Her Blood Sings: Episode 01 (3 page)

Darcy leaned back on his chair and looked at
Chris. He looked proud to the point of being smug. “This is an
excellent idea, my boy.”

Elliot huffed in frustration. He was never
called
my boy
or
son
. Only Chris was.

Their conversation shifted to more pleasant
topics, like the training of the new stock. Eventually, Elliot
excused himself, saying he had to get ready to go out. Louisa left
soon after. Chris and Lydia left Darcy's room together. Chris loved
all his siblings, but Lydia was his favorite. Maybe it was because
he had seen her grow up or because she'd always looked at him like
she was so proud of him.

"Look at you,
my boy
." She bounced a
couple of steps, her hands clapping together. "Darcy will appoint
you his heir if we really go into battle. I know he will."

"What makes you think I want that?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Lydia gave him an
are
you crazy?
look.

Chris couldn't really answer that he didn't
see himself as a leader. Instead, he asked "What about you? Don't
you want the job?"

"Nah. Too much work." Lydia called the
elevator. "Besides, Elliot is already a pain in the ass. Can you
imagine him questioning every decision I made? I'd kill him. But he
likes you. He won't question you."

They got in the elevator.

Chris pressed the button to the fifth floor
underground. He noticed the stupid grin on Lydia's face. "You're
way too happy over this." Before she had the chance to fake
innocence, Chris added, "Come on, tell me. What do you have
planned?"

She pretended to be wounded. "Chris, what
makes you think I'd have anything up my sleeve?"

Chris gave her a look.

Lydia's act imploded.

"Ok." She pushed her hair back from her face.
"I have a guest to entertain later.” She grabbed Chris's arm,
practically bouncing. “A werepanther.”

“A werepanther?”

“A very kinky werepanther.” She giggled when
Chris looked disgusted. “Not all of us hate being a vampire,
Chris.”

“What?” he asked. "Have we met before?"

"Don't pretend with me." She rolled her eyes
at him. "You might like some things about being a vamp. But a part
of you still wishes you were with that wife of yours, sharing a
dump with a gazzillion kids and growing old together."

He felt anger burn in his veins. "Oh, really?
What gave that away?"

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open.
They walked down the hall.

“You have a good heart, Chris," Lydia said.
Her smile slipped from her lips. She looked concerned, her face set
in a frown. "You do a pretty good job of pretending to everyone -
even yourself - that you don't, but I know better.”

His anger deflated. Lydia might annoy him
when she got insightful like that, but she loved him. He opened his
mouth to say something stupid and juvenile that would end the
conversation, but Lydia didn't give him a chance.

"You used to play with my dolls and tell me
stories when I was a little girl," she said with a sad smile.
"Elliot never had time for me and Louisa didn't seem to care, but
you never turned away. You told me you had wanted a family with
your wife and-"

"Elizabeth is dead and I'm not," Chris said.
His voice was clipped.

"Chris-"

Lydia raised a hand to touch Chris. He pulled
away.

Her hand dropped at her side. She sighed.

"My life now is here with you and Darcy and
our clan. Like you said, it is what it is."

She slid between Chris and his room's door,
blocking his escape route.

"Don't neglect your good heart, Chris," Lydia
said. "That shit tends to come back to bite you in the ass."

He barked a laugh, trying to hide his
discomfort behind humor. "You're a poet, Lydia."

She tried very hard not to laugh with him. "I
mean it. Do something about it."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know." Lydia waved her hands. "Get a
puppy. Keep a lover on the side for a while. Do something."

"Fix a problem I don't think I have?" Chris
laughed. "Is that what you're saying?"

He moved closer, eager to get into his room
and end this conversation. Lydia didn't leave her spot in front of
his door.

"I'm worried about you, Chris." Her voice was
quiet, small. "I've been worried about you for a while now. I've
seen how you look at mortals when you think no one is looking. Part
of you still wants a family and love and the normal life we can't
have. I'm afraid that with everything that is coming up now, those
feelings will come back to haunt you."

He smiled at her and kissed her forehead.
"Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Lydia had this look on her face, like Chris
had disappointed her. That sent a stab through his unbeating
heart.

