My Midnight Moonlight Valentine

by J. J. McAvoy

  “I’ve been meaning to ask,” Theseus spoke, staring at her perplexed. “Who is she?”

  Ulrik and Hinrik broke out it a fit of laughter so loud it almost sounded like howling, leaning onto each other as their voices rumbled.

  “She is my mate, brother.” A boyish man with a freckled face and brown hair frowned, putting his hand on her shoulder from behind the couch.

  “Since when did you have a mate, Arsiein?” Theseus questioned.

  So, this was Arsiein, the French prince and revolutionary. He looked so young, even younger than me.

  “Since the Second World War, Theseus,” he said as if that would ring a bell.

  “There was a second one?” He was both baffled and amused, but not more than Ulrik and Hinrik who had more fuel for their laughter. Ignoring them, he focused on his younger brother. “Last I remembered, they had just gotten out of one. Could they not agree on terms?”

  “Completely new issues and much bloodier,” Arsiein stated seriously, and then he reached over to take his mates hand. “This is Atarah, whom you’ve met many times before.”

  “Even saved my immortal life once,” she added, leaning onto her mate. “Though you did call me the most foolish young one in Ankeiros. And you still haven’t apologized, by the way.”

  “I do not recall, but if it is as you say, I am sure it was warranted.”

  “Theseus,” I snapped, yanking his arm.

  “Oh, how I have missed you, Theseus.” Ulrik grinned. “With Hinrik gone, too, I’ve barely laughed.”

  “Is that so?” Melora sneered, crossing her arms.

  Hinrik got up and away from his brother, shaking his head. “Walked right into that.”

  “You know what I mean, dove—”

  Melora put her hand on his face and pushed him away as he tried to lean in and explain. “Go dove yourself, you ugly bear.”

  “Do not mind them, sister. It seems I shall be the only one to properly introduce myself,” Hinrik said as he walked up to me and kissed my forehead. “I am Hinrik Deo Thorbørn, Theseus’s elder, much wiser, and most-handsome brother. My mate Matias is not here, but he shall welcome you when he returns.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled, tempted to touch my forehead, amazed at the feeling there.

  “Don’t thank him; he’s lying.” Ulrik pushed him, literally out of the way. “He is not the most handsome, and clearly you have eyes and know it is me, sister, Ulrik Leo Thorbørn.”

  He grabbed me by the hands, pulled me to him, and kissed my forehead.

  “Gently,” Theseus growled at him, but Ulrik just grinned.

  Next up was, Melora. “I am Melora Mahidevran Osman Thorbørn. Welcome, sister, you do have the most handsome of the brothers.”

  “Is that so?” Ulrik questioned, clearly mocking her.

  She grinned, ignoring him and moved for Arsiein.

  “Sister, welcome, I am Arsiein Thorbørn, forgive me for using my gift against you. Mother gave me no other choice,” he stated directly, kissing my forehead quickly, and I noticed, he kept his answers direct—but not as harsh and pointed as Pelopia— and stepped aside, allowing his mate to step up.

  She smiled brightly at me. “Young one, how good it feels to call someone else that.”

  I exhaled, really not enjoying that name.

  “I have been the young one for decades now. I’m so glad you are here to take that off me.” She giggled and kissed my forehead. “I am Atarah Thorbørn. I loved your dancing, by the way.”

  Oh dear God, I’d forgotten about that. “Thanks.”

  It didn’t go unnoticed that both of them had no middle or other names to share with me.

  “Druella, you now among family,” Sigbjørn spoke, and all the laughter, the winks, pushes, and the joking ended.

  Everyone looked at him as he lifted a golden goblet of blood Pelopia held on a tray with other types of cups, two of them being drinking horns that were balanced on tips. One all black, which Hinrik took. The other rimmed in sliver for Ulrik. Melora took the large, ornate teacup. Two silver drinking cups were for Arsiein and Atarah. There were three crystal glasses which Rhea and Theseus took...the last one Pelopia handed to me.

