Chapter 9
The New Forest Mall
was like most malls in the country: a mixture of the bland but
necessary (think Limited Express, Jean Junkies, Sizzle), to the
yummy (Pizza Ria, KFC, Brent’s Ice Cream Palace), to the esoteric
(Leather & Lace, Sharpen, Versailles Vamp, Magic
Forest).
There were quite a
few people out and about—though no vamps, of course—but everybody
seemed to be paired up, or walking in groups, and a feeling of
tension reverberated through the air. Which was no surprise, given
the recent spate of brutal deaths.
Rhiannon and I deftly
maneuvered our way through the main drag until we came to Slither.
I swallowed my reluctance and entered the store, Rhia behind me.
The shop was geared for clubbing, and the outfits were pretty much
what I figured Lannan wanted me to wear. The money rankled. I had
no intention of decking myself out to be his toy, but I had to at
least meet him partway or I’d be in violation of my contract, and I
knew his punishment would be swift and terrible.
The entry was through
a set of beaded curtains, and once we were inside, the light
dimmed, with spotlights aimed toward the merchandise. Mannequins
wore tightfitting jeans that rode so low on the hips it was hard to
imagine how they stayed up, and skirts so high you couldn’t hide
your panties if you tried. Sequins and glitter abounded, as well as
spikes and rivets and studs.
“I like leather, but
this isn’t my style,” I said, staring at the clingy, revealing
clothing. “I don’t mind showing some leg or cleavage, but I’m just
not comfortable with this crap.”
“What about this?”
Rhiannon motioned to a black dress with gold threads running
through it. It had a plunging keyhole neckline, which, though it
showed off the cleavage, didn’t leave me with the feeling of
tits on parade. The back was draped,
reaching the top of the butt, and the dress was snug and
form-fitting. But at least it wasn’t so short that I couldn’t bend
over without worrying—and around Lannan, bending over wasn’t such a
good idea.
The material was knit
and it even had a cute little butterfly charm that held the keyhole
shut. I flipped through the rack until I found one in my size—most
were made for girls the size of young boys, and I was most
assuredly not that—and carried it into the dressing
room.
A glance at the price
tag took me aback—fourteen hundred. But he’d given me over twice
that amount with which to shop so what the fuck?
Rhiannon followed me.
I shimmied out of my jeans and top, then dubiously assessed the
dress. Finally, I sucked it up and slid it over my head, thankful
that it had no sleeves. It made it easier to slide it over my
curves.
“Oh man.” Rhia gave
me one of those Wow looks. “Look in the
mirror.”
Dreading the sight, I
obeyed, and I blinked as I stared at my reflection. Wow was right. The dress hugged my body in a
flattering way, showing that I had an hourglass figure as well as
muscle. It was lightweight and comfortable, and yet I definitely
felt dressed. Some dresses left me feeling naked.
“I can sit okay.” I
demonstrated, then knelt down, squatting to pick up a thread off
the floor. “I can crouch down without my ass giving a peep
show.”
“It looks wonderful
on you. All you need is a shawl and some heels to go with it.”
Rhiannon shook her head, smiling softly. “I could never wear that.
I’d be far too self-conscious. But I have a beaded cocktail dress I
found in Mother’s closet and it fits me, and it still looks
new.”
“You think
you’d be self-conscious? I know that
Lannan just wants to watch me in something like this. I know all
too well that he wants me because I won’t succumb to his vampire
charms, and I won’t knuckle under. If I gave in, he’d probably lose
interest.”
And there was the
rub: If I did what he wanted and had sex with him, Lannan would
probably stop bothering me. But that would compromise my essential
nature. I didn’t want him—at least not when he wasn’t using his
charm on me, and even then only my body responded.
“I don’t know about
that, Cicely. You never know why people get obsessed. Sometimes
giving them what they want only makes it worse.” Rhia bit her lip,
then said, “I wish I’d never let you agree to the blood tithe. I
wish we’d waited—Myst was going to turn Heather no matter what, and
I just couldn’t face it. But now, every time Lannan makes a play
for you, I feel guilty. You could have avoided that part of the
deal if you hadn’t been trying to help me.”
I sat down beside her
on the narrow bench and took her hand. “It’s not your fault.
Heather’s my aunt; I was going to do everything I could to help
her. How could I ignore the fact that she was in danger? I screwed
up on the time limit thing with Geoffrey, but that was my own
fault. I’ve never dealt with vampires much . . . not till now. But
Lannan . . . No, I think even if he hadn’t horned in on the deal,
he would have been coming after me.”
