11

Gabriel shuffled closer to the fire for warmth, outside the cave, winds began to whistle along the tunnels. The kids sat a fair distance from him but he encouraged them closer. All but the young female vampire had to be feeling the cold. “So, who has the first question?”

“Me. How’d you get double-dead?” snarked the Scarsdale kid.

“Not cool.” Gabriel growled and he stared the delinquent down until all his minions’ chuckling silenced.

The sheriff’s daughter squared her shoulders and all eyes turned to her. “All right, how about this. I know that vampires, well most vampires, are made and not born, so how did you get turned?”

Made, not born. The concept baffled him and he decided to turn the tables. “Tell me about that born thing. How many born vampires are there in town?”

She proudly pushed back her thick, luxurious dark hair. “Three, and my mom’s about to give birth to the fourth.”

What the hell was up with that? His mind clogged, stifling the next question. Not so wise to be asking teenagers about sex and conception, but he had a plan. He pointed to Megan and bad boy Ben Scarsdale. “You two, you’re not doing it, are you?” he spoke with a curled brow, careful to sound like a disapproving parent. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer because at their age, he sure as hell was doing it.

“Yeah, we are,” spouted the boy.

But Megan was either smarter than him or telling the truth when she smacked his arm hard and shouted, “No, we’re not!”

“Good, good,” he said, hiding a grin. Ah, youth, but at least he caught the gist of how vampire conception might work – just like every other kind of conception on God’s green earth – but was this a matter of mixing blood? Was Megan both vampire and shifter? Nope, his nose said otherwise. Pure vampire through and through. This was getting more curious by the moment.

“Well, we haven’t done it … yet,” she snuggled close to Ben and the shifter defiantly planted a kiss on her lips, his eyes never leaving Gabriel.

“Yeah, and I bet your dad’s thrilled about that too, Miss d’Longville.”

Again, all went quiet and Scarsdale actually pulled a few inches away from his squeeze. The wind outside intensified and played with the fire, making it leap and spit sparks. Strange sounds hummed and whistled from deeper in the cave and a howling hiss slithered in at them along with a few icy snowflakes. One of the shifters stood and headed toward the opening along the twisted cave.

“Where are you going?” Gabe shouted.

“To check on the storm,” came the civil response and when the boy returned, he looked more than a little concerned. “Hoh man, we’re so not getting to school this morning.”

“No! I gotta get back or my dad’s going to fucking chain me to the porch!” another shifter responded and they all scrambled to race out.

“Stop!” Gabriel shouted and his voice vibrated along the stone walls. “Sit!” he yelled and the kids did as they were told. He followed the winding cavern until turning the final bend and seeing what all the fuss was about. Blasts of wind exploded with horizontal snow, forcing him to hold on to the rock at the cave’s opening. Tiny ice shards glittered in the blackness, slapped into his face and pushed him back to the warmth and safety of the fire. “Nope, no one’s going anywhere in that,” he announced. “Sit tight until it passes.” Again, to his surprise, they obeyed. What choice did they have?

The howling intensified, a terrifying sound that shook the kids to the bone. Gabriel added a log to the fire and stoked it. “What are you all doing so far from town, anyway?”

“We come out here every night. No parents, no chores,” Megan said and shrugged. “No curfew.”

“How do you stay awake in school?” He didn’t really care, his goal was to keep them talking and calm.

“Most of us sleep during third period. Works out fine.”

“What’s third period?”

“Social Studies,” chuckled one of the shifters. “Who needs social studies when we’re trapped here in the middle of nowhere?”

“And besides, what’s going on in the rest of the world never affects us anyway, we don’t care what the teacher says,” added Megan. “Answer my question, Mr. Strickland. How did you become a vampire?”

The violent storm continued, the twists and turns of the tunnel were no longer able to hold back the cold wind and occasional gusts of snow, even at that protected depth inside the mountain. The kids had all moved closer to him, Megan right at his side, and he started telling a story he’d tried hard to forget over the past eighty years.

“It was 1933. Do you remember your history?”

“Yeah, the Depression,” Megan answered.

“Yeah, the Depression. No one had anything, we were all poor as dirt. Before it really got bad, I lived on a farm in Indiana and I really, really hated farming. It’s was the mid 1920s and already life was tough for farmers. I was twenty when I left, convincing my old man that I’d send money home from Chicago. I was so damn sure I’d find work. Guess what?”

“No work?” asked one of the shifters.

