Fire Storm

by Ally Shields

  She didn’t have to tell them twice. Russell and Lilith shoved them in the limo while Samuel jumped behind the wheel and sped away before the doors were fully closed. Andreas held his head with both hands, fighting the pressure and using his own powers to repel the attack; Ari climbed into his lap, cradling his head, kept her aura intact. Still the pressure and the bleeding increased.

  Their friends hustled them on board the jet, and they were in the air within minutes. Pushing the little aircraft for all it was worth, they streaked across Italian airspace headed south toward Africa in an attempt to increase the distance from Germany as quickly as possible. They would eventually swing to the west and try to put an ocean between them.

  Andreas slumped against her, bleeding freely now: his eyes, his nose, his ears, even the corners of his mouth. Ari’s blouse was soaked, but she hardly noticed. She held him, chanting every protection spell she knew and boosting her own aura to cover him. And yet the bastards were winning. Was there no limit to their powers?

  “What can we do?” Russell asked desperately.

  “I don’t know.” Ari fought back helpless tears. After all they’d been through, Andreas was on the verge of dying in her arms. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to calm down and think. Think, dammit.

  “Ice,” she said suddenly. “We need to cool him, and start an IV of blood.”

  Andreas stirred, “Yes.”

  She hoped that meant he approved of her idea. They moved him to the kitchenette area, where he lay on the floor with his head in Ari’s lap, and they wrapped him in cold, wet cloths. They packed all the ice onboard around him, and Samuel started an IV.

  Ari’s mood roller-coastered from angry curses against the O-Seven to terrified despair and pleas to her Goddess to spare him. She longed for a corporeal enemy that she could beat into submission. Instead, she used every ounce of magic she had and tried every spell, whether fire, earth, water or air magic. She’d surrounded the plane in a protective bubble and still the O-Seven had broken through. All she could do now was hug his still form to her and hope some of it would work in his favor. Russell, Lilith, and Samuel sat nearby, seldom talking, mostly just waiting.

  After the worst hour she’d ever been through, the magical pressure finally lessened. Not enough, but noticeable. Were the elders running out of juice? Had the plane gotten far enough away that the distance itself was draining their power?

  Andreas hadn’t moved for the last quarter hour, and blood seemed to be coming out of him as fast as it was going in. Sheets and towels stuffed around them were stained red or pink and soaked with melted ice. The air reeked with the metallic smell of the life-giving substance that was never intended to be outside the body. But his hand still held hers, even if his grip was weak.

  Another twenty minutes. Ari’s sagging spirits rose as the intense pressure began to drop at a rapid pace. The bleeding slowed. Andreas stirred, and his hand tightened on hers.

  The pressure suddenly lifted. His chest rose and lowered with a deep sigh.

  “Andreas?” she whispered.

  He inhaled a second deep breath, and his eyes snapped open, dark and intelligent. He turned his head and smiled at her. He looked wonderful.

  “Wow, man. Glad to see you’re back.” Russell hooted, punching Lilith in the arm in his relief.

  “About time.” Lilith leaned over and started stuffing the bloody sheets and towels in a plastic bag, but Ari saw the mist in her eyes.

  Andreas slowly pushed up on one elbow and pulled the IV out of his arm. Lilith threw him a clean towel. He mopped the blood from his face and glanced at Ari. “You have not said anything.”

  She just sat there. Her mind refused to believe it was over, that he’d survived. The tears she’d held back started to trickle down her face.

  “Ah, cara mia. Do not cry.” Dropping the towel and ignoring the mess, he put his arms around her, brushing her tears away with his lips. “You know how I hate to see you cry.”

  * * *

  By the time they were on final approach to Riverdale a few hours later at 5:00 p.m. local time, it was difficult to believe Andreas had come so close to death. A quick shower in the small lavatory, a change of clothes, and he appeared to be his former self.

