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“Hey lightning bug!” Gregory taunts as Jackson and I arrive in the kitchen. The room erupts in laughter as Vonnie, Mark, Khalil, Dilano and Alana all add to Gregory’s teasing.
“I don’t see what’s so funny!” Brae shouts from between their huddle at the kitchen island. “I could’ve really been hurt or worse!”
“I am so sorry Braelyn! Really, I am! I’m trying to get a handle on this whole Altrinion thing,” I say rushing to her side, but she turns away from me with folded arms and pouted lips.
“Brae, baby, stop messing with Damina! You know she didn’t mean any harm!” Mark laughs, pushing Brae’s shoulder.
Brae turns around slowly, reshaping her pouty lips to a wide grin! “Okay, I just had to mess with you! You should have seen your face! I mean, you got all formal with me, calling me Braelyn like Big D and everything! I should’ve kept it going!” Brae cackles as she brings me in for a hug.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I question, searching her face.
“Scout's honor!” Brae answers, holding two crossed fingers in the air. “I’m fine Damina, I promise. I just needed to get a refill, and I was back to normal!”
“A refill?” I question, perplexed.
“You know my smoothie bottle,” Brae says with air quotes.
“Not at the kitchen counter, baby. We’re eating here,” Mark says with his nose scrunched as the others mirror his sentiment.
“Okay, I know I’m the only Scourge at the table but—”
“You’re not a Scourge, baby,” Mark counters, resting his hand on Brae’s shoulder.
“Fine—the only vampire then—but the point is still the same! I think everyone here knows I drink blood! How else am I supposed to heal?”
“Okay, that’s it!” Gregory shrieks, backing away from the island. “I’ve officially lost my appetite!”
“Oh please Gregory, like you wolves don’t hunt and eat your fill of whatever crosses your path!” Brae shouts back across the island.
“That may be, but at least I’m in full form at the time. I can neither deny nor confirm those claims! I am no monster!” Gregory adds with his hands raised in protest.
“It’s quite all right, Braelyn. We’re all monsters in somebody’s story,” Dalcour interjects as he strolls through the kitchen coolly, with one hand in his grey trousers and his eyes locked with mine. “Besides, some folk can never truly appreciate what we have to do in the shadows in order to maintain some semblance of normalcy,” Dalcour adds, narrowing his eyes, piercing deeper into my own. He wraps his free arm around Brae and feigns a smile, but his growing spite toward me is hard to miss.
He’s still blocking himself from me and I refuse to get another migraine trying to rattle through his mind today. I am not in the mood for his games. A small part of me wishes it was him, not Brae, who felt the brunt of my heat this morning.
“So, did you all leave any food for us?” Jackson questions, breaking through the awkward silence forming in the kitchen amid the intense stare-off between Dalcour and me.
“I sure hope so, because I am starved!” I hear a loud familiar voice call from the adjacent great room.
“Brian! Man am I glad to see you!” Mark shouts as he rushes to Brian for a pounding fist bump and tackling embrace. Dilano mirrors Mark’s sentiment and Alana remains close behind.
“It’s good to see you, Brian!” Dilano adds with a hard pat to Brian’s back.
“I can honestly say for once it is good to be seen. I’ve missed you all!” Brian says with a wide smile. Looking at him, I see he has changed. His hair is longer, sporting a five o’clock shadow, and gone is his typical dark suit and tie. There’s an unexpected ruggedness to Brian that pushes aside the demure demeanor I had grown accustomed to in such a short time.
Brian gazes through the mini mob of friends and locks eyes with me. “My is it good to see you awake and about, Ms. Nicaud,” Brian adds as he pushes through everyone toward me.
Throwing his hulking arms around me and lifting me from the ground, his greeting surprises me. Although he’s sweaty, the familiar nutty and spicy scent exuding through his pores is calming.
“I’m glad to see you too, Brian!” I shout over his shoulders. His hold on me is firm, and I know he’s genuinely happy to see me. As he lowers me back to the floor, a warm smile crosses his face and his sky-blue eyes stare back at me with the same gentleness I’ve seen since the first day we met.
