There was noise everywhere – people laughing and talking, boisterous and also more than a little drunk. She watched the bottles of alcohol go by on trays, and the steaming hot food following. Desmond eventually settled beside them.
“There will be rooms available upstairs in half an hour,” he said. “They won't be top quality, but they will do for privacy. You should order some food.” He turned to Nathaniel, guessing at his growling stomach. “You haven't eaten in an hour; that's not like you.”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes as he grabbed at the menu. Sienna leaned forward on the bench, looking at a menu without understanding. Desmond scanned it quickly and then shook his head.
“I don't think you should eat anything here, little one,” he said, after a moment. “The rations will have to do. Hmm?” he indicated her rucksack, and she nodded. To keep herself entertained, she pulled out a notebook from school, turning it to the page she was supposed to be working on.
“Steak,” Nathaniel said after a moment. “I don't care what kind it is. Liquor, strong, double. Can you order for me? I'm going to call into the palace.”
Desmond was surprised at Nathaniel's order of alcohol, but he said nothing to the effect, leaning back so his former Tiro could get by. Alcohol was a grey area for witches. It wasn't expressly forbidden, but it obviously could distract. Aside from a glass of wine at dinner, Desmond usually didn't indulge. But Nathaniel was twenty-five, and his energy had yet to cease. Desmond decided if he wanted a drink after a stressful day, there was no harm in it. Besides, with the sun set and the night pitch black, there was nothing more they could do tonight. For now, they could only hope that whoever had Eliza was treating her well.
Chapter 14
The food was surprisingly good for a little tavern in the middle of nowhere. It was hot, and full of flavor, which was more than Desmond had hoped for. He was watching his com-link half the time, as Mariah forwarded him messages from the palace. They hadn't thought of the dead family line, but Nathaniel's call had set them in motion. As soon as they tracked anyone possibly related down, they would let them know.
Desmond had been worried about Mariah for no other reason than he was always protective of her. But to his delight, she actually seemed to be having a wonderful time being an interim queen. Her messages didn't show any stress, aside from the fact that she was worried about Sybil, who still hadn't checked in. That news set a darker cloud over Nathaniel, who had fallen into silence at the corner of the table.
Determined to not lose the situation, Desmond turned to Sienna who had been filling out worksheets for school.
“We need to contact the Jurors and do a quest report of our first day,” he said. “Do you want to do that?”
She paused, taking his com-link from him. The screen for a quest report was already up, but it was in Basic. Her eyes scanned over it, and she bit her lip, deep in thought. She then looked to Desmond, confused.
“Why now?” she asked. “Not…convenient? Distracting?”
“Yes,” Desmond agreed. “The distractions make it hard. But if we do not keep them up-to-date on us, they will have no idea what happened if something went wrong. These reports must be sent in daily, no matter what the circumstances are. That's how they knew that Sybil was missing right away.”
Sienna snuck a glance at Nathaniel who had ordered a second drink and was leaning against the wall behind his bench. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“That is true,” he managed, at last.
“But we will not…go away,” she said, and Desmond smiled.
“We can hope that. But we don't know for sure.”
“No, we know,” she said. “We will come back and be martyrs.”
Nathaniel choked on his drink at the point. “Sorry?” he asked. Desmond seemed equally confused.
“We don't want to be martyrs, little one.”
“Why not?” she asked quickly. “In school, they say, ‘You are martyrs.’”
“We are…” Desmond searched his brain, but it was Nathaniel who figured it out.
“Heroes. You are looking for the word ‘heroes,’ not martyrs.”
This confused her. “What's the difference?”
“Martyrs die for their cause,” Desmond said.
“Heroes also die,” she said softly, and he sighed.
“Yes, but not always,” he said. “And not today. Now, quest report.”
She went to switch it to Jeffroian, but he shook his head.
“In Basic, Sienna.”
“Too long,” she said, but Desmond shook his head.
“It will take as long as it takes.”
