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House of New Gods

  by S.A. Geary

  House of New Gods

  Book One

  by S.A. Geary

  https://www.sageary.com

  Text copyright ©2008-2016 by S.A. Geary

  Cover Art Copyright © S.A. Geary

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

  Any similarity to real persons, living or deceased is coincidental.

  All rights are held by the author and no part of this book may be reproduced,

  distributed, or transmitted in any form without author’s explicit written consent.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

  or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others, please

  purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did

  not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then

  respecting this author’s hard work, time, and dedication to bring you an exceptional

  reading experience.

  For my two angels, Niconah & Tahkai—everything I do

  is for you!

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  1. A Death for a Life

  2. A Palace

  3. Unexpected

  4. Restless

  5. Doubts

  6. Final Call

  7. Skeletons

  8. Roots

  9. Enlightened

  10. Eye of Isis

  11. Guardians

  12. Resentments

  13. Wolf’s Den

  14. Intrigue

  15. Bound

  16. Forbidden

  17. Dinner Party

  18. Declarations

  19. Attacked

  20. Resurrected

  21. Legacy

  22. History Lesson

  23. Fulfilling Prophecy

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  The revelation that these malevolent creatures existed couldn’t hope to spurn my freedom. I remained still, petrified, having been marked not only by their putrid breath, but the black blood coursing through their veins. I knew, the moment our paths crossed, that my destiny had always been entwined in theirs. Our war had raged since ancient times and it would continue until one submitted, or killed the other. The beasts locked their iron jaws harder around my neck, my tiny bones shattered like delicate glass. Crippled by fear, I allowed my lids to close.

  I’m going to die now.

  Eighteen Years Ago...

  New York City

  August 1997

  The maternity ward was quiet except for the familiar cries of a new born baby in the south wing. A severe bead of sweat dripped past the doctor’s brow as he exited; the door to room 2015 clicked shut.

  “Constance, your little girl,” the nurse announced in a heavy accent. As she brought the baby to the edge of the bed, her bulging brown eyes darted between mother and child, and then to the dark haired man holding his palm protectively over his wife.

  “Her father, please.” Constance’ black hair clung to her moistened ivory face. She tried to curl her red tinged lips into a smile though her body had been ravaged. The nurse appeared reluctant, as she handed the child to the man whose eyes were fiercely grey and wild. He opened an arm, flashed a knowing smile and addressed her in her native tongue.

  “Mèsi poutèt ou,” (Thank you) he told her. The dark-skinned woman’s mahogany orbs twitched. In shock, she glanced down at the pale and panting woman. When she met his gaze again her expression hardened.

  “Ki sa ki moun ou ye?”(What are you?) she whispered to him. Constance heard nothing and the man grinned with ease.

  “Ou deja konnen,” (You already know) he told her. “Now, you can go.” Fear etched the nurse’s weathered face—a hysterical sound threatened to escape her lips. The man pulled his forefinger to his own to silence her and she scurried through the door.

  “Is she beautiful Ahmenos? Is she…?” Constance exhaled before closing her bright green eyes. The swell of her abdomen remained stiff and red, ill-concealed by the sheet. He looked down at the baby’s bright pink skin and guardedly wiped away a smear of blood. She cooed up at him and Ahmenos smiled down at her pleasurably. With a nod he began to examine the bundle, which had caused the love of his life such suffering. Constance whimpered impatiently.

  “Yes my dear, yes,” he answered quickly to appease her. He cradled his child and partially removed the blanket, to marvel at her feet and small toes. As he brought her tiny ankle upwards, he was startled by the bluish contusion he found there. Looking closer, he discovered it was a birthmark—a brand in the shape of a horizontal crescent moon and beneath it, a round disk of the sun. He marveled at the beautiful design of it, tracing his finger around the prophetic symbol again and again. All around them was whispering and though Constance remained unaware, Ahmenos could hear them. He could always hear them. They’d come to witness the birth of his daughter.

  “She’s…perfect,” he told Constance.

  1. A Death for a Life

  I was wiping my eyes when I smacked into the flight attendant, all five feet, eleven effing inches of her. I shriveled at her runway frame and flawless makeup.

  “Well, Good Afternoon,” said the blond Briton. She hadn’t a hair out of place, nor an un-buffed nail-bed—the same could be said for the toothy gaggle behind her who were laughing in slow motion. “Cutting it close aren’t we dear,” she added, giving me a curt flick to the back cabin with her glossy red dagger. I didn’t answer and instead stared at her model cronies who rallied to her side, like vultures. The cackling ensued as I passed. Sounded like horses, neighing.

  This wasn’t my life.

  I should have issued an apology for holding things up. I didn’t, because they were overtly rude to me, and because it was a friggin miracle I even made it from my house in Kenilworth to the damn airport. My now ex-boyfriend had decided the last minute would be the opportune time to proclaim his hold of me, issuing a last ditch marriage proposal before I left the states. I said no of course, because eighteen is no way to start out the lifetime of disappointment I’d inflict on another human being. I was leaving everything behind, including him. As soon as I envisioned Jamie’s face I felt my indigestion creep into my larynx. And then a throat cleared behind me. I rolled my eyes. My life was unraveling so, Miss snap her fingers and get to your seat, and the rest of the flight passengers, could just settle!

  The cabin looked on in shared frustration.

  Really?

  Was London about to be swallowed by the Atlantic? Could we not all get to Heathrow fast enough?! The persistent curiosity of my seat mates, was neither amusing, nor welcome, not to mention, it agitated my ailment. Stress, stress was a bitch of a catalyst for reflux, no matter what the doctors said. I swallowed the sour lump and shoved my ear buds in. They weren’t even spouting music. It was simply my wall, my polite defense.

  I needed it today of all days. Slopping together this extended trip to Britain, in lieu of going to college might’ve been high on my bucket list; for my parents it was a horse hefty kick to the groin. They’d spent numerous amounts of coin to afford me a precious life in Chicago, full of dance lessons, music lessons, and to my utter disgust, etiquette class. You know, so I could learn how to sit like a lady and utilize the correct fork in refined company. It was all incredibly dull and pointless in my estimation, and none of it erased the fact that my dad was dead. He was dead, and I had finally accepted, after seven years, that he wasn’t coming back. My senior year marked a turning point. I was abandoning every broken dream and disappointment—I felt no remorse, save the grief I was putting my mom through. She supported my deci
sion, but it would cost her. My step dad wasn’t having it. Costas was not warm and fuzzy, he was finance or failure, the latter being his description of me since I was about twelve. If not for his devotion to my mom, I’m certain the führer would have halted the execution of my trip, only to then parade his discontent of me to their friends all summer.

  “How is she ever going to find herself, and after all that’s happened?” my mom pleaded with him the night before. He only muttered something to the effect of, “...so sick to damn death of hearing about her dad,” and, “...needs to take responsibility for her own life for once!” I sure had an aching finger, one in particular that had spent most of last night raised to my closed bedroom door. He and I were not close. I didn’t anticipate we ever would be. We were too different. I felt one needed to be human, before rearing children. He disagreed.

  In any case, my mom didn’t object and that was all that mattered. She was happy I was going. This served me with some miniscule confidence but I was still plagued.

  I shifted in my seat, and uncomfortably at that. In addition to the cramped quarters of coach, I was also sandwiched between dumb and dumber. Two frat chums kept a steady, if not predictable buzz of borderline pornographic chatter about all the girls they would get on, once they reached London. And this, after one asked if I’d like to join the Mile-High Club. Could I barf, now please, thanks. It was when they began to describe, in detail, their future trysts that I blurted...

  “Do you wanna switch, because I have no problem taking your window seat.”

  “Huh?”

  Absolutely zero retention in these two, none whatsoever. I curtly repeated myself. “You can sit with your friend.” I gestured to the pig on my left with my thumb. I tried not to seem desperate. Before they could mutter a few intelligible syllables, the crew announced our take off and last minute directive to remain seated. I sighed, placing my ear buds in again. Beer pong, roufies, and naked atom bombs it was. I turned the music on this time. The guy to my right was predatory about the one arm rest I had access to. He continued leaning practically in my lap to high five his mate. At first they referred to each-other eloquently—dude this, and dude that.

  “Do you mind?!” I shouted over my music at him. The guy smirked at me and leaned slightly back in his seat.

  The armrest assassin’s name: Jamie.

  I felt myself wince as the other addressed him a second time. A rush of saliva filled my jaw. It burned; stone cottage, right there in the middle of the cramped cabin. The mere mention of my ex’s moniker and I was coming unglued. I turned up my music even more. I would be deaf but at least some of my sanity would remain. Travel was good; a promised hum that I would force myself to take solace in, even if the fibers of my rhinoceros’ heart were breaking.

  Who the hell gets married at our age anyway? This wasn’t the turn of the century, and I certainly wasn’t about to make good on any dowry, not of Costas’ procuring. Right now, he’d sooner see my head thrust in Madame Guillotine, then beneath a veil.

  What was Jamie thinking? What could possibly be going through his mind, to even entertain marriage? Was he deliberately trying to make this transition harder for us both? Because it wasn’t really about the proposal. People did that all the time—a ridiculous notion, a romantic gesture, or one too many rom coms, but with Jamie, it meant something entirely different. To him, asking me to spend the next seventy years together was his way of saying I was his and he didn’t like my leaving the states. Instead of being mature about that, he figured we would follow in his parents’ footsteps and marry right out of high-school. It was the stupidest, most archaic, and downright creepy idea and I hated it. I would have hated it, were I not going to London, and why, because marriage was a prison. I’d done nothing to don an orange jumpsuit and I wasn’t about to relinquish my freedom.

  The Chicago sun washed over the runways. We were about to take off. I rifled in my pocket for my new employer’s last email. Maybe it would make me happy. I allowed Anchille’s pleasant words to take my mind off my ex.

  Dearest Lina,

  I’ve chartered a private helicopter for our journey to The Lakes. It truly is the fastest way

  from London, I hope you don’t mind. Your flight will be long. I presume a five-hour trip by car

  won’t interest you. Looking forward to seeing you soon my dear. -Anchille.

  I rubbed the typed letters softly. Isis and Anchille Bhari recently relocated to England from Karnak, Egypt. I didn’t know much about them, only that they dealt in exotic cars and antiquities. Frankly, the fact that the Bhari’s had money really didn’t appeal to me all that much. I was only interested that they’d found me, and took a gigantic leap of faith in bringing me on as their children’s au pair. There was something peculiar and divine about the way it all came together so seamlessly. I didn’t fuss—I needed a fresh start. I needed to be some place where no one had ever heard of me. I pulled out my one picture of the couple as the captain prepared us for take-off. Their sultry grey eyes and cool mahogany skin were startling, sure, but they were handsome, imperial looking, like modern royalty. Who was I kidding? They were everything that Chicago wasn’t and for that I was ecstatic. Ugly breakup or not, I was determined to make this trip worth it! I could sense Jamie’s letter burning a hole right through my leg, demanding that I read it too. I’d been so terrified when he shoved it at me this morning. I’d flown into the cab, without so much as a look behind me. God, after four and a half years together I owed him at least the courtesy of reading it, right? Violent blue stokes etched across the mangled paper.

  Moving to Europe isn’t going to bring your dad back Lina and it sure as hell isn’t gonna

  make me stop loving you! Do what you have to, for as long as it takes, but know that I’m not

  going anywhere. I’m gonna be here like I’ve always been. Think whatever you want Li. I love you. I didn’t ask you to marry me for any other reason than that. ~Jamie

  I didn’t dare make eye contact because the frat fest around me had finally died down. One had his eyes closed, and the other scrambled to send his final message before being warned. It was probably a snapshot of his package. Sick. I crumpled my letter and shoved it in my pocket. My face was puffy and my eyes were swollen. I could have killed for a large pair of glasses. I didn’t bother bringing any seeing that I was headed into a perpetually foggy part of the world. I certainly was in sad ass shape, and dug for my compact. I pressed my finger to my blotchy cheeks. Blush, blush would help. I hadn’t an ounce of hope it would fix anything—I still had freckles and my red-rimmed hazel eyes made me look like a drug addict! I tossed my bag to the floor and clamped my hand over the arm rest. I didn’t bother checking to see that this was kosher. For the duration of this trip it was my rest. I was Corleone to this new Jamie’s...Moe Green. I would shut out the world, at least for the next seven and a half hours.

  We landed in London in the midst of a brewing storm. Fitting really, considering the course I’d recently taken. I should’ve accepted a job in Fiji, or the Dominican, anywhere that wasn’t filled with such doom and gloom. For a split second I really worried I’d made a huge mistake. Weather like this was not conducive to someone who suffered from SAD, seasonal affective disorder. The acronym was so ironic, and in such a belligerent way. I frowned at the turbulent roll of clouds and grabbed my carry-on. Passengers were greeted by family and friends, and some were met by lovers. I watched two people kiss like they hadn’t laid eyes on one another in months. See? Too many romantic comedies for their own good. It made me insanely jealous. An invisible noose tightened around my throat. I’d left behind everything that meant anything to me, all that was familiar. I felt suffocated in my life but there were moments, glimpses of joy. One of those was Jamie, and now I’d let it all go. What if no one was waiting for me? What if I traveled four thousand miles only to be left alone? I figured if no one showed up I could wonder from city to city, never putting roots down anywhere. My parents would be so pleased.

>   As I meandered I felt I was being scrutinized. It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar feeling. I’d often been the subject of staring, but something was different this time. The hair on the back of my neck rose and the skin of my arms prickled beneath my sweatshirt. I began to feel a little queasy and suddenly very nervous I’d been forgotten. Before I strayed too far from the terminal, a tiny, but powerful voice burst from the throngs. I didn’t see a face to match, but a large white sign with my entire name spelled out. AHMOLINA OVEISI. Oh, how horrid! No matter how many times I saw my last name it made me cringe. It belonged to my step-father; I didn’t.

  “Hello?” She called out again, tipping the sign so that her face showed. Well, the bustle of the airport didn’t stir me from my ample guilt, but her face certainly did. She looked exactly like one of those antique porcelain dolls, but with modern hair and better clothes. She was so obscene beneath the ugly florescence that I laughed. I quickly stopped myself when she came forward, taking in her petite black-clad form and wide doe eyes.

  “Hey,” I said, while extending my hand. I was staring. Stop staring, I shouted inside.

  “Lina,” she sung my preferred handle beautifully and without pause. Her voice was deeper than I’d anticipated it would be. “I’m Avati Oliveri,” she reached for my fingers, “Isis’ assistant.” Her skin was chilly and very hard, and her handshake was like a lawyers’—cool, impartial and about business. Her face didn’t say business though. Her face said: everything’s going to be okay now. It was comforting, sorta.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “How was your flight?” she asked. I looked around her to the traffic which was coming at us on all sides. I mumbled a half response about being cramped between two Neanderthals. My attention was being so pulled, to the frenzy of life spinning around us, patrons gyrating to and fro while the two of us remained still. Avati paid them no attention, but I couldn’t help myself. It was too weird. I shook my head, giving a shrug more to myself. It was jet-lag.

  “Lina?” she pressed my arm.

  “Fine, I’m...it was fine, sorry,” I apologized. Her momentary worry turned to elated happiness in all of two seconds.

  “Brava,” she cheered like a five-year-old. I saw her give a little jump. “Let’s get your bags!”

  Life appeared to return to normal, no jerky robotic movements, or reptilian faces. The momentary blip in time would have to be chalked up to a stress induced hallucination, nothing more. Still, a wave of nausea rippled through my stomach as Avati ushered me to baggage claim. My effects made their way around the tram, and she scooped them up single handedly, as if they were weightless. I’d packed my whole life in there! That really put things in perspective.

  “Come,” she encouraged, slipping a metallic phone inside her leather jacket. We moved ahead, and at a quicker pace, set by my nimble host. I could barely keep up and cursed my inadequate legs while the marathon ensued. Despite the sudden rush, I had the feeling of being watched and it was distinctly of the, creepy stalker variety. I was used to being gawked at, for one reason or another, but this was an invasion. I glanced over my shoulder while trying to keep time with Avati. I didn’t notice anyone out-right but the icky-ness remained, like that time I forgot to check the date on the yogurt. I held my belly.

  “Quickly,” she directed; her tone flat, her face inexpressive. Instinctively, I gripped her hand a bit tighter which of course cramped her leggy stride. She paused and stared at me. I worried, would it seem weird to her, my physical familiarity? I waited a second, but didn’t feel the retraction in her fingers. Avati continued. Our trek ended near a glass enclosure. She stood like a statue. Her grey eyes were glossy, elsewhere, and so I decided to take one last peek behind us. Through a maze of beige coats, squealing tires, beeping transport cars and screaming toddlers, I spotted a beefy black figure. A man was surveying me—quite diligently I realized. Two others, similarly dressed, stood nearby—not next to him, but close, adjacent. There were no faces really, just their odd presence. My temperature rose—it elevated so much that sweat dripped down my temple. I went to wipe it from my brow when something happened. Nightmarish images invaded my mind—pictures of snarling beasts, with blood red eyes and snapping teeth. I cringed away and slapped my hands to my face.

  “Ah!”

  “Lina?” Avati said low.

  When I opened my eyes she was glancing around, almost embarrassed. I felt like a total freak, not to mention my host’s mortification. People paused at the blurting crazy girl before shuffling off to their destinations.

  “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what is wrong with me,” I offered, looking around before drawing up my hood. I took a deep breath and brought my arms down. My head was killing me, but the pictures were gone. I didn’t dare look behind me again.

  “Are you alright?” she asked, less concerned with the straggling onlookers.

  “I’m fine,” I said. She didn’t believe me, not one bit. That made two of us.

  “Anchille will be here in less than thirty seconds Lina,” she assured me anyway.

  Three men approached from the left, one tall and stunningly attractive with waist-length black hair and a medium build; the other two were shorter, brawny with cropped wavy hair and warm sable eyes. They were pretty too, in a gladiator sort of way. I thought I saw the corner of one of their mouths twitch.

  “Anchille,” Avati sung as she waltzed towards them. It worried me how relieved she was to see him. She hadn’t paid our watchers any mind, but something told me she’d known they were there. I almost looked back at them again but I stopped myself. Anchille Bhari was even more striking in person, if that were possible. He embraced Avati as if she were his child, not his wife’s pseudo secretary. I stared at the four of them together, observed their obvious refinement and it made me seriously re-evaluate my dumpy grey UGGs and faded yoga pants! Anchille towered over me. I prayed he wouldn’t scorn my travel attire, but there was no way in hell I was going to wear interview garb on the plane. I was just practical like that. Or lazy? In any case...

  “Ahmolina, you darling girl let me look at you,” he bent down to kiss my very hot cheek. The coolness of his lips made me shudder.

  “Hi.” I was barely able to say the word let alone correct him; my lips were smushed against his coat, the lining of which smelled of incense and lilies. That scent was enough to make everything better, or at least make me forget my name. Anchille stood back and I tried to smile at him. “You can call me Lina,” I managed, praying my tone didn’t reveal self-loathing. He had a twinkle in his eye.

  “As you wish. We’ve all eagerly anticipated your arrival—I trust you’re well?” He was so ecstatic, I didn’t want to spoil our meeting by telling him I had cramps, felt awful and wanted to go home.

  “I am, thank you.” I was beat, emotionally and otherwise. Even if I really wanted to, which I didn’t, I couldn’t go home. This was home. The sooner I got good with it, the better.

  “Shall we?” he spoke to my silent complaint.

  “Yeah, great,” I said, and hoisted my bag. One of Anchille’s party stepped forward and took my carry-on from my shoulder. The other gentlemen took the rest. “I can get that,” I said, to which they both looked at one another and laughed.

  “Anchille?” Avati put her hand to the crook of his arm before we headed outside. The bodyguards were already walking but I hung back. I waited for Anchille and Avati until she saw me and paused. I flushed and moved away a bit to give them privacy. I overheard her say, “Siamo seguiti.” I couldn’t help but steal another glance. Their eyes made some private connection and I realized what she’d referenced. She had seen the strange men in the crowd. Who were they I wondered? Was Anchille, in addition to a sports car connoisseur, also a magnet for mafia hits?

  “Right,” was all Anchille allowed before leading her. “There’s a car waiting for you love. Best be on your way. You’re expected downtown.” Anchille quickly kissed her cheek and she lowered her head, almost obediently.


  “Ciao Lina,” she said.

  “Oh, well bye, thank you for coming to get me,” I told her.

  Avati grinned. “I’ll see you again soon,” she assured me with a warm and genuine smile. I’d never seen anyone move so fast in my life. It was a little disconcerting when I realized she was already outside before my eyes had time to adjust.

  Anchille and I walked to a waiting limousine which was drenched in new fallen rain. The driver came around and we slipped inside, dabbing our pant legs a bit. His men had already taken their seats opposite us. The car smelled of brand new leather, and the television was switched on to a local news station. A dense fog began to settle inches above the ground, and the dismal conditions felt threatening in some inexplicable way. In the wake of my last thoughts the three men stared at me. I cowered into the smooth rest of the passenger door like a lame dog. I may have even whimpered, pitifully.

  “Are you ill my dear?” Anchille inquired fast. Yep. As soon as his fingers touched my shoulder I felt such iciness. He retracted. The driver, who was focusing his rear view mirror, tipped his hat and switched up the heat. We pulled out into traffic then and the sway of the car made me dizzy. “Lina?” Anchille entreated once more.

  “I’m okay…I’m okay, it’s uh…helicopters and storms,” I shivered and peered over the edge of the window into the cumulus sky-line, “doesn’t seem like a very good idea.” He chuckled as did the others.

  “I understand now. Please. You’ll be quite safe. You have my word.” Even Anchille’s unique accent couldn’t dissuade me from my morbid thoughts. Crash and burn was all I kept repeating in my head, crash and burn!

  “Mmm, we’ll see,” I murmured sourly. One of the dark haired men stuck his bottom lip out at me, while the other one shoved his arm.

  “Lina, Thomas and Charles once had their qualms about flight, but now they are pros, isn’t that right?” he asked the men. They nodded.

  “You’ll be fine,” the older looking of the two offered me kindly. I barely could bring my eyes up above the window ledge. My stomach was a cinnamon roll, and not nearly as pleasant.

  I decided to keep my face forward, settling my sights on what was three feet in front of me—the only part of this trip I could control. I knew my expression was pinched, was totally aware that I was acting out. I wasn’t trying to—it was unavoidable. It didn’t help that Thomas, the starrer, was engrossed in my nervous habits. He’d clasped his arms behind his head, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. You’re being rude, I wanted to say, but didn’t.

  “Going to get sick?” he broached, forwardly, as if I were his much picked on sister.

  “No,” I grumped back like our discourse was old hat. It was knee-jerk, but, it felt good...normal.

  You might wanna slide over, just in case, I warned in my head. His amber eyes widened and his nose crinkled. I must’ve really looked like crap. He didn’t move to the other side but I was pretty sure he wanted to by the expression on his face.

  “Thomas,” Charles seemed to caution him below his breath. The young man took his gaze away but I sensed it was with great reluctance. He was handsome, strong, with a sort of rough appeal—Charles too. Their hair was so dark, almost like a blue black above these strange liquid gold eyes. I liked that they were trying hard not to look at me—it made it easier for me to gape at them. The car rocked to the side on account of the wind and I had to stifle a gag reflex. My brain felt fuzzy too. I could’ve killed for a slice of ginger as I pressed my fingertips to my forehead.

  “Taa e poubava od Anchille neka natamu, ne?” Thomas said to Charles. Then he bellowed a hearty, too loud laugh.

  “Ti si odbivaJki Ja, idiot!” Charles snapped back at him. I looked at Anchille for help. I didn’t understand but I knew they were talking about me. My host grinned.

  “Thomas says, you’re more beautiful than I described.”

  “Oh,” I flushed red all over, which exacerbated my nausea. Thomas wasn’t going to play the role of big, annoying brother. He was the hitting on type. Okay I thought. I would be the, not if hell froze over type. The sound of my belly gnarling could not be mistaken. Charles looked annoyed at Thomas, as he handed me a glass of sprite. The bubbles fizzed up to my nose and I honestly could have kissed him. I felt the tip of Thomas’ shoe hit mine. His eyes bulged as Charles forced him to sit back.

  “Forgive my brother, he’s an ass who says whatever he wants,” he offered.

  “It’s okay. Thank you for the soda.”

  “Of course.”

  Thomas was growing restless, raking his fingers in his hands.

  “Ahmolina, it’s an unusual name,” he blurted, in English this time. Stalker, and has impulse control issues. How fun. Charles quickly smacked the back of Thomas’ head; the sound was sharp and firm.

  “Ow dammit!” he griped, rubbing the edge of his ear. It was only bright red for less than a second, before returning to an olive tan.

  “Shut up then!” Charles scorned him. I met Thomas’ eyes and he winked, still rubbing his wounded lobe. He didn’t appear hurt, nor did his ego. Neither of them was more than twenty-five I was sure, but it was clear straight off that Charles was by far the mature one.

  “I didn’t mean it wasn’t pretty,” he added, barely apologetically, narrowing his gaze at his brother. “What’s it mean?”

  “Stop pestering her Thomas! She doesn’t feel well!” Charles scolded him again. I waved his concern away.

  “It’s fine.”

  “No, he’s stupid, don’t feel you have to talk to him. We don’t,” said Charles. Thomas gave his brother a dirty look. I couldn’t hide a small smile. I’d always wanted a sibling.

  “My father is..um, I mean was, Egyptian, like Anchille.” I looked at my employer who nodded. “The beginning of my name comes from some ancient queen, uh,” I stammered, “Ahmose.” I said it with a nervous tilt. They were mute. Okay. “The rest is for my grandmother, Linora.” Minute, visual recognition followed. “It’s a mouthful,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes, adding, “it’s totally lame.”

  “It’s not at all. It reflects your soul, your legacy. You should be proud of it,” Anchille remarked.

  I tried to reciprocate gratitude. What surfaced was more of my deprecating armor. I turned to the window, managing to at least mumble a thank you. The two brothers were silent as I watched their reflections in the glass. Charles glanced quickly to Anchille, who I sensed, nodded again, briefly. I could feel the three of them assessing me in wonder—finally the compliments, which I was lousy at receiving, worked at raising one corner of my mouth. It was moments like these that made me think of my grandma, made me remember her words so vividly. I bore a noble name within my family she’d always said, one that I was certain I wouldn’t live up to. The rain slowed and deep night approached. The last of the fuchsia sky was now cloaked in a blanket of blue. The car sped through the city in a blaze and I gripped the door handle for dear life. Anchille took notice of my agitation. My head lobbed forward and he caught it with his finger gently. I didn’t meet his eyes, instead I zeroed in on his black soled boots. I moved upwards from there, taking in his attire with surprise. For a magnate, he wasn’t what I’d expected at all and the photo certainly didn’t do him justice. I’d imagined him to be attached to a cell phone, oblivious to those around him—the type of tycoon that goes to sleep in his suit! Anchille wasn’t like that at all. I decided he looked like a rock star, tailored in black with just the right amount of unpretentious jewelry. He was painfully good looking. From his profile, I could see the light of his grey iris, and the straight slope of his nose that stopped above two sculpted lips. Beneath his long jet hair, his skin was a shade darker than caramel and from what I could tell, had no imperfection. I could feel myself edging over the seat, positioning myself closer to him. I began to study the angular planes of his face and I was shocked that he was allowing it. He was letting me look! I pinched myself hard and quickly shot back into my seat, pressing my forehead to the glass. What the hell was wrong w
ith me!? The back of the limo smelled too strong, like flowers and something else…earth—it smelled like wet grass and soil. My head was spinning again. Anchille rolled down my window. Droplets of moisture hit my face, and the cold air was so refreshing.

  “Only moments now,” he assured me.

  2. A Palace

  We reached Battersea and despite earlier storm warnings, another party awaited their own flight. We watched as three suits boarded a sapphire blue Dauphin. Its’ low whistle rose at lift off as they hovered momentarily over the Thames, before heading east into those troublesome clouds. Crewman in yellow and black crowded the front of a sleek silver helicopter; they waved to our party and my luggage was quickly and efficiently loaded. I stood with my back against the door, too frightened to leave its quiet safety and warmth and head into the screeching aircraft.

  “It’s alright,” Anchille said in a soothing tone. The men circled us as we proceeded toward the crew. Thomas had a glazed donut clenched between his white teeth. The two of them looked like dogs going for a joyride.

  “Good evening Sean. Are we ready to go?” Anchille asked the pilot. They embraced as if they were old friends.

  “Believe you’re my last one tonight Anchille. Then I’m home to Fi,” Sean sighed and it was apparent he’d put in too many hours. His red hair was disheveled and his blue eyes were sleepy.

  Great, I thought.

  Did no one else have the mental picture of us exploding into a fiery ball over the countryside! Did bodies actually look like charred pieces of meat on a grill after explosions? I despised myself for being so simple, I couldn’t help it. Anchille laughed as he slid his long arm around my quivering waist. He ushered me inside the death trap and placed a gigantic set of headphones over my reluctant head. Anchille whispered that we’d be there before I knew it. I prayed his words were true and that this flying bat mobile, would get us to our destination safe and sound. I could feel myself clenching, squeezing my rear while my eyes slammed shut. Sean—our pilot, slash comedian—appeared confident enough to get us to the Lake District in one unharmed piece. The sound of the engine grew louder as we hovered. The helicopter’s nose pointed downward and I could see the enormous ripples in the water before we increased our speed, turning left into the skyline. Thomas held the earphones tightly. He appeared as uncomfortable as me and then I heard a low sound like muffled wailing. My eyebrows pulled together in speculation, but as soon as we made eye contact, he grinned, giving me a thumbs up. Charles skimmed through a crisp new magazine, seemingly untroubled and perfectly at ease. I buried my head in my hand, my elbow propped on the arm rest. I was trapped, and not even the waft of the Gucci and Chanel perfumed pages of Vogue, could distract me.

  “Close your eyes, if you like. I’m quite sure when you open them again, it will all be over.” Anchille tucked his fore-finger under my chin. I felt a slight sting from his touch, but it didn’t hurt. It felt nice, actually. If it weren’t for Sean’s astute crash and explode jokes, conveyed in a Cockney drawl, I might’ve actually been able to relax. I propped my head against the leather cushion, resting my lash on the safety belt. I hummed softly to myself. It was difficult to focus on only one tune and by the time I realized it, I’d recalled at least forty songs. Anchille tapped my shoulder later, and I realized he was right, our trip was over. We were circling a long stretch of land—at least a few thousand acres—which was secluded high in the Cumbrian Mountains. What a glorious place, and I was sure, even more colorful and alive in daylight. I could make out a silver lined drive that wound into the thick trees and disappeared. Beyond sat the Bhari’s estate. This wasn’t an ordinary home; there was nothing meager or understated about it. It was a palace; an enormous, sprawling mansion made of rich sandstone and covered in foliage. Good grief! It was a small village.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” I admitted humbly. “There’s nothing, for miles, is there?” I inquired, suddenly becoming a bit nervous. I started to hear Jamie’s forewarning in my head again, questioning my judgment to move in with people I’ve never met. Damn him! Damn him for planting that stupid seed of paranoia! It was now lodged in my throat.

  “We have anonymity out here, yes,” Anchille mused, gazing lovingly at his home. “Does that bother you?”

  That depends, are you gonna kill me then use my organs as soup bowls?

  “No, no it doesn’t bother me,” I answered too quick and too loud. Liar, liar, pants on fire!

  “Not many people venture this far into the mountains Lina, at least not with any regularity. I’m sure you’ll find we have all the latest media, so that you feel quite connected with the outside world.” Anchille leaned back toward his own window; a satisfied look on his youthful face.

  Oh, you’re gonna hack me up aren’t you? I knew you were too pretty! I could not stop obsessing. It was so bad and I was really starting to do a number on myself. How could I have traveled so far without knowing for sure I’d be safe? What was this force that was driving me ahead into the unknown? We stood outside the craft, waiting as the crew put our luggage in yet another waiting car, which would drive us the rest of the way to the main house. Sean came around to shake hands with Anchille and the brothers.

  “Good luck Miss,” he tipped his hat. Why? Why did I need luck?

  “Night, thanks for…not killing us,” I returned the bidding with a comical wave. Everyone chuckled.

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “Come Lina. We’re seconds away now,” Anchille coaxed.

  I peered at Sean over my shoulder. He was, pensive. A moment later he returned to his seat inside the helicopter, giving me a final nod. We drove along a winding gravel path, until meeting the black stone driveway which I’d seen from the sky. I craned my neck out the window as we entered. Twenty foot obelisks loomed overhead, marking the way to their home. My mouth fell open as we drove on. A myriad of shrubs, exotic plants and twinkling white lights lined the front of the mansion. It was the length of a football field, several stories, and nearly three quarters of the structure was thick with ivy. Violet flowers hung loosely from those arching vines, and around the walls that led to iron posts at the gates. Surrounding the entire compound, like the arms of a cradle, were the finest and most abundant preserve of woods; beyond lay the picturesque backdrop of the heavenly fells. Anchille had mentioned the names of the mountains as we circled in flight—they were Scafell Pike and Great Gable. To the east was what locals called, the Lake District—an area blooming with rich history, enlivened by quaint villages, smaller fells, and sparkling lakes, which the people here called tarns. I took Anchille’s hand, which completely engulfed my own, and let him escort me up the many granite steps to the front doors. This place was pure magic, like a fairytale…enchanted and ethereal. And although I was certain the air was much too cold for me to smell, I was drowning in the fragrant bowery that hugged their home. Aromatic lilac, roses, lilies, and orchids together, created a unique perfume and even the ancient trees, with their weathered arms, and solemn lean, were magnificent. Heaven, this was heaven. At the corners of the wide staircase stood two feline statues, six feet high and painted shiny obsidian. Their wide paws gripped the edges of the stone perches below and their eyes were made of jewels the shade of indigo. The lids were lined in black and swept gracefully to the corners above their cheekbones. I immediately thought of the Mau’s from my father’s history books, the ones the Egyptian’s had so revered, worshiped even. These two had an unspoken strength in their eyes and they were stunning. I was excited despite my creeping reservations. I stretched my hand toward the glass, which was embossed with thin bands of metal and microscopic crystals. Beyond the entrance I could see shapes moving fluidly back and forth. Anchille slipped his cool fingers in mine. As we crossed over the threshold a gust of cold air whistled until we moved into the large foyer. It was quite an expanse of space, with marble floors, rich umber walls, large oil paintings around, and a massive twinkling chandelier overhead. Below it was a round wood table and on that a tal
l vase of indigo calla lilies. I ventured to touch a black petal, to smell it, out of habit maybe, but something stopped me. These flowers stood apart from all else, in such an unobtainable way. I decided to keep my hands to myself. The archway behind us was made entirely of hematite and the floors were the same black pearl from the photograph. The tiles reflected everything above, things that stood still as well as what moved. I bent over to see my image in one single square. Anchille laughed at my marveling. I stood beneath the chandelier, again with my mouth open obscenely, arms dangling at my sides. This place was Divinity, not a person’s cozy abode, but miraculous nonetheless. It was too cold though, like that gust of wind in the entry. My eyes scaled the vaulted ceilings and the span of crown molding that decorated every inch. There four separate corridors from what I could tell of the first level, and too many closed rooms to count on the second. I felt it needed yards of red velvet rope and brass markers. How did anyone sleep here let alone evade the ghosts that had to roam nightly? I gave a little shiver.

  “My love,” a deep voice called. I didn’t see anyone yet but my eyes inadvertently followed toward the winding staircase, of which there were two.

  “Darling?” Anchille answered. They spoke so proper for young people, at least I thought so. They, like Charles and Thomas, couldn’t have been more than thirty, and that was being prudent in respect to my own eighteen years. The only reason I uttered proper English was because of all those God forsaken charm classes Costas thrust me into. I tried to shed the pervasive coil, but society doesn’t go away, no matter how much you wash. I waited for Isis to appear, and my exhilaration mounted as I thought about the woman from the photo. Would she be the same, or would my expectations far exceed themselves, as they had with Anchille and their home? She appeared from beneath the far right staircase, her graceful body covered in shimmery silk. Beneath it, her smooth cocoa skin dazzled. Her eyes from afar, appeared grey like her husbands, but as she drew closer I noticed they had a flash of some hidden fire. I pulled my hands behind my back, withdrawing as she glided forward at molten speed. Her face was excruciatingly beautiful and I realized that she and Anchille could be twins. These two made those cliquey flight attendants look like ragamuffins scratching in the back alley. They were rude to me so this made me ecstatic.

  “Safe trip?” Isis asked Anchille. Her voice was regal, commanding.

  “Mmm,” he acknowledged as he kissed her hand. Isis was everything I imagined Nefertiti to be: tall, gorgeous, and very intimidating. They kissed then, long and passionately, as if there were only the two of them in the room. I tried to look away but it was so hard. I became the gawking passerby at an accident. It was unavoidable I had to admit, because they were so incredible to look at, but also, I’d momentarily forgotten what it was like, love. I tried not to feel jealous, or upset. I tried to look anywhere but at them. Thomas came up behind me and pressed his lips to my ear.

  “They do it all the time. Best get used to it.” Then he rudely cleared his throat. I immediately glared at him even though I was thankful. Isis broke from her husband’s loving arms and took in my presence. Her stone-like face, which moments ago had terrified me, was soon animated with a kind of motherly joy. My mom had that look, every year at Christmas.

  “Oh Anchille, the child is so lovely,” she cooed as she further disengaged from his embrace.

  I could see by his impinging frown that he wasn’t ready to let her go. Isis moved away regardless—mellifluously floating two more steps over the terrazzo, her hand outstretched to the walls in a seductive way. My skin prickled and I cleared my own throat.

  “Ahlan,” I said, meekly as a mouse. I wanted to impress her with my very, very limited Arabic. She leaned down to meet my face—it seemed like it took a year. Was I really that short?

  “Welcome,” she answered, in un-interrupted English. I was mortified. My aunt warned me once, that people from other countries grew tired of Americans, bludgeoning their native language. Isis watched as my expression soured. She added, “Izzayik?” (How are you?) Her lips were full and sensual as she flashed me a winning smile.

  “Um,” I stammered, grasping for words, “ana kwayisa, shokran, Mrs. Bhari.” I told her I was fine and thank you.

  “Mrs. Bhari!” She railed with laughter. “Isis, please.”

  “Okay,” I agreed right away. I did not want to do anything to upset this woman, ever! She extended her hand. I took a small step to her but halted when I felt such coldness reach my face. I inadvertently glanced behind me, to see if Thomas or Charles had left the door open. They hadn’t. When our fingers touched my entire body trembled. I inhaled her scent. It was so powerful, like musk roses mixed with something sticky, sweet. Isis’ laugh was smooth and velvety—behind it, there was a distinct echo. I wondered if I was imagining it. I tried not to stare, tried not to notice the silhouette of her supple body, or the round of her breasts protruding through the shear gauze-like gown. Surely this wasn’t appropriate attire for meeting with the help. Not that I was judging. I was envious.

  “Thomas?” she called over my head. “Take Lina’s things to her quarters won’t you.”

  “Of course,” he complied. He and Charles scooped up my luggage and carted it away noiselessly. I was left alone with my royal hosts. I shifted and my boots made a terrible squeaking noise on their immaculate floor.

  “Hungry?” she asked me, ignoring the rubber disturbance.

  “Kind of.”

  “This way,” she entreated, linking Anchille in her arm and moving ahead. I followed in tow, down a dimly lit corridor to the right of the foyer. I was clopping like a Clydesdale to keep up. On our left were six-foot oil paintings, and to the right, a glass enclosure with views of the outer veranda and lawns. Arabic music was playing softly in the background as we made our way. Between the paintings were Egyptian sculptures—semi clothed and arching their backs to the sky. Hieroglyphs had been etched into the walls too—it gave the eclectic palace, a very authentic feel. Maybe it was just my wishful thinking, but it felt like I was already melding to this new place, becoming a part of it. A triumphant smile formed at my lips, right as Isis turned around. I straightened up in time.

  “Can you bear to stay with us for a while?” she asked, her expression confidant, like she already knew the answer. I slid my hand over my eyes to feign contempt.

  “I guess I can tolerate it, for a while.” Her musical laughter filled the air as Anchille opened the way to another gorgeous room. I peeked in but soon felt a peculiar pang in my belly, one of unease. I didn’t understand it, couldn’t pinpoint why it made me feel afraid, but the moment I agreed to stay with them, a door closed. And this room, this lavish dining hall, with its floor to ceiling windows, Henry VIII style table, and excess, produced the heaviness over my chest I was positive. I could only count one time I’d ever felt so scared, so besieged by sad memories. Ironically it was in the Tower of London. My senior trip turned sour the minute I entered the depressed stairwell of that soul filled castle. This place, the Bhari’s home, made me feel the same chilly measure of pain, regret. Instinct told me that if I indulged, even a little here, my old life would become less and less familiar. It created quite the paradox of emotions and I quickly backed away into the corridor.

  “It’s a pretty room,” was all I could offer. Could I ignore my intuition in order to have this new life that I wanted so badly?

  3. Unexpected

  After the dining hall, I followed Isis and Anchille through another door off the main room, which led into a smaller cook’s kitchen. It was bright white, with wooden cabinets, a center island, stainless steel appliances, and a double gas stove. A far door led outside, but was typically only used by staff, Isis mentioned. It was a space that thankfully felt normal.

  “Lina,” Isis began, “tell us of your home.” She was lightly circling her long finger around her wine glass, tipping it so that the red contents swirled to the rim but didn’t spill. I kept waiting for it to run over, but nothing happened. She was sedate.
I jerked my own hands from the table and she frowned. “Is something the matter?”