  “You may choose yours later, daughter.” Sigbjørn voiced only for me to hear before speaking to us all. “As family, what happens to one of us happens to us all, Druella. You should not be fearful, nothing you say shall be taken lightly. Many of us have seen many things. All of us smelled your magic earlier and again when you were alone. Theseus nearly disobeyed me to find out what was wrong.”

  “Forgive me, Father,” Theseus replied.

  “You would have to be truly contrite for me to do so,” he replied, moving to sit back in his chair by the fire which was still burning. “And you are not, it seems you have not only forgotten the last century but how much I hate your false apologies.”

  “I have not forgotten that. I must give them anyway, or mother then complains.” Theseus stated, leading me over to the couch, everyone moved to sit as well. “I’d rather face your wrath than hers.”

  Everyone else chuckled, but Rhea pretended she could not hear him while drinking her dinner. Sigbjørn looked at his mate, grinning. “Are you listening, Draka? Our son fears you more than me.”

  “I heard him.” She licked the blood off her lips. “But I am not in the mood to jest with him or you. I am more concerned about why my son has lost a hundred years of his memory and why you trust this...our new daughter so much.”

  They stared at each other a long time, and he tapped his finger on his goblet before looking to us. “It seems she will not let us ease into this conversation, so daughter, tell us, or them about the voice, the visions, everything, as it is one of the reasons you came here.”

  All of their eyes now shifted to me. I held onto my glass.

  “I...I don’t know how to explain.” I was barely grasping at the straws of everything as it was.

  “Do try your best,” Rhea stated, clearly impatient and annoying me; it was only my life and mind I was sharing.

  “Fine.” I turned to her. “Before meeting your son, I was a normal vampire. I went to work, I hunted on animals, and I went home to read. Then one night, all of a sudden, he appeared naked, out of nowhere, in the middle of the forest, trying to mate me, telling me he had no recollection of the last century. I thought I was being a good Samaritan, and I took home, even after he killed a bunch of witches—”

  “And saved your life,” Theseus cut in.

  “And saved my life, though he didn’t tell me I was running toward danger. Anyway,” I rolled my eyes. “I took him home, and then the very next day I was attacked by witches. I found out I had a gift, which lets me reverse time. Which came in handy because he almost had us in war with more witches.” I looked at Theseus, waiting for him to deny it, but he just drank.

  “Sounds like him.” Arsiein nodded.

  “I don’t blame him. They were witches, most likely doing something wrong anyway.” Ulrik lifted his horn to his brother.

  “Let her finish,” Rhea snapped at them and turned to me. “Go on. You avoided war with these witches you encountered?”

  “Yes, they were Omeron witches. We were helped by the Swan family. We went to the capital, and everything felt fine with me again until Theseus found maps that showed he’d visited me as a mortal...a witch. But I don’t remember that. I thought he was mistaken until we kissed, and I saw myself but as a witch. Like memories, I don’t know what triggers them, but they just appear. On top of that, my gift keeps changing. I was healing mortals, casting spells, everything witches do. The magic...I can feel it like mortals feel the sun on their face. I just knew I could do things, and if wasn’t sure, I’d hear this voice that would tell me what to do. I didn’t think much about until it...she...I told me that all that was important was magic and Theseus.”

  “Wh
at do you mean, she or I?” Theseus questioned gently, his eyes looking over me.

  “In the room,” I whispered, but I didn’t know why. “I was trying to sort out my thoughts and feelings, and she kept talking. I wanted to know who or what was in my head, and so I cast another spell. It was me, mortal, witch me...and I had on a straitjacket like an insane person, Theseus. She kept saying, “Free us.” I tried to pull it off but burned my hand, and then she disappeared. I saw us again afterward. Part of me feels like I’m slowly losing my mind, and the only thing I know is I feel better around you.”

  He reached up, put his hand on my face, and leaned in, kissing my forehead. “Whatever is happening, we will figure it out. You are not insane.”

  “We do not know that for sure,” Rhea muttered but looked at her mate. “Or do we?”

