Authors: Unknown
Yara burst into laughter, and Joel followed suit. It warmed her heart to see Sam and Hikuro – water and wine – doing their little dance. Even Dyam, who was usually the voice of reason, joined in.
“Hi,” a soft voice brought Yara back to the present.
Yara looked up to find two beautiful red heads smiling at them.
“Deidre! Drew! How are you?”
“We’re fine,” the twin dracos replied in unison.
“You look great,” Joel drawled, already giving up his seat to them. Typical.
Yara hadn’t seen the twins since their ordeal in New York, almost a year ago. It was because of Deidre’s kidnapping that Zoricah had been forced to seek Tardieh’s help, and the rest was history.
“The party is great, the food divine,” Drew exclaimed to Yara and Sam.
“Yeah, congratulations for pulling it off,” Dee added.
Yara smiled and was about to share how “easy” the entire journey had been when Joel cut her off.
“Yes, congratulations indeed,” he said, then wrapped his arms around the twins. “Have you seen the magic they did to the library?”
Deidre cocked a conspiring eyebrow at Drew, who just giggled in reply.
Yara shook her head, as they all watched Joel sway away with the twins in tow.
“Yep, typical,” Dyam declared.
“Oh, it’s starting,” Sam called their attention, pointing at the stage.
Wyvern, the draconian senator, climbed the short steps and took the stand. His tall, lean figure cast a soothing veil in the crowd, who quickly went silent. “In this very special evening, history is made. After millennia of enmity, we stand here together to witness the true statement of peace, the vampire king has taken the draconian demigoddess as his eternal mate…”
Blah, blah, blah...If only he knew the true story. Zoricah was the one who did the choosing, Mr. Senator, not the other way around.
Yara’s gaze landed on the happy couple. At that moment, Z leaned over and whispered something into Tardieh’s ear. He pursed his lips tight, but failed to hide the smile that whatever she told him brought to his face.
Yara released a long sigh. She was extremely happy for her friends. She was telling the truth when she told Z she couldn’t have found a better pal to tie the knot with. And Sam, oh sweet little sis Sam had found an amazing guy who loved her more than anything in this world. And that truly made Yara’s heart all warm and fuzzy inside. She was really, really happy for them. So why in Hiad couldn’t she shake off the constant clutching at her heart? The three of them had sworn to stick together – Zoricah, Sam and Yara. They even declared themselves the Pink Musketeers. OK, the lame nickname had come up at the end of a tequila-shots night, none of them actually liked pink, but still, they had vowed never to let anything or anyone come between their friendship. And for decades they had fought side by side, celebrated the wins and mourned the losses together. The three of them. But never in a million years would Yara have foreseen that the one thing missing in their lives would eventually pull them apart.
Love was a possessive bitch sometimes.
Maybe Yara was being too harsh, or selfish. Definitely too selfish, she knew that. Why would Z change just because she was getting married? She’d still fight alongside them, still be the leader of their operations. After all, they weren’t even close to getting to the bottom of who was behind Dr Burvis’ psycho-experiments. By the same token, it didn’t matter that Sam now spent most of her days in Japan with Hikuro, right? Every evening they were back at the mansion, and sat at the same table as Yara, where they chatted about the missions, the wedding plans, and some more about the missions. It didn’t matter that it had been more than three months since she last had a good sister-to-sister chat with Zoricah or Sam. Right?
“Hey,” Dyam whispered behind her. “What’s wrong?”
Yara swallowed dry and realized her eyes had filled up with tears. “Ai, Apa Dobrý, will Wyvern ever stop talking?” she asked lightly, forcing a smile.
“He’s known for his love for long speeches,” he whispered, clearly pretending not to notice she avoided answering his question. Dyam, the vampire gentleman.
