“Seta.”
Seta bristled at the sound of the melodic voice coming from behind her.
“I did not call upon you.”
“It has been months, Seta.”
Eron appeared next to her at the canyon’s edge, having not made a sound as he walked across the red earth to stand at her side, but he wouldn’t have. He was not there.
“I can feel your anger across the ocean.”
“A wise man would know better than to stand before a wolf who wants him ripped to pieces.” She looked over at him, refusing to be softened by the sorrow in his emerald eyes. “I suppose that is why you came to me in this way rather than offering your flesh.”
“We have not spoken since that night outside the castle when we both met in this form. When we kissed. Did it anger you so?”
Seta laughed. “Do you think a kiss would anger me? It was the lie behind the kiss. The betrayal.”
He frowned. “I do not understand. I have never lied to you.”
“You pretended to care about me.”
“That was never pretend. I care deeply for you. I am your sire. You can feel what is in my heart.”
“You are a fine actor. Your actions tell me more than your words ever could.”
“Seta, what have I done?”
She gestured to the inner depths of the canyon where several hogans had been built in haste as her people traveled away from the place she’d killed so many men. “Those are my people down there, my family. They are hunted as I am but we are able to protect one another. They keep me safe when the sun is out and I guard over them the rest of the time. They are strong people, good people. I wanted to raise my son among them so we could be together and he could learn how to be a strong warrior from his grandfather and uncle.”
“Seta, you know that can not be.”
“Yes, I know. I made plans to board a ship to Italy. I could not cross the water. One moment I was stepping onto the ship, the next I was back with the tribe. I dug through my memory, through all the spells my grandmother had bestowed upon me in the dream realm, and I learned I could cast a spell to physically transport myself wherever I wanted to go. It works here. I can move to the bottom of this canyon with only a thought. I can not go to Rome. I can not go to my son.”
“I lived with these people once. Living with them is not that different from living as a vampire. I have checked on them over the years. Their way of life is threatened more each day. Rialto would not be as safe here as he is with his father.”
“I am his mother. It is not your place to decree where he is safest. It is not your place to keep me away from my son.”
“The Navajo gave you a way to see him.”
“To look at him, Eron. Do you know the pain of seeing your son and not being able to touch him? To see the stain of tears on his cheeks and not be able to console him? What am I to do as he gets older? I can only appear as a ghost to him. I will not be able to tell him who I am and risk him telling his father. Roberto Garibaldi is an evil man with a great deal of authority. If he could not take his anger out on me, he would take it out on him.”
“I do not know this pain personally,” Eron spoke softly. “I do know the pain of never seeing my child age, of never knowing what she might have been. I know the pain of seeing my child’s name on a grave marker. It is a pain far greater than anyone should ever be asked to bear and the spell I used to send you here is to help spare you the pain of not seeing your son grow into a man. I would give anything just to see my child again, just to see her breathe.”
“It hurts.”
“I told you before that you will be with him again. I did not lie.”
“The curse—”
“It is a spell, Seta, not a curse. There will be a time when your son needs you. At that time the spell will be broken and you will be sent to his side just as you were sent here. I can not give you the day or the hour and I know it hurts you to wait. I am truly sorry for that.”
Seta’s body relaxed as much of her anger left, leaving her with a mass of sorrow. “I am sorry you lost your daughter. I do not understand how you are able to continue living. I would not be strong enough to do so if not for the hope of being with Rialto again.”
“My daughter was innocent and I know she and her mother went to the Lord. I am afraid my death would only send me to another level of hell. At least in this version I am able to help others. Whether I live or die, I will never see my precious Clodagh again. I know you do not trust men easily after what happened to you, Seta, but know this… I would give my life before I ever allowed you to feel the pain of truly losing your son. I never thought I would love another after losing my family. I love you, Seta, whether you believe it or not, and if doing what is necessary to protect you and your son causes you to never want to see me again, I will rest easy just knowing my pain will one day give you the happiness you deserve.”