“So when did you get back, B?” Mark questions.
“As soon as Lord Marchand told me she was awake, I made my way here. I ran through more Skull in one night than I’ve seen in my lifetime as I made my way back from Natchez,” Brian replies.
“Wow, Brian. You made it all the way to Mississippi?” Brae asks.
“Sure did,” Brian answers in a flat tone and I notice he and Jackson share awkward glances.
“Mississippi? You went across state lines, Brian?” Jackson’s dark tone is marred in rebuke.
“Yes and I’ll cross whatever lines and territories I must to find her!” Brian snaps back.
“Yeah and why do you think you perhaps ran into Skull herds? You know those ancient tribal grounds are breeding grounds for herds. Herds, you idiot—not packs!” Gregory shouts between Brian and Jackson.
“Idiot?” Brian seethes, his eyes glowing bright like a flame.
“Both of you stop it!” I yell, posturing myself in front of Brian.
“At least tell me you knew about this?” Jackson asks, turning his attention to Mark.
“Well, I—”
“Well, nothing! Spit it out, little wolf!” Gregory barks. “Did you know or not?”
“Watch your mouth mutt!” Dalcour roars at Gregory. “You’re in my house! And you will show courtesy to those of my house. Brian only answers to Mark.”
“And Mark answers to me,” Jackson growls back, leaning into Gregory’s side, squaring his shoulders toward Dalcour. Turning his attention back to Mark, Jackson takes a deep breath, blowing the air through his nostrils. “Now, Mark, you are his alpha, but you know how den rules work. Crossing territories without permission is dangerous. If you are accepting of this behavior, that is your choice. But if not—”
“If not what, Jack?” I interrupt. “Did you not understand he’s looking for Dacari? Am I missing something here?”
“Damina, I understand that. More than anything I want to find your cousin, but there are rules. And these rules are in place for a reason. Mark hasn’t passed his alpha valuation yet. So as far as others in the wolf community are concerned, Brian is nothing more than a lone wolf. He could have been killed or worse! Other packs not aware of his intentions to find your cousin may have considered his arrival a threat. That’s why we have rules. The lone wolf mentality is not acceptable! If it were, we wouldn’t have Skull!” Jackson responds to me but keeps his eyes fixed on Brian and Mark.
“He’s right, Lady D,” Mark answers with his head low. “No, my lord, I was not aware of Brian’s location. I do ask that you charge it to me, not to him.”
Jackson stares at Mark and a crinkled smile swerves at the corners of his lips and he places his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “No charge needed this time, Mark. If nothing more, I know the intentions were pure,” Jackson adds while crossing his gaze toward Brian. “Gregory, please reach out to the den leaders in Mississippi and let them know the visit was approved by me. If their alpha has questions, send them my way.”
“Consider it done!” Gregory quickly answers, pulling his phone out of his pocket and walking out onto the patio.
“Would anyone care to know what led him to Natchez in the first place?” Dalcour exclaims, looking around the kitchen.
“I mean yeah, Jack. I understand rules are important and everything, but nothing is more important than finding Dacari,” I yell.
“Of course I want to know what he found there but if we don’t do things right Damina, we could be on the verge of setting things in motion that only compound our problems. That is the last thing we need,” Jackson replies.
“Well, perhaps Ms. Nicaud should hear it from me and then you can decide if it was worth it or not,” Brian answers.
“Please continue, Brian,” Dalcour replies, gesturing his palm for Brian to speak.
“After learning of Mikkel’s involvement with the Vitreous, I made my way to King’s Tavern,” Brian begins.
“You mean the place haunted by that ancient Altrinion-changeling hybrid Madeline! Are you crazy?” Brae scoffs, throwing her crossed arms over her head.
“You got it,” Brian replies over his shoulder. “Everyone knows anything hybrid or with too little supernaturality ends up either in Natchez or Biloxi. The epicenter of all rejects. And since it’s home to every supernatural cocktail that exists. I even came across a few Wolf-changelings.”
“I’ve never heard of such,” Jackson mutters to Mark.
