New Title 1 (5 page)

Chapter Six

Yara’s magic had worked like a charm. Z was feeling brand new again. Actually, that was exactly what Yara has used
–
ancient magic from her witch people in Brazil. It had been a long time since Z has seen her Latin friend use her native powers. Yes, Yara loved letting the black panther out, but her true magic, her innate powers, no. Well, whatever had come over Z was past tense now. There was no need to trouble Tardieh with it.

She checked herself in the mirror one last time and opened the door which led to the garden. A few of the guests had left and the band was already playing “revival” songs. A drunken guest had taken possession of the microphone and was screaming his way through an Abba song.

“Is that …?” She asked Tardieh, as she claimed her seat next to him.

“Yep, that’s Oberon, the almighty king of the fae people,” Tardieh replied with a short chuckle.

“I can’t believe it,” Zoricah laughed. Oberon’s power was so notorious that it earned him a presence in a famous play by Shakespeare – another fae person humans idolized. Seeing him drunk like a skunk singing “Fernando” was inconceivable, and a bit disturbing.

Tardieh’s cold hands wrapped around the base of her skull and pulled her closer. “I missed you,” he whispered, kissing the sensitive spot behind her earlobe. “Where did you disappear to?”

His cold lips caressed her skin, warming her to the core. “Public display of affection, my king?” she joked and leaned further against him, a silent plea for more.

“Too much bottled blood,” he murmured scraping his fangs down her neck. “I need yours to balance it out.”

“I must be sure to ask Arthur to save some of that blood for later then, if that’s the effect on you …”

It was true. She couldn’t wait for this whole wedding extravaganza to finish. They hadn’t had quality time by themselves ever since they announced their engagement. She was dying to spend the day in Tardieh’s arms without being disturbed by cake makers, dress makers and the lot. She was ready to enjoy the man beside her.

“Excuse us, my king.”

Z smiled and rolled her eyes. So much for no disturbances.

“Wyvern,” Tardieh acknowledged the draconian senator with a nod.

Wyvern was accompanied by two fellow senators – Balaur, the Romanian dragon lord, and Lindworm, the lord of the Scandinavian territories and father of her dear friends, Drew and Deidre.

“We must bid you farewell,” Wyvern stated ceremoniously, but Z noticed a hint of slurring in his speech.

Tardieh stood up. “Thank you, my friend, for gifting us with your presence and your blessing.”

“You delivered a very touching speech,” Z added, also standing up.

“In spite of its length,” Balaur drawled next to Wyvern. The Romanian Lord looked even drunker than his counterpart. His half-mast eyes glistened in the moonlight.

Tardieh smiled. “So I must thank you too, Balaur, for enduring our formal procedures.”

Balaur grunted in reply. “If I earned a dime for every time I was forced to listen to Wyvern’s speeches, I’d be a millionaire.”

“You
are
a millionaire!” Lindworm joked, punching Balaur on the shoulder.

The Romanian Lord, who had already been struggling to stand straight, tumbled forward and would have fallen flat on his chubby face if it weren’t for Wyvern, who was in front of him, and without knowing, blocked his imminent descent to the ground.

Wyvern threw his arm around Tardieh. “You know what, Tardieh?”

“What?”

“You’re OK,” the draco replied, with a face that reminded Zoricah of those American gangster movies.

Tardieh cracked up laughing.

“Who would have thought that the brat would become such a good leader, huh?” Wyvern teased, slapping Tardieh on the back.

“Zoricah, you wouldn’t believe how skinny this bastard was,” Lindworm added pointing at her husband, “but, by Apa Dobrý, he was popular
with the ladies
.”

“Now, I don’t think my queen is interested in this information …” Tardieh replied lightly.

“Oh, but I am,” Z cut him off with a chuckle. “Please, Lindworm, tell me more.”

And that was the cue for a cascade of memories from eons’ past. Zoricah could do nothing but crack up as the old buffoons competed for the prize of the most embarrassing story from Tardieh’s childhood. Her heart swelled. Never in her long life would she have fathomed that one day, Tardieh, the vampire king, would be laughing joyfully with the draconian senators. Fuelled by wine or not, the millennia-old enemies were finally enjoying each other’s company.

