David
London, 1857
David rose from where he sat. “I believe I’ve heard quite enough,” he said quietly.
Morrigan’s eyes gradually opened as she came back to the physical realm, her eyes sweeping over the room she’d left, pulling reality back to her.
He turned, unable to look her in the eye.
“David…”
He didn’t turn around. “Please don’t.”
He was out of the manor in moments, the late October wind prematurely bitter as it kicked up the dead leaves that scattered the rusting grass. He tore through their swirling piles with no real direction, needing to be freed of them all.
He reached the city on foot, the escalating wind absolving it of its daily smog as it howled angrily through the creaks and crevices of the tightly packed buildings. Travelers pulled their cloaks tighter against its chill as a few wayward hats found their way across the street. Many retreated indoors, for the pubs and theatres were still open for patronage, their dim lights glowing through sooty windows, beckoning chilled citizens into their warmth.
He was glad to be left alone on the street, knowing how strange he must look dressed in his house clothes, hatless, and on foot. He slipped down an alley, skillfully navigating its turns until he reached the barricaded door of his favorite opium den. He pushed through it, the owner blinking in surprise before recognizing him. “Come, come, shut the door, the air is too cold.”
He obeyed, the suffocating haze of opium smoke resuming its hold on the room.
“The usual, sir?” she asked politely, although her eyes briefly scanned over his shabby appearance. He could hear her thoughts, clucking sounds of disapproval in Chinese.
“No. I wish to be well supplied, but regardless of that, I do not want to be disturbed by anyone.” He placed several banknotes into her open palm.
“Of course, sir,” she nodded, trying to temper her excitement at the overpayment.
The quiet back room greeted him with its familiar sordid appeal, though he had to wrest away the recent memory of his once nameless companion, the withering woman who would be reborn as his lover. He closed his eyes, trying not to picture her adoring gaze as he held her, the way her blue eyes managed to sparkle the same throughout their many lifetimes. Did they sparkle for him?
He wasted no time in anesthetizing, letting the murky brown smoke carry him to blissful intoxication, a blurry world where he was unable to discern reality from dream. He had no idea how long he occupied the dank back room, floating in and out of oblivion, only that the owner came in periodically to refill his spirits and tar as the hours—days ticked by.
No one ever asked him to leave, gratefully accepting the handfuls of coins and bills he continued to throw their way, lighting his bowl when his hands grew too heavy and setting the pipe nearby when he slipped into unconsciousness. He dreamt of Gaia and of Morrigan and handfuls of children, some blonde and green eyed, some with crow wings. He saw Lucius’s grinning face as he held him under water, drowning him as his eyes glowed red fire. He sailed through the endless skies amongst the clouds, heard Gaia's sweet voice calling to him from the heavens.
And then, one day, the owner stood in the doorway, a deep frown creasing her face. “It has been too many days, sir. Your money has run out.”
“Nonsense, I have more,” David slurred. He absently wondered how much time had passed as he searched his pockets, surprised to find his money had indeed run out. His vision was still blurred from intoxication, a dull ache settling between his eyes as he looked her way. Then he smelled her, heard the blood rush through her veins. Hunger awoke inside him, an edacious beast that had gone long unsatisfied.
He lunged before she had a chance to scream, holding her tightly against him as he sank his teeth into her neck. The hot, sticky blood poured from her veins like a fountain of nectar, reviving his senses. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, drinking greedily and without remorse before her thoughts came rushing to him. He saw the long journey across the sea that had taken her mother and father away by sickness, the determined look on her face when she realized she’d be raising her brothers and sisters, her brief and failed experiment as a whore, and the clever way she’d come into proprietorship. It shook him from his stupor and his sanity returned. He threw her away from him with a gasp, frantic as he checked to make sure she still lived. He found a pulse, offering him a sliver of relief before it was replaced by shame, and he tore out of the den as fast as he could.
He realized his supernatural speed was not up to par, the days of pumping poison into his body leaving him weak and disoriented. He paused in an alley to catch his breath, attempting to steady his legs and slow his racing heartbeat while fighting the euphoria drinking human blood caused.
“Stay right where you are, blood drinker.”