  “No!” I half shrieked. Good God in Heaven, get a grip, I told myself. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry, what did you want to know?”

  “What are your parents like? What interests you?” She peered over her shoulder at Anchille who was preparing food near the stove. A moment passed between them and then Isis focused back on me. “We went over the basics with you via video chat, but it would be,” she paused to glance again at Anchille, “reassuring to hear more.” These were appropriate questions for a couple who’ve just hired a stranger to look after their children. Answer dammit! Answer before they retract their offer!

  “Oh,” I mumbled, trying to play it off casually. “Um, my mom, Constance, is, ahh…” I had to swallow to finish. Suddenly talking about the person I loved more than the waking world felt like mud in my throat. “She’s, she’s great, really, she’s everything to me. She’s my best friend. And, Chicago’s cool, but I really loved New York. That’s where we lived before my mom married my step-dad.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Costas.” I never could say his name without disdain.

  “And how long have they been married?”

  “Wow,” I said, dropping my shoulders. I felt I’d taken a chair to the face.

  “Lina?”

  “Eight years, this December,” I offered fast.

  “What about your biological father?” she asked, as if she’d only inquired about the weather. My heart ached.

  “He, died.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry Lina. We both are.”

  “It’s fine. It’s been a long time. I’m over it.” That was the biggest lie I’d ever told in my life. But I had to tell that one. I would keep telling it, to anyone that asked or cared because eventually, it would be true. “Can we talk about something else? You can ask me anything you like honestly; I will tell you whatever you need to know in order for me to stay. I just can’t talk about my dad.”

  “Of course. We understand, please, forgive our intrusion.”

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “Let’s see. I spent the last four years in Chicago. It was hard transferring like that but I made friends pretty quickly and that helped to make things easier. I love art, painting mostly and music and I took dance for years, but I don’t do that anymore. I’m not religious but spiritual,” I said with a slight, approval seeking lilt. “Uh, I can drive a stick shift and I don’t eat meat a lot. I enjoy going to museums and love learning new languages. Officials in preschool tried telling my mom that I had ADHD, because I didn’t want to listen to the teacher read the story, I wanted to read it myself. My mother told them to go to hell and threatened to home-school me but I wouldn’t allow it.” They laughed. “She says I inherited the genius gene, although I’ve yet to see evidence to support that. I made moderate marks in school and terrible choices in boys and I can be impulsive. Sometimes I swear, like when I get nervous, but never around my elders…or your children.” I took a breath. “Was that too honest? Do you wanna send me back now?”

  They laughed again. “Absolutely not!”

  I sighed. “I pretty much had a normal childhood. I graduated. I live here now.” I shrugged.

  “We see.”

  Please don’t ask me if I have a boyfriend. Please don’t ask me if I have a boyfriend.

  “Ready to eat?” Anchille asked, setting a plate before me.

  Whew! “Yes, I am starving. Thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome.” He winked. “Lina?”

  “Hmm?”

  “We find you lovely and charming, and witty.”

  “Yes,” Isis concurred. “We would have no one else here with us, impulsivity and all!”

  I stopped devouring a second. “My friends think I’m crazy for moving here.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re all going college. Where I live, a teenager skipping the country to live with strangers isn’t exactly, accepted,” I used quotes.

  “You followed your heart?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you have nothing to feel badly about.”

  Tell that to my mother, I thought sourly. I took a final bite then slid the plate forward. “Shukran,” I told Anchille with a spirited smile.

  “Very good,” he complimented, “And you are most welcome.”

  I hadn’t been able to stop thinking of all my messes back home, but the meal was warm and made all my ill feelings and worries melt away. No matter what fears I had of the foreseeable future, I was content to stay put for a while. I liked it here, and I really liked Isis and Anchille. Two rambunctious boys flitted into the room then—they tussled about, their tiny fists clamoring for the other’s skin.

  “You cheated!” accused the little one. His soft caramel locks were sweaty from exercise.

  “Ou! I did not cheat, fibba, you did! We’re not supposed to use mag-”

  “Boys!” Anchille tried to get their attention. When they didn’t obey it was Isis who intervened.

  “al-Astrkha!” At Isis command Anchille then snagged both boys. They continued to jostle around, holding each other collar to collar until their father growled paternally. Finally, their faces showed total submission. Once they weren’t tugging around and I could actually see them I was speechless.

  “Darlings, this in Lina. I expect you to be on your best behavior,” Isis warned. Her grey eyes glimmered under the flat overhead lighting. The boys straightened at the sound of their mother’s firm tone. The children were lovely; their round faces were pulsating and aglow. The taller of the two—who was Ashmolean the eldest, but only by seconds I’d learned—had an un-fair shade of bronze hair, it was unruly. His skin was an even rosy copper, and above his miniature pink mouth, were the brightest blue-grey eyes I’d ever seen. Their looks were so disarming.

  “Say hi Ashmolean,” Anchille prompted him, with a nudge to his back.

  “Hello Miss Lina.”

  This three-year-old didn’t sound like a baby at all. He sounded like a young man. His tone was so precise, developed. The delicate skin over my face chilled at his cool touch. I could have sworn I felt his hand begin to retract.

  “You like to be called Ash, is that right?” I kneeled down to meet him.

  “Yes,” he said, beginning to study my face. Khan very quickly assumed the position in front of his brother.

  “It’s my turn!” he yelped, un-locking his brother’s fingers from mine.

  “Patience,” Isis chided him.

  “Sorry,” he amended. Khan’s muddled Egyptian/British accent was enchanting. I knew I could listen to them for hours.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” I told him, giving a proper hand-shake. His skin felt smooth, like a dove’s feathers and his little face was round, set by a golden crown of curls. He had satiny black lashes and his families signature misty grey eyes. He batted them preciously up at me, as if he knew I was admiring. Khan brought his dimpled hand to my cheek so fast it was a blur. Before I could begin to be shocked he offered a sugary compliment.

  “You’re pretty.”

  “Thank you.” Khan inhaled, leaning in to take a bigger sniff of my mouth.

  “You smell…good too,” he added promptly. His top lip nearly touched mine and I froze. His eyes danced like a baby tiger, about to tear at the flesh of a new carcass. Isis nipped a low order to her child. It was nearly inaudible above a sound like…purring.

  “Wahed. Ithnaan. Thalatha,” she informed him. Khan recoiled, slowly a look of confusion and regret shrouded his face. I didn’t know what happened but there was this split second exchange with his mother and soon Khan’s expression soured, his eyes became two narrow almonds.

  “You don’t have to count at me!” he complained in a low braze. Isis scowled at the baby. As soon as she did Khan grew calm, complacent.

  “Lina, I’ll take you to your quarters now. We’ll have more time to get acquainted tomorrow,” Anchille offered.
The children lay at Isis feet, content as if moments prior there had been no reprimand. Had I missed something? It didn’t matter if I had; I was too exhausted to think about it. I could have lied on a bed of bones, if anyone offered. Ash and Khan watched me with such innocent wonder; they were very—awake. Isis scooped them into her arms.

  “Anchille, can you please,” she signaled for him to take them. He did so, dotingly.

  “Say goodnight boys,” Anchille told them. They quickly protested.

  “But Daddy?” Khan squealed. He struggled to be free of his father’s hold.

  “Kahn,” cautioned Isis, and she started forward, but Anchille held her away with a firm yet loving wave. His laughter was soothing after an awkward silence and then I thought I had things figured out. I walked over to Anchille and Khan, who was watching me excitedly.

  “You’re not, a biting baby are you?” I teased him, softly poking his tummy. His giggle elicited joy around even from Isis.

  “I wouldn’t bite you,” he promised.

  “Good, because I bite back!” I said, snapping my teeth at him. He gave a precious whistle of anxiety before grinning ear to ear.

  “Daddy, I like her.” He swiveled into Anchille more and twined his fingers within his hair.

  “Yes. I like her too,” he said with a chuckle. On their way out of the cooks’ kitchen, Ash whispered to Anchille.

  “She’s like us father.”

  “She is special…like you,” Anchille added with a tap to the toddler’s nose. Isis followed them into the walkway. She turned over her shoulder and announced that Anchille would show me to my quarters soon. I followed to the doorway and watched as they glided along the glass corridor. Khan kissed Isis’ face and stared at me, his chin resting on her shoulder.

  “Will Lina stay long mummy?” he asked, his voice echoing back.

  “I hope my love,” Isis assured him.

  “She reminds me of Uncle Thomas and Uncle Charles. She’s like them too, isn’t she?” he questioned.

  “Yes, I believe so darling. Now hush, off to bed.” She started to sing a lullaby in his ear as they all disappeared beyond the end doors. I sat down at the kitchen table alone. It was too quiet without them. I hated to admit, it was creepy. I rubbed my arms as I waited. I pondered what the children had meant, that I was like them. What an odd thing to say, unless what they’d intended was that I looked Egyptian like them? I decided that was the explanation I was going with. To entertain any of my other theories, at that point, was premature. My fears had already begun to mount the moment I’d stepped into the Bhari’s world. First it was those strangers at the airport watching us and then the eeriness of this place—it was enough to drive a sane person crazy. It was all too much to process—my decision to leave Chicago, my abandoning my mother, turning Jamie’s proposal down—I knew I wouldn’t get a handle on it, at least not the first night. I shriveled from my thoughts, dropping my head on the table with a thud. I opened my eyes to Anchille’s hand, extended, waiting.

  “Oh, okay,” I sighed, getting to my feet with his assistance.

  “To bed?”

  “Please.”

  I knew I could ruin this lovely dream, with my half-witted fantasies. Everything was fine. I was fine. Breathe, I told myself, just breathe. I would put my irritating and knocking fears away, at least until tomorrow when I was more alert and equipped to deal with them. No sense getting worked up yet. The trouble was that I felt certain that whatever inner worries I was beginning to have, would continue to surface no matter how much I stuffed them down. I had to ask myself if I cared, or at the very least how much? Did it matter that they were obviously, if not frighteningly different from me? Did it matter that the lengths taken for me to feel comfortable and safe bordered on overkill? And of course, was it a possibility that I was in fact driving myself mad? It wouldn’t be too far-fetched, considering self-fulfilling prophecy and I were no strangers. Maybe my mom made me watch one too many Dateline episodes in the past. Damn her! Now every single person who showed minuscule hospitality, was a maniac killer. I winced from the shrieking shower scene in my head just as Anchille turned to see I was still with him.

  All scenarios were plausible, but I didn’t want things to end before they’d had a chance to begin. My longing to be here, my raw desire to stay with them already, before truly knowing them or what I was getting myself into, was much stronger, far more powerful than those fears. I would shut up, and stay! Anchille was silent as we moved through the mansion. It was still lit with burning candles, and I watched as ghostly shadows danced along the walls. Not helping in the fear department I thought, grimacing. My host’s movements were quick, accurate and noiseless, while my boots made loud squeaks even over the heavily carpeted areas. I produced the clamor of an entire city block! I apologized. He only smiled and continued. We approached a large painting on my left and I stopped. A silver haired man sat in a high back chair, suit legs crossed, weathered hands folded in his lap. The expression on his face reminded me of someone—as I leaned closer I realized, not just any someone. I tried to ignore the pensive furl of the thick brow, the crinkles at the corners of the eyes, even the similarity between the lips—the top smaller than the bottom; it was uncanny. I felt Anchille behind me.

  “You’ve found Menaan.”

  “Menaan?”

  “My father,” he said, peering closer himself.

  “He looks...” I paused, unsure if I should make the inference.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I said fast. “He’s handsome Anchille.”

  “Thank you Lina.” We gazed at the man a moment longer.

  I couldn’t resist. “I feel like I’ve seen him before.”

  Anchille shrugged. “He has one of those faces.”

  Doubtful. “Where is he now?” A sting filled my throat. I wanted to cry all of a sudden, like my dad was right next to me. Menaan, was the split image of my father, despite the obvious years dividing them.

  “He’s gone,” Anchille answered, his eyes distant.

  “I’m sorry. How long?”

  “Too many years to count,” he said. I followed him but still kept an eye on Menaan, who seemed to be watching me. Along with the eeriness of the painting I also sensed a presence. I continued following Anchille but I was a good few paces behind. I knew she was there. It was an all too familiar sensation, ghosts, and in this instance, it was my dead grandmother. She’d done this a handful of times since her death, but I hadn’t anticipated in a million years she would show up at the Bhari home. I hadn’t talked to her in over a year. If I were being completely honest, I didn’t think I’d be engaging with her until will met on the other side. Grandpa was gone, my father too, what un-finished business could she still have on this earth?

  “Nani?” I called out to her quietly, mortified if I should alert Anchille to the crazy that was my un-conventional, and probably unhealthy relationship with the other side. She didn’t answer. It didn’t matter. We’d done this dance many times. “Nani, what are you doing here?” Anchille seemed to slow ahead. I couldn’t keep talking to her. Either one, she would show herself to him, or two, I would face the stark realization that Linora had long made her last journey, and I, being under immense stress, was literally going batshit. And then, she appeared, between us, hovering, this little white hologram thing. I’d never get used to it, not for as long as I lived, or for as long as she deemed it necessary to haunt me. Anchille called over his shoulder.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Huh? Yep, I’m fine. I’m coming.” I skipped ahead to him, walking right through her. I felt nothing but a moist cold that made me blanch. He couldn’t see her? Oh thank the Lord! But how could he not see this filmy little old brown lady whose feet never touched the floor?!

  Nani, what are you doing here?! This time I sent the message from deep inside. She didn’t say anything. She only looked ahead at Anchille who was gaping back at me.

  “Are you feeling alright Lina?” he asked.
/>
  Linora held up her finger to her lips. I kept staring at her until I realized that he was waiting for an appropriate explanation. I didn’t have one. What was I supposed to say? Hi, sometimes my dead grandmother likes to pop up whenever the mood strikes…for instance, in the middle of my pre-calc exam! Argh!

  “Anchille I’m sorry for acting like this. You must think I’m out of my mind. I really just am so exhausted, but I promise, after a good night sleep, I will be…not like this anymore.”

  He smiled thoughtfully then. “You’ve no need to explain Lina. These are big changes for someone so young. You’re far from home, far from anyone and anything comforting. It makes perfect sense that you should feel out of place, even frightened perhaps?” I agreed with a nod, still watching my grandma. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “M’okay.”

  Linora still had the smoothest chocolate skin, and her round, honey colored eyes were animate as ever—even in death, she was the Good French Lady. But why did she do this now? Could the hereafter be so humdrum, that my gran found earth news superior? Or was it that I was so interesting, me, and all my ridiculousness? Was my life now her reality TV.? The palpitations of my heart gave my panic away but she kept smiling, as if her being here was not nearly as disturbing as it actually was. I loved her so much but I really resented her voyeurism! It was not normal. Her endearing cackle echoed through the walls. This time Anchille moved, if only his head, which cocked back to check on me for the third time. Linora de-materialized into the wall like a freaking dementor! I grimaced in her direction then quickly fell in step with Anchille.

  We arrived at my new quarters, a fire-lit room full of plum Gothic furniture, all draped in matching chenille throws and embroidered pillows. The vintage space reminded me of a Jane Austen novel, if the author also had been seduced by Dracula. I’d decide later if I hated or loved it. Along the Prussian painted walls were Dante’s chairs, with indigo cushions and hand carved feet. In front of the marble fireplace were two sleigh couches facing one another, with the same dark purple fabric. I set one bag on a nearby tea table. My phone I placed next to a vessel of midnight orchids. Wide flames ebbed from the wood, creating a gentle crackling from the hearth—it made the room warm, much warmer than the rest of the house. I was grateful for that and prepared to un-load. I laid on one sofa, kicking off my boots.

  “Lina?” Anchille called.

  “Yeah?” I replied, leaning up and over the couch. He was across the interior of the room, standing outside another closed door.

  “This is your bedroom,” he announced, nodding at the entryway.

  I gasped. “There’s more?”

  “Mmm,” he hummed, beckoning I come to him.

  Four poster bed in dark wood, violet bedding, matching veils, and beautiful carpet. “It’s gorgeous,” I said, shaking my head.

  “You’ll also find a private passage to the gardens, the forest, and a small stream. Great care was taken to make it as serene and natural as possible.”

  “For me?” I felt uncomfortable. Anchille smiled.

  “It’s years built, with intent, for very special guests,” he replied.

  I was relieved.

  “There’s plentiful wildlife. In addition to enjoying your new accommodations, I do hope you take time to explore.”

  “Oh, I will,” I confirmed, peering out into the dark night. I couldn’t see a thing but that didn’t hamper my curiosity at all. I turned to face the princess bed as tall as the ceiling. Delicate flowers were sculpted into six-inch-thick wrought iron posts, in the shape of calla lilies. The bedclothes were black-violet, like all things in this house, which I’d decided moments before, was my new favorite color. The skirt beneath hung in a dainty ruffle along the perimeter. I decided, the mixed period furniture was brilliant after all—loved it!

  “Anchille,” I whispered his name unintentionally, as I ran my fingers along the bedding.

  “Does it suit?” he queried. How could it not?

  “I never imagined,” I held my lips, “it’s so….” I wanted this—I knew that I wanted to be nowhere else. I could feel his mirth at my back. He watched serenely as I explored. A canopy? I had a canopy! I also had my very own bathroom to rival a pro ball player. In addition to that, there was an ornately detailed armoire, a black vanity with a zillion toiletries displayed over a lace cover, and a hematite bowl of clear water with a matching pitcher. I was in love.

  “Is it enough?” Anchille surveyed, folding his arms over his chest. I turned back to him and shook my head.

  “More than.”

  “Good. On the wall you will find an intercom, should you need anything. One of the servants or maids will assist you without delay. If you need to reach myself or Isis, you may push the center button. That will ring directly into our personal quarters.” He pointed to a box on the wall near the door. He then rubbed his fingers over his smooth forehead, puzzling over his thoughts a moment. I agreed joyously and probably idiotically, to everything he’d said.

  “Ah one thing more and I shall leave you my dear.” His eyes twinkled in the firelight. “If there is anything we, or I can do to make you more comfortable, please do not hesitate.”

  “Oh, I’m good,” I announced happily. “Just gonna run and pounce on that huge bed as soon as you leave.” I laughed, eying the double mattresses with fervor. He cocked a brow; a slight grin animated his seraphic face.

  “Why wait,” he suggested. I took one look at it and ran, flying up and landing on my tummy. I couldn’t stop laughing as I stood up and began jumping. I hadn’t done it in years and it felt so good.

  “How is it?” he asked, standing near the post, legs crossed at the floor.

  “There’s not much give,” I teased, jumping harder. Anchille laughed. “Kidding.” Actually I wasn’t. The bed was hard. This palace did have flaws, but…not many. A solid peace danced in Anchille’s bright eyes. I kept jumping while watching him. He was perfection. I hated to admit—since it seemed inappropriate—that he startled me. It’s like that moment when you’ve caught sight of something glorious, too astonishing that you think your eyes have played tricks on you. It was like that with Anchille. I was certain he knew this. How could he not know the effect he had over people? As I whirled about I began to notice, the slight difference in him...the obscurity which had been almost undetectable but clearly had always been there. I watched his stillness. I waited for there to be a shifting, a motion of imminent retire, but there was nothing, not even a breath—he was a statue. My jumping slowed to a haphazard bounce to dead feet. Anchille was staring, hard, his eyes had glazed over. They appeared cold. I shuddered so violently but I couldn’t look away. I was mesmerized. His black silky hair fell around his shoulders, surrounding him was this peculiar light. It exhumed his copper skin, creating an undeniable aura. Auras were something I’d been accustomed to seeing my whole life. I had neither loved nor loathed the gift growing up, that was until this moment. Now, with Anchille, my talent frightened me. When most people’s aura’s were bland imitations of the rainbow, one like his truly stood apart. It was the absence of color but full of light, and it was magnetic, rippling around him like a mirage. I watched the way the ether moved in and out and all around him, streams of gold, white, and something brighter than even that. I felt tingling in my cheeks and fingers, forcing me to look away. When I returned to attention life finally flickered at his lips. They turned upward, and his face took the shape of a boy. He wasn’t a boy—I wasn’t even sure he was a man. My heart thumped twice and I stepped back on my heel. If a scream could’ve ripped from my throat it would have. I held my hand over my mouth, which, by his reaction, was infinitely worse than gasping and shrieking. I dropped my hand cold. He murmured so gently that I was certain his mouth hadn’t even moved. Did he say that it was okay? I trembled again but I tried not to let it show. We stared at one another for several moments, and the electricity I’d felt upon arrival, grew stronger, more incontestable. I began having the sensation that I’d taken
one too many ibuprofens. Euw, icky tummy.

  “Lina,” he said sternly, motioning like he would come closer. I had one heel resting on the opposite corner of the bed. The French doors were to my left about ten feet. I looked away from him and to the exit. Anchille didn’t say a word. When I glanced back he had moved, this time, towards the bedroom door.

  “Sleep well,” was all he said, then he disappeared to the sitting room and in moments I heard the heavy door click into place.

  Afterward a chill settled in the room and I wrapped my arms around myself for security.

  4. Restless

  I was alone which failed to provide the comfort and reprieve I thought it would. I walked into the parlor and took a seat on one of the couches, next to the fireplace. I turned up my i-pod—without putting in my buds—still, the dull roar of music helped. I was being stupid and paranoid I knew, but seeing Linora had just made things so much worse. Her track record has proven time and again, that she only shows up when someone is about to die. I pulled my collar out from my neck and looked around at the walls and ceiling. Gran? Other than the whistle from the chimney flue, I was totally alone.

  “Lina, you are a freak!” I shook my head and went straight for the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I made sure I saw where Thomas and Charles had placed my luggage, double checking that my passport, and emergency money was in order. When I’d secured my belongings I decided to call home. My mom would be up watching some re-run, and most likely praying to St. Christopher I hadn’t burnt to a crisp in a plane crash! How did I come by my flair for drama?

  “Hello?” she answered sleepily.

  “Hey mom,” I said. In the background the TV. set was turned up a bit loud. She was watching a Jimmy Stewart film—I could always place his distinctive voice.

  “Baby! Oh honey, I’ve been worried about you all day, or night, whatever, you know what I mean! Are you okay?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m here, and all in one, un-broiled piece.”

  “Thank Christopher,” she sighed dramatically, and I detected a twinge of an accent in her voice. She was weird like that. Her Irish only came out a few times a year, in moments of extreme stress as it were, and of course at mass. Our Father was a transplant from Cork and I did believe my mother had a slight crush on the newest addition to St. Mary’s parish. I hated when she spoke like him, but I knew she couldn’t help it. She did the same thing around certain African Americans. Unfortunately, because I was my father’s daughter, those folks would stare at her blankly, then look at me as if I were responsible for my own mother’s appropriation. Thank Christopher indeed. Cripes! She probably crossed herself when she said it too! My mom turned down the volume.

  “Which one tonight?”

  “Vivacious Lady. Ginger is so divine, isn’t she?” My mom sighed.

  I laughed while shaking my head. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. How is it, is everything okay there sweetie?” Her tone was almost penitent, as though she’d been the one to shove me out into the world, instead of the other way around.

  “It’s all fine mom.”

  “Oh, I hate when you fly.”

  “I don’t ever fly.”

  “Well, I hate the idea of it then.”

  “You’re weird,” I snorted. She ignored my comment, completely. She was a tad ADD that way. I learned at an early age just to go with it, even if her cute mind rambled from one topic to the next at lightning speed. Costas would stop talking altogether, figuring it would be his turn to speak, eventually.

  “Did you eat something?” she inquired. “Plane food is so awful. You know I just read somewhere that they were serving bad...”

  “Yes mom, yes I ate,” I replied, looking into the vanity mirror. I had indigestion actually—must be the spices. That’s funny. I grew up on hot dishes. What was wrong with me tonight? If she could only see my peaked face and fearful eyes, she’d know the truth—that I was a mess. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was putting her heart at rest. She could be quite the alarmist.

  “What’s it like, are they nice?” she demanded, disregarding my jet-lagged voice and the late hour.

  “Mom, it’s like five o’clock in the morning for you, go back to bed. I’m sure Costas doesn’t want you down on the couch. I’ll call you later okay, we’ll talk then. I’m fine and safe, everything’s great. I was not left waiting long before Mr. Bhari picked me up. It’s beautiful country and their house is…” I stopped, instantly feeling a pronounced palpitation in my chest.

  “What, what is it baby?” she pressed. I shivered as I thought of my grandma again. Seeing apparitions and auras wasn’t something I really shared with my mom. Only once, when I was five, and staring daggers at a man who I could swear was about to commit a crime, she asked me, “See something honey?” Of course I shook my head no, briskly returning my attention to whatever trinket I’d been playing with moments before. I’ve always wondered if what she’d really been insinuating was, “Is it a bad man?” and “Should mommy call the police?”

  “Nothing,” I said aloud. “Their house is amazing but I need to get to sleep so that I’m ready for tomorrow, y’know.” I hoped she wouldn’t pressure me further.

  “Sure baby. But don’t forget, promise?” she urged.

  “I know, love you.”

  “Love you rabbit,” she whispered back.

  After we’d said goodnight it was hard to hang up the phone, even though the sullen dial tone had been sounding for more than a minute. I simply sat holding it, wishing I could pull her through into this world. I missed her. I missed my mother so badly that it physically hurt to think about it. I crawled into bed. There would be no more jumping tonight. My eyes surrendered.

  I walked along the lower ravine, feeling through the high grasses and wildflowers. The water was cold against my bare feet so I tried staying on as many boulders as I could. Deer and their fawn came to the brooks edge to get a drink. There were butterflies, dragonflies, and all sorts of nature’s children flitting about. The sun-rays breached the canopy, casting a warm fuzzy glow over this scene straight out of a Tolkien novel. I was content to stay for a while, until I saw them. Black hooded figures, three in all and they were only a hundred yards away, preparing to move through the fairy folk and by any means necessary. All the animals and insects scattered in one fell screech, their presence shrouded in the darkness of the woods around. The wraiths were getting closer so I ducked off the path and behind a sprawling Oak. Apart from a hawk’s wing that flapped high above the misty tree-tops, there was no noise, no tremble, only the painful cries of the shadowed creatures. I squeezed my hands together to stop from shaking, peering around the trunk once more to see if they’d gone. They remained. I tried to will myself to wake, to reach finger by finger for the top of my consciousness. It was useless and then I smelled something hot and vile. It was putrid, like rotting corpses. A few feet away, something exhaled in a rush. It snuffed the ground several times, shifting its weight to the left and right—waiting. I had no weapon, no way of defending myself, only a small broken branch that had just cracked beneath my foot. I looked down and was surprised to see the way it had broken had left a pointy edge. I retrieved it carefully, and prayed that I could get them before they got me. As my thumb grazed the tip of the jagged spear, sick breath combed my face and rumpled the front of my hair. I gripped the thin bark with tight fists. My eyes opened, in slow motion, to an animal staring me in the face; its monstrous gaze inches from my own. Two others behind it stirred restlessly; their vacant red orbs burning. The closest snarled, its snout wrinkled; it viciously bared its razor sharp teeth.

  I screamed to high Heaven, shooting up in bed, full of sweat and panting. I gripped what felt like drenched bed-clothes. My pajamas were soaked too. I covered my mouth as I regained control, horrified that I’d woken half the house. I paused momentarily, waiting for the inevitable sound of scurrying feet and pounding at my front door. But there was no movement. I sat back against the headboard, pullin
g the damp sheets up around my shoulders. I closed my eyes until flashes of my dream shot me forward once more. I covered my mouth with my fist, suppressing another scream. What the hell were they?! I couldn’t decide on gigantic wolves or prehistoric hyenas, but one thing was certain, they were terrifying. They had wiry black hair that sprang up off their hackles in a dreadful way. And their eyes…their eyes had been so menacing, blood red with some primeval rage. The nape of my neck was drenched. I needed to get out of my clothes. The room was pitch as I fumbled around. After banging my leg on a chair near the bathroom I hobbled onto the cold tiles. I found the switch and grabbed the nearest towel and placed it over the bedding. I felt so disoriented. Back home I’d never had such an unpleasant rest, not ever! My house had been temperature controlled, and my subconscious hadn’t been infiltrated by monsters. Deprivation, there was no other explanation for why I was flipping out. And who could I tell? I couldn’t very well wake this entire house and tell them I’m scared for God’s sake. Yes, I’m having nightmares about three mutant sized black beasts, who frankly I believe also stalked me at the airport, except then they’d been human. The Bhari’s would have me on the next plane home for sure. I had to get this bed dry, pull myself together and then, I’d start the day anew. I passed the vanity and headed into the parlor where I’d dropped my bag. I picked up my cellphone. You’ve got to be kidding me, 6 am.

  I went back in my bedroom, immediately brining my gaze to the French doors. I tucked the billowy curtain around my chin. It was windy outside, the trees swayed back and forth, branches snapped and fell to the ground. A shape in the darkness moved. I narrowed my vision to get a better look. Under the shadow, something reflected yellow in the dark, like an animal’s eyes. I timidly pulled the curtain over my face. The shape wasn’t moving; it just seemed to hover outside, in a threatening way. I jumped back from the glass, clutching my wet night shirt frantically. The logs in the wood burner in the corner had all but diminished, leaving my bedroom an uncomfortable sixty degrees. Soon sixty turned to fifty-five, then I could have sworn no more than forty. I exhaled and could see the white of my breath. My pulse quickened. I peered out slowly to check again, the shape was gone. I blurred my eyes, cupping my hands over the pane. All that remained were four large animal footprints in the earth and the sound of heavy panting nearby. And in my room I knew I wasn’t alone either. I sprinted across that floor in a flash. I slammed my palm against the first button I could reach!

  “Help me! Somebody help!” I shouted hysterically. Thirty seconds later my plea was answered. The knock at the outer door spurred me to bolt—as a result, I collided with a scissor chair and was nearly rendered unconscious. I tasted blood on my lip as it dripped from my temple. I opened the door, even as my wound continued to spout.

  “Is everything alright Miss, oh!” The face and body was only a silhouette in the dim hallway, but I could see that the helper was distinctly female.

  “Something’s…outside!” I faltered, still gripping the door handle for support, my head gushing. The woman moved quickly over the threshold, reaching in her apron.

  “What happened?” she asked, searching my bleeding face as she dabbed. “Come, sit down while I look at this.”

  “Ouch! Nothing, really I’m fine. I said I saw something outside. Can you go look please?” I begged her as I took the tissues she was piling over my face. I applied pressure to my swelling head and noticed the bright burgundy contrasting the white paper. The maid helped me to a couch near the larger fireplace as she examined my awful blow. I felt like such an idiot.

  “You’ve a pretty considerable lump,” she assessed. “You may need a doctor to look at this.”

  “No…no, I’m fine, but there was an animal outside my window, I swear,” I explained. I couldn’t bare everyone knowing how pathetically skittish I was being, but I wasn’t sure my fears were totally un-founded. She looked at me puzzled, and then shrugged gently as she crossed the room.

  “There is nothing there now. What did you see?”

  “I’m not sure. It was like a dog, maybe, but…” I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t stand to be looked at in this way. She was calculating my entire physical mood. “Sorry,” I smiled and offered her the hand that wasn’t gripping my head. “I’m Lina.” She took my hand.

  “Sitre,” she smiled back. I look down at her hand noticing I’d gotten blood on it.

  “Gross! I’m so sorry,” I said, taking the tissues from my wound and wiping her off. She shook her head and went into the bathroom, returning with a towel. After Sitre cleaned me up she did the same for herself. “I really am sorry, Sit-ra, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s really pretty.”

  “Thank you Miss Lina.”

  I watched as she continued assessing the damage to my head. “That was the name of the pharaoh Ramses’ wife?” I blurted. She moved away in order to rinse out the towel, graciously giving small indication that I was correct.

  “Not me of course, but yes,” she said, coming back to dab. “Also, another was nursemaid to Hatshepsut.”

  “That’s really cool,” I told her sincerely.

  “I’m fond of it.”

  Her eyes were the color of the orchids. Her skin was like sun-burnt chocolate and she wore a very elegant uniform—a cream gauze tunic. I started to feel mildly better, mildly. But I knew what I saw and no amount of her generosity was going to sway me to believe differently. It was an animal, a very large one.

  “About what I saw?”

  “I’m here to serve you,” she announced proudly.

  “Right, thanks for that, but about the animal?” I prompted again. There was another uncomfortable silence.

  “I’m sorry Miss, I saw nothing. But, if it will make you feel better, I’ll have one of the grounds men take a look,” she offered generously. I accepted.

  Sitre carefully placed more logs on the dying fire in my room as well as in the parlor. I watched her with ardent interest. Her waist length nut hair was woven into a long braid and swung as she moved about. A sea of brown freckles lay on either sides of her nose, just like mine, and she had a petite pair of up-swept lips to match. I momentarily forgot my fear. As she moved back into the bedroom I followed, taking small relief in the fact that I was no longer alone in this odd place. I prayed the rest of my stay be less stressful. A soft nudging in my belly told me that hope, would be a wasted effort.

  “Getting warmer now?” she asked.

  “Hmm, thank you so much.” I wanted to hug her. Sitre paused her work for a fraction of a second, as if she were waiting for me to do so. I didn’t. Instead I sat in a chair near the tiny cast iron burner, watching her as she assessed the damage. I could feel the heat rising in me, stinging my face when she reached the bed. Of course she made no remark about the sheets whatsoever. As Sitre worked I began to feel a gnawing at my insides. I knew I shouldn’t be hungry; I’d just eaten late last night. It made me wonder where the insatiable appetite was coming from. There was a definite rawness surrounding the inner layers of my stomach.

  As if she’d heard my thoughts or the rumblings of my belly, she said, “Breakfast will be at eight, in the grand dining hall.”

  “Okay.” All I wanted was a bagel and some coffee. Grand dining hall, I thought, really? “Uh, and what does one wear to that?” I asked again in mock seriousness. Sitre laughed.

  “You can wear whatever you like.”

  I nodded warily and went to the mirror to stare at my reflection. I washed my face and ran my fingers through my tousled hair. I looked like I felt—worn out, sallow, and no patience to make it better. I began wishing I had my girlfriends here to help me. Patti and Jane had really kept me abreast of fashion when I hadn’t the heart to do for myself. My heart flexed thinking of my friends. I wondered if Kate had left for Paris yet. The memory of her auburn hair, easy blue eyes and southern drawl made me so damn homesick. She was my favorite White Collar buddy. Binging on re-runs of Matt Bomer never failed to deliver healthy warmt
h to our faces. He was our ideal man, and that was that!

  “I’ve drawn you a bath Miss Lina, perhaps you’d like to start there?” Sitre offered.

  “Sure.” I swiped my fingers over the rainbow of bubbles, still daydreaming of my friends. Kate had tried to convince Jane and Patti to join her in France. I knew Patti would pass on chaperoning our statuesque friend to modeling gigs all over the chic city. She’d definitely find that kind of environment dull as drapes. And Jane of course wouldn’t be allowed to go at all; Evaline would no doubt be holding her hostage all summer. I missed them all already and tried to suppress the longing I felt to see them. In the other room Sitre was on the phone. I tiptoed softly to the bathroom door and pressed my ear to the wood, because apparently, in addition to being a monster-seeing-psycho, I was also a snoop.

  “Thomas.” Her voice was low, muffled as if she were pushing her lips hard against the microphone. I strained to hear. “No, do not alert them. She’s requested no medical intervention. It’s being dealt with,” she ordered. Then she said something else that I didn’t understand, but which sounded like a reprimand. Disappoint a step-dad enough and you begin to recognize the tenor. “Nie ne mora da bidat bezgrižni,” she said heatedly before slamming the phone down.

  What language was that? Dang it! I needed the internet bad. Did they even have Wi-Fi here? Probably not, we were out in the middle of nowhere! I couldn’t see Sitre’s face through the tiny crack in the door, only the hem of her tunic and the thin gold studded straps of her sandals. I backed away slowly and flipped on the sink to make random noise, until I heard the jingle of a shop bell. I reached for the handle and peeked again. Two new maids came in carrying garments, and what looked like styling tools, and a third pushed in a rolling cart. It was full of what looked like white tea cakes—on top of them, were ribbons of purple icing. A silver kettle in the center smoked as one girl poured hot water into a cup. Yum. My belly growled.

  “Lina?” Sitre called, though I was positive she’d known I was eavesdropping the entire time. As soon as I stepped into the room, three sets of doe eyes peered up at me. I walked over to them, wrapped up in a large towel.

  “Hello Miss,” they said in unison while bowing. They all looked like Sitre—same dark braided hair, olive skin, and mesmerizing lavender eyes.

  “I am Omri,” the tallest, and probably eldest told me. She had the air of maturity, but nothing in her features could ever give her away that was sure. Another stepped forward, the smallest of them. She set a silver chain into the steaming cup to steep, and then curtseyed again, decorously.

  “I’m Isha.” Now she did seem young. Her skin was smooth as a thirteen-year-old and her wide stare was full of innocence. I smiled at them both and waited as the third hovered nearby, her lenses narrowed. Isha abruptly nudged the girl with her elbow and the young woman hissed, shoving Isha out of the way. “Baqara!” Isha snarled at her. Whoa! Maybe, not so innocent? That was frightening.

  The other girl rolled her eyes and addressed me. “Khala,” she said to me sternly. She didn’t offer her hand. I stared at her meekly, captivated by the pools of violet, and the thread of a scar woven into her right brow. She tried to hide it. I wanted to tell her, the mark did nothing to diminish her beauty. I was half Egyptian but had yet to meet any other family members, even though I was almost an adult. This was the closest I’d ever been to my heritage in my life. These women looked like they were ready for ancient court. I didn’t know whether to be terrified by their authenticity, or be inspired by it. I felt both sentiments actually.

  “It’s nice to meet all of you,” I said. Then they began to work. Sitre pushed the bathroom door open, where jets still propelled waves of water around the tub.

  I left the bathroom a while later, my skin bright pink and my hair dripping wet. The women moved forward at warp speed and before I knew it, my towel had dropped and I was being gently tucked into a pair of light jeans, a fitted crème blouse and a shimmery grey hooded sweater.

  “These aren’t my clothes,” I said. They ignored me. I looked down contentedly at a pair of matching grey knee high boots near the bedpost. Isha slipped them on and latched each buckle. Between each lock there were touches of silvery fur. Everything was so stylish, and so borrowed. My suitcases remained tucked away beneath the bed; all my yoga pants, hoodies, fluffy socks, and few scant summer dresses undisturbed. Only my cropped leather jacket hung on a nearby chair, along with my ratty boots. Khala tried to disguise her wrinkled nose. Omri gave her a dirty look and held my arms out to inspect like a designer.

  “These come with the room, best to how do you say, go with the flow,” she chuckled.

  “Okay,” I said obediently and with a hidden grin. I definitely didn’t mind. I pranced to the vanity to give myself an honest appraisal. Looking like a model for one day wouldn’t be so dreadful! Omri took my hand in hers and placed a necklace inside them.

  “I know you’ll be careful with this,” she entrusted.

  “Whoa,” I gushed. “Uh, I shouldn’t…” I started, but she insisted. It was heavy, with sparkly jewels encrusted around the main stone, which was oblong shaped and reflected brilliantly in the light.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a true bloodstone, called the, Heart of Hekate,” Omri answered. She traced her delicate finger over my collarbone and clasped the necklace.

  “Hekate?”

  “A queen—one of Egypt’s first. The center was said to have been cut from her body here, where you see the influence of red. It was also said to have been given to Hekate, by Goddess Sek-met. The thin outer ring reflects Hekate’s mate, here, see the bright flecks of amber?”

  “And this part?” I asked, pointing to the surrounding stones.

  “Those are the guardians,” Omri glanced over her shoulder to the other maids. “The amethyst is for protection of the other two, which is why they surround the entire set,” she added.

  “This looks really old and really expensive, are you sure?”

  “It is for you now, a gift. It will protect you in darker times.” Omri’s foreboding words unnerved me. It was too generous but even as I protested, they insisted that I keep it and think nothing of it at all. I wasn’t exactly comfortable at receiving gifts, not even when it came to my own mother, but I decided to make an exception. It was after all an amazing piece and somehow, the moment I’d put it around my neck, I felt it belonged to me. I stroked my bronze cheek, and smiled at the hint of rose over the bone. I ran my fingers through my black hair, which they’d loosely curled and let fall to my waist. The most distinguishing change; however, was in my eyes. They were vivid hazel again, and very much alive. No more addict and no more tears. Not since before my father’s death had I seen this girl. I was glad she was back. I’d missed her.

  5. Doubts

  Sitre pointed me toward the dining hall though I was positive I’d get lost anyway. She exited after Omri in the opposite direction, leaving the other two girls behind. I watched Khala twist her arm in a cyclone to weave the last bed sheet. She moved gracefully as a leopard as she maneuvered around the priceless furniture and ebony sculptures. Khala barely bid me farewell— not so much as a nod. I moved out of her way to let her be. Isha leapt from my bedroom and practically flew to my side. Gathering our arms together like we were old friends.

  “Pay her no attention,” she warned. “She’s miserable most of time.” Isha’s lips tickled my ear.

  “I heard you!” Khala snapped back.

  “I was sure you did,” Isha replied slickly. Khala growled once before poking at a thick shard of wood in the parlor fireplace. The flames whipped out at her before steadying to a single stream. Isha wagged her finger at her sister. I worried Khala may take it clear from her hand, but she remained composed, conveniently keeping her face to the fire.

  “Are you going to ask her your question?” said Khala.

  Isha’s arm stiffened. “Why don’t you mind your own business!”

  “Ask her, ask her to teach
you about American boys and all that ridiculous nonsense you watch on your phone. I swear if I see it laying around I’ll toss it in the river Isha.”