“Or,” Nathaniel said, “you could just let her do it in Manorial and be done in five minutes, rather than dragging us through this.”
“No,” Desmond replied, “she will not learn otherwise.”
Nathaniel clearly had more to say on the matter, but he simply sighed, looking in the other direction. It did take about as long as he predicted. He was annoyed by her stumbling speech; by her lack of communication; by her constant questions. Pushing the thoughts to her through the bond didn't make it any easier, for the bond had no language and didn't help her with translation.
By the end of the hour, he wished for the ground to open up and swallow him, he was so impatient. His own com-link had been silent, and his body was drooping.
He had been sending out continuous magical pings for Eliza's life force since they left the palace, and it was taking its toll. Even sitting here in the tavern, he continued, hoping against hope that he would reach her.
But it was always silence at the other end.
Nathaniel had imagined many scenarios for his life with Eliza. Some of them were unrealistic, with them getting married and being a normal family. Some of them mirrored their real lives; she was a queen, and he was a warrior. Some of them involved him staying with the witches; others involved him joining her guard.
He noted that none of the scenarios ever involved Eliza not being in his life. Since he met her as a teenager, his life had always involved her beautiful eyes, her smile, even the tone of her voice. He couldn't imagine a galaxy where Eliza wasn't in it.
When Sienna finally finished, Desmond looked at his timepiece.
“It's time we head to bed,” he said. “There will be much to do, and it's important we are ready for whatever the sunrise brings.”
“You can do that,” Nathaniel said. “I'm going to sit up a bit longer.”
“You should get some rest,” Desmond said, glancing at his drink. “It will be better for you.”
“Luckily, I'm not your Tiro anymore,” Nathaniel replied. “So, I don't actually have to listen.”
“That is abundantly clear,” Desmond said as he signaled for Sienna to rise. She gathered her stuff quickly, and then turned to Nathaniel, confused. It was past six p.m., and she was used to the routine where he was the one who made sure all was well at night. But Nathaniel didn't so much as lift a finger, staring into his mug. “Come on, Sienna.”
“Good night,” she said to Nathaniel, politely. He nodded, but he still didn't move. Desmond sighed, putting a hand on her back to steer her upstairs. It had been so long since he had a Tiro this young, who needed to be supervised in every activity. With Sienna, of course, it was much more complicated. There was medication and treatments, and there was the fact that everything took twice as long for her to understand.
His com-link was almost dead, but when he finally got her to sleep he decided to risk one call before he recharged it for the night.
“You should be asleep,” Mariah said to him when she answered.
“Are you asleep?” he asked, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
“No, not yet,” she admitted. “They keep seeming to have issues that they come to me with.”
“And I'm sure you are solving them wonderfully,” Desmond said. “Perhaps being a queen suits you.”
“It may suit you, but I can't wait to go home,” she said, and then paused. “Do
you have a moment?”
“I do,” he said. “Sienna is asleep, and Nathaniel has remained downstairs. What is it?”
“The Jurors notified me today about Sybil's quest. She's been out of communication too long now, so I have a right to be notified in case I have any clues.”
“And?” he asked, his heart pounding in his chest.
“She was on the path of a hitman,” Mariah said. “They wouldn't tell me anymore, but they told me enough to suggest some places she might have gone to hold out and their strategy.”
“And her Tiro? Any news?”
“None,” Mariah replied. “I suppose it’s a good thing that neither of them have turned up. They are together, and they are fine. Just deep into the quest.”
“Mm,” Desmond said, and Mariah sensed his mood.
“How is Sienna doing?”
“As well as she can,” Desmond answered. “Sienna does not worry me, for I know that she will always do whatever she is capable of. But Nathaniel's response to her has not been when I hoped for.”
“They are very different,” Mariah said. “And while that may be good for him, it will take a while for him to adjust.”