She and Dyam hadn’t really hit it off when they first met. It was more like locking horns than locking lips, but after a while, she got used to his unwavering level-headedness. Just like Hikuro, at first glance, one would say Dyam was too serious, but after getting to know him better, she started even spotting the subtle nuances in his composure. At the opposite spectrum, there was Joel. With the face of a supermodel and the body of a wrestler, Joel was the epitome of sexual heat and the walking promise of a great night out. There wasn’t a woman in her right mind who wouldn’t purr over him. If Yara were honest with herself, she’d say that both vampires would be very good contenders to capture her heart
–
they were both very charming and alluring in their own way
–
but for some reason, she only saw them as great friends and fellow fighters who she would happily trust her life with, and not bed material.
Having to stay glued to that chair listening to Wyvern wasn’t doing it for her. She needed air, not
fresh
air, since they were in the garden, but
air-air
, the one that everyone needs once in a while, the one that rhymes with
space
.
“I’ll be right back,” she mumbled, then quickly stood up and walked toward the house. She had taken barely two steps away from the table when a cold hand touched her arm and made her stop. She turned around, startled.
“Hey, are you OK?” Dyam asked. His thumb caressed the delicate skin inside of her forearm.
Yara looked at Dyam and sighed. Ai, Apa Dobrý, why couldn’t she feel anything for that amazing vampire? He was everything a girl could want, right? So why didn’t she?
“I’m fine, Dy,” Yara answered with a small smile. Then she cupped his face tenderly with both hands and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for being such an awesome friend.”
And being the awesome friend he was, he let her go.
She went into the mansion, hoping to find it as empty as church on Super Bowl Sunday, but the hallway was buzzing with servants, going around, getting the last course of the evening ready. She crossed the antechamber and rushed to the bathroom underneath the long stairway. They had nicknamed it the “entertaining restroom” because it looked like it had been made for a country club rather than a private house, with three stalls and a vast sitting area with a comfy couch. She opened the door and peeked inside.
It was empty.
Yes!
She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. When she felt her shoulders relax a bit, she walked to one of the marble basins and took a good look at herself in the mirror. Her deceivingly jumbled up spiky hair was where she had left it, her long dress hugged her figure the way it was supposed to, her chocolate cheeks held an artisan’s makeup, but she didn’t feel beautiful. Not tonight.
Why was she feeling that way? Yara couldn’t understand it. She loved her friends. She loved the fact that they were in love. She loved that they had finally found their other half. So why couldn’t she shake off that sadness in her chest?
Footsteps resounded outside and the doorknob turned.
Oh, come on!
This was supposed to be the hidden restroom no one knew about! She rushed to one of the stalls and locked herself inside. She kept dead silent as high heels stomped in then went into one of the other stalls to the left.
Damned the Soartas!
Yara sat on the toilet cover and sighed. Now she’d have to wait for whoever was there to leave and then resume her self-pity ego-trip.
“Huuuurl!”
Yara jolted upright. She knew that sound very well.
“Huuuurl!”
Mighty Soartas, by the sound of things the woman next door was ejecting her inmã down the toilet!
A cold shiver went down her spine. What if Hurling Mary there was one of the VIP crucifero-bras dignitaries? Did the waiters follow Yara’s orders and served the right lettuce to the right people? Oh, crap.
With dread in her gut, she opened her stall’s door, walked over to the other one and knocked. “Hello, there,” she said softly. “Are you OK?”
She heard a soft gasp, but no actual answer followed.
“Look, it’s OK to drink a bit above the limit sometimes, you don’t have to feel bad about it,” Yara tried, but still no reply. Even the hurling had stopped. “Did you eat something bad?” she tried again.
After a long silence, she bent down on the floor, careful not to ruin her dress, and tried to see the ladies’ shoes. Maybe if she had a good look at them, she’d recognize…
“Holy crap!” she jumped in surprise. “Z? Is that you?”
Chapter Three
Oh, crap. Zoricah closed her eyes and tried to hold the contents of her stomach where they belonged. What in Hiad had she been thinking? Of course Yara would eventually find out that
she
was the lady vomiting her guts out. When she felt that the delicious dinner wasn’t likely to stay put, she excused herself from the party and went inside as fast and as slow as she could. Her first choice had been go to the master suite, away from everyone, but hadn’t made it all the way.