  “Don’t you touch my phone you pig!”

  Khala rose to her feet and turned from the fireplace. She had a red hot poker in her hand. “She can’t teach you anything you don’t already know, don’t waste your time.”

  “I’m not a baby anymore, leave me alone,” Isha told her, taking me from the room and into the hall abruptly.

  “What was that about?” I asked as she shoved linens on a cart.

  Isha’s face fell. “She’s my sister, and,” she came to my side and whispered, “I hate her.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. Isha smiled and shook her head.

  “Who cares about Khala. Go to breakfast and maybe we can talk later?”

  “Sure, anytime Isha.”

  I left her there and made my way to the dining hall. It should’ve only been two turns according to Sitre’s directions, but I started to walk slower than usual, getting the distinct feeling I was already lost. From time to time I peeked over my shoulder, waiting for a medieval ghost to whirl past my head! The butterflies in my belly increased with each blind step. And then, I bumped into a cold, solid form. When I opened my eyes, Avati’s milky skin was shimmering in the minimal firelight of burning candles. Her shiny metallic lips parted slowly.

  “Buongiorno!” she gleamed. A bizarre echo trailed her voice, like it was produced by a synthesizer. I gave a shiver and was about to cover my ears when she held her arms out for a hug.

  “Oh,” I said, further caught off guard as she wrapped her cold arms around my shoulders. Avati kissed both my cheeks familiarly. “I thought you had to stay in London?” I asked, remembering how she’d took off after we landed.

  “Finito, I am finished there. Now I will spend my time here, with you,” she answered without an echo of any kind, thank God.

  “Time to eat,” Isis called, appearing quite literally from nowhere. Her pearl dress draped to the floor and she twirled it absently. Her bare feet were smooth and perfect and decorated with thin bands of silver anklets. Not staring was virtually impossible so I gave up the effort all together. I followed behind her and Avati, toward the smell of heavenly spices and the invigorating scent of coffee beans. I heard voices filing out from the hall. We moved faster to the light sounds of dishes clanking and the sharp din of ice dropping into glasses. Anchille, Ashmolean and Khan sat at the excessively long dining table, the top of which was decorated with an ornate beaded runner, fine crystal, sterling goblets and candelabras. Three luxurious bouquets were placed near the two heads and in the center of the table as well. The high-backed velvet chairs were spaced a foot and a half apart and there were twelve in all. Extras sat ready in the faraway corners of the room, beneath the twenty foot panes. Outside the sky was bland and grey and not at all welcoming. Isis gave me a squeeze as she signaled for Avati and me to take our places. Khan peeked around the cushion of his seat, his expression aberrant.

  “Hi.”

  “Hello everyone,” I answered all politely, still unsure of how to “dine” in a grand hall. For me it was an alien concept. It wouldn’t have been had I not daydreamed through all my prior instruction. Aside from my mother’s dinner parties, and holidays, I ate à la carte most nights. Behind closed doors my mom and I were more down home than our wealthy suburban contemporaries and I at least, was proud of it. Khan’s small lips pursed together. Across from him, Ash toyed with a spear of banana. I thought I saw his nose crinkle in disgust at the small yellow sliver. It’d already begun to brown.

  “Sit down!” Khan ordered me.

  “Don’t boss please,” Anchille reprimanded him.

  “Sorry Daddy,” Khan offered a guilty grin. I got the sense the little guy apologized frequently. It made me feel sorry for him. He had no filter, of any kind—poor thing.

  “S’ok,” I said, more for him, as I took my seat.

  Rinalde—who I’d learned served not only as the Bhari’s butler, as well as the head chef— pushed a metal serving cart through a swinging door. Steam escaped from the covered dishes, dispersing a glistening sheen of sweat over his fair, creased forehead. He wiped it away with his crisp white coat sleeve and bowed submissively as staff began to serve us. Again I felt a tad out of place, due to the overabundance of servants and formality. I didn’t mind it really—who would—but it was a bit much—I mean I think I could manage putting my own napkin in my lap and stirring honey into my tea. I bumped Rinalde’s elbow softly and gave him a wink. He stopped pouring and blinked at me. Oops. I met Isis’ perforating gaze with unease. Was it bad table manners to acknowledge the staff? If it was, then the Bhari’s were definitely not my people and I would have to seriously consider whether to stay or not. Even when my parents hired workers to serve at our parties, my mother and I both jumped in to help. That was the stock she and I came from, and no amount of wealth or social standing would ever change that. Besides, my nani would have rattled my backside if I ever started acting snobby, like some of my other Shore cronies.

  “Do you have all that you need Lina?” Isis asked me. She was holding her chin over her fingers.

  “Yes. Thank you Rinalde,” I told him graciously. His ruddy cheeks enlivened a hair, not much, but enough that I knew he wasn’t an abused puppet.

  “Mademoiselle, I pray you enjoy every bite, as well as your stay here in The Lakes,” he replied with his own slow wink. He wasn’t very smooth at it, but we could work on that. I liked him, already, in those first few seconds. He was normal and normal was good. Rinalde placed three silver dishes at my setting and revealed them one by one. The first was some sort of bean paste with sparse green leaves and spices in a traditional wrap. Next was a plate of thinly shaved meat, hummus and oil. Three spears of pickle lay over the olive dip along with two wedges of crusty rosemary flavored bread. The third was a more Americanized feast of dates, grapes, melon and a dish of vanilla yogurt with three silver dollar pancakes oozing golden maple down their sides. I felt my face brighten at the prospect of the indulgent meal and I inhaled them each with relish. Back home I’d never dream of pigging out like this; however, I wasn’t at home currently. This was a five pound added dream come true.

  “Rinalde, you’re the poo!” I squealed, trying to high five my new friend but he missed the compliment entirely. I glanced around at everyone. Rinalde’s face was blank.

  “Pardon?” he said. I was about to answer for my outdated slang and lack of manners but Anchille interjected coughing into his napkin.

  “It’s an old expression Rinalde, like ‘You’re very cool’ or ‘You’re the best!’” Anchille explained in amusement. The elder man puzzled a few moments. Finally, he roared with laughter.

  “Ah, je suis la merde!” Rinalde snorted, flashing me a crooked grin before turning in the direction of the kitchen. Two of the young staff stood waiting on either side as he passed, tossing his finger up at them. “I, am the poo!” he announced haughtily. They smirked to each other and rolled their eyes before returning to the kitchen.

  “I feel stupid now,” I said, shrinking.

  “No need Lina, please, enjoy,” said Anchille.

  I glanced over the first large crystal plate and felt the familiar tingle in my jaw, the yearning in my belly. As I prepared to devour my food, I sensed several eyes on me. When I looked up, no one was watching at all. Isis seemed more entranced in the swirls of platinum etched in her setting, than in the actual food itself. Anchille consumed some of his dish but with no more enthusiasm than his wife, and the children, my God, the children were by far behaving the strangest. Neither had even touched his meal and seemed ambivalent to even take on the venture. Truthfully, they looked like the zombie faces in my A.P English class, at the height of a Hawthorne classic—rigor mortis would soon set in. I peered carefully at Avati, who sat directly next to me. She too, was stiff as a board; the only movement was her pale white hand, mildly twisting an escargot fork in her tahini
and hummus. What the hell?! I thought. It took me a second to realize, I’d exclaimed aloud.

  Everyone stared.

  “Lina?” Anchille sat upright, his cool eyes glued to my face.

  “I’m sorry! Excuse me,” I said quick as I tugged at the neck of my shirt. I felt like I was choking to death. Something felt off, way off! I cringed inside, unsure if I was about to faint or not. I couldn’t believe I’d just freaked out like that, and sworn in front of Ash and Khan. Nice au pair I was turning out to be—having stupid nightmares, nearly giving myself a concussion and now I couldn’t even get through my second meal!

  “You need to drink something perhaps?” he said. They’d poisoned me! I wasn’t going to drink anything they offered. I’d been poisoned. They were not eating! Jamie was right. I was going to end up hog tied in the basement, with a smelly gag in my mouth.

  “Mmm, I don’t feel good,” I muttered. I leaned over the edge of the table, gripping my seat for support. I still felt their damned eyes on me.

  “Lina, please try to eat something.” Isis ate then. She encouraged the others to do the same.

  Finally, I braved a sip of coffee. It tasted normal enough. Could a person taste poison? I took another small sip, scrutinizing. Then, I envisioned Soundgarden’s video Black Hole Sun. It played like a silent movie in my head and I waited for my hosts’ faces to peel back from their lids! Avati who, having moved on to pricking her lamb with the tip of her serrated knife, was too still in her chair. I couldn’t stop staring at her either, though she kept her face hidden behind a curtain of black hair. I hadn’t even noticed the awful mess of syrup I’d made; the glistening amber goo had spilled over the linen tablecloth and part of the runner. I tried nonchalantly covering it with my hand, and heard subsequent giggles from Ash and Khan. Beads of sweat were resting over my brow.

  “I didn’t get any sleep last night,” I said, trying to clean up the mess.

  “Oh dear, we feel awful about that, don’t we Anchille?” Isis moved her chair from the table and crossed her long legs. “What can we do to put you at ease?”

  “Nothing, really I’m fine. Time change,” I frowned. “I just need to, adjust.”

  “That’s perfectly reasonable and we will all try our best to make the transition smoother for you, starting with having the grounds searched for whatever animal you saw outside your window. We can’t have you becoming frightened, especially since our home is so new and strange to you.”

  Understatement of the friggin century.

  “Thank you, but I’m sure my mind was just running wild. I’d had a really off dream just before hand.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s dumb.”

  “No,” offered Anchille, “it’s not Lina.”

  “I’m feeling a lot of different emotions right now and maybe that dream was my brain’s way of, working it all out. Things were fairly rocky back home. That’s weighing on me too I guess.”

  “Anything we can do?” asked Isis.

  Give me a new heart, so mine won’t feel broken.

  “No.”

  “Lina.”

  “Seriously, I appreciate the offer I really do, you all are amazing. There’s nothing to do but wait it out.”

  “Is it a boy?” Avati asked intuitively. Thank God I hadn’t a mouthful of food I would have spit it across the table.

  “There was, yep. How’d you guess?”

  She didn’t answer that but asked, “What’s his name?”

  “Jamie.” Well that felt like a hockey puck to the face. My eyes filled with reluctant tears.

  “Oh, forgive me,” she said, not to me but to Isis who leaned forward and slid Avati a rose colored tissue which the assistant handed to me. I dabbed my eyes.

  “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she offered in humiliation. I was shaking my head while blotting. “It’s okay.”

  “It must have been serious,” Isis speculated.

  “Yeah, it was.” I finished fixing what I could of my face and then leaned back in the chair. I didn’t look up because I was too busy picking at the corner of the napkin.

  “Time heals all wounds Lina, you remember that,” Isis offered.

  “Yeah.” I agreed amiably. Deep down I knew, atonement was a long shot.

  “How did you leave things with Jamie?” Avati interrupted softly. Her cool hand was over my thigh.

  “I told him I couldn’t marry him. We broke up.” There was a deafening silence. Anchille had Khan in his lap and Ash was in the chair next to them. Both boys looked serious and not so bored anymore. I couldn’t imagine why—the conversation to me was too adult not to mention trivial to my employment duties. I was desperate to shift the focus off myself and back to the tasks at hand but Avati would have otherwise.

  “He proposed?” she questioned with high brows. “But, you’re so young.”

  “I guess.”

  “Four years together; he must be heartbroken,” she observed openly. My soul crumpled into my belly.

  “Vati!” Isis lectured her. I appreciated that. The woman didn’t know me or my situation to have been so forward in the first place.

  “I’m sure he is, and so am I, but…I want to think of it as an exchange—one life for another.” It was how I had to view it. If I didn’t, I would die. I glanced at Isis and then across the table to Anchille. “Could you take the children out of here for a moment?” I asked. Isis stared at her husband and then she motioned for Avati to gather Ash and K. When they were out of hearing range I spoke openly to my hosts.

  “Listen, I’m not a killer, or kidnapper, or child molester, or a thief, so you’ve got nothing to worry about with me being here,” I said firmly, squaring my shoulders. I might’ve been a little neurotic—post break up—but I was a good person. Isis and Anchille met eyes only a fraction of a second before I started begging. “I want this job. I need this job. I will do anything you ask me to do, just so long as you let me stay here with you.” I couldn’t stand how they were looking at me, because I knew I really was that wretched a creature.

  “Lina,” Isis said in such a maternally, worried way. I bit my lip.

  “I can’t go back to Chicago,” I motioned, looking to the floor. It felt like it took eons for them to respond.

  “No one even proposed such ridiculousness,” Isis finally answered. My head popped up.

  “We’d never dream of suspecting you dear,” Anchille confirmed. “Contract or no contract, you are welcome, for as long as it pleases you.”

  “Really?” I was shocked.

  “Of course.”

  “Oh,” I murmured, feeling sorta silly.

  Even though it was feeling a little Stepford all over the place, I wasn’t ready to fly home to face the music yet. I knew my instincts weren’t off base, they rarely ever were—the Bhari’s were definitely a different lot. The mansion was, to put it mildly, reminiscent of the Stanley Hotel, a la The Shining. Not to mention, I was seeing my deader than dead grandmother—never a good sign. All this and I hadn’t glimpsed a single employment form, no W2, and no health plan. It was the single most bizarre start to a job I’d ever had. Was that reason enough to doubt?

  Avati brought the children back in. This time their faces were even more grossed out by their food. Ash poked the banana which had morphed into brown mush. Khan formed his seasoned potatoes into what looked like a volcano. His face was devious, like any minute he would start an air raid, but I was positive, by the effect their mother had on them, he wouldn’t actually do it. Anchille suggested we adjourn to the foyer to await the boys tutor, and then entreated me to join him and Isis on a tour. Later they exited the hall with Ash and Khan, flitting behind them. They were practically floating over the floor. It was so blatant that I had to rub my eyes, to make sure I was seeing correctly. I could sense my face whitening.

  “Coming?” asked Avati, who lightly pressed my pinkie with hers. My body felt like I was being held by steel cables to the seat, but I accepted.
<
br />   6. Final Call

  As we walked the corridor I grew more anxious. My heart was racing because of it. I tried to casually wipe my balmy hands on my pant legs while everyone congregated beneath the chandelier. Ash and Khan were play fighting again, only this time their bodies were more fluid, more entwined—like they were the same person, moving in sync to the sway of the shadows and light music. Isis, Anchille, and Avati were huddled together, seemingly having a conversation, though I’d yet to see their mouths move. I felt sick all over, and it wasn’t because I’d eaten too much. My stomach churned as my mind did battle with what I thought was real and what might actually be true. I couldn’t speak my fears because I hadn’t given them a name—I only knew the truth was coming. I uttered the only request that came to mind and what would release me from having to spend the next few seconds with them—a brief reprieve to sort out my head.

  “Could I make a phone call?” Oh my God! Why did I ask that?! They know I have a cell phone! The three of them gaped at me. I was agitated, a crazy person—I didn’t care. I wanted to talk to my mom. “I forgot mine, my cell, in my room, please, it’ll only take a few minutes?” I was a complete freak. It showed, in all their faces.

  With marked curiosity, Isis replied, “There is a telephone Lina, in the parlor. Down the hall, first door on your right,” she pointed.

  “Er, thanks.” I nodded to her curtly and practically lunged away. I could feel their quizzical stares, but I didn’t look back. I ducked into the lavish sitting room and closed the door. I stood with my back against the frame and closed my eyes, feeling momentary relief. When I opened them, I saw my mission, on an end table near twin ivory couches. I rushed to sit down and took a slow breath. The room was a blinding white, with gold crown molded ceilings, white chairs and rugs, even the pillows were stitched in ivory and dressed with chrome and gold beading. Beneath a lone chandelier sat a pianoforte, in the color, white. It had slender black accent keys and a proud bench. It was really pretty, and under normal circumstances, I might actually enjoy it, but not today My hands rest in my lap, my leg jittered as I deliberated over my call. Finally, I reached for the receiver, gripped it so tightly in my fist I thought its delicate surface might splinter. I asked myself if I was doing the right thing. I lifted the phone to my ear. What could my mother do for me really? She was thousands of miles away, safe in our little cul-de-sac of Tudor Place. I spun the dial, thinking of what I might say to her.

  “Hello?” said a male voice. Oh, oh no! It was Jamie. I called, Jamie. I couldn’t breathe! Crap! I pressed my free hand to my lips to keep from making a sound. Why did I do that?!

  “Hello?” he asked again. His complete pause after that told me, he knew this was no telemarketer. “Lina?” he finally ventured. Jamie paused, his breath grew shallow. “It’s you isn’t?” He waited. I stayed mute, baring the burn in my throat, even as heat filled my cheeks. Tears were close behind. “Something’s wrong,” he announced perceptively. Dammit. “What is it? You wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.” He sounded desperate for me to respond. “Tell me what it is, whatever it is, maybe I can help. I m—.”

  I pressed the button. I cut him off.

  Staring at my compressed thumb I realized that I’d lost my one lifeline. That single act took my self-loathing to a whole new level. I’d made such a mess of things, and the fact that in this moment he neither cared nor seemed angered by that, was unacceptable. But, that was Jamie: loyal, reverent. My insides ached; I gripped the arm of the couch as I placed the phone back on the stand. Out in the foyer a new guest had arrived. I assumed it was the boys’ tutor, which meant that Isis and Anchille would want to start that tour soon. I began to curse and reach for the phone once more. I knew if I stalled long enough, I would end up playing an infuriating game of dial-and-hang-up or more pathetically, I might dial, listen for Jamie’s voice and then hang up! What was wrong with me?! I didn’t need to ask that. I knew what was wrong. I was flailing in an unknown direction, one I had no control over and Jamie happened to be the one person in the world, who always caught my ankles midair without fail. I’d released him back into the world without me by his side. What did it matter anyway? He’d probably flung that engagement ring straight into Lake Michigan and good riddance. But then why had his voice sounded frantic to hear from me? I pressed my finger to my temple to relieve the unforgiving throb

  “Ahem—Problems?” A husky voice called out. I whirled around to see Thomas, sprawled languorously over a velvet couch.

  “Where the hell did you come from?”

  “The door,” he replied sarcastically, while gnawing on what looked like a partially meaty bone. I had to adjust my vision, to make sure I’d seen him correctly. Yes, he was there and his chin was moist and glistening. He looked like a lion perched over a dinner table!

  “I didn’t hear you come in?” I admitted.

  “No. You didn’t.”

  There was awkward silence while we stared at each other. I stopped looking at him and focused on his grotesque meal. “What are you eating?” I asked impolitely. I could smell whatever it was he had devoured and it reeked like the fresh marrow bones my mom and I give our two Siberians. I tried not to gag.

  “I’m eating my breakfast,” he said with a broad, uncivilized grin. He took another chomp and I grimaced. His dark hair was in disarray, along with his filthy chin, but his skin was glowing. As I inched closer, I noticed layers of dirt beneath his nails and to make matters worse, his feet were bare and muddy. What did this guy do all night?

  “Where have you been?” I asked, looking disapprovingly at his dirty jeans, sloughed over the marble floors.

  “Out and about,” he said, tossing his head back nonchalantly.

  “Why didn’t you come to the dining hall?”

  “I prefer to get my own food.”

  “You know, eggs, some bacon, on a plate maybe, that would be good too,” I mocked, holding two fingers over my nose. Honestly that bone stunk to high Heaven. He looked like a damn dog. He’d probably growl possessively over it if anyone tried to take it!

  “Good one!” Thomas burst out laughing, his huge body all but toppled off the delicate white sofa. He tossed the bone into the fire with accurate precision—he was more than twenty feet away. My eyes bulged in surprise while his face remained very, smug. I fanned another silent complaint. “Hmm, yum!” he groaned while giving his taut belly a pat. He was about to pick his teeth with a splinter until I grunted sternly. Thomas gave me an impatient nod and lodged it into the fire as well. He gave his pearls a once over with his tongue instead.

  “So,” he boomed, stretching out his enormous back. “Miss Lina,” he opened condescendingly. “Who were you maybe or maybe not going to call?”

  “Huh?” I stuttered. Thomas leapt over to me, conveniently avoiding scuffing any of the fine furniture with his grubby clothes. In the glittering light of the parlor his eyes were vivid amber, identical to the stones in my necklace, which he very quickly assessed with keen interest.

  “Ahh,” he taunted playfully, reaching for my neck with his giant hand. “You got a gift I see.” He fondled the bauble until I snatched it from his fingers and stepped back.

  “It’s from Omri!” I snapped. He recoiled. “She gave it to me and…” I sighed. “It was private, my call.”

  “You can tell me, I’m a friend,” he suggested. There was humor behind his gaze. Suddenly, I felt like punching him. Thomas’ lip curled into an irritating smirk.

  “You’re crowding me,” I warned him, despite feeling defenseless. He had that affect.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he announced, watching my feet inch their way across the marble floor. “I live here. It’s not like I was stalking you.” He lowered his head—the pout was insincere; I was almost certain of it.

  “I’m not, I mean…I never said I was afraid!” That was a lie of course because I was afraid. It just hadn’t occurred to me, until the moment, that I should fear Thomas.

  “B
uddies then?” Thomas held out his mitt. I paused. He frowned and this time I couldn’t tell if it was a charade. I huffed and walked to him, reaching my tiny hand to his. He shook it hard like he would an equally sized man.

  “I better go,” I said.

  “Alright then,” he replied. I turned and headed for the door. Before I could reach it he added, “It was your boyfriend, wasn’t?” I whirled around and glared at him. He was pawing the light stubble of his chin, still mocking me. Who was this person?! What was the point of him? I would recant my prior offer. I could not be friendly with Thomas. He was an arrogant ass. I balled my small fist, strode back to him, all the while withdrawing my arm. His laughter was clamorous. “Oh stop! What do you propose to do with—?” He stumbled back in shock, holding his throat. “You hit me!” he exclaimed. I didn’t think I really got him, I’d had to lunge into the air practically to reach, and at that I was aiming for his nose. I coddled my wrist because the impact had bent it back and it was throbbing. Thomas came for me and I dashed behind the sofa, closest to the exit. He stood still, his nostrils flaring. I jutted out my chin.

  “You deserved it, probably for a long time.”

  He pointed down to my locked fingers. “But you punched me, in the throat, honestly! Who does that?!” He shrieked, as if I were the one with poor manners.

  “You provoked me,” I reminded him, inching to the door.

  “You’re insane,” he remarked with a low grumble. “I was only making conversation.”

  “Your skills need work.”

  Thomas softened and then he sighed. “I’m sorry, really, okay? Can I do anything?”

  “Yeah, leave me alone,” I begged him.

  A sly grin crept over his face. “Can’t.”

  “Why not?” I asked him exasperatedly. I couldn’t tuck my own smile before he’d seen it.

  “You were about to cry, and I suspect it was for a very good reason.” That did it. He’d gone too far. Tears filled my eyes without permission and then he did feel awful. There was no hiding the under belly of his remorse this time.

  “Come on, come here. I was only teasing.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  “No, you’re right. I apologize.”

  I glanced at his stained black t-shirt and wrinkled jeans and realized, he’d been everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. He pulled up my chin so that I had to look at him. He was smiling a pleading smile so I wouldn’t be pissed with him anymore. This wouldn’t be the last time we fought, I was positive.

  “You’re annoying,” I confirmed irritably. He silently agreed. “And you’re dirty.” He leaned down to the top of my head and inhaled long. I tensed as his eyes grew dark, and then I heard him moan low.

  “You are very clean,” he observed. His eyes flickered over my head to the door. We were no longer alone in the parlor. “Quick, it’s the fun police!” Thomas twirled me around in time to see his brother.

  “Get out of here!” Charles barked back at him. Thomas gave him a tepid glance and finally stepped away from me.

  “I guess I’ll take my leave then. Lina,” Thomas said from the side and with a smug nod. I heard him whisper as he passed, “That call?” I only blinked at him. “I wouldn’t make it if I were you.” I was left staring after him vacantly. “Missed you this morning!” he snorted, socking Charles in the arm as he passed.

  “You stink,” Charles growled, tightening his eyes. “Isis will kill you if she sees you in here, GET OUT!” Thomas simply smiled pleasantly before he sauntered off. Charles looked positively revolted as he shook his head. He bent down to wipe the brown scuffs Thomas’s’ feet had made on the immaculate floor. He stuck his head out into the hall.

  “Thomas, this will not come out!” Charles cursed at him. I walked over to look too before hearing Thomas cry back.

  “You’ll take care of it big bro. You’re the one who loves to play fetching hound to the king and queen!”

  “You shut up! Go back to the cabin where you belong, ingrate!” he roared. Thomas waved his hand behind his head before swinging Ash and Khan in his arms. Then he made a quick exit, saying nothing to the others at all. Charles and I popped back into the parlor to assess the floor.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I asked as politely as I could. Charles groaned. “Is he really that much of a creep, or is it an act?” I couldn’t say his behavior really surprised me all that much—most guys who looked that good were jerks.

  “I like to think it’s an act, but he’s been like that since we were children,” he answered honestly. “Did he hurt your feelings?”

  “No!” I retorted fast. By his expression it was too fast. “He was, typical.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Typical?”

  “Like lots of guys I know.” All except one.

  “Oh,” Charles said musingly. “Not all men behave crudely Lina. And for what it’s worth, Thomas has a good heart…however buried beneath the selfish, callous exterior.”

  “I guess,” I shrugged. He smiled at me, and then returned his attention to his work.

  “I believe Isis and Anchille are ready for you now,” he announced, without looking up as he continued rubbing the floor raw.

  “Charles?” I reached for his shoulder and gave it a slight poke.

  “Yes?” he said. I waited, then I reached for his free hand to pull him up. He seemed reluctant despite his warm, inviting fingers and skin. He kept his head down and away so I moved my own body to get in his eye-line. He averted me once more.

  “Look at me,” I ordered softly. He ran his hand through his wavy black hair. When he looked up again his eyes were golden citron against the blue of his shirt. And then he too, eyed the antique heirloom at my throat. I grabbed it with one hand and covered it protectively. I didn’t know why. I watched the subtle change of Charles’ eyes and this time there was no denying the slight ocular alteration. I’d seen all their eyes fluctuate plenty since my arrival, but had attributed it to the tenebrous lighting of the mansion. But this was no trick of a shadow, no mistaken blur of my own vision. His eyes had changed almost instantaneously, and seemed to do so by his shift in mood. I leaned in to look at them more closely. They were large and soulful, like a deer’s, and it was that flash of recognition, between the hunter and the hunted. But why was he afraid, and of me no less? I peered harder.

  “Don’t,” he said in a pleading voice.

  “Don’t what?” I said, still holding onto him.

  “Lina,” he gently scooted me with his large hands. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he and his brother were born of giants.

  In half a second Charles had maneuvered both our bodies to the wall, my back was pressed against it and his hands had my wrists pinned securely. I stared at him a little frightened but quickly knew, he meant me no harm. It was the benevolent lenses staring back at me. He was only trying to restrain me, but why? What didn’t he want me to see?

  “I need to know the truth Charles?” I demanded in a low voice.

  “I don’t know what you m—?” he started to say.

  “Don’t lie!” I protested vehemently and as I struggled beneath him, his hands gripped me harder.

  “Lina?” I heard someone call from the opposite side of the door. I urged him quietly to tell me fast. “Lina? Are you finished?”

  “You have to go, they’re waiting,” he pushed.

  “Hurry then, tell me!”

  “Lina…please.” Charles grimaced and then without warning he released me and moved away. He leaned against the back of the couch and there was a long dead pause. Outside the voices stopped and only a whisper followed, telling the others that I must still be in my call. I only had seconds.

  “I know something isn’t right in this house Charles, I can feel it!” My head dropped when he didn’t answer. “I’m afraid.”

  “You’ve no need to be,” he said soothingly, but as soon as I glanced up at him I knew his words were false. My throat grew tight. “I could lose my position. Believe me when I tell
you that life for me could be so much worse than it is here.”

  “Thomas said you’re quite the servant, doing favors for the Bhari’s, is that right? Is this like a, underground sex slavery thing?” I was freaking out. I didn’t know what to do. All I could think is, what had I gotten myself into and how could I quickly get out of it. Who knew what these people were capable of, hiring innocent girls from other countries under the guise of employment only to throw them into prostitution after. When he didn’t answer I began backing away, my arms hiding my body like a shield.

  “It’s nothing like that, don’t be ridiculous!” His brows furrowed.

  “It’s not an unreasonable assumption. It happens every day,” I told him.

  “This is insane, you’re not in any danger.”

  “Okay well if it isn’t that, what is it? Are they going to hurt me a different way? God, just tell me!” I pleaded. “I’m not really here to be Ash and Khan’s nanny, am I?”

  His face jumped but he said nothing. I only nodded solemnly as I reached for the door. “I grew up in New York Charles. I know enough of danger. If it’s half as bad as the look on your face, then it’s time for me to leave.” I quickly assessed in my head where my things were. I thought of booking a flight and getting to London as quickly as possible. I could be home by tonight and then…

  “You can’t leave!”

  I whirled around to stare him in the eye. “The hell I can’t!”

  “Lina, go now and be with Isis and Anchille, let them help you,” he begged.

  “Help me! Help me what exactly?” I cried.

  “I can’t, don’t you understand that I can’t. It isn’t our place to interfere, please Lina. They’re waiting. Go to them. I implore you,” he finally begged. I lowered my shoulders in defeat and made my way. It was clear where his loyalties lied. I looked back once before Charles closed the double doors on me slowly. I walked out to meet Isis and Anchille, with my hands trembling at my sides and my heart pounding.

  “There you are love! Is everything alright?” asked Anchille.

  “No,” I said at first, but then I mended, “I mean, I’ll have to call back later.” They looked at me skeptically. Did they know I’d not been alone? Had they heard the things Charles and I had said? I prayed not.

  “We’d like you to meet someone,” said Anchille, taking me further into their standing circle. “This is Ahkmenotep, Isis and my dear friend and Ash and Khan’s tutor.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” the grey-eyed man bowed kindly. Behind him, Khan paraded around in his man-sized fedora, with a very serious look on his chubby face. Everyone chuckled as Ahkmenotep reached down and picked him up. “You wear it like this little one,” he told him, propping the hat over his massive curls. “There now, you are a distinguished gentleman.” Everyone laughed as the he put the baby to the floor once more.

  “Why do three-year-old’s need a tutor?” I asked. Everyone was brought up short by my tone. Ash and Khan froze their play, looking up at me with unfathomably wide grey eyes and sharp pearly teeth. I realized that instant, I was afraid of them too. I could finally admit that to myself. I was scared of everyone in this house. I tried to remember, that out of my entire family, I was the sanest, the most rational—still, mental illness did run in our veins, or so I’d been told. Could I just be having a meltdown? That was plausible, wasn’t it? Come to think of it, wasn’t Linora’s sister schizophrenic? I felt a rap to my backside that came out of thin air. I didn’t bother looking around because no one in this realm was the culprit. I sent an apology mentally to my grandmother.

  “Ash and Khan learn very quickly Lina. Public instruction, wouldn’t...suit,” offered Isis a little curtly. I gave her a repentant nod while trying to find my damn grandma in the empty air.

  You were admitted to a psychiatric ward grandma. Maybe we’re all certifiable, me included! Ahkmenotep stepped to me and extended his hand. I barely reciprocated because Linora was hovering unbeknownst to my party, around the tutor’s shoulder. She was glaring at me. I was beyond mortified.

  If you aren’t going to answer me then, please, go away, I begged her from inside my mind.

  You’re not crazy bébé, now, pay attention! she snipped at me before dematerializing.

  Her words didn’t fill me with confidence. She had been shipped off to an institution. I retained the memory fairly vividly. What had they called it back in the day, a vacation? Linora and all her kin had had many run ins with the law in Louisiana. For my father it was a topic not to be discussed. Only once did my mother allow for a slip, and it was enough of a mental picture for me to understand voodoo and its place in my ancestry. Ahkmenotep put his hand on my shoulder mid-thought.

  “Will you be joining us today?” he asked, trying to follow my gaze that was still focused upward. I shivered and shook my head.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I said. He smelled of expensive cologne and his nails were cleaner than mine. Just what kind of teacher was he, dressed impeccably, from his crisp white collared shirt and charcoal suit, right down to his patent leather dress shoes? Avati moved forward, like she was about to snatch his hand clear from his wrist.

  “She’s going with Isis and Anchille,” she told him brusquely. Ahkmenotep’s slate eyes flashed at her. I swore I heard the undercurrent of hissing but then he only chuckled politely.

  “Perhaps we’ll get acquainted later then,” he told me.

  “Sure,” I muttered. Sure why not, it didn’t appear I would be freed any time soon. Anchille took his friend by the arm in kind.

  “Ahkmen,” he encouraged with a physical prompt. The man winked at me as he passed. Ash and Khan trailed behind, giving me such mournful looks. Avati took her leave and Isis and I began to ascend the stairs together, with Anchille behind. I felt my stomach curl into a hideous knot. My body trembled and the whining sound I continued to make was even worse…hysterical. Isis turned in flight; her eyes colder, distant. They bored into mine, two orbs of liquid fire.

  “Stay close,” she said flat. Then she moved ahead so fast, my vision blurred again. Anchille joined his wife on the landing while I stood in shock, gripping the railing for support. My host was about to open the arched doors in front of us, until Isis stopped him.

  “Anchille, `innaha madheura,” she spoke in a manner that I hadn’t heard before. Her voice sounded urgent, distressed.

  “Hmm?” he asked, peering over his shoulder.

  “Lina,” Isis said carefully. I squinted, bracing myself for some awful blow. As Anchille approached, I leaned my body over the edge of the railing. I saw the fall of thirty feet I was toying with. It wasn’t a viable escape.

  “Don’t,” I warned, seriously contemplating jumping. He stopped abruptly then, kept his hands clasped in front of him. His smile appeared amused. “I don’t know what you want from me?”

  “How do you mean?” he asked curiously, taking another step closer.

  “Stop, please!” I cried out, raising my palm to him.

  “Anchille, she believes she is in danger,” said Isis. I sputtered back at her.

  “Aren’t I!?”

  “Have we given you that impression?” Anchille asked.

  “Are you kidding me?! This place! The walls, the whispers, and...” I pointed at them, “your eyes!” Neither responded. “Howling wolves, your children; for God’s sake, what is wrong with them? What the hell is going on?”

  “Lina,” Anchille finally spoke, and dropped his hands, stepping back from me.

  “I want to know, now!” I told them. Isis grey eyes turned silver then black. I howled at her. “See!”

  “We can explain,” offered Anchille.

  “Good, you do that. I’ll call the police!”

  “There’s no reason for that,” said Isis.

  “Lina, come into the library and we shall explain,” Anchille extended a pale hand.

  “No,” I told him. “How about you tell me here?” I clutched the railing so hard my nails felt they may snap clear from
the cuticle.

  “Please,” he entreated once more. “When we’ve finished, you will be free to make your own decision about whether to stay or to leave. Are we agreed?” he asked. I deliberated. “We will answer any of your questions Lina, you have my word.” Anchille’s eyes flamed, and remarkably I began to waiver.

  How quickly my elated happiness had faded into terror. And although my feet yearned to leap, to run as fast and as far as I could go without turning back, I accepted.

  7. Skeletons

  I entered the most extravagant, three story library I’d ever seen. All the books were arranged in sort of an oval shape, and spanned the entire room, top to bottom. Wood columns held them in place and there were rolling ladders and walkways going all the way around. At the far end was a winding iron staircase, which led to an upper, double pane window as large as a balcony door. On the ceiling was a massive oil painting, done in rich warm colors and featuring the pyramids of Egypt, with farmers toiling along the Nile. The library was dark, apart from the flickering candles and the fireplace. Outside a storm had begun, branches whipped violently against the glass—the rain pattered like spoons on a tin roof. Lightning flashed, illuminating the sky for a fraction of a second before leaving us in darkness. I shivered and headed straight for a velvet couch closest to the heat and sat down. Anchille pulled the gold chain of a desk lamp in the corner, which provided a bit more light, but not much. I waited for either of them to speak. Isis reached for a cashmere throw that lay on an abandoned chair in a cobwebbed corner. She handed it to me as she took a seat near the fireplace too. It was chilly despite the burn of the fiery embers.

  “Are you comfortable?” she asked.

  “Really?” I started laughing. My physical comfort was furthest from my mind.

  “I meant, are you warm enough?”

  “Yeah.” I sounded rude. I didn’t care.

  Wrapped in the blanket I went to the floor globe in the center of the room. I spun it, unconsciously trailing my finger directly over the tiny coral shape of Illinois. It seemed so far from me now, like an imaginary place. I sighed and took my seat again. To the left of us a round table was overflowing with artifacts: leather bound pamphlets, golden laced books, faded hieroglyphs on stone tablets, even mini figurines of black ivory gods, which they were using as paper weights to hold the hoard. I decided then, I wouldn’t touch the relics. I would only sit, and observe and listen. I was raised to be objective and I would give them that courtesy. They’d taken me in, given me beautiful accommodations and fed me—I would at the very least remain civil. I felt an ethereal approval from grandmother. I didn’t know why she insisted that I listen but perhaps her residing on the other side, gave her a glimpse into this world that I couldn’t possibly see. I truly hoped so. Anchille took his place next to me and I thought, here we go, point of no return. This was when they would tell me some dire secret of theirs that would inadvertently change my mind about them—if it wasn’t already. I could tell by the moroseness displayed over their faces that the news was not great. By the looks of them, it would devastate. I started picking at my trusty nail.

  “Lina,” said Anchille.

  “Yes?” I answered, on guard.

  “In the car, when Thomas asked you—”

  “About my name,” I finished for him. “What about it?”

  “Did your mother ever tell you the story of Ahmose, why they decided to name you after her?”

  “Figured I was cursed,” I shrugged absently.

  Anchille chuckled as he brought his hand to his lips. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

  “Waqalat `innaha takhshaa lana,” Isis said to Anchille, who frowned. I didn’t have to understand Arabic to know that she was talking about me. It was becoming infuriating.

  “I’m sitting right here; you don’t need to do that. I know you have something you want to say, so say it, get it over with,” I spat. It was unconscious and I could already hear my grandma scolding me. It was impolite and un-cultured to speak to one’s elders disrespectfully. “Sorry.”

  “We need for you to know you are not in any danger,” said Anchille.

  “Okay.” A cool breeze shot overhead, whistling among the tranquil artifacts and I trembled.

  Isis pointed to the large relic Anchille had pulled into his lap. “Ariha Anchille, show her the book,” she sighed. He cracked it open and it shook beneath his pale brown hands. The weathered binding rippled.

  “Wha…what’s that?” I asked, still gazing overhead. I could sense Linora, hovering above me, watching me—she was watching all of us. The candles on the coffee table puffed and smoked. Anchille perused a few sections of the book, paying no attention to the feel of the room or to my apparent neuroses. Finally, he settled on one shimmery gold page and when he did the glass rattled, making documents about the library scatter to the floor. I pulled up the blanket. Nani, stop it, I told her with my mind. I could have sworn Isis’ eyes followed my silent words into the air.

  “I’m going to show you something Lina. It might surprise you, it may even upset you but you must trust that there is good reason for all that is to be revealed,” Anchille began.

  “Kay,” I exhaled.

  “Do you recognize this couple?”

  I stared at the picture. I knew my grandmother right away. “It’s my grandma.” I’d seen photos of her this young only a handful of times, but the man she was with, the man with his arm around her was… “It can’t be,” I said, yanking the book from his lap.

  “It is I’m afraid,” Anchille began. “The man that you see is—”

  “Menaan,” I gasped. His hair was pulled back and he was wearing a dark suit. Gran’s hair was loose, showing the curve of her brown curls and the round of her chocolate cheeks. She was smiling up at him, ignoring the camera and holding her swollen belly. I couldn’t breathe as I tried to piece things together.

  “She was pregnant with your father Lina,” said Isis from across the table. I didn’t look up. I was completely in shock, like Anchille said I would be. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath, until I let go and became irate.

  “Linora was married by this time, to a man named George, my grandfather!” My breathing staggered and my shoulders stiffened. “Where did you get this?!” I demanded.

  “There was never a George, Lina. There was only Menaan. He was the love of her life. He is your grandfather.”

  “No, no he isn’t!” I protested. “She would have told me, she would’ve....”

  “You stared at his face the other night, I assumed you remembered him.”

  “How could I remember him? I’ve never seen him before.” That was of course a big fat lie. I did remember him as soon as I saw his face in the painting, only I wasn’t sure what I was remembering. A harmless memory from my past, a passerby, or an actual relative.

  “You have seen him my dear, only you were too small.”

  “How?”

  “Menaan stayed with Linora after she gave birth to Ahmenos. He tried to live a normal life with them. He even stayed with them at Bordeaux House for a time. He saw you, when you were a child, perhaps three or four years of age.”

  “This is nuts,” I shook my head. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t wrap my head around such a huge secret. My own mother hadn’t ever told me, let alone my dad. Why? “If what you’re saying is true, then you’re not my boss, you’re my, uncle?”

  “Ahmenos is my brother. There is one more as well, Ahnri.” I chewed on that.

  “She sure was busy!” I snorted. “Two other sons, I never knew about!”

  “Linora is not our mother Lina. Ahnri and I had a different mother.”

  “Grandpa was a rolling stone?” Isis couldn’t stifle her snickering until Anchille glared at her.

  “He’s only had two loves in his life Lina, our mother, and Linora, though he professed many times that he loved her the most.”

  “How come no one ever told me, about Menaan, about you all?”

  “We’r
e telling you now.”

