VESSA
Already, I find myself breathing easier, rolling my window down to take in the smell of fresh ocean air coming off the wharf. Seagulls dive along the docks, swiping any fish scraps they can find. For a misty Saturday morning, the streets of downtown Tukkon are packed with shoppers and diners. Nell parks her sedan around the corner from Totem Square, the focal point of the shopping district.
As we approach the massive thirty-foot poles, I find myself immediately drawn to the indigenous art and its origins. On the eight poles surrounding the perimeter, I note colorful faces of salmon, wolves, ravens, and men. An illustrated heritage of those who first claimed this fishing town as home.
“These totems were commissioned by the previous mayor of Tukkon, who belonged to one of four remaining human indigenous clans along Aurora’s Belt," she explains. "Our current mayor is the nephew of Kismet, Chief of the Tilaak people. They are like a second family to us. And like you, they have the gift of second sight.”
"Do they live here in town?"
"The mayor does. Kismet lives on a compound along the edge of the bay. On the foothills of Malabaht, the largest mountain ofTukkon,” she clarifies. “Apart from catering to the tourists the ships bring in, their way of life hasn’t been interfered with much over the centuries. The Skornokovy peace treaty intends to keep it that way."
Nell unfolds a burlap shopping bag and leads me into the local market. As I trail her, I can't help but gaze once again at the daunting black face of the raven carved into the cedar beam. Its expression signifies a cry for war.
“The Tilaak see this world for what it truly is. That’s why maintaining the treaty is so vital. This town—their livelihood—has been vulnerable since the vampires first sought them out two hundred years back. A great deal of the Norgsik pack died fighting them off. Unfortunately, the Alpha of Bleeding Sun at the time cared very little for humans and chose not to come to their aid. Refusing to be a bystander any longer, the first Aleksandr Skornokovy challenged him and rallied the pack to join forces with the Norgsik. Thus began the first of many battles in this region. The Blood Master is a busy man; for every vamp we slaughter, two more come back in its place.”
Indeed, he is. Given that he’s been cut off from the origin of his power for three millennia, he relies on feeding from oracles to sustain his strength. Generating new minions can expend a great deal of it, so Maurleen says. Her blood alone could hold him over for a decade. But the life of an oracle is nothing compared to what awaits his claim in Somnium: immortality.
The more history I gather, the deeper the Skornokovy’s vendetta against my betrothed runs, making this situation all the more treacherous. I have no doubt the Blood Master will be furious to learn one of his first-generation progenies was shot down in pursuit of me. Once I was compelled, she came frighteningly close to succeeding.
“Don’t get me wrong, vampires are clever hunters,” Nell continues, roaming past a pyramid of shiny tomatoes. “Theymay have the advantage of speed, but if we get our jaws around them, it’s game over.”
I follow her as we turn the corner. She makes towards the meat counter, occupied by a pudgy native Tukkonian with a full head of white hair. He gives her a friendly wave.
An eerie thought sends a rippling chill down my spine. How long had the silver-haired woman been searching for me? Was she there the night Lyndi helped us escape? Was she the one waiting at the hospital the night Mom died?
The familiar ache surges through me, the loss that for so long has felt insurmountable. I close my eyes, thinking back to the weeks before my mother's death. Driving to rehearsals and reciting lines in the car with her. Feeling her hand on my back, guiding me through a familiar series of deep breaths to soothe my stage fright. Looking for her face in the crowd, noting her exuberant pride.
You never needed a stage to be captivating, little star.
A stab in my heart stunts that train of thought. I wait until the deli associate hands Nell our paper-wrapped order before voicing the real question that’s been brewing in my mind. “What do vampires have to gain by attacking lycans?”
“First-generation vamps? Not much beyond furthering a conflict that has spanned for centuries,” she states. “But the Blood Master has improved his handiwork over the years, creating new hybrids. The newest kind has a unique craving for lycan blood, though human blood suffices. Enough lycan blood in their system can produce a surge of strength and euphoria.”
Any appetite I had for lunch dies right then.
“It’s some crazy, unstable shit.” She shudders. “Makes for the ultimate predator.”
Slicing through a thick yellow onion,I’m fighting tears when Nell buts in. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re injured!”
She and I switch spots at the kitchen counter, finishing chopping before swiftly redirecting her attention to the pot on the stove. Rather than uselessly stare down at my bandaged hand, I browse through a cupboard filled to the brim with spices. I smile when my fingers brush against thyme and just next to it, dill, the two herbs that were favorites in my mother’s arsenal. Nell’s controlled chaos reminds me of her, a woman so enamored with food, zest, and life.
At five o’clock, Jabir strolls in. It doesn't take highly trained canine ears to detect his stomach growling at the scent of sizzling chicken and olives that Nell is sautéing. He mutters something that sounds shamefully erotic in his native tongue and bends over to nip his mate on the neck, nuzzling her with his tightly clipped beard. Her hair ripples as she whirls to wave him off. I stifle a snicker, curious as to what he might've said to make such a deep crimson spread across her cheeks.
Jabir groans, his handsome features twisting in pain. "I just spent the last four hours hunched over a computer. Please,lehrohina,I'm starving."
"Starving for attention by the sound of it," she counters, continuing to rhythmically stir.
Jabir shakes his head and when Nell isn't looking, he pops a cherry tomato into his mouth. I scurry over to dump the minced onions into the skillet, sprinkling crushed red pepper to enhance the sizzling juices.
"What did you call her a moment ago?"
“Lehrohina. It means 'my soul,"' he answers. “Back in Marsda, it is a term often substituted formate. I find the Agathoran term not so endearing."
Jabir takes a seat and rolls up the sleeves of his thick red flannel. "Had I not met your mate, Vessa, I never would've found mine on the other side of the world in this dreary place."
Nell rolls her eyes.
"She is the sunshine that warms the earth and makes these lands tolerable for a man who spent most of his life in the desert."
