his sides, his chin up—holding himself open for her perusal.
“That would be fine.” Dominique inclined her head. Then she opened a bag at her side, a wide brown leather sack that had been half hidden by her skirt. “I’d like to leave this with you as a small gift, a token of our gratitude for being honored with this invitation.”
“Bourbon.” Saamal accepted the bottle, admiring the rich amber liquid visible behind the brown glass. “Your family’s recipe?”
“Of course.”
A cacophony of clinking glass erupted in the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of a tumbler breaking against the floor.
“Oops.” Adonis appeared at Saamal’s side, his arms full of six glasses—formerly seven, Saamal guessed.
“I’m afraid we can’t stay.” Julien banded an arm around Dominique. “I’ve promised my wife a honeymoon at sea and we have a great deal of packing to do.”
“We leave tomorrow afternoon, so if you send Tenoch in the morning, we should still be there to meet him,” Dominique clarified.
“Excellent.” Saamal twitched in surprise as the bottle of bourbon was liberated from his grasp by an eager demon. He watched with amusement as Adonis juggled empty glasses as he tried wrangle the bottle open with his teeth. “Do try not to spill it, Adonis. There is no bourbon finer than what Madame Laveau has to offer.”
“Madame Marcon,” Julien corrected him. He wrapped an arm around Dominique’s waist. She smiled at him, eyes glittering with what looked suspiciously like mischief.
“Who’s he fooling?” Adonis murmured under his breath, quiet enough that only Saamal could hear. “He’s Monsieur Laveau now.”
Saamal hid his smile behind his hand, rubbing at his jaw to mask the gesture. “Until tomorrow then.”
“Until tomorrow,” Julien agreed, as he reached for the doorknob.
Dominique was still smiling as they left the room and it wasn’t until the door closed behind them that Saamal could make out the faint tone of her voice. Adonis’ assertion echoed in his mind and he wondered if the demon had been right about the last name…
“What in the name of Fenris was that?” Etienne demanded.
Saamal plucked the bottle of bourbon from Adonis’ tenuous grasp and helped the demon pour the alcohol. “What was what?”
“You made Etienne’s fur stick straight up,” Adonis quipped, greedy eyes twinkling as he watched the rich liquid flow into his waiting glass. “And he wasn’t even in wolf form.”
“You weren’t thinking of killing him.” Patricio had settled back against the wall, but seemed lured in their direction by the bouquet of the bourbon. His wings rustled as he shifted, reaching for the glass Adonis offered him. “I would have felt that.”
“I was merely offering him a glimpse of the deity he had expected to see.” Saamal offered a glass to Etienne, but the werewolf made no move to accept it. Saamal stifled a sigh. “Julien came here fearing that his debt had been purchased by a bloodthirsty god who would want to…” He trailed off, searching for the right words.
“Tear out his heart?” Adonis offered.
Saamal’s jaw twitched, a brief flicker of fury heating his blood. He didn’t look at Adonis, didn’t want to meet the demon’s oddly penetrating gaze. “The matter is settled. They have agreed to join the kingdom. Let us leave it at that.”
“You were losing control.” Etienne’s voice did not hold the growl of his beast anymore, but there was a deeper echo to his tone all the same. And he hadn’t moved away from Saamal, still remaining close enough to…what?
I could kill you with so little effort, Etienne. If only you knew how futile your efforts to restrain me would be.
“Patricio, is Saamal thinking of murder now?” Adonis took another sip of his bourbon and licked his lips appreciatively.
Saamal twitched, glancing up at Patricio without meaning to. The angel was watching him over the rim of his glass, blue eyes serious, considering.
“No,” Patricio answered. He tilted his head. “Then again, I would only know if he were considering a sin. Saamal’s violence is not sinful, it is a part of his culture, the heritage of his land.” He took a sip of the bourbon, studying Saamal. “I’m not sure I would know.”
“I meant him no harm—of any kind, of any nature.” Saamal met the eyes of each of his companions in turn, letting them study him as they would. As he’d expected, Kirill was boring holes through him, icy blue eyes lit with the interest that always seemed to consume him when he studied Saamal. The vampire was a fastidious planner, and Saamal knew it nagged at Kirill that he couldn’t fully quantify Saamal’s power.
“You have something to say, Kirill?”
“It has not been so long ago now that you were returned to your full power.” The vampire stepped forward, accepting a glass from Adonis and holding it out
while the demon poured the bourbon. He kept his eyes on Saamal, the gears in his head almost visible as they turned. “It was my understanding that your…subdued nature was a result of missing half of your power. The stories about you from before Aiyana’s curse, before you gave up half your power to keep her alive…they were quite a contrast to the Saamal we all met that first night at the World Tree.”
“Ah.” Slowly, Saamal turned and paced back to his seat by the fire, keeping his movement slow and unthreatening. He settled himself in the chair, cradling his glass of bourbon in his hands as he met Kirill’s stare once again. “You want to know if I’ve changed then. If what you saw here tonight was indicative of further changes.”
“It seems a prudent question.”
A quick answer would be seen as a lie, as any question of such magnitude should always be given careful consideration. In accordance with that belief, Saamal forced himself to sit quietly, thinking, considering Kirill’s concern. It was true that he was more powerful now than he had been in a very long time. And it was true that he was not the same being he had once been. The question was, then, did the return of his power mean a return to the being he was? Or would he become something new entirely?
The answer came to him all of a sudden, so obvious that he felt foolish for not thinking of it to begin with. He smiled.
“The return of my power came with my marriage and bond to Aiyana. Whatever this increase in power makes of me, my wife will see to it that the end result is more man than monster.” He raised a glass to Kirill. “Not unlike the effect your wife has had on you.”
The mention of Irina had an immediate and startling effect on the vampire. Warmth lit his eyes, turning the icy blue to the shade of a robin’s egg. His face softened, the love he felt for his wife evident in every shifting line of his body.
“That being said, I agree that my reaction to Julien should not be dismissed.” Saamal tapped the arm of his chair. “It would seem I did not consider the possible side effects of accepting Julien’s debt. He has become one of my people, in a way, and facing him as myself, calling my power as the god of my people…” He stared into space, seeing his kingdom, the land built on the flesh and blood of a monster. “He will need to make a sacrifice to Cipactli.”
Blue Voodoo: A Romantic Retelling of Bluebeard (The Hidden Kingdom Series Book 2) Page 23