She let out a long
sigh. “I guess you’re right. Everything is just so fucked—and
nothing’s settling long enough to catch my breath. Don’t you feel
like you’re in the middle of a whirlwind and it won’t stop
spinning?”
Grinning, I gave her
a quick kiss on the cheek. “Rhia, my mother saw to it that I’ve
been on a carnival ride since I left here at six years old. Come
on, help me get out of this. Then we’ll go shoe shopping, look for
a shawl, and go out to lunch.”
With a grateful
smile, she helped me ease the dress over my head, and I slipped
back into jeans and my turtleneck. Truth was, everything did seem
like one big blur to me. But I decided to be the strong one. Rhia
needed me, and even though I was the younger cousin, I felt so much
older, in so many ways.
On the way home, we
stopped by Anadey’s Diner for lunch. The snow was coming down hard
as we gingerly parked next to a snowbank and hurried for the door.
The lights on the Christmas tree glimmered out through the window,
reminding us that the winter solstice wasn’t far away. I had my
doubts about how much of a celebratory mood we’d be in, and if Myst
didn’t stop with the snow, there wouldn’t be longer days to look
forward to . . . not for a long time to come.
Peyton waved at us as
we pushed through the door and stomped the snow off our feet. She
was cooking, as usual, while Anadey waited tables. Anadey had
become our touchstone since the Indigo Court took Heather, and we
clung to her as we’d cling to a surrogate mother.
She brightened as we
entered the diner and motioned to an empty booth. I glanced at the
counter. Werewolves from the Lupa Clan . . . crap. Why they ate here, I didn’t know—considering
how much they detested the magic-born—but a few had become regulars
and were in here every time we dropped by.
They snarled as
Rhiannon and I walked by, and I ignored them. It was dangerous to
engage the Lupas, and we did our best to pretend they didn’t exist.
I slipped into the booth on one side, Rhiannon on the other. Anadey
came by, pulling out her pad.
“You girls want hot
coffee?”
Rhiannon shook her
head. “No more for me today. Tea, though—strong, with
milk.”
I glanced up at the
older woman. She was pushing sixty, but in pretty good shape even
though her bones creaked and her muscles hurt from the long hours
she spent on her feet. Anadey crackled with magic. She was one of
the shamanic witches who could work with all four elements—unusual,
and they were usually loners.
“I want a hot mocha,
please. Triple shot, with whipped cream and chocolate shavings,
please.” I smiled at her and she laughed.
“Oh, Cicely, you and
your chocolate shavings. Every time you order hot cocoa or mocha,
you ask for them. Very well. You girls hungry? Do you need menus?”
She automatically wrote allergic to
fish on the order pad—as she did every time I came in. I
gave her a grateful smile, and she shrugged.
“I think I know what
I want—what about you, Rhia?”
Rhiannon
nodded.
“We’re ready to
order. I want your turkey plate—turkey, dressing as long as it’s
not oyster based, cranberries, mashed potatoes, and green
beans.”
“You want pumpkin pie
for dessert or Yule log?”
I grinned, suddenly
feeling happy. When times were dark, you had to take happiness
where you found it, and right now it was in the form of a
whipped-cream-stuffed chocolate cake with mint icing. “Yule log,
please.”
She chuckled as she
wrote it down. “Thought so. Rhiannon? What can I get for
you?”
My cousin pondered
the question. “Chicken soup, toasted cheese sandwich, pickle on the
side, and for dessert, I want some of the Yule log,
too.”
“Check. I’ll get this
right in, girls. Rhiannon, do you want your soup now or with your
sandwich?”
“With my sandwich,
please.”
As Anadey headed for
the back to put in our order and fix our drinks, I leaned against
the back of the booth, watching the fall of snow outside the
window. The past couple of weeks, it had seemed like New Forest was
cut off from the world, silent in its shrouded wonder, alone in the
universe. But all over the world, Myst’s people were beginning
their war, making inroads, looking for prey. How many of the
Vampiric Fae existed? How many were out there?
“What are you
thinking about?” Rhiannon asked. “You look so
pensive.”
“Myst and her people
. . . how many do you think there are? How many small towns are
feeling their encroachment, uncertain of what to do? How many
people have they killed in their feeding?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to know. In some ways, I wish
we were the only place they were attacking—then we could run away.
But we can’t ever really run away, can we?”