  “I’m friggin eighteen years old! My family made up this fake grandfather named George Dubois-Anjani, a ‘Louisiana dignitary’ instead of telling me the truth!”

  “It was better this way,” he said.

  “Better for whom?!”

  “Everyone.”

  “You’re gonna have to give me a better explanation than that.”

  “George Dubois was a real person, an excavator who worked out of Cairo, and a friend of the family. Menaan encouraged Linora to take his name, to use his likeness. It was a common practice in those days.”

  “Identity theft?” I retorted.

  “Surnames. Where do you think Bhari came from?” she asked.

  “I’ve no idea. If you say it was done then I guess it was, and why not? Right. Because across the Atlantic, who would know the difference?!” I couldn’t believe it.

  “We know it seems impossible, cruel even, but as you will begin to understand, it was the only way.”

  “If you say so,” I remarked coolly. “Ya’know, what I remember is everyone leaving me, first my dad, and then my grandmother and as for “George” he may as well have been a ghost, because he wasn’t there either!”

  “Linora didn’t leave you Lina and when she was admitted to that dreadful hospital, it wasn’t because she was ill. She was put there, in order to keep her safe.”

  “You know about that?” My skin prickled. It was my own family secret; one I didn’t feel comfortable having strangers know. But, apparently these weren’t strangers—they were relatives, close ones.

  “We know everything Lina,” Anchille admitted.

  “Then you’ve heard the rumors. My gran and her bat-shit friends were down in the Quarter, cooking up placentas and shearing sheep for the Orisha. Can’t imagine why she needed protection,” I snorted, “from who honestly?! I know, a customer who’s love spell backfired, or worse, a wife that tried to punish her ex by poisoning him, only he didn’t die!” I was laughing, all by myself.

  “There were those that would kill her, Lina, and they were not unhappy patrons.”

  At that my instinct to defend her kicked in. “Why would anyone want to hurt her? She didn’t do anything so bad. She was only trying to help people.”

  “It’s true,” offered Anchille. “Linora was a benefactress to her Louisiana neighbors. She learned from a long line, dating back to your West African ancestors.”

  “Not to mention Marie Laveau.” I was really proud of that actually.

  “Yes, and as such, she was too exposed, too vulnerable.”

  “This is all starting to sound a bit conspiracy theory for me.”

  “We speak the truth.”

  “Yeah, yeah I get that, but listen…my family might have once practiced craft, and they may or may not have done things misunderstood, but that doesn’t make them crazy any more than it makes them divine. They manufactured soaps and oils, read some tarot, and handed out love advice. These aren’t crimes. Why would anyone want to hurt them?”

  “Because, you are the sole heir, to their entire world.”

  “What’s that, cuz the last time I checked, Bordeaux House was boarded up and in foreclosure. Any of my father’s assets were lost in that sand trap in Karnak, where he died by the way!” I half yelled. Anchille stared blankly at me, as if there were something gravely important he wanted to say. I wished he would do it already, spare me the severe build up. “Unless, you don’t mean a strife from their inner circle.” Anchille didn’t speak. “Who then?”

  “There is more to tell,” he pleaded then, as if I were about to flee the room. I wasn’t positive that I wouldn’t.

  “Say then, the suspense is killing me.” He glanced at Isis who gave him a nod.

  “Your father,” he began, turning to face me.

  “My dad what?”

  “He never died in Egypt as you’ve been led to believe.” I stared at him quietly, trying to figure out where the nice man in him had gone, and why on earth would he be so callous.

  “Why would you say something so...cruel?”

  “He’s alive Lina. Ahmenos lives and breathes as he has for many years.”

  “Stop it,” I told him.

  “You buried a box without a man inside Lina, but that’s only because that man is here, in England, not because there was never a body found.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I begged them. Isis pulled out what looked to be a photograph. She handed it to me.

  “It’s true,” Isis offered, as I held the picture shakily. There, standing arm in arm with two other men, was my father. It was him. But how...

  “This doesn’t prove anything. This could have been taken any time.”

  “Check the date,” she said.

  I still shook my head in disagreement. “Anyone can change the date on photos!” I shrugged, trying to hand it to her. I didn’t want to look at his face.

  “That,” she pointed, “was taken not two months ago Lina.” I stared harder then, trying to pick it apart, to find fault in its authenticity somewhere. I couldn’t. He looked very much alive, and very current. His hair was marginally shorter, but still hung at his shoulders. He was himself, only, there was something more, something in his gaze I’d not noticed before. It was like he was staring right back at me, his eyes yearning for me to believe. I threw the print to the floor.

  “Oh my God,” I trembled beneath a rocket of tears. I stood from my chair and began pacing back and forth, holding my shoulders. I couldn’t believe it, I just couldn’t. How?

  “Oh my sweet, long we’ve been waiting to unleash these truths to you, long have we waited for you to come to us, but we had to bide our time, we had to be patient. You have had to be the most patient, the strongest, believing your own father to be dead, feeling lost and alone. You shall not be alone any longer.”

  “Prove it.” I demanded.

  “Lina,” said Anchille softly.

  “What? If you’re telling me the truth, then prove it. You want me to believe in you right? Call him.”

  “We can’t.”

  I roared with laughter. “Because he’s dead!” I threw off the blanket and headed toward the door. “Thanks, for making me feel worse than I ever did!”

  “Stop!” Isis ordered. “We can’t call him, or bring him here, for more reasons than we can say now, but you must trust that what we are about to tell you, will explain why.”

  I kept a foot between them, myself, and the door. “Does it matter if you’re telling the truth? What will it change?”

  “This, will change everything you’ve ever known,” Anchille said when I turned around. “Please come back and sit down.

  I wasn’t sure if I should believe them. I wanted to so I decided to go with it, even if in the end my heart really would disintegrate from disappointment, when the charade fell apart. “Will he come here?” I asked, wiping my face and pausing in front of the fire. “Will he come?” I could fully admit I was daring to hope. That’s what devastation and the ring of possibility does to a person.

  “Before he can come to you, there are things you must learn, things that are only meant for you.”

  “I’m listening,” I told them, sitting down again.

  “Look here, and tell us what you see,” Anchille said.

  He pointed to the page he’d drawn to. I obeyed. I would do anything, believe anything, if it meant seeing my father again. The section was covered with hieroglyphs and ancient text in the background. In the foreground there stood two figures opposite one another. A man with a dome shaped headpiece, faced to the right and holding a small dagger in his hand. The other was a slighter male, wearing a mask of a hawk or some kind of bird, the headdress rested above his raven mane. His shoulders were squared and in his hand, he clutched a long anvil. It was pointed toward the man opposite him. It wasn’t in a threatening war like way; they were guarding something, a woman. My stomach churned because the build of the disguised man was familiar. I realized, he resembled Ahkmenotep
, the boy’s tutor.

  “Huh,” I mumbled as the two of them tried to gauge my reaction. I decided not to react because it was obviously a coincidence. I pulled the book closer to get a better view of the woman. Her black hair was flowing about her and she wore an intricate head piece, made of two golden prongs and a wide center stone. Her broad jaw curved prominently from the ears and the chin was well defined. My eyes trailed away from the delicate cleft there and onto the familiar cocoa of her skin. Her face was pointed toward the sky, but I could see that her eyes were bright silver and magnetic. Seated over her folded arms was a hawk. I dropped my gaze from the disturbing image to the floor, and then I raised them to Isis. I gulped as I studied her features, seemingly for the first time. Her eyes glimmered as she waited for my reaction. I looked at the page once more. There was a lengthy pause. Even Linora was quiet.

  “How old is this?” I pointed to the painting.

  “Several thousand years.” Anchille waited very still.

  “It’s impossible.”

  “Is it?” Isis asked. My heart beat faster and faster. Then, I jumped upright, thrusting my finger obscenely at her ageless face. “What is this?! What are you two trying to do here? Huh?” They were quiet. “No words, nothing!”

  “Lina please,” Anchille pleaded from my left.

  “Please what! You both are insane. I don’t…I just don’t understand!” Tears streamed my face and I grabbed my cheeks with both hands. It couldn’t be her, it simply couldn’t.

  “You questioned nearly from the moment you arrived, felt in your heart what you knew to be true—why we did not move, speak, or even behave as you. The answers to all those questions…are there,” said Isis, gesturing to her double on the page. I felt my stomach reel forward. Anchille’s cold fingers were upon my face then, his cool voice whispered into my ear. He leaned down to wipe the wet from my skin.

  “We mean you no harm. You are my niece, my brother’s child. You are safe here, I promise.”

  “Why does that look like her, why does that man look so much like Ahkmenotep?” I exhaled. Anchille smoothed hair from my panicked face.

  “It is them, Lina,” he attested plainly. “This book is over seven thousand years old, written in the time of ancient Egypt. Menaan wished to record the lives of his people and the struggles they endured. Much happened to them, things they could not explain, but which they felt the gods would one-day reveal.” He braced his strong hands around my tiny shoulders, waiting for the impact of his words to hit me. I wasn’t even able to fall, and so he walked me back to the couch. I panted softly as my mind raced to draw some connection, any connection that would make sense. But nothing made sense at all. How was Isis image displayed in such an old testament?

  “What is it, a diary?”

  “Think of this as, a book for the dead.”

  “Is that what it is? Is it, the Book of the Dead?”

  “This would, pre-date anything ever found in the tombs Lina. It was written by our people.”

  “Your, people?” I sniffled.

  “Dam Ilah.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Blood Gods,” said Anchille evenly. I blinked at him. “They were, are,” he corrected, “the ancient deities worshiped by the Egyptians.”

  “And that’s what you’re trying to tell me you are, you and Isis, your boys, and Ahkmenotep, you’re these Blood Gods?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is my father?” Was I really entertaining this? The sweat on my face told me I was.

  “He’s half. He’s also part human. Ahnri and I are as well, as was our mother.”

  “Jeez.” I felt a knotting in the pit of my stomach. I hunched forward. I was about to throw up. I could feel it—it was coming and fast. And then the preemptive moan, “Oh God.” Isis caught me in her icy arms with plenty of time to grab a silver basin and pull me onto her lap, all before I’d even blinked. And then I heaved. Two minutes later I was upright, cleaned, and sipping chilled soda. I shook my head when I realized my host had already returned to her seat, as if she’d never even moved. It was the same as the children, the same as Thomas in the parlor, the same as Avati, only I was now seeing things clearer. I was seeing them how they truly were, not how my immature mind wished them to be. The pieces were coming together so the true design could be revealed. One thing was certain: Isis’ speed was unparalleled. Where the others leapt in seconds, there would be only memories of her footprints. She outshined them all, in every arena I’d witnessed thus far. She was more beautiful (though they all were), she was faster, and she was exponentially more powerful. What her body language conveyed, was power.

  “What does being half mean for him? Is he vulnerable?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Meaning?”

  “One thing is true of our kind, whether full blood or half, we grow stronger as time moves along. But, like any creature God has created, there is a certain level of protection needed, safety in numbers etcetera.”

  “Like any other animal in the wild?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But he is strong, right?”

  “Indeed,” Anchille smiled.

  “That’s, good,” I said. “What do the Dam Ilah, do or whatever, besides pilfer the states for strays?

  Anchille laughed. “We didn’t pluck you from obscurity Lina. It’s, more complicated than that.”

  “I’ll bet.” I took another cold drink.

  “First, we were made this way, by forces far beyond our control.”

  “So you’re cursed?” I wanted to laugh but I didn’t.

  “Some say.” Anchille smirked a bit.

  “Some? You don’t share their opinion?”

  He glanced at his wife. “We…adapted.”

  There was a brief exchange.

  “Could you elaborate?”

  “We were like our makers once too, gods of Egypt, purveyors of the ancient order, protectors of man, and the other worlds.”

  “You’re right, too complicated,” I complained.

  “Think of our existence,” he pointed to himself and Isis, “as intricate folds in time with one body. All the blood memories of each life passing with us as we go along.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” He shook his head yes. “Blood Gods,” I marveled to myself. “Blood Gods,” I said it again, letting the two words roll off my tongue. That’s when it hit me. My mind flashed over all the strange things I’d seen and then to this morning at breakfast. They’d been so nonchalant, so disinterested. I stared at them both, really hard, waiting as my brain got up to speed. When it finally did I couldn’t speak the word in my head, though it was ready to burst from my lips. They seemed as though they were waiting for me to say, to say it aloud without fear, without hesitation. “You’re vampires,” I choked. Anchille quickly looked at Isis. She leaned back in her chair and smiled.

  “In this world, anyway.”

  “The curse.”

  “Hmm,” she nodded.

  Very quickly I zipped through my mental stash of monster lore. Frankly, the only things I’d ever started to believe in, or at the very least entertained, were ghosts and zombies. It sounded stupid when you said it out loud, but I was living proof that the dead liked to visit their loved ones, and as for zombies, well, cable TV was quite the evil conspirator on that topic, sending waves of subliminal messages about the coming apocalypse. I might have even told my mother once that we should be prepared—I believe bomb shelter was suggested. But this, this was just ignorant.

  “The magnanimous gods of Egypt, the architects of the pyramids, the aliens, were actually vampires,” I said contemptuously. Isis narrowed her gaze at me.

  “The universe is far more miraculous, infinite in its own wisdom, and though we may not always understand, we must accept all her creatures, no matter how absurd,” Isis told me.

  “Okay fine, I get that the world is peculiar. I fully admit there are things that as a race, and a young one at that, we don’t understand. But th
is, is...”

  “In any case Lina, we are what are. This is the form we must endure, at least until the prophecy is fulfilled,” she said.

  “Then what?”

  “Then, and only then, will we be truly set free, able to walk through the Golden Age.”

  “Is that like, Heaven or something? Do you even get to go to Heaven?”

  Anchille kept his head gently in his palm. Isis cleared her throat so he would sit up then she answered. “It isn’t the afterlife we seek. It’s peace.”

  “Where’s this prophecy come into play?”

  “It is said that when the child of the first of us realizes her true power, the Blood Gods will be allowed to walk beside her into Duat and beyond, having regained their original state, no longer bound to Earth.”

  “Duat, as in Ancient Egyptians’ belief in paradise, or the passage through?”

  “The very same.”

  “But I thought you said you didn’t care about that?”

  “There’s a large difference, between not seeking out a blissful afterlife, and turning your back on it completely,” said Isis.

  “In other words Lina, whether we are allowed salvation or we must remain in the earthly realm, we wish to do so, without the constraints of our kind,” Anchille explained.

  “Hmph,” I grunted as I turned a few more pages in, grandpa Menaan’s book, cripes, not too weird or anything. “So…how old are you?” I directed the query at Isis. She hesitated. I snuffed at her. “Tell the truth now, older than Christ at least.”

  “I am that,” she replied.

  That’s when the nervous laughter began. It was literally beyond my control. I was going

  head-first, into a complete mental breakdown.

  8. Roots

  The mid-morning sun finally decided to grace us with his presence and from the skylight, cast a particle filled stream over the work table and stacks of artifacts. It wouldn’t last before the determined rain took hold again. And this was what I could expect from the squally English weather. There would be no lazing on white sandy beaches, in the dead of summer, soaking up vitamin D. There would be no desperation for gelato or even the need for sun block—not that I ever used it anyway. It was a luxury to be blessed with a permanent natural tan. Still, I enjoyed the sun. We had a friendly relationship, one I worried I would very soon lose. I wondered…

  “Am I like you?” I asked, even though I didn’t want to hear the answer. Isis and Anchille said nothing. They only watched me speculate. “Ash and Khan said...”

  “It’s not as bad as you think,” Isis responded.

  “Oh my God! Are you kidding?!”

  “Lina,” whispered Anchille, trying to make me sit down.

  “It is as bad as I think, trust me! What the hell!” I stood up and starting pacing for the third time. “Couldn’t be normal could I? Everyone else gets shitty campus cafeteria food, and moldy textbooks, free coffee and Wi-Fi! Everyone else has normal families, without voodoo dolls, ritual sacrifice, mother freaking vampires, and mumbo jumbo!” I was hysterical, whirling on them like an animal. I could feel my rage mounting as I glared at them both. “I thought I was starting my life, thought I was so sophisticated but I was wrong. My friends, they’re starting their lives, they’re making choices. I won’t be, because, I’ll be here, with my spook of a grandmother, and the vampires.” The make-believe word made me cringe. So, I cried. I cried over my hair-brained scheme to ditch everything I’d ever known. I cried because the mundane marriage proposal was suddenly very appealing compared to my reality. And I cried for having hurt Jamie in the first place, and for daring to think there was anything in this entire world that could be better than him. I was a complete idiot. I settled into tranquil sobbing, because after wiping my eyes, I realized that this was not a dream—it was very real. Anchille and Isis watched me carefully. I picked up the heavy book and looked down at the woman, Isis, on the page. I envisioned millions of scarab beetles infesting the mansion like in some horror movie. Good Lord, I think I could handle the notion of blood lustful gods, but creepy, skittering bugs, and what else…mummies—it was too much.

  “Give me this.” Anchille rubbed his brow and took the book from me.

  “What?” I said, allowing him to take the damn thing.

  “There are no mummies.”

  “Who said anything about that?” I asked. Jeez, how did he know I—ohh, right. It all made sense now—the staring, the tickling feeling around the edges of my head. I ventured a guess, “You can hear what I’m thinking.”

  “We can.” He kept his head down, trying to answer without sounding conceited. I swallowed hard.

  “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

  “YES! Of course it does, it would bother any sane person! I have enough to deal with, I don’t need you people,” I couldn’t help but reel with laughter from the inaccurate noun, “I don’t need you roaming in my head!”

  “If it makes you feel better, we’ll try not to.”

  “Good.”

  “Lina, one day you’ll be able to do it as well,” offered Anchille.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It should,” said Isis. “It’s a rather convenient perk.”

  Anchille was next to me, snickering about something. “What?”

  “A scarab uprising,” he laughed, raising his arms in calamity.

  “I’m glad you find this all hilarious,” I said, crossing my arms.

  “Forgive me,” he pleaded. “It’s unfair.”

  “Forget it,” I told him. What the hell did any of it matter anymore? The whole place could be infested with rats, but at the end of the day, this was still my family. I felt sick about it.

  Isis pointed to the following page in the ancient book, gently guiding us back after our detour from Blood God lore. Anchille repositioned it for me to follow along. “The lost city that once flourished under my rule,” she said, motioning for me to look.

  It was a massive temple with six obelisks surrounding it, at what looked to be very purposeful angles. Palm trees swept a bit of shade over the stone walkways, and the aisles all led to the same place, a high tower which looked out over the subjects and into the blazing desert sun.

  “I was called Ahmose too, once,” she said. “The Achaiins adored me, gave me offerings, and helped me to build the kingdom to astonishing heights. It is now under sand and ruin, beneath the crypts at Deir El Bhari. Hatshepsut’s memories were built upon it thousands of years later, but it bears my name, and we have not forgotten what lies beneath,” Isis exhaled. “Lina, this is the place where council held various ceremonies, and where we gathered in great number and strength, though it has been ages it seems.” Isis broke when she saw Anchille’s expression change. He ran an index finger over the buried city.

  “Achaia,” he whispered. Isis smiled at him but it was mournful.

  “Lina,” she resumed, “Our home was a glorious place, and I alone shaped it with the assistance of my people. Years later those devoted to my cause were forced to take ships through the Aegean Sea and onward to Greece.” I puzzled over the fact a moment.

  “Look, I believe you, I think. I mean I have to right? How else could you have those pictures of my grandma and my dad?”

  “And also the origin of your name,” Isis added.

  “That, yeah…but…”

  “But?” Isis inquired.

  “When I first got here you tried to hide the truth from me, which by the way, made me feel like I was losing my mind.”

  “I suppose there was no real point, being that you are Linora’s granddaughter. You’ve her keen insight Lina, not to mention a touch of her magic,” Anchille proposed.

  “I don’t want you to hide it, not anymore,” I told them. Isis looked to Anchille and then to me.

  “The stories, or all of who we are and what that entails?”

  “The whole thing,” I confirmed.

  “We can be very frightening Lina,” she pointed to my beautiful u
ncle and to herself. It was hard to picture but I nodded.

  “I wanna see.”

  “Very well,” she said. She told me to relax and to not be afraid. Anchille went first and he touched my skin. It grew cold, as if I were being submerged in the arctic. I looked into his eyes and watched them turn icy like that dark water I was seeing and feeling—soon they were black as night and terrifying. There was no white left, only two round pools of obsidian. With a tilt of his head his lips parted, revealing long fangs that curved inward toward his tongue. It was the most terrible thing I’d ever seen but I was torn between wishing for him to stop and wanting him to continue. He hunched forward, in an animal-like crouch, arching his back and flexing his elongated fingers. There were sharp claws on the end where the smooth nails had been and his ears were somewhat pointed, though his long black hair covered most of them. He looked like a beautiful demon, it was hard to look away, but he frightened me. I buried my face and cried out for him to stop, to change back to the uncle I now knew, and not this creature that reminded me of hell.

  “Lina, open your eyes.” His face was completely back to normal and I was no longer freezing to death. I was still clutching my chest when he reached for me. “It’s alright.” I looked at him.

  “I’m okay,” I whispered, still unable to hold his gaze for long.

  “It isn’t always like that,” he affirmed. I detected a twinge of hurt or pain in his voice.

  “No?”

  “Well, we are also beings of the realm of the gods.”

  “What does that look like?” I ventured, unsure if I really wanted to see.

  “I should think you’ll feel, warmth, joy, perhaps…peace?”

  “That sounds nice.” They both smiled and then Anchille suggested that he and Isis show me together. Isis didn’t agree.

  “I will not overwhelm her with my presence love. Today is for you.”

  “As you wish,” he told her. “Ready?” he asked me. I nodded quickly, excited at the prospect of anything that wasn’t scary. Anchille stood again, but this time there was no receding of lips, no expanding of flesh, and no deep freeze. Instead a golden light, brighter than the very sun, exhumed from the very deepest part of him, soared out through his eyes, nose, ears, mouth, fingertips and toes. He was surrounded by a powerful aura, bathed in a magnificence which began to expand further from his body and out towards other parts of the room. It enveloped Isis, then the bookshelves, the ceiling, the floors and finally…me. It wasn’t only the glow of him but the serene look on his face and then there was the sound. At first it was barely audible until he smiled and when he smiled the sound grew louder, harder to deny. There were no words, no real change in inflection but it was there. A sound unknown to this world but which made perfect sense. He was right. I did feel warmth and peace and something else. I couldn’t name it until the light began to fade and his body ceased to burn. When Anchille sat next to me and touched my face I was crying. I’d been kissed by Heaven. I had witnessed firsthand what lied beyond the veil of our existence and it was glorious, and overwhelming. I couldn’t breathe. He took my tears into his hands and when he opened them there was that illumination, hovering in a sphere of light in his palm.

  “You’re so…” I couldn’t even speak; I was too overcome with indescribable emotions.

  “You needn’t put into words how you feel. We already know,” said Isis. I nodded to her, grateful that their powers allowed them to hear my thoughts. I wasn’t sure I’d want anyone else there, but for now, it was nice allowing them to see themselves, through my eyes.

  “You’ve always been here, I mean, before everything and everyone?”

  “Isis has been here since the beginning, Lina,” said Anchille. I shuddered at that. On the concept of space and time I’d always remained fairly neutral, only because the idea was much too complex. Being forced to think of it, and not only think of it but accept it—that was an altogether mind-boggling experience.

  “Aliens really didn’t help build the pyramids, you did?” I pointed to her, all joking aside.

  “We did,” Isis agreed.

  “Humans manifest a history of images, and artifacts which only fuels their own detachment, to all that was and is mystical.”

  “What has always been right before them,” agreed Isis.

  “What are you saying?” I blurted. “Are you saying there isn’t life on other planets, that there aren’t beings like us, I mean, me, somewhere else?” I’d rather hoped at one point that my posterity would make it to some far off utopia, before earth swallowed man whole.

  “There is other life Lina, but they may not be what you think they are, and they certainly don’t look as they’ve been portrayed. They don’t even travel the way humans have been manipulated to believe. Think of it this way, your world, Earth, multiplied ten billion times, and each one has a portal or dimension as you wittily expressed, and they are able to maneuver through that arena with ease, to gain knowledge and to grow.”

  “And to carve up cows and females for study?”

  Isis laughed. “Like I said, don’t believe everything you read.” Anchille cleared his throat and Isis rolled her eyes at him.

  “What?” I asked, glancing between them.

  “Life of the universe is of great interest to Anchille,” she explained.

  “You believe what humans claim?” I asked him.

  He pondered a moment. “The OverGods created us. It stands to reason that either they also created what humans have seen in the sky, or that they, the gods, were fashioned by those creatures. In any case, I find it fascinating.”

  “I think it’s scary. I hate not knowing what or who is out there.” I realized I was sitting among the unimaginable, fairytale creatures. They may not be textbook grey aliens, but they were the stuff nightmares were made of. “Where do we fit?” I asked, feeling incredibly small and weak.

  “Humans?”

  I nodded.

  “Most will remain clueless, except for the gifted ones, like those in your family. And you my darling, can come and go as you please as well—we all can, to places like Heaven, Hell, the Underworld, the Netherworld, or the outer planes. We, the Dam Ilah, are here to live but also to protect man.”

  “From?” I queried cautiously.

  “From himself,” Isis answered.

  “You’re soldiers?”

  “I’ve never thought of it that way but I guess, yes—we keep the darkness away, so that man is free to live. At first it was our penance. Eventually, when man comes back to his mystical soul, and realizes that we are here, he will no longer fear his own skin. They too are amazing beings, full of light and love, only most have forgotten themselves. When they remember, humans will be free, to move through space and time, as their true selves.”

  “And when that happens, then what?”

  “Then we all will move into an age of peace, together.”

  “Ugh,” I huffed, slumping in my seat.

  “It’s much to process.”

  “Ya’ think?” I abandoned my mother, for this. I broke up with Jamie—turned into the most selfish bitch on the planet, to end up right here. “God, is punishing me,” I rambled, more to myself.

  “Ridiculous,” Isis countered.

  I didn’t answer. I was too busy contemplating that this was all still a dream, or that I was dead. “Maybe my plane actually crashed?”

  “Pinch yourself, I assure you, you’re very much alive,” said Isis.

  I hadn’t the energy or inclination to argue. “You’re reverence for the human race, is it a lie?

  “How do you mean?” she asked.

  “Well, you’re not out there broadcasting what you are.”

  “No, we are not.”

  “You look human enough, you could pass,” I suggested.

  She appeared skeptical. “Do you think so?”

  I didn’t, not at all. I could pick them out of a crowd in seconds. “You live out here in obscurity. The Achaiins must have fled Egypt for a reason.”


  “Very perceptive.”

  “Okay so what about this prophecy; how does that tie in? It must be a big deal, otherwise you wouldn’t be telling me all this.”

  “The prophecy ties in with you child.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Linora had your father with Menaan, and Menaan is one of the first descendants of the originals, Hekate and Agmenon.”

  “Hekate?” I immediately gripped the necklace at my chest and took a slow breath.

  “You’re birth parents, love.”

  9. Enlightened

  “Linora met Menaan because she was meant to, just like Constance met Ahmenos in order to bring you, the child of the prophecy, into the world. The Prophets told us there would be purpose to all things, that in the years to come the child of Hekate and Agmenon’s seed would bring into this world the new queen. And so here—” I cut her off.

  “I’m sorry but did you just say the child of the prophecy, is the new queen?”

  Isis and Anchille locked eyes. “You will be one day Lina,” she informed me.

  “Oh no, no I’m not in any way shape or form going to rule anything, least of all a royal fricken family!” Me the queen of what…dead, god, vampires—jeezus-h! I felt a thump to my head. It was hard enough of a rap that I reached up to smooth my hair. Grandma. I grit my teeth and rolled my eyes at the air. Isis seemed to be nodding over me to the bookcase which made me whirl around. I didn’t see anything, but I knew Linora was there. “Cripes! You see her, don’t you?!”

  “She wants you to listen Lina, and to accept what we are telling you. It is your destiny as it is ours.”

  “Right, I’m the Second Coming,” I muttered. Anchille burst into laughter until Isis growled at him. Linora knocked me again. “Ouch! Alright!” I swatted the air. “You’ll have to explain to me how this all came about then. If you really want me to believe you, tell me how it all started.”

  “The process of revealing must follow the order of council.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that we can only show you some things without the rest of the family here Lina. It’s our way.”

  “Oh, please don’t get all official on me now. You opened the damn door, so get on with it. Tell me about my past.”

  “Members of the council arrive tomorrow night. You will be introduced to them and after we dine each family will tell you a piece of our history. We must follow doctrine Lina. Time and place is everything. The way the prophecy unfolds is very delicate—nothing can go wrong.”

  “Or what?”

  “Your ascension could be compromised.”

  “Yes. This is a lot to take in all at once, which is why we await the council members. Please understand now, the past must be un-veiled prudently. To do otherwise, could prove damaging, to you my dear,” offered Anchille.

  “It’s been seven years,” I wailed, more to myself then to them. “I didn’t get to say goodbye, I didn’t get to say I love you, nothing! Right after my dad left, my mom re-bounded with Costas and we moved to Chicago—we never looked back. You could have found me; you could have told me all of this years ago. Maybe if you had I wouldn’t feel so empty now. My entire life has been a lie.”

  “We know, and we are deeply, deeply sorry for how this has and is affecting you. You must believe that Ahmenos didn’t leave you for any other reason than to protect you and Constance.”

  “I know,” I said, though it didn’t make the sting of it any less painful. He’d missed everything. He missed my first dance, and recitals, and prom. He missed my graduation. I could think of more than a dozen times I’d really needed my dad—those hurts were far beyond even his reach now, the damage done.

  “He didn’t miss it all Lina. I was able to show him certain things. He didn’t miss it,” Isis assured me. “You must take this opportunity now, to reflect, and to realize that you and Ahmenos will have an eternity to get re-acquainted. It’s all he wants darling. It’s all he’s ever wanted.”

  “And what about my mom, where is she left in all this?”

  “Lina.”

  “What?! She married someone else. She’s living a different life. She didn’t want that! She’s only doing it because she doesn’t know.”

  “And for now, it must remain that way, for her own good.”

  “Jeezus! I want to talk to him, right now.”

  “You cannot.”

  “I can and I will. My dad is alive and I want to talk to him. I want to see him. I have a right. Is he coming tomorrow night?”

  “He won’t come,” Isis attested, “not until you’ve ascended Lina. It isn’t safe for him to be with you until then.”

  “Ascended, to what exactly?”

  “To your true form. As we’ve told you, soon you will become our new queen, and when that happens, our enemies will be powerless to destroy you. Your father and his sacrifice will not have been in vain, and he will be able to come to you.”

  Anchille locked his pinkie with mine. “Understand?”

  “I don’t know; I don’t know what to think or what to feel. I’m numb.” Big difference from the last eight and a half years.

  “We can understand and I’m sure there isn’t much else we can say apart from, we love you. It may sound uncomfortable to hear and that we perhaps feel as strangers to you, but we are not. We’ve worked very diligently to safeguard your childhood and your coming into adulthood. Many have had a part to play in the unfolding of the prophecy.” That revelation served me a healthy slathering of goose bumps. It was creepy to think of a thousand eyes always watching.

  “Does everyone here, know about me?”

  “Yes, with the exception of some of the human staff,” he said.

  “Why aren’t they afraid, of you I mean?”

  “They know they’ve nothing to fear, not with us.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because, Isis and I have no taste for blood anymore. We mostly drink to be social or…”

  “Or what?!”

  “If there were to be a war, or some other reason for us to protect ourselves, then we would drink, heavily.”

  I was going to be sick again. “You said you grow stronger, the more time passes. Aren’t you virtually indestructible by now?” It seemed a reasonable enough assumption to me.

  “Blood is not essential to Isis and myself, even to say Ahkmenotep; we are the oldest living Dam Ilah but, to our coven, and their endless followers, it is. They are all a great deal younger than we are and have not come to an era where they need it less. We accommodate them with delicacy and respect to both drinker and donor.”

  “Donor? Someone actually says, ‘Hey, come drink from me!”” Euw.

  “It depends. Some will only take human blood and that is typically given by the bag. Isis and I prefer they do that but there are those that refuse and so we make arrangements for them. There are some members who only take animals, and that is the least invasive as far as we’re concerned. Unfortunately, there are those who feed on,” he paused, “other vampires.”

  “Cannibals. Gross.”

  “Our sentiment exactly,” chimed Isis. Her exquisite brown skin tightened in revulsion.

  “When we flex our power over these younger generations, those who’ve only lived this life a mere hundred plus years, it creates, tension.”

  “So get rid of them,” I mumbled. Isis was smiling. Anchille wasn’t.

  “You must remember that we are the likeness of man. We have our fair share of carnivores, vegetarians, and as many of the criminally insane, probably enough to fill this entire country.”

  “Like I said, get rid of them.”

  “We don’t choose to deal with rogues that way Lina. When you are in Isis’ place, you may or may not do the same.”

  “I won’t. Unrest in the lower ranks now means future usurpers later,” I told him. Now Isis was beaming with pride. I tried not to accept her silent approval, I was mad at her. I was angry at both of them for lying to me. Still, the mome
nt she offered her praise, I sensed a shift in myself. It felt good. “What do you do with them, these rogues? You can’t let them run rampant.”

  “It is a great crime and we hunt them down. We then bring them before council, where they are tried for their offenses against man or against the gods. Stalking humans is forbidden. It always has been,” Anchille explained.

  “Which punishment is more severe?”

  “Crimes against humans of course. Like we said, we’re here to protect them.”

  At least they had some moral decency. I wanted to know more but my own hunger gave me away. I was astounded that after everything I’d learned I was still willing to eat!

  “A break perhaps?” Isis encouraged.

  “Have something to eat Lina. We can speak more when the family arrives. I have to fly to London now. I’ll be back before the party tomorrow night.”

  “Are you going to see my dad?” My heart skipped at the thought.

  “I am,” he answered reluctantly.

  I wanted to say take me with you, but I knew Anchille wouldn’t. “Tell him hi.” I said drolly, biting my lip. Tears welled in my eyes and then Isis was there, comforting me.

  “It won’t be long now. You let this unfold as it should and you will see your father in no time,” said Anchille.

  “Okay,” I agreed. Could I trust them? I didn’t know. We walked out to the staircase and I glanced down at Isha and Khala who were rolling a cart through the foyer. Rinalde took it from them and headed down the corridor while the girls peered up at me. Their pale violet eyes blazed before they darted out the front door.

  “What’s their deal?” I nodded in their direction.

  “Deal?” asked Anchille.

  “What do they do?”

  “They are your maids,” Isis replied, from behind me.

  “That’s it?”

  “Come Lina, you must eat,” she said ushering me ahead. Anchille stood at the door.

  Charles came in soon after. “Plane is ready.”

  “Thank you Charles, I’ll be right there.” My uncle—whew, not too weird—turned to face me. He took my tiny fingers in his and kissed them. “I’ll be back, with good news to share from Ahmenos.” His face was glowing in the daylight. He looked like that angel again, a dark one maybe, but an angel nonetheless.

  “I’m no angel,” he sort of scoffed.

  “But you are my dad’s brother and I guess that means you really won’t hurt me, will you?”

  “No.”

  “Later then,” I bid him farewell with a meaningful fist bump which he didn’t miss. We both laughed at the same time and I realized, he was so much like my dad. My feet were itching to chase after him when he walked out.

  “Goodbye,” he mouthed to me with a side grin as he got in the car.

  As Isis and I walked towards the cook’s kitchen, I thought back to my last hours with my father. Right before he’d left the states I’d been desperately begging him to stay. I’d had such a terrible feeling that if he got on the plane, I would never see him again. He had tried so hard to pacify me, with promises of Egyptian treasure and a swift return. “My little girl, my Lina, I won’t be gone long. But I have something important to take care of and then I will come back to you. Uhibuk tifla.” That was the last time I spoke to him because three days later he was dead, well supposedly. He along with several other men were said to have been buried beneath a dig sight near Karnak. That evening, I’d curled in my bed listening to our front door open and close; the phone rang incessantly with calls of shock and grief. I heard my mother down the hall. She’d kept replaying a message on the answering machine from my father over and over again. Soon the tape began to crackle. She’d played it so many times a day after that, and even when she and Costas met, it was still saved. Whatever my father had said to her, whatever she had heard, she was determined to keep secret. When I did finally have an opportunity to listen, it was so broken up, I could barely make out his voice. The only line I was able to decipher was two small words that he spoke in Arabic that meant safe now. A couple tears made their way down my cheeks and as they did Isis reached for my trembling hand. I looked up at her and sniffled and she smiled down at me. I still couldn’t believe she was my aunt, but whether I was ready to accept it or not seemed irrelevant. This was happening and it was happening fast!

  10. Eye of Isis

  All during our quiet lunch together Isis was moving about, cleaning up after the children, and arranging bouquets. She had a brief exchange with the kitchen staff about ordering fresh foods, enough for the dinner party. Rinalde took note and told her he would make the proper arrangements.

  “Qui Madam.” Rinalde’s crooked smile stretched ear to ear as he assured Isis all would be splendid. “André et Antoine ont déjà commencé à préparer la salle à manger.”

  “Very good Rinalde, merci,” she told him, giving her bouquet a last once over. When we were finally alone, I struck a brow at her.

  “One eyebrow,” she posed; grinning, she took a sip of her coffee.

  “You don’t eat human food.”

  “I can,” she retorted.

  “But you don’t, and you’re ordering enough to feed an army, why?”

  “We aren’t heathens Lina. Look at my home, my staff, my children,” she motioned. “I above all, live for them, for their desire. What brings them pleasure and joy, be it art, architecture—.”

  “Expensive cars,” I interjected.

  “Cars yes, or food. These are the things that please me.”

  “I see. You have money to burn.”

  “You think I’m being arrogant?” she asked.

  “No. I’m happy you and Anchille don’t have to worry about mortgages and tuition and, everything.” I thought of my mom, struggling to make ends meet after my dad was gone. In less than a year’s time the bills had piled up and we were about to lose our apartment. Enter Costas. I had never not been grateful, at least for his willingness to assist with the funeral costs, the lawyer’s fees, the mess. Uprooting to Chicago was less of a romantic gesture and more a means to an end. We were sinking. Costas was our savior. For some reason, I was pissed at my mom for that. Isis watched me shrewdly.

  “Constance was devastated after Ahmenos. Under normal circumstances she would have been more than capable.” But she wasn’t anything like Isis, a self-made woman, the head of her house, hell, of legions. Isis reflected on my thoughts. “I had an unfair advantage over a mortal woman Lina. Try not to compare, hmm?” she suggested. I felt embarrassed that I had.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t ever talk about this stuff, not even with my friends. As far as anyone else is concerned, it’s a closed topic.”

  “But here, with us, the wounds have been re-opened,” she commented.

  “It would appear so,” I said, sighing. I didn’t really blame my mom at all, for depending on a man. I liked to think I wouldn’t ever do it, and clearly Isis didn’t need to, but that didn’t make what my mother did wrong. If anything it was the most selfless act, going against her heart, to provide for me.

  “That’s a good girl,” Isis praised, and gave my hand a pat. “And Lina?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I absolutely do depend on Anchille. I create a life for them, but he is my harbor.” We sat in silence a while after that, reflecting on the morning.

  Later, I analyzed every detail of Isis’ face from her long frame, to the glow that seemed to emanate from her body. I watched as her eyes subtly changed from deep grey to smoky quartz. My eyes grew wider as her pupils dilated, making the silver ring almost nonexistent, as Anchille had done earlier. Low pitched laughter swirled the air, yet her lips never moved. A rational person would have been on a plane back to the states by now. I didn’t have that option. Isis’ momentary phase ceased, leaving her exotic features cool and serene.

  “I have a feeling you can do much more than that, and what’s worse…I think seeing it might actually kill me.”

  “I doubt that,” she remarked.
/>
  “I don’t. You’ve been around a long time, it’s hard to comprehend what you’ve seen.”

  “I only want you to be prepared for some of what you may see, come tomorrow night.”

  “Gods who are vampires masquerading as humans, very disturbing—yep, it’s been noted,” I answered a little tartly.

  “I wish you didn’t think of us, as monsters.” She sounded hurt.

  “I, don’t,” I fibbed. She grunted back.

  “One couldn’t tell from the pictures in your head,” she reminded me, tapping her temple.

  “Sorry,” I shrugged.

  “We are gods first Lina. That is our true nature and the course for which we all seek that same prophetic salvation. Our vampirism is only a small bi-product of that, a trait, like a hat, to be donned a short while and then retired.”

  “You hope,” I said. She reflected a moment and then smiled.

  “We all do. Hope is all any of us can expect, now that you are here.”

  “So, you were Isis the goddess first, before all this.”

  “I still am Isis, the goddess,” she grinned.

  “There’s more right, I mean, you all have many names, many forms?”

  “We do.”

  “Gaia, Yemana, Lilith—” I ran through a few names that I was familiar with. A nod to my own taboo roots.

  “Don’t forget Abeona!” Avati bounced into the kitchen, twirling her bare arms and flouncing her onyx hair. She’d downgraded her leather attire for an eyelet lace baby doll dress and platform leather boots. It looked like she could break her skinny neck in them but then again, I’d never seen anyone more graceful.

  “Is that who you are?” I asked her, while swirling my spoon in my rich coffee. I hadn’t ventured a sip yet because it was too strong. Eighteen with an ulcer. I was a mess.

  “I am,” she sung, dropping a splash of water and three more sugar cubes into my hot drink. She’d read my thoughts obviously. I didn’t need to say thank you. She’d already heard. I blew before asking, “What does it mean?”