  Ari sat in one of the leather swivel chairs, still mentally hugging herself and reliving those horrifying minutes and hours. How could they avoid a repeat in the future? She had known the O-Seven was powerful, but nothing had prepared her for that kind of a sustained long distance attack. What if they could reach all the way to Riverdale? Would Andreas ever be safe?

  She looked out the window at the Midwestern landscape below. Almost home, and there were things he still didn’t know. She turned to him. “I can’t put this off any longer. I haven’t told you everything that happened. It’s about Brando.”

  Andreas reached over and took her hand. “I know, cara mia. Remember the dreams, the images? I saw enough to know. I am sorry. He was a good friend.”

  She blinked back the tears and nodded. “He was.” She turned back to the window. The plane rocked gently as the wheels touched down. Home.

  Andreas rose and pulled her to her feet. “Try not to worry. We are back on American soil, far from the elders, and I can hardly wait to reach our home. Once we catch our breath, I will call Daron and invite Gabriel over to plan for our on-going defense. But for just a short time, I would like to be alone with you and share my mother’s letter.”

  The airplane cabin door opened, and they stepped onto the portable stairs. Their evening plans changed with one glimpse at the crowd of friends waiting for them to descend. At the front stood Gabriel, Steffan, Ryan, and Claris.

  “Claris.” Ari flashed a quick look at Andreas.

  “Go,” he said, smiling. “What are you waiting for?”

  She bounded down the stairs and flung herself into her friend’s arms. They burst into tears, words unnecessary, as they grieved and rejoiced together.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Don’t you ever get tired?” Ari asked as they entered Andreas’s Victorian home more than six hours later. “You weren’t looking so good earlier, but now…”

  “Would you rather I would moan and groan a little?” He wrapped a possessive arm around her waist, and they started up the broad staircase. “Does this mean you’re ready for bed?”

  “If you mean sleep, no, but I’m glad we’re finally home.”

  His mouth quirked at the distinction she’d made. “It was good to see friends again and to learn the club has done so well in my absence. I was surprised to see Claris, but I thought she was doing well.” Reaching the top of the stairs, he turned to face her. “I am sorry you had to leave her at such a time.”

  Ari sighed and leaned against him. “Coming home brought it all back. I’d put his death at the back of my mind for days, but now it seems like yesterday. Claris is strong, but I know Ryan and Steffan were a big help. They’re terrific guys.”

  “I wish I could do something for her, for everyone who suffered losses that day. I feel responsible.”

  She jerked her head up to look at him. “That’s ridiculous. The damned warlocks are responsible. Claris doesn’t blame you, would never blame you. In fact, she insisted I leave for Europe to find you before they held Brando’s memorial service, because she…” Ari stopped and took a breath to keep her voice steady, before repeating Claris’s words. “Because she didn’t want us to lose you both.”

  Andreas tightened his hold. “I do not know what to say, cara mia. To have such loyalty from your friends.”

  “Our friends.” She leaned into his embrace, enjoying the quiet moment. “We’re both fortunate in our friends. Daron was ready to give up Toronto to save your life. I wish I could have seen his face when you called tonight. I think he might have hugged you, if we’d been there.”

  “Heaven forbid.” Andreas sounded amused. “Such indignity between princes is unthinkable.”

  She smiled against his shoulder until she remembered the rest
of the conversation. “I hope he’s right in believing the elders’ powers are limited, that we can defend against a sustained psychic attack as long as we stay on this continent. I was afraid we’d never have a safe moment. Still, I’m going to change the mansion’s protection spells tomorrow. At least we’ll have some warning if they try any long-distance mental stuff.”

  “Speaking of spells.” He spoke as if he’d been waiting for the appropriate segue. “Do you still feel like reading my mother’s letter, and the Book of Shadows?”

  “I’d love to.” Sudden eagerness filled her voice. Enough of this sadness. “Unless it’s too much for tonight.” Would talking about his mother be just as sad for him? Some losses were painful forever.

  “You mean the memories? Her death was hard for me, but the rest are good. I do not mind revisiting them. I will get the book and letter.” He tilted his head and smiled at her. “My bedroom or yours?”