“If I did, the
vampires would come after me. Or Myst.” I glanced up as Anadey
brought our drinks. “We have to destroy her, you
know—”
A crash from the
counter interrupted me. We all turned just in time to see one of
the Lupa Clan members throw his plate toward the kitchen. He had a
bottle of beer in hand and it looked like there were two empties on
the counter.
“Fucking slut! Can’t
you cook something worth eating?” His words were slurred, but that
didn’t stop him from jumping up and heading around the counter
toward the door to where Peyton was cooking. She’d stopped and was
holding a cleaver in hand.
Anadey rushed after
him. “Tim Wylde—you stop right there before I summon
Ranger.”
He ignored her.
Lucky, one of the older assistants who had seen more than his share
of days but still looked rugged enough to rumble, blocked the door
into the kitchen.
“You just get your
ass back over to the other side of the counter, Lupa.” Lucky was one of the yummanii and he didn’t
care whether a person was Were, magic-born, or vampire as long as
he didn’t have to scrap with them. But let them cross the line and
the older man was leathery tough.
“Get out of my way,
human. You’re no match for me.” Tim
smashed his bottle on the counter, holding up the broken
edge.
Lucky eyed him with a
speculative look. “I would advise against it, boy.”
“Don’t you
boy me, human. You’re weak and sniveling, almost as bad as
the magic-born.” Tim lunged for him with the bottle.
Dodging the attack,
Lucky pulled out a short rod from beneath the counter. It sparkled.
Silver. Lycanthropes hated silver as
much as vampires. He swung it, connecting with Tim’s drunken face,
and the Were screamed and went down on the floor, shifting even as
he did so. The resulting wolf was huge, and as he came up, a
murderous look filled his eyes.
I jumped forward and
closed my eyes. Ulean, bring the
wind—please.
Ulean slammed open
the door with a strong gust of wind, and the snow drifted in as the
currents of air sliced between the man and the wolf, knocking both
off their feet. As man and wolf struggled for footing, I glanced
over at Tim’s buddies, both of whom were starting to turn. If we
didn’t stop this now, Anadey’s Diner would be the home of a
bloodbath.
Just then, a burly
man strode through the open door. He was Were—you could smell it
coming off him, strong with glittering eyes, topaz ringed with
black. The men at the counter immediately turned to him, and Tim
rolled over on his back, showing his belly.
“Tim, Alder, Snell .
. . get the hell back to the compound. Now.” For a moment, the man looked like he was
about ready to take out everyone, and then he pulled up short and
took out his wallet. His eyes never leaving Anadey’s, he fished out
five twenties and tossed them on the counter. “For any damage my
boys did, ma’am. I told them not to come here, but they insist you
make the best burgers in town. I’ll suggest takeout from now on.”
The words seemed to stick in his throat and his hands were shaking,
but he finally turned away and swept out the door behind the three
Lupas.
Anadey stared at the
money on the counter, then finally flipped through the bills and
slid them into the cash register. Lucky was already on his feet,
looking ready to kill. He glanced around the diner to see if there
were any other potential troublemakers, then put away the silver
rod.
I stared at the
departing figures making their way through the storm. “Who the hell
was that?”
“Ben Sagata. The
alpha of the Lupa Clan.” Rhiannon shook her head. “He rules them
with an iron paw, I gather. Rumors are he’s vicious and cruel, but
he tries to keep his people on the right side of the law. Most of
the time.”
“Whatever the case, I
would not want to meet him in a dark alley.” But then again, I’d
already had a run-in with two of the Lupas my first night home, and
one of them had been taken out by the Shadow Hunters. “I wonder how
he knew . . .”
“You mean that there
was trouble? Probably the clan connection. Most Were clans have a
connecting thread that runs through them.”
I glanced over at
Peyton, who had joined us. She tossed her apron to Lucky, who took
her place behind the grill. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” With a
long sigh, she wiped her forehead, leaving a small streak of
grease. I picked up a napkin and gently reached up to brush it
off.
“Do you have a
connection with the werepumas of your father’s tribe?”
She shrugged. “Da ran
off years ago. Left us alone. He never took Mother home to meet his
family—I don’t know if they even knew he married her. The werepumas
are strong with magic, but unlike the werewolves they don’t tend to
approve of interracial marriage, and since my mother is one of the
magic-born, there’s a chance they don’t even know I exist. I’ve
never gone to them to find out. I think I’m afraid they’ll reject
me.”