“Damned the Soartas,” she cursed softly, then crawled up and opened the door. “Yeah, honey, it’s me.”
“Ai, Z, what’s wrong?”
“I’m not really sure,” she replied, leaning heavily against the stall’s wall.
Hmm, cold tiles… good.
“You’re white as snow! Come take a seat.”
She let Yara help her walk to the sofa by the window. “I don’t know what took over me.”
“Have you eaten anything bad?” Yara asked then darted to the sink. She lifted a chunk of her dress and turned the tap on it. Then she rushed back to Zoricah’s side. “Here,” she said, motioning for her to rest her head against the cushioned seat. “This should help with the nausea.”
It did. While Yara patted her forehead and neck with the drenched cloth, Zoricah closed her eyes and managed to take a long breath without wanting to throw up.
“Your beautiful dress,” Z murmured, “it’s ruined.”
“Shh, don’t worry, it’s just water.”
Z felt the cloth be removed then heard Yara walk back to the sink and do the same drill again. After the second round of cold-damp-cloth-on-skin, Z started to feel warmth return to her cheeks.
“I don’t like this, Z,” Yara declared in a worried tone that was so unlike her.
“It’s probably just nerves.”
“But you
never
got sick.”
“I never got married either.” Z opened her eyes and meant to prove to her friend that she was okay, but as soon as she lifted her head, it spun around and the nausea returned full force.
Double crap.
Z pushed off the couch and ran to the toilet but at that precise moment the main door was opened, freezing her mid-stride. Fuck.
“Z?” Sam asked alarmed, as soon as she peeked inside the room. She was holding her intimate parts like a kid needing to pee.
Z had to ignore her surprised look; there was no time to explain. She lunged over the toilet seat, and spilled her guts out. Again.
Mighty Soartas! What in Hiad was happening to her?
“What’s wrong?” she heard Sam ask Yara.
“Don’t know, but I don’t like it,” Yara replied.
Zoricah felt cold hands hold her hair and forehead while another wave of nausea made its way into the toilet.
“Did she have the salmon?”
“Huuurl!”
“I don’t think it was the food at the party. She was quite pale before then.”
“Yeah, I remember. Do you think someone tried to poison her?”
“Huuuurl.”
“I hope not, but it’s quite possible.”
“Damn it,” Sam cursed. “Who would want to poison her?”
Yara snorted softly. “Tardieh’s entire nation? Half of the guests in this party? Tardieh is still receiving hate mail every day.”
Z lifted her head and swallowed, testing the waters. “I think I’m OK now.” She wasn’t really but she’d had enough of staring at white ceramic.
“Let’s get you to bed then,” Sam said.
“No!” Z cried, but it came out more like a squeal. “I need to go back to the party.”
“Z, you’re in no condition to go back out there,” Yara said.
“But I must!” Z squeaked again and dragged herself up. “I’m not going to miss my own wedding, come on!”
The three of them had spent so many long days and nights preparing this event, so much effort had gone into it that she refused to let an upset stomach ruin it. At first, she had wanted a small and intimate ceremony, but then Tardieh reminded her that his guest list would turn
intimate
into
overcrowded
. He was the King after all, and all his royal subjects had to be invited. She ended up agreeing to a large party, but she didn’t give up on her ‘non-lavish’ condition. She wanted to show her future nation that there would be no room for pompous ostentations in her reign. And Sam and Yara had done a fantastic job at making this the most elegant and unpretentious party of all times
–
worthy of the front page of any gossip magazine in the supernatural world
–
without extravagance or pompousness.
“Z, we think you may have been poisoned,” Sam said in a somber tone.
“Poisoned? How?”
Her blond friend looked at her Latin friend, then back at Zoricah. Oh-oh, that was not good.
“We haven’t figured it out yet, but it’s very plausible.”
Z shook her head. “Plausible but very unlikely. There’s no way any poison would have managed to get past Arthur’s military scrutiny.”