“Very little. The coming Depression was starting to affect the poor people living in the cities. I found some work, here and there. Stood in line and hoped for the chance at a day’s pay. Ate at a lot of soup kitchens. But man, the big city seemed like magic after farming. Then one day I got a message that my sister, Marilyn,” and the mere mention of her name twisted his aching heart. He paused a moment, then continued. “Marilyn died of consumption and my mom was sick with it. Dad needed me back at the farm. Took me a while to hitchhike and walk all the way from Chicago to the farm.”

“Why didn’t you just run back?” Megan asked.

“I was human, little girl. Everything’s harder and takes longer as a human. Anyway, when I got back, mom too had passed, so that left me with the old man, a farm that could barely support us and soil that had gone dead and parched. Dad and me, we didn’t get along so good, so mostly I ignored him and did what he wanted, plowed useless land, milked cows that were almost as dry as the fields and … well waited for something good to happen.”

The wind again picked up and it seemed they were all huddling against him. He didn’t make a fuss about it, he knew they were afraid of the storm and of what they’d be facing when they got back home.

“Years passed,” he continued. “The old man got older, weaker and I think he went a little mad. I was just waiting for him to die I suppose, ’cause then I could sell the godforsaken farm and move away. One morning I went to the barn and there he was, my idiot dad … he hung himself from the rafters. The old bastard checked out and left the place to me.”

“Did you sell it? Move back to Chicago?” Megan appeared transfixed by his story.

“I tried, but nobody wanted the place. Who could afford it? I was thirty-three and thinking I’d just walk away. I packed a bag and decided to give our last living cow to a neighbor. Why I chose to leave at sunset, I’ll never know. Stupid, really. Maybe I figured if I left under darkness no one would notice, you know. I went into the barn and reached for the cow and … well … that’s when a vampire attacked.”

“Oh my God!” gasped Megan and all the shifter boys watched wide eyed with mouths agape. “Were you afraid?”

Gabriel wondered, didn’t vampires attack in Maxtla? Why did it all seem so new to her? He was suddenly more than curious about the town and how it existed. For now, he’d deal with the moment and his captive audience. “Yes.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Sure it hurt, but the worst part was after he turned me I freaked out and kinda … well … killed him. So there was no one to teach me how to survive.”

“But you figured it out, right?” Ben Scarsdale leaned closer to the fire, his illuminated face showing tired bags under his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Did you stick around the farm?”

“Nope, headed for Chicago, then another city, and another and another.” His voice trailed off.

“Wow, I bet you’re thrilled to be around vampires again,” grunted another shifter boy as he haphazardly tossed another log onto the fire.

“Nope. Never liked vampires. Never hung around them.”

The fire blazed and heated them all. Several of the boys yawned and curled up, many were already fighting to keep their eyes open and within moments, everyone but Gabriel and Megan were sound asleep.

The wind became stronger, fell back then intensified again, creating ominous shrieks, wails, and groans that sounded threatening and almost alive. The cave seemed to breathe in and out and something in the agitated atmosphere vibrated under Gabriel’s flesh. He’d known that sensation while living as vampire. The static electricity that traveled with violent storms had the ability to confuse and disorient him so severely that he would take to hiding and holding himself in check. Otherwise, he’d have sucked the blood from any living thing within reach until it was dry as a bone. Was Megan feeling the same thing? Or was she mutated enough to feel something different? Maybe he should consider that the young girl snuggled against him could be more dangerous than the storm outside. Maybe not.

Her lovely face and sparkling hazel eyes looked up at him. “I’m scared,” she whispered and he put an arm around her.

“Just a storm, kiddo.”

“My dad’s gonna kill me.”

“Possibly.” He teased and she snuggled closer.

“You’re not such a bad guy, Mr. Strickland.”

“Yeah? Maybe you can tell my girlfriend when we get back.”

Now they were all sound asleep, even the pretty vampire and he wondered if it must be third period back in the Maxtla High School.

Charlie, finally well fed and content, snuggled under the sheets and fell asleep. Martin had choices. He could nap at the boy’s side, which his tired body desperately wanted, he could go home, or he could face the problem across the hall.

Maxtla’s little clinic was more like a hospital than a simple small-town medical facility. There were eight private patient rooms, a surgery, a pharmacy and small but well equipped lab. Everything was designed to serve human, shifter and vampire needs and the medical personnel were well trained. The staff boasted no vampire physicians as the risk, especially during the annual darkness, was too great, but three of the shifter physicians had studied in Amsterdam, bringing back techniques and skills tailor-made for the ailing, suffering or healing vampire.

