Immortal Heat (The Guardians of Dacia Book 1) (7 page)

She knew asking for internet connection to contact her mother via social media or email was useless. If the old woman didn't have electricity, she sure as hell didn't have wireless connection.

"I don't believe in the work of aghiută." She spat on the floor. "The devil, he make man lazy and tame."

Nonni could read her thoughts?

"Yes. Did Draylon not tell you of my gifts? I am strega…a witch."

"I never believed in it—other than following ancient teachings. It was always referred to as a derogatory term."

Nonni looked confused for a moment as the words seemed unfamiliar. "Ah! A bad name." She nodded. "I've been called all things. No one bothers me. I keep to myself."

Placing the pot of tea on the table, she sat in the chair on the end, nearest the kitchen hearth. Marilyn took the initiative to pour the steaming brew into their delicate cups. She smiled. The china appeared out of place in such a rustic setting. But the aroma of sweet rooibos and honey made all of Marilyn's cares vanish.

"Drink. You like." Nonni motioned for her to drink.

They sipped in silence for a few moments, letting the flowery taste of the tea seep into their blood stream and warm them internally. Hints of orange and cinnamon blended with the honey. For the time being, Marilyn didn't have a care. The aches in her muscles dispersed and the warmth of the tea, the aroma of the burning firewood, it all settled into her soul, warming it from the inside. Still, the unknown fear lingered of what was outside that heavy door.

"There is no need to fear. Draylon will protect you with his life."

Accepting the fact Nonni would read her thoughts, the difficult part would be controlling them. "Why? I don't even know him. And since we've been together he's tried to abduct me, we've been chased by vampires and threatened to be made into one. I think I was safer before we met."

"He was sent to protect you at all cost."

"I don't need a bodyguard…or at least I didn't think I needed one. I came to Romania for research. Mr. Vamier offered me the opportunity to be his personal assistant this semester."

Nonni shook her head. "He is not to be trusted. He is bad. He will not lead you to the truth. He is only after what you have."

Marilyn snorted. Like Daniel? Her mother had set her up with a congressman's son. He was always polite around her mother, well-mannered, loving, sweet and attentive. She should have listened to Tina when her friend told her there was something about him she didn't like.

Their relationship was hot and cold to begin. He'd managed to convince her to transfer from Hood College down to Towson to be near him. She did so just to get out from under her mother's thumb. But she'd never seen him in his natural habitat before arriving on campus. He liked to party, skipped classes and expected her to bail him out when he was either too drunk or needed a paper done overnight.

He only showed affection around their friends and family—until their last night together. She never did tell her mother the truth. Marilyn shivered as a chill shot down her spine and disgust curled her lip.

She tried to focus on Nonni and the conversation.

"…he not good for you." Nonni spat at the floor. "You need better. Draylon is a good man. He protect you."

"Why?" Marilyn looked up at Nonni whose small beady eyes glowed with knowledge.

"Because it is meant to be."

"Really? I don't think so. I'm not here for a man, Nonni. I'm here to find myself."

Nonni sat back and sighed, nodding in understanding. "There was a woman I knew once, she wanted same thing. She left her home far, far away and came to a strange land to see what it might be like away from home. She fell in love while finding her way—only it wasn't the right way—she'd chosen the wrong way. Not only did it affect her life but those of a whole race of people…and Zmei."

"Z-what?"

Nonni cackled. "Zmei. Ah…you have not heard, and yet you have the very emblem of their kind."

Marilyn thought about her medallion. "The wolf or the serpent?"

The old woman's eyes rounded. "Oh no. So much more than a bălaur or hound! They shift-shapes…"

"They're 'shape-shifters'?" Marilyn corrected in awe.

"Yes…yes. Bălaur is their true shape but not always so. They fly and are much powerful, sometimes turning into fire to slip into a young woman's room, turning
musat
, handsome…oh so handsome, as a man and to seduce her to become his mate."

"They are evil then."

"Eh," Nonni struggled for the right term, "misunderstood."

"So you are telling me these
Zmei
exist?"

"Once a long time ago. Now, all gone…except one."

Marilyn sat forward, the steam from her cup of tea warming her face. This was like some of the fantastical stories she'd read in her father's papers. Fascinated, she wanted more.

"He lives still. But he is so very old. His home is all but forgotten by time, but it still is a sacred place in the high mountains of the Suhard Massif."

"What happened to them? Why is there only one left?"

Nonni sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. When she opened them there was a far-away look about her.

Anxious to hear more, Marilyn pushed her cup to the side so she wouldn't spill it in her excitement. She loved stories like this. History and folklore went hand in hand. If she had more information about the tales then she'd have a better understanding of the mystical people her father wrote about in his papers.

"A long time ago, back before the Romans came, the Dacian were a warrior race of people. We battled against all foe who dared to cross our rivers. The Danube was a boundary to many tribes from other countries. Our forests, so dark and full of wild and mystical beings, no one dared to enter.

"Every battle we fought was beside our brethren Zmei—the creatures the gods had gifted to our people for protection. In exchange for the Zmei help they requested one young maiden every decade for their token bride. The women were of special birth, prepared and blessed to take on the role when the time came. An honor, a true calling, something the Dacian celebrated."

Nonni got up from her chair. Her head bowed and weary, she shuffled slowly into the kitchen. Pouring golden meal into a large, black pot hanging from an iron rod in the fireplace she stirred in a pitcher of cream.

Don't stop.

"You are hungry. You need to eat. I make mămăligă."

Marilyn wasn't hungry, not for food. She wanted more details. She hated movie sequels because she didn't like to wait to find out the next chapter in the story. And she had no idea what mămăligă was. But Nonni wasn't one to be rushed.

