DeVante's Coven (15 page)

“Okay, okay.” He knew exactly what happened. He addressed the woman, “Lily?”
Can you hear me in your head?

She nodded.

Well shit. His fledgling had made a fledgling. He was in deep fucking shit. He couldn’t be responsible for them both on his own. Continue plan A. Go home to DeVante. Shit. Shit. Double shit.

Chapter 17



How to come home again

The night crept in on slippered feet, sun sinking silently over the pacific. But silent only for the best sound-proofing money could buy.

A sense of dread immediately settled on DeVante’s chest, and he knew his firstborn had returned.

The world outside was boisterous nearly beyond immortal endurance, even here on the outskirts. Not only for the obvious cacophony of horns blaring and sirens wailing, but also the not-so-obvious buzz of tires on road surfaces, the monotony of waves pounding the shore that he could hear even from this distance. The first evening he woke here he was certain he could not survive in this place.

The incessant mental jabbering of Trina quieted. He had grown so used to her, a casual friend with a mothering instinct to make sure they were all comfortable. The sound of her was undeniably missing.

He rose from the bedclothes slowly, feeling every joint like an old man. Perhaps he should return to St. Paul, he thought, without ever knowing why Roderick had returned, or why Trina was silent.

But no. He would face it all. He would never allow himself to be a coward.

He would go to his house in the city, the house that had so easily become Daniel’s house, the place where everything happened. All the answers would be waiting there.

He did not hurry. There was no point. All that was done was done.

Daniel’s Place. How the concept came to be, DeVante was unsure. Mortals gathered around Daniel as if they were planets and he the sun, drawn by an irresistible love for DeVante’s youngest fledgling—the pull of a twisted pied piper—and then they stayed. And invited others. And before DeVante had even realized it was happening, a flock was ever gathered at Daniel’s door, soon flowing past the door and lounging in the living room, some of them moved in permanently.

All were safe beneath Daniel’s roof. That was the creed, the code of honor—come in, be safe. DeVante showed up and walked through every few days. He found himself wary of some of them, indifferent to most. And Trina was there more and more, enjoying the youngsters, mothering them, cleaning up after them. Making them comfortable, for certain. And talking. Always talking, analyzing, giving advice. She seemed more confident these days, and certainly smiled more.

DeVante arrived there now, and passed through the door to stand still in the foyer.

Laughter broke off, sentences died on the lips of their speakers, bottles of beer paused in their inevitable rise to lips. The only sound was that of a woman weeping.

Not a one of them recognized who or what he was, yet all recognized that he was the alpha male.

His eyes grazed past thick muscles, shaved heads, jewelry. Rested upon Roderick in the living room, crouched over the form that emitted the soft cries. She was not Trina.

Through the kitchen and into her suite. Trina’s rooms. Her clothes were laid out on the bed, a flower patterned cotton sundress. Sandals. Her terrycloth robe, stolen from the exclusive ‘Palms’ resort, lay in a white heap on the burgundy carpet.

He found her in the bath.

The water was cold, her face serene.

Oblivious of propriety, he stepped into the water fully clothed. Wrapped his arms around her cold naked body and gathered her close. She deserved this, a moment of quiet cherishing, she who had been a loyal friend, a mother hen who steadfastly refused to see anything awry here in this house.

DeVante knew not how long he remained thus, holding her, allowing his memory to run its course like a motion picture, holding her every word dear, despite that she had given him millions of words. She had been soft-spoken but never silent. If her mouth wasn’t rambling, her thoughts were. He had stolen little sips of blood from her often, and because of this her thoughts had been clear to him and he’d had to purposefully tune her out. He was suddenly struck with the realization that her background chatter was so much a part of his being alive that its absence was almost maddening.

Should he locate her family? Did they deserve even to know she was gone from this earth? They may have been good to her, they may not have. He had never asked.

Silence. He stared at them one by one. A young female mortal he had never seen before dropped to her hands and knees and crawled to DeVante’s feet to lay a cheek on top of a wet shoe. “I do not know, but I am most sorry.” Her voice quivered.

DeVante crouched and laid his hands on her head. “You are absolved.”

He addressed the room again. “When do you expect Daniel to return?” His question was met by silence, mouths clamped shut, heads shaking slowly. They never knew when Daniel would come or go. DeVante knew Daniel was at a club, courting Reed. He supposed he could call him home, but then what did he expect Daniel to do, suffer or be punished because Roderick was out of control? That would not be right. Roderick was not Daniel’s responsibility.

He let his eyes fall on Roderick. “Do you understand, my son, that Daniel’s place has been defiled?” Then he spoke directly into Roderick’s head.
A member of our household lies dead in this house, and that is unforgivable.

The entire room seemed to hold its breath, as if they all knew death had come to this place.

And finally a rising wail of terror and despair. It came from a frail black-haired female behind Roderick. “Oh, oh, oh Tony, what have you done to me? What have you done?” It became a wordless desperate keening, filling the room and making both mortal and immortal hands rise to cover ears.

“Enough!” DeVante’s sharp command brought silence again. “Roderick—you and those you bring with you—come upstairs to my room. The rest of you,” he waved an arm in a gesture he knew was imperious. “Carry on.”

Upstairs he shut the door and stared at the little group. Roderick, looking sheepish and slightly forlorn, wearing tight leather pants and a red blousy shirt with the sheen of satin. And a boy younger than Daniel—wearing the same sort of pants, and a black leather vest draped casually over his naked upper body. He was slim and brown-skinned, black eyes flashing and perfectly able to meet DeVante’s angry glare. He was Vampire. If he had not been, DeVante’s anger would have flung him against the wall. As it was, DeVante could see the boy fighting to hold his ground, spine stiff and muscles tense. “Don’t hurt her,” the boy said. “She didn’t mean to do it. She couldn’t help it.”

