FicWad

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Almost finished,” the small cocoa-skinned stylist said, rolling a final skein of hair on the steaming iron she wielded like a magic wand.

Tynan watched in the mirror as the finishing touches went on her coiffure. The woman who looked back at her she hardly recognized. Thin ropes of seed pearls twined the mass of flowing spiral curls. A mask of green silk and peacock feathers covered cheekbone to hairline, setting off the shiny red of the stranger’s lips. Above the bustier bodice of the gown, tiny silver glitter sparkled upon skin like stars in a clear night sky.

“I can’t believe it’s me,” she admitted. During an afternoon of pampering at a day spa of Yvette’s choice, she’d had her finger and toenails painted a sheer pale iridescent silver. Silver and pearl rings circled her first and third fingers, linked by chains to abalone wrist cuffs.

“Madam is tres magnefique.”

Tynan caught herself wondering what Faelen would think. In curious, bridegroom fashion, he’d gone to await her grand descent at the base of the stairs. He’d kept his costume as secret as her own. During their fittings, separate seamstresses tended them.

“I hope I can walk in these shoes.” She peeked down past the peplum hem of the fitted dress. Created from gladiator style sandals of deep green satin with clear soles and heels, the creations boasted an in between mesh of skin tone fishnet spangled with seed pearls.

“Fini!” proclaimed the stylist.

Tynan stood, moved from the vanity to the full length mirror. Taken together, the costume, jewelry, hairstyle and make-up created an image worthy the title ‘Siren’.

Definitely Cinderella at the ball.

The costume made her feel more free than ever. Not only did she look the part of the siren, the femme fatale de la mere, she sensed it in herself. This time in Paris had given her a special gift. It had shown her another world, and it had let her discover herself. Just as her ‘ear’ for the language she’d begun to discover surprised her, so too had the ease with which she’d taken to abandonment.

“I’m ready.” Tynan turned from the mirror and smiled at the lovely black stylist. “I admired your hair enough to trust you and I was so right. Wish me luck.”

To her surprise, the sepia-skinned beauty gripped her bare shoulders and kissed both cheeks. “Bon chance.”

Impending emotional tears prickled Tynan’s eyes. “Merci.”

She’d skipped both her junior and senior prom because she’d lacked the stomach to celebrate after losing both parents. Tonight felt like strangely like a prom and wedding rolled into one.

The shoes proved far easier to walk in than anticipated. She floated down the grand staircase; hearing the hum of conversation rising from below, smelling the aromas of food and flowers, seeing the flamboyant attire of other guests. A fleeting sense of having arrived into the midst of many predators came, and disappeared as soon as she saw Faelen.

He wore a black satin mask on the upper portion of his face, and his onyx hair loose around his wide shoulders. Dressed all in the same shade of moonless midnight, he wore the trappings of a seaman from some exotic land. An amber studded silver chain circled his strong throat above the lacing neckline of the full sleeved shirt. A belt of leather and amber circled his narrow waist over his breeches. Buckles of silver adorned the knee-high privateer boots they tucked into. The significance struck her at once. He played sailor to her siren. And, had doubtless bribed someone to discover her outfit’s theme.

Tynan saw the heat in his gaze as it moved over her. He held out his hand, and a wave of palpable sexuality came with it. Instant tingling response swept through her body.

“A siren of Samhain,” he greeted, voice pitched low and intimate, “casting the lures of her warm skin and cool, sea foam eyes.” Then in his musical language, “Phelizse Shah-maaen.”

Caught up in the sureality of the moment, Tynan stepped from the last stair and gave a pirouette to allow him to take in her costume from all sides. “I’m guessing you wished me Happy Halloween.” She slid a hand beneath the cool slick curtain of his hair, pulled him down and kissed his smooth sculpted cheek.

As he straightened, inky strands of hair clung to the intricate ornaments on her hands. “I did, my love. For tonight, the world as you know it ceases to exist. You’re in the world of the Vampire.”

Fascinated by the way their bodies seemed determined to link by any means, she watched the strands and her bracelets part by slow degrees. “Show me around.”

