A/N I have no claim on any of the characters of True Blood and the Southern Vampire Mysteries, and my use of CNN as a network is only there because I lack the creativity to come up with my own network acronym.
Chapter 21
Carly waited patiently in the small lounge set aside for the passengers of the newly branded Anubis Airlines at the Shreveport airport. Eric's travel coffin, and a larger crate accommodating Himmler in his silver-lined containment, waited beside her as she watched the ground crew go over the small jet just outside the plate glass window. The late afternoon sun made it difficult for her to focus on all the details of the plane, but she was fairly certain that it was the same make and model as Eric's plane. Perhaps it was the one that he shared with other vampires in the greater Texas/Arkansas/Louisiana area. Eric told her the night before that a group of them had incorporated and were now "rebranding" themselves as a high-dollar, high-security airline expressly for vampire clientele. It seemed like a good idea to Carly, but it also seemed as if it might attract unwelcome attention.
As she waited, Carly tried to keep track of the people around her, scanning them to ferret out ill intent, but most seemed to be doing their jobs as diligently as one would expect in a small, regional airport.
Run...run...that's what we could do...we could run. But I don't want to hurt anybody. Hate hurting people. I know that makes me a bad wolf...but I hate hurting anyone.
Indistinct, frantic thoughts crossed Carly's field of attention, but she had difficulty relocating them when they disappeared. After a few moments, she focused on one of the ground crew. She peered into his mind, hoping primarily that he wasn't planning to sabotage the plane.
Good pressure, full oil. Nice plane...been taken good care of. Won't have any problem with the flight to New Jersey...don't know how I'm gonna get her outta the airport though. She's a pretty thing...she'll stick out. And she's stuck to those coffins.
Out loud, Carly said, "Seriously? Again!"
"Is everything all right, ma'am?" The Anubis representative, who seemed busy with a number of tasks, asked with some concern.
Carly smiled, "No, I'm sorry, I mean..." Carly took a deep breath to settle herself before she responded. "Everything is fine. I just have a little indigestion. I thought I had taken enough medicine to get rid of it."
He smiled sympathetically. "I understand. Gumbo always does that to me. Sometimes you think you've kicked it and then it shows right back up."
"Yep, that's it." Carly pointed at the airplane. "Do you know when we'll be loaded onto the plane?"
He looked at his watch. "Scheduled departure is in fifteen minutes, so I suppose the cargo folks will come in to get you in about ten."
"Thanks," Carly responded politely.
A few minutes later, as promised, two burly cargo guys—one tattooed and in his twenties and wearing a tag that identified him as Chris, and the other about forty-five or fifty, named Bobby-came into the lounge to transport the coffins.
"Do you have any more luggage, ma'am?" the younger of the two asked.
Carly shook her head. "No, just my carry-on."
Bobby added quickly, "You can follow us, ma'am, and board the plane as well. Will both of them wake up during the flight?"
"No, just the one in the travel coffin," Carly responded. "The other one has been ill, so he's sleeping long after sunset these days." The lie poured out of her mouth without hesitation. In most ways, Himmler had been "ill" for almost a century.
Commiserating, as if they were discussing old relatives, Bobby said, "That's too bad. I hope he gets better soon."
"Thanks," Carly smiled, looking around as they passed through the lounge doors for her would-be kidnapper.
The two loaded Himmler into the cargo-hold in the belly of the plane, and then carried Eric's coffin into the main compartment. As Carly mounted the stairs, she felt the werewolf's mind approach and heard clearly that he didn't like to carry a gun and regretted bringing a revolver. When he was about three feet away, Carly turned quickly, swinging her carry-on bag around as if it were an Olympic hammer. The impact knocked the gun from the werewolf's hand and threw him off balance. Carly started screaming, "Help! Help! I'm being attacked!"
Scrambling to recover the pistol that had flown from his hands, the werewolf slipped and fell. As he did, Chris bounded under the plane and tackled him. The two started to wrestle on the ground, and Carly could feel the werewolf begin to change his shape. Carly jumped back down to the tarmac and screamed, "Stop! Just stop it. You're not going to shift, or I'll really make you regret it."