David looked up to see the tip of an arrow pointed inches from his face, the glinting metal tip revealing it had been dipped in silver. “Please,” he pleaded, sluggishly. “I don’t mean any harm. I have had quite a rough few days…”
The woman behind the arrow laughed at him, the sound echoing throughout the dead alleyway. The light from the streetlamps barely reached where they stood, but he could see the faint outline of her hair, curly and wild like the mane of a lion. “I’m sure you have,” she said wryly. “Did you not just attempt to murder the owner of the Dragon Den? I’m not surprised, but to murder someone in their own establishment with witnesses present seems absolutely foolish.”
“Please, I do not want a fight,” David managed. He struggled to stand, his lack of nourishment and excessive intake of opium arguing against it.
“Who said anything about a fight?” she snorted. The more she spoke, she revealed an accent he could not place, one strangely familiar to him. “Our situation appears simple to me. I let go of my arrow, it pierces your heart, you die.”
David sighed. “I am much older than any blood drinker you’ve ever known. It will take more than a silver tipped arrow to kill me.”
She took a step forward, a ray of amber lamplight bringing her face into view. She appeared quite young, but her fierce brown eyes told a different tale, and the arm that held her bow string was muscular under the rolled sleeves of her linen shirt. She wore a man’s trousers and riding boots, and her cloak was presumably also a man’s, draped over a high collared blouse open at the neck and gathered by a handmade vest instead of a corset. He could not hear her thoughts, which let on that she was either a creature or a spellcaster. At that moment, he honestly could not tell which. “What is your name?” she asked.
“David.”
She looked surprised. “Fortune smiles down upon you this night, for it seems you are the one I have been searching for. However, I have long learned not to trust a blood drinker as far as I might throw one, so you’ll be coming with me.”
David didn’t even have time to flinch before he was shot with a net that barbed him with silver spikes. He groaned, reminded of the first time he’d been captured that way, knowing it meant he was now incapacitated beyond self-sufficiency.
She secured her crossbow and retrieved her fallen hat, putting it on her head before wrapping her arms around him. David struggled to breathe through the pain, focusing instead on her voice as she whispered ancient words he’d long forgotten, smoke thickening around them until it blacked out his senses.
When the smog cleared, they were no longer in the alleyway, but an isolated, windowless cabin, far from the city hum. She released him from the net, and he fell to the ground, the lingering burn of caustic metal adding to the dull ache of opium withdrawal. She let him be, satisfied he was too weak to cause her trouble, and went to stoke the fire.
David heard a low growl nearby, but she shushed the wolf situated in the corner with a low cluck of her tongue.
“Be warned, she will not hesitate to rip you apart if you make so much as one move to harm me,” she informed him, glancing over her shoulder before resuming her task.
David looked around as the fire brought light into the room, noting the full collection of furs—from bear to fox to wolf—draped over wooden furnishings that appeared to have been made from local trees. Herbs and plants hung from the ceilings, while weaponry and bottles cluttered the tables. The casual way she stored healing herbs amongst tools of murder reminded him of Hekate and Dragos, the apothecary twins of Romania. He didn’t speak, waiting patiently on the floor for her to address him. Though he frequently killed animals without much exertion, he knew that in his present weakened state, fighting either her or her wolf would present him with some difficulty.
She finally turned to study him, hands on her hips. Her face was round but defined by the apples of her cheeks, her lips full and her eyebrows pointed. Her hair was a deep brown that pulled gold flakes from her fawn-colored eyes, her skin freckled by frequent sun. “I am inclined to believe you are who you say you are,” she began. “But I have been fooled by shapeshifters before. It makes it difficult when I cannot hear their thoughts.”
“You are telepathic as well?”
“I have many abilities,” she said shortly. “But there is only one way I will be able to discover if you truly are who you say you are.”
David smiled weakly. “My blood?”
“Yes. Willingly or not, I require your blood.”
David lifted his sleeve. “Would you like to do the honors?”
She searched his eyes, then threw him a knife that had been laying on a table nearby. It was followed by a metal bowl that hit the ground with a clang. “Don’t worry. If you really are David, I’ll make sure you get nourishment afterwards.”