On their way to the ballroom, countless couples and clusters of exquisitely costumed guests hailed them. Faelen introduced her to each individual, without fail adding ‘mae ilshlava’ to her name. He infused such pride and subtle command for their respect, she felt it silly at this juncture to object.

The towering double doors of the ballroom stood open. Their carved surfaces reflected the enchanting light of the three gaslight and crystal chandeliers and innumerable candles. The animated hum of festive conversation mingled with the rustle of fabric, lilting strains of a mini orchestra, chink of glass and occasional laughter.

Tynan surveyed the milling guests. They stood talking, or danced around the Russian white birch and African ebony parquet floor. Glasses of dark liquid held in their elegant hands caught the flame of nearby candles, displaying ruby depths. Sprinkled among the silk, velvet and jewel bedecked vampires, humans attired in equal beauty mingled. She could identify them with ease. Flutes of champagne, snifters of brandy and martini glasses set them apart as much as their less striking coloring and grace.

“Cairo,” greeted a young looking vampire. He extended his hand to her however. She gauged his grey eyes, slim straight nose, luxuriant spun gold hair, powerful physique and accepted.

“I know you,” she said. “Your wife described you in detail, Dougray.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it with enthusiasm. “Pray, dunna let that make up yer mind about me, lass.”

“Control that charming burr,” Faelen said, “or Io will have your guts for garters.”

Dougray smiled at Tynan. “Ye see ma plight? Subject to a cruel queen’s whim.”

She liked him in that instant. “No sympathy from me. I already think she’s wonderful.”

He might have said more. But, a tall woman decked out as an Elizabethan courtier approached.

“Faelen, you cad.” She batted long russet lashes. “What’s this absurd rumor I hear about a mate?” Her brittle blue eyes raked Faelen from head to foot with a considerable linger mid-body.

His curt tone surprised her. “Midalan, you know I have.” He slid his arm around her waist, drew her close. “My fated, Tynan.”

Midalan recovered with admirable aplomb. She extended her hand. Its three or four inch curved nails seemed to drip with glossy scarlet lacquer. “Apologies. Tynan, is it? What an unusual name. You have to understand how the rumor shocked us all.”

Tynan hesitated to grasp her hand. With her extreme thinness and exaggerated sharp claws, she resembled a half-starved bird of prey. Taking courage from Faelen’s presence, Tynan made brief contact. “Rumors are usually just that.”

Midalan’s skin had felt unnaturally cool and tight. As she smiled, her wide red mouth reminded Tynan of the wax lips once found in Halloween candy. The same candy she‘d laughed about with their hostess. “Rumors, yes. Hmmmm.”

The woman’s speculative purr ended with an abrupt gasp. Her gaze snapped to some distant point then returned. A spiteful glint accompanied it. “Someone you two know well just arrived.”

Tynan glanced around as dozens of glittering costumes crowded close. Garbled exchanges sent between many vampires made her head hum. Her vision dimmed and she stumbled.

A horrifying chunk of memory swept her mind. Helpless, afraid, she found herself alone in an inn room, a creature far superior stalking her. Then a cold forest of blackness, twisted trees and mist. Every instinct of self preservation screamed awake. She fought the hand that grasped hers.

“Peace, Tynan,” Faelen murmured.

The intangible nightmare images receded. In their place - hard reality. Between King Henry the Eighth and a female Musketeer, she saw Blade and a thin woman walk onto the dance floor.

A second hand touched her. Soft, small, female. “Are you all right, ma cher?”

Tynan shuddered. “I don’t know.”

Faelen’s hand remained on her. As did Io’s. Residue of that bleak fearful dreamscape returned. It added to her unease as she watched her nemesis, clad in a Confederate calvary officer’s uniform, lead his companion in a waltz.

A murmur of conversation swept the cavernous ballroom. Tynan realized that the vampires gathered round her recognized them too.

“By observance of aristo courtesy,” Io began as Dougray put his arm round her slim waist, “I must accept them. Make no mistake. Their slightest infraction upon etiquette will stand as grounds for my turning them from my home.”