Somehow, Carly grabbed hold of the werewolf's head as the two men struggled against each other, and she felt a wave of violent energy pour into her, along with the wolf's memories of his lost father and his sense of impotence when dealing with his sister. "Just stop it, Dave," she used the werewolf's name in the hope that would quiet him, and it did. He stopped fighting and allowed Chris to pin him to the tarmac.
Bristling with energy from the werewolf, Carly demanded, "Who sent you?"
"I didn't want to hurt you, ma'am, really. I wouldn't hurt you," David started to blubber.
"I don't care," Carly chastised, "just tell me who sent you!"
"Guys out of Jackson. They got my sister and her baby boy," David's tears increased, "and they said if I didn't bring you to 'em they'd skin both of 'em alive."
Bobby came around the plane with his cellphone and said, "The police will be here in five minutes, they said."
Looking within David, Carly could see how deeply he cared for his sister and her son, his only living family. He lacked a pack, and his sister had bounced around from man to man and wound up landing on an unsavory wolf in the Jackson pack, who wasn't even interested in the boy. A friend of David's, who died right after she got pregnant, was the little boy's father.
"Tell them it's a misunderstanding, Bobby," Carly said above the engine noise. "I think I can help him out."
Bobby cocked his head and said into the phone, "Can you wait a minute?" Then, returning his attention to Carly, "Are you sure, ma'am, he had a gun?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. But you guys can get rid of the gun. Put him on the plane and restrain him for me," Carly directed.
As she climbed up the steps behind Chris and David, she heard Bobby inform the police that there'd been a "misunderstanding," and that there wasn't really a problem after all.
Before Chris seated the werewolf, Carly asked, "David, where's your wallet?"
"Back pocket."
Carly grabbed it and started looking for pictures. The werewolf had pictures of his father and mother, whom Carly knew were both dead, as well as of his dead friend Noah, his sister, and the little boy, just a toddler.
Once the werewolf was duct-taped into his seat, Chris said, "Good luck, ma'am."
"Thanks." Carly smiled to the cargo loader and replied, "I'll probably need it. At least for when my vampire wakes up. He's not going to be happy with me."
The flight attendant popped out of the kitchenette and squeaked when she saw the restrained werewolf in the plane. "Oh dear!"
Carly started to laugh and said, "It's all right. Mr. Northman gave me a last minute directive to bring David along. Could you give me a second though, before you close the door?"
"Umm," the flight attendant paused and then finally looked at Carly, "sure. I guess."
Remembering that consuming the death energy that clung to David would probably make her smell horrible to Eric's sensitive nose, Carly struggled to process it and discard it. Since she couldn't deposit it into an animal, Carly focused all her concentration toward a brush field between the runways. Carly stared into the distance towards the field and willed the energy across the gap and into the field mice she sensed scurrying around beneath the visible brush. As she exhaled, she felt stronger, but even less human than she'd felt last night as she looked upon the bodies of the dead werewolves who had attacked her.
"Okay," Carly called to the flight attendant. "We can go."
The flight attendant secured the door and the plane began to taxi toward the runway.
Carly sat across from David so that they could look at one another. "So tell me why these wolves have your sister and your nephew?"
The lonely wolf closed his eyes in palpable despair. "A couple months ago she took up with one of them, but I know they've been passing her around."
"So when you pull her out of there, is she going to have enough sense to stay away from wolves like that?"
David sniffed back his tears and answered, "I don't think they're being good to her right now, so I can't see her going back there. She really wanted out when she called me yesterday, and when I got there last night, she was all black and blue and cryin'."
"But if you don't hand me over, they'll kill her and probably you too, right?"
David nodded. "I'm sure they'll kill all of us. They're messed up, even for wolves."
"Why don't you have a pack?" Carly wanted all the information she could get before she helped him to retrieve his sister.
With more tears, David answered, "They all got killed in an explosion. One of alphas started making meth, and he blew everybody up."
