by J. J. McAvoy
“Did Ulrik send you?” Theseus questioned.
“No,” he said with a frown. “It was Father. We have company coming, and Father wishes for us to greet them,” he stated, and Theseus frowned, glancing at me.
“Both of us?” he questioned.
“Yes. Wiccans of the Vyara are on their way here. They did not send word,” Arsiein answered, and Theseus’s face was deadly.
All the humor and playful conversation between us had vanished. “Give us a few minutes.” Was all Theseus said to his brother, who just nodded and left without another word.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“Politics,” he replied, moving to his closet. “When our family took over these lands, we were at constant war with the Wiccan. Wars we won. Father gave them an ultimatum. They could leave, die, or stay upon their ancestral lands, practice as they wished, with no fear of retaliation so long as they let the vampires upon our lands be and accepted that it was now our land.”
“The ones that stayed are Wiccans of the Vyara?” I asked, getting out of bed myself.
“Yes and no. The Wiccans of the Vyara is a title. They are a sort of council for their kind. They represent Wiccans from the covens that stayed in Ankeiros. In meeting them, you cannot let them know anything about yourself. Especially your gift. They only know for sure the gifts of Father, myself, and Arsiein.”
“Are you sure I should be going to this?” I didn’t know anything of these people or the history of them beyond what Theseus had just told me, and I doubted that even began to cover the whole story.
“No, I am not sure.” He placed his hands on my arms. “But Father has already ordered it. We must do as we are told and play the part of the mighty royal Thorbørn family.”
“Right, you all are royalty here.”
“We all are Princess Druella.” He kissed my forehead. “You are a Thorbørn now; these are things we must tend to.”
Chapter 32
When we came down the stairs, Melora was already there in all her glory. Atarah stood in contrast to Melora’s more edgy style, wearing a bright pink floral sundress. They both looked from their phones to us. The bright red hair I’d seen Atarah with on the first day was now changed to a sliver-blond, shoulder-length set of curls. Melora was the first to move to the bottom of the stairs.
“The Wiccans of the Vyara were just attacked. Four of the six are dead,” Melora announced.
“We only just heard of them coming? And now they have been attacked? By whom?” Theseus questioned.
“Father would not have anyone wait. He sent Arsiein and Hinrik to the hospital to see the one who survived, but the humans will most likely rush her to surgery before they catch up.” Atarah took a step forward.
“Four are dead. One is on the way to the hospital. That makes five. Where is the sixth?” Theseus asked, looking between them.
“Missing,” Atarah replied. “And Father is not pleased.”
“He’s gone to the crime scene with Ulrik; however, the local police have already deemed it a mere car accident,” Melora added.
It had only been ten minutes since Arsiein came to our door. Theseus had done his best to fill me in on as much of their history with the witches as he could during that time. He’d even told me how I should act around them. But now, that didn’t seem to matter. Vampires moved fast by nature, but for them to leave so hurriedly—without explaining to Theseus and for both Melora and Atarah to be so quick to fill him in—like a rapid response team to the death of mortals, meant this wasn’t a small thing.
“Besides the missing one, how do you know this wasn’t just a car accident?” It might have been a stupid question, but I still wanted to know.
“Because they are the Vyara.” Atarah answered me exactly as one would a stupid question.
“What she means is,” Melora clarified in a less sarcastic tone. “Those in the Vyara are not just any Wiccan; they’re the heads of covens. To be a head coven witch, you must be the strongest. A car accident shouldn’t have been able to kill any of them. Someone would simply cast a spell.”
“The most suspect is the timing,” Theseus replied, pulling out a phone from his pocket. “They were coming to see us with no prior word, and on their way, they are in an accident which prevented them from doing so.”
“What could the Wiccan have to tell us that would cause their own deaths?” Atarah asked. “It’s not as if we’re allies.”
“She’s right.” Melora nodded, crossing her arms. “If whatever news they brought was so important that blood would be spilled for it, the Wiccan would have kept it to themselves.”
“Unless they themselves needed our help,” Theseus replied and checked his phone. There was a message from Ulrik with only one word.
“Come.”
He looked at the phone and then to me with worry in his eyes.
“What?” Why was he looking at me like that?
“You worry too much, Theseus. She’s fine here. Go.” Melora nodded at him. “Besides, Father said we should remain with her and take her back to the library to work on her magic.”
“She just recovered from his last task.”
Atarah shrugged. “We all have our part to do.”
He shook his head and seemed prepared to argue when we glanced up at the sound of the door opening. There, Rhea, in a simple long, grey skirt and white blouse entered at the top of the stairs. Her long, black hair was in a single French braid.
“Why are you still here, Theseus.” From the tone of her voice that was not a question but a warning.
“I was just leaving,” Theseus replied, clearly understanding. He turned to me and kissed my forehead.
I nodded at him, so he could go, but he didn’t walk toward the doors before saying, “She may be thirsty again.”
“Have I ever allowed any of my children to starve, my son?” Rhea questioned, gracefully stepping down the stairs.
“Never.” He smirked, nodding to her once and turning to me, giving me one more look before leaving.