  “Protector of all children.” Avati leaned over Isis’ shoulder, resting her chin in the soft folds of her sweater. She whispered, “I thought you were going to wait for the others? The council won’t be pleased.”

  “The entire council and their antiquated sense of the doctrine is not my concern. I’m her aunt first.” Isis was working to gain my trust. I liked that and for some reason, I knew it was genuine.

  “It’s dangerous to tell her too much,” Avati motioned further. “The hills have ears Isis.” My aunt turned her chin to look at Avati a moment. Whatever the warning, Isis turned back to me, “I want to give, my niece,” she said, taking my hand, “the opportunity to ask some questions, before the process begins.” Her expression remained glossy, isolated, as if she were in shock that her will had been contested. “What Avati means Lina, is that I can only open the door. I am not permitted to take you all the way. It requires the entire coven to do that and they are not here at present, but we’ve talked on this, yes?” Isis grasped her mug between her stone like hands. The ceramic shook beneath her grip and I thought the glass might shatter entirely.

  “Yeah, they told me. I understand I can only learn so much so fast.” Avati retreated to the refrigerator to fetch a glass of ginger ale before I could blink. She dipped her pale finger over the edge and placed a wedge of lemon there before darting to me. The ice bobbed up to the top and the fizz whirled into my nose. I grabbed the glass greedily with two hands, without even thinking. When I looked up stunned, she was perched over the stool.

  “You’re nauseated,” she informed me, then added, “and it’s not only our ways at stake, but those very ears that will catch phrases uttered about our past…it will lead them here to her Isis.”

  My aunt waved her assistant’s concern away. “I’ve said nothing that would draw our enemies out.”

  I hadn’t noticed until that second, but then, the familiar stabbing had in fact returned. The acid churned inside me—it singed my stomach lining. “Drink Lina,” encouraged Avati.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, bringing the glass to my lips.

  “You could stand to relax, and coffee, really, with your, issue?”

  “Vati,” cautioned Isis.

  “Ha lo stomaco di un amministratore delegato in bancarotta,” Avati mouthed with a huff. Whether Isis agreed with her or not, she warned her assistant not to harp on me.

  “Thanks,” I said, before taking a swig. “All I got from that was stomach.”

  “I’m serious Lina. No more stress. It isn’t good for you,” Avati demanded, then took away the espresso, dumping it in the sink.

  “Stop it,” Isis groaned. “Leave my niece alone. She’s had a hard time. All we can do now is heal her, slowly. And we will,” she told me.

  “What can I say, it’s been a rough few years,” I admitted. It wasn’t an excuse, just the truth.

  I stared at Isis and she stared back. I tried to replay in my head everything she and Anchille had told me in the library. I had so many questions and I wasn’t sure which ones she would answer and which ones would be left for a later date.

  “Ask whatever you like. I’ll either answer or I won’t.”

  Okay, I thought, here goes. “Does God exist?” I asked wholeheartedly. I’d never really thought this existentially before. I was somewhat of a Pagan myself, which was now extremely ironic.

  “It’s why you are suited for this life,” chimed Avati, with a twinge of arrogance. I took offense for some reason, unclear if it was her assumption or her keen insight into my poor health.

  “I was raised Catholic,” I defended. I didn’t believe in the entire path, but I still respected it, or at least I respected my mother’s choice of the religion. Despite taking the spiritual roads less traveled, I did occasionally indulge my mom a Sunday sermon or midnight mass here and there.

  “Constance was born into a very devout Irish family that is true, and not myself or anyone here would stand to dispute her beliefs or teachings, but the fact remains, there is more magic in the world than humans realize. As far as the one God you speak of, I honestly couldn’t tell you. I have not seen him with my own eyes, nor has any of our kind as far as I am aware.”

  “Him?” I repeated. Isis smiled.

  “Well, Him according to mainstream, but if She works better for you...”

  “My mom hates to think of things so bleakly. She rather runs with the idea of Heaven, Hell and the angels in between. That’s where her serenity lies and I don’t begrudge her that.” Isis looked over her shoulder to Avati. They nodded to one another. “But?”

  “It’s sorta been my experience with religion and government, that most intentions are actually masking some darker design, ulterior motive.”

  “Political movements,” offered Isis.

  “Yeah. Besides, I never got into the whole idea of worshiping an unseen entity from the bench inside a stone building. I always preferred, being in nature.”

  “A natural light, like Linora,” she said warmly.

  “I guess. Does that make me bad?”

  “No. You see what others do not see. Truth exposes itself to you whether it wishes to or not. You are enlightened my child. And yes, we too, know something of politics in our world. Trust me, it’s not much different,” Isis confessed.

  “Is that how this happened?” I asked. Isis didn’t respond right away and I sensed Avati, hovering in her mind, still cautioning her about the rules.

  “There was a female goddess once, Sek-met, who asked for a great sacrifice.”

  “And?”

  “It couldn’t have been known that her rage, her war mongering would transfer onto us. She is not evil and in fact can be quite benevolent, but her fear, her anger, and her lust for dominion manifested in this form,” Isis pointed to herself.

  “Why’d she do it? I mean, what did she want?”

  “I once thought it was to secure the land of Egypt.”

  “From?” r />
  “What else? Enemies, foreign invaders, the corrupt of mind.”

  “That’s a good reason, isn’t?”

  “It appeared so.”

  “You said once you thought it was for Egypt. Now what do you think?”

  Isis’ gaze grew distant. I looked at Avati who only mimicked her reflection. Isis turned back to me. “Lina, choices are made but whether they are the correct ones, often remains to be seen. There was purpose to us all, that is true. One day we will know the outcome of our existence. The evidence of that sits before me now, in the form of a bright, young woman,” Isis reached for my clamped fist. My skin softened at her motherly touch.

  “Oh alright, this is too heavy!” Avati interjected.

  “Vati!” Isis hissed. The tiny woman giggled in delight and then stomped her designer heel.

  “It’s making me depressed. We are what we are. Let us focus on the fun parts of immortality, for they are numerous!”

  “For one so inclined on touting the rules of the undead to me, you certainly do not mind breaking a few, when it suits you!” Isis sneered.

  “Let me show her Luminaria,” Avati begged piteously.

  Isis growled at her. “Do what you will child,” she waved in annoyance.

  “Oh!” Avati swiveled around and clapped joyfully. The little Italian winked at me as she slipped forward with precise movements. Isis held her rich brown palm under her chin expectantly.

  “Ready?” Avati asked me with a flash of her pearl eyes.

  “Ya,” I grinned too, sitting back in my chair to get a full view.

  She lifted her arms above her head and tipped back slowly. A touch of wind whistled into the kitchen but there was no open door or window. As it swirled around her it kicked up her hair, and her feet floated six inches from the floor. Isis continued watching in real amusement and I waited impatiently, wondering what would happen next. I couldn’t have been prepared. Avati’s body grew brighter and brighter with a heavenly silver light. Even her grey eyes turned so white as she rotated slowly mid-air, and then came a sound like angels singing. It grew louder and more beautiful and though I didn’t understand the words my entire body began to feel such peace and wholeness. It was phenomenal and I realized—I felt safe, as I had with Anchille.

  “Vati, is a very different creature,” Isis said with a smile. Avati came down to the tiles slowly and soon the light and the song ceased. She rubbed her arms and hoisted herself back onto her bar stool with a satisfied look on her heart-shaped face.

  “Well?” she semi-bragged, “how was it?” A tear rimmed my eye. She seemed taken aback, as though I should have simply clapped and cheered, rather than actually be in awe or moved by her. I couldn’t help it. I knew they weren’t angels, but it didn’t change the fact that it was how they made me feel when they showed their true selves. They were beautiful yes, but when their bodies were lit up, the power of the sun filled them and it was amazing!

  “Abeona is the Goddess of Departing. She is protector of children, all children, living and dead. Vati is able to take the form of any creature and so when she came to me, decided that it made sense to assume the body of a vampire. She wanted to fit in,” Isis winked behind her.

  “And I thank you for that my queen,” the girl told her.

  “Gods don’t all take the same form?”

  Isis expression grew dark, her eyes bottomless. “No. We don’t all take the same form, nor do we all have the same abilities,” she reported with a bit of reluctance. “Let us take a stroll outdoors. The fresh air will revive you I think.” Isis suggested. Avati took our dishes to the sink. She dumped the contents of her own mug into the basin and whirled around.

  “I think I’ll check on Ash and Khan,” she said, heading for the corridor. She peeked back at me.

  “Thank you,” I told her, “for trusting me enough to show me the real you.”

  “Oh you wait, that was nothing,” she warned before slipping away.

  “I thought we’d start with our pets.”

  “Okay. I love everything, except jellyfish.”

  “Jellyfish?”

  “I’m a hater. I got stung once in California—it sucked.

  “You’ll find our animals to be, much larger I’m afraid.”

  “As long as they don’t sting and aren’t venomous.”

  Isis snickered. “No.”

  “What do you have out here, Loch Ness, Big Foot, the Krackin maybe?”

  Isis’ laughter turned into a delightful cackle. “We have cats,” she corrected in amusement, ticking my brow. We walked arm in arm at a steady pace and headed to the foyer. Isis reached for the brass handles. My eyes inadvertently bulged. She shook her head mockingly at me. “Surely you don’t think I’ll burn if I go in the sun? You were picked up at the airport, remember.”

  “It was dusk already,” I protested.

  “I can understand why you might believe that.”

  I looked to the ground awkwardly, “This is all new to me Isis.”

  She sighed and wrapped her arm around me. “Perhaps the sun has forgotten about me, about all of us.” Isis laughed. I felt like a complete moron! I couldn’t help envisioning her beautiful cocoa skin bursting into fiery flames.

  “Brace yourself darling,” she warned, taking hold of my hand in earnest.

  11. Guardians

  Of course nothing happened. Isis was as beautiful and ethereal as she had been inside the cold sanctuary of her home. The sun beat down on her effervescent skin in a thousand beads of luminous light, as if it had risen and waited for her all day. She tilted her head back to soak in as much as she could before the clouds moved in.

  “I don’t understand, are any of the myths true?”

  “Many of our kind do not walk directly in the sun, not because they will perish, but because it is a disturbance to man. You see that the bright of day heightens our differences, yes?” A rippling effect was happening over the skin beneath her eyes and in the area above her brows. Her face was very animated and anyone driven by curiosity would stare.

  “Yeah, I see.”

  “We don’t care for that kind of attention.”

  “That makes sense,” I agreed. “God Isis, you’ve seen so much.”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s it been like?” I wanted to ask if she ever got bored, and then I wondered, how long would it take to see everything the world had to offer? How long before you’d be ready to end it all, just for something to change. She chuckled softly as we moved down the path.

  “It’s been, sad, actually. I’ve seen entire civilizations crumble and fall Lina. I’d no time to become bored, or even, desensitized, when there were kings sent to dethrone me. Some wars last only years…some forever.” She was distant, her mind a million miles away. “Man, man has done many terrible things…” she sighed. “I would welcome boredom.”

  “Why go on breathing?” I grunted. Isis reached down to take my small hand in hers.

  “As with humans, we too, have a set of laws, commandments if will. One of those being, that we will not take death into our hands purposely.”

  “Suicide? You can’t just end it all, even if you’re thousands of years old and everyone you love is already gone? You have to stay here, alone?”

  “We are never alone Lina. Neither are you. The veil is thin, remember. It is only a matter of your mind to cross it. But it’s more than that. We endure because it is man’s journey that awakens us. It is he who we watch, protect, and follow. With the bad has always come the good and that is something to celebrate,” she said eloquently. I squinted into the sun and furrowed my own brow. “I have to be here for the day of ascension. I have to be present when all our lives collide and we decide what kind of world we care to exist in,” she answered a second later.

  “I see.”

  “Even amid the spoils of the earth, life yet blooms.” Isis plucked a smooth indigo lily from the path and gave it to me. Flowers this lovely didn’t grow back home and if you did come by one
, it was silk and cost 8.99 per stalk.

  “Afternoon Mrs. Bhari,” someone called to her from behind a black sports car. His voice made every hair of my neck stand on end. I broke the flower from the stem and put it in my hair—I wanted to savor it until the last of its petals shriveled and even then I’d probably stuff it in one of my books. The owner of the riveting voice showed himself, standing over the hood, drying his hands with a towel. I felt my knees tremble and my heart quicken. Isis zeroed in on my red cheeks and even though she said nothing, her face bled of color.

  “Isis?” I pulled her thumb, “who is that?” Before she could answer an elder gentleman a car over shot a warning glance to our greeter. The man dropped his eyes to the ground, but I could see that beneath his submission was an inherent sense of defiance.

  Isis acknowledged the one who looked like a hairy hobbit. His name she said, was Giovanni, and she added that he smelled of garlic, was a tad grabby, but she kept him on because he was loyal. The stout worker seemed smitten with her and did his best to keep up the conversation. The exchange reminded me of Esmerelda and Quasimodo. Isis obliged him, with reluctance she didn’t outwardly show. I sensed she was more interested in keeping me tight on her left arm, out of direct eye line of the younger man. He had to be the first person I’d seen so far, apart from Charles and Thomas, that even resembled my age—even they were in their late twenties. I wanted to smile at him, but it was like my lips wouldn’t move. He stared at me. I tried to force myself to look away but it was difficult. He was sort of, pretty. He swept a lock of hair from his face and I noticed the wash of amber in his eyes. I also noticed the curve of his jaw, the slight cleft in his chin and the stubble that rested there. Twenty-three maybe? Damn. My cheeks flushed. At this Isis practically hurled me away, making a b-line for the garden. My feet weren’t cooperative and I tripped over the inlet. I knew he saw but I couldn’t bear to turn around. Isis didn’t bother stopping either. She drug me along like a rag doll. When we were out of ear shot Isis stopped.

  “That was Will, Charles and Thomas’s brother,” she said, with no real excitement.

  “Will,” I repeated slowly.

  My throat was on fire. What a perfect name, I thought. I peeked around the stone wall, to catch another glimpse of him. To my shock and utter embarrassment, he was standing out from the row of cars, like he was doing the same thing. I met his eyes again but this time something had changed. Now he was smiling, at me. I tucked my hair back and tried to reciprocate. And that’s when I felt it: a dominant surge of heat that hit every inch of me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I hadn’t been this warm since I’d gotten here. It was the most erotic sensation I’d ever experienced. I was burning—I felt so… good. Will leaned against the wall and slowly brought his hand to his lips. Was music playing, or was that just the whirring in my head? He slowly dropped his palm to his chest. I hadn’t realized Isis was pulling, taking me away from the very best feeling in the world.

  “Wait, stop!” I yelled to her, but she wouldn’t listen. Only until we were hidden past the garden walls, and the men were totally out of sight, did she finally let go of me. I yanked my arm from her steel grip. “Why did you do that?! I’ve never been so humiliated!”

  “You mustn’t!” she roared.

  “I don’t understand?!” I shouted back at her, while rubbing my skin. It was nearly purple from her grabbing hold of me. She was terrifying. My eyes brimmed with tears; feelings that rarely ever got hurt, were hurt now.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Lina, oh dear, please forgive me.”

  “It’s fine,” I muttered, wiping my eye. “I only wanted to say hi,” I said, shrugging.

  “No, you’re right.” Isis took a glance at the damage and she wrapped my arms delicately in hers. After a few seconds I felt zero pain. I’d healed completely; it was incredible. “Would you believe me if I said I was being motherly and perhaps over protective?”

  “Ya think?” I complained. “This is better now, thanks.” I pulled away slower this time, and stared at her. “You’re not gonna try to give me a “sex” talk are you,” I said with quotations, “because my mom took care of that…like when I was ten?” I’d never even had sex. Jamie and I talked about it but it never happened. I was fine with that, especially now that we weren’t together anymore. No one needs that kind of regret, if they can help it. Besides, I had enough to deal with currently.

  “It isn’t about your virtue Lina and it isn’t about flirting, of which you are entitled.”

  “I should hope so, I’m an adult.” The bold statement made me feel even younger than I was.

  “For certain,” she said. Was that sarcasm?

  “What is it about then?” I combed her face for answers.

  “It’s nothing. I over-reacted, as you said.”

  “Liar, liar,” I sang accusingly. The corner of her lip curled up.

  “Fair enough,” she agreed. “Let’s say that, that one,” she gestured in the direction of Will, “is better left unsought.”

  “But why?” I pushed. “He looks like he’s close to my age.” For about thirty seconds I had felt better than I had in years and that, was something worth exploring. Her tone; however, told me I was barking up the wrong tree. I’d always had a knack for that. I’d also never lost a fight, or backed down from authority.

  “I get it,” she sighed, “you don’t like to be told what to do, but it is out of the question Lina. Heed my warning, please,” she finally begged.

  “Well if it’s that serious,” I muttered. Isis tapped my forehead. “Okay, okay. Done.” Isis didn’t try to hold my hand this time, which could’ve been attributed to my sulking like a five-year-old.

  “I have a surprise for you,” she said, her tone making amends.

  “Cool,” I laughed. I didn’t want to fight with her. Something told me, if my mom were here, they’d be on the same side. I wasn’t sure if that bugged, or comforted me. My mom loved Jamie. Hell, she would’ve adopted he and Jane, she adored them so much. Let another boy come into my life and she would all but stand on the lawn with a shotgun. Thankfully Isis took the high road and didn’t comment further on my pathetic love life.

  “What’s this place for?” I asked, as I reached for a tall blade of grass. My lip was still hanging from being reprimanded. Very mature, eighteen-year-old!

  “This is where the cats sleep.”

  “It looks like a small house.” Moss covered stones were scattered along the base of a quaint red cottage with oak trim. Behind it lay a small body of water with floating white lilies; encircling the pond were a fan of cattails. It reminded me of a Thomas Kinkade painting.

  “If they are not otherwise, engaged, I like for them to be comfortable,” Isis confirmed.

  “Talk about royal treatment. Do you carry them in your purse too?” I never understood why women did that. Hello?! Your dog is going to make a toilet out of your designer bag. Sick. Isis was stuck in my head a moment, reveling in what she quietly called my salacious humor.

  “You may wish to cover your ears. Their calls can be quite, intimidating.” Isis moved passed me preparing to reach the door.

  “Wha—?”

  I slowly brought my hands up. Isis placed a finger to her lips. Before I could take a step with her, a sound came from the building. “What the hell is that?!” I yelled to her. “Is that a lion?!” I began backing away. My pulse sputtered out of control as I waited. Isis spoke to them in her ancient tongue; her tone was firm as she turned the wrought iron handle. The heavy door gave way, revealing an empty tiny room, with solid wood walls and floors and soft animal skin bedding on the ground. No cats. “Where are they?” Before she could answer an enormous black satin paw pressed over the threshold, and with it the rumble of tigers. “Oh my God!” I fell on my backside, and began scooting as far away as I could. When all four were outside and I saw them in the light, I thought my heart would stop. They were cats alright, huge black panther-type cats, with wide Mau faces, and lar
ge violet eyes. They were thirteen maybe fourteen feet long. The tallest stood on its hind legs and pressed its thick paws onto Isis shoulders, licking her face excitably. I was horrified, but Isis never faltered beneath its weight.

  “These are my other babies,” she laughed as the rest collapsed over her. Within seconds their feral growling had turned to thunderous purring. Their soft pointed ears laid flush against their heads while Isis stroked them. I got to my feet but took another large step back. I was frozen in place, feeling equal measures of excitement and fear. The closest I’d ever come to the wild was the zoo, and even at that, the pride remained aloof to all the gawkers. I was lucky to come within fifty feet of them, through glass of course.

  “Come,” Isis encouraged me. I gaped back at her like she was insane.

  “No way!” I shrieked.

  “You are perfectly safe Lina,” she entreated once more.

  “No, I’m good right here.” The cats seemed curious and at least affectionate, but I couldn’t bring myself to get any closer despite Isis’ invitation. They had to weigh at least 900 lbs. Isis stroked them each with loving and gentle hands, while the precession of their purring felt like an earthquake beneath my feet. Isis signaled for them to sit. They obeyed. She seemed to have them under control, but I was still leery. My motto was, if it has fur and fangs, it should be admired from afar and preferably, beyond a thick pane of glass. I wasn’t lying when I told them I loved animals, because I did—I just didn’t care to be eaten by one. Like the ocean—it’s not my home and no amount of taunting from my friends would make me go swim with sharks—no ma’am!

  “They are here to protect you; it is what they were born to do. Anchille and I adore them immensely, but they know who is their master and their queen, don’t you my lovelies?” she asked them.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t.” It was the opportunity of a lifetime and I was letting it pass me by. I knew deep down I was much braver than this.

  “Lina,” Isis pushed, giving me such a face, as though I were shrinking from her. And I was.

  “Oh man,” I gulped, slowly shifting my body forward. I chose to approach the only one that was lying on its side. It seemed less, aware. I crouched down and reached one finger out to its paw. She remained still, and kept her gaze away, careful not to alarm me I think. When my hand made contact with her coat she rumbled a little and I jumped back. The cat leapt to her feet and licked my face, twice—its tongue felt like a sheet of heavy grit sandpaper. She raised her head back to attention. One of the smaller cats came near; she lifted her cool nose to my hand and I started to relax. I got on my knees and placed my palm against the animal’s thick hide. It shined brilliantly in the afternoon sun. I couldn’t help but smile then; they were magnificent. After that they all nudged my arms with unintentional force and I laughed as I stroked them back. From the moment I touched them, all my fears went away, even some of the ones I’d had earlier in the day. Maybe that was their true purpose, to make me relax. It was unbelievable.

  “So this is what it feels like to be Jane Goodall,” I said softly to Isis, who smiled back with pride. “What are their names?”

  Isis looked at the tallest, as if asking some question. Then she answered, “They’d like to introduce themselves.”

  “What do you me—?” Before I could finish there came an indescribable noise, like snapping bones and peeling flesh! I covered my eyes and ears, cowering from the flash of lightning and the deafening noise. When it was quiet again I still hadn’t opened my eyes.

  “Hello Lina,” a voice called. There in the place of one cat stood a naked girl, her long shiny black hair spilled down her perfectly supple body. She held her arms around herself, concealing her chest and bottom. My hand flew over my mouth and gave a moan.

  “It’s alright,” she told me.

  “Sitre?”

  “Surprise,” she said.

  “Mmm,” I whimpered again.

  “Shh, don’t be alarmed child,” said Isis, as the other three did the same a moment later. My ears were ringing. They ventured forward with lithe movements. Their grace was natural, yet so predatory even as women. As they drew nearer I could see the cats inside them. The feline pupils were the last bit of their phase to go, as they drew down to smaller circles.

  In the sunlight Khala’s scar shown more vividly, but no one would even look at that once they saw the rest of her. She shared her sister’s long dark hair and violet eyes, but her skin dazzled a peachy brown and she had a precious round face with a little tilt to the end of her nose. It could’ve been marked as snooty, due to her prickliness, but out here in nature, with her so exposed and vulnerable to the elements, it was disarming. I waved to her, wishing to be friends but not attempting to push it either. Omri’s China doll eyes gleamed bright lilac in the sun. She was Marilyn curvy in all the right places and had legs for days. I thought of the plane Amazon and couldn’t help but look down at my own petite stature. I didn’t hate Omri for it—I wanted to give her a high five, but I didn’t want to make her concealing hand move. She laughed. I couldn’t help but stare and my face soon felt warm. She only smiled appreciatively, gifting me with her endearing dimples. Isha shoved passed them both, trying to get to center stage. She, like me, was a good foot and a half shorter than them. She reached forward and pulled me into her bare chest to hug me.

  “Oh…okay,” I said as I patted her shoulders. What was such an awkward moment for me, was totally comfortable for Isha. It wasn’t so much that they were naked in broad daylight, but that they’d revealed their true identity. After learning about Isis and Anchille, and my father, and me, I shouldn’t have been shocked that other things existed as well. It made me very curious about what else was out there.

  “I’m happy,” Isha sang in my ear. “Now we can have some fun!”

  “Great,” I mumbled beneath her hair. It was silky and smelled like olive lotion and lavender. I figured anything this lovely couldn’t be all bad.

  “Lina, the girls have only one mission and that is making sure you are safe. They are highly gifted and know their purpose well. You can speak with them through your thoughts…if of course you choose,” Isis said. She moved back toward the path that led to the main house. I stood like a gawking tourist at the scene of an accident. She kept moving.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” I stumbled over the bushes to reach her, fearing I wouldn’t be able to handle this new situation.

  “The girls know what to do Lina, trust in your guardians. I want the five of you to get acquainted.” Isis face possessed a hidden smile. “You will be together a long time, best to get started now.”

  “But!”

  “You shall be well cared for Lina. I must gather Ash and Khan now. Their lessons have ended and I’m to keep to a promise.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’m taking them into London today.”

  “You’re going too? When will you be back?” I was starting to feel abandoned.

  “Don’t fret child. Rinalde will cook for you and I’m sure your day will be fun filled. Go and explore, enjoy yourself.” Isis looked to each of the girls. “Albaqa' beyda ean almaqdunia.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Omri nodded to her. The other girls were smiling in a way that left me wondering if they weren’t laughing about some private joke. My hands flew to my sensitive ears as that terrible ripping and thunderous sound emanated from their naked phasing bodies. Isis turned from them with a look of satisfaction and I saw that each of them had returned to their feline forms once more.

  “I’ll leave you to it my dear.”

  “Alright,” I agreed reluctantly.

  Isis moved back to the main house shockingly fast; it was good no other humans could see it. Then I remembered we were alone out here, away from prying eyes and snooping neighbors. They’d built a virtual fortress among the craggy mountain ranges and un-inhabited terrain. It was brilliant actually. I laughed inside at the absurdity of the day. No one back home would ever believe me, not in a million years. I didn’t even believe i
t. Then again, I was far from anything familiar, from anything remotely depressing—I couldn’t have been more excited at least at that prospect. Despite these dark revelations, there came a welcome change, and that was cause for jubilation.

  As I pushed my way through a web of spiny branches and trees, I heard the sounds of crunching earth behind me. We moved into what I thought was the start of the woods, and all the while I could feel four pairs of energetic eyes on my back. I couldn’t bring myself to look at them; I was still astonished by their size and the fact that they existed at all. I stopped unexpectedly and a silence followed. I closed my eyes and pinched the soft skin between my thumb and forefinger hard.

  Yep, I’m awake, I thought clearly.

  A rustling of leaves swept up around me and with it the tickly sound of laughter. I whirled around. We’re they laughing at me? I walked on again. They followed. This time one of them sniffed my clothing; the end of their nose inadvertently pushed me forward. I closed my eyes and as soon as I did images of palace courtyards, fountains of crystal blue water and heavenly sculpted statues filled my head. It was like a slow movie reel, showing me their past. A room full of ebony haired Egyptian women danced to the drum of some antediluvian tune and the scent of incense filled the air around them. At the center of my vision, seated on either side of a regal queen, sat these timeless creatures, these Egyptian Mau’s. They lovingly licked themselves and looked out over the dancing women with pride.

  Welcome home, Omri said, in the midst of my daydream.

  12. Resentments

  “This is so weird.”

  You’ll get used to it, Sitre nudged me. Dreams help to guide us to our true purpose.

  “My grandma always told me, there are many worlds, that our dreams were a way of seeing them.” I didn’t really want to. If there was only a thin cloak between us and that next place, I could wait.

  You might feel differently, one day, sent Omri. There’s a promise that lingers, the certainty we will live on, as we are now.

  I nodded that I understood. “Today, I’m happy to walk a while.”

  The forest was a lush playground, spongy, green, and full of life. My feet tread softly over the abyss of red needles and twigs which were drenched in white sap. The air was clear, full of the earthy smell of the swaying pines. My companions spread out, but still covered me from every angle. I glanced to a hole in the top of the trees; the rays had escaped through the clouds, lighting the woodland floor. Sitre’s gleaming lens shone brightly in the sun, casting a single violet ray upon the ground. I held my hand out to her and she bumped it tenderly. As we traveled along the inlet near the lower ravine, the animals were in full activity. Red squirrels and rabbits scampered excitedly away from us, beneath the Alders, Birches and blowing Ash trees. The girls sniffed the air; their ears pricked, deciphering distant sounds that I couldn’t hear. Sitre stayed at my side, brushing her large black shoulder against the edge of my sweater. Isha spread her claws out over the grass and scraped in the same manner an ordinary house cat would, only the gashes she left in the dirt were nearly the size of tire tracks. How does this work, I wondered? How did I talk to them with my mind?

  We can hear you Lina, Omri answered my thought. You have questions?

  Did I? “Does it hurt to change?” I asked. My head was hammering for more answers than that, like which form did they prefer? How old were they and where did they come from? Did they have a human mother and father and if so, where were they? Were they considered gods too, or more shape shifters? If there were these Mau’s, and the Blood Gods, what else was there in the world, an—?

  Damn girl! Khala groaned.

  Omri laughed. Please.

  “Sorry,” I offered, feeling like a flake.

  It’s alright Lina. I can keep up. Let’s see, does it hurt? She reflected. A bit.

  Now now Omri, don’t lie to the girl, Khala interrupted.

  Quiet, she warned her. The large cat scuffed the ground, snorting.

  Omri continued. I like both forms for different reasons and my sisters can tell you themselves how they feel. I think we all share a common love of the hunt, the freedom we experience running in the hills.

  Ha! Khala sniped again. In Egypt we were free, unencumbered. Here, Khala stared at me. Here we are close to prisoners.

  You never ate so well! Omri argued before turning back to me. Her shoulders slumped and she sighed. We were born of a mother and father, like you, but they have long since passed on. To be chosen by Goddess Bast-et is a great honor, Omri peered over at Khala, one that even you relish. Any that follow the path of the guardian has immortal life, so long as there is a king and queen to serve. The place we called home ran along the Nile in Lower Egypt and there is where we grew up until our great mother called us home. We do not consider ourselves gods, but devout priestesses of the order of Ubast.

  “You were chosen for this life.”

  Correct.

  “And what about other immortals? Are there more than the Guardians and the Dam Ilah?” There seemed to be a lengthy and uncomfortable pause and I wondered if I’d hit another nerve.

  We must be more discreet, she finally admitted.

  “Which translates to, you can’t or won’t tell me?”

  Omri rose above Sitre’s languid body to press her gigantic paw into the earth. The red soil separated as her long claws marked deep hieroglyphs into the ground. It was a picture. When she moved away I saw the shape of the moon and two cat-headed women holding sistrums in each hand. They were dancing. Children played at their feet. This is all we are allowed to show you Lina. This is who we are; guardians to the king and queen and protectors of their children.

  “Ash and Khan.”

  As well as their many other children.

  “They have more?”

  The entire coven consists of all those in Isis’ original court in Achaia.

  Well, Khala snuffed, those that survived anyway.

  “What do you mean? Survived what?” I asked. Omri shot Khala a dreadful look of disappointment. The younger sister zipped it quick. “Omri?”

  It was a dark time Lina.

  I guess that answered that.

  We continued walking around the western edge of the woods, and the whole time I kept staring at the girls, marveling at them and wanting to know more. An avenue of Yews draped over the path, shrouding mossy patches of gorgeous unspoiled earth. As the sun’s rays slipped through the impenetrable grey sky, its warmth danced over our faces. I’d never seen such enchantment in all my life and I was soon lost in my own thoughts, momentarily forgetting my quiet companions and my questions.

  Is something troubling you? Isha brought me back.

  “Hmm? Oh no, I’m fine,” I said. “Hey,” I pointed, “what’s Khala doing?” She was suddenly crouched low to the ground; her growl became a rumble, and soon all that could be seen of her in the late afternoon light were her two sharp reflectors. She stalked forward before Isha could answer. A few tiny finches sputtered about before flying out from under the trees. A hawk’s wings flapped frantically as he too flew away, seeking out a less threatening area of the forest to hunt for prey. Khala snarled.

  Do you mind!?

  Oh, Khala! Leave the animals alone!

  Shut up, I’m hungry, she growled. I grew faint when I realized what she planned to do. My eyes caught the deer in the distance, lapping water. The entire wood stood still.

  “Oh…oh please don’t,” I begged her. Khala was several feet away now, slipping flush to the ground, but I knew she’d heard.

  It’s what I do. She reminded me matter-of-factly. I buried my face in my sweater, waiting for the slaughter to be over. The drinking at the brook continued peacefully until…the formidable sound of two bodies colliding, further suspended all life in the woods. A high pitched squeal rang through the treetops until there was no longer even a murmur in the air. Khala pranced back to us, her face bloodied and her body swollen from consuming the deer. I could barely meet her gratified expression wi
thout losing my breakfast.

  “Did you have to do that?”

  We eat Lina. This isn’t a fairytale!

  “Fine, maybe fair warning next time,” I suggested. She lobbed her head to the ground mockingly. Her black face was already clean.

  Yes, your highness. However, I can please you.

  Khala, that will be all, Omri ordered her as the young cat snuffed and kicked the ground before stalking to a nearby tree. She thrust her body up its trunk and began scratching.

  “Yuck,” I said, deciding to completely ignore Khala. She clearly wasn’t interested in making nice. Fine. Me neither. We moved ahead. I was happy to give the poor carcass a wide berth. “Are there any perks?” I asked the others.

  Eternal beauty! Isha chimed. Omri and Sitre nodded in agreement, strutting around like peacocks—showing off their flawless coats, like models on a runway!

  Yeah, yeah, our one and only gain! Khala growled from her scraping post.

  The girls pounced on her, and began teasing and ruffling her fur. She snapped at them, swiping one in the backside with her gigantic paw. I tried to ease the rising tension between them by moving ahead toward the incline of the fell, hoping this would draw them from the friction I was sure was coming. Khala was full of what my gran called, piss and vinegar. Anyone could see it written all over her face. She carried her burdens and frustrations right on her skin. I was amazed anyone could get close to her, or maybe, other than her sisters, she really had no one. In any case I was determined to forge on, up the narrow path. The sky continued to change first from bluish orange, then dark pink and at long last purple. As the last traces of daylight seeped back under the horizon, I let out a frustrated sigh. It was such a large area to examine, there was no way I could do it all in a day. I didn’t think it could be done in month.

  Tired? Sitre asked later.

  Sorta, I said mentally. My head didn’t feel the greatest after whacking it this morning—the conversations of the day didn’t serve to alleviate the pressure either. I was tempted to go back, but a curious rebellion in the pit of my stomach urged, go farther, something is waiting, go farther. “Let’s keep going,” I told them, even though the tight material of the thin soled boots was digging into my small toe. I slid them off and felt instant relief as I placed them carefully inside my bag. “On second thought.” I stopped to rest near a large boulder. The girls found spots to lie beside me. They circled the earthen floor then settled, like sphinxes. Isha purred at my side so I patted her back. She rolled into my legs, shoving herself at me.

  “Not rubbing your belly right now,” I teased her. She pushed her big paws into the ground which shoved me harder. “Needy.” At least she was being mindful of my feet. I knew she could crush them if she wasn’t careful. I scratched her belly and rubbed her thick ears back. Finally, I dared near her fang. It was long and curved over slightly smaller lower teeth. She could cut through my flesh with ease, like butter. I grimaced. Before I could pull away Isha licked my hand. I couldn’t help but startle anyway.

  You look nervous, growled Khala from a few feet away.

  “I am not,” I protested, glancing around at them. “I’m not, I know you won’t hurt me.” They were silent, only staring back with skepticism.

  Don’t worry Lina, humans don’t taste good, Isha sent with a laugh.

  “They do to vampires, apparently,” I muttered, getting to my feet and brushing off my clothes.

  They do to a lot of things, but, Isha’s right, you certainly don’t smell like dinner to me, said Khala.

  “I should hope not!” I told her, walking away. “Besides you just ate a whole deer,” I called over my shoulder, “a poor defenseless deer. You ate Bambi!” The girls laughed.

  Khala rolled onto her back to scratch. I’ll eat lots of things, if I get hungry enough.

  I whirled back. “Is that a threat?!”

  No, it isn’t Lina. Khala was being facetious. We eat animals, ONLY, sent Omri.

  “Good.”

  Lydas would enjoy this, very much, Sitre announced as she stretched her neck to look up at the first star.

  Lydas got a lot of laughs at Khala’s expense, said Omri.

  “Who’s that?” I asked, walking away from Khala and her huge bloodstained chompers.

  My mate, Sitre confirmed.

  “Where’s he?”

  Gone.

  “Oh.” I wasn’t sure what gone meant and I was too afraid to ask.

  He’s dead, she answered me.

  “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry Sitre.” I hated myself for even asking her at all. There was remoteness in her gaze and I didn’t need to know anything more other than he was once the love of her life. I had seen that same look days ago, with Jamie.

  You both were fools! Khala hissed.

  Shut up you! Sitre shot back at her.

  It’s true. Stop lying to yourself!

  “I don’t get it, what’s wrong?” I asked.

  It’s nothing, certainly not anything they should be discussing now, Omri got in between Khala and Sitre, to stave off their argument.

  Sitre crossed the line, Omri. She didn’t follow the order, and that’s why she lost her mate—a mate she was never supposed to have! shouted Khala.

  I told you to be quiet! Sitre’s shoulders began to rise and I feared she may lunge at her outspoken sister.

  You are to blame for his death, said Khala. Sitre made a motion toward her.

  “You guys please,” I interceded too.

  They’re the reason for it all! Khala continued, as Sitre made her way closer. She didn’t back down. Clearly, she was not willing to listen to Omri or me. I wanted to know what she was talking about. Isha came to my side, I think deliberately staying out of the other girls’ way.

  “The reason for what?” I asked Khala but I would have taken any of their responses.

  Why don’t you ask Sitre? She fell in love with one of them! Khala barked viciously.

  You bitch! Sitre snarled back at her.

  I’m just telling Lina the truth and it hurts doesn’t it, kalb lover!

  I hate you!

  That is enough! Omri commanded them.

  “Omri, tell me. What does she mean, fell in love with one? What’s a, kalb?”

  A kalb is a dog, and Khala knows that she is using the term out of context as a means of hurting Sitre! And she will stop now, won’t you? Omri put her paw on the younger cat’s shoulder. Of course Khala knocked it away belligerently.

  Wabawawut w kalab alssayd lah! she screamed in Arabic. If they’d stayed away, none of this would have happened! I could have remained with my real family. Isha and I would not be forced to live like this! She’s my true sister, my birth sister! I only inherited you two, by default!

  And I you! Sitre cried to her. You’d also have died two thousand years ago Khala. It’s Bastet that gave you eternal life, not Marhamet and Echneid! You don’t appreciate anything!

  Don’t you talk about my parents, Sitre. Don’t you even utter their names! Your filthy mutt’s the reason they’re dead!!!

  That’s a lie!

  I found them Sitre, remember! Khala screamed. It was I who came back to the farm...the blood, everywhere, it stained the crops, all the trees, the front door, she gagged.

  Khala stop please! pleaded Isha

  Her sister ignored her and spun into Sitre’s face. Your love, and his pack of deserters, covered in my family’s blood!

  Khala! Omri shouted at her. You do this every time she brings up Lydas, every time and it isn’t fair, not to Sitre, and not to us. She should be allowed to speak of him whenever she needs.

  You always side with her! Khala roared. Omri shoved her against a looming Spruce. Needles ricocheted to the ground at their feet. Isha and I stood even closer together, our bodies compressed in fear. Isha was the youngest and by far the tamest, from what I could tell. I sensed her pain but also her reluctance to side with her sibling. Khala was lodged between the trunk and Omri’s heavy paw. She turned her head to Sit
re. Your selfishness, nearly killed us all.

  Lies, Sitre whispered, all lies!

  And you forget yourself in this place, playing nursemaid to the queen! You forget the past and what we all know to be true! They took us for their brides, with promises of a better life, and then they left us to die. They abandoned us and you know what…he abandoned you as well! Khala’s violet eyes flamed red with anger. Isha and I were now invisible to this embittered trio.

  You were born much later! I’m the oldest remember!? Omri and I! We were alive when the Daughters of Sek-met and the Sons of Lycos were allies. We were alive when their soldiers helped defend our kingdom, and shed rivers of blood all for us! And yes, I loved one. And he was glorious, and kind, and the most faithful man I’d ever met. My heart bled for him, it bleeds for him still!

  Yes, sent Khala, but I must be imprisoned here to defend land that isn’t my own. I stalk the grounds night after night waiting for an attack that is imminent and all for what; for the possibility that this child, this human is the answer to our salvation, why? Why Omri, she turned back, must we stay when it is so clear that we are already defeated? You know no one will come. Omri released her and Khala fell to the ground, her face sullen. The elder cat bowed her head.

  You’ve misplaced your faith sister. You’ve turned your back on your own humanity. I don’t know how to help you through this; I fear you will be lost to us soon, Khala, Omri spoke, eying the younger cat decisively.

  You’ll not shun me Omri! she petitioned. I am not a kitten in a litter that is already too large! I’ll not be ignored nor left behind!

  Then stop working so hard to divide us! Omri cautioned her.

  Khala stalked to a nearby group of white boulders as big as cars. She leapt onto them and turned her back to us. I couldn’t believe what was happening…to see them so broken was terrible. Omri stood protectively around Sitre who lay on her belly, her pained face was still lowered to the ground listening to Khala. She’d become very quiet after the large cats’ infuriated words—she was almost too calm. The air circled us in a balmy stream—a storm was brewing. I knew how foolish I would sound if I asked if they were finished, but I didn’t care to be caught in the rain. No one answered or moved even a limb in response. Only Omri once more addressed the girls.

  Neither of you can change the past. Khala, you cannot make Sitre be what you want her to be. Her soul is her own and likewise is yours. Forgive each other please, for all our sakes. Low objections came from my right, and I sighed again, hoping Khala would walk over. Sitre still made no sound until she whispered to me and to me alone. Her eyes burned intensely behind Omri’s back.