Although she knew she'd made the decision when she brought him on the plane, Carly deepened her resolve and asked David, "Do you object to moving away and starting over?" Carly knew that he was a mechanic—hard-working, skilled.
He shook his head furiously. "Why would I? I've been trying to get Jamie to leave here since Noah died, but she kept saying no. If she lives through this, I can't see how she'd say no now."
"Okay," Carly decided. "I'm going to bring the two of them to you, but you're going to have to help me, okay?"
"Whatever it takes," the wolf said as his voice broke and more tears poured down his face.
Carly sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. Friagabi said that she could "summon" Himmler to her. She'd brought Eric to her, she'd sent herself to Eric, and she'd sent the two of them to Fangtasia. Now, she was going to try something much more dangerous—probably if Eric were awake he'd talk her out of it, convince her that she was letting her powers go to her head, that she was getting prideful, and that pride goeth before a fall.
He probably wouldn't quote Christian scriptures, but there were plenty of Norse stories about prideful kings who overreached and wound up suffering as a result.
Once they were in the air, the flight attendant came to give her a drink. Carly accepted water, and asked for one with a straw for David. "And I'm sorry, but could you go back up to the front for a little while? I need privacy."
The flight attendant looked at David, Eric's travel coffin, and then at Carly, and retreated quickly back to her seat on the other side of the partition, immediately beside the pilot's cabin. Carly didn't dare listen to her thoughts.
After giving him a few sips of water, Carly asked, "David, can you think of where you last saw your sister and your nephew for me? I need you to imagine yourself back where you saw them and remember them as carefully as you possibly can."
"Okay," David agreed, "but why?"
"David," Carly said in her most commanding voice, "I don't need you to ask why, I just need you to do it, okay?"
Without questioning her again, David closed his eyes, and Carly took hold of his hands. Carly could see in David's mind Jamie as he knew her, the slight, skinny brunette, who fought valiantly as two heavy-set werewolves held her arms and lifted her off the ground. They both laughed, and one of them licked the side of her face, taunting her brother. Beside them, a woman, dressed in an old t-shirt and tight jeans, held the young child—probably about fourteen or sixteen months old. Not a baby, but not quite a full-fledged toddler. Mercifully, the woman turned away from the violent scene so that he wouldn't see his mother fight against her captors.
Carly took in every detail of the scene. She focused on Jamie's face, and the face of her son, and the beautiful iron gates behind them. Carly recognized the house immediately—Edgington's. As she stayed focused on Jamie, Carly let go of David and allowed the scene to accelerate through time. She witnessed the wolves who held her, and others, rape Jamie, all while her son was in the next room of the squalid cabin. Where Jamie was held wasn't in Edgington's mansion proper, but a little cabin outside, probably old slave quarters. It looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in years—beer cans and old pizza boxes littered every surface, including the edge of the bed where they assaulted her. Finally, Carly felt time slow again as the scene stabilized. Jamie was reunited with her son, and they were locked in a large closet within the cabin. The young woman had pulled clothes down from the closet rack and dressed herself as well as she could.
Pulling at the two of them, and willing them to join her in the plane, Carly tried to call them to her side, but she couldn't move them. After two or three tries, Carly became frustrated and remembered how she traveled along the smoke while she and Eric watched Christophe's paintings crackle on the bonfire. Soon, Carly felt the same weightlessness, but much greater volume. She felt herself go beneath the floor and through the gaps in the windows until she found the closet that held Jamie. When Jamie saw the smoke flooding under the door, she gathered up her sleeping son and started to scream, backing all the way to the rear of the closet and pulling clothes down off their hangers in an effort to block its streaming. Carly enveloped the two—Jamie and her son—in smoke and remembered the cabin of the plane.
When Carly opened her eyes, she held the unconscious bodies of Jamie and her young son. David, still restrained, was shaking, completely silent.
"Hey, um," Carly called to the flight attendant, "could you give me a hand here?"
When the other woman emerged from behind the partition, she let out another yelp, "What! What happened? Where did they come from?"
Groaning beneath their weight, Carly said, "It doesn't really matter. Can you get them off of me? Maybe you could cut him loose too?"