When he was gone, Rhea let out a small huff of annoyance.
“Hello, Mother. How are you? Forgive me for ignoring you these last two days upon returning home after years.” Rhea mocked before she looked at Melora and Atarah. “Would that have been too much to say? Instead, he is concerned we will mistreat Druella in his absence.”
“In his defense,” Melora replied, stepping beside me and taking my arm. “Ulrik was very much the same with me in our first year as mates. You were not so angry with him.”
“He had good reason to be worried,” she said back. “You were the first to mate one of Sigbjørn’s sons. He did not know how our family would accept you. Theseus is the last. He should know I am not the evil-mother-in-law type.”
Could have fooled me.
“You had Arsiein hide everyone from Druella the moment she stepped inside the room. That is a bit evil.” Atarah giggled.
Rhea’s eyes zeroed in on me. “Did you believe me to be an evil mother-in-law?”
Melora and Atarah also turned to me, waiting for my answer. I glanced at both of them from the corner of my eye, hoping they’d give me a clue as to how to respond. But they brought their poker faces. Fine. I’d tell the truth. “I was thinking less of an evil mother-in-law and more like a helicopter mom with a dash of overally judgmental mixed in?”
There was silence.
Melora and Atarah eyes began to go wide.
Rhea’s delicate eyebrow rose as did her whole face as she lifted her head.
The silence was so loud that I opened my mouth to say something, anything to get past this moment; however, Rhea snorted—like actually snorted, having to put her hand over her mouth as she burst into laughter. When she laughed, she looked so warm, not like the graceful, daunting, and all-powerful Lady Thorbørn, but a tender mom.
“
You have given me the best answer,” she finally replied, placing her hand on her chest to calm herself. “When I asked Melora, she lied. Atarah began to sink into the floor. She so badly did not want to answer. Your honesty is refreshing.”
I looked over to my left. “You sank into the floor?”
“It was just my feet!” she said defensively, not understanding that I was more surprised that she could than how deep she went.
“Your ankles were in, too,” Melora added.
“Sorry, I can’t lie as well as you,” Atarah pouted.
“It is nothing to apologize for; it’s a gift.” Melora winked over at Atarah, making her roll her eyes. “Besides, you enjoyed my answer the best; didn’t you, Mother.”
“As I feared.” Rhea walked over to us. “Ulrik’s delusions have corrupted you as well. Spending so much time with only your mate can make you start acting like them, too.”
“Is that true?” I questioned. “Or are you just trying to make me spend less time with Theseus, so he can hang out with you, too?”
Melora and Atarah held back chuckles, both of them now linking arms with me. Rhea’s icy glare returned.
“What are you two laughing at? Take her to the library alre…” Her voice trailed off, and I didn’t wonder why, because we all smelled it.
Blood.
And the very same door Theseus had left through opened. Pelopia—her face as stark and grave as last I saw her—came through, her attention on Rhea. “My lady, it is the Wiccan Thimble. He is gravely injured and demands an audience immediately.”
Rhea looked at Atarah. “Call everyone so they can hear. I have a feeling this will need the whole family’s attention.”
Atarah was already pulling out her phone, while Rhea moved to the door.
“Why must there be so much chaos this week?” She sighed to herself.
“Come.” Melora nodded for me to follow them.
Rhea stood in front of all of us as we stepped out into the receiving hall. Once again it left me awed—the perfectly polished mosaic tiles on the left and on the right rows of larger than life statues, underneath the skylight directly above us. The sunlight cast a rectangle of light directly on top of an older man with grey-brown hair and olive skin. His suit was ripped, torn, and blood-stained. The wound on his forehead bled over his eye, and the worst of his injuries was his left arm which hung uselessly. It was clearly broken, and the discoloration of his skin was almost purple. It had to be infected with something.
“I do hope you have good reason to be here, Thimble, and you are not just bleeding on our grounds for nothing.” Rhea’s voice was cold and aloof as she stepped down the stairs and into the sunlight. Focusing, I made sure to watch Melora and Atarah. The last thing I wanted to do was break the rules any more than I already had.
“We were attacked.” He groaned, holding his arm.
“So, we’ve been told. But what business is that of ours?” Rhea asked as she circled the man, her grey eyes looking over every inch and cut on him. “Your wounds are very grave, Thimble. Should you not seek a healing witch or a human’s care? Perhaps you have decided to evolve into a greater being?”
“I’d rather die,” he hissed so harshly that he nearly spat at her.
“You are on the right path then,” she stated, coming to a stop right in front of him. “You do not have time to wait for Lord Thorbørn to take the information from your mind, so you must explain to us.”
“We were attacked because of you all.” He gritted his teeth, his bloody body shaking.
“The wounds on you were not caused by our kind,” Rhea stated, once again beginning to circle him.
“Where is the witch?” he demanded, his bloody eyes looking to all of us who had not moved from the steps.
“There is no witch here but you, Thimble.”
His head whipped back to her. “Then you have killed them?”
“Careful, mortal. You accuse us unjustly.”
