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I am still breathless.
Here I stand under the pergola in the backyard of the mansion, at the entrance of the maze garden with my repose as stone and still as the statues Mark and I placed here in the labyrinth.
The sentiment of Jackson’s heart and his declaration to me lovingly haunts my thoughts as I stand here before a large body of supernaturals. Both the weight of his words and the intentions of his heart hold me captive to the memories of our life together and the possibility of our future.
Looking out at the crowd of wolves, vampires, Altrinions and otherwise, the truth by which Jackson spoke is plain to see. Had he not kept his supernaturality, and all that comes with it hidden from me, I have no doubt I would not stand here as I do now. I am still well aware I am only here as a result of his, albeit noble, deception; and the trickery of Keiron.
I would have never come to New Orleans.
I would have never met Jerrica at Saint Roch’s.
Ultimately, I would have never met Dalcour. Or any of these who surround me in the mansion backyard.
Now, to know Jackson is more than willing to give it all up for the life we had planned pins me in place.
What do I say to that? How do I respond?
Thankfully, my aunt’s interruption gave me no time to ponder his proclamation or give any response. Once news of Mark’s valuation spread throughout the estate, Aunt Delia snatched me from Jackson’s longing stare. With Vonnie’s help, my aunt sprung into her usual recourse; fussing over me as if I were a doll in preparation of Mark’s valuation. This time, however, my heart was so entwined with thoughts of both Jackson and Dalcour, I did not have it in me to protest.
In no time I found myself arrayed in a glittering golden Georgette gown with Grandma Roux’s emerald clamp tucking my hair to one side. I had no idea an alpha valuation was a formal affair. However, when I spied Jackson’s Aunt Sophie coming into the mansion as my aunt rushed me to my suite, I should have known better.
Every movie or folklore I’ve ever known about wolves was wrong. Always described as the rugged, scruffy, nature bound, tree-huggers of the supernatural world, I now see just how wrong those assertions are. Mark may have been the more relaxed of his kin, at least when we first met. But now, even he is more demure and polished. So much so that he’s rubbing off on Brae.
I hardly recognize the goth vamp girl I came to know and love.
As she stands proudly at Mark’s side with her lovely auburn curls upswept, adorned in a shimmering lilac gown, she seamlessly mirrors her gallant betrothed. With her arms looped through Mark’s, I spot her black laced gloves and I smile, thankful some remnant of the real Braelyn Agatha Dortches remains.
Yet, unlike Brae, I have to wonder where are my laced gloves? Have I so quickly given everything to the Altrinion force within me and the supernatural world around me that no trace of Damina Careese Nicaud remains? Withstanding my grandmother’s hairpin. What here belongs to the girl I once knew?
“We call forth Damina Duacin,” a thunderous voice from a misty veiled fog calls to me, breaking me from my contemplative state. It’s the first time the surname Duacin has been uttered in reference to me. Strangely, it is both unfamiliar and familiar all at once.
Before I can respond, I feel both Dalcour and Jackson loop their arms through mine, leading me closer to the iridescence filling the courtyard. As they do, I find myself exhaling. Finally. While I am surprised by the unison of their march, I am thankful for both of them.
Having both men at my side feels complete. Whole.
Inhaling the intoxicating fragrances of cinnamon, jasmine and lavender still the frenzied feelings bubbling within me as I rest my anxiousness in the depths of their aromatic scent. Surprisingly, Dalcour is the first to release his hold as we near the misty film, leaving just Jackson and me.
“Jackson Lee Nashoba,” the same thunderous voice shouts. “As Prime Alpha, do you now present the Lady Damina as resident Altrinion to pronounce the alpha status of the Beta Prime, Markus Avram Helsing?”
“I duly submit the Lady Damina to lay charge to earth, moon, and sky for the rising alpha, Markus Avram Helsing. The rising alpha has met my criterions and is hereby given for your valuation,” Jackson addresses the smoking fog before us with a deep bow at his waist and his eyes lowered. Lifting my hand toward the cloud and smoke, a strong arm reaches out from beyond my view, taking hold of my forearm.
“My daughter.” This time the voice is recognizable. It is my father.
“Daddy!” I squeal, surprised to see his face. There are others with him as well. Each of them is seated on what appears to be golden branches of a tree. Shimmering diamond-like fog hovers around them like sparkling rays of light. My father smiles at me, keeping my hand steady in his, and I realize I am now standing inside the cloud and away from Jackson and the crowd of supernaturals in the courtyard.
“Did you not expect to see me?” My father replies with a tender smile.
“Well, Jackson said you’d be here, but seeing you now. It seems like it was just the other day, Daddy,” I answer.