Jamie was un-movable, dead weight to the two women. Once David was cut free, however, he moved his sister easily, still grasping her son tightly, over to a set of seats across the narrow aisle in the cabin.
As the flight attendant retrieved a vial of smelling salts so that they could awaken Jamie and assess her condition, Eric sprang out of his travel coffin. Carly hadn't realized they'd flown straight into the sunset.
"Carly," Eric's voice did not conceal his irritation or worry, "what have you been doing?"
Standing to face him, Carly put her hands on her hips and said, "What I needed to do, Mr. Northman."
Eric raised his eyebrow and then smiled at her. "Obviously." Gathering her up into his arms, Eric whispered, "Are you all right?"
Carly stretched up to kiss him and said, "Do I still taste human?"
After a long kiss, Eric said, almost sadly, "No, you don't. But you're magnificent, delicious, and you're mine."
"Thank you," Carly replied as she kissed him again and drew him into the seat beside her. Pointing at the werewolf, Carly explained, "This is David Retton, and he's a werewolf who was sent to kidnap me to trade for his sister, Jamie," Carly pointed to the young woman and child, "and her son."
Jamie and the baby stirred because of the smelling salts, and then Jamie gasped when she saw her brother. "Where am I? Is this heaven?"
"No, 25,000 feet," Eric said in a dead-pan tone. "You're traveling by plane to New Jersey with me and my beloved, Carly, who I believe has just retrieved you from some kind of captivity."
"I don't know," Jamie started rattling off, "those friends of Cooter's, they put us in this big-ass closet, and then I saw smoke coming in under the door, and I thought we would suffocate. And now we're in a plane. Did the cabin burn down?"
"No," Carly answered. "You're fine and there was no fire." Directing her attention to Jamie's brother, Carly said, "David, you need to sit beside your sister." Touching her lover's face gently, Carly said, "I'm really tired, can you do the honors for them and for the flight attendant? Just let them think we stopped and picked them up at the airport in Jackson?"
Eric glamoured all three of the adults and the toddler, who quieted along with his mother, in one batch and held them silent for a few minutes until Carly and Eric decided how they were going to dispose of the three werewolves in New Jersey. "I think they can stay at my mom's."
"Out of the question, Carly," Eric denied imperiously. "I will not put your mother or her staff at risk. I'll pay for a motel for them for a month and give them a small stipend. Since David is a mechanic, perhaps we can get him a job in New Jersey under another name. David, what do you do?"
David replied without coming entirely to consciousness. "I'm a mechanic, sir. Large engines; airplanes, tractors, diesel and gas."
"Jean-Jacques should have connections at Teterboro. When I call him, I'll ask." Eric stroked Carly's hair to comfort her as she laid her head on his shoulder.
Rubbing her cheek against Eric's neck, Carly contemplated the change she felt taking hold in her. As Friagabi predicted, her life as a human being had come to an end. No longer did she feel bound by time or space, or bound by the inevitability of death—which she had continued to feel, even after she had been told that she would be immortal. "How do you cope with it, Eric?" Carly asked quietly. "How do you cope knowing the only way you'll meet your end is by violence?"
Eric embraced her tightly and drew her up into his lap. "I plan every day as if it were a battle—and I plan to be their undoing before they get to me. I think of every moment as a puzzle. The world is a challenging maze that I navigate, outwitting my competition, watching it expand into the distance. Every day, our world changes, Carly, and I change along with it."
Startling suddenly, Carly met Eric's gaze, "Please, bite me. I need to know you can still feed from me. I couldn't bear it if you couldn't feed from me."
Eric touched her face gently, extended his fangs, and bit her neck. Carly felt him draw her blood into him, and sensed as it it filled his mouth and traveled into his body. Eric moaned quietly as he pulled away from her, his eyes heavy-lidded, his groin hardened, and his chest relaxed beneath her. "Eternity...you taste of eternity and raw magic, Carly. I am the luckiest creature in all the world."
Kissing passionately, the two of them rubbed and caressed while Carly's blood massaged Eric within. When they finally pulled away from one another, Eric begged, "Take my blood, Carly. I want to be within you as I feel you within me."
