The Necromancer's Nephew (12 page)

"Your mother's blood?" Marla asked, "What do you mean?"

The goblin blinked at her. "The blood flower," he said, "A garden for her blood flower."

Marla blinked. "Your flower is a blood rose?" she asked.

"Yes, my queen, my mother's blood."

"Ah, well," she said, her face unreadable, "you had better make it a very special garden then."

The goblin nodded frantically and then bounded away across the courtyard, leaving them alone.

"A blood rose!" Marla gasped.

"What is it?" Garrett asked.

She looked at him, searching for words. She spoke at last, "I think our goblin is very old indeed. This one was made, not born. If his mother had been a goblin, her blood wouldn't have done anything when she died. If he was first-generation, his mother would have been..."

"A dragon?" Garrett asked.

Marla nodded.

"What is a blood flower?" he asked.

"Only the blood of the most powerful magical creatures would grow a blood rose," she said, "What he calls his mother would have to have been the dragon that sang him into being."

Garrett cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Marla," he said, "but the ghost asked me not to tell you what the flower was. I didn't know why it was important, but she was afraid that another vampire might find out about it."

Marla narrowed her eyes.

"I didn't want to keep it a secret from you," he said, "it's just... please promise me you won't tell anyone else. It seemed really important to her."

Marla looked away. "I don't know Garrett..."

"Why would other vampires want the flower anyway?" he asked, "I mean, it doesn't really have blood in it, does it?"

Marla frowned and looked at him again. "Not exactly," she said, "but some of the dragon's power, and some of its memories are bound to the plant that grew up where its blood was spilled on the earth. So much of that world has been lost forever. I don't know if we have the right to let this piece of it wither away in the darkness."

"What would you do with it if you had it?" Garrett asked.

"I would give it to my mother, and she would give it to the elders. They would take it back to Thrinaar where it would be kept safe and studied."

"Thrinaar?"

"Our home city," she said, "I was born there."

"Ah," Garrett said, "I guess... I mean… it's important to me that you don't tell anyone. I wasn't supposed to let anyone know."

"But you didn't," Marla said, "I found out for myself."

"I know... it's just, I don't know... it feels wrong. I think the ghost knows how to take care of the flower. I don't think she'd let it die."

Marla looked troubled. "All right," she said, "I won't say anything... for now."

"Thanks, Marla."

She smiled at him.

They turned to meet Warren as he came bounding up the dusty lane toward them. "Sorry guys," he said, "I gotta take you back now."

"What's wrong?" Garrett asked.

"The Chadiri have declared war on Astorra," Warren said, "We've all been summoned to a meeting tonight."

"Who’s Astorra?" Garrett asked.

"It's a kingdom to the north," Marla said.

"Are they our friends?"

Warren snorted in response.

"Not exactly," Marla said, 'but now they are our enemy's enemy. This could be very good news."

"Can they beat the Chadiri?" Garrett asked.

"Dunno," Warren said, "but at least we might have a chance against 'em now. Anyway, I need to take you both back to the surface so I can make the meeting. I'm supposed to see that you get to your uncle right away."

Garrett and Marla followed the ghoul as he led them out of Marrowvyn. By the time they reached the tunnel beneath the market and wrenched open the door to the surface, the light of day had already begun to fade.

"Thank you for a lovely time," Marla said, "both of you." Her smile made Garrett's stomach flutter a little.

"Yeah," Warren said, "thanks for the uh... spider thing, you know."

"Thanks for everything," Garrett said.

Marla nodded, and a strand of dark hair fell across her eyes. Garrett's fingers ached to brush it back.

"Perhaps we could do this again sometime," Marla said.

"Yeah, I'd like that," Garrett said.

Warren groaned impatiently.

"You don't have to wait, Warren," Garrett said, "I can find my way back from here."

"No way!" Warren scoffed, "Dad said to see you home right away, and I'd like to keep my hide intact, thank you!"

"All right," Garrett said, turning to face Marla again, "I had a really good time today."

"So did I," she said.

"I, uh, hope that..." Garrett stepped forward, leaning close. The flowery scent of Marla's hair sent a warm tingle through his skin.

"Yes?" Marla whispered, leaning toward him, her eyes questioning.

"I..." Garrett's hand lifted to the edge of his hood. If he pulled it back just a little...

Marla's lips parted slightly
.

Garrett's heart hammered in his chest. He steeled his will to take the chance.

"Cramps, Garrett! Will you stop trying to see her fangs? Let's go!" Warren said.

Marla drew back, her hand clamped over her mouth. Her cheeks flushed red, and she turned and fled into the twilight alleyway.

"Marla!" Garrett called after her, but she moved too fast.

"Can we go now?" Warren asked.

Garrett turned, took three steps toward his friend and punched him in the nose.

Warren stumbled back, more stunned than hurt. His eyes flashed red and his lips curled back over his long teeth. The ghoul’s breath exploded in a hissing growl, and his fur bristled.

Garrett set his feet and raised his fists. He tried to speak, but only a feral snarl came out.

Warren blinked and shook his head. Slowly his fur drooped and his massive shoulders relaxed. He took a step back.

"Come on, let's go!"

Garrett lowered his fists, retreaved his fallen torch, and followed his friend into the darkness of the tunnel.

Garrett mounted the basement steps, still angry with Warren. The ghoul had left him on the subterranean doorstep to Uncle's manor house and disappeared into the shadows without a word.

