by J. J. McAvoy
“Hello? Do you live or work here?” I questioned when my feet touched the ground.
“Work,” she stated, her frown so deep that her face looked like it was going to slide of her skin. She…smelled human. “Are the masters aware of your presence? How did you enter here?”
“I have no idea. Do you want to dance with me?” I switched the song to Madonna.
Her eyes widened as I began to toss my head from side to side with my hair all over the place. “Are you insane?”
“No more than the usual. Do you know where they keep their fine art?” I questioned, two-stepping to her.
She just stared and shook her head.
“I see.” I frowned. “Oh well, maybe later then.”
I hopped onto couch, stretched out, and looked back at her, wiggling my feet. “Do you think your bosses would be upset if I took a shower somewhere?”
“I don’t think the Lady would be pleased—”
“No, I would not be.” A woman appeared directly behind me, making the music stop. She was dressed in a cream-colored silk top and knee length skirt. Her grey eyes and dark hair were very familiar. Her hair was long but in loose curls secured in ancient-Greek fashion with braids in the back. Her eyes glanced down the length of me spread out on her couch. “How rude of you, Ms. Monroe.”
I smiled, sitting up. “I only return what I am given Ms.…or is it lady or mistress or your highness? I’m not sure of the proper terminology as you hid everyone that could make introductions, so I’ll just go with Rhea.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I rose to my feet extending my hand. “Hello, Rhea, I’m Druella.”
She did not take it.
“This part of the house is reserved for those who have been invited.”
“Ah,” I looked around again, and it was just me and her. “Well, when your son reappears, I’m sure he’ll clear up the misunderstanding.”
“Why is it that that my son is your greatest fear instead of love?” she questioned, walking away from me and toward the couch on the opposite end.
“Excuse me?”
She lifted her hand and a glass of blood was already being poured by the old woman, the sweet scent filling my nose.
“Thank you, Martha. You may leave,” she said to the woman who just nodded and held a cloth to her wrist before turning and exiting the way she came. “Well?” she pressed, taking a seat at my side.
I did my best to retain my confidence and stick to the plan. “I can’t answer your question because I don’t understand it.”
She didn’t respond, instead taking sip of her fresh blood, licking her pink lips slowly. The hunger in me started to rise, but I pushed it back down.
“Did my son not tell you that it was I who sent him on the search to find his great love? Unfortunately, that is you. I can see it. However, I cannot see the same in you. How is it you have no great love, and yet have a great lover waiting?”
Her words confused me more not less. I shrugged, trying to joke it off. “My heart is dead.”
She was not amused. Her grip on her glass tightened. “I see no love from you. Yet, I can still see your fear, and my son is your fear. That displeases me.”
So, she could see love and fear? Not love and hate?
“After all these years, you haven’t figured out how to live with things that displease you?”
“No, I kill those things,” she stated, and with eerie coldness, her head tilted to the side.
“I d—”
“I have never made a mistake of someone’s love or fear. I see them both clearly, and yet with you— You are nothing but fear.”
“I don’t know.” My voice became softer, and I hated that I felt like I was losing this battle with her. Get it together, Druella. “But as I have told your son, and every other old hard-headed vampire I have come across, I am the maker of my own destiny. Whatever you see, think, or say is not me. I define me.”
“Such words remind me of so many mortals before they die. Stubbornness is a folly for sure.”
“So are most mothers-in-law,” I shot back. “I was hoping to come here and meet Theseus’s family, see him relax among them, figure out what is happening to us. I didn’t know what to expect, but since he all but described himself as the problem child, I assumed you all would be welcoming. I’m really disappointed instead to have an issue with you.”
“You are disappointed?” she snapped, her grip on the glass tightening to the point that it started to crack. “Theseus is my child. He has gone through hell many times over, and he has survived. All I’ve ever wanted for him is peace and joy and to be loved as he deserves. So, when I saw you all those years ago, I finally believed his time had come. Only to meet you and see even you, too, are incapable of caring for him.”
“Please do not guess my emotions.” I did care about Theseus; I just wasn’t sure if I loved him. I just met him.
“Emotions? Do you have any? Why is my son is doomed to meet such selfish women? I can see it, too. You will bring nothing but pain to him—”
“You have no right!” I hollered, feeling the ground shake under my feet. I wanted to get away from her, but she ended up flying backward instead.
“Mother!”
“Rhea.”
Before her body had even landed on the other side, Ulrik, Melora, and three other vampires I didn’t recognize were at her side. Feeling someone close to me, I turned to see Theseus at mine.
His eyes filled with concern. “Druella, it’s alright.”
“I did not come here to be bullied!” I yelled at him. “Since you have come into my life, I have lost my job and my home. I’ve been dragged from city to city, talked down to, and made fun of, but I let it all go! I didn’t blame you! Now your mother is blaming me because I didn’t jump you at first sight! Screw that! I was better off alone!”
I ran toward the doors, pushing them open to go back to the front with the statues.
He called out, “Druella wait!”