Her mind went back to the first time she met Tardieh. They were in the middle of the Great War between dragons and vampires, back in the 1800s. Balaur had kidnapped Tardieh and was using him to force the then-vampire king, Tardieh’s father, to surrender. Back then, Zoricah couldn’t have cared less about the vampires but when she learned about the atrocities committed in the name of her race, her blood boiled. The draconian people were the ones paying the price. Their crops had been either destroyed or used to feed the draconian army. Their prosperous nation was relegated to a horde of starving souls. One night, she found the mutilated body of a young female draco. There were no fang marks on her, but vestiges of draconian mistreatment. Outraged, Z went to the senators, pleading with them to end the war, but her supplications only found deaf ears. They called the young girl’s death “an unfortunate casualty of war.” At that moment, Zoricah decided never to trust politicians again, and took the matters into her own hands. She burst into the prison where Tardieh was being kept and set him free. Little did she know that that decision would seal her fate forever. After that, the draconian senate turned against her, accused her of treason and placed a bounty on her head that lasted centuries. After the war, Tardieh found exile and solace in America, Zoricah found hers in her new mission – to help the ones in need. But the Soartas weren’t finished with them yet, and now, here they were together, laughing at some silly story. Two centuries after almost killing each other. Zoricah felt her reservations against the draconian senators melt at every smile they shared with her new husband.

A lump lodged in her throat and her eyes filled with tears. Holy Apa Dobrý! She shook her head startled. What in Hiad was happening to her? She straightened up her spine and forced her eyes to dry out.

“Well, I must say, Tardieh,” Wyvern chuckled. “I haven’t had such an enjoyable evening in a very long time.”

“Yes,” Lindworm agreed, taking a more serious tone. “Thank you for welcoming us into your home.”

Balaur didn’t say anything.

“I thank you again for blessing our union,” Tardieh replied, “I hope this is the beginning of a prosperous and peaceful era for all our kingdoms.”

As if rehearsed, the two draconian senators went down on their knees and bowed to Tardieh. Balaur took a moment to realize what was happening; when he did, he also went down on his knee, mirroring his fellowmen’s gesture. At the sight of such display of devotion, the remaining guests took the hint and followed suit. 

Z was overwhelmed by the sight of over one hundred people kneeling down to reiterate their blessing on Tardieh’s and Zoricah’s love. She swallowed dry, her chin trembled, and she couldn’t stop a fat tear from rolling down her cheeks. Oh, Gods! There was something really wrong with her! She quickly turned away, trying to hide her ridiculous breakdown from Tardieh and the guests.

“See what you did, my lords?” Tardieh asked lightheartedly. “You brought tears to my queen’s eyes.” His arm wrapped around Zoricah’s waist and pulled her against him. “Now, now, my dear, are these tears of happiness or are you crying because you have finally realized you’re stuck with me forever?”

The guests and servants laughed at his jest. Zoricah wiped the insistent tears off her face and smiled. “No, my King,” she said out loud. “These are tears of anticipation. I can’t wait to show you who the boss really is.”

“There has never been any doubt it is you, my queen,” Oberon shouted from the stage. Someone had thankfully switched off his microphone.

Tardieh threw his head back and laughed out loud. And so did everyone else.

And that brought even more tears to Zoricah’s eyes.

Seriously, she had to get her act together. This vomiting, crying Mary had no place in her life.

**********

Balaur stumbled down the narrow dirt path. Wyvern and Lindworm followed him closely.

“Ouch!” Wyvern cried out behind him.

He turned around and saw that the buffoon had slipped and fallen on his ancient ass. He burst into laughter, and was joined by Lindworm.

“OK, I think we’re far enough now,” Wyvern declared, pushing off the floor. He then took his clothes off without ceremony, bundled them up in his hands. “I’m out of here,” he announced.

“Me too,” Lindworm agreed. “Are you alright to fly away, Balaur?”

Balaur leaned against one of the trees and nodded.