The words directed DeVante’s eyes to the girl behind them, the girl in the white dress and bare feet who stood so hunched she was almost bent at the waist, hands over her mouth, eyes glued to her own naked toes.

“Look at me, girl.”

She raised lovely slanted blue eyes to meet his. “She didn’t suffer,” the girl whispered. “I swear to you she didn’t. I didn’t mean to kill her. Oh, I never meant that.”

DeVante did not know what to say. She, too, was Vampire. He could not absolve her. He released her from his gaze and caught Roderick. “Introduce me to your friends, Fledgling-Mine,” he commanded. The pain in his breast was already lessening. Like physical wounds, immortality had a way of healing emotional wounds as well. The truly dead remain dead. There was nothing he could do now for Trina. He would go on as he always did. As he had to.

“Um,” Roderick was saying. “Meet Tony, my, ah, I guess you could say my fledgling. And Lily… umm. His.” His eyes lifted from his shoes to show DeVante the misery in his face.

DeVante waited.

There was silence.

“Are you going to introduce me to them?’ he finally queried, as Roderick’s hands rose to fight with the stone ankh cross on a black cord that hung around his neck.

“Oh, yes, that.” He waved a hand in DeVante’s direction. “DeVante, my… Master.” The last was a mumble.

DeVante sighed. “Ah, what that admission always costs you, Fledgling-Mine, though I do not know why. It is clear that I am Master—that you come to me makes it clear.”

“You will tell me this story, Roderick, of your fledgling and your fledgling’s fledgling. And then you will be punished for bringing death to Daniel’s house.”

Roderick’s head snapped up in shock.

The woman, Lily, thrust herself in front of Roderick. The two of them spoke in unison, “Punished?”

“Oh yes,” DeVante said, forcing the anger out of his tone. “You will be punished. You must be—if only for the sake of them, out there,” he nodded at the door. “Violence here must have consequences. You cannot be excepted. Were any of you human I would simply banish you, but as you are vampires, as Roderick is mine, punishment must be given.”

“I will bear the punishment.” Lily’s voice rose up strong, resolute. “Whatever it may be, I will bear it gladly.”

DeVante sized her up. She was very beautiful. And there was a gentleness about her that made it difficult to believe she had killed Trina. “Come here,” he said.

“No!” Now it was Roderick and Tony who spoke at the same time.

DeVante held up a hand to quiet them. “I will certainly not harm her.”

She approached him and dropped to her knees at his feet saying, “Master,” very softly as if she were testing the feel of the word in her mouth.

He took her left wrist and raised it to his lips while pulling her to her feet. He traced her soft skin with his mouth and let his fangs slide into the vein. He read her past, her grief, her terror of the future. And the lingering, final taste of Trina.

Lily swooned and he knelt to hold her for a brief moment, until Tony rushed to gather her in his arms.

“She could not endure punishment,” DeVante said. “She endures enough. The master is responsible for the fledgling. Roderick is accountable for you both. He shall take punishment for this death.”

“What sort of punishment?” asked Roderick.

“The suitable sort for one who has violated sacred ground, my sacred ground, and… Daniel’s. You will obey and bear it, Fledgling-Mine. But let us first escort Tony and Lily to a room they can call their own. And then you and I will ‘rap,’ as these young ones are want to say.”

***

So he would suffer something to appease DeVante. What a lovely surprise. Why he always expected open arms whenever he slunk back to his Maker, Roderick would never understand. DeVante always had to judge Roderick’s own lack of judgment first, make him pay, make him beg, before he offered the… love? blood?... that Roderick craved. Roderick supposed this reunion would not be so different than the last. Once he submitted to DeVante’s will, cried some, groveled some, he would be back in his Master’s good graces. Then soon to suffocate and leave again.

DeVante first led them to a bedroom and left Tony and Lily behind. Both were pale and eager for solitude.

DeVante led the way then back to his own rooms. “The master suite are the only rooms here that remain mine,” he offered, though Roderick knew he felt no need to explain anything. Roderick thought DeVante was actually telling him something about Daniel with that statement. That the boy had grown up? “I am not sure exactly what you have done, Roderick, but I could feel you panic every time I looked at your new boy. Sit down. Tell me what is it that has you all aquiver with fear.”

Roderick shrugged and sat on the bed. Sighed and stood up. Started to pace. “I don’t even want to tell you.” He stopped walking then, turned to DeVante, and heard the plea in his own voice. “I can’t even explain what came over me, DeVante, why I had to change him, why I had to at least try. He’d been injured, I was just going to finish him off, take the last bit of blood from his poor, battered body, and help him on his way. That’s all. I swear it.”

“You always have good intentions, Roderick. Always. And yet here you are, your last fledgling still in
my
nest, a child who will never grow to adulthood. And this, this Tony, I suspect is younger still. Out with it, Roderick, give up your secrets. Explain to me how Tony and Lily came to be Vampire.”

Roderick recounted the events as he knew them with great drama. The stinking alley, the van, Tony hardly more than a corpse at his feet.

DeVante waited, silent, while Roderick walked circles around the room, knowing he had to talk, spill all the strange things about Tony. And ultimately wasn’t that why he had come? He stopped before DeVante and looked him in the eye.