  When it happens for you, hold on with both hands. Don’t ever let go, no matter what they tell you.

  “Hold onto what Sitre, what do you mean?” I said with wide eyes. She didn’t answer. The violet of her irises suddenly became blue black like the sky, so hollow and empty. She forced Omri’s massive feline body out of her way. Isha roused, maybe in preparation to stop another fight. Sitre approached Khala as though she held white sails.

  You are my sister no matter what our bloodline, so I will tell you this plain. After all these years I live with only one regret, that Lydas and I hadn’t had a child. I loved him that much, that I would have died for them both. It’s not the seed of Wepwawet or Lycion’s sons that have been stalking the grounds Khala, and you know that! You hate them for no reason. They remind you of the past…of those bloodthirsty devils, none of us would argue with you. We know what this means to you and to Isha, none of us has forgotten, but you mustn’t make things so awful between you and I because of it. It wasn’t my fault or Lydas’ fault that your family was butchered! This time Khala gave a shrill scream, whirling around to meet Sitre dead on.

  That child would never have survived! Forget the fact that it is forbidden, forget the fact that it is an abomination! Even in your human form, the two of you could not have made that child, and if the two of you had succeeded, they would have killed it, and burned you both alive!

  The sound of thunder roared over us, and Sitre heaved herself forward, lunging at Khala with the full force of her body. It was less than a second; the others didn’t have time to respond, before the two girls were tumbling about the ground. There was such a tangled mess of black fur, snapping teeth, and vicious claws; we barely saw them strike. When they collided, there was insufferable yelping. Their thin tails rest moments on the muddy ground before they leapt back into the air, in order to dominate one other. That’s when I smelled it: the rain mixed with their blood. It was the thickest, most potent stench that ran wild onto the wet ground beneath them. I began to taste the copper, as I held my fist over my mouth. I saw Khala’s jaws snap at Sitre’s neck, her three inch teeth stained bright red. Their eyes were black with fury, each one convinced she was right. Isha and Omri shouted at the two of them to stop but they ignored their pleas. I turned and ran up the path away from them. I found a small grassy mound, and hurled myself on it, holding my torso firm in my palms. I fought down the sickness as best I could. I hadn’t eaten in several hours and the stinging of sour bile rose in my throat. I fought to rid my mind of the horrid smell. The rocks beneath me felt cool, I laid my left cheek against one of them, slipping my right arm over my face as a shield against the weather. I let complete darkness take over. I didn’t know how long I’d laid there limply over that boulder, but when I came to it was officially night. The sky was a canvas of fluffy blue and silver lined clouds surrounding a pearl moon. I moaned, closing my eyes again, enjoying the cool breeze over my face. The last wave of nausea finally wore off, but my stomach felt empty, and my mouth was dry as the desert. I startled when I looked up to a ring of raven hair and four pairs of flickering purple eyes. I couldn’t scream—I was paralyzed.

  “Have a nice nap?” asked a very naked, and bloody Khala. She didn’t bother shielding herself, nor did the other girls who too were in human form.

  “Maybe she’s asleep,” said Isha.

  “She looking right at us stupid,” Khala snipped, while yanking debris from her messy hair.

  “Stop arguing. And you,” Omri addressed Khala. “You should be ashamed.”

  “Let’s get her to the cottage, it’s too late to go back now, she’ll never make it,” Sitre suggested. She was full of cuts and bruises and blood. I didn’t know if it was hers, or Khala’s.

  “But what about what Isis said?” asked Isha, motioning for the mansion far in the distance.

  “We can’t be troubled with her warning now. Lina needs help,” said Omri. Then she leaned over me, draping her soft hair over my chest. “Can you walk?” I moaned back at her.

  “Right,” she declared, “We’ll carry her.”

  “Let’s go quickly then please, it’s getting cold out here,” Isha replied, tossing a crusty glance in Khala’s direction.

  “Do you sense?” asked Omri, coiling her hair from her body as she hoisted me in her arms.

  “No, but I don’t care to be caught out here, like this,” she gestured to their lack of clothing.

  I heard their voices over the wind, and in the far off distance, the sound of…no, the smell of sunlight, and, honey...Whatever it was, wherever it was, I wanted to find it fast.

  “What in the hell?”

  “I know,” Isha meowed with laughter.

  “Well we can’t allow it.

  “What choice do we have, we’re almost there,” Isha reminded Omri.

  “He better be on his best behavior. In fact,” the eldest lowered herself to the ground, propping me momentarily.

  “What are you doing?” asked Sitre.

  “We aren’t going to the cabin, like this.” Omri looked at each of her sisters. “Phase back.”

  “What?!” Sitre shrieked.

  “You heard me, do it!”

  “I don’t give a shit who sees me naked Omri, I’m tired, and hungry, and thanks to Khala,” she snarled, “I’ll need four days to recover.”

  Khala jeered back. “Ha
ve Ahkmenotep give you a rabies shot!”

  Omri silenced them both. “You should have thought about that before acting like animals.”

  “Um, we are animals,” Khala quipped.

  Omri flashed on her, snatching the young girl by her throat. “Phase, NOW, and don’t make me ask you again. Do it, and maybe I won’t punish the lot of you!”

  Khala gurgled a hiss at her, grabbing her hands to remove herself. “FINE!”

  Thunder and lightning clapped through the sky. Isha turned with less difficulty, while Sitre and Khala staggered and limped to Omri’s side. The elder retrieved me from the cold ground.

  This is a mistake Omri. They’re dangerous, allies or not! Khala complained.

  I think he’s nice looking, for a…you know. Meows followed.

  Oh Isha!

  What, he is! You’re so stupid Khala!

  Both of you stop! We’re not alone out here!

  I was enjoying my serenity, apart from my legs that felt like ice beneath the thin pants. They began to shiver—the ends of my sweater had become so damp, leaving my arms numb. I felt my body hovering over the ground, and moving in an upward motion. The chilly air stung my face. I knew I should turn back, but something was pressuring me to continue. I had to follow the heavenly scent. My eyes came into focus in the wash of light ahead. A small cabin sat far off the path, partially covered by moss and ivy. I laughed breathlessly. Around me the arguing continued.

  Why would you attack me?

  Because you open your big mouth when you know you shouldn’t.

  I do it at least every fifty years, why did you get so upset today?

  I’m tired of it, Khala.

  Us too! Isha chimed.

  You took a clump of my hair out! Khala grumbled, ignoring her.

  You deserved it. It’ll grow back in a few hours, Sitre was laughing hysterically.

  I’m bald, Khala cursed.

  Don’t be such a baby.

  I was laughing too, but I don’t think it was with them. I was lost in my own world. We stepped toward the walkway that led to the front door. Warm life moved within. I could feel them, and the heat coming off their bodies. My jaw flexed and my mouth began to water.

  “Put me down,” I ordered. Suddenly I felt wide awake and in a huge hurry.

  Okay, but Lina, the only reason we’re here—

  Save your breath Omri. Don’t even bother warning her. She won’t listen anyway.

  Omri, you don’t think she’s already, you know?

  There was a lengthy and uncomfortable gap, one that I couldn’t be bothered with.

  “Come on!” I encouraged as I skittered over to one of the windows in order to steal a glance inside. I stepped onto a rock and cupped my hands over the glass. I could barely see inside which frustrated me. I hopped down and brushed myself off, attempting to straighten my clammy sweater. I pulled the hood down from my hair until I realized it would be a mistake. Strands that had once bounced with curl, now lay limp as wet noodles around my dirty face. I put my hood back up. A shadow crossed in front of the window I was just nosily gawking in. The body moved sinuously back and forth, like a panther. I halted, tipping my body back on both heels. A whirl of butterflies scattered in my belly as we waited at the door. The girls formed an impenetrable circle around me as a flood of yellow light shone on our quartet.

  “Hello.” Will’s deep voice made me shudder, everywhere. “This is a surprise.” I tried peering around Omri’s large shoulder. It was clear my guardians were taking their posts very seriously.

  We need to come inside, sent Omri.

  Will assessed our group and then he found me, tucked between them. “I see,” he said. I managed to meet his eye from beneath my hood. He smiled. “And there you are.”

  “Here I am,” I answered, smiling back.

  13. Wolf’s Den

  “You look frozen dear.” Will backed away from the awning, giving us a very wide entry. My guardians whined in chorus, with two stepping to him in affront—puffed chests, bared fangs, yet Will’s eyes never shifted from mine. This irked Khala to no end.

  I really hate him, she told the others, then she rose her fangs to Will. I really hate you.

  Khala! Omri cautioned her.

  Now that isn’t very nice, Will spoke to her silent thought.

  I surmised then, that he was like Isis and Anchille: a Blood God with supersonic hearing. I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed—I wanted someone here to be human like me. Will gave me a crooked grin that I ineptly dodged. I realized I would need to be extra careful with my thoughts around him. After taking stock of my current needs from head to toe—I was desperate for warmth, food, and safety—I admitted defeat and entered. I kept my eyes down-cast as I passed him. My guardians followed, human like in their closeness; one at a time they shoved their way inside. Will smiled at them pleasantly, but as Khala brushed next to him he dared to touch her coat. She turned on him instantly, taking a satisfying chomp at his exposed skin. She missed, mostly, but Will held it for a few seconds, as he would’ve from the near miss of a car door. He backed away more respectfully and Khala sniffed in triumph. The room smelled of fresh summer pine and burning wood from the fireplace, but all those aromas could not hope to mask the potent, virile one that had drawn me here. I hadn’t been able to place it before but Will reminded me of home, and of our backyard in summertime, when the Honeysuckle is in full bloom and Costas has lit the fire pit. I didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh.

  Oie, Omri grieved.

  It might not be such a bad thing, Isha proposed amiably.

  Oh Isha please, he no more smells of her home then he does of a man bathed! It reeks in here of rotten meat. Where are your hideous brothers anyway?! Khala growled.

  Stop being so mean, I sent to her.

  Will pursed his lips in amusement before answering. “They’re around, somewhere.”

  She mumbled absently and I decided I couldn’t concern myself with their arguments. I was too exhausted. I sat down on a small blue couch, cuddling as close to the warmth of the cushions as I could. My attention continued to be interrupted by Will’s shifting body. Every slight movement or turn sent chills up my spine. I tried to breathe into my shirt. I inhaled deeply, filling my burning lungs with stifled wet air. I felt refreshed momentarily, as I analyzed Will’s room and a large painting over the fireplace. It was a portrait of a man, with burning skin and a noble expression. Behind him were several thousand faces—a sea of similar noses, mouths and tawny eyes. They were brilliant against the obsidian background. A pendant with a mysterious emblem on the front lay at his chest. I peered closer and realized it was some sort of animal, a jackal. The skin on my arms prickled. It was disturbing.

  Don’t feel bad, Lina. I don’t like that damn painting either, Khala admitted. It gives me the creeps! Not Sitre though, she thinks they’re beautiful! Didn’t you have a fling with Anubis once too?

  I could give you a symmetrical scar to match your other one, if you like? Sitre offered. At this Will chuckled.

  Oooo! Khala sneered. One fang shone in the light.

  Enough! Omri begged them. For goodness sake! Then she approached our sexy inn keeper. Will, we are only here for Lina to get warm, to perhaps eat and to rest and then we will take her back to Isis and Anchille in the morning. Let’s keep that in the forefront of all our minds, shall we? she commanded. Will simply nodded with a wink in Isha’s direction. She giggled excitedly.

  She really was smitten with him, I gathered.

  “Of course Omri, whatever you say,” he told her.

  It’s not what I say, Will. It is what your queen expects, she retorted.

  “Yes, I understand,” he agreed. If I didn’t know better, I’d say his tone was defiant. Was that why Isis had said he was off limits, because he was a bad boy? I analyzed his mannerisms, enjoying each and every thrilling tingle.

  Lina I can’t wait to see this whole thing bite you in the ass, just like Sitre, Khala sent to me before circlin
g the floor to lie down. Sitre ignored her as they had been batting at each other, but it was much more playful now. She only knocked Khala softly and assumed a space for herself. Before she closed her eyes Sitre told me to ignore her. Soon heavy breathing escaped their muzzles. I was glad that they finally agreed to disagree for the evening. The last thing I wanted was to see them fight again. It had been so frightening. Once the cats were quiet Will slipped into a kitchenette off the main room. He returned with a tray and a silver glass. He set it before me and quickly jutted away. I glanced at him with deep gratitude because in all honesty, I was ready to bite his arms off I was so ravenous. Will’s eyes widened with shock.

  I’d like to see that! Khala grumbled over her paw, her eyes still closed.

  “Will you be quiet?! I shouted. She huffed and went to sleep. I glowered in satisfaction as I snatched up the sandwich and brought it ferociously to my lips. Will’s golden lenses flamed as he tossed me a square pillow. I smiled and placed it at the small of my back. He laid his head in his hands on the arm of the opposite sofa, watching me like a dog waiting for praise. There was a gruff exhale from the floor that I chose to ignore.

  “Thank you for taking us in…and for…” I couldn’t finish. How hot you are, was what I wanted to say. I nearly choked on a corner of lettuce as Will coughed hard into the cushion. “For feeding me,” I said lightly. I was totally mortified. So much for guarding my thoughts!

  “It’s just turkey on rye,” he winked. I gulped down the thinly shaved meat. Was he teasingly comparing himself to a bland, boring sandwich? Was he crazy? He was in no way shape or form like a tasteless piece of fowl! Will was something much more exotic and succulent than that.

  Crap! Shut up, I told myself.

  “This is your house?” I asked, hurriedly devouring the cold sandwich and bits of cheddar. I hadn’t the heart to tell him I was semi lactose and gluten intolerant. I’d be paying for this later.

  Will frowned. “I could look for something else for you, if you like?”

  “No,” I mumbled with a full mouth, “this is fine, seriously.” Gross, chew dummy, don’t talk, chew! I waited for him to answer.

  “It’s my house, sometimes,” he answered thoughtfully, tracing patterns in the dark blue fabric of the couch. I watched him, watched his strong hands make those lines and again I had to force uncontrollable thoughts from my head. I continued to struggle with my need to regain strength and fill my sore belly, but also the desire to stare at him. I could feel every fiber of my body tighten, knowing that this one was better left alone as Isis had warned. Yet all the signs attesting to the hidden danger couldn’t drag me away from him. I knew in that very instant, as I sipped on hot tea and nibbled a few more bites, I didn’t care to be anywhere else. It made me a little sad, and a whole lot guilty.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” I glanced out the window. The top floors of the mansion shown over the tree-line; the windows were softly lit. Was Isis waiting up for me, was she worried? More importantly, was she angry? I was sure she knew exactly where I was, and that I should go back. “Oh well,” I muttered, sighing to myself. Will’s full mouth parted slightly. He slid his tongue across his top lip. The action was smooth yet deliberate. My word! He didn’t speak but there was laughter behind his stunning eyes.

  I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I bit my own bottom lip and instantaneously felt the rush of blood hit the surface. Then he smiled wide, and I saw that his eye teeth were formed to two identical points, like Isis and Anchille. A low rumble escaped his chest, and his nostrils flared. He watched me predatorily. As I moved the plate to the coffee table, he continued, moving only his eyes left then right again, the pupils enlarged, and hungry. I cowered and cringed, shutting my eyes, fearing the inevitable shift into the supernatural. I felt Will sit upright. When his hands found mine I shuddered violently.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  “No,” I whined.

  “Please?”

  “I know all about you, I just don’t want to see, not tonight. I’ve seen enough!” I told him.

  “You don’t know about me Lina.”

  I opened my eyes. Will’s flowed between dark amber and bright citrine. I looked at his bronze skin that in the midday sun had been a deep tan but now looked burnt red, and full of some instinctive power. I hadn’t realized how warm the room had become until he stood to remove his t-shirt. My face pinched, knowing what I would in moments have to endure. He smirked, tossing it carelessly aside and I wanted to die, right then and there. Aside from my fear, there were places inside my body that were sizzling out of control!

  “Huh,” I breathed fast and got to my feet to get away from him. “Thomas and Charles, they’re your brothers, aren’t they?” Why was I asking a question I already knew the answer to? Yes, yes, brothers for God’s sake. Anyone could tell that. They all shared the same crow black hair and excessive muscles—a friggen six-foot trio carved from the mold of a Spartan. Before he could reply I was taking off my sweater and pacing. “It’s hot in here, I’m hot.” I was also blurting. I did that, when I was nervous.

  “Do you need some air?”

  I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. “I’m fine,” I said, stopping in front of the mantle. There were three photos of Will, Charles and Thomas; a camping trip, a shot at one of the summits, and the last looked really old, and maybe taken in the desert. “Brothers,” I whispered.

  “They are,” he admitted patiently. I turned to face him. He was standing, flexing actually. I should have been repulsed at the display but I wasn’t. Quite the opposite.

  “And you’re like Isis and Anchille? You’re all, Dam Ilah?”

  “Nope.” He stopped posturing and crossed his arms. His hair was about twelve inches longer than his brothers and hung in waves over his chest.

  “How is that possible?” They had to be Dam Ilah! They sure as hell weren’t human. No humans looked like this, and they certainly didn’t behave this way, at least none I’d ever met. There was Jamie. He was as close to a god on earth as I could tell, but he still didn’t possess this kind of magic. Will sorta grimaced in the wake of my thoughts.

  “It’s, complicated,” he said fairly low, while glancing at my guardians.

  “I’ll bet,” I muttered. What else could he be?

  “Before I answer that, I’d like you to know that I would never harm you anyway.”

  “Heard that before.”

  “I wanted to be clear.”

  “It’s clear.” I nodded to him, and sat down. He smiled. My cheeks burned then, like days spent in the blistering sun. I knew I was completely and utterly powerless. Will sat on the couch next to me with swift deliberate movements. My heart rate accelerated. He knew he made me uncomfortable but worked very hard not to make it obvious out of courtesy. I appreciated that. Maybe he wasn’t such a peacock. That was refreshing.

  “Thank you,” he said gently.

  “For?”

  “Trusting me.”

  “Who said I trusted you. I don’t trust any of you, yet” I admitted.

  “Thank you all the same. Warm enough?” He toiled with my shirt.

  “Y…yesss,” I inhaled quick and pinched my nose. For heaven sake, what was wrong with me? I was practically hyperventilating! Will pushed hair from my eyes and circled it behind my ear. My brain was working overtime not to have any impure thoughts about him, but I couldn’t help it, he smelled so good and my whole body was firing!

  “Ahhh!” I shrieked and covered my ears from my own thoughts, burying my face away from him.

  “It’s okay Lina," Will murmured softly.

  “No it’s not, it’s horrible! Don’t look at me!” I knew his face was inches from my own. I could feel his breath, rich and sweet on my already flushed skin. He raised his hand to my cheek, grazing his warm fingers in one long motion along the edge of my jaw. Every inch of my body was ablaze, every hair stood on end like live wires. I parted my lips as I turned to him, seeing
every angle of his face, from the set of his dark brows, down the slope of his nose and right to the small mark above his lip that was an unmistakable scar. As I marveled at him he did the same of me, locking his hand in my hair and staring practically inside me. He brought a finger to his lips in contemplation.

  “I have a boyfriend!” I hurled at him. Will seemed confused and sat quiet a second. “I mean...I, I broke up with someone, a few days ago.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Are you?”

  Will arched a brow. “Of course, if it hurt you to do so.”

  “It did,” I agreed. He nodded that he understood. But how could he? Even I didn’t and it was my relationship, my mistake, my mess. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “What, specifically?”

  “This,” I gestured, “you, and me.”

  “It feels good.”

  My shoulders fell. “Not every impulse must be acted upon.” I meant desire. He knew this.

  “Are you free?” he asked.

  “To do what?” As soon as I responded I wished I hadn’t because he was smirking.

  “I meant, you’re single.”

  That wasn’t at all what he meant, not really. “Technically.”

  “Alright,” he said, shrugging and letting go of my hand. Will sat back, this time several inches away. “We’ll be friends then.”

  “Friends,” I announced. The declaration provoked a tug at his lips. “I wish I could read your mind.”

  “I’m equally as surprised by you, as you are of me,” he admitted humbly.

  “Oh,” I said, gulping. Will leaned in again and this time he tickled my face. Why was I allowing him to touch me this way? I didn’t know him. I would never have let a boy back home get this close to me after only a day. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “Should I stop?” he asked.

  Yes, you should mongrel. You’re getting her all dirty, Khala was awake. She hissed from her spot on the floor. I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat. I wanted to strangle her but before I could venture over I realized I felt a bit dizzy, disorientated. It was a pulling towards him I felt, like magnets, but while I felt the positive attraction there was also a lingering sensation of a negative response as well. I didn’t understand it.

  “Why do I feel like this?” I asked him. He didn’t answer at first—he only stared at the girls, watching as their feline lungs filled with sleepy air and then exhaled slowly. What was he waiting for? I knew he had words on the tip of his tongue. His hand overlapped my own and his expression was already apologetic. “Can’t tell me anything, can you?”

  “I’m not allowed to, no.”

  “How are you at charades?” This got a good chuckle. “At least tell me what you are then—I know you’re not human and you’re nothing at all like Isis, so, what sort of beasty are you?”

  “Nice.”

  “I try.”

  “Lina,” he murmured. I could listen to him say my name, forever. But he wouldn’t answer my question. I frowned.

  “Tell me.” He straightened his shoulders and let go of my hands. I didn’t like that, at all. He clutched the pendant at his bare chest, a replica of the one from his painting, with the jackal. He faced it toward me, as if he were trying to make me guess. I stared at the pointed ears and black muzzle long and hard, flashing over what I’d seen and heard along the way. Khala and Sitre had fought and Khala had scorned her for loving what she’d called a dog. Sitre had mentioned the Sons of Lycion and I knew they were different. It took only a few seconds after that. “Lycopolis,” I inhaled sharply, realizing I knew the root of the word. Wolf.

  “Does it frighten you?” he inquired, surmising that I’d figured it out. I didn’t answer that.

  “I saw your brother devouring something hideous in the parlor this morning. Was it a human?”

  “NO! Of course not,” he freaked, looking completely shocked and disgusted. I sighed in relief.

  “Well, what do,” I had to swallow over the word before saying it, “werewolves eat?”

  “First, we are not werewolves.”

  “You’re not?”

  “We are, in my mother’s tongue, Volk Bogovi, or Wolf Gods. Our maker is Wepwawet, the male deity of war. My forefather was cursed by him, to spend his days on earth as, beast.”

  “Agmenon, right?”

  “Yes,” he replied, knowing that Isis and Anchille had shared minimally.

  “Khala calls you dogs, hell hounds.” Worse than that even, I thought.

  “She’s never hidden her distaste for Wepwawet’s sons, no.”

  “I can see that; my question is why? Sitre said it wasn’t your kind that killed Khala and

  Isha’s original family, is that true?”

  “It is, but trying to get her to see that over the years has been impossible. It was a misunderstanding.”

  “Why would anyone kill their family anyway?”

  “To instigate war. Our duty was to protect the great kingdoms from domination. With that task comes a certain amount of bloodshed. My home saw quite its fair share.”

  “Your home?”

  He groaned. “After acquisition the name changed. You would know it as Asyut today, but it has been called other names. Apparently, finding the corpses of my wolf brothers led the Romans to superstitiously call the area Lycopolis. Fitting, I suppose,” he rumbled dryly. I couldn’t help but laugh which did manage to raise his dulled spirits. “It still exists, to the trained eye.”

  “Oh neat, so it’s invisible?” I snickered more. He glared at me and I quickly composed myself.

  “Look at the floor,” he pointed to the four enormous Mau’s. “Do you still think it’s all impossible?” I glanced down at Isha and smiled as she purred.

  “No, you’re right,” I agreed. “I’m sorry, go on.”

  “As with the lands changing of power, so did the names of the gods. Isis was Eset, Ahmose etc. Wepwawet became Anpu, Anubis, and so on and so forth.”

  “It’s confusing.”

  “Not really. Each god retains his soul identity. Your name is only part of your physical calling in a specific realm, Lina,” he paused, reaching for the area over my heart, “the one inside you has a name that is irreplaceable, no matter what others strive to call you.” I leaned back against the cushion, trying to take it all in. “The wolves of Asyut have an extensive history of protecting the land of the pharaohs. They were nobles, which is why so many that died are buried in the temples. They too, were regarded highly, like the cat guardians.”

  “I see.”

  “Too much?”

  “No!” I startled, after feeling him pull away. “I mean,” I reached for his retracting arm, “I mean I can handle it. Tell me more Will. I want to know everything.”

  14. Intrigue

  I watched him closely as he talked about his brothers, and their life here. I admit it was like watching television with the sound off, only the show was so intriguing, so beautiful, audible words were unnecessary. He was quite the specimen. I found it hard to pay attention and was distracted by the flecks of yellow in his eyes and the way his full lips every so often revealed his teeth. He tried to hide them from me, saying it wasn’t a regular occurrence, that his fangs be out, unless he was hungry. Will placed a finger to his mouth, like he was fighting taking a nip.

  I exhaled slowly, taking in his brood and the way the light of the fire hit his skin just right. Lord, was he still talking?

  “I told Thomas to be on his best behavior around you,” he was saying.

  “Huh?”

  “My brother,” he repeated. “I informed him if he treated you poorly I would kick his ass.”

  “Oh, good, that’s good,” I mumbled, forcing myself to look away.

  “Don’t move,” he told me. Was that an order? I couldn’t tell. My ears were broken. I obeyed anyway. He relaxed his body and as he did his face softened too. Will took my left hand in his. He placed it over his cheek. I’d hoped it would fe
el softer than it looked but it didn’t. His face felt as chiseled as a statue. My heart pounded in my ears. Even though I talked a big game—accepting the truth of him and of his past, was something indescribable. Touching him however, made the entire situation that much more real. He was a god, through and through, and I couldn’t deny the magnitude of the power coursing inside him. It scared the shit out of me. He scared me.

  “It’s you isn’t it?” I asked, pointing to the painting over the fireplace and trying to disengage from his hold.

  “It is,” he said in a calm tone.

  It took me a moment to register that, even though I’d looked at it briefly. It was Will, but it was a Will from many, many years prior. His face was similar yet hardened in a way, as if he had some terrible burden to bare; the weight of many lives resting on his shoulders. When I looked back he was buried in his hands. I reached for him and pressed my fingers over his palm. Will brought them to his mouth and kissed them. Soon that electric current passing between us was connected again, pulsing. Images flashed before my open eyes, ones I’d never seen but somehow understood. There was an army, their bodies expertly shielded in black armor, their weapons ready. The sun was high and hot. As they began to advance forward onto their opponents the setting changed. I felt as though I were standing at the entrance of royal courtyard, only this one was made of sand and stone and beyond the tall pillars sat a mighty king. At his sides were two sons, their faces heavenly just like their dark skinned father. They were cloaked in armor as well. I waited for the third to appear, knowing that this great man had three sons, but he never came.

  “I see your home,” I told Will dazedly.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  “I see your father, and Thomas, and Charles, but…not you.”

  “Visions are a glimpse Lina. We don’t always understand them.” My eyes popped open and I stared at him. That was the beginning of Will’s withholding information. I wondered how long it would last and who it was he was trying to protect.

  “I guess,” I muttered.

  A hint of a memory lingered in the back of my mind—I just couldn’t grab a hold of it long enough to receive any concrete information. I pulled his hand back, hoping that if I touched him more visions would follow and I might be able to piece things together. I could sense; however, from his rigid body that he was beginning to shut me out. It was like he’d only go so far and then an invisible wall would appear. They all had their secrets.

  “Tell me what you aren’t saying.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?” I protested. “What happened in the past that’s made everything strained now?”

  “Too many wounds to count.”

  “Why do you stay then, if you’re, hated?”

  “I wouldn’t call it hate. It’s more, an uncomfortable circumstance we are all forced into. I belong here.”

  “Will?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are we going to be friends or not?”

  He stared at me. “I want to be your friend.” It sounded like half a kiss off already, which made my insides implode from the worst disappointment I’ve ever felt. I tried not to let it show, though I was positive my face had shriveled worse than a prune. He blew the most adorable raspberry. “Short version?” he tested, squinting an eye.

  “Deal,” I jumped.

  “My father came to Isis’ aid, when she was Ahmose—”

  “In Achaia, yes I got that part.”

  “We helped her defeat her enemies but the strain of certain, forbidden relationships, only served to drive a wedge farther between us. The Dam Ilah shunned many of Lycion’s sons after that, despite their service and sacrifice. Those that had illegally taken wives of the other families were punished, severely.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Disclaimed, stripped of their titles and estates. And some were…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Put to death,” he rattled quickly, looking sick in the face.

  “All of them, even the women?” I asked. He nodded. “Barbaric!”

  “It was.”

  “Why? Why couldn’t they be together?”

  “It started a long time ago Lina. It’s always been this way.”

  “Khala said that any child Sitre and Lydas would have tried to have, would have been an abomination, that it would have been killed.”

  “Yes,” he said softly.

  “That’s why there isn’t more of your kind here now. You’re not allowed to be with them!” I staggered a bit. “What do they fear an uprising?”

  Will reflected on that. “Not all alliances end in friendship Lina. War is war, and when it’s over many go back with their kind,” Will removed his hand and sat forward. “Charles and Thomas and I don’t feel the same as others in our family. We broke away from them many moons ago. It is a small society of wolves that feel the vampires and the daughters of Bast-et are our true blood kin, and that with time, our wounds can heal.”

  “Supernatural is supernatural, why should it matter what sort you are?” I argued. “It’s like…like—.”

  “Absurd old world tradition that serves absolutely no purpose except to destroy the spirit of youth?” he proposed.

  “Sorta,” I rolled my eyes. “I was gonna say racism, but yeah, that works.”

  “I agree. We are all born of the same magic; both survive under the same laws, both immortal born of immortal blood. We are the pure ones.”

  “Exactly, wait, does that mean there are ones that aren’t of your bloodline, that aren’t pure?”

  “Humans that are made supernatural beings after being chosen or often times they—” he halted.

  “What?!”

  “Mistakes.”

  “Euw, that’s horrible!”

  “It happens, unfortunately.”

  Will leaned his head back. His hair fell around his face. I made the brave attempt to reach up and touch him again, though I was still terrified he might snap at me. But when my fingers made contact with his skin I found that he hardly flinched and I was soon comforted. It made me smile to see his lips turn up in pleasure at my touch. A ripple of sound emanated from his chest.

  “That feels good,” he said with his eyes closed. My hand quivered.

  “Where did you get this scar,” I asked, drawing his attention to the thin band over his lip. It was barely visible in the half light.

  “It’s nothing,” he murmured as he yanked my hand forcefully to his face once more. He greedily made my fingers tickle again.

  “Is it a battle wound?” I half mocked.

  “No,” Will confessed. He sat erect and brushed my hand away delicately. His eyes flitted to Khala.

  “A misunderstanding?”

  “I regret the state of mine and Khala’s relationship. I wish to be her friend but her animosity runs deep.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “You’ve no need,” he said breathlessly, now turning his body back to face me. I was hit with his scent full force and it made my jaw tingle again.

  “Um…” I closed my mouth and shut my eyes as I tried to stifle the urges I was feeling. I didn’t know where they were coming from, and still didn’t know how to make them stop. I could feel his gaze on my face. Will’s lips were inches from my nose, and he inhaled once. Then, without warning he was at the opposite end of the couch, his fists clenched together as though he were about to hit something, or someone.

  “Huh,” I murmured and then my head spun. “Ah, my throat is burning!” I cried as I held my hands to my neck. It felt like the fires of hell were welling in my chest. It was the most insufferable pain and I wanted to scream.

  “I shouldn’t have been so reckless,” Will cursed under his breath.

  “Why, what do you mean!?” I gasped, still clamoring at my throat. The pupils of his eyes were dilated and the ring of his iris was bright yellow. He tried to cover them, to keep me from seeing the change but I wasn’t frightened of that. I was afraid of the feeling
inside me. There was a part of me that was beginning to crave him so desperately yet another part that felt agitated by his presence—all that, and I was terrified to leave him. He watched me and I knew he was reading my thoughts. Will took one step toward me but stopped himself.

  “Lina, your being here makes me, tense,” he replied, and immediately I felt wounded. If I weren’t in excruciating pain in that moment I would have cried.

  “Don’t misunderstand,” he pleaded.

  “I could go if you want?” I managed to garble out the words through the flames. I prayed he would stop me. Will grabbed water from the kitchen.

  “Did I say I wanted you to leave?” he asked. “Here, this won’t help much.” I took it fast and downed almost the whole thing before responding.

  “If you’re bothered by me,” I suggested, jiggling the glass at him that it hadn’t been sufficient.

  “I don’t ever want you to go,” he whispered and my chest heaved up and down as I continued burying the magma pool with cold water.

  “I have reflux, which, gaw, it isn’t sexy, at all, jeezus!” I grabbed my throat and shot to my feet. “This isn’t working. It’s like pouring gasoline to a fire!” I shoved the glass at him. Without warning Will took it, dropped my hands and grabbed my cheeks, drawing me so close to his mouth that we were almost touching.

  “Oh my god what are you doing, I’m going to be sick!” I tried pushing him away but he wouldn’t budge.

  “Lina, trust me,” he said, taking down my arms. “Trust me?”

  I stared at him, feeling like the burn would come straight through my eyes. I nodded yes and then his touch made me go limp. “Breathe me in Lina.”

  “No, no I can’t. It’s killing me!”

  “Trust me, inhale as hard as you can. It will quell the burn, I promise.”

  I listened and sucked in every bit of his sweet earthy breath inside me, inside my lungs. It reached all the way to the pit of my stomach before whirling to my head in aftershock. What I thought would end in my vomiting in his face, actually left me melted into Will’s arms. Way better than a little blue pill, and infinitely more powerful. He lifted my legs from the floor, swinging them over his lap. Slowly but surely, as promised, the terrible burning lessened to soft smoky embers before finally going out. My chest was cold as ice.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Where were you six years ago?” I nestled in more, taking the relief greedily. “Why did that work?”

  He cleared his throat. “Truth?”

  “Always.”

  “It will sound, strange.”

  “You’re a werewolf Will. Doesn’t get stranger than that.”

  “You and I are meant to be together.”

  I lifted up enough that our eyes locked. “Cheese much?”

  “You wanted the truth. I was only honoring your request,” he said so honestly that I couldn’t poke further fun.

  “That line only works for you, you know,” I replied sarcastically. Had anyone else said that to me after only a day I’d have punched them where they stood. “It’s why I feel this way, why I suddenly don’t want us to be apart?”

  “It is.”

  “Isis said I had to stay away,” I informed him. Will glowered at that as I entwined our hands. “I believe you,” I told him.

  “Good.”

  “I don’t know if it’s good or not, but I’ll stay,” I vowed, “as long as you want me to.” His lip twitched a smile and he relaxed further into the seat, securing his arm around me tighter. It felt nice until my forehead started to sweat. I reached my sleeve up to wipe it and suddenly I had the urge to be naked and out in the night air.

  “I’ll move,” he offered. I forced him back.

  “Just open a window.” He stood to open the back patio door. Cool evening air flowed inside the modest cabin and it felt amazing. I still desired to undress but it wasn’t due to the temperature of the room.

  “Must be quite a change from the mansion,” he commented with a smile, carefully avoiding my thoughts.

  “To tell you the truth neither is ideal for me,” I complained. I really didn’t feel comfortable, anywhere—the mansion felt like an ice box compared to Will’s more tropical accommodations. I shrugged out of my top, so appreciative for the white camisole beneath it. Will rubbed his forehead.

  “What?”

  “Neither temperature suits you.” Will looked at me from under his long lashes with a smirk tucked in one cheek.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s ironic, that’s all.”

  I didn’t get what he meant but nonetheless, “I’m here to amuse.” I invited him back to the couch. He obeyed happily. “Tell me more about your family.”

  “Siyn na Cakal, which loosely means Son of the Jackal. Our ancestors recorded their history in the Book of Agmenon.” Will squeezed my hand before hopping up and going to the back bookcase. He returned toting a large relic, similarly shaped and styled like Isis and Anchille’s. “Lina?”

  “Hm.”

  “Do you know why you’re here?”

  “Sure. I’m the child of Hekate and Agmenon, I’m the ‘chosen one,’” I threw in quotes and an eye roll.

  He reflected a moment. “I was told of you.”

  “I figured.” I didn’t think it was that bizarre anymore. I was positive they all knew about me, right down to all the gritty details—the ones I was so desperate to learn. “What, did you all have a debriefing before I came here?”

  “That’s not how it happened, not for me anyway.”

  “How then?”

  “You mean when.”

  “Okay, when did you find out about me?”

  “3000 B.C.,” he said, without flinching.

  I gasped. “That would make you—”

  “Really old,” he finished.

  I counted quickly. I figured maybe a hundred, five at most, but he was actually closer in age to Isis and Anchille. I slid away, but kept my eyes glued to his. The expression he wore was one of empathy. “I won’t become desensitized by this, will I?”

  “You may, one day.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “How do you feel about me now?” He looked worried.

  I swallowed before answering. “I don’t know,” I told him honestly. “I don’t know how to feel about any of this. Ancient prophecies, family secrets, imaginary creatures from some damn fairytale nightmare, and now you tell me, we were meant to be together?”

  “Are meant to be together,” he corrected.

  “I feel, ambivalent.”

  He reflected. “That’s, reasonable.”

  “It isn’t actually, but caring and not caring all at the same time, kinda my M.O.”

  He laughed. “I’ve been there many times, not about war or my duty, but, with other things.”

  “It’s always been easier for me, not to care.”

  “I’m sure it was.”

  I wanted to tell him I hadn’t changed, that I was still prone to chucking new shiny things away before they could disappoint me. “Do you feel that old?”

  “No, I don’t. I feel like a man in his twenties, most days.”

  “Is that when it happened?”

  “For us it was already inside, Agmenon’s curse,” he explained. “The catalyst was war, but even without that we would have all turned.”

  “And that was that?”

  “I haven’t aged since,” he shrugged.

  “I can’t even imagine it, never dying.”

  Will’s posture stiffened. “With someone to share eternity, the endless days and nights become bliss.”

  My skin prickled for the millionth time and I realized it would be a common side effect of my being around Will. It made me happy and sad all at the same time. “Who told you, about me?”

  “Elders in our court read the stories of Hekate and Agmenon, their rise to power, their budding relationship, their triumphs, and, their downfall,” he pointed. Will leaned forward, opened to a specific page, and pulled it clos
er to me. “And the answer to our damnation, a child that would die and then be reborn.”

  “I must seem like a freak to you,” I complained. Will gawked at me in surprise.

  “You, a freak to me?” he rebuked.

  My shoulders slumped.

  “You are like a baby to me, but only because you are innocent, untouched by war. Your human heart beats, a rhythm I only knew as a child—it’s, beautiful to me.”

  I smiled really big.

  “Was that a terrible description?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

  “No,” I exhaled, “that was the most wonderful thing anyone’s ever told me—except, ‘your father’s alive.”” I was so excited to see him.

  “I imagine that was incredible to hear and I am happy for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “When I look at you I see my own reflection, as a boy, back home in Emathia. I’m seeing my own soul inside you Lina and I don’t know how else to explain it, but that’s what this is for me. I lived three thousand years waiting for you, feeling like half of me was missing.” He tilted his chin into my hand and nuzzled it gently. After a moment he slid the book onto my lap. He watched while I turned several pages slowly, observing each one, and taking care to remember anything that I deemed important somehow. There were letters, dates and pictures of them, all of them. The two books were similar, despite being written by different factions—factions that were now mostly divided, except for a scant few believers in peace. I turned another page and was staring at a striking blond woman. She had Will’s Hellenistic nose and defined mouth but the most exotic aqua blue eyes I’d ever seen.

  “Who’s this?” I asked, completely mesmerized.

  “Helsha. My mother.”

  “Will, she’s so pretty. You look like her in the nose and cheekbones but, more like your dad I think, at least your hair and eyes.”

  “She’s Macedonian and our father is Egyptian. He brought her over by ship through the Aegean, but after a while she returned to her people. My mother despised Egypt; she said she was fearful of what was to come,” he remarked. “She couldn’t ignore the voices in the temple, the voices of all who had perished. It sickened her.”

  “She knew?” I asked.

  “She was a, jasnovidec, a seer, or oracle.”

  “That’s how she knew about me?”

  Will’s hands began to shake. “One night, after we’d fought our bloodiest fight and had returned to camp, my mother came to our tent. While the others slept she told me that I would unite with you, that I should protect you. She wouldn’t tell me more and asked that I trust her words.”

  “And of course you did,” I whispered.

  “I loved my mother.”

  “Were you mad at her, for leaving?”

  Will didn’t answer right away. Outside the wind blew violently and the whistle of the trees grew louder as the weather began to change, to become more destructive. I shivered beneath the thin silk of my tank top. Will pulled a cover over my exposed arms. I curled into him. He didn’t seem to mind me making the spot my own and for whatever reason, it didn’t feel wrong.

  “I’ve never questioned her choices,” he finally said.

  “Did you have doubts though, about what she said about me?”

  Will tipped my chin up so he could look at me. “Not from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  “I want to know everything, the way you do.”

  “I want you to know too,” Will smiled as we both held the book.

  Before we could continue a low growling filled the room. Four pairs of dark eyes hovered over us, their long fangs extended, claws flexed for action.

  15. Bound

  Omri swiped the closed Book of Agmenon to the floor. It banged against the cabin wall. Will tried to stand but she knocked him down, her feline face was inches from his, and her teeth were bared. He tried to shield himself but she had him pinned, and then she roared, louder than ten lions.