Most of all, Garrett worried what Marla thought of him now, and wished he had either just said goodbye or been a little quicker with his attempted kiss.

His feet hurt, and his knuckles ached. He had never hit anyone before, not really. The rational side of his brain told him that Warren could have easily torn him apart, if it had come to that. Still, he could not quite bring himself to regret hitting his friend.

He whispered the command word, "
Telu
," and his witchfire torch snuffed out. Garrett placed it in a sconce upon the wall. He swung open the door and stepped into the ground floor hallway
.

The indistinct sounds of conversation carried from the parlor, and Garrett made his way toward his uncle's voice.

"...you sure you don't want to come with us?" Zara was saying as Garrett rapped politely at the open door.

Uncle turned and motioned Garrett inside. Zara and Cenick nodded at him, smiling.

"It will be just like old times, Uncle," Zara added.

Uncle Tinjin shook his head. "No," he said, "I have some things to attend here. War is for young brigands like the two of you."

"We could use the help, Uncle," Cenick said, "This may be our best chance at winning this."

"Hmn," Uncle mused, "The Chadiri are no fools. They will be expecting something like this. I wish you boys would reconsider."

"Sorry Uncle
.
" Zara grinned
.
"
T
his is too much fun to pass up!"

"And his little priestess will be there, so you haven't got a chance at dissuading him anyway," Cenick laughed.

Zara pulled a frown. "Well, in any case, I'll finally get to see how the sisterhood makes a skelly."

"They'll probably put up a curtain just to keep you from peeking!" Cenick said.

Zara grinned. "As if that would stop me."

"You'd better be careful whose drapes you go lifting," Cenick said, "The priestesses are not known for their forgiving natures."

"They are, however, known for their punctuality," Uncle interjected with a nod toward the clock.

"Oh, crix!" Zara said, "We should be going. Uncle?"

"We won't be joining you tonight," Uncle Tinjin said, placing his hand on Garrett's shoulder, give my regards to the ghouls... and to your priestess."

"Goodnight, Uncle," Zara said as he pulled on his hooded outer robe.

"We'll stop by before we leave the city," Cenick said.

"Be careful boys," Uncle said, "Don't get too... patriotic."

Zara grinned broadly and tugged his hood over his eyes. Cenick nodded at Garrett, as the two young men took their leave.

Uncle sighed and slumped into a nearby chair. Garrett sat opposite him on an oversized ottoman, saying nothing.

Uncle rubbed his hand over the gray stubble of his chin, grimacing. He looked at Garrett. "What's wrong, boy?"

Garrett remained silent for a moment. "I hit Warren," he said.

Uncle's nose wrinkled. "Why ever would you do such a thing?"

"I don't know. He just..."

"Just what?"

"He embarrassed me in front of Marla..."

"Oh," Uncle said, "Did you hit him in front of her?"

"No, she ran off before that," Garrett said.

"Ah... did Warren hit you back?"

"No. I don't think I really hurt him."

"Well, that remains to be seen, I suppose," Uncle said, "but ghouls are tougher than little girls, so we'll start with Marla first."

"What should I do?"

Uncle smiled. "Get some rest for now, son. We'll sort this out in the morning."

Garrett smiled.

"Something funny?" Uncle asked.

"You called me
son
just now," Garrett said.

"Hmn, I suppose I did," Uncle said, "Does that bother you?"

"No," Garrett said, "I kinda like it."

****

Garrett woke the next morning to the sound of a knock at his bedroom door.

"Come in," he said, rubbing his eyes in the gray light of dawn.

Uncle swung the door open and stepped inside. Garrett's zombie followed close behind him.

"Caleb!" Garrett said.

The zombie was carrying a large bouquet of purple flowers.

"What are those for?" Garrett asked.

"Those are for your lady friend," Uncle said with a little smile, "I took the liberty of selecting some for you."

"You think she'll like them?" Garrett asked.

"I think it's likely she will," Uncle said, "Oh, your zombie is fully registered now. The registrars were quite impressed with him."

"Thanks for taking him," Garrett said, getting out of bed to pull the flowers from Caleb's stiff grip.

"You should take him with you when you go this morning."

"Go where?" Garrett asked.

"The Thrinnian Embassy, of course," Uncle said.

"I've never been there. Won't Marla be at the shop anyway?"

"Not today," Uncle said, "T
he shop was closed when I went by there this morning."

"Is something wrong?" Garrett asked.

Uncle shrugged. "With the vampires, something is always wrong. If this were any other family, I would discourage your friendship with them."

"What do you mean?"

"Marla and her mother... they are unlike any other vampires I have ever met... with the exception of Marla's father. He was a good friend."

"What happened to her father?" Garrett asked.

Uncle dragged the chair from Garrett's desk and sat down. He stared at his hands for a long moment before speaking again. "He sacrificed his life to protect his people. He faced his fate bravely, and I am proud to have known such a man."

"Who killed him?"

"A dragon."

Garrett's skin went cold. "Were you there?"

"No," Uncle said, "He asked me to look after his wife and baby daughter. He feared what might become of them if they remained in Thrinaar without him. I escaped the city with them and brought them here. I have looked in on them from time to time ever since."

"Is the dragon looking for them still?" Garrett asked, a slight tremor in his voice.

Uncle looked at him and smiled. "No, I don't believe so," he said, "but there are worse things than dragons in this world. Sometimes the greatest danger lurks behind a friendly smile. Don't forget that."