“By Apa Dobrý, I have never seen you so drunk before, my friend,” Lindworm stated with an amused smile on his face.

“Bugger off, worm,” Balaur slurred out.

His friends cackled at his dismal estate, then shifted into their dragons and took off.

As soon as they were up in the air, Balaur straightened his back and pushed off the tree. His earlier lack of balance vanished, his drunkenness already forgotten. No use wasting precious acting with no audience.

He watched as his fellow draconian senators flew away. The moon had hidden behind grey clouds, mirroring his mood. Stupid morons. How pathetic they have looked all cuddly with the vampires, all “we bless your beautiful love.” How dare they? Had they forgotten how much Balaur had lost because of those damned blood suckers? Never, not in a million years, will he acknowledge a marriage between a king and a sujha – the impure product of a summer fuck between the god Ucidhere and a draconian girl. That was unacceptable! And very dangerous precedent for the ruling aristocracy of the supernatural world.

And if those pathetic maggots believed Balaur would swallow that atrocity quietly, they were awfully mistaken.

Chapter Seven

Five chamomile flowers, seven marjoram leaves, ground ginger and a pinch of wild peppermint. Stir until boil. Then add two teaspoons of ox blood and one dehydrated leg of a frog killed on a new moon. The key wasn’t in the potion’s strength; it was in the perfect balance of ingredients.

Yara stirred the thick murky liquid twice to the left then three times to the right, and tasted it. It was almost ready. She heard the toilet being flushed in the servant’s bathroom. A moment later, a very grim-looking Z came into the kitchen aided by Sam.

“I’m serious, I can’t take this anymore,” Z complained weakly.

“It’s almost ready,” Yara said, adding another pinch of peppermint. “The ingredients are a bit too old for my liking, but they’ll do.”

“I don’t care if they have been in the sun for a century, as long as they settle my stomach.”

Sam pulled a chair out and helped Z sit down. “Well, let’s just be grateful that it’s still four in the afternoon and the household is sound asleep.”

It was hard to believe that not even 12 hours ago this very kitchen had been buzzing with servants waiting on guests, preparing the food, keeping the blood at perfect temperature.

“After all the whiskey and bottled blood that was rolling around, I doubt anyone will rise at dusk today,” Z mumbled, then rested her head on the dining table.

Yara hoped Z was right. Vampires didn’t really get drunk, in the traditional sense. They could drink alcohol when diluted in blood, and got quite tipsy sometimes, but never drunk. However, the evening had been very tiring for all of them, entertaining VIP guests was never an easy feat, so hopefully Yara would have a couple of hours to help Z get back in shape before Tardieh woke up. 

When Yara sneaked back at the mansion last night, she found that Z had managed to go back to her party and bid farewell to the remaining guests. But that had definitely taken a toll on her because at 3:30 p.m. she was knocking on Yara’s door for help. So the three of them found their hiding place far from the sleeping vampires – in the servant’s kitchen. While Yara prepared the concoction, Sam tried to help Z on her increasingly regular trips to the toilet.

“Why am I still feeling so sick?” Z moaned.

“The poison theory is not so farfetched now, is it?” Sam joked, as she brushed Z’s temple with a wet cloth.

“I have never heard of a poison that turns you into a sentimental softie,” Yara joked.

“Oh! Don’t remind me of that!” Z cried out and banged her head on the table. “I can’t believe I cried in front of everyone.
I cried!
”

“Hey, at least you didn’t monopolize the microphone and torture the guests with Abba songs,” Sam chuckled remembering Oberon’s little show.

Yara tasted her brew one last time and poured the thick blend into a mug. It was far from perfect, but it would have to do. “Here, drink this,” she ordered Zoricah.

Zoricah lifted her head up and grabbed the mug with shaking hands. She took one sip, then spit the liquid back into the cup. “Yuk! What in Hiad is this?”

“It’s medicine,” Yara replied.

“Do you want to make me sick again?”

“Do you want to spend the rest of your honeymoon throwing up?”

Z glared at Yara. They both knew the answer. Without another word, the queen took a deep breath and took another sip, then another.