  “Mine. I’ve missed seeing the cats.”

  “I should have known.” He strode down the hallway to the left, and she turned right.

  Bella and Dona met her at the bedroom door, twining around her legs with their motors revved on high, accusing her with their large green eyes.

  “Did you think I was never coming home?” She scooped them up, a cat settled on each shoulder. Named after one of her magical but more dangerous spell ingredients, the mother and daughter felines were treated like family members by the entire household. Bella had been an adopted stray; Dona was the result of an unauthorized liaison between Bella and Claris’s white Siamese, Hernando. The cats were a fixture in Ari’s life, and maybe a replacement for the children she could never have with a vampire lover.

  She hugged and petted them, laughing when they butted her hand if one perceived she was giving unequal time. “Play nice now,” she admonished. “Did you miss me?”

  “Not half as much as I did.” His voice sent pleasurable curls around her, and she turned to see Andreas leaning against her doorframe. He looked so good, his shirttail untucked, half the buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up. If she’d lost him…

  She jumped up to grab his hand, dumping the cats unceremoniously on the bed. Dona instantly pounced on her parent, and the two cats raced into the attached sitting room, vying for the highest perch on the cat tree.

  “I’m so glad we’re home.” She smiled into his eyes and tugged him toward the loveseat. “We’ve been in tight spots before, but I’ve never been so scared for you.”

  He placed a finger against her lips, the gentle touch sending a shiver down her back. “Hush, Arianna, I am right here. I will always be here.” He kissed her then, long and tenderly, finally breaking the embrace. “I think it is time you met my mother.”

  They plopped on the loveseat. Andreas thumbed through the Book of Shadows handed down by his mother’s Valvano family, while Ari unfolded his mother’s letter.

  Heart of my heart,

  I have learned many things today from your Great-papa Fredrico and know I must write this letter. I will leave it with a trusted companion to be placed in our secret hideaway after I am gone. My dear Andreas, I cannot imagine the sorrows you face in the coming years, which will leave the responsibility for our family in your hands. Be strong. I must also reveal the history of my family. Fredrico says someday you will need to know about your witch ancestry. I have remained quiet before this because I have watched you and Luis since you were born and seen no sign of the gift. Nevertheless, Fredrico says it is time I told you, so I will trust his judgment.

  The Valvano witches are a male-dominate bloodline. Although each of us carries a dormant ability, it rarely surfaces, and only in the men. Fredrico is the last. Unless one of your children or children’s children manifests as a warlock, the line dies here. I intended to sit down and talk about this when you and Luis were older, but I have run out of time.

  Talk with Fredrico. If a child of yours has the gift, he will also need the family heirlooms. Be safe, my son. Grow strong. You are the gift I leave the world.

  It was signed, “Your loving mother, Marie Valvano.”

  Ari ran her fingers over the page. “I wish I had met her in person.”

  He reached out to caress her cheek, smiling when her eyes raised to his. “I think she would have liked you.”

  Ari snorted. “Yeah, a proper aristocratic lady? We have so much in common.”

  “More than you think.”

  “Did she kill people too?”

  “No, but she was strong, independent.” His eyes danced. “And of course, you both love me.”

  Ari’s voice softened. “Yes, we do share that.” She snuggled closer to his side. “Anything of interest in your little book?”

  He laughed, shaking his head at her. “I have in my hands a grimoire of magic that has been passed down through my family for centuries. Are you seriously asking me if there is anything of interest?”

  “Don’t be coy. Open it up and let me see.”

  For the next hour they perused the four sections of his book: family history, which contained a listing of family names, including his and Luis’s at the bottom; family spells; tried and true potions; and important events, which ranged from sightings of rare demonic creatures to recovered amulets to an ancestor’s position as an advisor to Italian royalty.

  “I can’t believe you’re from a witch bloodline,” she said, when they finally closed the book. “No wonder our magical bond is so strong. But it’s kind of weird that we’re learning so much of our history through our mother’s letters. My mother’s letter is where I learned that the Ramora bond, tying soulmates together, was strongest when both partners were witchborn. It explains a lot.”