I almost made it to the door when I felt his wrist on mine. “Let go!” I spun, trying to get away, but my hand hit his cheek, slapping him as hard as I could. But this time, it was different. Everything was different, my clothes, his clothes, even the sun had switched to the moon. I could see the fullness of it through the glass roof.
“What my mother said to you was wrong,” Theseus replied, holding my wrist. But it was the mortal me. “I apologize on behalf—”
“I don’t want an apology from you!” I yelled as my eyes filled with tears. “I want one from her. I can’t help that I’m a witch! She was once a witch, so were you, so were all vampires! Why would she call me selfish for not wanting to change? I don’t want to be immortal yet!”
“I know,” he whispered, placing his hands on my face. “And no one is going to force you. I like you mortal.”
“You’d like me no matter what,” I grumbled, looking away. “Your mother, on the other hand, was very clear, and I will not hate myself because of her.”
“Nor should you have to,” he replied, kissing my forehead. “Let’s go.”
“Go? Where?”
“Where ever you want?” he said, already leading me toward the doors.
“Wherever you both go—” We turned back, and there was Rhea dressed in the very same outfit I’d seen her in—“Her coven will not let her live in peace. They will hunt you both down.”
“So be it!” Theseus said. “I am not afraid of the Axel Omeron, or any witch.”
Her eyes shifted to him. “You will have us all go to war because you would not give up your magic? You could avoid all of this by simply becoming immortal, and yet, I am the villain?”
“Mother, that is enough,” he said, stepping in front of me. “We have made our choice.”
“Such words remind me of so many mortals before they die. Stubbornness is a folly for
sure.”
“Druella? Druella?”
Blinking, I looked up to find myself staring at Theseus, instead of looking at us both. Even still, I had to check around, looking up to see the blue sky instead of the moon.
“I’m back,” I whispered slowly.
“Back from where?” Ulrik questioned, walking up next us and sniffing. “You reek of magic, even more so than before. All the colors are swirling like a tornado around you. Why? Brother, what did she do?”
Theseus held onto the side of my face, forcing my attention to him “What my mother said to you was wrong.”
“Stop,” I whispered, my mind still reeling. “You’ve said this before.”
“You went back?” he questioned, surprised.
I shook my head, and I opened my mouth to explain, but I just didn’t know how. Instead, I just lifted my wrist for him.
He glanced at me for a moment and doubled checked. I nodded for him to go ahead. I needed him to see. To make sure I was, in fact, sane. Grabbing my wrist, he gently bit the skin. I was in such a daze, I didn’t even feel it. Instead, I stood staring at him, waiting for him to see. When his eyes widened, they met mine, and I asked the question I didn’t want to believe.
“Was I…was I an Omeron witch?”
“Yes,” the voice answered.
“Once all roads led to Rome, now it leads to the Omeron.” A man with a thick brown beard and long Nordic braids in his hair stepped out dressed in a grey linen Tunic and dark trousers. His accent was thick and heavy, and his fingers were covered in different kinds of markings and tribal tattoos. But the smell of him…I’d had met many old vampires, but it was different with him. Like opening an ancient book and having dust rise up and tickle your nose. When he stepped forward, Ulrik quickly stepped back.
He watched them for a moment before looking to me. “You are right, young one. My son, Theseus has always been the biggest troublemaker of my family, but I fear this time, he has outdone himself in choosing you.”
“Father—”
The ancient vampire merely held up his hand, and Theseus fell silence without question. In a gentle motion, he then outstretched that same hand for me to take. And when Theseus released his grip on me, I knew there was little choice left for me, so I gave it to the old one, expecting him to bite, too.
“Worry not, young one. I do not need to bite to see.” He smiled and nodded just like that and released my hand. Sighing, he turned on his heels and began to walk to the doors, where Rhea stood, glaring at me.
“Leave the young one alone, Draka. She is living proof that no matter who Theseus ended up with, you’d find a fault.” He snickered, walking right past her. “Everyone come inside; this is a family affair, not a public one. And yes, Draka, she is family, even if lines are not yet clear.”
No one argued. We all had to follow, and we did. Theseus and I were the last to walk back inside.
He squeezed my hand tightly, and I squeezed back.
Chapter 23
“Druella,” Sigbjørn called out to me the moment we stepped through the doors, the once empty living room now very full. “You have traveled far. Follow Pelopia, and she shall show you to your room.”
A tall and very slim woman, almost sickly thin, with black, bone straight hair stepped up beside me. Her stern face put Charline a Bonsaint to shame. I glanced to Theseus, not sure what to do. It kind of felt like his father was trying to dismiss me.
“I am not trying to dismiss you, young one.” Sigbjørn knelt in front of the fireplace. “I’m merely trying to make up for the very poor hospitality my mate showed in my absence.”
“Tisk.” Rhea spat out, picking up a random book and looking to that instead of her mate.
“Do not worry, I will not start our introductions or discussions until you return,” he said, placing the firewood inside.
Theseus stepped forward. “I shall escort her then—”
“Do you not know when you are smothering a woman, son?” he stated, adding wet newspapers inside the fire. “She’s has been dragged from one place to another since you’ve entered her life. I do believe she would like some space to collect her thoughts without you. Is that not right, Druella?”