After biting into his wrist, Eric pressed his bloody forearm against Carly's mouth and she sucked, nibbled, and drank eagerly at his wound. While his blood flowed down her throat, Carly saw images from Eric's life pass before her mind's eye. Dismissed without consideration, the scenes of Eric hunting and feeding disappeared, but the images of him sitting and talking with Godric remained, as did the irrepressible sensation of Eric's love for his maker and for his child. When Carly pulled her lips away, she smiled, and said, "We need to get back to Godric and Pam as soon as we're rid of Himmler. You probably don't want to be far from them."
The two lingered in their embrace until the plane began to descend. Eric fastened the werewolves' seat belts as well as the flight attendant's and then returned to Carly's side. "Thank you, Carly, for understanding."
"I can feel how happy you are to have Godric nearby again," Carly said quietly.
Smiling, Eric said, "I am happy to see him happy as well. I feared that I would lose him when he first arrived. Some of the elders have been known to meet the sun because of despair and ennui."
"I wish Russell felt some ennui," Carly sighed, but then felt Eric stiffen.
"Perhaps," he replied sullenly, "but I would prefer to avenge my family rather than watch him destroy himself."
"Do you have a preferred method? Or can I help?" Carly asked.
Eric squeezed her hand and said quietly, "We must see, beloved. You may be my best weapon, but I dread endangering you."
"What if the Authority destroys him?"
Eric shook his head. "I don't believe they will be able to. If they wish to, I would anticipate they would require a group of elders to do it. Thalia and Godric are the strongest of their age, but there are few who approach Russell's antiquity—at least that I know of."
With a sudden insight, Carly sat up straight and said, "I'll find out if there are any more ancient—Friagabi should know who they are and where we can find them. If any are from the same line as the Ancient Pythoness, they might be willing to help."
Eric kissed her forehead and said, "That's a good idea. This week will be difficult for us, but now that you're free of your limitations, you should feel more comfortable with your abilities and with your place in the world."
"Limitations?" Carly laughed. "My human limitations?" With her transformation into a valkyrie complete, Carly had no idea what to expect. Would she need to eat, or use the restroom, or would she do those things just for fun? Obviously, her father had been average enough to "pass" as human, except for the peculiar thing about photographs.
"Yes, my dear. You are now much more than you were."
With a small chuckle, Carly said, "More than I was...but more what?"
"We shall see. Your aunt will know, as I presume your mother may as well. Perhaps Jean-Jacques will have insights to share."
Until the plane descended into Teterboro airport, Eric and Carly sat wound in a tight embrace that allowed Carly to draw comfort from her lover. As the plane pulled into the gate, Eric roused the glamoured the co-passengers and the flight attendant, who returned to puttering around the cabin in preparation for their disembarkation. Eric, meanwhile, began his chain of phone calls intended to find a perch for David and his sister.
"Carly," David asked quietly, "what's going to happen to us?"
Scrutinizing the three wolves, Carly considered the likeliest possibilities for their future. As she examined Jamie's visible fear and distrust, Carly foresaw a bleak future for her. The likeliest scenario, Carly knew, was that Jamie would hook up with another unsuitable man who would misuse her and saddle her with another unplanned and unwanted child. Before Carly and Eric abandoned them to their own devices, Carly would advise that David take some legal responsibility for his nephew, so that the child had some stable influence in his life.
"David," Carly responded, "Eric will set you up in a motel for a month, but you'll need to get a job."
"No," Eric interrupted as he hung up his phone. "You have a position if you're willing to swear your fealty to the king of New York, who controls this area as well. He agreed to consider you as a part of his own personal flight crew."
Shock clear on his face, David smiled, "Yes, please, thank you, sir. I'm grateful."
"You should be," Eric said as he leaned forward menacingly. "You should fall to your knees before my beloved, because I would have eviscerated you for even looking at her." Turning his attention to Jamie, Eric said, "But you, woman, before you leave this airplane, will tell me everything you can about Edgington's wolves."