  “When a mortal becomes an immortal, they become one of two creatures, a Noble or a Lesser blood vampire, depending on how much magic, if any, is in their blood.” Sigbjørn ignored her question, looking directly at me. “At rebirth, all that magic is either gone or condensed into one ability. Yet that is not the case for you; you are different.”

  “Isn’t her gift just magic, then?” Melora asked, her eyes shifting to me.

  “Magic is not a gift.” Sigbjørn declared. “Our kind has given the word gift to the abilities that remain in us Noble bloods, but it is not so. A gift is something that can be given or taken away. No one gave you the abilities you have. It’s the remnants of the magic, of your witch blood that is left in your blood after surviving your rebirth. Noble bloods who have no abilities used all their magic to survive the rebirth and remain well. Lesser bloods who have no magic, are born similar to a human child who is sickly all its life.”

  “So,” Theseus replied, his eyes on his father. “She had so much magic within her that there was more than enough left over, and so it remained?”

  “Thus, she is not a vampire with gifts of a witch. She is a vampire and witch still.”

  Chapter 25

  “Just how powerful were you, sister?” Ulrik grinned, looking at me as if I were an alien. “Dumb question. You were an Omeron witch, so pretty powerful, but even still. That is amazing.”

  “Maybe in theory, but I don’t remember being in a coven. Hell, I don’t remember ever using magic before meeting Theseus,” I explained.

  “So, something is wrong with your memory as well? Oh dear, why do you think you do not remember?” Atarah pouted, looking between both of us. “Did you two drink a potion or something?”

  “Ate a poison apple, perhaps?” Ulrik chuckled at his own joke.

  “If only it were so simple,” Sigbjørn replied. Leaning back into his chair, he looked at his mate. “I am withholding something, Draka, but I do not know all the answers here, either. Patience is a virtue as much as stubbornness is a vice. Hinrik, I do believe you have yet to speak.”

  Rhea’s jaw tensed, but she didn’t say anything, allowing Sigbjørn to give his attention to Hinrik who had kept his gaze trained on us this whole time.

  “Druella, have we ever met before?” Hinrik questioned.

  “No, not that I can remember.”

  “What of any us here?” he pressed.

  I shook my head again.

  “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I can be, considering.”

  “What is this about?” Theseus questioned.

  “We’ve met her before, brother,” Hinrik stated to the surprise of everyone else in the room. “Or at the very least, she knew about us.”

  “What are you talking about? This is the first time we are all being introduced. You just welcomed her yourself,” Ulrik spoke.

  “I welcomed her as a sister; that does not mean I did not know her before.”

  “So, you have met me?” I asked, not understanding.

  Hinrik shook his head and reached out, pinching his fingers in the space in front of his body. I still didn’t understand until I felt a pull as he tugged on the air in front of him. Reaching up to my chest, I held my hand over my heart.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Are you alright?” Theseus whispered, placing his hand on my back.

  I nodded. It was painful, and it was just like being pulled.

  “Forgive me,” Hinrik replied. “That is my gift. I can not only see your own, but I can also see when it is being used on others. It’s like a thread. When Ulrik switches the gift between two vampires, there is a silver thread that links back to him no matter how far away he is from them. So, I know when Ulrik used his gift and whom he used it on.”

  “There is a thread between you and her?” Theseus frowned. “Why would that be ?”

  “It not just me; it is on all of us.” He reached out one by one and did what he did with me on to the rest of them.

  “She did something to us?” Melora held her hand over her chest. “When? How?”

  “Most importantly, what?” Ulrik’s face was now hard, and his eyes fixed on me dangerously, making Theseus growl. “Do not growl at me brother. It is your mate that is attacking us.”

  “I—”

  “I never said it was an attack,” Hinrik cut in before I could defend myself.

  “If it is not an attack, what possible reason could there be for her to use witchcraft on us?” Arsiein questioned, his eyes just as hard as Ulrik’s.