She stepped to the side, freeing his path to
his room. "If you say so..."

Chris focused very hard on opening his door
and walking into his suite. He was about to close his door when he
thought of the perfect joke to crack to make Lydia smile. He leaned
into the hallway, ready to call her. Lydia was already gone.

Tamara smoothed her hands over her blouse,
trying to rid herself of any imaginary wrinkle that might be on the
fabric. She glanced at her watch - something she had done several
times in the last couple of hours. She knew it was pointless, but
it was always the same song-and-dance. Every time her Aunt Sandra
and her Uncle Baltus came to visit she’d spend days in nervous
preparation.

Tamara's aunt and uncle were the closest
thing she had to grandparents. Her Aunt Sandra, fresh out of the
academy, had taken in Tamara's mom - barely fifteen at the time -
when their parents had died in a car accident. Ten years later,
Sandra became the proud aunt of a bouncing baby witch - Tamara. She
had never lived farther than a walking distance from Aunt Sandra
and Uncle Baltus. They were the whole reason why she wanted to join
the Intelligence Office, the whole reason why she had jumped to the
opportunity to take this special mission - even though she wasn't
old enough to be a spy.

She had left friends and family back in New
Orleans and come to college in Thunder Bay to keep an eye on the
three earthlings that could cause trouble to the myths in the
future. Operations Three Royals, Aunt Sandra had called it. Tamara
just hadn't expected to really like two of the three royals, Lucy
and Evie. They were innocent, as far as Tamara could tell. They
weren't involved with the Order. Not for the first time, Tamara
wondered what would happen if she came out to her friends. She was
sure they would be fine with her being a witch.

Tamara sighed and shook those ideas out of
her mind. Better focus on things she could do.

She picked up one of the pillows from the
couch and tried to fluff it back to its catalog glory. Tamara's
lips twitched in disapproval when the pillow did nothing but just
look shriveled and sad. She dropped the pillow back on the couch,
hoping it would look better in comparison. Nope! Not better.

Tamara looked over her shoulder, towards the
door. Lucy was due back any moment now. If she was going to do
this, she had to move fast. Tamara sighed, her mind made up.

She pressed her palms on the pillows. What
was the use of being a witch if you couldn't make life easier,
right? She'd fluff the pillows with magic and move on, instead of
worrying about them. Tamara closed her eyes and focused on the
image of the pillows when she had seen them on IKEA's website.
Then, she locked her mind in that image.

She whispered "Fuller."

The key twisted in the keyhole.

Tamara straightened and span around.

Lucy opened the door and walked in.

"What are you doing with that pillow?" Lucy
asked.

Tamara tossed the pillow on the couch and let
out a nervous laugh. "Nothing."

"How long until they arrive?" Lucy asked.

Tamara glanced at her watch again. "They
should be here any minute." She let out a deep sigh. She hated
herself at that moment, but she had a job to do. So, she asked
Lucy, "Your uncle is coming to town, too, right? Tomorrow?"

Lucy smiled, her eyes lighting up. She
nodded.

"I guess it'll be your turn to be nervous,
then," Tamara said. "I'll be nice to you. I promise."

"You better," Lucy said, sticking her tongue
out at Tamara. "I'll make myself scarce. Moonlight tonight,
right?"

"Right."

Lucy smiled. "I'll be in my room."

Tamara glanced over her shoulder at the
pillow she had dumped on the couch. It had perked back to life,
looking like something out of a catalog. She smoothed her hands
over her blouse and jeans. She glanced at her watch and resumed
pacing.

***

Tamara sat on the couch with her aunt and
uncle, who were in the twin armchairs Lucy had bought for their
home at some thrift store.

Uncle Baltus looked relaxed on his chair, his
eyes warm on Tamara's face. Aunt Sandra was looking at everything,
analyzing.

Between them, sat coffee, cream, sugar, a
cake with frothy whipped cream on top of it, and some
delicate-looking finger sandwiches. Tamara had put everything on
display on the coffee table with great care, sure that they would
love the food. She couldn't even look at the food. She was too
nervous to eat anything.