“Do not involve yourself.” Faelen pulled Tynan close, fitted her to his side. “I’m glad he has come. Blade’s crude and careless. No one could make a better argument for my petition than he.”

Tynan felt adrift, out of her element, and she welcomed his protection as she would a raft if lost at sea. “Will he try to hurt us?”

“Even he isn’t that foolish,” Faelen replied, “he won’t miss the opportunity to indulge his perverse sense of pleasure.”

The initial rush of those who crowded to show their support of Faelen, and others who smiled in malicious anticipation of a scene, ebbed as nothing transpired. Blade and his mistress, called both Gianneth and Giann, settled among the revelers. More conspicuous, yes, but keeping their distance.

Slowly, Tynan began to relax. Her appetite returned. She followed Faelen’s advice at the buffet, and had her first experience with Russian blinis, lamb loin seasoned with the exotic spices of Morocco, and flown-in-fresh-that-morning Australian lobster with white truffle oil and herb mayonnaise. After she’d eaten and had a fortifying glass of Mouton Rothchild he taught her to waltz.

He flirted outrageously with her as they danced, like some men might to charm a woman into bed. She basked in it. Pure feminine delight mixed with the dark sweet thrill of knowing he wanted only her. Despite all the glorious women of his kind, who gazed at him with longing and offering bright in their flashing eyes, he had chosen her.

Some little part of her dared to wonder if it could last between them. Could she let herself love a man like this? Of an ancient mythic race, and living almost as a prince? If she worked very hard, might she discover a way to transplant the dreams of her past and make them bloom in his world? Most of all, did she want to?

“You’re frowning, love,” he murmured as he escorted her from the dance floor. “More champagne? Lobster?” He placed his hand over hers, capturing it between his bicep and palm. “The moon?”

She smiled despite her troubled thoughts. “Champagne will do.”

He talked her into trying a layered dessert of flaky phyla, raspberries and white chocolate mousse topped with creme frache and brandied mint. And, he carried her plate for her into a rose and orchid filled anteroom. The three or four others occupying it melted away like ghosts.

“Did you have a reservation?” she asked.

“I have some influence.” Faelen gave her one of his enigmatic almost-smiles. It deepened the long dimples which bracketed his carnal mouth.

They sat in two Victorian salon chairs pushed close. He acted as her table, holding plate or flute, whichever she didn’t need at the moment. A tall diamond paned window stood open to let in the cold clear night air. After the crush of the ballroom, she savored the chill. Although, she knew the fragile flowers must suffer. It brought to mind the roses she’d seen protected beneath domes in the gardens.

If I stay with him, will I feel like that? A vulnerable creature of seasons, perpetuated by a greater power?

“Another frown.” This time a note of sincerity tinged his teasing tone.

She took the bite from her fork to give herself a moment to think. The pastry, mousse and fruit blended deliciously with the fresh cream. Still, she didn’t know quite what to say. Maybe she made much of nothing.

Tynan did not have time to respond. A roar of voices erupted in the ballroom. A small, hourglass-figured woman with tawny hair and striking lavender eyes rushed in.

“Faelen,” she called, “He is making a scene with a human guest. Pray, settle this here and now.” The costume of a Victorian lady suited her.

Tynan assumed the pretty, vulnerable looking woman knew Faelen very well from her address. His response confirmed it.

“Artemis, unless he engages myself or my mate, my hands are for the moment tied.” Faelen stood, set aside the glass of fizzy wine, and took the troubled woman’s hands in his. “Aside from your naming me your champion in this, I can do nothing.”

“Could I?”

Faelen asked, “Would you want your mate, Remus, to bear that disgrace?”

“He isn’t here!” she cried.

“He would bear the stain all the same in a matter of family.” Faelen’s voice remained kind, level.

Tynan, moved by the woman’s distress, offered, “May I help?”

Faelen’s gaze cut her, direct and seeking. She saw approval, too. “Lady Artemis of the House of Nadirah, I make known to you mae ilshlava, Tynan Singleton.”

