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A
isling O’Cuinn
, the mother of three of the most vivacious daughters on the planet, stood stoic and silent as she observed the cemetery crew erect the marble memorial on the family plot where she was supposedly buried. A crisp Montana morning sky promised a brilliant sun-filled service on the day of Dakota and Teagan’s memorial.

Mother Nature blessed the event with six inches of angelic, new snow blanketing the land in an etheric peace. Reflecting the radiant crimson, orange, and pink hues in the morning sky, the pine trees seemed to bow in respect as lumbering icicles hung from their branches. The red-breasted robins, along with the black and white magpies, sang their morning greetings. A great gray owl softly whooed her lamented lullaby as she drifted to sleep after her nightly hunt.

Spring threatened, as it always did in March, to tease with warmer days and then pummel again with below freezing temperatures at night. The mountain residents of Wolf Creek, Montana, were greatly adept at living in this frigid weather, knowing they couldn't plant their gardens safely until the second week of June.

The Rocky Mountain terrain guaranteed a blizzard the last week of April. Inevitably, they would receive a light dusting of snow the week before planting. Any day in between was fair game from zero to fifty degrees, especially on the Flying F Ranch just north of Wolf Creek, with its vast acres of open terrain.

Aisling silently shape-shifted into a tree nymph, staying out of sight among the evergreen pines. Sheridan had commissioned a winged angel with Dakota’s face, holding an infant in her arms. The angelic, marble statue simply stole her breath away. The child reached up and touched the lips of her weeping aunt. Stunning, the memorial told their tragic stories. The longer Aisling looked at the statue, it somehow left her with a sense of hope that her daughter and granddaughter were safe and happy together.

One by one, the mourners arrived to stand at the gravesite and pay tribute to the family. Aisling spied through her branches while her cousin, Maisie MacCarthy, and her family drove up alongside the other vehicles in time for the service. Upon seeing the memorial, Abbey MacCarthy, Charles and Maisie’s daughter, wept at the foot of the statue of her beloved cousin.

At a remote and concealed distance, Aisling had watched the family over the past six weeks. She was careful to maintain a cloaked presence as to not tip them off she was nearby. She had been dead to them for nearly nine years now, ever since the Vampyre Queen Civetateo had called in her blood oath to the throne. To reveal herself would mean instant death to her entire family.

Aisling’s thoughts followed each person standing in the reception line of the service. Each one of her family members showed their despair in myriad ways.

Kiernan. Her beloved husband. How she missed him and ached to reveal herself to him. He had involved himself in taking care of his new grandson, hauling hay and feed for the cattle on the Flying F Ranch, and had found out he liked to blow glass in the hot shop. He spent his quiet nights in the blissful mind-meld of Aisling’s embrace. She knew he would wake dreaming of her, but not quite remembering if the encounter was real. He once told her, when she allowed him a lucid moment, that he had learned to keep his mouth shut about her since no one believed him. He knew they would force him to see doctors, spend weeks at the loony bin, and make him take more drugs to alleviate the hallucinations. She kept her distance, allowing him more time to heal between her feedings.

Sheridan’s newfound dragon boyfriend, Torchy Gravenor, was someone Aisling would need to learn more about. He seemed to be an astute businessman and an attentive caretaker to both Sheridan and Khai. As a mother, she wondered if Sheridan was handling the dragon aspect of the relationship in stride. Dragons always were a passionate species. Especially Scottish dragons. Aisling thought about it and wondered if perhaps she could send an anonymous book about the peculiarities of dragons.

Aisling approved of Cheyenne’s boyfriend. She liked Khaldon Seters and had heard of his lineage many times before from Queen Civetateo. The queen desired Khaldon to father an elite line of assassins for the throne, but he had turned down her offer. That defiance endeared Khaldon to her liking even more.

The boy Cheyenne room-mated with in college also stood in the family memorial service line. Harris Archer could have been the son she never had. He was like a brother to the girls, and she made an extra effort to watch over him and communicate with the Werewolves for his protection.

There was another man with her family, Tony Briggs. She had not known of this man, but his energy and thoughts surrounded Dakota. Aisling learned his draconian clan had a French heritage.