David winced as he carved into his arm, black blood splattering the bowl she’d provided for him. As it drained, his body buckled in defiance, a painful reminder of his lack of rest and sustenance.
She snatched the bowl and lifted it to her lips. Her eyes never left his as she drank it, his own vision wavering as he watched her consume every last drop. Her eyes rolled back as she listened to his blood song, centuries of memories trickling into her consciousness. Just when David thought he could hold out no longer, she dropped the bowl, which landed into the ground with a sharp clang as her eyes refocused. She wiped her lips, her teeth stained as if she’d eaten charcoal.
“My apologies, David,” she offered mildly. She grabbed a bottle and tossed it his way, giving a nod to her wolf. It abruptly rose from its resting place and headed out into the night.
David fumbled with the cork, shaky hands lifting the bottle to his lips. The blood was cold and aged, but he swallowed it down gratefully.
“I’m sorry it’s not very good. I’ve sent my wolf to bring us a fresh hare.” She seemed a bit drowsy herself, both from the rush of his memories and the lingering opium. She slumped down onto the chair nearest to the fire, her long curls fanning out along the gray fur draped over it. “You knew Jesus?”
David nodded.
“How can you bear being so old, seeing so many things?” she asked.
David considered her question as he choked down the rest of the bottle. “I forget a lot,” he replied. “My memories float back when they need to.”
She nodded. “My name is Cahira.”
“Pleased to meet you,” David responded, before his mind connected the dots. “Wait…”
Her wolf interrupted, bursting through the door along with a squall of cold autumn wind. It threw a still alive hare at David, which he tore into immediately. The warm, fresh blood revived him at once, but he did not pause until the poor creature was drained completely. “Thank you,” he gasped, feeling his strength return.
Cahira nodded, taking the rabbit from him, and moving toward the table. She pulled a tiny axe out of the drawer, swiftly severing the animal’s head and tossing it to her wolf before removing the skin to spit the meat.
David was amazed to have discovered the woman from Dan’s tale, but decided not to tell her, curious to see what information she might have, and not wanting to turn her off from telling it.
“I am semimortal myself, but I do not survive on blood,” she explained as she went to the fireplace to cook the meat.
David found himself finally able to rise, the wolf keeping a watchful eye on him as he lifted himself from the floor. “May I sit?” he asked.
She nodded.
He took the chair opposite where she cooked, its fox fur soft against his skin. The light from the fireplace brought attention to his stained clothing and the dirt that had collected under his fingernails. He winced as he remembered the reason behind his filth.
Fortunately, she interrupted his morbid contemplation. “I’ve been looking for you for quite some time, as I was told you are the original daemon hunter.”
“Is that what you are? A daemon hunter?”
“I am what I am,” she shrugged. “I was once connected to the spirit realms, but not since they’ve been abolished.”
“So you’ve heard.”
“Yes,” she sighed.
“Do you know what caused all this to happen? Or what can fix it?”
Cahira brought her provisions with her, settling in the nearby chair. “It’s funny, I’ve been searching a lifetime to ask you precisely the same thing. But not too long ago, I was finally contacted by an anthropomorphic jackal who called himself Anubis, who told me that I must find you and the rest of the Ancient Ones and bring them with me to Africa, where he lives.”
David’s eyes widened. “That is my son. So he has reincarnated … is he safe?”
“Your son?” Cahira looked equally surprised. “How strange,” she remarked. “Unfortunately, I don’t know about his well-being, only that he wants you to join him. It took strong magic for him to contact me, since the realms are gone, and the astral plane is overflowing. I’m assuming he wouldn’t have gone to the trouble if it wasn’t imperative.”
“Africa,” David murmured, taking it in. “Where life began.”
“I plan to sail there in two days from now when my ship is ready, regardless of your decision. But I would hope you and your following will join me.”
“Yes, of course,” David replied, though he frowned as he thought of returning home.
“Don’t worry, we don’t have to leave yet.”
David blushed. “I’m not used to having to shield my thoughts from others.”
Cahira laughed. “You must have done it naturally at first. It’s a bit more difficult when they’re linked to emotion.”
“Have you always been telepathic?”
“I have quite a few natural powers, including the ability to communicate on the lines the animals use. That’s all telepathy is really, humans have just separated themselves from it over the years. Your thoughts are quiet, but your emotions are loud.”
