I note Sonia’s eyes fixed on the being in front of me. “It really is quite sad. Don’t you have better things to do? We know you have no real power. You can’t kill me.”
The blond being steps around me to stand before Sonia. “No, but I can incapacitate you so that one of these vampires can finish you. I doubt—”
With a blast of wind, Sonia vanishes.
“That’s what I thought.” The being lowers himself to the wood slats beside me. “How can I help? Should I prepare a burial pyre?”
Looking to John’s face, tears swell in my eyes. I swipe them away, rubbing my bloody palms on the skirt of my dress. Hearing rustling branches, I focus on the trees beyond the yard. Within seconds, I see the others emerge from the forest.
I rush to Will. “Is everyone else okay?” My eyes cut to each in our group, landing on Orm clutching Jacob’s back.
“Yes.” Will strides past me. “We lost the witch though. Blasted.” He stomps towards the house and falls to his knees in front of John. “Sonia and the other witch came out of nowhere, took John before we could even blink.” He looks up to the blond being. “Thank you. We’re forever in your debt.”
The being shakes his head. “No thanks are necessary.” His eyes cut to me and then around the rest of the group. “Let me help you prepare the pyre.”
There’s no moving fast for this job. The point is to raise the stand, log by log, to mourn. Even when it’s finished an hour later, we’re not ready to say goodbye.
“Let’s leave him until the morn. Come inside and have some drink.” I hook my arm through Gregor’s, knowing he was closest to John.
Inside, I line up glasses, and pour strong spirits into each of them. Each person takes one, and I offer one to our guest.
“Thank you.” He takes a sip and closes his eyes as if relishing each drop of the liquid. “Might I have a moment of your time, Miss Scott?” He holds his glass up, motioning to the stairs.
My mind spins, wondering what this odd stranger has to tell me, why he would need to say it in private, and wishing I didn’t feel drawn to him. Will he be able to sense my attraction? It feels rude, even greedy, to want answers to all the questions that occupy my brain. I grasp my glass with both palms and look to Will. “I’m not sure.”
Will’s gaze cuts to Orm. Orm straightens his back and approaches the being. At a head taller, the being seems a giant compared to Orm. Yet, Orm extends his arm. “May I?”
A smile spreads across the being’s face. “You may.”
They lock arms, and Orm closes his eyes. Mine dart around, taking in the stranger’s sea-blue irises, golden eyelashes, high cheeks, rose-pink lips, square chin, broad shoulders, and finally the white wings folded against his back.
Orm sucks in a breath, and his eyes pop open. As he stumbles back, the being catches Orm’s elbows and holds his gaze. “And now you know.”
“So be it.” Orm looks to me and then the rest of the group. “He’s not a threat to anyone here.”
“My lady.” The being lifts his arm, motioning for me to proceed ahead of him.
As I ascend the stairs, a flapping noise catches my attention, and I look behind me to see his wings disappear into his back. I lead him to a room we’ve used for a parlor. Lighting a candle, I wait for him to enter.
“Would you like a shirt? I could get one of Will’s.”
His eyes narrow as if he’s deciding. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
In the next room, I pull a shirt from Will’s bag, glad we washed the prior day. I return to the sitting room and offer the being the garment. As he slides it over his head, I divert my eyes, stoking the logs to heat water in the iron pot above.
“Would you like some tea?”
A smile forms on his face.
I place my hands on my hips. “You’re amused with me?”
“You’re so proper.” He slides the chair from under the table. “Will you sit and talk with me?”
I take the seat he offers, fold my hands in my lap, and look to him as he sits across from me. Picking up the plate of sage herbs in the center of the table, he stares at them a second and they ignite.
“Is there a need for privacy?”
His lips rise on one side, forming a half smile. “You don’t favor secrets?”
“No, not with my people.”
“Forgive me.” He stretches his hand across the table, turning his palm up. “But a being like myself has need of such things.”
Even though I know better than to let a witch touch me, I can’t resist the opportunity for even a second of connection to him. I lay my fingers atop his, and a warming sensation spreads through my hand, up my arm, and to my chest. My eyes meet his. “What’s that? Who are you?”
He smiles as his fingers wrap around mine. “I have many names, but I would prefer you call me Lucas.”
Praying to Mother Earth that one of his names is not Lucifer, I dare another question. “Sonia called you a seraph. What is that exactly? You change forms. Are you a shape-shifter or a witch?”
His lips form a smile. “Of sorts.” My hand grows hot, and I wiggle my fingers in his. He releases them and reclines in his chair. “Please, ask whatever you like.”
With my mind filled with hundreds of questions, I’m unsure which to start with. “You wanted to speak with me. What do you want to tell me?”
“I’m glad you have Orm. He’ll protect you.”
“You saw that he’s trustworthy?”
“You already knew that. You read people well.”
“And you offered me your hand, so I would believe I could trust you?”
He chuckles, and his blue eyes dance in the firelight. “I have saved you from Sonia twice, and you’re still not sure you can trust me?”
“I don’t know who or what you are. Why you would help us? You can’t kill, is that true?”