“Do you want to meet
them, ever?” I was curious. I wanted to meet my father, perhaps
because my relationship with my mother had been so rocky and my
father had given me the gift of flight. Especially now, since I had learned that Myst had
been my mother in my life before. I wanted some feeling of roots,
and the only ones to provide that had been Heather and Rhiannon.
And now, Myst had Heather. Whom would she strip away from me
next?
“I don’t know . . .
as I said, I’m afraid they may reject me. But someday . . . if I
marry and have children and any of them turn up with strong Were
blood, I suppose I should, for their sake.” She looked
uncomfortable, so I backed off.
“We should head
home.” I motioned to Rhiannon.
“But you didn’t get
your lunches,” Peyton said.
“Can you wrap them up
for us?” The thought of a cozy lunch out had been pretty much
disrupted by the Lupa wolves, and the world felt harsh and too
bright with the snow. I wanted to go home, light a fire in the
fireplace, and try to find some time for peace and solitude. I
needed to meditate, to clear my mind and search for some semblance
of inner peace.
Peyton nodded. “I’ll
be over tomorrow to finish up on the shop front with you. I can’t
come tonight because Mom needs me to help her with the housework.”
Peyton was a good daughter, helping Anadey as much as she
could.
“No problem,
Geoffrey’s insisted on seeing me tonight. I’m not looking forward
to it, tell you that much.” I let out a long sigh at the thought,
wanting to chuck everything and go hide my head under the
covers.
“Lannan summon you,
too?”
“Gods, I hope not.”
As Anadey brought us our meals, wrapped in recyclable containers in
a paper sack, I handed her a twenty and motioned for her to keep
the change.
“You look tired, my
dear.” She gave me a quiet smile.
“I am
tired.”
“You need to fly. Go
home, meditate, and stretch your wings. Rhiannon—tomorrow, you come
over for your lesson.” And with that, Anadey was off, serving the
rest of her bustling diner, all signs of the fight with the Lupas
extinguished.
I picked up the sack
of food and turned to Rhiannon. “Let’s get moving.”
“The snow is piling
up awfully fast.” She struggled to push the door open and one of
the busboys came out after us with a snow shovel and shoveled our
path to Favonis.
On the ride home, I
stared at the bleak winter as the wind howled around the car.
Ulean, is Myst growing in her power to harness
the weather?
She is, my friend, she is. And if you don’t stop her, the
winter will never end. She is the season, Cicely. She is the dark
night of the year.
After lunch, Rhiannon
went to lie down for a while and I retired to my room, determined
to spend the afternoon in flight. I needed to transform so badly
that my body ached, and my spirit felt trapped, locked up like a
canary in a gilded cage.
I slipped out of my
clothes, shivering as I opened the window and crouched on the sill,
my pendant around my neck. Closing my eyes, I reached for that
feeling of transformation, of the winds lifting me aloft. A swirl
of snow caught my breasts, but I ignored it, focusing on a silver
light that grew from somewhere deep within me. The light started as
a narrow beam, a laser point, and grew, spreading like the blast
from an atom bomb. As it spread out to encompass my toes and then
my feet, the sensation worked its way up my body, spinning me
around.
I tensed, gritting my
teeth as I leaned forward, and then the ground whistled up to meet
me as I let go and swandived out the window.
Within a blink, I was
in owl form. The shift came easier each time.
I rose on the wind,
Ulean shrieking with delight as she flowed along beside me,
sparkling currents on the slipstream. The air slid past, ruffling
my feathers as I dipped and turned, screeching in pure joy, my
wings slowly flapping two or three times before I stretched them
out to glide on the updraft.
The ground stretched
below, a panorama of white, and the house and forest seemed at the
same time so huge but so small as I circled overhead, reveling in
the freedom flight brought me.
And then, there he
was—the great horned owl—swooping in from the side to match my
movements. We flew, synchronizing movements as he encouraged me to
turn on the wing, to glide like a shadow over the
yard.
You are out during the daylight—not usual, my
friend.
He tipped, wing to
ground, as he turned and I followed suit. I
kept watch for you. It’s dangerous out here for young owls. I would
not have you get hurt.
Who are you? Are you one of the Cambyra—the
Uwilahsidhe?
There was a silence.
And then: I will teach you to hunt now. You
may never need this skill, but if you get stuck in your owl form,
you should know how to take care of your needs.
Inside, I grimaced. I
didn’t really relish eating a mouse or rat, but then something in
my blood stirred and I followed him without protest as we headed
over the yard. Not that I really expected much prey to be out—the
snow had started to fall more thickly and the flakes were sticking
to my wings.