  “But my abilities never manifested.”

  “But they were inside you. And they survived your transformation to a vampire. Sophie recognized them. I guess I didn’t because I was too caught up in other feelings about you.” She frowned. “If Sophie recognized them, maybe they’re no longer dormant.” She sat up. “Could they have manifested with the transformation? You’re unusually powerful for a vampire of only two hundred years. You’re resistant to the sun, to silver, to holy objects. You’ve never explained any of that.”

  He raised his brows. “Because I could not explain them. They just were.”

  “Exactly.” She scooted around to look him in the face. “We need to find out if you can do real magic. Witchcraft. See if you can find and activate an inner witch source. We have a lot of work to do.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Well, say something.”

  Andreas leaned back in the loveseat, his dark eyes hooded. “I do not know what to say. I admit to being speechless, and I am not yet certain how I feel about…,” he spread his hands, “all of this.”

  “It’ll be fine. You’ll get used to it.” Ari picked up the letter again. “What are the family heirlooms your mother mentioned?”

  “I have no idea. Unfortunately, Fredrico, who was in reality my great-great-grandfather, died in 1813. He was 105, an unheard of age during those times. Now I suspect it was the magic that kept him alive so long.” Andreas tapped his fingers on his knee. “So my eccentric Great-papa was a warlock. They must have encouraged the stories of his mental instability in order to protect him from the witch hunters.”

  “I suppose. I’m rather glad I wasn’t around then.” She shivered, imagining the horror of being tied to a stake and set on fire. “So how do we find the heirlooms?”

  He shrugged. “I can have the estates searched, but it will not be easy when we cannot describe what we want them to find. Perhaps the heirlooms were sold or buried with the old gentleman.”

  “Can we dig him up?”

  The corners of Andreas’s mouth began to twitch. “I would rather not,” he said dryly. “As my Great-papa, he is due a certain amount of respect.”

  “Yeah, well, he also had a duty to pass anything magical to the next generation. It’s expected. Where were you when he died? Did he say anything to you?”

  “I was
at home in Italy. My brother Luis died two years before, and I was still struggling to learn my duties as a landowner. I did not see much of Fredrico, but he died at his home on our property and is buried in the family cemetery.”

  “That’s good to know. Just in case.”

  He chuckled softly. “I believe you are looking forward to the possibility.” He caught a blonde curl and gave a gentle tug. “I have not seen this ghoulish side of you before.”

  “Oh, stop teasing. I’m just saying. But you know,” she sat up to look at him again, “since Zylla knew your history was important, maybe she can tell us about the heirlooms. We should go see her.”

  “A reasonable plan, but not tonight.” He bent and planted a kiss on her throat, moving on to leave a tingling path across her chin, up to her nose, her eyelids, and finally dropping to capture her mouth.

  She sighed and slid around until she was straddling his lap.

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Ari presented herself at the office of the president of the magic council.

  “Well, Arianna, I had heard you were home.” The wizard gestured toward an empty chair. “You have not called.”

  “No, sir, I don’t work for you.”

  “Very true. So, what can I do for you?”

  “I heard you have a vacancy.”

  He peered over his glasses. “Word travels fast.” When she didn’t comment, he sighed and leaned back. “It is true Bodie left this morning. It appears he never intended to stay, that he values his retirement too much. I believe Moriana played a fast one on us when she recommended him.”

  “I didn’t ask her to. If that’s what happened, it was without my knowledge.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I’m sure that is true. Moriana is a law unto herself.” He regarded Ari with solemn eyes. “Riverdale needs a Guardian like you, Arianna. In fact, it needs you. If you hadn’t driven the warlock and the German vampires out of Riverdale, our entire community would have been in danger. However, you do us little good if you are gallivanting over the world.” He steepled his fingers and sighed again. “Bodie left you a message. He said if you got in a bind again, you should call him to provide temporary coverage before you got fired.”