“Maybe,” Desmond answered with a shrug. “Or maybe I've done wrong in pairing the two of us together for her. Sienna will always require an enormous amount of care, and despite the fact that I trained Nathaniel, our views are very different. Perhaps it would have been better if the two of us were more similar in our views.”
“If you and I had taken her on, perhaps?” Mariah questioned, and Desmond sighed.
“Maybe. The Jurors never would have allowed that, though. They already suspect our relationship is out of hand.”
“The Jurors can shove it,” Mariah answered. “Do you think Nathaniel will fall away from her as a Tiro?”
“No,” Desmond answered. “But I am worried he will be angry about it until the end of his days.”
“Or hers,” Mariah said dryly. “It's a reality that you have to face.”
“I know,” Desmond answered. “But death is natural; death is inevitable. After going through Reynolds' abandonment, I feel I can handle the death of a Tiro from a cause I expected.”
“There are some who say what you are doing is very brave,” Mariah said to him, speaking softly. He could tell that she was lying in bed just as he was. They were so far apart, but it felt as they were right beside each other.
“And the others?” he asked. “Not that it matters.”
“There are others who say you are walking a grey line, and that you are a witch who chooses another path than the one the Jurors deem fit at all times,” she laughed. “So, the same as always, really.”
“Yes,” Desmond agreed with a smile. “I don't mind that they say that.”
“I know that you don't,” she said. “I'm just your ears for when you are away.”
“Unless you mind that they say that when you are at my side,” he said, and she chuckled.
“Let them say it. You are a hero, I know it, and the Jurors know it.”
He laughed at that. “Do you know what Sienna called us today?” he asked. “She meant to say hero, but she was convinced the word was martyr.”
“Uh,” Mariah replied, “that's a big difference.”
“I know that,” Desmond answered. “But it took a moment to convince her otherwise.”
“Kids these days,” Mariah said, and he laughed. A yawn over took him then, and he tried to move the com-link.
“Oh, I should go to bed,” he said.
“Old man,” she teased him. “We used to stay up talking half the night.”
“When we were Nathaniel's age,” Desmond said. “And even then, I cursed the dawn. I never understood those who run on little sleep by choice. It's not worth it.”
“But the words we spoke in those nightly calls…”
“Mariah,” he scolded her, and she laughed. “Go to bed, too. Try to get some rest, for we never know what we will need our strength for in the morning.”
“That is true,” she said. “I will call you if there are any updates.”
“Please do,” he said. There was an awkward pause on the other end of the phone, and he wanted to tell her that he loved her. But that was not proper by any stretch of the imagination. So instead, he took the easier route. “Good night.”
“Good night,” she said, and the line went dead.
He stared at it a moment as if it still held her essence. Eventually, he put the com-link on his nightstand to recharge and rolled over. He used his magic to flick out the lights, reaching out to Sienna on the other side of the wall. She was asleep, her mind at ease. He considered reaching down to Nathaniel's mind, and then decided against it. Nathaniel needed to be alone with his thoughts at this moment. Desmond could remain calm because Mariah was safe, and he could call her this very moment if he wanted. He couldn't imagine the hell that Nathaniel was going through, but he knew that his Tiro was strong. He had made him strong, and now was his time to prove it.
Chapter 15
“Desmond! Desmond!”
Desmond sat up with a start, the pounding on his door coming into focus. He recognized Nathaniel's voice at once and leapt out of bed before his mind even fully processed what was happening. He pulled open the door to find Nathaniel looking frantic.
“The palace just contacted me. There's a cousin of Eliza's on one of the rebel planets, living a quiet life, or so they claim. We need to go, and we need to go now.”
“On the rebel planet?” Desmond tried to get his bearings. “We'll never make it there with our ship. We'll have to get another.”
“We can get one not far from here,” Nathaniel said. “We have to go, though, before he gets word that we are looking for him.”
“What time is it?” Desmond asked.
“Almost four a.m. The sun will be up in an hour or two. Come on.”
