Chapter Three


Eva woke with a start and found herself surrounded by the unfamiliar; it took her minutes to remind herself where she was. She had the distinct memory of the human boy's eyes, grey irises ringed with the white of panic his lips parting centimetres from her own; she shook her head as if to dispel the image from her mind.

Clothes had been left for her, folded over the back of a chair: a black boiler suit and combat boots with a note of apology for it was all Thierry had available and no other resident member was her size.

She took time to bathe, luxuriating beneath the hot spray of the shower willing to believe for a moment that the water could wash away the lingering feel of her mortal memories.

The curse of immortality was the long memory she bore and the clarity in which she remembered her mortal life, was at times, more real to her than the present.

She dressed and left the room, conscious of Thierry's presence in the house. She sensed the other members of the Day moving behind closed doors, there was a sense of purpose and order in this place.

She came to stand by a set of bay windows overlooking a long stretch of verdant lawn, palm trees framed the garden creating a corridor of exotic green and carefully tended flowers were in full bloom adding fragrance to the place.

"Nice view, isn't it?"

Eva startled, she hadn't heard the woman approach and when she turned to meet her eyes she was wary of the glittering edge of anger in her gaze. "My name is Circe." She said as if the name held significance. It didn't, not to Eva anyway who serenely turned her face away.

Circe was Amazonian in her frame, but there was a tall, slender grace to her body.

Pale fingertips alighted Eva's arm and she felt a surge of prickling power move up her arm inch by painstaking inch. "You look familiar to me." Circe said softly, seductively. "You are Lord Thierry's friend?" That word friend was said in a distasteful tone that was meant to incite her.

"I am." Eva replied the first hint of passion colouring her voice.

"What is your name?"

"Eva Vasilia."

"Vasilia." Circe red lips curved into a mocking smile. "Royal is it? Do you consider yourself of royal blood?"

Eva's eyes met the witch's, there had been many like Circe in the vampire Court, strong and deadly women whose beauty veiled the beastly parts of them. "Who I am bears no relevance or reward for you, Circe." As she spoke she felt her fangs grow, reacting to the heat and threat of violence.

The witch stepped close, her lips was a warm line against her own, Eva felt as if she could suck at that warmth and the rich rosy power of the witch. "I seek only to protect those I love and you Eva Vasilia strike me as a very dangerous animal. I see them being drawn to you like a moth to a flame and in you I see a bright flame, an all-consuming flame."

Circe's words were meant to provoke, to test her resolve and Eva was resolved not to react, to move even the merest inch would amplify the crystal hard hunger radiating through her body.

The witch's magic continued like needles sweeping across Eva's body, not altogether unpleasant but then the Power tightened like a garrotte wire around her throat.

Someone grasped Circe by her upper arm and pulled her back. "Back off." The grey-eyed boy commanded hotly through his teeth and his grip on Circe's arm looked firm and almost painful.

"Ah, Sir Hugh, the White Knight has arrived." Circe mocked and detached herself from Hugh's grasp. "I'll be watching you, princess." She said archly before sauntering away.

"She could have seriously hurt you." Hugh murmured.

Eva released a shaky and completely unnecessary breath, her fangs retracted slowly as she pushed the near irrepressible hunger down into the pit of her being. "I could have stopped her myself." She said her voice soft but not without steel.

His eyes met hers and she felt the icy trickle of panic as the strange tide of magic rose between them. "Who are you?" He asked unable to stop himself, paying no heed to warning she had given him only a night ago. "I feel as if I know-"

She turned and walked away.

"Wait." He called aft her but she didn't stop nor slow her pace, instead she picked up speed until she disappeared in the opposite direction.

Eva had rounded a corner and almost collided with Thierry. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" He grasped her arms to steady her and he could see the distress plain on her face, a true emotion breaking through the statue-like mask of having been in the vampire Court for so long.

"I don't know." She said miserably. "Why did you bring me to this place?"

"This is my home, Eva and you are my family."

"Family?" She laughed bitterly as tears filled her eyes. "I am verale, Theorn. Unwelcome. I have no family." With that she marched away and he could nothing but watch.

Thierry sat at his desk an unsettling feeling was lodged in his chest as the thought of Eva's tear filled eyes occupied his mind.


Around 1500 BC

Theorn was travelling on foot, north, always north to find the place of his birth, the lands of the witch tribe that were now concealed beneath ice. He had the hot breath of smoke still upon him, the destruction of Ama-Sin still haunted him.

He had stood and watched as Maya took hold of the Queen of the desert land and took her life all in the pursuit of Power. The Queen was said to be the Avatar of twin goddesses, Inannna the goddess of life and beauty and Irkalla the goddess of death and life after death.

Whether her death had given Maya more mystic Power he knew not and didn't care to find out.

He set off north, with only a vague desire to go to his homeland but then it became his purpose as he moved quickly by night putting as much distance between him and the vampire tribe as possible.