  “Stop!” I tried shouting over her but it was no use. I tried to shove my hand between them and over Will but Omri growled at me, and Will quickly pushed me aside. It was a hard enough shove that I landed near the fireplace, knocking my head against the stone. The other cats circled as Will bested Omri. He was able to get to his feet but she quickly reared onto her hind legs and pressed her enormous paws to his chest. She shoved him back, roaring even louder than before. The vibrations sent the photos over the mantle crashing down over me. The glass shattered everywhere and a few shards flew at my face.

  “Aw! Ou!” I screamed and grabbed my eyes, scrambling to get rid of them. I heard them continuing to scuffle about the floor and then a loud thud near the front entry.

  “Lina, let me see,” Will ordered, taking my hands away. “Jezus! No, don’t touch it! I’ll get them out, don’t move!”

  “I’m not moving,” I whimpered. I knew from the excruciating burn there was still one stuck in my eye. Tears were streaming down my face.

  “Good, that’s good, it’s coming out. Hold still now,” he said, gently wiping at the corner. “How does that feel?”

  “It hurts!” I shouted, keeping my eyes shut.

  “I know it does, but try to open them.” Slowly but surely I was able to see him, though through the tears he was blurry. “Can you see?”

  “A little, it’s fuzzy.”

  “Blink, and keep doing it, until it feels better.”

  “Is Omri okay?” I asked, knowing he’d thrown her across the room.

  Will looked over his shoulder where Sitre and the other girls hovered around a fuming Omri. “She’s fine.”

  Will she be alright? she asked.

  He didn’t answer her right away. I pressed his fingers and he exhaled. “She will be.”

  Will, our instructions were explicit enough before she arrived—they weren’t to be misunderstood or taken lightly, she sent to him, hissing.

  “I’ve told her nothing Omri, except about my own past. That isn’t a crime.”

  What is occurring here cannot be, or have you forgotten?

  “I remember Omri,” he assured her.

  You are playing with fire Will, and we will not abide. We are taking Lina back.

  “NO!” I yelled at her, getting up. “I’m not going anywhere! And if you’d have left us alone none of this would have happened in the first place!” I screamed at her, pointing to the redness her actions caused.

  I am regretful for hurting you, but, the matter is closed, Omri growled back at me.

  I stood closer to Will. “I’m staying, unless I no longer have free will. Last time I checked, I did.”

  Omri averted her hold and attention on Will and back to me. You don’t know what you’re doing.

  “No I don’t, but that is for me to figure out,” I said defiantly. “Besides, we wouldn’t want the child of the prophecy back on a plane to Chicago, leaving you all to damnation, would we?” Omri gaped at me, and the other girls slowly fell back, all but Khala.

  You’re bluffing!

  I glared at her. “Am I? I would be well within my right to leave.”

  Go then, we don’t need you! She snarled.

  Khala be quiet! Omri ordered her, as she moved back a few steps. There is no need for idle threats. Do what you will child. We will protect you as we are sworn to, she told me. To Will she said, You will have Isis to answer to. Mark my words, it will not end well if you proceed.

  He stared at her. “Nothing I’ve done has ever been without consequence Omri,” he stated, glancing quick to Khala. “Even if my hands aren’t to blame...I take full responsibility.”

  Omri stood back on all fours but stayed glued to Will, her fierce violet eyes buzzing. I didn’t like the way his warm body was suddenly becoming colder too, a bit hostile. The last thing I wanted to witness was an all-out brawl, between a lone wolf and four ferocious cats. All this for my own protection—seriously, knowing my past ahead of schedule, wasn’t worth the hassle.

  “Omri?” I moved to stand between them.
“I’m sorry.” The low rumbling inside her made me nervous but I knew she wouldn’t hurt me. “I won’t ask any more questions. I’ll wait for Isis and Anchille, okay?”

  Will disclosing information that he shouldn’t is not the only issue here Lina, she told me. I backed up and reached for Will’s pinkie and it was ready and waiting for mine. I kept my eyes on my guardians. Sitre and Isha stood watch, having fallen behind the other two, while Omri and Khala observed our entwined fingers. Khala looked a little disgusted actually. It made me jut out my chin in defiance of her prejudice.

  You’re being very stupid, she said.

  “I don’t care,” I protested, gripping Will even tighter.

  You should. Isis will tear away that pretty face of his and you’ll be left gazing at a true monster!

  “She wouldn’t do that,” I said, my tone shaky.

  Ha! You don’t know our matriarch. She is capable, and wouldn’t need to blot an eye for him.

  “I’m where I’m supposed to be,” I said to all four of them, ignoring Khala’s warning.

  You’re right, you are where you’re supposed to be, only not with Will, Omri sent.

  “Who says? Who gets to decide who I’ll be friends with?”

  Lina, Isha whined.

  Tragic, Khala muttered.

  “Shut up!” I snapped back.

  She shook her head and tossed her shoulders, in order to sit on her hind legs. When her large feline face was an inch from mine she said, Each shall seek his own kind, and those that disobey, will fall. I felt as Will hardened at her predictive words—he didn’t buy into the madness any more than I did.

  It’s inevitable Lina, you may as well not fight it, Sitre answered regrettably. The timbre of her ancient voice was hard to ignore. She came forward then, stood on her hind legs and pressed her thick paws to Will’s chest. He didn’t move to strike her the way it appeared he would with Khala or Omri.

  “But I thought you said…” I started but she cut me off.

  Forget what I said. I was wrong, Sitre answered quick. Then she glared at Will. Leave her be, for her sake as well as your own, she begged him.

  “What was all that crap earlier about grabbing a hold and not letting go!” I cried to her. “This is what you meant, wasn’t it?!” Sitre didn’t answer this time.

  Will pondered a moment but then his grip on me grew tighter still. “I’ll do whatever Lina asks, but only what she asks and no one else.”

  Freaking dogs! Khala sniped. Loyal to a fault, even if it means their heads!

  Shut up Khala! Isha finally roared at her sister. It was about time.

  “Omri, I know you know the stories. I also am aware of your abilities and so you can understand my position.”

  I understand it well, Will, Omri responded more patiently. Khala shifted irritably at her side, having backed away from us a bit as if the situation were too loathsome to her.

  Isis will have all our skins for this! she complained. Omri, we should just go back right now, before he allows this to get any worse than it already is!

  “Nothing’s happened that can’t be undone,” he told her. I let go of his hand abruptly and with a profound pain in my chest. Suddenly he wouldn’t even look at me; he only stepped to the girls, extending both hands in peace. “You can take her now. I won’t stand in your way.”

  “NO!” I shouted at him, but he didn’t turn around. The girls remained silent and I knew they were conversing privately together, deliberately keeping us or maybe just me, on the outside.

  “Don’t do that! Don’t talk like I’m not here dammit!”

  My guardians finally relaxed. Before I could blink Isha and Sitre took up their posts on the fur near the fireplace, while Omri lay a few feet from our table and Khala stalked back to her place at the door.

  “What happened? What did you say?” I asked, pulling at his arm.

  “They’ve decided that I’ll no longer be a threat to you, at least not tonight,” he informed me with a slow smile. Omri peered up almost remorsefully, then lay her head back down.

  “What am I missing?” I asked Will. His eyes grew pale. “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing Lina. You’re here now, and you don’t have to go.”

  Why couldn’t I be a mind reader? All the extra perception was doing nothing for me with Will. We watched the girls for a minute, and soon their breathing grew deeper, more sedate. I took Will’s hand in mine and instantly felt a reserve. I dropped his fingers cold, staring at him, in him even. I understood fine then. He agreed not to speak to me after tonight. He breathed and ran his hands along his jeans.

  “It’s the only way I get to keep you.”

  “For a night?”

  “One night is better than a thousand empty ones, believe me,” he said. Will brushed along my cheek.

  “It shouldn’t be like this.”

  “Agreed, but nothing can be decided, at least not this night. Fresh air?” he asked, content to disregard that the sun would be up in just six hours. Six hours? Why did that length of time feel like seconds? And why did, the moment we held hands in defiance against opposition, my heart remember my love for Jamie? I was confused, torn, between a love that was once a constant, and one that was so new, it wasn’t rational to fight for it.

  Will was waiting.

  “Okay, let’s go outside.”

  Mist from the rain lightly sprinkled the porch and steps and Will pulled two stools close to the wall for us to sit down. I inhaled long and relaxed my shoulders. I could see the crests of the mountain tops illuminated in the moonlight. I leaned against the wall and momentarily closed my eyes. Even though my chest was throbbing and I felt a certain devastation creeping up inside me, I would stay present—I would spend our one night, together. I stole one glance at Will as he rocked his chair back, giving me a breath-taking smile. I closed my eyes and allowed him to watch me privately for a few minutes.

  “It’d be a shame to lose your face,” I remarked. The moment needed a joke, even a bad one. I looked at Will thoughtfully.

  “Death definitely wasn’t the worst of the punishment. It’s what happened before that. Indefinite separation might actually be tolerable, simply knowing your mate was out there but un-harmed.”

  “Is that what you would propose for us?” I asked. “I mean, if we were, together.”

  “I couldn’t leave you, even if I tried.”

  “Two mutilated faces then, eh?” I could hardly swallow. The real thought made me sick.

  “When it was discovered that a wolf had mated with one of the guardians, it destroyed them; their love shattered the faith of two families. They were forced to watch one another endure tortures of such cruelty,” said Will, looking off in the distance. “Their organs,” he continued, “were removed and eaten. Sek-met and Serqet stood by, watching.”

  “Horrid! I can’t even imagine!” I groaned, kicking up from the chair. “Were there others who witnessed?”

  “Oh yes, many...other gods, the people at court. It was a demonstration. It only happened once or twice, but the imagery, the smell, it truly stuck.”

  “Like burning witches.”

  “Maybe that’s where the practice came from.”

  “What else happened?” If there could be more than this!

  “The accused were be-headed. They were then placed in sealed sarcophagi, unwrapped so that their bodies would decompose,” Will cringed and clasped his hands together tightly. His memory was fresh, the inflicted wounds of those close to him, those he knew, were graphic, and intolerable.

  “I know unimaginable brutalities happened to entire cultures of people in the past, but hearing someone’s true account...”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t be sharing this with you.”

  “No, I asked. But, why not separate them, why torture them?”

  “Like you said, with the proposed heretics. They were made example.”

  “Of?”

  “That we’d no control over our lives, what
soever. They would never make it to Duat, and that was the deepest wound of all, to lose your faith and your love in the flesh, and to forever mourn them in the abyss for eternity.”

  “Where did they go, instead?”

  “No one really knows for sure, but some speculate about a mythical place somewhere in the Nether regions, where their souls linger in torment.”

  “Hell?”

  “Worse.”

  “Oh,” I held my hand to my lips in horror. I glanced to the sky, too revolted to look him in the eye anymore. Poor Sitre, I thought to myself.

  “She was lucky. They both were. Isis saved Sitre from enduring the last death and Lydas was given leniency. If not for the position they both held, it could have been much worse. Many suffered before them.”

  “She misses him so much.”

  “Sitre’s sadness never leaves, never subsides, it only grows each day of her immortality. She feels it more when she looks at me or my brothers and for that I am filled with regret. Lydas was my cousin and he was a great friend. I pray that he is at peace.”

  “Why are you really here?”

  “My brothers and I protect Isis and Anchille and we watch over their sons.”

  “Why do you have to, aren’t they powerful enough to do that job on their own?”

  “Everyone has enemies Lina.”

  “I thought your kind were their enemies.”

  “Some maybe, but no one in my family. We’ve heard whispers of a growing threat, and as of late have felt some presence lingering.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I wish I knew. Perhaps it’s other Blood Gods that fear what Isis and Anchille have brought into their world, or it could be someone or something else entirely.”

  “Ash and Khan are babies!”

  “Immortal children Lina, toddlers, who one month before you arrived, were delivered from the womb of a dead woman. Now they are three and quickly approaching full maturity. It’s unprecedented and most know that she conceived them through magic. What sort of magic is what is at issue. It isn’t their silence or ambiguity the elders fear, so much as it is their future. The Dam Ilah have lived by a certain set of commandments, and the birth of these two children signifies to them, end of times.”

  “They fear what they don’t understand,” I said.

  “What they don’t understand they kill,” he added.

  “Clearly, from their murderous track record.”

  “Hmm,” he grunted.

  “Comforting.”

  “It’s why we’re here, to protect you, from brain-washed Blood Gods, rogue vampires

  looking for an easy kill, and even those nameless threats.”

  “There aren’t many of you here Will,” I reminded him.

  “There’s more of us than you think,” he assured me.

  “Well let’s hope so,” I muttered. “Don’t need an immortal lynch mob coming here!”

  “To them, extermination of a threat seems absolutely reasonable, but Isis has met with council since their birth, and no one has given her any indication of an uprising. For the time being I think we’re safe.”

  “You think we’re safe,” I repeated drolly. He just laughed and tipped his chair to look at the rain. “Will?”

  “Council has always felt that Isis’ power is too great.”

  “And what, they want to take it away from her?”

  “Or harness it, anyway they can.”

  “Seriously, a coup?”

  “It’s only hearsay, but it makes our continued presence, absolute.”

  “And the animal I saw, is it one of you or something else, something…bad?” Bad? How did I know who was bad and who wasn’t for Pete sake? What I didn’t know about these creatures could fill the Grand Canyon.

  “I don’t know for certain Lina. We chased it away and haven’t smelled it since. It was familiar to us but also not. For now we’re keeping a close watch.”

  “And Ash and Khan?”

  “I don’t know,” he said reluctantly, rubbing his head. “Ahkmenotep is here to test them daily and the elders hope that yields some answers, but for now we can only speculate.”

  “Well what does the council think they will do, grow to be some mutated monsters?” I shook my head. “It’s not like they’re the next generation of extremists looking for payback for the past.”

  Will rose a brow. “But, the elders don’t know that. Maybe Isis and Anchille orchestrated the whole scenario, for that exact purpose?”

  “That’s stupid,” I said. “Isis may have personal demons with what she is, but she loves her life, and her family, that is more than obvious.”

  “Exactly, and she will do anything, anything to protect them.”

  “She must have wanted them pretty badly to go to such lengths to bring them into this world. I highly doubt she’d do that, only to gamble with their lives later.”

  “I would say so,” Will agreed.

  “No one knows for sure how she did it?”

  “And we may never know. Isis is one of the most powerful beings the world has ever known and her choice to fashion life, through whatever means, has been perceived as incredibly careless and without regard to the coven or their well-being. They feel it’s put all of us in such an unstable position. If the children were ever seen, or if their identity revealed, it would be catastrophic to the covens.”

  “Well they’re keeping them way out here, away from humans.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed.

  “What?”

  “Isis doesn’t really follow Anchille’s orders to keep them hidden. You’ll find this out yourself.”

  “She must know what she’s doing.”

  “Let’s hope so,” he said.

  “How many true vampires are there and how many are made in the world?”

  “There are none like Ash and Khan. Isis has never divulged her secret, and she’s never offered it to another female Dam Ilah.”

  “What about a human, with one of them?” I asked, blushing.

  “Oh, I don’t, I’d never thought of it actually.”

  “Really? In all this time, you’ve never seen it happen.”

  Will rubbed his chin. “Most Dam Ilah would be too overcome, to, even give pause for that to happen.” He was struggling.

  “Why?”

  “Hunger takes precedence, over procreation.”

  “That doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.”

  “I guess.”

  “What about bitten and then changed and all that.”

  “I see. No, it doesn’t work like that,” he grinned.

  “How then, how does it work?”

  Will pondered that a moment before answering as if he were being cautious of how to respond. Then he lifted his left arm and turned it over to the soft flesh of his elbow. Silvery lines blemished his smooth skin in the shape of bite marks. I winced.

  “If I’d been human this would have been fatal. A human is bitten and delivered first a sedative found within the Dam Ilah’s saliva. This silver stream moves rapidly through the body, relaxing the central nervous system, rendering the human immobile. Humans essentially remain catatonic for the duration. Afterward the Dam Ilah drink, before the blood finishes coagulating and collecting in the heart. It’s a fairly quick process.”

  “But won’t they die?”

  “Not before the pooling of poison finally kills them.”

  “Sick!”

  “Long ago the Dam Ilah mastered the art of keeping a human alive, and in the process were able to make endless followers, if they chose.”

  “And with you?” I gagged a little at his scars.

  “I am immortal so it didn’t affect me the same. It was uncomfortable and for a few seconds I was immobilized but was able to quickly regain my strength to take that one down. I’ll always have the scars although they fade greatly over time. The poison stopped here,” he pointed.

  “Does it happen a lot, the making of vampires?”

  “No. That was a very long t
ime ago, and it was mostly out of necessity. The Dam Ilah needed bodies for war, nothing more. Feeding now is simply a part of their earthly make-up, it’s become a conditioned habit for some and for others it’s a thing of the past—they don’t even take part. Rogues that don’t live by council, or at the very least in a specific sett have learned to steer clear of us. They know we will not allow them to hunt humans in our presence and so they stay away.” Will put his arm back down slowly and rubbed the area once like he was remembering.

  “What’s a sett?” I asked.

  “It’s a coven, a family, the place where most vampires stay for comfort and safety. Each one is divided by name and led by a specific elder who presides over that region. You may, from time to time, here wolves refer to those safe houses as nests, but Dam Ilah find the term extremely vulgar.”

  “So these rogues, they like what they’ve become?”

  “They must. Killing is their nature; it’s what they live for. They’ve got zero ties to loved ones, and nothing in their psyche to hold them back. They’ve hit the humanity snooze button one to many times.” He smiled.

  “Degenerates,” I muttered harshly.

  “I know.”

  “Isis is the oldest? Does she make all the decisions?”

  “Yes and no. They’ve formed a sort of Board of Trustees. It’s become their way of mutually deciding who would be given eternal life and who would not, amongst other things.”

  “We’re not cattle!” I screeched. I hadn’t realized I was standing over him, my eyes burning into his. “Ugh!” I scowled. He tried to take my hands but I smacked them away. “Forget it, I don’t wanna know anymore. You said you wouldn’t tell me anyway so let’s just stop talking right now!”

  “Lina?”

  “Bep!” I held up my hand. Will leaned back in his chair, and was quiet. For a minute we enjoyed the peaceful night’s silence. He shifted and I knew he couldn’t resist. I groaned, making slow eye contact.

  “Celts drank the blood of the dead, Aztecs too, the Incas, the Egyptians, and thousands upon thousands more civilizations utilized organized group killings to appease the gods. Consumption of human and animal blood and flesh alike has been a part of our world since man was put on this earth.”

  “Your point?”

  “We are not man’s twin but there is some similitude.”

  “We’re nothing like that!” I snapped, inadvertently scooting my chair away from him. I sat back down in a huff.

  “I only meant that we have our fair share of good guys and bad guys—that we may live under the pall of immortality, but, we are not all equal. There are those of us that kill for the pleasure it brings, and for those of us that are appalled by such business, we choose the alternative.”

  “Oh,” I said softly.

  “Some of us kill to survive and do so as humanely as possible and others of our kind do it maliciously, with no regard for life of any kind.” Will glanced out over the darkened tree line.

  Beyond lay the majestic fells, pitch black and almost humming in their silence. I felt incredibly small in this new world. I didn’t know how I would handle it. Will rose and crossed to the porch, folding his arms together over the railing. I followed and balanced my forehead against the wood praying for the control not to bang my frontal lobe repeatedly. He tried not to show any sign of amusement.

  “Do the humans who become immortal become gods too?”

  “No and most vampires alive now are not gods either, though they profess to be. Their arrogance is detestable,” Will grunted.

  “That’s funny,” I giggled.

  “What is?”

  “Immortal posers.”

  Will smiled big and white. “Cute.”

  “I try.”

  “You don’t have to try at all,” he said, reaching across the railing to caress my finger. My heart did that stupid pitter-patter thing again and worse than that was, I knew he could hear it, as clearly as he could probably here a train from miles away.

  “Why don’t you tell me about where you’re from? It seems you need a rest from all this,” he suggested. My face contorted. I was hoping he wouldn’t stumble into that question, at least not until I was on my way out and could have more easily diverted from it. Will watched me go through a host of debilitating emotions.

  “I… (whew) I don’t really,” I couldn’t finish.

  “I want to know about you, what you like, what you despise, please don’t say wolves!”

  Now look who’s being cute, I thought.

  “I want to know what you love—you can say anything Lina, whatever comes to mind, just let me hear your voice for a while, please?” Will tipped his head against the porch column and rocked back and forth. He closed his eyes and I knew he was waiting. After a long drawn in breath I started to speak. I didn’t recognize my voice at all.

  16. Forbidden

  Six hours went by in a blink. Will had sat fixed while I rushed through my entire life, from being born and mostly raised in New York, to moving to Chicago freshman year. My teenage tales had to of sounded so arbitrary and a bit infantile, considering who and what he was, but he listened intently nonetheless. It was as if he wanted to hear nothing else in the entire world—he’d kept our hands woven together and if I didn’t know better I’d say a few times he was beginning to daydream, but then he’d stroke my finger or open his eyes to look at me. Birds were chirping in the forest and the smell of dew would soon dissipate like our brief time together. I knew I had to leave him but I wasn’t ready to. I could have gone another forty days just like that, content to sit by his side quietly. Will was like food, or at least a damn good replacement. But I remembered his bargain to Omri and my heart fell to my knees.

  “Will I at least see you again, around the compound?” I asked him. The profound pain in my chest was indescribable and something about the way he looked at me, told me he felt the same way.

  “I’d like to,” he said.

  “Friends, right?”

  “Friends,” he agreed.

  “Well, thank you, for taking care of me…of us last night,” I pointed to the girls, and to my sore eye. I felt a huge ball in my throat and I wanted to cry.

  “It was my pleasure.” He looked down at me with such worry, a soft line formed between his brows. I reached up to touch the spot, knowing his thoughts were exactly with mine. I couldn’t say anything with my guardians nearby. They were stretching and getting up when we walked back inside the cabin.

  God it reeks in here! Khala hacked from the door. She shoved it open, practically cleaning it from its hinges as she made her way into the morning sun. I glanced up at Will and shirked a shoulder.

  “She probably has a hairball.” He covered his mouth and coughed. Khala grumbled from outside. Isha followed but not before glancing back at Will apologetically. He tipped his head to her and then she and Sitre ducked outside as well. Omri hung back as if she were about to supervise our farewell. I wanted to scream. She let out an exasperated sigh and bobbed her head to Will before leaping out too. Finally, we were alone and I felt I would come out of my skin.

  “Will?”

  “Yes Lina?” He closed his eyes softly, bending in to smell my hair and face. The way his warm lips traced patterns over my skin left an exquisite new burn. Even the one in my throat was worth the pain, just to have him near me.

  “Never mind,” I sighed. It was like me to fall for a guy so quickly, and it was shameful considering my heart hadn’t had even a millisecond to heal. Yet…here I was, feeling much like the positive end of a magnet! Will stared at me before moving to the door. He pulled his hair away from his face and around his neck. His bright eyes bore into mine and I about fainted.

  “Say what you’re thinking Lina.”

  “I can’t,” I mouthed into his palm. I could feel his disappointment, and the flex of anxiety in his hold. It wasn’t that he couldn’t hear my thoughts, it was because he wanted me to say my feelings out loud—I couldn’t do that. I didn’t have to know m
y entire past, or his for that matter, to know that he could break me. The point was that I knew I would allow him to.

  “I understand,” was all he said. He seemed nervous like he wasn’t sure what to do next. I took a step forward and wrapped my arms around his waist. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done, but I also couldn’t let go. His soft hair tickled my face and I nuzzled into it, taking in the scent of the woods and the sweetness. I wanted to memorize it in case we never saw one another again. Will rocked me slowly, my cheek was smooth against his chest. His heart pounded inside, like a jackhammer.

  “Rest today,” he prompted, while stroking my face tenderly.

  “Mm hmm.”

  “Lina?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re going to get me into so much trouble.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Shh,” he murmured, “I’ll risk it… for you.”

  He tipped my face to his and then without warning, Will lifted my feet from the floor and pressed his mouth against mine. I felt an inferno begin in the back of my throat. He didn’t stop and I didn’t want him too. We stayed locked together, hands clutching waves of hair, fingers wound around necks. As the flames mounted I felt Will begin to pull away. When I looked at him, his gaze was wide, careful.

  “I have to let you go now.” His sweet breath grazed my forehead before he planted a kiss there. I felt lightheaded all over again. He set me down and ticked my chin, “I’ll see you soon.”

  And the world, had changed.

  I pushed my way into that glorious sun without looking back. The grass was greener and more alive; the air was crisp, clean and potent, and the rush of water nearby sounded even louder than before. I could hear everything, and it felt I was doing so for the first time. This was an unknown and un-seen pleasure that I was sure I’d never witnessed before. The ground seemed to move up to greet my feet, and the wind circled my body gently while it whipped all other life into frenzy. The wood was no longer dark and foreboding as it had been last night, but welcomed me into its’ green sanctuary. The girls and I walked side by side at a steady pace as I began to feel the pressure to return to the mansion. I was eager to see Isis and Anchille, to reassure them that everything was okay—no, that everything was wonderful.

  Lina, you mustn’t!

  It’s already done, Omri, called Sitre from farther ahead.

  “What do you mean?” I asked innocently.

  You know very well, Omri said in a disciplinary tone. I did know what she meant. I knew. I just didn’t care. I wanted him. From this day forward she and her sisters wouldn’t be leaving my side even for a second. I grumbled at that.

  We’ll be hung for her defiance Omri, Khala warned. Her violet orbs pierced me as she passed, whipping my arm with her black tail. I was afraid of her, I could admit that without shame—she was terrifying, but I wouldn’t let her ignorance deter me from being with Will.

  Let’s go, Omri ordered.

  As we rounded the shelter, the girls changed back to their human forms. Each one stepped out of their cottage wearing their maiden garb, their onyx hair hurriedly woven into braids. I tried to be friendly, despite our difference of opinion, but they mostly eyed me with disappointment. We closed in on the mansion and I could see the row of cars at the main gate; their shiny paint glinting in the sun. One’s doors were open—the aero-dynamic angles and elegance of Isis’ black pearl Murciélago, made me realize how similar the two were. Like its owner, the expensive sports car was unattainable. Giovanni was doting over it, salivating actually but I paid his slobbering no attention—I only wondered if his work partner would be coming back today. Twenty minutes and I already wanted to see Will again? I was about to become one of those lame girls Patti and I used to make fun of—the pathetic ones that wrote their boyfriend’s names on their wrists in pen. Get a grip, I told myself, you’re more mature than that, get a grip! I raced up the steps only to run smack into Avati—it was breakfast déjà vu all over again, only this time she stood in the foyer with a perplexed look on her face. My cheeks warmed as I felt she would read everything behind my eyes—not to mention I was wearing one of Will’s sweaters which was four sizes too big. It smelled good and I almost lifted the round collar to my nose but Isha knocked my arm with her elbow. Avati eyed me suspiciously as I passed and I could have sworn she sniffed my hair. It was a little odd, and a lot irritating. As my guardians circled me beneath the chandelier, Avati pushed her way through. She clamped her pale hands over my small shoulders and leaned in till her face was centimeters from mine. Her stark silver lenses penetrated my face and I stiffened at the intrusion. She circled her nose and lips near mine and I realized she was trying to catch a scent there—Will’s scent.

  “What are you doing?” I asked her, trying to push her away.

  “Oh,” she clicked her tongue at me. My eyes dropped to my boots in shame. I was holding my soiled clothing from the night before in my hands. I knew I looked bad—hell, I looked guilty.

  “Che problemi ti causa piccolo. Such trouble you’ll cause.” Vati shook her dark head briskly. I swallowed and then braved a response.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Oh mi! Due anime spostare l’equilibrio della natura.”

  “In English?” I asked, glowering.

  “She said, ‘Two souls shift the balance of nature,”” offered Khala, with a double eye roll.

  “Avati!” Isis bellowed from the cooks’ kitchen. I made a sound like a peep and soon my ears were ringing. The girls stood arm to arm—their hearts racing, like mine. My eyes flashed to Sitre who only stared back at me with some repentance. I wanted to grab a hold of my one ally and never let go. Even Vati’s expression whitened and I clutched at her teal suit.

  “Go to her Lina, go, don’t make her wait,” she pushed me hard.

  I looked back at my companions once and then began making my way down the glass corridor. I didn’t even walk really; it was more like the teetering of a mouse, skimming the rails to keep clear of the house cat. I looked out the tall windows to see the clouds swirl and sway, each formation becoming blacker than the next. The hair on the back of my neck stood erect because I knew it was Isis—she was bringing forth this dark storm. I whimpered as I focused on moving to the kitchen. With one last look at my guardians, I turned, placed a slow hand to the door, inhaled, and pushed. Isis sat at the small white table. She cupped a black coffee mug in her hands. As I drew out a chair adjacent to her and sat, I noticed the image of a cobra was infused on her cup. Even that was disturbing, given the day. Her jet black hair fell in long swirling waves down to her hips and the minimal light from the back door radiated through her silver cashmere sweater. If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d say this were any ordinary meeting, but it wasn’t, and Isis had no intention of making it so. She lowered her head to me, but remained focused on her strong drink.

  “Coffee?” she asked, without a smile. My belly sunk. No pleasantries, none whatsoever. I could just as well be the hostile company takeover she was about to thwart.

  “No thank you.”

  I wanted to go back to the night before. The worst thing in the world to me, besides never seeing Will again, would be to do anything to upset this woman. The weather swirling in her grey eyes scared me to death. She tapped her long fingernails chillingly over the wooden table; her eyes continued to bore into mine and then out to the kitchen’s back door, toward the mountain.

  “You already know what it is I am about to say to you,” she gathered.

  “I suppose,” I mumbled. Isis slid up her sleeves and then moved her lanky legs out from the table and crossed them. They looked thin beneath the cotton cigarette pants. Even the tops of her brown feet were etched with veins and tucked loosely inside a pair of ballet slippers. She reached her hand across the table to mine and I flinched when her fingers met the end of Will’s clothing. I was terrified she’d snatch it right from my back and burn it, in order to remove any trace of him.

  “I would do no
such thing,” she scoffed at my thoughts. “I will; however, release him of his duties here, if that is what is required.”

  “Please don’t do that, it was my fault.”

  “Irrelevant, he knew the rules and he nearly broke them.” I finally met her piercing gaze. I couldn’t allow him to be fired over me. That would be unacceptable.

  “Please Isis, don’t do that,” I begged her. She only pondered my words shrewdly. Her silence was thunderous even against the slow painful thud of my heart. “What are you going to do?” I asked with my head down.

  “Like you child, I find myself in unfamiliar territory. I am your aunt and as such I find it difficult to do anything that could cause you further pain; nevertheless, you both have left me without option.”

  “I’m sorry that he’s in trouble for telling me the truth, and I’m sorry that you don’t agree with our friendship, but I’m not sorry we met,” I told her firmly. “I won’t ever apologize for that.” I sassed the last part.

  “There will come an hour, very soon, when you will feel differently about him.”

  “Different how?” I didn’t know how I felt in the first place.

  “I cannot say, but you must trust.”

  This enraged me. “How can I trust you when you won’t tell me the truth? You all ignored me my entire life! And now, now you want to come in throwing your weight around, forget that! You’re not my aunt, you’re a stranger.”

  “Lina please!” she roared.

  “I won’t feel different,” I protested, my chin raised. She grabbed it fast as lightning, tugging my face to meet her cool glare.

  “You will, and I won’t stand for it. Anchille and I won’t watch you go through the pain of it. You may not know us, and for that I am regretful whether you believe me or not, but these absences you mourn, were beyond any of our control. I may not feel like family to you, but be that as it may, I am responsible for you from here on out. It’s for your own good. Do not push me.”

  “But, I like him.”

  “That is irrelevant,” she griped in annoyance, waving her hand in the air. I bit my lip and could feel the sting of her words in my throat.

  “How could my heart, my feelings, not matter?” My eyes filled with tears. I didn’t know what I was more upset about: Isis’ authority, my father, Jamie and the ceaseless guilt I felt over leaving him, or the fact that I couldn’t keep my new friend.

  “The things in your head,” she hissed to herself. “Lina, those things cannot be! You cannot possibly understand the implications of what the two of you may be entertaining! It is preposterous! You mustn’t and that’s that, don’t be foolish!” I continued shrinking in my seat, like a dog while she raved. “We did not bring you here to be soiled. You have a greater purpose!” Isis shoved out from the table. She took one long stride to the back door that looked out mountain-side. “I’ll not hear any more of this, is that clear?” Her edict could not be refuted, not by me and not by anyone. It was the first time in my life that I felt utterly powerless. Her decree weighed heavily in my legs, crushed my shoulders into adverse submission. “I said, is that clear?” she repeated, turning over her shoulder. I lowered my eyes and bowed to her like one of her servants.

  “Crystal,” I said, releasing my severely bruised ego.

  “Good. Let this be the end of it then,” she exhaled.

  I knew I’d awoken something inside her, and that something was parental frustration. She hadn’t experienced it with her own sons, they were too small. But one day, and sooner than she realized, Ash and Khan would be flexing their strength over her. I’d like to be around long enough to witness it, if only to feel some vindication, but my days at the Bhari mansion were numbered. Of that much, I was certain. I couldn’t stay under the same roof as Isis, not so long as she was set on running my life. I could have that with Costas back in Chicago. At least at home I could take reprieve around the city. In the Cumbrian Mountains, I was lost, too far to reach civilization and had zero safety net. All I did have was a plane ticket, and a chip on my shoulder. Isis seemed to be breaching my private thoughts. I didn’t care that she knew my feelings. I didn’t care about anything anymore. I was numb.

  “I think I’ll go lie down,” I said. My voice was pathetically void of rebellion. Somewhere deep inside I felt an obligation to please her.

  “We’ll send for you when it’s time for dinner.”

  “Great.”

  “Lina?”

  I paused but I didn’t turn around to look at her.

  “It is for the best.”

  I narrowly accepted with a nod.

  “I’ll have Sitre and the ladies come prepare you for tonight.”

  “Fine.” I started to walk but then I stopped and this time I did turn to look at her. “I’m sorry, about Ash and Khan. It’s not right, how the clans feel towards them.”

  “They’ll be fine,” she said strongly. Beneath her cool braise there was a lack of confidence to back her declaration. I shrugged and headed down the hall, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  In my room, I felt the first waves of disenchantment threaten to swallow me whole. My new world was unraveling at its paper thin seams. It was like a dream, a beautiful tragic dream that was quickly dissipating. I was determined to stay, but frightened of the unknown. I was hurt by what Isis had said, and couldn’t help but feel pressured to go against my heart. I sank beneath the bedding, bombarded by my aunt’s cautionary words that still rang in my head. After obsessing over every detail of the last twenty-four hours I’d had enough and grunted, throwing my arms in the air and kicking out my feet. Then I curled into fetal position and closed my eyes.

  Dòmi pitit l, granmè se isit la.

  “Grandma?” I whispered. I could feel her all around me.

  Sleep ma chérie, sleep.

  Bordeaux House, my grandmother’s Louisiana châteaux, loomed regally over the courtyard, but it was in such a sad state. The columns were no longer white but yellow stained and filthy. The wraparound porch had been shattered by a fallen Spanish Moss tree on the right side. The lawn was plagued by weeds, rusted wires encroached the stone walls like an aged prison. Even the roof looked as though it’d been bombed in a raid. Still, it was the prettiest spot in New Orleans. The trees that lined the drive ran directly along the Mississippi and gran had, had the most abundant gardens I’d ever seen. Oddly, the block was deserted and the cemetery was unusually quiet. There was also an opulent row of black orchids making their way up the staircase and in through the front door. That’s how I knew this was a dream. Gran had put those orchids there, to let me know she was with me at the mansion. I made my way inside to the sound of her singing a lullaby. I had goose pimples all over my arms and part of me wanted to run from the place but I didn’t. I couldn’t run from Bordeaux House. I’d spent my childhood here. It was my second home, and my favorite, if anyone asked. From the back kitchen wafted the scent of warm beignets, pecan pie, and nani’s own Louisiana chicory. My mouth watered.

  “Granmè?” I called from the foyer.

  “In the parlor chér,” she called.

  There she sat, plain as day, not a hologram as one might think a dead woman would appear, but whole and alive. She was perched on her claw-foot sofa, beneath her paintings, and surrounded by the regal charm of her home. Her black hair was pulled to the nape of her neck in her signature chignon, and there was the silver comb grandpa had given to her for her birthday. Now I understood why it was so special to her, why she rarely ever took it out of her hair—it had been a gift from Menaan, my real grandfather. Her dress was the same one from her burial, tea rose colored with white lapels and pink buttons. She smiled widely at me and I gave a half wave as she motioned for me to sit. Then she moved to the Steinway in the corner. I looked around at the faded red paint of her walls which were chipping away and then to the antique furniture, covered in cobwebs and soot from the hearth. Only the sun-room leading out to the wraparound porch seemed untouched by time, but that was artifice, a tric
k of the lighting from the roof. She began to play and I sat calm, hands folded patiently in my lap. When she’d finished the piece she turned.

  “Are you real?” I asked her in a serious tone. She laughed.

  “Are you?” she answered sardonically.

  “I’m dreaming. This is a dream gran. We buried you in Lafayette cemetery, years ago.”

  “My my, well then you must be right chile’. I am only in your dream,” she said with a coy turn of her head. Now she was observing the decay that had befallen her decadent home. “My house looks awful,” she said in her deep southern accent. It made me want to cry. “All this dust, all these weeds growing inside here, improper,” she grieved, giving the ivy that was snaking up her walls a shrewd glare.

  “I’m sorry grandma, I’m so sorry,” I whispered as I held my face in my hands. I felt her warm embrace though I hadn’t seen or heard her leave the piano to join me on the couch.

  “Pourquoi petit bébé, why do you need to apologize?” she asked.

  “I’ve never come to visit you,” I admitted shamefully. “Never, not once. I’ve never brought you flowers.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself with this, hear?”

  “But, I’m a terrible grand-daughter!”

  “No, no. It was my time to go and it’s hard for you,” she said.

  I cried into her cool slender neck, praising the angels in Heaven that I was able to feel it and smell it too. Whether it was a dream or not, it was a precious gift I’d been given. “I love you so much.”

  “Et je t’aime,” she cooed as she planted kisses over my head. After a few moments I lifted from her shoulder and wiped my eyes.

  “Why are you coming to see me gran?”

  “You’re my sugar.”

  “Nani?” I queried further but she didn’t answer me. After a bit of silence my grandmother stood and headed for the broom closet. She pulled out an array of cleaning supplies, mops, and wash basins. Then over her shoulder she called for me to help.

  “Ahmolina, this place is unfit, even for the dead! You help me tidy it up a bit,” she demanded in only a way she knew how, with spunk and adoration. I smiled and reached for a broom and dustpan.

  “Grandma, none of this is real,” I mentioned casually, wondering why on earth we were about to clean. The look she gave me let me know that she cared very little about that fact.

  I got to work.

  It felt as if it took us several hours to clean the place up, but it sparkled when we’d finished. Gran was smiling. I put a log into the fireplace and she and I sat down once more, tired and hungry, but most of all appeased. I bit into a sweet beignet, leaving the sugar to rest around the corners of my mouth. Gran gave me praise before she sipped her coffee. I was happy to be in her arms, in her world, but the later it got outside the eerier the old place became. Soon the sounds of other voices at the end of the hall spurred me to lean closer to her for safety. She chuckled as she always did, with teary eyes and her white teeth shining.

  “S’only house-guests, old soldiers I presume. One of them keeps trying to speak to me but I jus’ tole’ him, ‘Go on back where ya belong, Abel. You’re dead darlin’, you are dead!””

  “Why are you here?” I asked her, setting the pastry on a napkin in my lap. She looked deep inside me with her soulful black eyes.

  “I never got taken. God, wan’ me stay here I guess,” she laughed again, a little nervously as she too peered around.

  “What’s the last thing you remember Gran?”

  She had to think about it.

  “I remember my funeral,” she said. “I remember your mama, cryin’ over me. I watched from another tomb as you all left the mausoleum and then…” she stopped.

  “What happened?”

  “Darkness honey, only darkness,” she sighed.

  “But then you found me?”

  “I feel your thoughts sometimes. They draw me out of the darkness and I’m able to come to you. I feel other things too though cher, bad things, many bad things that I get plain ol’ too scared to face em’. And then I end up here again, in my house. This house, I shared this place with your granddaddy for a short time, fore’ he had to leave me…too.”

  “Nani?” I turned to face her. Her whole body began to shake and shiver.

  “Bébé?”

  I swallowed. “I know about Menaan.” She stared at me. “I know a lot,” I began to weep.

  “Oh,” she said abruptly. She didn’t have to answer though. I could read her thoughts as clear as if they were my own. In our dream world nothing was left unsaid.

  “Why didn’t you let him change you?” I asked her through waves of tears.

  “There was no time left for that,” she told me. I wailed into her sleeve—I couldn’t stop. “Ain’t a whole lot to be done about it chile’. Le monde a changé.” Before I realized she was off the sofa and headed for the white staircase that led to the second story. Linora stopped on the landing but didn’t turn around to me. The house shuddered beneath her sadness. “Not even he could bring me back now,” she answered desolately. My grandmother looked back once then, her coal eyes were cold, distant as she ascended the cracked staircase alone. “My love is gone, moved on to the other world without me. Mond mwen se ale.”

  “Gran!” I jumped up to run after her. “Bring you back, what do you mean bring you back?!” I cried out to her, but she vanished.

  I stood at my vanity, awake and sobbing. I doused my cheeks and neck with cool water. The room was spinning or maybe it was my head. My jaw tingled and filled with cool spit that wet my whole tongue.

  And then I got sick.