Dalcour forcefully clears his throat, extending his palm once more.
“Well, knowing the Vitreous abhors all things of mixed race and such, I figured if any group was keeping a close watch on their movements, the rejects of Natchez and King’s Tavern would be the best place to start. And I’m glad I did. Rumor has it the Vitreous weren’t only after Damina—but the entire LeClaire line!”
“What!” Aunt Delia shouts from behind us as she and Dranoel walk into the kitchen. Dranoel smiles sheepishly at me as he slowly releases my aunt’s palm and tugs the hem of his shirt nervously. A part of me is happy to see my aunt with someone to care for her, but now isn’t the time for gushing.
“Yes, I’m afraid that’s what got Father McGloin killed that night at Saint Roch’s cemetery,” Dalcour adds, walking closer toward me, looking over my shoulder at Aunt Delia. A small smile rounds the corners of his raspberry lips as he notices the closeness of my aunt and Dranoel, and his gaze softens as he stares back at me. “It seems it was the good Father’s digging into your family’s history that alerted the Vitreous to release Scourge to exact their murderous intent.”
“But why the LeClaire line? Why my family?” Aunt Delia questions, coming to my side, looping her arm in mine.
“Because the LeClaire line is all that’s left of pure Altrinions who bear the fated mark,” Dalcour states.
“What about you?” I ask, hesitant as I see Jackson’s posture shift. I know hearing about me and Dalcour being fated to one another isn’t his topic of choice.
“Well yes, I do bear the mark, but I am also vampire, Damina. My fate cannot be activated without you,” Dalcour answers, his own hesitancy ringing true as his eyes drift between both me and Jackson.
“Darling, I think what Dalcour is trying to say is only a pure line Altrinion like a LeClaire is a threat to the Vitreous cause,” Aunt Delia adds.
“And so they want to exterminate us!” I gasp.
“But they will never get the chance!” Jackson protests, grasping my shoulders in his firm grip.
“They have already begun, I’m afraid,” Brian interjects in a grim tone, as he scratches his chin. Pausing long enough to get an approving wink from Dalcour to continue, Brian turns his attention squarely on me and Jackson. “Kill orders have been issued for any LeClaire within a three-hundred-mile radius. Word has it in Natchez there is one protected LeClaire; which I assume is you, Ms. Nicaud. Now they are after any of your kin and anyone associated with you—like Father McGloin.”
“But there’s one thing they didn’t know. You are not just a LeClaire. You are also Duacin,” Dalcour adds.
Aunt Delia paces the kitchen floor as both Brian and Dalcour talk. Turning to face me, she sighs heavily and pulls a counter stool from the kitchen island and sits down next to me. “The Duacin’s kept themselves hidden for centuries. While not vampires, they drank blood to keep others off their scent. But you, darling—you aren’t a blood drinker—you are the purest of all Altrinions,” Aunt Delia states with tear-filled eyes. “That is why we didn’t add your mother’s given name in marriage on her tombstone. That is why we buried her in the Peyroux crypt—a wolf’s resting place. We hoped no one would learn of her ancestry or find you!” Aunt Delia reveals.
“It’s likely the good Father McGloin came too close to the truth, and that’s why the Vitreous sent the Scourge at their employ to kill him!” Brae exclaims as dreadful memories of seeing his lifeless body and that of my hitch driver plague my mind.
“It’s all my fault!” I blow beneath my breath.
“No, baby. None of this is your fault!” Jackson protests, turning me around to meet his gaze. His eyes are glassy as they stare in my own. “This is all the Vitreous! Nothing else!”
“He’s right, Beautiful! There is no way you or Father McGloin could have known what the Vitreous were up to. Frankly, none of us knew. They’ve orchestrated all of this!” Dalcour shouts across the kitchen. Even though I cannot read his mind, I know his barking tone is intentional. While I’m sure the actions of the Vitreous are to blame, the deliberate way his words cut through the forming pull between Jackson and me is hard to miss.
“What does any of this have to do with Dacari, B?” Mark asks. “I mean what happened to the priest is bad and all, but did you find anything on where she and Decaux might be?”
