Moon Child (4 page)

“Oh dear.” She lifted her shoulders and dropped them with a tiny huff. “I only saw him in a vision. I don’t know what any of it meant but that I have to find him. It’s important to find him before… I just don’t know.”

Unbelievable
. “Are all pythia visions so ridiculously vague?”

She only smiled, showing pretty white teeth. He looked away, out the large sliding door that lead to a private patio with a dining set. It was sunny now, but everything was wet from the early morning downpour. The temperature dropped too with the quick cold front, making the day feel like the fall days he was used to at home. Real home in Maryland, not Japan. He may have been part Japanese but that place would never be his home.

“Say I help you find this impossible-to-find person.” He tossed back the rest of the drink and Silas walked towards him with the bottle and a full glass. The glass went to Chrysanthe in passing. The elf stopped in front of Tristan and offered to pour from the bottle. He considered the elf a moment and then took the bottle to pour himself. “What’s in it for me?” he asked when the guy was out of his line of view with the pythia.

“We help you find Ash.
Alive
.”

Tristan put down the bottle and narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s an awfully big promise for someone who doesn’t seem to know a whole lot.”

The pythia straightened her back, shoulders rolling back. “I have full confidence.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, wondering how much he should be drinking and then decided it didn’t really matter. He was a world champion drinker. He knew now that it had to do with his vampiric genetics, whatever they were.

“What makes you think I’m the one to help you?”

The pythia pointed at him. “You bare those and yet, you won. Or I’m assuming you won since you’re still here.” She turned to look at the other man. “Oh dear, this isn’t a dream, is it, Silas? Not sure I’m up to banishing a shinigami…”

The man only gave her a little grunt, might have been a laugh.

Tristan looked down to his bare stomach. There was a great big circle of scar tissue where a vampire had tried to dig right through him. His legs were speckled with a few places where jikininki bit him and his right forearm had a long, thick scar under a tattoo where he was opened up nearly to the bone not that long ago. Sure, he’d survived those, but only just and at great peril. Since then, he’d had training and while he was still very green and fresh to it all, he was a natural fighter with good instincts. Armed or not, he felt confident going head to head with a vampire and coming out mostly alive. Mostly alive was what counted right?

Tristan looked up, took another drink and then, staring right into Chrysanthe’s eyes said, “Then that means time is of the essence.”

She cracked a tiny smile. “Absolutely.”

He pursed his lips, staring down at his drink for moment and then sighed, shutting his eyes and muttered, “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.” He opened them again and met the petite woman’s excited gaze. “Where do we start?”

TRISTAN?” It was barely a whisper. There was a panic in her that couldn’t be expressed, not when she felt so weak, but it didn’t diminish that fear any less. Calling upon her higher seikonō powers when she was still trying to heal from her ordeal with Lucien was a damn stupid call, one that might have gotten Tristan killed.

Ash felt the presence of another, but couldn’t focus clearly enough to identify them. They hadn’t noticed Ash’s arousal as they continued to pace bare feet over hard earth. Her eyes hurt to open. Her head hurt in a way that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. And inside her, she could feel the weight of the earth all around her, could taste it in her sinuses. She was underground, but more than that, she couldn’t say just yet. “Wh—where is this?”

The one who’d been pacing stopped. “Asta!”

She let out a sigh of relief and slowly forced her eyes open. “Vasco.” But for how long?

“
Meu estrella
!” He cried out again and ran to her. Ash smiled at the nickname he’d given her so long ago,
my star
, as he took her into his arms and gave her a big squeeze. She winced, trying not to. Even with her healing powers, she was feeling a little haggard. Genoveva had a wild time beating on her after she surrendered. She hated to leave Tristan behind but it was to save his life… from her. Then again, that was assuming her rashly stupid need to pull a seikonō hadn’t gotten him killed with falling rock. Damn, she never should have left his fate up to Genoveva.

“I—I don’t know what happened,” Vasco said. “I was sitting at an outdoor café trying to have a light meal while I waited for the opera to open and then, I was just here.”

