Microsoft Word - 1606017438-Of-Night-and-Desire-Bailey.doc (17 page)

Valya grinned at her murmur of glee, sensing her delight at the scents of caramel, sugar, and apples.

“Would you care for one?”

“Yes, please. It smells so wonderful.”

He laughed at the excitement and enthusiasm in her voice. “Wait here for me.” He disengaged her arm and headed over to the stand.

Richelle looked around at the different attractions, idly stroking the fur of her new wolf. She couldn’t help herself, she couldn’t stop smiling. The

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emotions were so overwhelming, but in a good way. She never imagined it could be like this. To be in a crowd of people and still feel like they were the only two people on earth.

But they weren’t alone. Richelle heard something.

At first it sounded like a bee buzzing, but then she heard the soft murmuring.

“Richelle, come to me.”

She looked about, trying to get a bead on where the voice was coming from.

“Richelle, come to me.”

The voice was husky, cracked. She didn’t recognize it, but it became clearer as it called to her. It was an old woman.

“Richelle, come to me. I have a gift.”

She looked to the left and there, just off the midway, was a solitary tent.

It was dark with navy blue curtains decorated with stars and moons. She walked toward the tent, drawn by an inexplicable sense of urgency, but she couldn’t separate if it was her feelings or those of the old woman beckoning her.

The noise of the carnival drifted away like an old memory until only the tent remained. She parted the curtains and stepped inside. The smell of patchouli and sandalwood filled her senses as her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, illuminated only by a few candles lit on the table. Sitting at the table was an old woman dressed in green and purple with gold coins adorning her clothes. Her hair was silvery-white, and her voice aged, indicating that she was very old, but her skin was unmarred by any lines or blemish, smooth and untainted like fine porcelain.

But most startling were her eyes…sapphire blue, bright and shimmering like jewels. They held a fire deep within their depths, but looked upon her softly. She motioned to the chair opposite where she sat, and Richelle accepted the offer. As she sat down, she noticed there was not a sound to be heard. There was no noise from the carnival outside and no noise inside. She saw chimes hanging, swaying, but they did not ring. Absolute silence.

“Welcome to my home, Richelle.” Her voice, despite the faint Slavic accent and husky cracking, was melodious to Richelle, like a grandmother speaking to a child.

“How do you know my name?”

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The woman chuckled softly. “There are a great many things I know.”

She struck a match and slowly lit a pillar candle in front of her, illuminating her face and giving the illusion of serenity and wisdom. “There are many things you need to know.” She casually placed the snuffed match in a copper censor to her left.

Richelle watched the old woman’s calculated movements as she blessed the table with burning incense and chanted a quiet incantation over the pillar candle.

“I am Madame Selene.”

Richelle was fascinated by Madame Selene’s hand motions, the way they swayed as if she were dancing to music despite the fact that she didn’t rise from her chair. The whole scene was surreal. Atop the table were the tools of the craft arranged similar to an altar, but not quite. A silver chalice, an athame, a mortar and pestle, and a cauldron all circled a tarot deck.

Madame Selene picked up the tarot deck and began to shuffle the cards.

There was a strange image of a pentagram with a circle on a mottled background of black, blue, purple, and green. It was mesmerizing watching Madame Selene handle the cards. The images seemingly pulsed with life as the colors swirled rhythmically. It was spellbinding.

Meticulously, Madame Selene laid the cards out before her three in a row—the Empress, the King of Pentacles, and the two of cups. She studied the cards for a moment and then looked up at Richelle.

“We have waited a long time for your arrival, my child.”

“You have?” Richelle asked, her brow furrowing.

“Oh yes. Your coming was foretold long ago.” She picked up the cards on the table and added them to the deck. She held out the cards for Richelle to take, which she did, clasping them between her hands.