Lavender eyes met her own. Lady Artemis reached out and took her hand. “My dear, you’ve been hurt enough. The trouble laid at your door stems from my daughter’s lover.”

The revelation surprised Tynan. This small curvaceous woman bore no resemblance to the harsh-featured, boyishly slim female called Gianneth. “Though no fault of yours,” Tynan replied. “We won’t let that change our opinion of each other.”

Fresh tears gathered in the lady’s eyes. “You do honor to the House of Cairo.”

“Where is Blade?” Faelen asked.

Lady Artemis released Tynan’s hand, clasped hers together in a universal expression of worry and prayer. “In the blue drawing room, with Countess Argentyle. He’s harassing her human escort.”

“Where is Gianneth?”

“There as well.”

Tynan set her half empty plate upon the floor. “I’m safe then. Go.”

“Remain with, my fated,” Faelen commanded Lady Artemis and stood. He turned to Tynan. “This shouldn’t take long.”

Seeing this as an end to the dangerous situation that plagued her, she urged, “Go.”

He bent, kissed her lips. “Stay here. I’ll settle this.”

She felt the loss of him at once. Alone with Lady Artemis, Tynan patted the chair Faelen had vacated. “Sit. We’ll talk.”

They discussed a few inconsequential matters. Tynan retrieved her champagne and sipped it. After a few moments, Lady Artemis sat forward. In an abrupt tone she announced, “Gianneth needs me.”

She felt the hum of mental communication as she worried for Faelen. Had Blade’s mistress joined him in an attack on Faelen? “Where?”

“Outside.” The lady’s high brow furrowed. “She’s outside. She’s come to her senses, and doesn’t approve of what her lover’s doing.”

Tynan made a quick estimate. By now Faelen must’ve reached Blade. Lady Nadirah could account for her daughter. “Go to her. I’ll be fine.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” the lady protested, though her eyes darted to the anteroom door.

“Of course you can,” Tynan urged. “I’m worried. I want to go see what’s happening.”

“Are you certain?”

“Go.”

Lady Nadirah murmured a sincere thank you and vacated the room. Tynan was about to pick up her plate and glass when a strong breeze blew in and a woman landed softly upon the wood floor, just inside the window.

Tynan straightened, her breath caught in her throat. “You scared me, I-” The words died as she recognized Blade’s mistress. She’d shed her southern belle costume in favor of dyed turquoise snakeskin jacket, pants and matching thigh high boots. Her spiky lavender hair made her harsh features more intimidating.

“Don’t scream,” she ordered. Long snowy fangs glinted from between her shiny metallic purple-glossed lips. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be.”

“I thought ... Your mother told me ...” Confusion and fear made Tynan stumble over her words.

“Just between the two of us,” Gianneth said, “I have a remarkable ability to conceal my presence, as well as project sending the way a ventriloquist does his voice. Quirk of genetics.” She shrugged. “Anyway, right now, for all intents and purposes, I’m the best friend you’ve got.”

Tynan retreated a step. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m your liberator, sugar pants. Mind and body.”

“Faelen will-”

“-have his hands full for quite a bit,” Gianneth finished for her. “I’m done with Blade. He’s served his purpose and I set him up to be killed by your keeper.”

Despite her alarm, Tynan experienced a stab of indignation. “He’s not my keeper.”

“Cut the shit, girlie. With me and most of all yourself. He’s all but pissed on you to mark his territory.”

That sliced straight to the bone. She’d thought the same thing herself too many times. Turning to go, she replied, “This discussion is finished.”

In a blink, the vampiress appeared between her and the door. Her pale bluish lavender eyes flashed. Something there, the sunny-sky shade or perhaps the feral intensity sent a cold thrill of terror through her. A cry for help lodged brick-like in her throat.

“Do you think you’re the first?” Gianneth demanded in a nasty drawl. “He’s taken in dozens.”

Ilsa’s elegant image burned bright in her mind’s eye. “Let him protect you.” “-he defends with the dedication of an Autherian knight.” The beautiful woman’s words haunted her. “Whatever.” She attempted to sidestep.