“Fascinating.”
“In fact, I have a few more things to tell you before we leave, if you have the time to listen.”
Morrigan’s face appeared in David’s mind, the vision like a knife to his stomach. “Yes, please,” he replied. “I have plenty of time.”
“Then I will start at the beginning.”
Cahira
Carpathian Mountains, 1740
She grew up a child of the woods, a wolf cub and the daughter of a ghost.
She knew no other life than the one where she ran with the pack, watching as they stalked their prey, finding shelter during the snowstorms. She slept in caves under furs, ate berries and rabbits, and bathed in the rivers that melted in the spring. When she was old enough, her mother explained that her life was far from normal, and shared stories of civilized women who wore gowns and drank from crystal glasses, teaching her their ways as she carved into rock and scribbled with chalk on the cave wall.
She hated the lessons, though they passed the long winter nights, for she did not understand why she had to learn their customs and strange language. But her mother insisted, warning her that one day, she might be forced to hide amongst them. Cahira preferred the ones that included tracking animals in the woods, learning how to build a fire that could withstand frigid nights, and which plants she could eat after a fruitless hunt and which plants were poisonous. Hunting was by far her favorite endeavor, but it came with the warning that although she ran with wolves, she must always keep a weapon on her, lest she one day be caught unaware. Her mother showed her how to construct a bow and arrow, practicing with her until she could hit her mark every time. Shooting felt natural, as if the bow was simply an extension of her arm.
“Never stray too far away from a water source,” her mother would say, “and if you are ever lost, stay still and listen for the crows. They always linger by wolves and will shriek when there is danger.”
Cahira believed her mother was a ghost because there were days she couldn’t feel her, even though she snuggled next to her under the furs. She looked like an otherworldly being, her face beautiful and fierce like she was carved out of stone, and she knew everything about the earth as if she was the one who created it. She loved her mother completely, even though she knew she wasn’t the one who birthed her. Cahira had nightmares about the woman who did. They revealed her birth mother was a witch who meant to eat her before her true mother saved her, killing the witch and escaping with her in the night. Each time the nightmares came, her mother sang her back to sleep with songs in another language, songs of another time.
Cahira lived happy and free for many years, until her hair reached her waist and buds appeared on her chest. Her mother waited until her blood came before she revealed it was time for the most important lesson of all.
“Today we are going to learn about men.”
It was daybreak, the wolves were snoring peacefully around them, still sated by their evening meal. The long winter had ended, and the woods swarmed with creatures, their chatter reverberating throughout the forest from the moment the sun peeked its head over the horizon. Her mother had already draped herself in furs, covering all but her forearms and calves. Underneath, she wore a plain tunic dress. She strapped knives to her thighs, securing her crossbow and arrows behind her.
“Men?” Cahira rose to follow suit.
“Yes, men. Do you remember what I told you about how civilized humans behave?”
“Of course. You said women like me are often married to men, who act as their husbands, providing them with money and giving them children. How could I forget such a dreadful notion?” Cahira shuddered at the memory.
“There are some men who are not monsters, who are kind and caring. But there are many men, civilized or not, who are dangerous.”
She snorted. “I am not afraid of anything.”
“Cahira,” her mother sighed. “No one is safe from death, not even the gods. A warrior does not only have to be strong, but she must be wise. She can never forget that one day, she will die.”
Not me, Cahira thought defiantly.
The air that greeted them was cool but not foreboding, sprouts burgeoning between the fallen leaves, signaling the end of winter. Cahira was glad. She’d grown tired of being covered in furs and wearing boots, longing to run naked and free. She wondered how much bigger her breasts would grow, and if they mirrored her mother’s, how tight she would have to bind them.
Her mother walked ahead, strangely absent of her usual vigor.
“What is wrong?”
Her mother paused. “Thinking of men has caused me to miss your grandfather.”
“You’ve never spoken of your parents before.”
Her mother looked surprised. “Oh no, not my parents. I mean your real grandfather.”
Cahira’s eyes widened. “You knew him?”
Her mother nodded as she continued to walk ahead. “Yes, but he has long since passed.”