“Oh Vasco…” She’d tried many times in the past to explain to him what he was, but the dear man was confused as ever. He had no idea he was a vampire that shared his body with another, vicious, personality that very much liked being a killer.

“We—we’re underground?” the frightened man said, hugging himself, looking up. His Catalan accent was so thick he was almost hard to understand. The cavern they were in was dark but there was a hint of light coming from the right. Long stalactites hung from the ceiling, some long enough to nearly touch—perhaps if one were a bit taller, like Tristan.

Ash’s jaw tightened as the sudden swell of pressure behind her eyes threatened to make her lose her composure. “It seems so.”

She was starting to have an idea of where, but couldn’t be sure since it’d been decades since she’d last explored her homelands. One thing was for sure, they had to find a safe place to hide within the next fifteen minutes or risk a very dangerous situation when a tour inevitably came through during the long daylight hours. But that led to another problem. Ash had to get as far away from Vasco as possible before Genoveva came out again and took over. She had to make sure Tristan was safe and get herself armed. She was too weak to face such and adversary head-on in her current condition.

“But how? I was… this isn’t France.”

Ash frowned. “France?”

“Yes I—I was in Tokyo. No, more south, Akita? Maybe—”

Ash stiffened. He’d been in Akita? So close to her and Tristan, and she had no idea. Damn that Yukihime for not warning them, for surely the old bat knew of everyone who was in her territory.

“I was admiring the old architecture and wildlife when quite suddenly I had this overwhelming urge to see the opera. What better place than Palais Garnier? So I went to Paris and I was sitting outside waiting for the show time to come up and… I… I looked up and saw a face in the crowd.” He looked Ash in the eyes. “It was you. And you weren’t alone, two men with dark hair, one very tall, the other short. And then… I was here?”

Still looking around, trying to gather her bearings, she frowned, realizing what’d happened. Genoveva pushed Vasco into going into Japan, the subtle subconscious hints. The sudden urge to see the opera was Genoveva again, her malevolent will leaking on his to follow the couple to France. And when Vasco looked up and saw Ash in the flesh, Genoveva took over in full once again.

“Alepotrypa,” she whispered and then said louder, “No, Vlichada.
We’re in a cave in Dirou.” The smell, the very feel of the earth, its life, she had no doubt. The room she shared with Tristan in Karavostasi was less than four miles north on the coast, nine by car. If she could just get away from this place she could be holding her katana in mere minutes. Better yet, she could be holding Tristan.

“Oh good, you know where we are.”

“Yes but…” Daylight wasn’t far off. She’d had to explain to Vasco many times in the past, gently as if speaking to a child, that the sun was harmful and would force him to sleep and if he was in it, die. But not really understanding his hungers and needs, Vasco was hard to make understand anything that had to do with his higher nature. And at the moment, he was volatile—more than usual. At any moment Genoveva might return and subdue Ash again. She hated to abandon Vasco to the depths of Hades, as the cave had been fabled to be, but it was too risky to stay with him right then. She loved him dearly, as a close friend. But what was more important to her right then, her loyalty or her life? Hell, her life meant nothing anymore if Tristan was dead. She had to get out of here, now.

“Meu estrella?” he said gently, moving closer to her, trying to understand her expression.

He was still wearing Tristan’s blood, a splash of it across his forehead where he’d gone after the unconscious Uruwashi before Ash had managed to convince Genoveva to leave him alive. She just hoped the treacherous woman actually agreed to the deal. Her life for his. The older vampire was mad but could think with a frightening clarity at times.

Ash shut her eyes, lamenting her choices and the inevitable decision. It was just as well that Vasco couldn’t hear her thoughts as he should have—perhaps something in him just shut all his higher functions down, leaving him a mere human. As her elder and of her very bloodline, the vampire should have had immense control over Ash’s telepathic abilities to the point of nearly controlling her very will as Malik could. Vasco had no idea this was even a possibility and Genoveva was too erratic with her seikonō to gather the focus for such a thing. Didn’t mean the older vampire, nearly six hundred years her senior, wasn’t powerful in her own right. The fact that Genoveva managed to mask her presence from both her and Tristan was hugely telling in a depressing, worrisome way. The ancient vampire was troubling in many ways.