How did her girls manage to get mixed up with the supernatural community? She and Kiernan tried to keep them away from their birthright and raise them as normal, human girls for as long as they could.

Quite a clan they all were. Aisling absorbed the love among all of them as her family stood in a semi-circle around the marble statue.

Bouquet upon bouquet of fresh flowers were laid at the feet of the angel while people she once knew, and many others she did not know, came out to express their condolences.

A black limo pulled up among the pickup trucks and SUVs. It looked as out of place as a pink hippopotamus in the Montana mountains. A driver opened the back door of the limousine as a pair of high-heeled boots presented themselves to the ground.

Sliding out of the limo, Amicula Darkrose was draped head to toe in solid white, complete with a mourning veil covering her hat and face. Aisling sucked in a breath and almost walked out from the trees to stop her. From her tree nymph disguise, her branches curled, causing her dried leaves to fall from the limbs. Amicula walked past the tree, apparently without noticing Aisling’s disguise.

Everyone fell silent as they looked at the outlandish woman approaching the memorial. Encumbered with several bouquets, Amicula first paid tribute to Aisling’s gravesite next to the marble statue and laid down a spray of red roses.

No one in the crowd said a word, but they stared intently at the odd stranger.

Sap ran down the bark of Aisling’s tree nymph trunk as her tears freely flowed. This was the
last
thing her family needed after having a few weeks of respite and peace. They were finally beginning to heal.

Amicula continued to make a scene of herself as she plucked the blood-red rose petals from their stems and let them go. Amicula stuffed a couple of the flower petals in the tiny hands of the infant child the angel was holding. A gentle breeze caught the petals. They fell in a crimson flow cascading to the base of the statue.

Cheyenne lunged at Amicula, but Khaldon held her back.

“Why are you here? Feeling guilty? Haven’t you already done enough?” Cheyenne’s tone seethed with hatred.

Family and friends stood dumbfounded in shock at this woman’s taunting behavior. Somewhere in the distance, Aisling heard the distinct cocking of a shotgun barrel. Montana folks didn’t take too kindly to outsiders, especially rude outsiders.

The temperatures in the air had warmed just enough, allowing the icicles to drip their own tears of sadness, adding another layer mourning. Dried leaves scattered among the gravestones as a hush fell over everyone.

Amicula stood in front of the statue and addressed the mourners in her Brazilian accent. “My friends. Today we gather in tribute for two beautiful daughters we shall never see again.” Amicula continued to pluck at the rose petals.

“I wanted to express my deepest condolences to the O’Cuinn family as we have lost two valuable souls on so many levels. Dakota was a precious entity who was helping to bring balance back to a civilization that required her immense gifts. She will be sadly missed. And blessed little Teagan.” Amicula shook her head
tsking
at the loss. “Teagan had so much hope and promise for an eventful new life.” Amicula turned to look at the marble statue once again and then glinted her eyes directly into the grove of trees where Aisling stood. “We wouldn’t want to do anything to compromise the natural balance of things. Acceptance is needed now so we can brace ourselves for the coming neoteric world.”

Khaldon interlaced his hand with Cheyenne’s. His eyes cast daggers at Amicula as if he wished her to incinerate on the spot.

Aisling waited to learn if Khaldon would take action and hoped he wouldn’t respond to Amicula’s goading. She prayed none of them would reveal their true selves in front of the humans, as that would be a punishable supernatural crime. And with Amicula’s eyewitness account, she could distort the facts unfavorably, making the situation worse than it was.

Plucking the last few remaining petals from the red roses, Amicula paraded toward Cheyenne and Sheridan and spoke in a hushed voice. With her hard plaster smile, Amicula stared at the sisters. “Her Majesty, Queen Civetateo, wanted me to express her deepest condolences and that we sincerely regret these unfortunate occurrences.”

Khaldon squeezed Cheyenne’s shoulder and pulled her in closer to his chest.

Cheyenne held fast and tight to Sheridan’s hand.

Sheridan hissed her words. “How do you know our location?”

Khaldon added, “Who tipped you off?”