“That’s it, do it slowly, but drink it all.” Yara commanded, silently praying for the Soartas to prevent Z’s system from rejecting the potion. Z had looked so pale when she knocked on Yara’s door earlier in the afternoon, green even. Yara had laid Z on her bed and spent almost half an hour working on her energy, calming her inmã. It had worked for three minutes. As soon as Z lifted herself off the bed, she went straight to the bathroom. She called Sam, who had thankfully decided to sleep there and not at Hikuro’s ryokan in Japan, and together they sneaked Z down to the kitchen without anyone noticing.

“What did Hikuro say when you left the bedroom?” Yara asked Sam.

“He mumbled something but didn’t give it a second thought,” Sam replied. “Last night’s formalities really wore him down.”

“That’s the price of being second in command,” Z jested, and took another sip.

Yara’s lips lifted in a small smile. Ai, Apa Dobrý, she’d missed days like these when there were only the three of them talking about nothing. They had become so rare lately.

“Are you guys planning on moving in together? Like, in Japan?” Yara asked, forcing a nonchalant tone.

“I don’t know,” Sam replied with a light shrug, but her ear-to-ear smile did all the answering for her.

“I’m really happy for you, hon,” Yara said. And she truly was.

Z banged the empty cup on the table and made a face. “Oh Mighty Soartas, this was the most horrid drink I’ve ever tasted in my life, Yara.”

“Did you drink it all?”

She wrinkled her nose, but nodded affirmatively. “What was this thing you gave me?”

Yara didn’t answer. “How do you feel?”

Z paused, as if doing an internal checkup. “I feel … fine,” she replied with a stunned face. “By Apa Dobrý, Yara you
are
a witch!” She stood up and walked back and forth. “I can’t believe this, I’m 100 percent!” she cried out, doing laps around the long dining table.

“Don’t push it!” Sam exclaimed. “I’m not holding your head up when you
feel 100 percent
in the toilet.”

“What’s this potion for?” Z asked again, jumping up and down a chair. “I should take it every day!”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Yara leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms over her chest.

Z stopped, wariness sweeping over exhilaration. “Yara, what did you give me?”

Yara looked at her leader in the eye. “A concoction for morning sickness.”

Silence.

“Oh, Mighty Soartas,” Sam gasped, after the coin dropped.

Z plummeted on the chair. Catatonic. “It can’t be … I can’t be ...”

“You are, Z,” Yara said softly, and pulled up a chair to sit next to her. “If you weren’t, my potion wouldn’t have worked so instantly. It’s an old recipe to help your body adjust to the new inmã inside you.”

Z’s throat worked up and down as she blinked a few more times. Yara had never seen her friend so lost before. Z was their leader
–
fearless, powerful, assertive. She was their safe harbor. Seeing her so fragile was somewhat disturbing.

“Do you understand what this means?” Z whispered, wide eyed.

“You’re going to be a mother!” Sam replied cheerfully.

But Z obviously wasn’t ready for celebrations. Confusion mixed with borderline panic was stamped on her face. “Have you ever heard of any creature seeing through a mixed-race pregnancy to full term?”

Sam went somber again.

No, they hadn’t.

“Or worse, have you ever heard of any females who managed to
survive
such pregnancy?” Z choked out.

No, they hadn’t.

Silence descended in the kitchen. Z stood up and walked to the sink. She poured herself a glass of water and drank it solemnly.

Sam got off the chair and went to stand by Z’s side. “It doesn’t matter if we haven’t heard of mixed-race children before; it doesn’t matter if you’re the first dragon who’ll have a vampire kid, because whatever happened to other females doesn’t apply to you, Z. You are a demigoddess and I’m sure your father’s genes will finally come to good use.”

“And I know of a few other potions that will give you the strength to carry it through,” Yara added.

Z rubbed her temples with the base of her hands. “Thanks, girls, I really appreciate your help. Gods only know I’ll need it.” Her words were of relief but her body language showed a completely different story.

Yara pulled Z’s hand and made her sit back on the chair, and worked on the tight muscles on her leader’s upper back. “It will be alright, you’ll see. I’ll teach Sam how to balance your energy, while I’m gone.”

