“Hastiin Sani has asked for you.”
Seta opened her eyes to look up into her brother’s face. It had aged in the years she’d been with the Navajo tribe but still retained its strong, handsome features.
“It is still day.”
“He does not have until night.”
Seta immediately sat up. “He is sure?”
Atsidi nodded. “The Great Spirit will take him soon.”
Seta took a deep breath, collecting herself so she remained strong for Hastiin Sani in his final hours, and once she had her emotions under control, she pictured him and within her next breath she was in his hogan at his side.
“You are very good at that.” He smiled, his eyes still sparkling with life though time had weakened his body.
Seta kneeled at his side and took his hand in both of hers.
“Are you sure time has come?”
“Yes. Do not look so sad. I have lived many years and received many blessings from The Great Spirit. I am leaving with the knowledge my people are strong. I have no regrets except that I never had the chance to meet my great grandson face to face. I do have the joy of knowing you will be reunited with him soon.”
Seta smiled, forcing herself to not show any doubt over that. She did not want him to die with regret or with concern for her. “Yes, and I will tell him of his strong ancestors.”
“You will. Tonight, focus on saving him first.”
“What?” Seta looked at Atsidi as he entered the hogan. He shook his head, not understanding either, and sat beside her.
“I have had a vision, Seta, and I have talked to the woman in the blue trees.”
“The Dream Teller?”
He nodded. “You will be returned to your son tonight. This is your last day with us.”
Elation filled her chest but was quickly dampened by loss. “This is my family. Rialto’s family. I will return with him.”
“No, Seta.” Hastiin Sani squeezed her hand. “You have served us well here. You have protected us and made your people proud. You will not be forgotten. It is time for you to protect others where you are needed.”
“I do not understand.”
“You are as much vampire as you are Navajo. You have a duty to your people.”
“You are my people.”
“So are they. Hastiin Hashtaal sent you here to help us. Now you must help him.”
“I have not spoken to him in over twenty years. He could come to me at any time but he has not.”
“Yet… has he not always been with you?”
Seta looked away. She felt him now. She always felt him. He was her sire.
“I do not want to leave you.”
“The Great Spirit will take me soon. There is no staying for me.”
“My people…” She looked at Atsidi, noting the tears he refused to let fall.
“We will always be with you in your heart, and you with us,” he said. “Only greed would allow me to keep my sister here when she needs to be with her son. Only greed would allow you to come back with us when you are needed with your other family.”
No longer able to hold her tears back, they slid down her face as she reached out to Atsidi.
“I will miss you very much,” she said, now holding each of their hands.
“Hastiin Bidziil will be proud as I tell him of his children,” Hastiin Sani said as he closed his eyes for the last time.
“Hastiin Sani?” Seta leaned over to check his pulse and fell forward.
Her palm hit brown dirt. Looking up she saw a castle in the distance, appearing blue in the moonlight.
“Mother.”
She turned and saw her son lying on the cliff, dark liquid staining his white shirt.
“Rialto!” She rushed to him, kneeling at his side. She placed her hands on his chest, and found she could touch him. She had been returned to him as promised.
“What is this?” she cried as she removed her hands to find them covered in blood.
“He stabbed me… in the back,” Rialto said as he struggled to breathe. “The coward.”
“Who? Who did this to you?” she demanded.
“My father,” he told her. “I know who you are… what he did… to you. I… avenged you.”
“Oh my precious child.” Tears poured freely from her eyes as she assessed his wounds. The sword appeared to have went straight through him. Judging by the pool of blood beneath him and the thready pulse she felt, he would die soon.
Eron’s words floated through her mind. 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.
The spell had been broken because he was dying and only she could save him.
“I avenged you, Mother. Now I will die and haunt this land with you.”
“I am not dead, Rialto.”
He studied her. “You … appear…and disappear.”
“I am a witch.”
His eyes widened a bit, in surprise, but she sensed no fear.
“He killed you. Threw you off the cliff.”
“He did. Someone caught me, gave me a second life. I am a vampire, Rialto. I was saved from death by someone who shared his immortality with me. I can share mine with you and save you from death. Please do not be afraid.”
“Never… of you.” His eyes drifted closed.
“Rialto? Rialto!”