Amicula sneered her lips and dashed her eyes toward Khaldon. She raised her hands to the rest of the onlookers and cloaked her words for any human ears. “Why, I would think it would be obvious, my dear. Doesn’t it make sense that once you’ve become a breeder for her majesty’s court, that we’ll always know where you are?”

Sheridan gasped and held a hand to her mouth.

Cheyenne countered, “Why can’t you just leave us alone? You’ve got what you wanted, now leave.”

“Oh
, contrar
, Miss O’Cuinn. We did not receive any return on our investment with you or your sisters. You may do wise to keep that consideration in the back of your minds.”

Khaldon stepped forward. “Bloody hell, Ami. You do
not
belong here.”

“Not an issue, my love, as I do not have plans for staying. But do know this: The court has a watchful eye on all of you.” Amicula reached and put her fingertips under Khai’s chin. “Especially, the wee one here.”

Torchy slapped Amicula’s hand away. “You’ll nae be touchin’ the bairn. Best to heed the warnings. Leave us now.”

Amicula retracted and took notice of the red claw marks where Torchy struck her. She returned the growling gesture from Cheyenne, Torchy, Khaldon, Harris, and Briggs, and must have taken it as an opportunity for an amicable retreat.

Amicula studied the family with a stern grace. “None to worry. Soon you’ll be coming to me. Ta ta, for now.” She discarded the thorny stems at Sheridan’s feet.

Sheridan spat on Amicula’s shoes. “Never!”

Amicula looked down at her boots and then released the crowd from their enthrall. “Again, the queen sends her condolences.” She nodded her head and stared intently at the eyes of each person as she walked by as though she were daring them to lash out.

T
hunder roiled
and rumbled off the mountain walls and barreled through the meadow. Aisling turned her gaze skyward to see from which direction the storm was coming. Left in Amicula’s wake, the rose petals whisked in the wind, littering the snow like large drops of blood.

As Amicula left the memorial and walked toward the pine trees, she turned and put her hand on Aisling’s trunk. “What a clever disguise you’ve made for yourself, dear. It’s going to be hell getting all that sap out of your hair, don’t you think?”

Aisling didn’t say a word or acknowledge Amicula’s presence.

“I wanted to remind you of the vampyric protocol of your office. If you decide to contact your family, we will have no choice but to destroy
all
of them.” She clucked her tongue. “What a pity. Such a waste. You wouldn’t want that, now would you? So I’ll see you back in the Amazon—soon? I believe Auntie is waiting for your return. You’ll want to travel along the energy vortex ley lines since you do not have a dragon companion for transport. I, on the other hand, have a few electronic manufacturers to see before I return. Please tell Auntie I should arrive by the end of the week. Give her my love.”

Amicula turned and waltz toward the limousine and left as deftly as she had arrived.

With the unwelcome visitor’s threat looming over her, Aisling watched helplessly as Sheridan sat on the rounded seat of the memorial statue and cried from Amicula’s words.

Cheyenne searched the horizon. She cupped her ears, listening to something.

Aisling held tight to the tree as the winds blustered, hurling leaves, petals, and broken twigs through the air.

Against the sun-drenched blue sky, two UH60 Black Hawk helicopters flew overhead. Trailing below the Black Hawks barreled a military convoy with five tractor trailers, armed personnel carriers, and a tank draped in snow white camouflage netting. The trucks clamored over the cattle guard and turned onto the unpaved back road to the south side of the Flying F Ranch. Everyone stopped and stared at the unbelievable sight.

“Well that’s my cue, folks.” Uncle Charlie tried to speak above the
whomp whomp whomp
of the helicopter blades.

The immediacy of the mourning had altered with the reinstatement of the nuclear missiles. Many Montana landowners dealt with this situation, and there was nothing anyone could do about it other than to cooperate or have their land taken away.

It wouldn’t be long until more missiles arrived.

Friends and family paid their last respects to the O’Cuinns. Aisling observed her daughters and husband who stood a mere ten feet away. She ached to hold them and give them her love. She watched as her daughter kissed her granddaughter, carved into the marble statue, one more time.

Sheridan placed her hand upon Dakota’s cheek immortalized in stone. One last tear of goodbye rolled down Sheridan’s face. “I will always love and cherish you both.”