Cahira ran to catch up to her.
Her mother continued, “He is one of the reasons I’ve chosen to protect and raise you, not only because I loved you instantly, but because I once loved him.”
Cahira reflected on her words. “So, you once fell in love with a man … and that’s your way of telling me not all men are bad.”
Her mother gave her a warm smile. “You never cease to amaze me with your intelligence, a leanbh. That was exactly what I was hoping you’d see.”
Cahira blushed, for her mother hadn’t used the term of endearment since she was a young girl.
“However,” her mother continued, “your grandfather was a cruel soul for many years before he changed his ways. Men might seem kind, but you can never forget what they are capable of. You must always be one step ahead of them—physically and intellectually.”
She nodded, alarmed by the severity in her mother’s eyes.
Suddenly, she heard the crack of twigs, signaling an animal nearby. They both froze, listening to the sounds the woods revealed. Cahira spotted the buck not far from where they stood, watching them with hesitant black eyes. She heard his breath, his heartbeat steadily rising with trepidation. She moved to slowly draw an arrow from her bag to set in her bow, but she heard her mother’s voice loud in her mind: No, we must hide and watch.
She ducked down beside her in the bushes just as she heard a loud crack, a sound so loud, it seemed to shake the entire forest. The buck fell to the ground, bright red blood sputtering from a hole that appeared in his side. It kicked up its feet in terror and protest, struggling as three humans approached it. They wore full linen shirts and pants, their cloaks lined with fur. They carried long metal objects with them, which Cahira recognized as muskets from her lessons. They laughed, one gleeful as he cried out in one of the languages her mother taught her, “I got him!”
They let the buck struggle in agony as they congratulated each other on the kill. Cahira was furious, not understanding why they couldn’t put the poor creature out of its misery. They seemed to gain pleasure from its pain. She hated men already. After what seemed like an eternity, the scrawny one sliced its throat, covering it with a tarp to carry back to their camp.
Her mother waited until they’d disappeared far enough into the trees before explaining, “Civilized men use guns to kill prey. Your bow is quicker and just as deadly, for you can draw and shoot yours before they’ve loaded their bullets. However, if you ever find yourself staring at the end of one of their guns, surrender until you can find another way.”
Cahira nodded, her insides still hot from witnessing the disrespect shown towards the majestic woodland creature.
“There’s more,” her mother sighed. “Follow me.”
They reached their camp, where a few other men had started a cooking fire. A caravan was parked nearby, several horses grazing in the nearby grass. A very large man with fat fingers dragged the deer through the dirt to the place he’d prepared to skin and eviscerate it for consumption.
Her mother gestured her into a heavy thicket which artfully concealed them from onlookers yet provided a full view of the men. Cahira could hear their pointless conversation, slurred, jumbled mutterings as they drank from metal cups, eagerly awaiting their meal. At least they are going to eat the poor beast, she thought dryly.
Her mother began to quietly remove her weapons, setting them in the grass beside her. She lifted off her fur cloak and loosened the ties of her hair. It fell like a waterfall down her back.
“What are you doing?” Cahira whispered.
Her mother knelt, taking her face into her hands so it was inches from hers, her eyes burning brightly. “Listen to me, Cahira, for I have never led you astray. You must stay here quietly while I approach these men as a woman lost in the woods. You must witness their reactions, allowing things to unfold as they may. This is simply another lesson that is important for you to learn. While there are good men in this world—wonderful, kind men—there are many who cannot handle what life has given them. These men choose to abuse women and children, those they are convinced are weak, so that they can feel powerful. To these men, a strong, capable woman is the biggest threat of all. Watch and learn, Cahira. Do not intervene, no matter how frightened you may become. I am strong enough to handle them.”
Her words produced an anxious nausea in Cahira’s stomach, but before she could protest, her mother kissed her firmly on the forehead and ducked out of their thicket.
She watched the men stumble to their feet as her mother approached them wearing fake tears. “Please help me,” she pleaded, in a high, shaking voice unlike her own. “I am so lost, and I cannot find my way back.”
“Well, you certainly can stay here with us,” said the larger man with a grin, grease dripping from his chin, gore from the buck still on his fingers.