A plethora of questions ran through her mind as the cards grew warm in her hands.
Who
are you? What am I to become? Why am I here? Why did
my mother and Duncan have to die? Who are these crazy
people following
me? Why does the Evil One haunt my dreams?
Will I ever be safe? Know
life? Know love?
As her mind burned with all her queries, Richelle noticed that her hands were becoming increasingly warmer, the cards seemingly drawing energy from her until they were almost too hot to handle.

The seer held out her hand for the cards. As Richelle handed them back and looked at her hands, she could swear she saw the strange image from the

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tarot cards engraved into her palms, very light, similar to a henna tattoo, but definitely there. And then it disappeared before her eyes.

“So many questions for one so young. And so many that you know the answers for but are unwilling to accept.”

“How do you know my questions? I haven’t asked anything yet.”

The old woman chortled lightheartedly, amused at Richelle’s responses.

“You have the heart of a child who has ridden a unicorn, but the doubtful nature of an adult who will not believe unless you ride the unicorn yourself.” She began to lay the cards out in a pattern on the table. First one, and then another lying sideways across the first. One to the left, one to the right. One above and one below. And then she placed three face down beneath the pattern.

“Who I am is of no concern. Who you are to become is up to you. You are here to fulfill the prophecy. It is your destiny. And Adelaide and Duncan died because that was
their
destiny.”

Richelle swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. She had not wanted to believe her mother’s death and Duncan’s were preordained. She believed one’s path in life was determined by one’s choices. But there were a finite number of choices in each decision, which led to other paths, which led to other paths.

But ultimately, no one was beyond the reach of the Tapestry of Life the Fates wove. Death was a bitter fact of life. It could not be avoided. It could be rejected and delayed, but in the end, it all fell on the Circle of Life.

Her eyes became misty as she thought of her mother and Duncan. She had never mourned the passing of either. She loved them both so dearly, and yet she had never truly grieved for them. Instead, she spent her energy on the unfairness of their needless deaths, her emptiness at being left alone, her vow to live in solitude so no one would get hurt because of her…so she would never know such hurt again. Selfish castigation. Never once did she celebrate their lives, the joy they brought to her life or the sacrifices they made for her.

As if sensing her self-reproach, Madame Selene patted her hand and smiled ruefully, her eyes reflecting the wisdom that came with age and the empathy of one who had suffered much pain and sorrow in her life. Richelle sniffed as she wiped her eyes.

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“All my life I have been told about this so-called
prophecy,
but no one will tell me what it is. What is this prophecy and what does it have to do with me?”

Madame Selene’s smile fell, and she became somber. She spoke in a hush, as if the walls of her tents had ears.

“Long ago when the mountains were young, mortals and Immortals shared the land. A village at the base of their mountain became aware of the nature of the Immortals, of their great power and their need for blood, and they feared the Immortals even though no one from their village had ever been attacked or injured by one. The villagers raised crops, raised livestock, and raised families. They lived in fear the Immortals one day would destroy their village.”

Richelle stared at the crystal ball sitting upon the pedestal as it began to glow. An iridescent mist filled the orb, and figures appeared in the shimmering haze.

“But their fear was misdirected towards the Immortals. There
were
evils threatening their lives, but they came from outside their peaceful mountain home, evils in the shape of both man and beast.”

Richelle watched silently as violent images appeared in the crystal—

raiders pillaging hapless villages, women tortured and raped, men and children murdered. Mythical demons she had seen only in children’s fairy tales descended upon villages and utterly destroyed them. Horrified, she stuffed a fist into her mouth to muffle her scream of repugnance and to drive down the nausea churning her stomach.

“The Elders of the village, in the hope of saving their people, went to the Immortals and implored for their protection. The Immortals knew well how the humans feared them. The humans were distrustful and suspicious, even of their own kind, let alone a powerful race such as Immortals. The Great One, leader of the Immortals, saw this as an opportunity to bridge the gap between their two peoples and show the humans they had nothing to fear from them.”