Gianneth intercepted. “That girl I sent - Jenny. He took her in, too. Didn’t he?”

Tynan’s head spun. She felt dizzy and almost sick. Beneath her grasping hand, the solid back of a chair lent stability. “She needed help.”

A guttural laugh. “You naive child. Do not tell me you believe he loves you.”

Tynan’s mental Rolodex flipped like wildfire. It recalled every casual comment, each heated pledge. Even so, she realized Faelen had never actually said, “I love you.” Only my fated, my only, or my love. “I believe him.”

“Of course you do. He’s a prime piece of hot ass. Who wouldn’t want to believe?” The lanky vampiress sauntered back to the window. As the sheer drapes whipped in, she inhaled an audible breath. “Way I see it, we have a common cause.”

Against her better judgment, Tynan asked, “What?”

“Your liberation.”

“I’m free.”

Gianneth smirked. “Wise up. Can you even name the last time you had freedom? He’s manipulated and seduced you into slavery since he met you.”

A horrible sinking feeling struck her. She knew it. She’d even begun to accept it. “Omigod.”

The vampiress smiled. “Now you see. We’re allies. I’ll help you escape.”

A thousand tangled emotions swept her. She didn’t know who to trust. With some effort, she skirted the chair and took a seat. In all the wild events and discoveries, she’d never doubted how he felt. Now her eyes seemed to have opened, and she didn’t like what she saw.

“I should tell you,” Gianneth began, “he’s going to whisk you off to his friend Kai’s private island.”

“Where?” Tynan asked. Dazed. Scattered.

“The Pacific. Somewhere near Hawaii. It’s beautiful and impregnable.” She grinned, displayed dagger-like teeth. “Almost.”

“I have a real problem trusting you.”

“Did he trust you with your next destination?”

Tynan answered, “No.”

Gianneth laughed. “Of course not. You’re a new toy; not an equal.”

Tynan wished she could shoot back a cutting response. Her heart ached. In her mind, she replayed Faelen’s words. “I have been, as you said, lord and master, too long to change overnight.”

“I’ll leave tonight,” she declared, heartsick. “Hop a plane to San Fran.”

An awful chuckle came from the vampiress. Those disturbing eyes flashed with ugly enjoyment. “Oh yes. He’ll just let you go. No concern for face or reputation. Never mind his pride.”

A harsh sense of desperation cut her. “He would follow.”

Gianneth stalked back to stand afront her. “He’ll hunt you, sweet cheeks.” With one sharp-nailed finger, she tweaked Tynan’s chin. The skin stung where it scraped. “You wouldn’t make it to the airport.”

Tynan’s thoughts raced wildly. “Why would you help me?”

“You’re only a means to an end. I hate Faelen. Anything to give him a bad day makes me happy.”

“I don’t want him hurt. I just want to go.”

“You don’t know enough about him to want to protect him. The way he looks down his fine nose at me, all the while calling that monster, Shang, his friend, sickens me. Ask him who Shang really is. Ask your noble lover how many humans he’s suspended for his use.” Her voice dropped lower. “Has he asked you yet? Did he tell you what he can do for you?”

Tynan knew her expression gave her away. “Yes.”

“What a good deal for him. Keep you young and fresh until he tires of your lovely soft skin and sweet body.”

She felt dizzy again. “I can’t decide right now.”

“The second night you’re on Kai’s little island paradise, you’ll have to choose. One of the security men who patrol the shore will help you if you go to the south beach, between one and four. He’s already hidden a flashlight for you there, under the cluster of palms that grow close to the surf.. You flip it on and off twice. He’ll pick you up and bring you to me. I’ll smuggle you stateside.”

“How could I possibly trust you?” Tynan wondered aloud.

“Choose the lesser evil, darling,” Gianneth stated in an unfeeling tone. “Me as an escort or Faelen as your sexual jailor. Think fast and keep your pretty mouth shut. You’ve got about forty-eight hours to decide.”