Cahira did not know how long their interaction lasted, nor when she finally snapped—whether it was when one of them grabbed her mother by the waist or when the other laughed at her helpless cries—but it felt as if an otherworldly being had taken over her body, forcing it to act and move in accordance to its will. She felt nothing but the exhilaration that rage often brings, burning with energy as she stood, watching the carnage unfold in front of her. The bear proved unrelenting, tearing the flesh of the heavy man to ribbons, his blood and fat spilling onto the forest floor. The lynx, just as vicious, took the thin man’s arm as her prize. Their screams echoed throughout the woods, reverberating against the tall pines above who watched them, indifferent to their agonies. The stench of blood rose thick and metallic in the air.
She felt her mother whisk her away, running through the woods at an impossible speed, cradling her as if she was a young child again. The beat of her mother’s heart soothed her, pouring water on the flames that had taken her over. Cahira burst into tears before they reached the cave, their pack awaiting with visible agitation.
They fell onto the bed of furs. “Oh, forgive me, child, I had no idea.” Her mother gasped for breath. “I was not in danger, my sweet girl—I only wanted to show you something that cannot be taught in words.”
Cahira’s entire body trembled, too upset to reply.
Her mother pulled her onto her lap, stroking her hair as she hushed her, murmuring in her ear, “You are safe, my little warrior. We are safe here. Just breathe.” The wolves settled around them, watching them closely. “We will talk when the sun rises. Rest.”
Cahira suddenly felt very tired, the presence of her family soothing her with their warmth, quieting her tremors. She drifted off to her mother’s gentle singing and the snoring of beasts as they journeyed along with her into the land of slumber.
Surprisingly, the dreams that followed were not nightmares of human men, but something entirely different. Her eyes drifted open to see a creature standing before her, a creature so beautiful it appeared genderless, with golden curls and radiant silver eyes. Ivory wings sprouted from behind its back, its robes an iridescent white. It appeared to shimmer as it smiled down at her, filling the cave with unnatural light. Though amazed by its beauty, she noticed her pack no longer surrounded her, her mother also missing. A jolt of panic caused her to spring up, and she scrambled for the knife she kept beneath her sleeping furs.
“Do not be afraid, child,” the being told her, its voice high and melodious like the calls of songbirds. “I have only come to deliver you a message.”
“Me?” she said, confused. She decided the creature was a male, but he seemed kind, the antithesis of the human males she’d seen at the camp.
“You are a child with great power, power that has been lying dormant inside you. It is the reason why your mother protects you so fiercely. You are the last of an ancient lineage of gods and goddesses.”
“Where is my mother now?” Cahira asked worriedly.
“We stand now in a place between the worlds,” the being explained. “She is safe in the earthly realm, fast asleep beside you in your home.”
Cahira exhaled in relief. “What is your message?”
“There are realms beyond Earth, beyond this astral plane where we currently speak. They are the kingdoms of the gods, places where departed souls rest. You must warn the gods trapped on Earth in mortal form that they are being threatened.”
Cahira frowned. “I don’t understand. There are gods trapped on Earth as mortals? Why must I be the one to warn them? Why can’t you?”
The being looked sad. “These earthbound gods are hidden, protected by magic barriers I cannot push through. But you can.”
“But I don’t have any power,” she started to insist, but the memory of the slaughtered men surfaced as soon as the words left her lips. Although it was a brown bear and lynx who physically tore the wretched humans to bits, she knew deep down they were obeying her unconscious commands.
“My visit is only meant to be brief, and I cannot tell you everything I know,” the being said quickly. “Find the creature who goes by the name of David and warn him. We believe he lives in a place the humans call the Kingdom of France. Help him, before it is too late.” A look of fear suddenly crossed over his face. “I must go, child. Let all your journeys be safe and blessed.” With that, his form dissipated like dandelion seeds in the wind.
Cahira jolted awake. Her mother slept soundly next to her, just as the creature had promised. The cave was completely dark, their fire cold, wolves snoring soundly around her. That was when she heard it—a howl so deep and ferocious it seemed to shake the mountains, a sound no earthly creature could conjure. The hair along her arms and neck rose as the wolves that surrounded her leapt to their feet in alarm, heading towards the mouth of the cave, hackles raised. Her mother bolted upright, feeling for her daughter in the darkness.