Richelle gasped at the image of The Great One. He was strikingly handsome, with long, flowing silver hair and silvery eyes. He was an imposing image and was unquestionably the most handsome man she had ever seen…aside from Valya. He shook hands with a portly man, no doubt an elder from the village.

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“From that day, the Immortals became the protectors of mankind. They used their strength, wisdom, and powers to protect the humans of the mountain from evil.”

The images in the crystal ball showed Guardians such as Valya fighting off armies of invaders as well as demon spawn, driving them from their mountain home. Richelle gasped as she saw a familiar face in the battle.

Valya, a much younger, leaner version but still her Valya. She watched in schoolgirl admiration as he battled fiercely against the marauders despite his young age in comparison to his comrades.

As the images faded and turned to fog, Richelle leaned forward and touched the crystal with her hands, willing the pictures to return. She felt the seer’s hand cover hers, drawing her attention from the absent images.

Richelle met Madame Selene’s compassionate expression. She settled back into her chair as Madame Selene pulled a slim black cigarette from her cloak and lit it from the burning candle.

After a long inhale, she blew out a stream of smoke that hovered over the table like a halo. Cloves. Richelle smelled the distinct odor of cloves.

The scent was both invigorating, yet calming as Madame Selene continued, her somber expression foretelling the appalling change in the history of Valya’s people.

“For many centuries, the pact between man and Immortals was upheld, and there was peace in the mountains. Humans lived their lives in peace with no fear, believing the word of an Immortal to be unbreakable.”

She paused again to take several draws from her cigarette. The smoke lingered, creating a mimicked image from the tarot cards, the same image Richelle had thought she saw burned into her palm.

“Time passed. And as the destiny of all things, with the passage of time came change.”

Shimmering again, the mist of the crystal ball faded to reveal two men, apparently Immortals based upon their size and features, arguing with each other. One was The Great One. The other was a young blond. Although he was as handsome as any other of his race, she sensed there was inexplicably something sinister about him.

“Though a proud and honorable race, Immortals were not immune to the temptation of evil or to the lures of the seven deadly sins. There were those

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who sought only to fulfill their basest needs and desires, thereby desecrating the pact made by The Great One with the humans.”

Images of deceit and betrayal appeared in the mist, of humans fighting in vain against ostracized Immortals. She stared aghast at the level of malicious cruelty they inflicted as the weak were tortured and murdered.

The sheer barbarism as they fed and enslaved the minds of their victims appalled her.

“They believed humans were nothing more than chattel to serve their needs. As those corrupted blatantly exhibited their power and enslavement of those they were bound by oath to protect, humans began to hide in distrust and fear of all Immortals. Over time, the humans came up with a new word to call those who had fallen and preyed on the helpless, consuming their blood and destroying their souls. Vampyre.”

Madame Selene became silent as the images faded and the crystal ball became dark. Richelle sat back in her chair, not realizing that she had been so intent in viewing the images that she was all but standing atop the table.

She rubbed her eyes, sore from staring unblinking at ghostly images from the past.

As Madame Selene took the last draw from her cigarette and snuffed it on a brass plate to her right, her expression softened. Richelle could swear there was a twinkle in her eyes. Madame Selene reached over and took Richelle’s hands, squeezing them reassuringly before lifting her hand to stroke a few stray tendrils from Richelle’s cheek.

“And now the time for change has come. It has taken many centuries, but with your arrival, the prophecy can be fulfilled.”

“Madame Selene, all my life I have been told about being part of some prophecy,” Richelle stated calmly. She reached up and pressed the old seer’s hand against her cheek, seeking some small measure of comfort. “Please, Madame, won’t you please tell me why I have been hunted? What is this prophecy?”

Richelle’s hand hovered in midair as Madame Selene pulled her hand away to place it on the table, almost touching the tarot cards lying before her.

“Among the Vampyres, there was a very powerful Immortal called Luka cel Rau, who was particularly cruel. When Immortals first started to protect mortals, he took great delight in openly defying The Great One. He was