“When did you start feeling nauseous?” Yara prompted.
Z shrugged. “Don’t know … a couple of days ago.”
“What else are you feeling?” Sam asked. “Do your joints hurt?”
“Nope.”
“Your skin feel like it’s stretched to the limit?”
“By Apa Dobrý, Sam, no.”
“Well, some poisons have other side effects,” she replied. “Maybe it failed to do any major harm but it’s still in your system
–
which could mean that we’re dealing with an amateur who doesn’t know much about dracos.”
“So, you’re saying that a spy managed to crack through Joel’s and Arthur’s security and poison me, but doesn’t know what he’s doing at the same time?” Z asked back.
“Yeah, it doesn’t make much sense, does it?” Sam conceded, wrinkling her nose.
Z lifted her eyes and met Yara’s. Her Brazilian witch friend was watching her like a hawk – or maybe it was the panther inmã inside her.
“This is weird,” she mumbled. “I don’t smell any poison, but I smell something odd on you.”
“What?” Z asked, resting her cheek on the cold toilet seat.
“I can’t put my finger on,” she replied. “Besides, you haven’t been well for the past two days and we didn’t notice.”
Z shrugged. “It’s mostly when I wake up. You girls are still in bed, or in your case, Sam, in Japan.”
Yara and Sam exchanged a knowing look.
“What?” Z asked. She didn’t like knowing looks. “What is it?”
“Z … have you also been feeling overly hungry lately?” Sam asked, obviously tip-toeing around what they really wanted to ask.
“And weird cravings?” Yara added.
Z frowned. “I don’t think so … maybe, but I always get hungry after …Wait, are you implying that I’m …” She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t finish that sentence.
Sam cocked her head sideways. Yara lifted a brow.
“Oh, for crying out loud, I am not pregnant!” Z yelped. “I can’t be pregnant. Tardieh is a vampire and I’m a dragon, remember? We can’t have kids.”
“Well, it happened before,” Yara pondered.
“Yes, it did. Three millennia ago, when all creatures still lived in Apa Sâmbetei,” Z replied, then pushed off of the cold floor and walked to the marble sink. She cupped water in her hands and drank it. It didn’t come back up. Good.
“Z, it’s not impossible,” Sam counter-argued.
“Yes it is.” Z straightened herself up, palm holding her weight on the counter, and gazed at her friends through the mirror. “After the supernatural races were expelled from Apa Sâmbetei, only humans have proven to be able to bear another being’s child and carry out the pregnancy through. That’s why Yerik was trying so hard to impregnate those females last year. He was trying to find a formula to create a cross-breed without the human weaknesses.”
Yara walked over and leaned on the sink beside her. “Ok, that’s true. But you’re not a normal dragon, Z. You’re a demigoddess, daughter of Ucidhere, God of Death and lord of the Land of the Souls.”
“Exactly, God of Death, not Life! Zmyzel is the Goddess of Life and I’m far from being her kin.” She bent down and drank a bit more water from the tap. Not very classy, she knew it, but right now she couldn’t care less.
“But your demigoddess nature must count for something,” Sam pondered.
“Why would it?” Zoricah replied and stood straight … her head spun around and her stomach churned in protest. “Oh, dear Gods, not again.”
In an instant, she felt four hands hold her safe.
“Right, no more party for you, my queen,” Yara joked.
“Let’s get you to the master bedroom,” Sam proposed.
Z could only nod in reply. Damn it! She couldn’t believe this was happening on her wedding night.
They took a few wobbly steps toward the restroom door. Just before Sam opened it, Z stopped. “Girls,” she paused. “Please don’t mention anything to Tardieh.”
“Don’t worry, Z,” Sam replied.
“I don’t want him to think that I could be … you know …”
“Yeah, we do,” Yara added. “Don’t worry, this will be our secret.”
With a huge sigh of relief, Z reached out and opened the door.
A young, well-groomed vampire stood just in front of it.