“I am here,” Cahira said, surprised at how her voice shook. “What is that sound?”
The wolves growled, a fight breaking out at the entrance of their safehold. Cahira’s heartbeat climbed to her ears.
“Cahira, listen to me,” her mother said, as she felt her way through the shadows for weapons. “No matter what you hear, do not come out of this cave. I cannot turn into a wolf since I am still bound to you, but I will try to fight off this creature the best I can.”
“What do you mean? What is happening?”
The sounds of struggle soon devolved into the frightened yelps of a dying pack, accompanied by the horrible sounds of tearing flesh. Her heart raced, pulling tears from her eyes. “Please don’t go,” she begged her mother.
She scooped Cahira into her arms, giving her a firm kiss on her forehead. “Know that I love you and I will one day find you again. I promise.”
Cahira screamed, but her mother flew out of the cave, confronting the unearthly creature head on. She tried to follow, but the cave instantly filled with dozens of ravens, blocking her way forward. She screeched with frustration, batting at their sleek bodies and tiny claws, but it was of no avail—apparently her mother had the ability to command all beasts, not just wolves.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the birds fell away, just in time for her to witness her mother taking her last breath. The vision of her mother’s broken and bloodied body stirred the tempest inside of her once again, though this time, she remained conscious as her body shook and filled with energy that was not hers. She saw the creature ahead, a grotesque exaggeration of a wolf with snarling lips and fangs that dripped with the blood of her fallen pack—her mother’s blood. Its fur was silver, its eyes as black as its terrorizing claws.
It advanced towards her but hesitated, alarmed by the way the Earth began to tremble. The woods filled with an awful, high pitched screech as tree roots popped out of the dirt like snakes.
Cahira stared coldly at the wolf as the trees obeyed her, slamming down around him so he could not escape, twisting their roots around his arms and legs. He howled in fury as he was lifted and immobilized, splayed out in front of her like a helpless animal about to be slaughtered.
A voice whispered in her ear, a woman who sounded like her mother but much older. “Make him your protector. Carve the runes in his chest and he will submit to you eternally.”
Cahira pulled her knife from her thigh and walked up to the frantic wolf. Every part of her conscious mind wanted to slice its throat, but the power humming in her blood instructed otherwise. She dug the knife in its chest as it roared, spraying her with the blood from its jowls. She took her time despite his howling protestations, calmly carving symbols she had never learned into his flesh, ones that seemed distantly familiar. An arrow pointed upwards, tiwaz, meaning justice. Another like the end of the arrow, pointed down, algiz, protection.
The wolf quieted in gradual submission as she stood back to admire the jagged symbols pouring blood onto the earth, darkening its silver fur with crimson. Words sprang from her lips, a language she did not recognize, “By the powers of the gods, the ancient ones, whose blood runs in my veins, you belong to me now, creature, until your last dying breath.”
The power that rushed out of her knocked her to the ground with its intensity. She jumped back on her feet as she gasped for breath, her mind attempting to comprehend what had just occurred. She saw the bodies of her wolf clan lying dead around her and thought of her mother’s last breath. She apprehended the creature before her, who now stared back at her with sad, submissive eyes. She blinked, realizing there was a human inside.
David
English Countryside, 1857
“The direwolf protected me throughout my journey,” Cahira said, “even after I freed the man trapped inside him, restoring him to his former self. He watched over me after that for many years. Incredible as it seems, I eventually forgave him when I realized the wolf and the man were separate parts, and that he was not in control of the beast who tore my pack apart.” She grew quiet, staring into the fire.
David had clasped his hands in front of him, staring between her and her wolf, whose eyes hadn’t left him the entire evening. He felt daybreak crawling closer, and did not wish to be thrown into it, but he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Cahira, I must tell you something that I am afraid you may not want to hear.”
Cahira turned towards him, lifting a single eyebrow in a way that reminded him of Morrigan.
He swallowed. “I know Dan, the direwolf you speak of. He found me several days ago and he’s still at my home. We have a history together.”
“He is here? In London?” she sputtered. “How can that be?” She leapt up from where she had been sitting, causing her wolf to rise to its feet.
