Resurrected

Me: Like I said in my other fic, I can reimagine almost anything. So this is what I think should happen next after Tempted.

BTW there is background info on this and the OCs in my other fic "A Rumour in St. Petersburg", this makes more sense if you've read that.

Lenobia's POV

Flames.

Beneath my riding glove, the hand on his shoulder was cold. Through that minimal touch I could feel everything. Every sob that shattered every bone in his body. His soul was broken. It would never be whole again. I exhaled firmly, stifling the sob that was rising to my throat. What right had I to cry when Dragon had just lost his soulmate? When love was pouring out of his broken heart like blood and staining the ground red?

I could barely believe the others. I scarcely expected any pupils to be at a teacher's funeral, not even vampyre fledglings. I hadn't the faith in mankind for that. Seeing Dragon's tears had stripped me of any faith I might have had left. Where were Penthesilia? Gramy? And the several others whose names I should be able to recall if I had spent a little less time with my horses and a little more time in the staff room? Kalona's spell had done more than turn them into lifeless puppets. They were probably inside teaching their classes. I was almost physically sick.

Something inside me told me I should have expected something like this. I had been exposed to death and war my entire life. My father, who was once head of the German Cavalry, might have once told me that when one goes to war, there will be death. It is inevitable. My early life in the German Army and then working for Great Britain during World War Two had made me a hard person. I was a soldier born and bred as much as I was a horsewoman, and extremely proud of it. I had seen many friends die. But this was so much worse.

To go into war and expect death is one thing. To just be thrown into a war you shouldn't even be fighting in in the first place is another. First Patricia Nolan, then Loren Blake. Now this. My gut instinct disliked Loren Blake immensely, but reasoning told me he wasn't a bad person, simply a weak one. I had my own hunches as to who had done it. The only question was why. She was sickly sweet on the outside, I was extremely glad I wasn't the only one who knew better. She even pretended to commemorate them. Another thing that confused me – Neferet would always take something that had meant a lot to the victim, it had been a bracelet of Patricia's and, Loren's broach signifying him as the Vampyre Poet Laureate, I think - and she wore it, as a way of holding their dignity high, she had said. To me it seemed like a highly strange thing to do, I had never seen any other High Priestesses do it. Quite frankly I saw it as thievery. The other thing about her bothering me was her presence – she wasn't here in body, but her aura was cast over the House of Night like a foreboding shadow. I felt proud that she was not to have anything of Anastasia's.

I clenched my jaw. Losing a soulmate was not something you could get over. Dragon's fate was a sealed one. At that moment I quite honestly believed that if Dragon stood up and asked me to go with him to Switzerland, I would have accepted. If he had asked me to impale him with a sword, and end his life, so he could be with her, I probably would have done it. I cared not that it would leave me alone here. I only wanted to end his pain. The fact that I could not was more powerlessness than I could stomach.

He was slowly dying in front of me. It wasn't a metaphor. Another one of the sections of vampyre sociology she had let slip past the fledglings. Mates, true mates, could survive solely off each other's blood, and quite little of it. Human blood was completely unnecessary, as was even vampyre blood, but after such a bond forms, it also loses almost all of its nutritional value. Rarely enough to sustain a life...

I thought of my friend. Anastasia. She was, as people had often called her as a child, an imp. Fun-loving, and kind, she brightened every room. Her control of magic, her powers, were proof that Nyx loved her too. I admired both of them. I had often thought that if any man ever loved me merely a quarter as much as Dragon loved Anastasia, I should be eternally happy, for it was more than a great majority of us manage in our incredibly long lifetimes.

I hadn't the first clue how to go about this. How can I be there for him? How can I be there for everybody? How can I make sure that this happens to no one else?

Enough.

One of Zoey's friends came to our side, wanting my company. The harder side of me wanted to scream at them to leave me, but the reasoned side, of course, repressed it. I agreed to meet them in one of the dormitories. The conversation meant very little to me, and I authorised them to take the jet and fly to San Clemente. Zoey Redbird looked at me almost sadly when I told them I would not be going. I wasn't going to leave Dragon on his own, and someone had to get this place back on its feet again. My stomach churned at practically sending a group of schoolchildren into a battle. I had to trust that it was what Nyx wanted. Erce would look after them, I hoped.

Stepping out of the girls' dormitories, the sadness of the smoke billowed across the grounds. I made my way back to Dragon, but stopped just as he came into my vision. Should I go to him? Should I leave him alone? As I stood caught in my decision I saw a large black BMW pull up at the gates. Four figures, also dressed in black, got out of the car. I immediately recognised them and took quick steps towards them. That had been quick. I had called to Europe for help, knowing full well that I needed it. The figures were friends, professors from the House of Night of Valencia, Spain, where Dragon and Anastasia had Changed ninety years ago. The driver of the car was a tall vampyre who looked Spanish in every aspect, except he had icy blue eyes. I recognised him as Dimitri Mihailov, their fencing professor. Known widely as 'the vamp who taught Dragon Lankford to fence", he had also been Anastasia's relative, rescuing her from the Bolsheviks in 1918. The next figure was a woman with long curly blonde hair, who was Adélaïde Ségaèle, Anastasia's mentor. The next was a more familiar face. A good friend of mine, the Horse Mistress of Valencia, Juliane Werner, a fellow German who had been a rider at das Landgestüt Warendorf with me many years ago. The last figure was almost regal, and I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. It was their High Priestess, Rosalina. I greeted them as well as I could, knowing that their thoughts were already with the smoke billowing from behind the wall.