“I see,” he says as he tightly purses his lips from laughter. “Are you ready to begin?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” I answer as my thoughts drift away from the moment. Although I want to make this happen for Mark, I’d rather just take this time to spend with my father. Who knows if I’ll ever have the opportunity again?
“It’s quite all right, Damina. This will not be our last chance together. But we both have responsibilities tonight.” Squeezing my hand, my father smiles once more, bringing me back to the moment.
“Yes, father,” I respond, forcing myself out of my sulking state.
“As an Elder of the Duacin Altrinion Order do you hereby agree to the pronouncement of the rising alpha?”
“Yes, I agree to the pronouncement.”
“As such how shall you pronounce?”
“I hold this pronouncement assured as I bind myself to a surrogates pledge, ensuring the rising alpha’s bloodline continues.” The words slip from my mouth as though I were trained to speak them.
“Do you understand the full measure of such a pledge?” My father’s face is laced with worry, but he restrains himself. Looking over his shoulder, the stone cut expressions of the other elders send chills up my spine, but I work hard to keep my wits about me.
“I do,” I mutter.
“That you seek such a pledge in the pronouncement demonstrates the depth and sincerity of your heart for not only the rising alpha but the supernatural order as well.” Slowly, I see my father’s fretful frown lines retract as a smile frames the corners of his mouth and pride swells his chest. His posture shifts upright from his deep fatherly gaze and he squeezes my palm in his hand. “What pardon or request have you?”
At his questioning, my throat chokes up and I fail to form words. I notice some elders shift behind my father, and I know I must say something soon. As I open my mouth, a mystical and lyrical language escapes my tongue that is strangely familiar. I have no idea how I know to speak such a dialect, but it is as though English were my second language and this my first.
Standing in the misty cloud, it is unclear whether the crowd of supernaturals behind us can discern our exchange. I hope not. The pardon I now request is the most private of utterances ever to leave my lips. While it was not until now I knew the full measure of my request, I am certain as the words roll over my tongue this is exactly what I want.
It is what I need.
My father’s posture resumes a pensive stance as he turns from me to deliberate my request with the elders. As the elders confer with my father, the loud sound of rushing waterfalls echo through the cloudy encasement and my heart races as I try hard to make out their reply. Once more, my heart races and I wonder whether my request was too much to consider.
Turning back to me, my father places his hand on my shoulder and smiles. “Your request has been weighed and your pardon considered. It shall be as you have asked, my daughter,” he says with his eyes beaming brightly, as though my request gave him joy. “Now we charge you, Damina Duacin, to commence with the pronouncement of the rising alpha, Markus Avram Helsing as the new Beta Prime. At your word, the stain of the Dunes curse will be lifted from him and all that swears fealty to his regency.”
Taking my hand in his, we walk to the edging of the cloud, looking out at the supernatural congregants before us. Kissing my forehead, my father pulls his hand from mine, and whispers, “I love you,” as the cloud retracts. The emptiness I now feel at the release of my father’s hand sends a shooting ache through me and a lone tear falls to my cheekbone. Although I am not completely certain, I find great comfort in my suspicion that I will see him again.
Before I have too long to ponder the loss I feel at my father’s exit, Jackson’s sturdy hand entwines with mine once more and he leads us back to the center of the garden. Gregory walks toward us with the Jinn jar in hand and Mark and Brae follow behind him and stand adjacent to the cobble firepit.
“Rising alpha,” Jackson begins as he rests his hand on Mark’s shoulder.
“Yes, my lord,” Mark replies, slowly kneeling to the ground.
“You have chosen this woman, Braelyn Agatha Dortches, to be your mate?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“By the Altrinion Order of Duacin elders, you hereby pledge your fidelity to your mate for the sacredness and propagation of the Helsing bloodline. As such, as your Prime Alpha I grant you rights to take an outsider as your mate for the sole purpose of procreation. Should either of you diverge from your oaths to the Duacin elder or should the Changeling rescind its duty, you must fulfill your pledge to find a worthy mate within three lunar cycles. Failure to do so will result in a reissuance of your Dunes curse for you and all you yield to your leadership.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Rise to your feet, young alpha,” Gregory commands.
Dalcour walks closer to us, fixing himself by Brae’s side. Brae gives a wide smile to Dalcour as he wraps his arm around her. Nervousness grieves Brae’s face and I see her anxiously pick her fingers through the lacing on her gloves.
“Are you ready?” Dalcour whispers in Brae’s ear and she nods in affirmation.