“Then where is the witch?” he snapped, limping as he turned to face her, but she moved behind him again. “I do not have time for your games or lies! Two days ago, all of us felt the magic of a witch powerful enough to open the door to the dead on your lands. Someone is using magic here. We all sense it. It is impossible to ignore.”
Please do not let this be about me. Please do not let this be about me.
From behind him, Rhea’s eyes glanced at me for only a second as if she could read my mind and was telling me not to get my hopes up. “Once again, I must correct you. Until today, only vampires have dwelled in this home. Pelopia take him to rest—”
“Rest?” he shouted as Rhea walked back to us. “There shall be no rest! The witch you have stolen and kept belongs to the Omeron coven!”
Damn it! This was about me.
“Since when was an American coven given seat among the Wiccans of the Vyara?” Rhea demanded calmly.
He didn’t answer her question, taking a bloody step forward. When he did, more than a dozen vampires stepped forward, standing in the shadows between the columns. Where they came from, I had no idea. And just how many vampires where here? I hadn’t noticed any before. Thimble did not seem to care or notice them.
“The Omeron believe you have kidnapped one of their own and came to retrieve them. The Vyara did not want conflict between our kinds. We sought to come and ask you directly today when we felt the magic again. If a witch has committed any offense to you, they should be judged by their kind, or be given the right—”
“It seems your ears were also damaged, Thimble,” Rhea voiced ever so gently. “For I have said more than once now that we have no witches here, only vampires. Nor have we kidnapped any. Nor do we want any. This coven is mistaken, and you have wasted your time coming so far. This is the twenty-first century. We do have phones. You could have called, and we would have told you the same.”
“Do not ignore our goodwill and warning, Thorbørn! The Omeron have none, and they will destroy anyone or anything that get in their way, mortal or immortal. You do not know this coven, what they are, or what they can do. They hold us all by the throat.”
“Maybe your throat but not ours! We do not cower to witches. We do not cower to any mortal or immortal. We are Thorbørn, and should they question or doubt what that name means, they are free to come as many have come before them. We will lay waste to them as we have done all others.” She shot a single look at Pelopia before turning back. Melora and I parted, allowing her to walk through.
“You do not know the importance of the witch you have!” He hollered as Pelopia grabbed on to his arm. “I say this to prevent war! The Omeron witch you have is said to be the one true daughter of Circe!” Rhea paused pause and turn back to him.
“The one true daughter of Circe? The Goddess of magic?” Rhea asked. “The witch that is to bring a new dawn, end the eternal night, marking the end of all vampires?”
“That is why the Omeron will not stop. They believe—”
“You wiccans have been proclaiming this prophecy since the beginning of the first age.” Rhea interrupted him. “Do you all truly believe that such a powerful witch is among us? How could we even hold such a being captive? Spare me your myths and prophecies, wiccan, for they have never made sense.”
With that she turned her back on him and began to walk forward. Melora took my arm, guiding me through the iron doors, even as he kept yelling like the end of days were coming. Even still, I couldn’t help but look back at him. Pelopia stood as two other vampires did something to him, causing him to all but collapse. I listened for his heartbeat, and there was one, thankfully. The iron doors shut behind us before I could see where they had taken him. Feeling a slight jab to my side, my gaze shifted to Melora, but she kept her eyes forward, doing the same I came face to face with Rhea, a deep frown on her lips.
“What trouble have you brought to our doorstep, daughter?
”
I had no idea.
Chapter 33
“His greatest fear is the Omeron,” Rhea told all of us, everyone now home again. “He did not wish to say it, but it is clear they were the ones that attacked them.”
We were in the library only because Sigbjørn had come here first. He moved throughout it in search of something. What? We weren’t sure. However, it didn’t stop anyone from talking as if they were not at all curious. Everyone but Theseus, who held on to my hand and said nothing, continued on speaking. Theseus watched his father move between the rows.
“So, witches are attacking witches now?” Atarah questioned.
“Witches have always attacked each other,” Arsiein replied, his demeanor calm, and yet the concern on his freckled face was clear. “However, for one of the Vyara to be so fearful of one coven that they even replaced us as his greatest fear is not something we should ignore.”
“It’s not something we should be overly concerned about either, brother. They are one coven. We are Thorbørns,” Ulrik scoffed and shifted to lean his back on Melora for no other reason than to bug her. “Besides aren’t these witches the same ones that were spellbound and powerless? You fought them and defeated them, did you not, Theseus?”
“Theseus doesn’t remember. Druella undid the battle.” Melora pushed his head with her two fingers.
Ulrik rolled his baby blue eyes and looked at me. “However, before you did so, he won, did he not, Dru?”
When did he start calling me Dru?
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know if you’d call it a victory. He was poisoned by one of the enchanted snakes,” I replied.
Ulrik frowned like I had let him down. “That would hardly hurt him even if it were severe. Theseus could cut off his arm, and he’d be whole and well within the day.”
“That is not the point,” spoke Hinrik. “The point is they felt Druella’s magic. For all we know, every time she uses magic, they can feel it. And now, they want her because of it. Whether they know it’s her or not is unclear, but they’re willing to kill the head witches of other covens merely for trying to negotiate with us over her.”