"I only knew Cooter before they took us," she started to cry. "They told me they worked for an old vampire, but I never saw him, ever." Grasping her son to her chest, Jamie sobbed, "They hurt me, mister, I didn't do anything to help them."
As Jamie blubbered, Carly peered into her mind and found nothing that undermined her claims. During her entire captivity, she'd been held in at the edge of Edgington's vast plantation—dilapidated old slave quarters that had been nominally restored for share-croppers in the 1920s and that were now held together by decaying wall-paper.
"She doesn't really know anything, Eric," Carly counseled.
Gripping her hand quickly before releasing it, Eric said, "Then you are your brother's problem. You're lucky Carly took pity on him and didn't slaughter him on sight."
Jamie gasped slightly before whispering, "Thank you," to Carly.
Eric instructed David on his new circumstances. Representatives from Jean-Jacques would be coming shortly to relocate David's family to a rent-by-the-week motel on the edge of Bergen, where he'd be provided with one of the automotive discards from Jean-Jacques's humans.
Once they were all off the plane—a motley group with the tall, kingly vampire and his tall, imposing mate, along with a barely dressed young wolf-woman grasping hold to her son desperately, cowering in the shelter of her brother's shadow—a large panel-van approached, followed by a non-descript tan Buick.
A short African man stepped out of the Buick and approached Eric. "I've come for the wolves. Jean-Jacques asks if you wish to have any dominion over them?"
"None," Eric replied without emotion.
The African nodded. "Then you have no responsibility for them. And they must come with me."
Without any further greeting or briefing, Jean-Jacques's agent returned to the Buick, where he waited beside the open car door.
Before he retreated to the waiting car, David fell to one knee before Carly and said, "I submit to you and am grateful for your mercy."
The wolf waited for Carly to extend some blessing, but she stood dumb before him until Eric prompted her. "He waits for you to release him to his new master, Carly."
She looked to her vampire with some confusion. "What?"
"You spared his life, so you're his master, Carly." Eric shrugged dismissively before adding, "He belongs to you, so you must release him to serve Jean-Jacques."
With disbelief coloring her speech, Carly said, "David, I release you into Jean-Jacques's service. Be loyal and honest, and I'm certain you will come to no harm."
"Thank you," the wolf acknowledged before grasping his sister's arm. As they reached the car, Jamie looked over her shoulder fearfully toward Carly.
"I give her two years, Carly," Eric prophesied. "She'll be dead within two years. I told Jean-Jacques so some provision can be made for the cub."
Hoping for some affirmation, Carly asked, "Did I do the right thing saving her?"
Eric kissed her forehead after wrapping his arm around her shoulders and said, "You did what a kind being does. I wouldn't have done it, but I don't have your heart. I simply would have killed them all, although the cub would make an interesting pet."
"Eric!" She looked at him with shock, unclear whether he joked.
He smiled sardonically and added, "Once he was house-trained, at least. Let's get to my place."
In order for Jean-Jacques to maintain plausible deniability, they were going to stay at Eric's apartment, which would provide them safe haven and protect Edna and Abdullah from any risks. Eric refused to endanger her mother or her dear friend in any way. Although they had a skeleton of a plan, neither of them knew how it would unfold and what risks they were undertaking.
Once Himmler was safely stowed in the apartment, Carly and Eric freshened up and headed to Jean-Jacques's townhouse. Jean-Jacques's pleasant, although armed, butler Malcolm chauffeured them across town toward the townhouse and the three chatted pleasantly on the way across town.
"We've been very busy this week, Mr. Northman," Malcolm mentioned casually. "My king has been receiving vampires from outside the kingdom every day, even monarchs."
"Really?" Eric prompted. "Any southern monarchs of note? Jean-Jacques told me last we talked that he didn't expect any visitors from our region."
Malcolm looked into the rear-view mirror with a meaningful glance. "And we don't, although there has been some concern that Mississippi has contacted the king for permission to enter the city."
"Indeed," Eric answered dispassionately as he watched the buildings pass by.