David watched it carefully from the corner of his eye. “I wish I could tell you more, but his reappearance in my life was just as surprising to me. He was hunting a dark god named Lucius, believing he was the cause of these events, but Lucius appeared at my doorstep as well, pleading his innocence.”
Cahira’s expression remained mystified as she slumped back into her seat. “And you believe him?”
David sighed, resting his head in his hands for a moment, running his fingers through his hair. “I do not know what to believe,” he admitted as he looked up. “We had just begun to unlock the memories of a reincarnated goddess in the hope she would uncover the truth, but I left before the task could be completed.”
“Why?”
David sighed again, closing his eyes. “Because she broke my heart.”
Cahira snorted rudely. “How very human of you.”
He gave her a sad smile. “Human weakness has plagued me for many, many years.”
She rose from her chair and pulled open the door. Squalls of wind pummeled through it, sending the hanging herbs into disarray. She lifted her hand up and instantly, it stopped.
David’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did you do that?”
She shut the door firmly before turning towards him. “Your blood gave me some of your power. Magic is passed through energy exchange, whether it was the way the original heka transferred through the trees, or in the way it is passed through the vital essence of a living being. Love is the same sort of energy, and to love another means to give them your power, rendering you weak. There is nothing remarkable about love, nor sex for that matter. It is the most efficient way to siphon energy out of a being and rob them of their power.”
David found himself at a loss for words.
Cahira chuckled, resuming her seat. “Here I thought you would be the one teaching me. Tell me, did you love only this woman or were there others before her?”
David frowned. “It was not the same.”
She laughed again, the sound crackling like the nearby fire. “Did she ever love another?”
David looked down at the ground, craving the hazy euphoric cave he’d just crawled out of. He took a deep breath. “I did not think so, until I heard her memories. We existed long before this time, and I fell in love with her while she was married to my brother. Their marriage had been forced, as was mine, and she convinced me she had never loved him. Not like she loved me, anyway. She left him, and we went on to live together for many years. Yet during our most recent separation, they have seemed to have found each other again… found their love again.”
Cahira did not laugh this time, sympathy softening her eyes. “See,” she said gently. “She weakened you.”
“She wasn’t the first to do so either,” David mumbled, searching his pockets for a cigarette. “Do you have anything to drink?” he asked.
Cahira went to her cupboards, retrieving an aged bottle. “Homemade wine, a gift from a friend. I can add blood to it, if you’d like.”
David nodded gratefully. He noticed her pet wolf had finally decided he was not a threat and succumbed to snoring by the fire. He found half a smoke in the crease of his front shirt pocket. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” she said over her shoulder as she prepared his drink.
David leaned into the fire to light it, settling back down in his seat. “Dan told us about the time you spent together,” he told her. “He never explained how you both ended up separated, but the way he spoke of you revealed how much he loved you.”
Cahira set the bottle down a bit harder than necessary. “No. He was my companion because I forced it to be, not because he cared. And even so,” she growled as she retrieved another bottle, dripping the coagulated liquid into a glass, “I made a vow never to lie with a man, let alone love one. I am not the type of woman that does well with settling down.” She swirled the blood and wine together before handing him the concoction. “Dan knows this.”
“Perhaps you have the right idea,” David admitted. He took a long swallow, ignoring the bite in his stomach.
Cahira sighed, leaning up against her desk and crossing her arms. “I came to this city to kill daemons and to enlighten the living gods to the dire situation they are in. A total of three of such gods are currently in your home, but neither of us want to go there.”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Then let us sleep on it. I’m sure you could use true rest after your intoxicated sabbatical, and I could use it myself. As you may have guessed, I am not nocturnal by nature. Unfortunately, all I can offer you is the couch.”
David finished his drink. “I have gotten some of my best rest in ancient crypts. A couch will be just fine.”
“Keep the fire going if you’d like, there is plenty of wood. Dan always preferred it cold, but I thought it was because his blood ran so hot. I’ve since learned that other vampires prefer it as well.” She clicked her tongue at her wolf, who rose to join her as she headed to her room. “Rest easy, Dragon Slayer. We have plenty of dreadful emotions to face in the near future.”