As we glided over the
backyard, the great horned owl suddenly made a slight motion with
his head and turned sharply, homing in on a movement on the snow.
Two rabbits were there, beautiful and white against the ground,
hidden by the camouflage of their coats. I stared in horror as the
owl began a hunting pass, but then my blood stirred and all I could
see was a red haze and the hunger hit me.
I targeted the
smaller of the rabbits, who suddenly looked skyward and then
started to run, but we were faster and I flew low over the smaller
of the pair, instinctively bringing my feet forward and extending
my talons. With one swipe, I grabbed the screaming rabbit by the
scruff of the neck and powered myself back into the air.
Exhilarated, I rose and followed the owl as he flew to the great
oak.
There, he led me to a
hollow in the tree, where he dropped the rabbit and began to feed.
I could feel his ravenous hunger, and my own rose up. I stared at
my prey—now dead and glassy-eyed—and suddenly it seemed a beautiful
feast. As I held it with my claws and began to rip into it with my
beak, the hunger grew and the taste of blood and meat raced down my
throat as I swallowed strips of meat. We fed in silence, and all
felt right with the world.
I ate for a while,
then stopped, satiated. As I gazed at the horned owl, I knew he was
more than he seemed. No regular owl would let me share his nest
without wanting to mate. But he seemed to cut off my questions too
quickly. A sneaking suspicion began to form in the back of my mind,
but I didn’t want to say anything prematurely. Maybe I just didn’t
want to be disappointed. I decided to let the matter drop for
now.
I should get home. I have to get ready for the vampires’
party tonight.
You should be wary of vampires, Cicely. They are
dangerous, far more predatory than our own kind. Owlfolk love the
hunt. Vampires revel in it. His words carried an air of
disapproval behind them.
I take it you don’t like them?
Vampires are parasites. Ultimate hunters, but parasites
nonetheless. And they are unnatural to the world. No, I don’t like
them. Look at what they did to the Vampiric Fae. Myst did not start
out the madwoman she’s become.
You sound like you knew her before she was
turned.
Again, silence. I did
not press. I will be
careful.
Good, we cannot afford to lose you. Not to the vampires.
Not to the Shadow Hunters. And then he hopped out on the
bough near his nest. You should go now before
the snow gets too thick for you to fly in. Warning: The rabbit may
not settle well once you return to your two-legged form. Be
prepared—the results won’t be pretty, but you don’t have time to
wait for regurgitation.
That sounds delightful. But thank you, for
everything. I hopped out behind him onto the branch and
sprang off, soaring toward the house and the open window in my
bedroom. As I landed on the sill, then hopped to the floor, I let
out a soft shriek and let go of my winged form, and within seconds
I was sprawling forward on the floor.
I always came out of
the transformation shivering and icy cold. As I lay there for a
moment, gathering my wits about me, my stomach began to churn and I
scrambled for the bed, pulling myself to my feet. I staggered
slightly, still dazed, but there wasn’t time to grab my robe as my
stomach lurched again. I rushed out into the hallway, naked, and
ran into the bathroom across the hall, slamming the door as my gag
reflex lost it. I barely had time to lean over the toilet when the
rabbit came spilling out, bits of fur attached.
As I heaved up what
would have become my first owl pellet, I felt a perverse sense of
pride, as if I’d just been initiated into a secret society. Finally
done—and realizing I’d eaten far less of the poor decapitated bunny
than I’d thought while in owl form—I flushed the mess and slid down
on the floor.
The owl didn’t like
vampires, that much was certain, and I sensed a slight empathy for
Myst in his words. Which told me . . . not much, since Myst hated
owls and he was always warning me against her. But it did bring up
questions: Had he known her before she was turned? If so, then
whoever he was, he was several thousand years old, which would make
sense if he was Cambyra Fae.
And thinking about
that brought up a sudden thought—I was part Fae, as well as half
magic-born. Being magic-born, I’d have a life span longer than most
of the yummanii—or humans—but since I was half Cambyra Fae, was I
going to live for a thousand years or more?
Wishing I could talk
to Lainule, I brushed my teeth and swished mouthwash around in my
mouth, then filled the tub with vanilla-scented bubble bath and
slid into the embracing warmth. So much to think about, but in the
forefront, the image of Lannan danced in my head, with Crawl
sneaking behind him like a spider, desperately gaunt and dangerous.
A sense of dread overcame me as I tried to wash away the fear of
Lannan’s hands on my body.