Knowing what she must do, Ash opened her eyes again. “I’m so very sorry, my dear friend.”

“Meu estrella?” he asked, looking alarmed at the sudden malevolent intentions he was feeling from Ash.

“Please forgive me,” she whispered before she lunged for him.

3:
S
chism

SURE, he’d agreed to help but his number one priority was to find Ash. That didn’t seem to jell with Ms. Hoity Toity Accent and her mute elf companion.

“Oh dear, Tristan, you really must keep up—you’re making us late!”

“Just keep your panties on, lady, god.”

Chrysanthe stopped and spun to face him, the higher ground giving her the illusion of being taller despite being nearly two feet shorter than him. She put her hands on her hips and gave a sassy little huff to go with the sassy little pose. “I don’t wear knickers.”

Silas made a noise but dipped his head to hide his face deep in his hoodie before the others could see his cheeks turn red at the thought that he had firsthand knowledge of the nature of her “knickers”. Or lack thereof.

Tristan jerked to a stop and blinked up at her. “Wow. Okay…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Whatever the pythia did to him, gave to him while he’d been passed out those few hours seemed to help with the pain in his head a lot. But it didn’t help mask his growing exhaustion as they were encroaching on his normal sleeping hours. It was still fairly early into his normal sleep time, but any longer and he was going to start feeling some serious lag. You know, with a concussion on top of that. At least his feet didn’t hurt anymore and the nice new boots they’d given him were heaven.

“I’m just trying to understand what’s happening,” Tristan said.

“Finding that man.”

He sighed again. That’s all she kept saying ever since he agreed to help. After a quick shower and a check over from the pythia on his quickly healing wounds, the group set out in Tristan’s rental car. A ten minute trip took them to the other side of the coast directly west into Vathi and from there another few minutes into Gytheio. He questioned her over and over again about where they were going, but all she’d say was “Finding that man”.

He wanted to grab her and shake the shit out of her. Maybe all pythia were vague but he couldn’t help but hold deep reservations. He was never really the quick-to-trust type and his recent interactions with Yuki had made him even more sensitive than before. So why hadn’t he just told the couple to go fuck themselves already? Something inside him was telling him to stick with them and see how things played out. Maybe there was a such thing as fate after all?

“Look. You’ve got to give me something here or I’m walking. I have to find my girlfriend before—”

“Girlfriend!” Chrysanthe gave a chirpy little laugh. “Good heavens, how marvelous. I should have guessed, well I did guess. Such a thing, an Uruwashi and a vampire in love. Bards will be singing of your union for centuries to come.”

He only stared at her, deep scowl etched into his forehead.

“Oh dear, don’t be so grumpy. You’re too serious, anyone ever tell you that?”

No, actually. “You’re too carefree.”

She put her hands behind her back, leaning forward just a bit and nodded before spinning away to take big, leg-stretched marching steps. “Optimistic. Just like I know you’ll find our mystery man and your darling love and we’ll all live happily ever after…
ish
.”

Tristan glanced over at Silas who’d kept a tight pace with him ever since setting out of the car. The elf didn’t turn his head as he returned a glance. There was that hand again on the hilt. Funny that no one balked at the huge sword on his hip.

“Tell me, have you two…” She giggled and looked back. “
Consummated
yet?”

Tristan’s ire rose. “Not very shy, is she?” he muttered to the man who was disturbingly taller than him. Silas didn’t even bother to give him a glance again. He was too busy hoping the others didn’t notice the dark blush. But Chrysanthe didn’t need to see his face to know how red he was. He always was sensitive.

To the pythia Tristan said, “What, you don’t have enough action going on yourself? Gotta butt into mine?”