The device Tamara liked to call Nothingness
was spinning right next to the food. The actual name was some
complicated thing in German that Tamara never bothered to learn.
The Nothingness looked like a silver spinning top that moved and
moved without ever stopping. It blocked all sound from coming in
and out of the room. Tamara and her family were safe to talk and no
one would hear them.

Aunt Sandra's eyes sat on a framed picture on
the coffee table: Lucy, Tamara and Evie in their uniforms in front
of the café. It was a picture all three girls had.

"The Murray girl looks pleasant enough," Aunt
Sandra remarked.

"Lucy is great," Tamara said, slightly more
defensive than she needed to be. "Is she really related to Irving
Murray?
The
Irving Murray?"

"She's his niece and the only relative he
maintains weekly contact with." Aunt Sandra sipped her coffee. "Has
she mentioned him?"

"No. Not recently," Tamara lied. "She did say
her father and her uncle had a falling out a few years back and
they don't talk."

"She's lying. We have records of the two
Murray men talking once a year, at least."

"Aunt Sandra, maybe Lucy doesn't know about
it. Have you ever considered that?" Tamara's anger picked up
strength as she went along. "Maybe she doesn't make it her business
to know all about other people's lives."

Aunt Sandra opened her mouth to speak, but
Uncle Baltus spoke first.

"I'm sorry, child." His eyes travelled from
Tamara's angry face to Aunt Sandra's calculating stare. "We haven't
seen each other in a year and the first thing we talk about is your
charge? That's not how family should treat each other." This last
part was spoken to Aunt Sandra, their eyes locked. Then, Uncle
Baltus turned to Tamara, a gentle smile on his lips. "How are you,
Tam? Have you been eating? You look thinner."

Tamara relaxed a little. Still, she couldn't
let it go. "Why do I have to spy on Lucy and Evie? They're good
people. Lucy's a little shallow, maybe... and Evie is always
looking at me like she doesn't fully trust me, but they are good
people. If I talked to them-"

"And break The Rule?" Aunt Sandra's voice was
a horrified whisper. "Reveal to the earthlings our existence? Are
you insane?"

"If Lucy's uncle is this big bad man from the
Order, he has probably told her all about us. And Evie-"

Aunt Sandra interrupted Tamara again. "That's
treason, Tamara. Not only against your fellow witches and your
Queen, but also against all myths. It's a crime automatically
punishable by death. No trial. No room to maneuver."

"But they-"

"If they're not initiated in the Order, we
must presume they're ignorant. They must remain that way until
proven otherwise or our Queen wishes to change that." Her voice
left no room for discussion.

"How do you justify what we do?" Tamara
picked up her cup, her coffee already cold. She put it back on the
coffee table. "We lie to and cheat those closest to us. Doesn't
that go against the law of karmic balance? Doesn't that go against
Maat?"

"We're answering a higher cause." Now it was
Aunt Sandra's turn to get angry. Only family and theology got her
worked up like this. "We're protecting our Queen and our brothers
and sisters of the Witching Realm. That is our mission. Maat-"

Tamara let out a noise halfway between a
snort and a laugh. "The Witching Realm is every single witch alive.
Man, woman, and child, Aunt Sandra. I'd never fight for that many
people. Neither would anyone else I know."

Again, Uncle Baltus intervened before the
family meeting got derailed. "Then don't fight for them, Tamara.
Fight for us and your mother. Fight for those you know."

Tamara leaned back on the couch. The three of
them were deep in thought for a moment.

Then Tamara said, "I'm sorry. But it's
difficult to lie to my friends, to make up excuses. I... I'm not
like you."

To her dread, Tamara felt that nagging doubt
that she wasn't cut out to be a spy tug at her. She tried to push
it away, a wave of shame washing over her.

Uncle Baltus leaned forward and patted Tamara
on her knee. "I know, child. I know."

She gave him a small smile.

"I did lose some weight." She said, answering
his previous question. "I was sick last week. The flu. I didn't
have any of your tonic left..."

Very few things got Uncle Baltus as excited
as sharing old, herbal medicine and the history of their discovery
with Tamara. She watched him as his face lit up and he started
telling her stories. She never once glanced at Aunt Sandra. Tamara
knew her aunt all too well. She could feel Aunt Sandra's
disappointment coming in waves towards her.