  17. Dinner Party

  I had no strength left as I meandered slowly to my bed. I pulled back the violet duvet and crawled inside—I didn’t even bother removing my oversized clothing, only my shoes. I curled into Will’s sweatshirt, bringing up the pocket to my nose so that I could smell him again. It gave me peace in the wake of my disturbing dream. To think, it had been as simple as my grandfather turning her into a vampire, and she would still be with me now. She wouldn’t be stuck in limbo between worlds, left to wander that tomb of a house for eternity! Why hadn’t he changed her in the first place?! Why would Menaan have chosen to leave her, to let her wither away and die? It made me angry. I was ready to scream. What had she meant about him bringing her back? Was it possible to return from the abyss, after death? No, I was I was taking her too literally. Maybe what she’d hinted at was more spiritual than physical. Maybe she simply wanted him to be with her instead of where he was, which was clearly on a completely different plane altogether. It would drive me insane, to the edge and over if I kept on obsessing about my grandparents. I had pressing issues in the real world to deal with. On cue I heard the parlor door of my private chambers click and close. Isha and Khala’s ceaseless banter floated into my room. Sitre followed behind with a cart of Rinalde’s—I assumed choice delights—designed specifically to tempt me out of bed for this ill-timed soiree. She came to the side of the bed in time to see me wipe my red eyes.

  “You’ve been crying,” she said, leaning to look at me and then she sat down.

  “I’m not going,” I told them defiantly, propping myself up. “I mean it. I don’t want anything to do with it, big reveal or not. There isn’t anything they can say that will change how I feel.”

  Sitre frowned and reached for the cart. She peeled back a silver top, revealing eight white Nipples of Venus and other attractive French chocolates. I knew Rinalde had made them with me in mind, and I felt an inclination to test them, for his sake. It was probably the perfect remedy for my current depression—Sitre smirked and plucked one perfect truffle, waving it near my lips. I passed on shear principle.

  “Are you kidding?! He never makes these anymore. It’s been years!” Khala snatched up a perfect cream in her slick hands and tossed it into her round mouth. “He won’t make them for us, the animals, but for you, the princess, of course!” she garbled like a pig. Khala licked her lips hungr
ily and winked at me. “You’re missing out!”

  “Try one?” Isha offered me with a sweet smile. She stood a foot from the bed, small hands on her tiny hips, her long braid draped over her peach tunic. I loved her easy style, and her effortless charm. She would become one of my dearest friends, but I still wasn’t eating one of her damn chocolates. You’re very stubborn, she sent with a pout. Even she couldn’t resist Rinalde’s magic touch. Three more pieces of ecstasy disappeared from the tray.

  “Yum!” Isha grinned and dared to take one more.

  “You shouldn’t eat too many Ish,” Khala warned.

  “Why not?” her sister worried.

  Khala raked Isha’s backside with her hand, “Your butt’s getting bigger, that’s why!”

  “It’s not!” she squealed, slapping Khala’s hand away and quickly dashing for the mirror to gauge her hips. The frantic look her eyes was horrendous.

  “Isha, you’re perfect,” I assured her softly from the bed. She blew me a kiss from her reflection and dropped her tongue at Khala, who rolled her eyes and scoffed another treat.

  “Alright, enough messing around!” Omri ordered. To me she snapped her fingers, “You—up, bathe, and dress,” she clicked her tongue, plucking me straight from the sheets as easily as if I were her own kitten. I was surprised she didn’t bite my gruff and haul me to the tub herself. “I may if you don’t move it,” she threatened.

  I grumbled as I wound myself out of my clothing and into a bathrobe. I went through the menial motions of washing myself, my hair, and brushing my teeth. That felt pretty good actually. When I’d finished I stood, towel-wrapped, ankles dripping onto the lush carpet. My guardians set about preparing me for this monstrosity of an event. Sitre pressed her thumbs over my scowling in order to begin applying my make-up. I conceded and let my skin fall into a relaxed state to make her job easier. What was the point in fighting anyway? My whole life was quickly spiraling out of control—I may as well go with it.

  “Drama queen,” Khala mouthed breathlessly. I ignored her.

  “Shouldn’t we be listening to funeral processionals, instead of,” I paused, listening, “whatever the hell this is?” Omri laughed. “I don’t understand a word,” I said, thumbing toward the stereo that was pumping out the titillating beat of drums, clappers and lyres.

  “It’s Egyptian folk music Lina,” she told me. “I’m surprised Ahmenos never played it for you.”

  “He did,” I told her, casting my head down.

  “We thought it might cheer you up,” said Isha, glancing at her sisters, “guess I can see how that might have been a mistake.”

  “Why bother dressing me at all?”

  “It is a formal dinner,” Omri replied persuasively. Her tone made all the fight go right out of me.

  She and Isha worked diligently on my hair, while Khala painted my nails and toes and Sitre finished my face. The colors of the shadow, and polish were a deep red purple, like blood—it was a nice contrast to my brown skin but I’d never worn anything as bold before. I wanted to hate all the pampering, to be disagreeable, but I couldn’t. It felt nice, to be taken care of. I still didn’t see the point though. Why bother sprucing up? I was most likely about to get eaten anyway. In any case, I’d be with my gran again. That was something.

  “Don’t be so utterly ridiculous! Everyone is coming here for you, not to feed on you,” Khala snipped at me. I could tell she was losing her patience. Good. “It’s easy to lose them, around you.”

  “Lina,” Sitre said softly, as she touched her hand to my arm. “This is one day. It’s only one day, you can bare it, can’t you?” I only shrugged at her, deliberately keeping the jarring tune at the forefront of my mind, so she and her sisters wouldn’t hear that I was planning to leave.

  “Such a spoiled brat!” Khala cursed under her breath. She was finishing the last toe and wanted to shove my foot right in her face.

  Do it, and I’ll dump this polish all over your gown! She eyed the garment bag hanging over the canopy.

  Promise, I tempted.

  “Khala!” Sitre shouted at her. “Lina, enough.”

  “Only the daughter of Ahmenos would be given all these gifts and still be ungrateful!” She leered at me from the floor.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

  “It means that your father carries an overt sense of entitlement, as if the rest of us don’t matter as much as his child.” She slid her sharp nail beneath mine, in order to remove excess paint. She’d cut me in the process, before stomping to the vanity and slamming the bottle into the mirror.

  “Hey!” Isha tugged her sister’s arm.

  “I didn’t ask for this Khala,” I said, biting back the sting.

  “We didn’t either,” she retorted, arms linked.

  Sitre took up my hands to make sure they hadn’t been smudged in the scuffle. Khala glowered near the table, her hands now balled tightly at her sides. Isha shoved into her in order to grab the dryer. There was playfulness in her approach but also an unspoken lecture.

  Apologize, she told her, when it was clear there’d be no amends for Khala’s part.

  “Omri, the sooner she gets on board, the sooner this will all be over!” she snarled instead.

  That’s not an apology, Isha scowled.

  I knew she’d rather bite off her own slick tongue than say she was sorry for anything, least of all to me. Khala tread a hair-line between being someone’s friend and actually being their enemy. Finally, she stood up and crossed the room. I was seated on a round white stool, half slumping as she made her way over. She shifted her jaw back and forth, as if the words were cement in her mouth. I couldn’t help but smile.

  “I, apologize,” she offered. It almost sounded sincere, almost, if it weren’t for the flames in her eyes.

  “Okay,” I accepted. With her sisters satisfied that the squabble was over, they continued working.

  “Lina, the elders that arrive tonight are Isis and Anchille’s dearest friends—the ones that have been with them centuries, and some more than a thousand years. Everything is going to be fine, right?” Omri asked the other girls, who nodded in agreement, all but Khala who continued bemoaning her station. We had a lot more in common than either of us cared to admit.

  “I have this terrible feeling, I really do,” I told her.

  “It isn’t coming from us,” Omri replied, while working. She didn’t even look at me but I knew she was speaking to them.

  “Try to relax,” Isha said positively. She began looping my hair around the iron and I watched solemnly for a moment before dropping my head. An hour later, shiny black ringlets wove their way around the positioned orchid that she’d placed at the crown. The rest fell down my back in sultry waves. I hadn’t had my hair so styled since prom with Jamie. I’d actually sworn off debutante dos ever since that fateful night. A tsunami of acid whirled in my belly just thinking of it, but thankfully my guardians were too busy to inquire.

  “Linora wanted you to have this,” Omri smiled as she connected a brilliant red stone to Hekate’s, which already had been given to me and lay at my throat. The two pieces fused together in a wash of rose brilliance. “Accept tonight, hear and see with eyes wide open.”

  “It’s so beautiful, thank you.”

  “With the Bloodstone of Sek-met, you now carry all our hearts over your own.”

  I held my hand over my chest. The weight of the necklace was much heavier than before, but somehow with the pieces fused together, I started to feel a sense of wholeness. I continued ogling until Isha clapped her hands and grinned.

  “Dress time,” said Sitre, and she urged Khala to help her remove the garment from the bag. They took it by two ends and carried it carefully over the floor. I put my arms in the air and they slid it down with ease, not taking even a single strand of hair from its place. When it was half on I opened my eyes, too impatient to see the glorious folds of purple fabric against my skin. It was lovely but I could scarcely breathe.

  “W
hew! Good thing I didn’t eat the truffles,” I exhaled, barely. It was my first time in a corset and I swallowed thinly as the final buttons were fastened. Definitely not my time period, at all. I would have pioneered for pants in the middle ages!

  “Oh I don’t know; I think it’s quite becoming. What do you think Sitre?” Omri looked on me with satisfaction.

  “You don’t even need the crown,” a response was whispered.

  “Argh, don’t make me nervous.”

  Sitre raked her thumb under my chin. “An Egyptian princess, who bows to no one.” I felt my other hand tremble inside hers.

  The notion that I would someday become like Isis, was surreal—that was, if I stayed. I held the necklace between my fingers. It was literally, a heavy reminder that this world was still alien to me. Despite that realization, the ornate piece did instill a sense of power. The moment it lay against my bare skin, I felt a whirl of strength deep inside. The fact that my father once held the piece in his own hands, the same hands that had engulfed my own as a child, made me feel better then I’d felt in years. I couldn’t wait to see him, to hold him. Part of my decision to leave the mansion lie in the desperation I felt to go out and find him. Maybe if I did he’d help me figure things out. Knowing he was alive and well and so close to me, was enough to give me courage to keep going, even into this horrendous evening. I turned in a circle to show off the final product even though I hadn’t seen it yet. Immediately there was a melody of applause. I stood in the full length mirror and didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. My small joy faded.

  “What is it, what’s wrong? Oh, you don’t like it?” asked Isha.

  “No, no of course I do, it’s just…”

  “What darling?” Omri tried shifting the back, to provide me a bit more comfort. That wasn’t the problem.

  It took me a moment to answer. “I don’t know who this is?”

  “It’s you Lina, it’s who you’re supposed to be,” she said.

  “I know you say I’m supposed to be her, but I don’t know how. I don’t know if I can.”

  “You can,” Omri reassured me.

  My guardians stood behind, each one watching me in the mirror. I decided to look once more, to see what they were seeing. I smoothed my hands down my arms and over the soft satin folds of the dress. I looked like a porcelain doll, if only for the ornate vintage formal. My hazel eyes were thinly rimmed in black with a sweep of violet shadow and they looked much brighter and full of life. My lips had a hint of pink and they too, looked full, round and inviting. For not eating or sleeping, my skin was healthy and it glowed—there was something slightly off about it though, like it was too luminous. Who’d have thought any girl would ever say that? I hated to admit it and I wouldn’t ever do so out loud, but I was changing. I could feel it. Down in the secret places—places that had always been locked—something was shifting, opening. It scared the hell out of me. I couldn’t help but feel I was walking into an intricate web, one that I might not escape from. I tried to put my faith in my father and grandmother. It was only a few hours and they wouldn’t have guided me here, if it wasn’t meant to be. I looked down at my feet and trembled, knowing that over-confidence would only serve to heighten my anxiety. Isha quickly fastened the towering stilettos and I laughed wildly as I got a mental picture of myself, arms flailing as I tumbled down the stairs in front of everyone! Now that, was the real me.

  “You won’t fall. Anchille is waiting for you,” Isha said.

  I bid them thank you and goodnight then made my way to the end of the staircase where a man in a sharp black suit stood waiting. I looked over him to the twinkling chandelier and watched as the crystals cast a million prisms around the room. Five foot candelabras with red pillars were placed along the hall and entryway—they gave the mansion a more pronounced old world feel. I approached the man in the suit and tapped his shoulder.

  “Little calla lily,” he said, grinning. “Shall we?”

  “You look great,” I told Anchille, unable to cease staring at his unearthly appeal. His skin dazzled in the light as did his smile. My uncle chuckled at my gaping and extended his tailored arm.

  “You flatter me too much Lina. I am honored to be your escort.” I knew then, that he wouldn’t let me fall, not ever. He led me over to Thomas and Charles who arrived, also in style. Rinalde took their overcoats and moved away unobtrusively. Anchille swung me around to them. “Isn’t she a vision?” he surveyed.

  “She is,” permitted Thomas. He moved to take my hand and against my better judgment I allowed it. I was still annoyed by his behavior in the white parlor, but he was Will’s brother. I figured I should give him a chance. Thomas winked and I was staggered, not by his brazenness but by his ability to clean up. Dare I say he actually looked presentable, human even, apart from those damnable honey eyes that bored into mine.

  Apologies, he sent, giving my hand a kiss.

  “Lina,” Charles interrupted, tossing a disapproving glare at Thomas, “you look beautiful.” Then to his brother he sent a warning, Don’t speak to her or touch her that way when the elders arrive.

  Why not, we’re guests too, Thomas complained.

  “I think what Charles means my friend, is that we must adhere to our arrangement as much as possible, when other eyes are watching,” offered Anchille.

  “In other words, the dogs must be silent,” crowed Thomas. I pulled my hand back and shook my head at him to stop.

  “Thank you for the compliment,” I accepted.

  You’re welcome. You’ll see I’m not the mongrel you think I am.

  I pushed his elbow a little. Behave then. There were repercussions for disobedience of any kind and today Isis had made that abundantly clear. I didn’t want to see Thomas cast in with me, the instigator.

  He laughed. “I can do bad all on my own dear.” He gave me a wink.

  Isis descended the winding staircase—her black snake dress clung to her body then fanned to the floor. Anchille drew in a slow, unsteady breath. She gazed at him, her eyes lit like warm steel. They embraced then made their way toward their approaching guests. Isis signaled for Thomas to escort me to her. He did, obediently, but with his own dramatic flair, clicking his heels like a footman. She was stunned by his brazenness but shook it off for the betterment of the evening. I knew then he’d stoop to no one, not even his ancient queen.

  If you keep flattering me dear, I’ll have to steal you from my brother, he joked.

  “I can’t be stolen,” I said through my teeth, keeping watch through the front entry as guests exited from black Town cars. The first couple ascended, arms linked, silver orbs electric in the moonlight. I felt a shiver of terror run up my spine. Thomas was behind me; he leaned down to my ear.

  Does that mean you’re his? he asked, despite Charles throwing him petulant glances in between preparing for civil hand shaking. Isis responded for me.

  “Go, and busy yourself, elsewhere,” she told him with a dismissive wave of her hand.

  Charles laughed and pulled his brother’s arm, forcing him to take a far stance to the new guests entering. Isis introduced me to her friends, Lyon and Etiennette, from Northern France. They were tall, blond and angelic with sculpted faces and icy stares. Thomas and Charles were helpless, ten feet away, arms crossed and their amber eyes flitting, a behavior which made me more afraid. Isis touched my arm and whispered.

  “Vittorio and Aeolian.”

  “How far have they come?”

  “They have a villa, high in the Apennine’s,” she told me before greeting them. They were as statuesque as Lyon and Etiennette, with their black hair, stormy gazes and smooth olive skin. I tried not to cower away, repeating over and over what Sitre had said. These vampires, or Dam Ilah, were here for me, to greet me, and to finish the process of revelation—they weren’t here to devour me. I bravely extended my hand to Aeolian, expecting her to accept, but she didn’t—her eyes instead bulged, as if she’d seen a ghost. She moved in, and way the hell too fast—I blinked
when I realized she was bent rather indecently at my mouth. She sniffed there and I pushed her back without thinking. Aeolian didn’t budge, not even an inch and my hand throbbed from the strike. Vittorio hissed at her when she reached out her hand to touch my throat. I don’t think the sound coming out of his mouth could be considered an actual word—it was more like an animalistic grunt. He called her again, his eyes turned black as a sharks. I knew he was telling her to get away from me and she obeyed. My necklace had done it, had made her pause. If that was enough to keep them at bay, then so be it. I peeked to Thomas and he pulled one finger to his lips. I looked back at the couple and then I heard Aeolian’s voice—it was deep and silky.

  “Hai visto quella collana,” she said to her mate.

  “Tranquillo, allontanarsi da lei!” Vittorio sternly replied, grabbing a hold of her. She wasn’t moved by his attention and her shrewd gaze was hard on me still. I glanced at Anchille for support.

  “Ti ho detto che era Vitto vero, te l’ho detto. Guardate i suoi occhi, che è il figlio di Ecate e Agmenon!”

  I squeezed Anchille’s hand. “What did she say?”

  “Aeolian is surprised that you exist.”

  “Ha, tell her the feeling is mutual,” I folded my arms. “Why did she say Agmenon?”

  “She recognizes that we have brought you here to determine if you are in fact the child of the prophecy,” he explained fast. “It’s hard for her to believe in you.” Anchille patted my arm gently before reaching for a man who could be his twin.

  “Ahnri, welcome home!” Anchille embraced the man while still holding my pinkie in his. Behind Ahnri a woman was hiding. I slipped away back to Isis.

  “My brother-in-law, your uncle,” she announced quietly to me.

  “Who’s with him?” I asked struggling to see the hiding face. She didn’t answer right away. “Isis?”

  “Marija, a Romanian he picked up in Bucharest,” she sighed.

  “She’s human?” I asked.

  “She is,” Isis answered gruffly. “Anchille’s brother has a panache for aleahirat.” Anchille turned over his shoulder to us—his eyes bulged. Isis snickered under her breath before Ahnri approached. His expression was pinched as he glared at Isis while tugging his date in tow. Marija looked like a bewildered child ogling shiny diamonds, while my aunt appeared, enraged.

  “Isis,” Ahnri announced as he turned his date around to pay attention. “Marija, aceasta este sotia Anchille, lui Isis.” The dark haired woman nodded and extended her hand to my aunt, who didn’t respond. I held out my hand to her instead. Ahnri’s jaw twitched but he regrouped fast.

  “It’s nice to meet you Marija, you look really pretty,” I said, admiring her tight red cocktail dress. My other uncle translated and the girl with the round baby face, wide green eyes and short tousled hair dropped her head to me. It was awkward but I did the same, to make her feel more welcome. From what I could tell, by Isis snubbing, she’d not been invited. Maybe it was my showing her up, or simply that she knew how to take the higher road, but Isis stepped to Marija.

  “A pleasure,” she finally offered in a cool, indifferent tone. Feeling less slighted, Ahnri grinned at me then he leaned in to kiss my cheek. It was a silent thanks and I was happy to oblige. I had to wonder if I’d only spoken to Marija to spite Isis, and also, if I cared. While I pondered mutiny, Ahnri explained to his date who I was, and he must have given her a brief history before their arrival, because she seemed to understand despite their language barrier. They seemed to get along perfectly, playing with each other’s hair and laughing privately. All this made Isis blanch and fume with equal measure. I’d forgotten my aunt was still holding onto me until I felt the blood-flow leave my fingers. Anchille took the pause as an opportunity to guide his brother and date toward the wine bar for a drink. When they’d gone I whirled on Isis.

  “What are you doing?” I pleaded for her to release my hand that was turning purple! Ahnri swished his drink to Isis and headed toward the sitting room. Isis growled beneath her breath but still Anchille heard it. He frowned at us and retreated with the other guests, to lessen the awkwardness of the moment I was sure. “That was rude!”

  “She’s not welcome in my home,” Isis gritted. “Ahnri knows this and yet he disobeys,” her full lips curled back over her glistening teeth. Her fangs released as she made a motion toward the parlor.

  “Whoa, hey! Where do you think you’re going?!” I grabbed hold of her with my free hand which did nothing because her body was like stone. Isis stopped on her own and looked down at me. “Why does it—.” I halted, pointing at her mouth. “Could you put those away first?” Isis slowly detracted her fangs and I felt relieved. “What does it matter if she’s here?” I asked.

  “Her presence is...” she paused, staring over my head to where the other guests were congregating, “ill-timed.” She then linked our arms and followed the party to the parlor where Marija had taken to swiveling her hour-glass figure about the elegant room, moving her hips in perfect time with the music. Thomas’ tongue was half-way out of his mouth and the staff serving crudités could hardly maneuver their trays without knocking into the guests. All eyes were on the sensual woman, including Aeolian’s, who licked her lips despite Vittorio’s ever silent reprimands.

  This was not good, not good at all.

  Isis grumbled beside me. “You see! That is why it is a problem.”

  “But, she’s on vacation,” I argued, my own eyes glued to her too. “She’s only having a good time,” I offered. I wanted to run over to the girl and throw a cover over her. Isis was seething.

  “Mingle love, won’t you? When the clock tolls please usher everyone down into the dining room.”

  “What?! Where are you going? You can’t leave me alone, with them!” I freaked. Her expression was dreadful, as was Lyon’s and Etiennette’s as they too kept a vigilant watch over Ahnri’s provocative guest.

  “I must speak to Rinalde my dear, about dinner.” She lied. I was sure by her masked expression Isis was up to something. She tossed me an unconvincing look of innocence.

  I watched as she slipped away, pulling her chef and right hand man with her impatiently. He turned once to give me a mournful look and I shuddered. I knew it was about Marija and I was suddenly so worried for her. They wouldn’t hurt her? It would be so tacky, so out of character, at least for my aunt and uncle. Then again, I didn’t know them. Who knew what they were capable of? Minutes ticked by and the apparent hunger in the room grew. A minute left and I moved abruptly to the door, motioning to Thomas and Charles to help me get everyone to the dining hall. When they were too engrossed I rolled my eyes and went over to them, yanking on each of their arms.

  “Come on! Help me.”

  “I will, I will, I, oh my God, look at that,” Thomas slobbered, shoving his elbow into Charles who was equally mesmerized, but better at hiding it.

  “I’m gonna barf, seriously, please, let’s go to dinner,” I begged.

  “Lina,” said Charles, taking my arm.

  “Thank you.” I accepted and made a motion for the others to follow.

  Everyone was seated and instead of admiring the opulent king’s table decorated in their favor, with greenery and fine crystal, or even the high crown molded ceilings, they preferred lusting over the blushing meat sack in red. I glanced around the room, horrified at how they all remained fixated on Marija—whether my own neck would be spared too remained to be seen.

  18. Declarations

  “My apologies friends,” Anchille said, finally making his way to the head of the table. He motioned for Isis to do the same and she did her best not to look anyone directly in the eye. Anchille lay his napkin in his lap, and watched as Rinalde poured his drink. He smiled and raised his glass. “Let us at long last enjoy a glorious dinner together.” The covens followed their hosts’ lead, but the invisible animosity had everyone teetering on thin ice. For me, the tension was stifling.

  The servants entered with carts, each one covered wit
h crème linens and displaying flutes filled to the brim with slushy bright contents. The guests glanced briefly to the staff, acknowledging them moderately before turning their attention to their hunger. Rinalde set a silver dish in front of me without lifting the cover. Before he backed away he settled his gaze on me. It was full of empathy, as if he wished he could whisk me back into the safety of his kitchen. I winked at him and he barely mustered a crooked grin. Something was up, and he was privy. Seconds later the bell rang three long sounds. Anchille nodded to Rinalde and the Frenchman headed into the foyer. We heard him open the door and there was a faint gasp that followed as he greeted the newcomer. A husky warm voice floated in and with that sound, a heat, one that I immediately recognized. Anchille stood and clasped his hands over his jet black suit; a reluctant smile met his composed face when he looked at me. I glanced over to Isis first. She was further hardened if that were possible.

  “Monsieur William,” Rinalde clicked as he held his right arm for Will to pass. My heart dropped anchor at my feet as Will strode past the others.

  He was showered, shaved and dashing in blue. His white collared shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and I literally found it difficult to focus on anything but him. He bowed to Isis and then turned the chair outward so he could join us. Will took up the napkin, placed it in his lap, then brought his forearms on the table where he clasped his hands. I knew my mouth had fallen open—I made no attempt to close it. He was staring at me. I couldn’t see because in a rush of heat I’d lowered my eyes to my setting, but, I could feel it. By the way everyone was snarling in their blood soup I assumed his behavior was not only un-appreciated but as inopportune as the human girl sitting down from me.

  “You look beautiful tonight,” he said. My heart was thundering in my ears when I finally met his gaze. A string of objections followed but Will ignored them completely. To him, we were the only two people in the room, maybe even the world.

  “Thank you,” I twittered uncontrollably like an idiot, wishing I could stop myself from reacting to him in such a child-like way. I couldn’t help it, not at all, not even a little bit.

  “Brother, brother...” Thomas nudged Will’s elbow, “you’ve got a bit of drool, just there,” he gargled under his breath. Will paid him no attention at all. His eyes never left mine and then I could feel the tip of his foot beneath the table. A spasm shuddered deep inside me.

  “William,” Isis snarled. At first it seemed he wouldn’t reply, but when she moved he turned to her.

  “Isis,” he replied, with mirrored abrasion. She made a hideous noise from her throat.

  “I don’t recall Rinalde delivering you an invitation.” Isis glanced to the doorway where Rinalde stood holding Will’s overcoat. His face was red and he appeared to shrink at her glare.

  Will tapped the table with his sharp nail. “I saw my brothers getting ready. I figured, why shouldn’t I join.” He smiled at me.

  A string of growls from around the table ensued then and the only one who remained quiet was clueless Marija, who I believe was relieved to not have all the attention on her. Anchille, Thomas and Charles looked to Will, and finally one of them silently urged him to stop. Will dismissed their concern, blatantly ignored the disapproving sounds coming at him from across the table. He spoke only to me.

  “My chest hurts to look at you,” he said, before releasing such a tortured expression that I could feel my blood pumping harder and harder. I had steady my breath.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” I narrowly managed. A vignette separated he and I from the group; only the flicker of candlelight remained.

  “Mmm. I missed you today,” he said in exhale, as if the afternoon for him had been utterly dull until this moment. I bit my lip, feeling excited in a way I’d never been but also, full of dread at the repercussions we would both invariably suffer. It was madness.

  “I missed you too,” I admitted, still not fully understanding my intense feelings for him.

  I again heard discriminate growling. The other vampires seemed to concur with Isis and made no qualms about letting Will know. Their faces slightly morphed from serene to ghastly in seconds. Their lips receded over their sharp teeth in an offensive way and then Thomas and Charles stared at Will. Their pleas were more persuasive than before but nothing could take Will’s attention from me. Isis silenced her guests’ incessant hissing with a wave of her hand and once again they were beautiful and complicit. Will and I continued to observe one another with innocent curiosity. After a few moments of silence someone cleared their throat.

  “Isis?” said Lyon, leaning over his empty plate in order to see her straight on. “I believe these two are in love,” he said speculatively. Isis threw another staunch glance to Will before she answered.

  “It is nothing. It’s of no consequence to the evening’s affairs.”

  I choked at her hurtful words.

  “Do you hear that, she said this is nothing?” Will motioned between us. I urged him with a look to let it go despite how angry I was. Whatever was going on between us, whatever craziness was beginning, now seemed not the time to make any sort of declarations. My thoughts didn’t matter—it was Isis who would put a stop to it. As though she were in my last pleas she stood from her place and loomed at Will.

  “Remember your place,” she barked at him. It only took him a second to respond and he did so, without diversion.

  “I remember it well, you need not remind me,” he told her. Will smoothed his suit arms then took a healthy drink of his brother’s wine. When he began downing the entire thing in belligerence Charles reached for the glass, taking it away after it was emptied. Isis laughed.

  “Do not speak in a tone that suggests you misunderstand my meaning William. You may well be the heir to Lycion’s throne, but you are not an elder here,” she growled.

  “But I am an elder,” he corrected, making certain he made eye contact with each of the coven members.

  “How did this happen?” Lyon asked. His wife put her calm hand to his and they both turned their focus to Anchille, who like Isis had risen. He gestured for her to take up her seat again then he too sat back down.

  “Friends, let us dine and get our heads clear. The children have done nothing wrong,” he interceded. It was funny to hear him refer to Will as a child, but I suspected that to them, age measured in millennia did make him an infant. He had only a few thousand years to Isis’ ten or more, who really knew. It was the difference between a five-year-old and a person in their thirties. The wisdom, insight, and experiences were worlds apart.

  “What you say may be true Anchille but forgive me, this may not be something we can ignore,” Lyon responded more firmly. “We came here to assist in the revelation, in hopes of fulfilling our part in the prophecy, which is a gift to us all. If that has been compromised, in any way, which would leave us further fallen,” Lyon looked to Isis again, “we have a right to know.” The rest concurred. Isis shot forward, ignoring Lyon and the other elders. “Mark my words boy, you will find this path least desirable! I care not who your father is!”

  “Isis!” Anchille started.

  “It’s alright,” Will said, leaning back in his chair, contemplating. Finally, he put his napkin to his plate and stood slowly. “All of you hear me now. I am no child. I am a man, a solider, and heir to your last true kingdom where Lycion, my father still sits! He didn’t abandon that post as you did.” At this he dropped his biting stare on Isis. “I’ve served you and served you well. Perhaps you are the one who needs reminding of my purpose here and its validity.”

  A cacophony of discontent rumbled the room though it was clear no mouths had moved. Isis’ silver eyes widened as she sat against the smooth velvet chair, fuming.

  “Ahmolina?” Lyon addressed me formally. I thrust my tongue in my cheek.

  “Lina.”

  “My apologies,” he obliged after I corrected him. “Permit me?” he said, walking behind Etiennette’s chair and making his way to me.

  I
knew what he wanted and I nodded as bravely as I could. There was no sense putting up a fight. I was outmatched. I felt the familiar tickling around my brain as he held my hand in his. He began tapping into the deep reservoir of my thoughts and feelings. When he’d finished he looked around the room and back to me in surprise. I cowered in his grasp, knowing the heat of my true feelings for Will were on full display.

  “She is in love, with him,” Lyon said, pointing at Will and then returning to his seat. He took a sip of his blood, set his glass down then beckoned Etiennette to join him. Aeolian and Vittorio did the same. They were leaving, because of me. I turned to Isis who was shaking her head.

  I wanted to die.

  I looked to Will then, it was a reflex. He smiled short, his butterscotch eyes round in anticipation. I could hear my own pulse throbbing in my ears. It was a hot, agonizing sensation that left me clammy all over. Suddenly the satiny fabric of the gown was like wet saran wrap on my skin. Anchille flashed to his feet, barring his guests from exiting.

  “Everyone please, there’s no need for this, sit down, I beg you,” he encouraged. “Isis, tell them.” She did nothing to persuade her guests because she was too busy mentally assaulting Will. And whatever private assault she was unleashing, he was taking it, blow after mighty blow.

  “So what!?” I blurted crazily, keeping my eyes glued to Will’s. “Who cares how I feel, what does it matter?!”

  Lyon whirled around behind Anchille’s chair. He placed his hand to his friend’s shoulder; consequently, his touch made my uncle go a little white. Wasn’t he the oldest thing here, apart from Isis? Didn’t these members have to obey him? What the hell was happening?! Lyon loosened his hold, like he hadn’t noticed how forcefully he was gripping Anchille. His expression changed to shock. He and his mate shared an exchange before he addressed my uncle. “She doesn’t know, does she? Anchille?” Lyon prompted. Aeolian groaned as if the entire conversation was an inconvenience.

  “Vitto, ti ho detto che era una perdita di tempo!” she growled in his ear. Vittorio didn’t seem emotionally moved by the nights turn of events. He only took her by the back and led her around the table.

  “Stop, please! No one is leaving,” cautioned Anchille. He pleaded with Lyon and the others to return. When they reluctantly obliged he took his place. “I of course can only attest to what Isis and I have shared with her. Lina knows what we all are and I would venture to guess that she’s learned a bit about our wolf brothers, thanks in part to Will.”

  “Understood, but my friend, it is clear she knows nothing of the consequences,” Lyon interjected.

  “I know them,” I said, before Anchille could speak for me. Lyon seemed surprised. “I know all about the tortures you inflicted.”

  “That I inflicted?” he asked aloud, his eyes flitting between everyone. “It wasn’t I who carried out the punishments child. You must look to your matriarch for that.” He cast an eye at Isis then sat back in his chair, his arm heavy over the edge of the table. Etiennette touched it softly.

  I gaped at Isis. “It was you?” I glanced at Anchille and back to her. “You did those terrible things, to all those people? You murdered, all of them, the women sired to protect, you,” I was choking on the revelation. She was leaning casually to the side, her gaze shrewd, unapologetic. “How could you, to Sitre, Lydas, the others?”

  “Lina, don’t,” whispered Charles.

  “I’m sick to my stomach, I can’t even look at you,” I told her. “You’re a monster.”

  Before we could blink Isis was out of her seat, her knuckled fists hard against the table. “I did what I had to, to keep order. I would not, and will not allow chaos back into our world, a world that already treads shaky ground! You are to be our salvation, but with him,” she raised her long dark nail in Will’s face, “you will be our undoing!”

  “Isis stop this!” Anchille ordered her.

  “You’ve no control over your own house!” roared Aeolian. She’d meant the snide comment for Isis, who shrieked in her direction, her eyes blood red.

  “First I will remove him,” she glared at Will, “and you will be next!” Before anyone realized, she had Will by the throat against the wall, his feet inches from the floor.

  “NO!” I screamed, immediately reaching to stop her. She waved her free hand in my direction, which sent me sailing into the far corner. Anchille grabbed Isis in a flash even as she writhed in his arms. She was able to free herself but Will was ready, his orbs flaming yellow and his skin ablaze. Thomas and Charles were at his side, begging him to retreat but he wouldn’t budge. I watched in horror from the corner, unable to move.

  “How dare you!” she roared, shattering the glasses on the dining table. Marija flew back from her seat, as glass shards hit her face, and arms.

  “Ahnri! Ahnri! Sunt sângerare, am sângerare, ajută-mă!” she wailed, covering the blood spurting from her wrists. He looked stunned next to her. Like a robot he wiped some of the debris from her arm in silence, even as she screamed. It all happened in slow motion then, the coven members took their attention from Isis and Will, and onto the poor woman. Soon all their eyes were black as night. The only sound in the room was the beating of her heart, or maybe it was my own, pounding. I wanted to go to her, to help her, but my legs wouldn’t move. I was frozen. Marija blinked at Ahnri, and then, it was as if she didn’t know him at all. Her mouth dropped open and she began to cry instead of scream. She was shaking her head at him, silently pleading with him.

  “Please,” she cried in English. “Don’t,” she begged. They all leaned in closer to her, and Aeolian was practically on top of Marija, lips receded, her fangs long and glistening. She made a grunting sound and then she struck. Within seconds the beautiful Romanian girl’s white neck was exposed and Aeolian had her in her grip. I yelled to Ahnri to stop her, to do something, but he wouldn’t even look at me. It was like he couldn’t hear, anything. I managed to turn my stiff body toward Isis.

  “Do something!” I was able to move a little more and I lobbed myself away from the floor and onto the edge of an overturned chair. I pulled myself up as best I could. I knew then it was Isis keeping me immobile. She looked down at me briefly and for a split second she appeared remorseful. “If you care at all, please, stop this.” Isis turned from me and continued holding Will’s throat. In her other hand, was her own husband. Anchille wasn’t hurt by her grasp, but even he could do nothing to stop her. She wanted the rage. She invited it. Isis was not herself, or maybe, she was. “You say you don’t want the chaos that a mixed coven brings, but you, you’re doing it, all on your own,” I told her softly. “Let him go Isis. Let him go, and save her.” She still wouldn’t relent, even as Marija’s life was draining away. “Isis please! They’re killing her!”

  Finally, she released Will. He fell back into Charles’ arms coughing and clutching his neck. Thomas and Anchille came to my side and helped me up. We watched as Isis took the lifeless body of Marija away from Aeolian and Ahnri who’s mouths were stained red. There was zero remorse in the Italian woman’s black eyes as Isis carried Marija to the door. Anchille left Will and I and went to Isis’ side. Ahnri got to his feet. He assessed the damage, and then the blood on his own hands. Aeolian sat in her chair, licking proudly to all of our disgust. Ahnri was so tortured by what he’d done he could barely bring himself to look at anyone. Aeolian rose her dirty chin at him as he made his way around her chair, his head hung.

  “It was bound to happen,” she told him. “You cannot date, your food.”

  Ahnri’s back stiffened. Without warning he slapped her hard across the face, sending her to the floor near the hearth. Her head hit the marble with a crack.

  “You are a demon. It’s all you’ll ever be. It’s a good thing your child died Aeolian, else you would have eaten him.” With that Ahnri left the room. Aeolian’s head snapped up. Vittorio tried helping her but she shoved him away.

  “No! Leave me alone!” she shrieked at him. He shook his head somberly at her. r />
  “Ahnri?” Isis called to him. The drop of his head was so profound that it actually made a noise.

  “Yes my queen?” he answered compliantly. It was the most painful thing I’d ever witnessed.

  Isis took a moment to look at the pale body in her arms. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to hug her, or throw her away like trash. Isis pursed her lips before looking at Anchille who nodded to her. “She will survive.”

  Ahnri staggered near the head of the table. He had his hand over his chest and from the side, we could see red tears fill his eye. “Take her back to where she came from. Say your goodbyes to her and then return to this house,” Isis commanded. Ahnri bowed to them both.

  “Your will be done,” he agreed.

  My heart raced, forcing me to hold tight over the edge of the dinner table myself. I could no longer rationalize it all away as some un-real fantasy. For all their wealth, their elegance, and their saccharine tones, they were at their base, feral. No amount of dress or refined speech could continue protecting them. I had just witnessed a coven go native, and I never wanted to see it again. I wanted to run away from them screaming. Whatever they wanted from me, I couldn’t give. I had to get away from them. But how could I execute that plan successfully without them knowing? If they could read my thoughts, would I make it out alive? And then I wondered… would Will come with me? Immediately I felt his heat and my head popped up. He stared inside me—without moving a muscle, he told me, stay put.

  “Let us convene in the white parlor. Considering the circumstances, we have much to discuss before going forward with our previous plans,” Anchille announced. To Vittorio he said, “Take a moment to get composed, and then join us.” The two vampires left the room then. “Rinalde, Antoine, please take everyone’s glasses so that they may find comfort and music while we deal with things here,” he suggested. “Lina dear, why don’t you go in and join the others, for the time being,” he commanded.

  “What about Will?” I asked firmly. It was already clear he wouldn’t be allowed to join us for the duration of the evening and that certainty filled me with dread. Charles tried prompting him again to make an exit, before things could escalate further.

  “I’m staying,” Will told his brothers.

  “Don’t be stupid!” said Thomas. Then he got in his brother’s ear, “It’s not worth getting killed over.” He reached for Will’s arm.

  Will yanked his it back. “I said you can go.”

  “Isis?!” I yelled to her, but she only turned her back on me, and with Anchille and a repentant Ahnri in tow, carried Marija’s lifeless body from the room.

  A half an hour had passed. I sat in the parlor with Lyon, Etiennette and the others. No one spoke. No one ate or drank. Everyone was quiet. I could hear voices in the hall, and as they got louder and more forceful I went to the doors to hear better. Lyon tried to distract me but I pushed him aside. I heard Isis first.

  “William, do yourself and Lina a favor and do not make me ask twice.” I stuck my head out just enough. I could see him, but Isis wasn’t visible.

  He straightened his suit jacket tautly, brushed off his pants and turned on his heel. Thomas and Charles went around me at the door and headed down the hall to be with Will. The evening was forming itself into a bitter nightmare. My face grew moist and I could feel droplets of sweat pool at the nape of my neck.

  “Isis?” I heard Anchille say reproachfully.

  “It is finished Anchille.” Her words struck me hard. I knew what that meant. She was going to take care of Will.

  “No!” I cried from my hiding place.

  “Lina?” Anchille called out to me, and then I saw him come around the corner. I walked out too, making my way to Will’s side. Etiennette and Lyon followed closely behind.

  “Take her to her room,” said Isis.

  “No!” I shouted back, latching onto Will, but it was too late. Lyon held me firm to his chest, then handed me off to his wife. I began to sob as they ushered me away. I struggled but they only kept pushing me farther.

  “The hour is late,” Lyon projected, more paternally. I stopped fighting. It was as if I’d been placed in a trance. I stared up at her youthful face. The solicitation in her voice sickened me, but there was nothing to be done about it. I was powerless against them. My dress swished over the marble floor. I was able to look back once and only at Anchille.

  “It is for the best child,” he said emotionally. I wasn’t able to speak aloud.

  I trusted you, I sent to him. Even my mind’s voice sounded like garbled mush. What had Etiennette done to me? We walked down the corridor to the wing that led to my quarters. I couldn’t feel my feet on the floor, didn’t know if I was making the necessary steps on my own or if I was being carried. When we arrived Etiennette helped me to disrobe. I obeyed as if I hadn’t any other choice, but on the inside I was screaming. She placed me in a nightgown and laid me in my bed, propping my arms over my midsection, like a corpse. It was how I felt on the inside. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t twitch, and couldn’t bat a lash. She stared at me in wonder, but Lyon soon came for her.

  I was left alone in the dark.