Seta took a deep breath, willing the tears forming to stay behind her eyes.
“We are linked. I will always be just a thought away if you need me.”
“Eron—”
He was gone.
TEN
1815
Rialto stood on the edge of the cliff, looking down to the water below. He tossed a pebble and watched it bounce from the crags beneath him until it eventually disappeared. Something about the cliff called to him. The place even appeared in his dreams, sometimes the woman did too.
“I know you are there,” he said, turning toward the tree line to see her. She was beautiful with long, flowing black hair and tanned skin as if she’d bathed in the sun and it had left her covered with its essence, and power. So much power. Behind her dark eyes he knew she held more wisdom than every teacher he’d ever had combined and those ruby red lips could curse a man with barely a whisper.
He did not fear her. She, and this cliff, held a secret, a secret that would not harm him. Maybe a secret that would explain to him who he really was, and where he really belonged.
“They speak of you in the village. I hear the whispers.”
She stepped forward, her long dress covering her feet so he could not positively tell, but she appeared to glide toward him.
“What do they say?” she asked, standing before him. She was petite so she looked up at him. At thirteen years of age, he already stood at six feet.
“Some say you are a witch and you are watching us, waiting to curse us. Some say you are an angel watching over us, protecting us.”
She smiled, ever so little. Her eyes held too much sorrow for her to appear truly happy. “What do you think?”
He reached out to touch her hair but she backed away as if afraid of his touch, or what he might find.
“I know you have always been here. I know you have a story to tell. You can tell me.”
She shook her head, frowning. The sadness in her eyes pulled at his heart. As far back as he could remember, he’d known her. He’d catch her watching him from behind trees, especially when he came to the cliff. There were a few times when he was a young boy that he swore she watched over him as he drifted off to sleep. He would wake from bad dreams, see her, and go right back to sleep, knowing she guarded over him. There were times he wished she were his mother instead of the hateful woman who bore him. It was a terrible thing, he knew, to dishonor his mother, even if only by thought, but the countess was a cold-hearted woman. It amazed him how someone so dead inside could give life.
“Are you an angel? You watch over me.”
She laughed a little, the sound sad. “I am no angel. I am far from such a holy being.”
“You watch over me.”
She nodded.
“Why?”
Her gaze roamed over his face, her eyes filling with such a strong degree of pure love, Rialto’s chest tingled as if touched by magic.
“You are a very special young man. I will always be with you.”
Rialto glanced at the castle in the distance, the prison that held him apart from those his father felt were beneath
him, the building he was forced to share with a mother who’d never shown him any form of affection, and back to the small woman before him who made him feel loved just by being near.
“Can you take me away from this place?”
She gasped and tears fell from her eyes. Pain hit Rialto like a sledgehammer to his chest.
“What have I said? I am sorry! Please do not cry.”
“One day,” she whispered, and disappeared.
Rialto reached out, grasping at air in hope of reclaiming her.
“One day? What will happen one day? Who are you?” He turned, looking out over the cliff. “Why do I feel you as if you are part of me?”
Cool wind breezed past, blowing Rialto’s hair away from his brow. He stood at the cliff’s edge, watching the water move below. He searched the crags with his eyes, feeling deep within his heart there was a mystery to be discovered in this place. It was irrational, pure nonsense, but he believed in it as much as he believed in the air he breathed.
A subtle change to the wind alerted him to her presence. He turned, but she did not stand before him. Yet, she was there. He felt her loving eyes on him. Her presence wrapped around him like a blanket, keeping him safe and warm, just as it had every night he’d come to the cliff since speaking with her.
“I know you are here,” he said. “You do not have to show yourself. I only wish I knew your name so I knew who my guardian angel was.”
The air around him stirred in a frenzy and he felt her leave, but not before he heard the slightest whisper on the wind.
“Seta.”