"Merry meet, High Priestess." I said, greeting her with a handshake.

"Merry meet Lenobia." She said, "The circumstances of our meeting pain me greatly."

I turned and lead them to where Dragon was still kneeling. He didn't move, or say anything, but he knew we were there.

I don't know how long we stood there. Silent. Even tears were spilling from the eyes of Dimitri Mihailov. Eventually, Rosalina found her voice.

"This must end now." She said, her voice unwavering, "Lenobia, would you be so kind?"

I nodded, and led the three females towards Neferet's office. Mihailov remained with Dragon. Closing the door behind us, I clasped my brow in frustration and gestured for them to take a seat on the sofas.

"I must know the full extent of what has transpired." Said Rosalina.

I sighed. "The entire school, except Anastasia, Dragon and myself fell under the spell of Kalona. Except for those fledglings you have no doubt heard about." I said, "A few days ago, Zoey Redbird was brought back here for healing. When healed the situation was such that she and the other fledglings had to return to the Benedictine Abbey for protection. Dragon, Anastasia and I provided the diversions for them to escape. And then..."

Rosalina nodded, I didn't need to explain the next part. "The spell of Kalona..." she said, "Is not so much that of Kalona but that of Neferet."

"I sense a terrible aura 'ere..." said Adélaïde "Zhe spell is a clever one, and it is woven into zhe school's walls. However I do believe zhat it can be countered and broken."

"Fencing and Spells & Rituals classes shall cease for the time being, in remembrance." Said Rosalina, "If Adélaïde can counter the spell, Dimitri can organise the Sons of Erebus, for now. Then they can begin teaching again in a week. I believe you requested Juliane to take your teaching load for now Lenobia, and I shall do my best to fill Neferet's role."

"I am most grateful." I said, "I only dread to think what Neferet is planning for us."

Rosalina was sympathetic. "You know better than to underestimate the Council, Lenobia." She said, "They already know that Neferet is no longer an avatar of Nyx. She will not become the next Vampyre High Priestess."

"What worries me is how she will manipulate them, magically, who she will kill, who Kalona will kill."

"It vorries us too." Said Juliane, her voice revealing her German accent, "That is vhy ve are here."

"Poor Dragon..." I muttered, "The only thing stopping him from killing himself is the knowledge that Neferet and Kalona would want just that."

"I pray it will not come to that." Said Rosalina.

The day went on more slowly than any ever before, Dragon and Mihailov were outside the entire day. It was not until Juliane and I had finished the horses just before dawn that I noticed they were no longer there. Quickly preparing a bowl of soup and pouring some wine into a glass, I dragged my feet up to Dragon's suite, and knocked on the door. No answer. Gingerly, I twisted the doorknob and let myself in. Our professors' suites were laid out like flats, one main room for eating/lounging, two bedrooms and a bathroom. I saw the door to their bedroom was open, and went in.

The sight before me was awful. Dragon was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a pillow, which I presumed was hers, in his lap. There was an empty shoebox at the one end, and all over the duvet were spread pictures. Photographs, some newspaper clippings, all written in Russian, letters, something that looked like a drawing. Dragon's face was tearstained, although no more tears were falling. His eyes were fixed on a photo frame in his hand.

It was their wedding photograph.

"I brought you some supper." I said, my voice drying up as I said it. I put the tray down on the bedside table, noting that he hadn't touched the wine Mihailov had given him earlier.

There was a pause. "I'm lost Lenobia..." he said, his voice shaking, "I'm nothing without her..."

I could see all his happy memories of them replaying slowly in front of his eyes. "She would want you to be brave..." I said, regretting how foolish it sounded.

"I can't..." he shook, "There is nothing left."

I sat on the edge of the bed and put my hand over his, squeezing it. What could I say? I couldn't tell him it would be alright, because it wouldn't be. "I just want you to know..." I said, my eyes tearing up, "That I am your friend. I will always be, and I will stand by you to the end, no matter what happens."I felt him grip my hand, the tension fading as quickly as it came about. I rubbed his shoulder. "I'll leave you alone." I said, silently getting up and heading for the door.

"Lenobia..."

I froze, turning to see him face me for the first time.

"Thank you."

I gave him a nod of understanding and respect. Leaving him alone was hard, but he needed it. On my way out, I little glint of silver caught my eye. On the coffee table in the lounge lay a blade case, the glint coming from a tiny silver key in its keyhole. An idea flashed before my eyes, one that both frightened and concerned me. I reached out to the little key, testing it with my fingers. The case was locked. Something within told me to take the little key and slip it into my pocket. I closed my eyes and tensed my brow, before pulling myself away. I left the little key in the lock.