Gregory opens the Jinn jar and a dark misty form rises to our view. Green-yellowish eyes flare open as the Changeling takes its shape, mirroring Brae. Brae gasps, ambling back toward Dalcour, but he keeps her steady. Mark moves to assist her, but Gregory keeps his hand on Mark, preventing him from getting closer to Brae.
Everything in me wants to help Brae as I see the fusion of the black foggy matter attach itself to her. Though, as I look around, I notice no one else seems as bothered by the sight of the Changeling as I am. Brae continues to struggle, writhing in apparent pain as the Changeling takes one last plunge into her being. Brae’s eyes flash a bright green and I now see she is fully overcome by the creature.
“Brae, baby, is that you?” Mark questions.
Blinking rapidly, Brae forces her eyes open, revealing her normal hue. Mark smiles, thankful for her transformation. Running her fingers along her incisors, she winces when she notices her fangs are now gone.
“You’re the closest you’ve been to human in a long time, kiddo,” Dalcour teases, still holding Brae steady from behind.
Brae looks up at Mark and a weak smile forms at the corners of her mouth. Alana pushes a black chivari chair to Brae’s side and helps her to her seat. Dalcour extends his hand to me and I take it after looking to Jackson who only nods and acquiesces our motion. Brae lifts her palms toward me and once more her eyes flash a bright green and I take her hands in mine. A warm force of wind whips through both Brae and me, and I know we are now both bound to the Changeling.
“The binding is complete,” Gregory announces, and a loud chorus of claps erupts through the atmosphere.
“You have witnessed the officiating of your new alpha’s mating and now we shall set forth his charge,” Jackson declares. “Den leaders come forth.”
Several wolves approach the landing of the patio steps, each ceremoniously kneeling with a fist over their chest as they bow before Jackson and Mark.
Once more my mind drifts as Jackson bellows his charge to Mark before the crowd. His litany is just as muting as the words of Charlie Brown’s teacher to my ears. Instead, my eyes gaze around the mansion courtyard in sheer awe of the supernaturals gathered around me.
When did this become my world?
What happened to the once mundane existence I came to know and perhaps love?
How did I get here?
And while Jackson’s declaration to me was sincere, I can hardly fathom him apart from this world. It seems to fit him like a glove. Even Dalcour folds into the tapestry of this new-to-me world which such an elegance it is hard to imagine him without it.
As usual for all things me, even surrounded by so many, I yet feel all alone.
And for the first time it becomes evident, I was not meant for this world.
This is not me.
“Lady Damina,” Jackson says loudly, breaking me from my reflection. His gaze softens as he grabs my hand when I jump at his call. He smiles at me and the beating pace of my heart slows its rhythm. “You may now declare your pronouncement.”
Looking back at Jackson, a part of me is unsure what to say in reply. My eyes drifts to Dalcour and I recall his earlier advisement of the ancient language. Once more, my throat seems to clog, but I open my mouth and allow the lyrical ancient words to effortlessly flow through me.
The den leaders gathered before us howl in response, baying up at the moonlit sky. Mark lifts his face to the moon and yelps loudly as his body transforms into his wolf, breaking out of his black suit. Another line of wolves’ echo in a chorus of howls and their eyes glow bright yellow and orange, like flickering flames. Even Gregory, Dilano and Alana wail in unison with the others with their faces lifted to the moon.
A bright golden light shines through me as Mark falls under the weight of my pronouncement and the rumbling roar of Jackson as he submits to his Prime Alpha. Jackson’s canines lengthen, and a thick white furry coat cascades down Jackson’s sideburns, but he doesn’t shift. Tonight is Mark alone.
“Rise!” Jackson roars and Mark shifts back to his human form, naked and bare before us. This time, however, he is much larger and muscular than before. I even notice Brae’s eyes pop open at his new revelation and her once hidden thoughts are now exposed to me, crowding my mind. I work hard to push her abandoned thoughts aside, but I know with all certainty the two will have an enjoyable time mating tonight.
Must be nice.
Dilano slowly approaches Mark, draping a black linen cloth around his waist, covering his nakedness. Steam fumes through Mark’s body as his muscles continue to contract and constrict as he turns about to face Jackson once more.
Jackson places his hand on Mark’s chest and growls, and I watch in awe as the Dunes marking slowly vanishes from Mark’s skin. The wolves in the yard yelp and howl in reply, and a stammering chorus of claps and shouts once more erupt through the crowd.
Mark grimaces at the burning sensation and removal of the Dunes marking, but he remains steady. Jackson turns Mark back around to the crowd and they all shout and cheer in response.
“I present to you, your Beta Prime and resident alpha, Markus Avram Helsing!”