“It is. But I may render anyone powerless.”
“That’s a wonderful strength to have.”
“He giveth, and He taketh away.”
My eyebrows shoot up before I can check my reaction. “A quote from the human Bible.”
“Yes, you’ve studied it.”
“That was not a question.”
He leans forward so our faces are barely a foot apart. My heart skips and races in my chest. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my reaction, but his scent further intoxicates me. He lays his palms atop the wood. “I don’t mean to mince words. All cannot be revealed. I would think that you have some guesses as to my nature.”
“What did you want to discuss?” I slide back in my chair and straighten my back, putting as much distance between us as possible.
Opening his mouth slightly, he closes it again. “I wish to offer my condolences for your loss tonight. I know John was important to you.”
As he speaks, I listen for his heart rate, time his breathing, and gauge his body temperature. All appear human-like. If I hadn’t seen him descend from the sky and wings retract into his spine, I would’ve guessed he was a witch. My eyes meet his.
“You have gained much since I last saw you. Connections with the American tribes, strides in living among humans in the modern age, agreements to make peace with the witches, support among the covens for a treaty . . . you should be heralded.”
“Thank you. But we have also lost much.”
“There’s always sacrifice in a revolution.”
“You see me as a revolutionary?”
“You don’t? The mission is to replace the old ways with the new. Is there any other definition of revolution?” He smiles, and his eyes seem to brighten.
My lips turn up despite my somber mood. It’s as if his emotions infect the room. “I guess not.” I look to my shoes to avoid his penetrating stare. "What of you? Where have you been? What have you done?”
“I counsel.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“Counsel? Counsel who?”
“Those that ask.” He straightens up in his chair.
“Who asks?”
�
��Humans mostly.”
“But you would counsel any being who asked?”
“I suppose.”
“So, what counsel would I need?”
A thin smile forms on his lips. “None, of course.”
“You flatter me.”
“That which is truth is not flattery. I would expect you’ll achieve all you desire.”
“Can you see that?’
His eyes focus beyond my face for a second. “No, no being can know what lies ahead. There are a million different options for the course of fate at any given second.”
The room grows humid, and I realize I’ve forgotten the water for tea. I jump from my seat and grab the handle before thinking. The metal singes my hand, and I release the pot.
Lucas dashes from his chair and dips a towel in the washing bowl. He crosses to me. “Here, let me.”
I release my fist to him, and he takes my hand in one palm and dabs the cool cloth on my skin with the other. I study his perfect features wondering how a being could be so beautiful.
My face warms, and I jerk my hand away. “It’s better. Thank you.”
“Perhaps some aloe will help sooth it.”
“No.” I laugh and open my palm to show him the new pink skin that has replaced the singed spot. “See, it’s fine.”
“Oh.” He stands up straight. “I guess I’m not used to beings like you.”
“Who do you spend your time with?”
He paces away. “Perhaps some wine is more appropriate than the tea.”
I cross to the buffet and pour two glasses. Placing them on the table, I take my seat.
Lucas lowers himself into the chair beside me. “I have brothers and sisters.”
“How is that? Do you like them?”
He throws his head back and chuckles. “Sometimes. I guess we’re much like your friends.”
“But, I’ve chosen my friends.”
“Have you? Or have they chosen you?”
“I wouldn’t accept someone I did not trust.”
“What of Emmett?”
I sip my wine to cover my surprise at his question. “So, you see all?” I place my glass on the table.
He copies my action. “I see what I would like.”
“And what do you know?”
“I know what I see.”
“Nothing more?” I hold his stare.
“I’m not like Orm. I can’t see your thoughts unless you allow me to.”
“How does one do that?”
“In this form, I would need a physical connection and permission about a specific topic.”
The clock over the mantle chimes, and Lucas jumps from his seat, toppling the chair to the ground.
The clock rings again, indicating the second stroke of midnight.
“I must go.” Lucas pulls the shirt over his head and holds it out to me. “I’m sorry for your friend. I hope your grief isn’t too heavy a burden.”
Another chime sounds. I take the shirt and lower it to the tabletop. “Thank you.” I look up into his face.
His eyes dart between me and the clock as it emits the fourth ring. “I have enjoyed our time together. Thank you for your hospitality. Blessed be.” He clasps my hands, leans in, plants a kiss on my cheek, and brushes past me to the window, throwing open the shutter and jumping into the air.
I run to the sill, peering into the darkness, searching for him, but find nothing but black. Shivering in the cool air, I pull the shutters closed. My cheek tingles where his lips touched the skin. My pulse races, and my stomach feels as if it were full of butterflies. With my next breath, I rebuke my school-girl-like emotions the kiss stirred.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, I take another lung full of air to clear my head. Will is the first in followed by Jacob then Elizabeth.
“What happened? Where is he?” Will demands.
The air feels chillier, and the sadness over John’s death rolls over me anew. I slide the shirt he’d worn from the table and hold it behind my back. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? How can you not know?” Jacob circles me. “Who is he? What did he want? Is he going to help us or not?”
“His name is Lucas.”