They pulled in front of the townhouse, and Malcolm escorted them to the door, looking over his shoulder suspiciously the whole time. Once admitted to the house, Carly heard her mother and Abdullah talking excitedly with Jean-Jacques as their voices approached. By the time they'd reached the new arrivals, another—Arianna—joined from upstairs.
"Mon amis," Jean-Jacques extended his arms toward Eric and Carly. As with their first meeting, Jean-Jacques drew Eric into a firm embrace and gave him a long kiss that still seemed overly-affectionate to Carly, even though she now knew that Jean-Jacques kept the same vows of celibacy, charity, and humility that he followed in his human life as a bishop, even though that ended over a millennium ago.
Within a few moments, Jean-Jacques released Eric and turned to admire Carly.
"Ma belle, your aunt told me that you had come into your own, but I was not prepared." He placed his right hand over his heart, bowed slightly, and added, "You are as magnificent and awe-inspiring as she."
Carly couldn't help but chuckle, even though she could tell he was deadly serious. "Really? It's that clear that I've changed?"
He nodded gravely, yet admiringly, "To these old eyes, indeed. Your mother will tell us what she sees as soon as I have greeted you properly." After that elaborate greeting, Jean-Jacques planted a kiss on Carly's lips, which she saw him lick inquisitively as he drew away. "Yes, indeed, you are much changed, for the better I wager."
Once her obligation to New York's monarch was discharged, Carly embraced her mother and asked, "Do you see what they're talking about?"
Edna shook her head sorrowfully, even though she smiled broadly at her daughter. "You look beautiful, Carly. You remind me even more of your dear father," Edna looked at Jean-Jacques and tilted her head in confusion, "but I'll admit I don't see a dramatic change in you from your last visit. You seem much more relaxed and much stronger. But, more than anything, you seem to carry yourself like your dad did."
Carly could see her mother's eyes mist over, so she hugged her tightly again. Abdullah kissed her hand, and as he let it fall to her waist level, she felt her Syrian friend slip a ring box into her hand. "My precious friend, I'm so happy to see you and so grateful for you to be at my show. But Jean-Jacques says that we must leave you to business," Abdullah intoned the word ominously, "and that we must wait until tomorrow to enjoy your company."
Once her mother and Abdullah were gone, Arianna—who had remained silent throughout the initial greetings—the two vampires, and Carly repaired into Jean-Jacques's library.
"I expect you had a good journey, my friends," Jean-Jacques began an unrelated conversational thread, "and that you are not too taxed by your charge?"
Arianna interrupted. "Before you begin, Jean-Jacques, may I welcome my niece more appropriately? She knows little of our true ways. Now that I see she has completed her transformation, I would like to greet her properly."
Jean-Jacques rotated his wrist in a gracious gesture and said, "Of course."
Striding slowly toward Carly, Arianna extended her arms, with her palms upward in an offertory pose. Carly responded instinctively and covered her aunt's hands with her own, although their palms did not meet. Instead, through the gap between them, energy surged back and forth. Along with that energy, Arianna shared her inward essence with her niece. Transmitted to Carly, memories and visions of Arianna's siblings, of her mother, of the surging north sea and the spectacular fjords and plains, rose and blossomed. In turn, Carly shared all she had, in her deepest psyche, with her aunt: her inexpressible love for Eric—so sudden and unexpected, but now so eternal and durable—along with a childhood of maternal adoration punctuated by self-loathing and anxiety. Her lifetime of memories that were not her own, her confusion about her deepest self, all that troubled her poured away and became transformed in her aunt's hands.
Somehow now greater than she was, Carly retreated from the overpowering intimacy and turned to face Eric, who now stood shaken, leaning against an elaborately carved cabinet. Awe emanated from his face, and when Carly looked from Eric to Jean-Jacques, she saw the same expression, elaborated by Jean-Jacques's pose—his hand placed over his heart.
"What?" Carly asked quietly, staring back and forth from one to the other.
Eric gained his footing and moved tentatively toward his lover. "Vampires rarely see such displays of raw magic, Carly. We are humbled—" Eric winked rakishly— "although the pride that you are mine undermines that humility considerably."