His eyes remained closed. Seta panicked as his pulse became nonexistent. She’d never witnessed a vampire being turned and only knew what Eron had told her. Quickly, afraid time had run out, Seta sank her fangs into Rialto’s throat and drank. She saw his life flash before his eyes. She saw the horrible way the countess treated him, the sadness he felt every day as he wandered the castle alone. She saw his meeting with her mother, the moment he learned the truth, and the way he’d raced back to the castle and beat his father with his fists before taking up a sword and chasing him out to the cliff. She saw Roberto Garibaldi plunge a sword into his own son’s back to save his blackened soul.
Sensing Rialto barely lingering between life and death, she took a jagged rock near his body and used it to slice open her wrist.
“Drink,” she commanded as she raised his upper body from the ground and forced her wrist into his mouth.
Though he hovered just over death, instinct took over and he greedily slurped the life-saving nectar she offered him.
She allowed him to drink until dizziness settled in and then wrapped her arms around him. She focused on the room Eron had provided her with over twenty years ago, praying the shelter inside the cliff face still remained and used her magic to transport them there.
ELEVEN
Seta sat next to her son, waiting for him to awake. The shelter Eron and Christian had carved from within the cliff face still remained but neither vampire appeared to still use it.
“Mother.”
“Rialto!” She checked him over as he rose to a sitting position on the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Hungry,” he answered, his brow creased as he placed his hand over his stomach. He looked down as his hand connected with the dried blood on his shirt. “I should be dead.”
“I saved you. Do you remember?”
He frowned for a moment, then nodded. “Vampire. You said you are a vampire … and a witch. You … you turned me into a vampire.”
“Please do not be angry with me. You are my son. I had to save you.”
“You are my mother.” He smiled before enveloping her in his arms. “I always knew on some level. I felt your love and I knew I did not belong there.”
“I am so sorry, Rialto. Please know I never left you by choice.”
“You never left me at all.” He still smiled as he pulled away but as he studied her his eyes grew dark. “I avenged you but he did not fight fair. He must pay.”
The rage that had simmered inside Seta for nearly three decades rose to the surface. “He must pay for what he did to you.”
They found him
on the cliff, searching the ground.
“Looking for something?” Seta asked. “A body, perhaps?”
Count Roberto Garibaldi spun around, his mouth dropping open as he saw her and his son standing before him.
“You’re dead! I killed you! I killed you both!”
“You tried. Someone saved me that night so I could be here to save my son, who I never left.”
Garibaldi looked between them, his eyes bulging. “No. This is not real. You are dead.”
He rubbed his eyes and looked at them again.
“I should beat you and throw you off the cliff,” Rialto said, “like you did to my mother. That is far too lenient a death for someone as dark and heartless as you.”
Garibaldi stepped backward as Rialto approached but stopped, realizing he would walk himself right off the cliff if he continued. Desperate to live, he ran.
Rialto caught him in two strides, his vampire speed giving his father no chance to escape, and began beating the man who’d attempted to kill them with his fist.
Seta watched as her son repeatedly pummeled his fists into Garibaldi’s flesh, finding satisfaction in every snap of bone and every plop of blood. She knew the importance of teaching her son not to give in to the darkness of his vampire curse, but this was one death she had to allow him to take. After all, it was their oath to destroy evil and protect the humans. Count Roberto Garibaldi was a murderer, and he’d attempted to kill his own child. There was no greater evil than that so she did not interfere when Rialto roared with rage and drank his father to death before removing his head from his body.
“This way,” he said as he kicked Garibaldi’s body aside and led her up the path to the castle.
Taking her a secret route, they avoided his father’s guards and easily reached the countess’s dressing room without any trouble. Rialto threw open the door and they entered, finding the woman at the vanity, brushing her hair, back turned to them.
“Did you succeed in making it appear as if he had been attacked by wolves?” she asked.
“My body wasn’t there,” Rialto answered. “I left his to rot.”
The countess stilled in fear as recognition of Rialto’s voice sank in. She visibly trembled as she slowly turned around.
“I brought you this.” Rialto threw Garibaldi’s severed head at her feet.
She rose from her chair, screaming.
“Your turn,” Rialto said to Seta as he stepped aside and elegantly gestured for her to precede him.
“Hello, Countess,” Seta said, unbothered by the screaming. “You took my son from me and now, for that, I must take your life.”
The countess attempted to run but Seta swept her arm out, effortlessly pinning the woman to the wall with her magic before reaching through her chest and pulling out her heart.
“You never used this anyway,” she said as she crushed the organ in her hand.