“Gone?” Z turned around startled.

“What do you mean
gone
?” Sam echoed Z’s question.

“If you need potions for every cycle of your pregnancy I’ll need more supplies, and better ones, too. These herbs were much too dry; the ox blood was too old.”

“But where are you getting more ingredients?” Z asked.

Yara exhaled a long breath. “In the Amazon jungle.”

“What?” both her friends exclaimed at the same time.

“But you swore never to go back there,” Sam’s painful expression reflected exactly how Yara felt.

“There’s no other way,” she explained. “The ingredients I’ll need can’t be found anywhere else. Very few people know of them, let alone sell them. I must go back and procure them myself.”

Zoricah placed her warm hand on Yara’s arm. “Yara, I won’t forgive myself for making you go back to the Amazon after everything they did to you there. Please, you don’t have to do this. We’ll find another way.”

“Z, you know there isn’t. You’ll need my potions, believe me. How long does the normal draconian gestation period last?”

“Five to six weeks, more or less,” Z replied grimly.

“And that’s just before you lay the egg. I’ll probably need to make up some sort of special paste to help it develop too,” Yara added, already making a mind note to make a list of all the herbs and roots she’d need.

“Egg?” Sam shrieked. “You …You’ll lay an egg?”

Z shrugged. “I have no idea. This is completely unprecedented. I really don’t know if I’ll carry out a typical draconian pregnancy, eggs and all, or if it will be a vampire one, with over three years of gestation.”

“Three years?” Sam’s jaw dropped to the floor. “Poor vampires.”

“Don’t worry,” Yara reassured her. “I heard only the last trimester is tough.”

“It hasn’t really been a walk in the park,” Z replied.

“And that’s why I must go,” Yara reiterated.

“Are you going somewhere, my lady?”

All three of them snapped their heads toward the service entry. Arthur, the house manager, stood on the threshold.

“Arthur!” Z breathed. “You’re awake.”

“Yes, my queen,” he answered as he entered the kitchen. “I always rise an hour before dusk to get everything ready for the king.”

“Of course, of course,” Z replied absently, then shot Yara an exasperated look.

“Yes, Arthur, I’m going on vacation,” Yara said, feigning a cheerfulness she certainly didn’t feel. “I’m the only single gal left around here. I wanna give these love birds some time out.”

“No problem. I’ll ask my nephew to help you with the packing,” Arthur declared then left the kitchen.

“Where does Tardieh find these super-efficient house managers?” Zoricah whispered angrily. “This is Spain all over again.”

Yara went to the door and peeked to see if he was still in earshot. “Do you think he heard us?”

“Of course he did, he’s a freaking vampire,” Sam replied.

Z shook her head and sighed. “That’s not good. Tardieh cannot find out I’m pregnant.”

“What? Why?” Yara asked.

“We don’t know what will happen yet. Can you imagine how crushed he’ll be if I tell him he’s going to be a father and then have a miscarriage?”

“This is way too big to keep it from him, Z,” Sam pondered. “What if you don’t have a miscarriage and he finds out through Arthur?”

“I’ll see how the week pans out,” Z consented, running a shaky hand through her long hair – a new habit she had definitely picked up from her hubby. “If Yara’s potion really does the trick and I feel the baby will be OK, then I’ll think about breaking the news to him.”

“Z, are you sure?” Yara asked one last time.

“Yes, I am,” Z replied with her usual assurance. It was good to see color return to her leader’s cheeks, despite the circumstances. “And you both must promise me you’ll not tell him, or Hikuro.”

“But, I …” Sam tried to argue.

“No buts, Sam, Hikuro cannot know it either. He’ll go straight to Tardieh,” Z replied. “So, promise me you’ll keep this between us.”

Sam let out a long breath, then nodded.

“You too, Yara. Promise me.”

“Fine, he’s your husband not mine, but when this comes back and bites you in the ass I will reserve myself the right to say I told you so.”

“You can say that all you want,” Z replied lightly. “As long as you help me survive this freaking roller coaster.”