He stood with a quiet groan and crossed the hall, entered the room and silently closed the door. There, on the bed lay a woman he recalled with intense feelings. Looking upon her face, he remembered a moment more than a thousand years ago in the mist-filled wood far from his responsibilities. He was a young man and she, a fair maiden begging to learn at his knee. So beautiful, so tender and so inviting, she offered more than her mind to him and he, permitting himself the pure human pleasures only a woman can bring, took her offer. It was a blessed, enchanting romp worthy of elegant love ballads and the ruin of chaste men and women – but every moment since, he questioned the wisdom that led him to it. With that singular carnal connection, he unwillingly gave her the power of longevity, otherwise he’d not be facing her that dark morning. Betrayal was in that woman’s DNA, and her voracious hunger for the craft was destined to cause destruction.

He moved without touching the floor, closer and closer to the bed then looked down at her. He could kill her easily, use his magic to stop her weak heart and end the threat she presented, but there was time to select her penalty. First, he’d hear what she had to say.

Her eyes opened and focused. A smile bloomed on her face, tender and sweet, just as he recalled from so long ago, but that smile no longer had power over him.

“Merlin,” she whispered.

“I am called Martin.” He scowled.

Disappointment painted her expression and she struggled to reach the button to bring her bed up so she could sit. He did not assist. “I have missed you, longed for you, to see your face, my Master.”

Nice words but they held no weight. “What have you done?” he demanded with a hiss.

“Merlin –”

“Martin,” he corrected without gentleness.

“I have need of your help.”

“It’s a heart attack, something mere humans suffer all the time.” He turned to leave, but only for effect.

“Wait! Please.”

He returned to her bedside and did just that. Waited. Watching her shifting expressions perform everything hidden in her devious head and heart, it was almost laughable and he knew he was facing a fallen power, pure and simple. Such a thing can not be helped, even if he cared to try.

Finally she spoke. “I have loved you forever, Master. I will never know why you shunned me, sent me away.”

“I sent you to the New World, it was a gift! An opportunity to become your own master and look what you’ve become.”

“You deserted me, but I have taken your gift, developed all your teachings and expanded them. Every century I came to the gathering. I excelled and moved up in the ranks. I have only done these things out of respect and love for you. I have only wished for you to be proud of your student. But every gathering, every time I hoped beyond hope to see your face, you would not be available to me. What have I done to gain your displeasure?”

“You know well what you’ve done.” His voice was raspy from exhaustion and the need to keep his volume low. Yes, the darkness affected him too, and most unpleasantly.

Neave blinked, again displaying her deepest sentiments. “Master, are you angry about my marriage?”

“To a human? Of course not. You had become so human over time it was no surprise to me.”

“Yes, I married a pure human, but you had left me. I was so alone and in need of connection. Surely you understand the heart.”

“Ah, yes, the heart. I know the heart … and I know yours. You married a human, got what you wanted then ended him.”

She sat ramrod straight and glared. “He stepped in front of a bus!”

“Am I to believe you had nothing to do with that unfortunate accident? And what of your daughter? Did you end her as well? After all, what you wished came from her womb and not yours … a male child born with inbred skills you could manipulate.” He silenced, watching sudden tears well in her eyes.

“My beloved daughter died of cancer.”

He paused, blinked, then chose to move on. This woman had the power to defer the issues and there’d be none of that.

“And then … there was your sterling grandson, Nathan. Born out of wedlock and saddled with your name and nature. As I understand it, his story lends great credence to the theory of learned behavior.”

Neave actually swung her legs to the side of the bed and stood on wobbly knees. “My grandson was my failure, I accept that and I have paid dearly. For twenty years he held me prisoner on the third plane. But,” she weakly sat at the edge of the mattress and looked up at him like the innocent she once was. “While I was trapped, I was able to do something good. Did you receive my gift?”

Martin stood still as stone, showing no curiosity or awareness of any such gift.

“When my grandson imprisoned me in that empty world of the mind, he did not cast the spell correctly. As you know, the servo loginquitas spell is very complex and he was, shall we say … not much of a detail man. Master, I traveled within that alternative plane and I made an amazing discovery. I found an amazing curiosity and arranged for it to be delivered into your care.”

He blinked.

“The seventh of the seventh of the seventh generation. I found him in Wales and managed to convince one of the local Fae to bring him to your doorstep.”

“How? How could you …”

“Travel within the third dimension? Master, I have learned much. Tapped into powers I never imagined possible. It’s all in my book of spells!” But her brilliant, prideful smile suddenly dropped as did her eyes, a demure yet extremely telling expression.

“Where is this book of spells?”