“Get Sienna,” Desmond said, taking stock of the situation. “Make sure she has everything she needs. I will pack our stuff and notify the Jurors as to our movements.”
“Right,” Nathaniel turned and promptly slipped.
Desmond grabbed him before his face hit the floor, but it was a shock for both of them. Nathaniel was always light on his feet and was used to moving swiftly through dark hallways. That was basic warrior training.
“Ow,” Nathaniel managed as he righted himself. “Thanks.”
He went to bang on Sienna's door, while Desmond took a second look at him.
“Are you all right?”
“I'm fine,” Nathaniel said.
“Then don't move so fast. It doesn't do us any good,” Desmond said. “Be cautious, Nathaniel, or everything could be ruined.”
“Can we just go?” Nathaniel begged, and Desmond headed back into his room. He hadn't had a chance to unpack at all, so it was easy to pick up his rucksack and grab his com-link. His stomach growled, ready for breakfast, but there was no time. He resigned himself to being hungry as they made their way to the ship.
Sienna was quiet, sleep still in her eyes, and she curled up against Desmond in the back. He put a hand on her small back, counting her breaths as Nathaniel gunned the engine. Everything was moving so fast that Desmond only had time to ensure she was fine before Nathaniel gunned the engine.
They all flew back, and Sienna snapped awake as she screeched.
Nathaniel shifted gears rapidly, pushing them forward. “Sorry,” he muttered, and Desmond repeated his warning.
“Slow down,” he said, as Nathaniel passed the speed limit, his eyes straight ahead.
“There is no time to slow down,” Nathaniel repeated, his tone harsh. “They will kill her to get to the throne. They will torture her; they swill…”
It was the speech that alerted Desmond. His head snapped forward as he heard the slur in his former Tiro's words.
“Nathaniel,” he said with a growl in his voice. “Are you drunk?”
“I'm fine,” Nathaniel answered, but Desmond was not taking his
words at face value. He reached into Nathaniel's mind with the type of magic he reserved for intense interrogations and desperate strategy. He pushed so hard that Nathaniel actually howled in pain. Overpowering him, Desmond took over the controls and ground the ship to a halt. It was an exhausting process, and Desmond felt drained. That didn't used to happen, a part of his brain noted. Once, he could handle such effort all the time. Now, fighting his own Tiro whose mind he knew inside and out was a struggle.
His energy was refueled by anger as he pushed open the door of the ship. Before Nathaniel could even react, Desmond had hauled him out of the driver's seat, and practically threw him to the ground.
Sienna squeaked, but he put a hand out to her. This was one of the harshest lessons a Tiro would have to learn, and he touched her so that she understood every moment. Her little hand rested in his as he glared at Nathaniel.
“Do you know what kind of danger you could have put us in?” Desmond asked. “You could have killed all three of us, never mind the other people in the air. This is reckless and unacceptable, Nathaniel. To put your Maestro at risk is one thing. That is almost your job. To harm a colleague, another witch, is unforgivable. To recklessly put your Tiro in harm's way – the one you swore to protect and guard – that is a whole other circle of hell.”
“The one you swore I would protect,” Nathaniel practically screamed at him. “And she may get Eliza killed if we keep having to cater to her.”
“No!” Desmond dropped Sienna's hand, grabbing Nathaniel by the shoulders. “You will not speak that way ever again! Do you hear me? It is time to grow up, Nathaniel. It is time to realize that your love for Eliza must come last in this world. Don't you think I knew what this could be like? How it could tear at your heart? You are a witch; you have chosen a life for yourself. So, unless you are choosing differently and walking away now, you will serve the magic first, your Tiro second, and the universe third. And if Eliza is in there, fine. But she is not your priority. Is that much clear?”
“Desmond, you don't even know…” Nathaniel started, and Desmond saw tears in his eyes. He quickly checked to make sure that he wasn't hurting him, but the only pain his former Tiro held was emotional.
The Vampire Touch 1: The Forsaken Page 22