“Oh dear, your relationship is a very interesting one. I can’t speak for
everyone
, but I’m
very
curious. Sure, there’s been tales of the Uruwashi and vampire...
mixing
, but it’s always purely carnal. They were meant to be together as much as they were meant to kill one another. The fact that your relationship is built on love instead of sex, as I can assume from your reaction, is very, very interesting indeed. You and Ash are enigmas.”

He just harrumphed at her. But agreed. They were meant to rip each other’s hearts out, not cherish them.

Her cheery expression thinned out into a frown as she rooted around in her skirts. She looked like she was just playing with herself until she pulled out a cell phone. “Chrysanthe,” she said by way of answer. She did some humming and nodding, and then spoke a bit of Greek and hung up. With a sour, pointed look at Tristan she said, “He says we’re late.”

“Who the fuck is
he
and where are we going?”

Chrysanthe pointed a thin finger across the way. At first Tristan thought she was pointing to the little café across the way but then he realized the much more dominate thing in the background was where she was really pointing. It was a huge fucking ship.

“No,” he snapped. “I can’t leave, are you crazy?” He was hoping they’d be going to Ash’s old house first. He needed to know that she wasn’t really there. Not that he could remember any good place for her to hide from the sun with half the building crumbled. But if she were, he could—in theory—scoop her up in a blanket and run off far away before that other one awoke for the night. Shit, if he found Genoveva too, he could end it all with a very sharp stick... maybe a little bit of fire, just to make sure. No more near-death experiences for him today, thank you very much.

“Oh dear, we’re not leaving Greece. Just think of it as a day trip.”

“No, no fucking way.” Tristan spun to leave but stopped short. He hated that he had to look up to meet the other man’s eyes. “Move.”

Silas only glared at him behind his sunglasses, sharp brows over the lenses arched in annoyance.

For January and despite the early morning rain and cold front, the afternoon was warm—far warmer than Tristan was used to this time of year and because of the heat, he couldn’t wear his jacket. Instead of hiding his gun in the jacket he couldn’t wear, Tristan had to settle for shoving it down the back of his pants like some sort of hood. He reached for it, but hesitated to draw it just yet. One, it was the middle of the afternoon with a lot of pedestrian traffic; tourists by the looks of it. And two, this guy was only an elf and hadn’t threatened mortal danger to Tristan or any other human. It wasn’t in Tristan’s code to kill him. Then again, wounding wasn’t the same as killing…

“I won’t say it again.”

The taller man stared him down for another moment before taking in a sharp breath and moving aside. Tristan, having expected just the opposite, let out his own held breath in a little sigh he couldn’t mask. With a dirty look, he stepped around the elf to go back the way they came. Where the others went was up to them, but he had to get back to that house and find Ash.

“What if I could tell you something you don’t know!” the pythia called out, sounding desperate and a little scared. That was her first fault, showing how much she needed him.

“Don’t care.”

“What if I told you it was about Ash?”

Tristan stopped and wished he hadn’t. He thought for a moment with his back to the others before finally saying, “Whatever it is you think you know, you’re wrong. And I don’t care.” Now, that wasn’t true. He did care when it came to Ash. But he also already knew there was a lot of things he didn’t know when it came to her. What could this stranger possibly say that would matter in grand scheme of things? He trusted Ash to tell him everything… eventually.

Tristan’d taken a step when the pythia’s distressed voice called out again, “You don’t care that she’s been lying to you?”

He harrumphed at her, not bothering to look back.

The pythia made a tiny frantic noise born of aggravation and blurted, “She has her memories back!”

That made Tristan stop and turn. “What do you mean, she has her memories back?”

“The ones taken from her? I don’t know who or when, but I do know she was given them back.”

Tristan narrowed his eyes at the small woman, stomping up to her. “Bullshit.”

“Oh dear.” She looked worried and confused, unsure of herself.