“Master, it is lost. Stolen and misplaced by my grandson and I’ve come to you, my mentor, to help me find it.”

“Your book of spells is lost?” He actually laughed. “Again, this news does not surprise me. How could you allow such a thing to happen?”

“I was trapped.”

“Indeed. And you should have remained trapped.” But already his mind had locked onto the dubious gift she had placed in his hands fifteen years earlier.

She too had apparently redirected her focus. “The infant … he was alone. His parents had died.”

“Another bus?”

Neave shrugged. “Surely it doesn’t matter. They could not have known how to manage when the time came. Only you are worthy of such a boy.”

Martin felt the sudden need to sit, but instead remained on his feet, determined to show no weakness in her presence. The seventh of the seventh of the seventh generation. Could it possibly be true?

“And your boy, I hear he is well after his … illness. You must have been beside yourself with concern, but he is only readying for what is to come. Merlin, please understand. I wanted nothing more than to care for this child myself, but I was … detained elsewhere. Unable. Who is more capable than me to deal with this child? Only you, Master.”

He clenched his fists and growled. “I will kill you for bringing this and the others to this place.”

“No,” she grinned smugly. “You don’t kill.”

“Ah, but you do. What of the humans on that fated airplane?”

“They had to die. Surely you wouldn’t have wanted them here in Maxtla.”

His hand shot forward and gripped her throat. “You killed the humans but brought the others here with you.”

“It couldn’t be helped,” she squeaked and he roughly released her. “The Soul Eater is here for my protection. The others, well, they just won’t … die.”

“The Soul Eater is no match for me, woman.”

Her brows rose and he chuckled.

“I too have learned much since we parted.”

They stared at each other in silence, a stand off that was sure to come one day. He could kill her. He should. Her eyes seemed wild and desperate and she finally spoke.

“Merlin, I love you so much. Please love me again. I have never stopped loving you and I did this to show you how much. We will be invincible together. I am so thrilled and honored to be here during the boy’s change. Just think of the command we can wield together with that child at our side. This town will bow to you. The whole world will know your mystic supremacy! You will be more powerful than you have ever been!”

“Power, woman, does not come from you or me! It comes from all beings, living, dead, double-dead and eternally dead! It comes from human and supernatural sources and no one, no matter the skills mastered or grand intentions, can change that!”

And at the arrogant expression she displayed, he did cast a spell. Oh how he wished it could have ended her life, but he chose quickly and wisely, probably for the first time ever where Neave was concerned. He whispered words slowly, repeatedly until she struggled in the bed to run from him but she was held immobile by her fear and the strength of his retribution. Again and again the words floated from his mouth. The spell sent a streaming ribbon of blue mist that danced on the words and swirled around her, tying her, binding her, locking her forever. Finally, it was done.

Neave looked around frantically and screamed a wail worthy of a mourning mother. The nurse burst into the room just as the old woman’s second scream blasted.

Neave slapped at the nurse’s hands when she reached to comfort her. “Where am I? Who are you? Oh God! Where am I?”

“What happened?” The shifter nurse struggled and Martin tried to help restrain the crazed patient.

“I have no idea. I stepped in to pay my respects and see how she was feeling and she just … well … you can see.” A wild fist caught his nose, bloodying it and Martin figured he probably deserved that. The battle was fast and furious and Martin was soon out of breath, but together with the nurse and attending doctor, they managed to hold the patient down while a strong sedative was administered.

Watching Neave mellow and drift into unconsciousness, Martin felt the pangs of regret. Regret for speaking a curse that still burned his mouth and regret for ever meeting the wench.

“What the hell?” the doctor finally said as he checked Neave’s pulse.

“She seemed terrified, lost. I’ve never seen anything like it. Could she have lost her memory?” Martin carefully suggested.

“Damn. We just got this woman stable and now this. We’ll need to ship her to Barrow General Hospital the minute this damn storm passes. How’s your nose?”

Martin touched it, one nostril stuffed with bloodied cotton, and winced. “It’ll be fine. Can I take Charlie home? I’d rather we be there together, than have to trudge across town in a blizzard to see him.”

The doctor sighed. “Sure, why not. Call if the fever returns and we’ll be right there. In the meantime, a bag of frozen peas on that nose will help with the swelling.”

Martin left to collect his son, wondering if he even had frozen peas in the house. Thinking of frozen vegetables was certainly easier than thinking about what he now knew – or worrying that Neave Britannia Cook might have the ability to escape the hideous astral plane where he’d sent her memory and evil nature. Some who’ve been there and released have called it hell, he preferred to call it the perfect prison for the most wicked.