The cold lands were inhabited by nomadic tribes, who moved from season to season, following the game. He had noted their movements for months now but it was one tribe that stayed during the worst of storms upon an icy ridge overlooking more icy planes and surrounded on one side by a dense forestland.

The Voin were a tribe of hunters, large men who knew how to keep and ride horses, their skills were adept at finding meat even in the freeze and their constitutions hardy enough to survive the cold.

He had heard of them from even the Southern tribes who feared them for their one hundred strong fierce warriors.

He was in the dense woodland, hunting for animals when he knew he was being watched. The girl appeared no more than sixteen years old yet her expression was marred with experiences beyond her age. She held the bow with steady arms, the arrow tip aimed at his heart. "Who are you?" She asked.

"I am Theorn." He shouted over to her.

She cocked her head, raising her ear to the sky as if listening for something and indeed he could hear clearer than she could the rustling in the wood, the mighty footfalls and scraping of body against tree, the sounds of a bear.

"From what clan do you come?"

"I do not come from this region: I have travelled from the south, beyond the rivers and snow."

His words seemed to touch her because she lowered her bow and a thoughtful look overcame her. Her slanted eyes seemed to gleam in the light of the sun, touched by some otherness that not even he could define. "You do not carry a weapon." She observed.

"I have no need of any." He said.

"How have you fed and clothed yourself in your travels?"

"With the hospitality of tribal hearths." He said.

"I will take you to the Tannak and let him decide what to do." And she did as she said, standing behind him with her hand on the hilt of a sica, her eyes shrewdly on his back as she guided him with abrupt instructions to the camp of the Voin.

"I am Theorn." He said. "What should I call you?"

"Ethīn." She said with a grudging note.

"I am of a glad heart at our meeting." He said wryly.

She grasped his arm to make him stop, she felt the hardness of his muscle but did not remark on it, one hand was still firmly upon her knife hilt. He looked beyond her, opening his senses, seeing only whiteness upon whiteness but smelling the approach of men.

"What have you got here, verale?" A tall hunter glared down at the girl. If Theorn thought her small before he thought her even smaller now in comparison to the hunter and of a different cast too.

"A prisoner for the Tannak." She said.

The hunter's eyes moved over Theorn who held his ground and his stare. He gave a curt nod and left. "Where is he going?"

"To fetch the Tannak." She said.

"I was not aware that I was your prisoner."

"You are hardly a guest." She pointed out. "No man traverses Byehely without a grim purpose."

Despite her words and hard tone she had saved him from an encounter with the bear, he supposed and he could see the kindness in that even if she had marched him to her camp and called him her prisoner.

The man returned and he indicated for Theorn to follow which he did with no real suspicion, confident of his strength to overpower them both. He could feel the warmth of the human camp from a distance and closed his eyes briefly to luxuriate in the fleeting feeling of heat and civilisation; his journey had been hard through the ice and snow.

It was not long before the Tannak arrived and he was unmistakable: marked by a tall frame, pretty features, and draped beneath the skin of a brown bear.

"Tannack." The man greeted his king with a deep incline of his head. "I found this man in the forest." Ethīn's part in this had already been forgotten and Theorn glanced at her but she was already on one knee, waiting patiently for instruction or content to be ignored.

The Tannack studied his face as if seeing beyond mere flesh and blood, Theorn had seen such a look before, on the Oracles and soothsayers of the southern lands. The Tannack seemed satisfied with what he saw or else he was mystified by Theorn's ethereal beauty and a close lipped smile brooked his lips. "Be welcome in my lands, traveller. I am King of the Voin, my name is Orech. What do you seek here in Byehliy?"

"Noble King, my name is Theorn Spearthrower, I've come seeking shelter for I am journeying further north." Theorn said falling to one knee.

"There is nothing further north." Orech said.

"But I am going nonetheless." He replied and got to his feet.

The Tannak laughed and his people inclined their heads in deference to him.

"Eat with us. Drink with us. You must have travelled the long hard road and it seems you are intent to travel an even longer and harder road." He said clapping a hand on Theorn's back and guided him toward the hearth fires of the camp.

The Voin were industrious and organised a collection of fires where meat roasted on wooden spits and the tribe sat around the largest flame eating and drinking and talking over one another. The Voin were indeed a ferocious people, hunters of wolves and bears they bore the skins like trophies as well as to keep warm.

Thierry stood watching, marvelling at the alcohol they guzzled as if it were water, it was alcohol fermented from grain and had a strong and unpleasant scent.

"I do not trust him." He heard Ethīn hiss in Orech's ear.

The Tannak's condescending laughter rumbled in his chest. "His face is pleasant enough. Ah, he is one man against hundreds, what harm can he be to us?"

Her black eyes met Theorn's from across the fire and he was startled by the clarity in them, she was not swayed by his fair face or mesmeric eyes. She bared her teeth at him in a fierce expression that seemed to say she knew what he was or that she was not deceived by him.