  “Whatever the reason, you will stop glaring at her as if she is an enemy or you shall be mine,” Theseus snapped at them both, and I squeezed his hand hard to make him calm down.

  “Will all of you let me bloody finish?” Hinrik yelled. They all sat back but didn’t relax. “For heavens, Ulrik, Arsiein, calm yourselves. If she is not attacking, then it is must be a defense. The thread is golden; she is protecting us from something.”

  Arsiein and Ulrik both moved to question him further, but he glared at them both, and they held back, for now, still eyeing me unsure.

  “I noticed a year ago,” Hinrik referred to his father. “What is it she is protecting us from? I don’t know. How is it we are being protected? I also do not know. However, I know it to be true. At first, it was subtle; usually, I know exactly what is happening. I can trace it back to whoever it is, but this time, it wasn’t. In the beginning, I could not even see the thread. I was sure I felt it, though. Nevertheless, I was still doubtful, and I went to Father and explained. Now I am sure it exists, and it connects us all back to Druella. Now you may all question.”

  “That is the reason you both left?” Rhea asked her mate. “You were searching for her.”

  Sigbjørn nodded, not the least bit surprised by this conversation, though he was probably listening more to our thoughts than or words.

  “Very wise, my daughter.” His voice entered my mind before he spoke. “Hinrik came to me a year ago with this. Daughter, I can see a history of who or whatever with a single touch—everything that brought them to be exactly as they are now. So, imagine my surprise upon searching your minds and seeing you all had gaps in your memories as well.”

  “Nothing is off about my memory.” Melora rubbed her head like she still felt him searching in there.

  “What did we do for Theseus’s birthday last year?” Sigbjørn question.

  “He wasn’t here; he was in America,” Atarah answered, and they all nodded except Hinrik.

  “I did not ask you where he was. I asked, what did we do? What did you do that day?” Sigbjørn pressed, and they all looked at each other.

  Again, Atarah spoke up. “It was a normal day. I went out to the gardens, Arsiein and I read in the library, went for a hunt in town, and that is it.”

  “Are you sure that is it?” Sigbjørn asked back.

  “Father, we could hardly remember exactly what happens on every normal day in our existence,” Arsiein spoke this time, and Ulrik agreed.

  “But it was not a norma
l day,” Rhea whispered with an intense frown on her lips. “It was Theseus’s birthday. On all of your birthdays, I demand you call one another, no matter what happens. I feel as though I called, but I cannot remember what was said. I can barely remember...that is unlike me.”

  They were all quiet as they all tried to remember.

  “Exactly.” Sigbjørn voice was stern and his accent more severe as he spoke. “Details are gone from your memories. Like pages blacked out. Now there is just a general feeling for days and events that should be important. Last year especially; it is as if that whole year went by, and nothing of importance happened. What is one year for us who have eternity? Many years do go by as such. However last year was no ordinary year if it was the year of rebirth for our newest daughter.” His eyes fell on me. “But our past histories are not as severely effected as yours, my dear child. Your mind and how you came to be make no sense to me.”

  “What do you mean? Most of my mortal life I remember as normal?” I thought back to everything that ever happened to me. It didn’t make sense to me.

  “Yes, however, but far too normal to be truly normal,” he replied, and I could feel him in my head again. “From what I see, your mortal life was simple and smooth. I have lived thousands of years, and never have I seen a life so devoid of feeling. You lost your mother at birth, and yet you lived on fine. You made friends, you went to school, and you were distant from your father. He died, and you did not cry. You packed up his stuff, and you lived fine. You went to university, you attempted to connect with others, but it was rare and cold. Then you got a job, and that was fine. Nowhere in your memories can I see deep wounds or ties to anyone, things that fundamentally shape who you are as a person. In fact, your character before your rebirth is that of someone who seemed to have been drugged. It is as though your memories are a story meant only to give you a history to tell others.”

  I thought about that for a moment before shaking my head, not willing to accept it. “That is not completely true. I have many people in my mortal memory that I care about.”