“Well that is the other reason I went to Natchez. Knowing Decaux is a lover of all the usual rejects, I also figured he may have shown his face at some point. You know many of the mixed-supernaturals consider him a champion of sorts,” Brian responds as he pours water into a glass and hands it to Aunt Delia. I see her hands shaking as she holds them folded on the island and I am thankful despite everything going on, Brian is just as attentive as always. “Anyway, while no one had seen Dacari, it had been rumored Decaux had finally found the only supernatural being capable of the Canticum Incantationum.”
“No!” Dalcour shouts as blood leaves his face, turning his complexion ghastly.
“What, Dal?” I question as watch both fear and terror fill Dalcour’s eyes. His mouth remains open, and he continues staring straight through Brian, unable to respond.
“Will someone tell us what a Canticum Incantationum is?” Brae yelps.
“It is Latin,” Jackson begins, his voice flat and dark. “In English it means song of enchantment. Some say the words spoken during the Canticum are the very words spoken when the supernatural world was formed. Since the beginning of time, the ancient language has remained hidden. No one supernatural can utter the words unless they carry the essence of every earth bound supernatural in their being,” Jackson answers, gazing back at Brian in a disturbingly somber tone.
“I don’t get it, B? What does that have to do with Dacari?” Mark asks.
Aunt Delia stands up and away from the kitchen island, locking her posture into a stiff formation. She keeps her eyes fixed on Dalcour, but offers an almost muted response to Mark, “It’s not what it has to do with Dacari—it is about Dacari.”
“What do you mean, Aunt Delia?”
“I can’t believe it hadn’t crossed my mind before!” Dalcour yells, striking the adjacent wall with his fist.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on here?” I shout back.
“Damina, your cousin isn’t just an Altrinion-Wolf hybrid like your aunt. She is a tribrid! Altrinion. Wolf. Vampire. The only one I’ve ever heard of! Of all the earthbound supernaturals, she alone has the power to fully utter the song of enchantment—the power of supernatural creation!” Jackson explains.
Aunt Delia’s knees buckle at Dalcour’s claim and she begins to keel over. Thankfully, Dranoel is immediately at her side and takes her in his arms, holding her firmly against his chest.
“She’s what my wretched brother has always wanted! For as long as I can remember, Decaux has wanted to create a supernatural race of his own—one he could bend to his own will!” Dalcour states.
“Exactly! That is why he spends so much time in Natchez. For decades he’s made it his home. Some say he’s responsible for the coupling of the species—earthbound or otherwise,” Brian says.
“What do you mean—earthbound or otherwise?” I question.
“He means like me,” Vonnie interjects. “I am a Bulwark. I am not earthbound. We are here as messengers, helpers—protectors of the boundary lines, if you will. Other non-earthbound supernaturals are Changelings. They were the first of our kind, but they are void of form. Changelings must have a mortal or supernatural host to inhabit.”
“Vonnie is correct,” Dalcour begins. “And if Brian saw Wolf-Changelings in Natchez, that only means my brother has been long at work in coupling the species.”
“Why would he want to do that? And is that really a problem?” I reply.
“Well, on the surface it’s not a problem. But my brother’s only goal is subjugation. Having a world of supernaturals indebted to Decaux only fuels his delusions of superiority. Unlike the Vitreous who only want Altrinion-Vampires to rule in the likeness of Nuhtlus, Decaux desires humans to submit to a world of supernaturals with himself at the helm!” Dalcour explains.
“The worst part is if he can convince Dacari to utter the song of enchantment, she could make not only the power of the Great Oak ineffectual but also bring an end to the power of the eldership of supernaturals once and for all.” Jackson says.
Once more, the bastard frog suffocates me, and I am unable to speak. Thoughts of Dacari playing marionette to Decaux sickens me to my core. If that wasn’t enough, watching my aunt sob on Dranoel’s chest burns a hole through my continually aching heart. I want to console her, but my feet are cemented to the floor.
Just as I part my mouth to speak, Gregory shouts from outside and I know whatever is coming next will haunt me more than any nightmare.