“Lucas. He has a name. That’s a start. What did he say?” Will looms over me.
I shake my head, fighting tears. My brains spins with confusion as I realize my sadness is in part due to Lucas’s absence. “Nothing we didn’t already know.”
Elizabeth slides between me and Will and grips my shoulders. “Why did he want to talk to you?”
“I have no clue. We need to mourn our friend.” I meet each one of their eyes.
“You’re no better than Orm,” Will shakes his head and stomps from the room.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Orm seems to know something but can’t tell us. Or won’t.” Jacob follows Will out.
Downstairs in the main room, we clear our minds and focus on John. Joining hands, we walk outside, and forming a circle around the burial pyre, set it ablaze.
My sadness over the loss of John hangs heavy like the fog surrounding our ship day in and day out. With winter storms, the journey across the Atlantic drags on for three months. By the time the boat lands in Virginia, we’re almost starved for blood.
“I thought I was going to die on that putrid ship,” Elizabeth announces as we make our way through the harbor town.
“We’ll be in the wood soon, with the whole American continent in front of us.”
“I have to get away from these people. Each one of them smells of dinner.” Will trudges ahead of me.
We trek over a mountain range and across a wide river to the plains. My tribe has established an outpost there, and we feel at home for the first time in over a year. We greet our friends with heavy hearts, having to share the news of John’s loss. Relaying the story, my mind skips to thoughts of Lucas, and I look to the night sky, wondering where he is.
“You won’t see him for at least another hundred years,” Orm whispers to me.
I lean away from him. “You’re not wearing a crystal. Were you touching me?”
Orm pats his chest. “Forgive me. My arm brushed yours. It was an accident. I believe that they finally trust me after I saved Will’s life.”
“You saved Will’s life?”
“Lucas’s arrival was well timed. Sonia’s friend was a powerful witch, and I couldn’t have held him off much longer, but yes, I prevented him from causing other deaths.”
I start to reach out and touch his arm but think better of it. “How do you know that he won’t appear before a hundred years?”
“I saw it when he gripped my arm.”
“What other form does he take? You know what he is? Who he is?”
“I believe you all do but are afraid to admit it. If you do, that means what Sonia says is true, that you are soulless creatures.”
“What the witches believe is of little consequence to me. I’m at peace with the fact that we’re born of Mother Earth and return to her. She gives us eight hundred plus years by nature, who are we to want more?”
“Yes, you’re at peace with that. What of those who can’t be?”
“Most of our kind are raised in tribes, nurtured by families, taught to love Mother Earth.”
“But what of the wild ones? You have yet to reach any of their tribes. They don’t follow the rules set by the tribunals.”
“Even in human populations, there are those who stray from the boundaries set for acceptable behavior. Others will bring them judgment when needed. I can’t control everything.” Tired of the conversation, and frustrated with Orm’s assessment, I make my way to the edge of camp.
From the plains, we proceed west, taking a northern route to avoid a hot desert, over snow-capped rocky peaks that remind me of western Europe. Finally, we make it to the sea and hike south to our tribe’s lands. During the rest of 1700, our tribe builds a compound. It sits high on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Even with the hot southern sun, th
e water cools the air, making it a perfect climate. Only when it is finished do I start to reach out again, to old and new friends.
We watch in horror as the world plunges into war and environmental turmoil, first with the War of Spanish Succession, then the French and Indian War, The United States Revolutionary War against Britain, eruption of Laki in Iceland, and finally the French Revolution.
Still, our focus is on the vampire race. Some living among the humans have stakes in these battles and decide to join in, but our tribe does not. Settlers from the south claim California for Spain, and we blend into their society.
Seventeen ninety-nine finds us preparing for our first world tribunal. In the spring, we make our way east, and by June we land in Iceland. Northern and Southern American representatives travel with us to meet ambassadors from Russia, China, India, Africa, and Europe.
Throughout the talks and festivities, my mind wanders to thoughts of Lucas. Mystery surrounds him, and I can’t help but be curious. Is he only allowed one day in a hundred years? Or does he only get to help when we’re in jeopardy? The memory of his warming touch passes through me, and I shiver.
There’s much talk of Arnold Paole of Austria, who confessed to be a vampire, although human. We believe him to have known of a vampire and gone mad from the inability to share his information. Yet, no vampire confesses.
“Could a half-vampire, half-witch being have convinced the human Arnold to kill for him?” a female from China wonders.
“Perhaps he was in love with a vampire and wanted to be made vampire so bad he went mad.”
Vampire hysteria and fear of witchcraft spread through the region until 1776 when Hungarian Empress Maria Theresa passes a law forbidding persecution for magical activity.
“The whole of Hungary has been overrun with witches since then,” the Hungarian representative complains. “Witches have infiltrated human society for decades. We could learn from them.”
“But then we’d have to sit in a room and make polite conversation and would probably go mad from wanting to drink their blood,” the representative adds, and laughter breaks out in the room.
The representatives stress and uphold edicts to keep our race secret, procreate within our species, and keep peace with each other, the humans, and other beings, witches included.
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