She drank her tea and poured herself another cup. Nonni had only taken a few sips, so she left hers alone. The howling of wind rattled the windowpanes in the kitchen and whistled through the cracks around the door.

"Ah…ală works his magic, too. He's the beast who brings the viscol—winterstorms." She stirred the bubbling pot. "Do you hear his cries? Not to worry, he won't get in."

"But Draylon and the other men are out there. Aren't you worried about them?"

Nonni waved her hand. "They are fine. They go to their watering holes to drink and raise a fuss. They are good boys, though."

Worried, Marilyn didn't want to put up with more guys who partied and drank. She had a feeling it was a male norm though. She'd have to deal with it again, sooner or later.

She watched as Nonni ladled out thick gruel into their bowls and placed sliced bread onto a board. Getting up, she went to help the tiny woman bring the simple fare to the table. Sniffing the bowls, she realized it was corn meal mush. Her nanny, Francis, used to make it.

A jar of honey and maple syrup was placed before her, along with whipped honey butter. Her stomach growled.

"See, you are hungry! Two days sick in bed with nothing but broth—you must eat."

"I've been here two days?"

"Much fever and tired."

Two days? She'd lost so much time and what did her mother think? She must be going out of her mind! The one person who didn't want her to leave was now without a clue where her daughter was. That made two of them.
She
didn't know where she was. She figured she was still in Romania though.

Delving into her sweetened cereal, she cleaned the bowl in little time. Nonni filled it again, her toothless smile happy. Marilyn slathered a thick slice of crusty bread with butter and honey while she waited for Nonni's return to the table.

"So tell me more about the Zmei."

"Oh yes! Where was I?"

"Women were trained to be wives of the Zmei…"

Nodding, Nonni picked up the story. "As I said, very honorable to be chosen as a Zmei mate. Until the young lady who'd left home had been chosen and rebelled. She'd fallen in love with another who was of good birth—but not good. He was false."

"So they married instead?"

"No. She was forced to marry the Zmeu. He was kind and treated her well as all Zmei did. She was the honored one. She loved him and honored her Zmei mate, but she always wondered about her lost love. He promised he'd come for her."

"But he didn't? Did he?"

"Oh yes, he came for her—along with hundreds of men he'd gathered. But it wasn't for her alone…it was for power and glory. His troops rushed into the Zmei fortress and slaughtered every one of them, taking the woman with him as his own. Devastated at seeing such a massacre—on her behalf—she cried for days. When the Dacian tribes found out about the Zmei, they shouted to the gods to curse the evil ones. The gods heard and instead of cursing just the couple—they were so angry that their gift of the precious Zmei had been destroyed, they cursed all the clans."

"Oh no."

"It was terrible. They were no longer to be warriors but hunters, hunters of the night. The Dacian baier of the Zmei and the Wolf was broken—the talisman separated forever by their betrayal. The Dacians would become wolves and live off of the land as beasts of the night. The goddess of fertility—she turned the Dacian—sterp, barren, infertile.

The men who killed the Zmei were to become another entity all together. They were cursed by the sun god, Derzelas, and would die if they were to try to live in his light. The goddess of the hunt cursed them with never finding nourishment in the flesh of beast—only the blood of man. And the goddess of fertility she cursed them severely—they could only create more of their kind by exchange of blood for blood…at the victim's request."

"Wait, you said that there was one Zmeu left though. Where did he go?" Marilyn sat on the edge of the bench, waiting to hear more. If what Nonni told her was real then could the medallion hold some truth? Even folklore and legend held kernels of fact in them.

"So eager you are." Nonni cleared the used dishes. Marilyn went to help her, afraid she'd do something else and not tell her the rest, but the old woman continued, "There is one. Only because of a kind young prophet who went to pray over the desecrated Zmei. He found one, still alive, barely breathing. He'd turned into a human to protect the mate of the Zmei leader, but in doing so, received a nearly fatal wound. The prophet took him to his teacher, the god known as Zamolxis, and worked to heal the last of the Zmei.

The gods looked on the young prophet favorably for his kindness. They blessed him with the ability to one day mate and produce an offspring, when the time was right."

"So this Zmeu is immortal? Was he cursed?"

The wizened woman smiled. "Zmei are immortal to begin with. The Zmeu curses himself. He desires to find a mate who will accept him for what he is."

She felt sorry for the creature. Thousands of years and no real companionship. He was stuck up in a mountain like some mythical Sasquatch, biding his time.

Marilyn couldn't help but think on the whole story. So much folklore and mysticism. Did she believe any of it? She carefully dried the dishes as Nonni washed. The old woman seemed to believe. She was strega. Witches were those who believed in the past, using it to guide them. As she hung up the dishtowel, the door burst open on a gust of wind and men.

"Nonni, get Marilyn packed up. We need to leave, now."

"What's going on, Draylon?" Marilyn went to his side. The other two men were busy packing up what they could find for comfort and security. She remembered them naked the other night. But now they all looked as they were nearly torn to shreds.

"You all bleed. Sit, Nonni take care of you." The old woman hustled around for herbs and dressings.

"There isn't time, Nonni. We need to get you out of here," Therron commanded.

Marilyn noticed blood caked and some dripping from Draylon's head. She went to touch it and he grabbed her hand. "We don't have time. The Vamiers are on their way."

Ren checked a shotgun for ammunition. "They invaded the Wolves Den looking for you. When they saw Draylon, they knew you couldn't be far away."

"I'll get packed." Marilyn scurried to her room and collected her things. The suitcase would be too much of a hassle if they had to walk. She took out the knapsack she'd stowed away for mountain hiking and packed it with essential clothing and supplies. Checking the inner most pocket of her suitcase, she found the medallion. Securing it inside the vintage handkerchief Nonni had wrapped it in, she placed the medallion in the secret zippered pocket where it wouldn't be damaged or lost. All was good.