Ethīn moved to stand protectively close to the girl Katrine whilst Theorn took his seat of honour between the Tannak and Hanok Imre. Theorn turned to Imre to speak. "She is not of your blood." He observed remarking on the darkness of her hair against her porcelain pale face, the slant of her eyes glittering like black jewels in the semi-dark, she was by far the smallest of her tribe and she moved differently.

"Ethīn is verale." He said by way of explanation but Thierry did not know this word. He watched as Ethīn caught a young hunter's wrist and hissed an insult in his face.

"Some say she was raised by Vucari." Imre muttered taking a long draught of his drink.

"Vucari?"

"The wolf men of the wilderness."

Werewolves. He laughed out loud. Ethīn was fierce, there was a strange beauty in her features, so unlike the others but she was not magical.

Orech noted the path of his stare. "You are not the first foreigner to be curious of her." He said and glanced at him shrewdly. "A warrior from the south forced himself upon a Hanak of the Voin in the last great battle. She is a bastard, hearth-less, not true kin."

A warrior from the south…a man from the South Eastern lands, most likely of Möngke or Ch'in, Theorn surmised as he considered the strange girl whose curious eyes had never left her charge.

"And you allowed such a child to be born? To live among you? To take charge of your daughter?" He asked in wonder, had he found a king capable of such mercy? But his tone prickled Orech.

"She was cast out, as is our custom, into the wilderness as a babe." Imre interrupted from beside them as he chewed contemplatively on a piece of cured meat. "Left to the will of Morana, it was the will of the goddess that brought her back to us and we people of the Voin are mindful of our gods, friend. What gods do you worship?"

The flash of Maya's red lips and protean colour eyes lanced through his memories, the memory of blood on his hands, warm and sticky on his lips made him turn his eyes to the ground. "None that I care to talk about." He murmured.

Theorn turned his attention to the girl beside Ethīn, Katrine. Katrine was innocent though her appetites were stirred being on the cusp of womanhood; she looked so much like his kind and gentle Hana though she was perhaps taller, more slender, her hair a shade paler and her eyes unremarkable. He felt a hot stab of guilt and turned away from her too.

"Katrine is the Jewel of the Voin. She is my only daughter."

"And no sons?" He was barely aware he was asking as he was drawn back to stare at Ethīn who moved like a shadow against shadows, her dark eyes always on Katrine.

"None." Orech said with a sly smile. "Yet." He lifted his skin and took a giant gulp. Imre burst out into bawdy laughter and the flautist played a jaunty tune.

"Now listen, people of the Voin." He said and quiet fell immediately on the people. "This is a sad and joyful time for our people, our Jewel will be taken south of the Ider River and then west to meet with the the Great Jüz. Let us commiserate together the loss of our greatest treasure with more drink."

The Tannak lifted his cup and everyone held theirs, save Ethīn who was not permitted to bear one. "With the gift of my daughter we make peace with the Great Jüz."

Theorn murmured his enquiry to Imre who glanced at him. "The Voin and the Great Jüz of Argan are the mightiest tribes in these lands." Just as Hellewise's tribe had been before...But he had been among the the Great Jüz, the hordes of Chief Argan and knew them to be a harsh people, disciplined by the Kipchak Plain and its often unforgiving ground.

"It seems a shame to spend your most precious of treasures on a Kipchak tribe."

Imre laughed and drank deep of his cup.

As night fell and the people retired to their tents, Theorn waited until all were asleep before he crept into the Jewel's abode. He had no intention of harming her and was content to stare at Katrine as she slept peacefully looking so much like Hana and yet not at all. Beside her Ethīn was curled beneath her wolf skin, her expression disturbed in sleep; she trembled as if caught in the midst of a nightmare.

Night soon turned to day and Theorn rose from the guest's tent toward the site where the largest fire had been lit, it was ash and smoke now and the people of the Voin looked bleary eyed but cheerful enough.

Soon he was surrounded by the scent of roasting meat, Katrine was already seated by her father's side when Ethīn came out of her tent, dark circles coloured the skin beneath her eyes, and her mouth was grimly set though she had not had a drop.

She met his eyes from a distance and he froze feeling a sudden horror as if she knew what he was and what he had done.


Present Day

"Great line, Hugh." Soren said cynically from where he had been watching.

There was no denying now that something had happened, perhaps it was the remnants of Circe's magic, perhaps a trick of his mind but he had felt magic rise between he and the vampire girl. Jupiter barked ecstatically looking from one man to the other; his call for attention seemed to break the spell.

"It wasn't a line." Hugh murmured; his eyes remained on the path the vampire had taken. He was confounded, why was she working so hard to ward him away from her? She was a stranger…maybe she just doesn't like humans, he thought.

"Do you know her then?" Soren asked.

Hugh shook his head, no.

"I think you should stay away from her man, she feels…strange."

"Not strange." Hugh said his voice soft, contemplative. "Sad."


Miss S