“No,” Tristan snapped, still unable to believe it. He never said anything, but he had felt like Yuki had been in their room when he awoke in France. More like a dream. Maybe it wasn’t made up in his head after all. “If that were true, Ash would have said something.” Then again…

Chrysanthe frowned deeply up at Silas. Her ever loyal companion shrugged in return.

“No,” Tristan said again, shaking his head. “I won’t let you do this.”

“Oh dear, do what?”

“Try to pit me against Ash so I’ll help you without distractions.” The problem was, it would work. He was a confident man until it came to Ash. She had this way with the truth that he couldn’t ever fully trust. God he loved her, so damn much, and that’s what made his doubts about Ash’s honesty even harder to accept. It was naïve of him, but he had to trust her. He held onto that belief and was constantly disappointed by it.

“Oh dear,” Chrysanthe sighed. “It’s nothing like that.” She twisted her mouth as she thought for a moment and then huffed. “Very well, I hadn’t wished it to come to this…”

The only reason Tristan didn’t step away from her when she came up to him was that she didn’t frighten him. That was the wrong answer. All she did was put a hand on his left arm just above the cast, skin to skin, and say a few words in foreign language. Tristan screamed and his knees gave out. He fell right there in the middle of the street. Others were watching now as Tristan gasped and moaned out his pain.

Chrysanthe jumped back when Tristan dropped, eyes wide in what could only be attributed to surprise. She exchanged a look with Silas before shaking herself off and stepped close to loom over the American. “I need you to help us, do you understand? And you need your wrist in top shape. Go with us, help us with this tiny task and we will see to it that your wrist is properly cared for. And we’ll come back for your lady love and find her, together.”

“The… the fuck did you do to me?” It felt like his wrist was broken and worse. He couldn’t even remember when he broke his leg it hurting
this
bad. It was almost as if she placed a spell on him to add more pain. He didn’t doubt they, the pythia, could do such a thing, not that he really knew the full extent of their abilities.

She straightened, crossing her arms over her chest. “When I said that you’d have full use of your wrist I meant it, but not with my magic alone. Across the way, just on Crete is a man far more powerful than I. He will fix your wrist and tell you how we can find the man I seek. But you are part of this. You
must
go with us.”

Tristan doubled into himself for a moment, hiding his face, to think. He was ready to kill these two and leave if that’s what it took to find Ash. “Why should I trust you now?”

“Oh dear, you shouldn’t. But you have my word that I will see to it you’re fixed and well… if you help us. Equivalent exchange.”

God, the pain. He’d really rather just be on his own, fix his own wrist and find Ash, alone, but somehow he knew it wouldn’t be so simple. Not now.

“Make it quick or I’ll kill you both.”

Chrysanthe’s frown turned into a big grin. “Of course you will. Come.”

Before Tristan knew what was happening, Silas had bent down and lifted him to his feet, his arm securely flung over Silas’ neck. The man was warm—no, hot. Burning up. It was uncomfortable just being next to him, none less touching. But Tristan couldn’t even argue, the pain was so bad, shooting out of his wrist, up his arm and into his chest to pool into his belly. He could hardly breathe past the agony, forget walking on his own. 

Silent, the group shuffled off down the street and onto a boat that was decorated very obviously for tourists. Silas found them a quiet place where not too many people would notice them and stare. When Tristan’d gotten as comfortable as he could being in such incredible pain, he asked, “What’d you do to me?”

Chrysanthe bit into her lip before answering. “Revoked a spell I’d cast on you while you were passed out.”

“A pain relief spell.”

She looked at him, wondering how he knew that. “Of the sort, yes.”

He gave a pained little laugh. “Thought so.” While the pain in his wrist, arm and upper chest was even worse than the pain of having that Russian vampire who tried to dig right through his middle, it waned at times. It waned and ebbed just like that nasty, gritty spell Ash had him swallow down before assaulting Malik. And without Ash having later explaining it to him, he knew that the way the pain worsened before it lessened in a constant flow was not how the spell should have worked. Again, there was that word to describe him: Special.

“What else?” he grunted.