“Umm…” Was I supposed to argue with him? He wasn’t exactly wrong, and the command he had over the room was clear. I looked at Theseus who frowned deeply, looking at me, clearly wounded by the idea that I might want to get away from him. He released his grip on my hand, and oddly, I felt bad.
“Pelopia,” Sigbjørn mentioned her again, and her only response was to turn to me and motion toward the stairs.
Following her, there was no other sound, but I could feel them all watching. I walked along the banister. Sigbjørn lit the fire and moved with gentle grace to a chair, picking up his book, surprising for a man who looked like he’d he was more suited to wrestling a bear.
He snickered and glanced up at me. “I am far too old to be wrestling bears anymore.”
His voice was clear as day in my head. Eyes wide, I realized he could hear me. He could read my mind! He nodded and looked back to his book.
“Now, go on, young one. We will be here, waiting.”
“This way,” Pelopia stated, opening the door for me, and I followed, walking down the corridor.
If everything were normal, I’d be in heaven over the hall we were walking down. I had never been to the Vatican, but this hall was almost an exact replica of the Gallery of Maps or the Galleria delle Carte Geografiche. The gallery that was located on the west side of the Belvedere Courtyard, which I had seen in books and videos during my studies. On either side, between the rooms and the windows, were panel maps of the entire nation in large-scale frescoes, each depicting a region as well as its most prominent city. But unlike the Vatican, the maps were not of fifteenth-century European nations. It was vampire geography, exactly the same as Theseus had shown and explained to me, but on a larger, more glorious scale. They even had the same vaulted ceilings covered in paintings in Ignazio Danti style. Was it actually him, or was it the work of someone older or newer? Who were the images of? Obviously, they would not be religious. I couldn’t answer those questions because even with my heightened senses as a vampire, my emotions, my thoughts, everything I had learned about myself left me feeling almost numb.
I didn’t want to think about it, what being part of the Omeron coven could have meant. I just wanted to look at art or read. I wanted to just…just be me. But who was I? Druella Zirie Monroe. If I were a part of a coven, that meant I knew I was a witch. But I never knew anything supernatural existed until I became the supernatural.
The more I thought about it, the more detached I became, and the more everything just didn’t seem real.
I kept walking until it felt like I ran into a wall. Instead, it was Pelopia. She stood watching me. Her eyes were deader than any vampire I’d ever seen. It wasn’t scary, or rude; it was just empty.
“Sorry, we’re you saying something?”
“This is your room,” she stated before opening the doors. “Your things were delivered and placed inside.”
“Thank you,” I said, entering a large and ornate but barely furnished room.
There was no bed, but a large golden-framed mirror was leaned against the corner, and beside it were large boxes. Smelling something familiar, I moved to the one closest to the door.
“Anything you may require or need, Lady Thorbørn has instructed that we acquire it immediately,” she said from behind me as I pulled out my favorite scented candles.
Confused, I looked back to her. “Lady Thorbørn, as in Rhea?”
She nodded. “She was unaware of how to decorate your room over the years and as such has left it bare for you to design when you arrived.”
That did not seem like the woman I had met downstairs. Wait? “All these years?”
Once again, she nodded. “S
he first knew of you on July 1st, 1920. This room was cleared out and cleaned the next day in preparation for your arrival.”
I glanced around at the large, empty room, which was much bigger than my old apartment before facing her again. “Why?”
“Why?” she repeated, blinking like a computer that didn’t understand code. “Why this room? Because this wing belongs to Master Theseus, and his room is through there.”
That was not the why I was questioning. But nevertheless, I looked at the double-sliding doors, wondering what his could possibly look like when again I replayed her words.
“This wing as in the hallway we walked through?”
She nodded, and I guessed that was going to be how she started every reply. “Master Theseus created it himself.”
If I were mortal and needed to breathe, I would have stopped and just fell to the floor. He painted all of that? The skill of it—I couldn’t even begin.
“Is that all of your questions, mistress?” she asked calmly.
“Mistress?” It felt with each passing day that my name or title was changing. “Please, don’t call me that. Druella is fine.”
“Impossible,” she declared in chilling coldness. “You are a member of the Thorbørn family. You will be called mistress by all of us who work and live here if no other female family member is present. When the rest of the family is present, we shall call you Mistress Druella. To the mortals who know us and in other nations, should you be alone, you would be titled Lady Thorbørn or Princess Druella, as you represent the Thorbørns. The only ones who may call you by your given name are your family, and of course, those ignorant of your position, such as the mortals.”
“Wait.” I smiled only to calm myself and to make sure I didn’t make the same mistake of insulting their traditions as badly as I did in Montréal. “I have not mated Theseus yet, so all of these titles are premature, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think. I don’t question,” she stated, the blankness of her gaze unwavering. “I state what is true only. I follow the words and commands of my masters, mistresses, lord, and lady. Lord Thorbørn has declared you family; thus, you are family.”