Jean-Jacques added, "Perhaps you should know what we saw, sweet child." Reaching across the the distance that separated them, Jean-Jacques grasped her hand. "You see within us, yes, so see for yourself."
Carly concentrated and at once Jean-Jacques's memory played out before her: the two women stood, light in the full spectrum of the rainbow reflecting back and forth between their hands until it spilled over and encircled them in a rapid cyclone.
"No wonder you were astonished, Eric," Carly said as she released the king's hand.
Arianna continued, "True valkyries share with one another that way each time they meet. We've cemented our connection to one another, my beloved kinswoman. We are all grateful you have come to us."
"Thank you, Arianna. I wasn't sure what it would mean to be entirely valkyrie, but I think I'll be okay." Carly smiled at her aunt. "Although, I don't know what life will be like."
With a serious face, Arianna said, "Compassion is more important than anything else, Carly, especially for yourself, since you must never be roused to anger. You are called to do justice, Carly, not revenge."
Eric snorted. "There's a difference?"
Jean-Jacques nodded and sighed, "Yes, my friend. Revenge takes our eyes from the good—from the true, eternal good that links us all together—" Jean-Jacques paused, either moved himself, or for effect— "while justice returns our attention back to the good, realigns us with what is harmonious and balanced."
Drawing Carly toward him, with his arm around her waist, Eric said meditatively, "Then are our plans for our unwilling guest sound?"
"Yes," Jean-Jacques motioned for them to sit, "we must discuss him. I notified two acquaintances of mine who might simplify your task."
"The Mossad agents?" Carly inquired.
Jean-Jacques nodded. "Yes. Eric told me you planned to secure some evidence of Himmler's identity, so that you might expose him."
"You believe they might have something useful?"
With a sly smile, Jean-Jacques responded. "They had something useful, but they have given it to me, for you."
Walking over to the chest that had supported Eric earlier, Jean-Jacques removed a small box and handed it to Carly. "I believe all you need is within."
Carly opened the box, where she discovered Himmler's last issued passport from 1942. Although "Henry Welkin" wore his hair differently and had shaved, he was still clearly the man in the old photograph. The box also held an account of a detailed physical examination, which enumerated his identifying marks and all his measurements, including caliper measurements of his skull so detailed Carly could have used them to reconstruct his face.
"This is amazing," Carly's voice—low and measured—held her admiration. "Thank you, Jean-Jacques. All we need to do is secure an outlet."
"Yes, indeed." Eric steepled his fingers as he considered the options. "Do you have any connections with media, Jean-Jacques?"
Carly added quickly, before the king could answer, "This could backfire terribly, though." Carly imagined the scenarios. If Himmler revealed himself, but wasn't penitent, then he could inspire neo-Nazis and reinvigorate anti-Semites and racists around the world. Worst of all, he might provide new recruits for Russell Edgington's strange vampire-supremacist ideology or even inspire a cult among vampire-obsessed humans. Alternatively, the revelation that vampires could provide the worst among humans with eternal life could amplify existing anti-vampire sentiment.
Jean-Jacques nodded seriously and answered both questions simultaneously. "I understand your reticence, Carly, but I have faith in your abilities—and your aunt's support." Turning his attention to Eric, he added, "I've been cultivating a young reporter at CNN with whom I've been favorably impressed. In fact, I'm considering making her my progeny."
"That's quite an endorsement, your majesty." Eric was favorably impressed, but he remained contemplative, as did the rest of them.
Finally, after about five minutes, Carly stood and said, "Okay. If we have the identification, and we have a willing reporter, why are we waiting?"
"Carly, I do not believe we have reason to wait, although I am expecting Edgington's partner and progeny Talbot to arrive tomorrow evening. If we act before Angelis's arrival, we run the risk of Edgington accompanying him to New York." Jean-Jacques strolled across the room, deep in thought, before adding, "I have a responsibility to the entire city, not just the vampires."
"Of course," Eric concurred. "So we need to establish a plan for disposing of Edgington if he arrives in New York and seeks retribution."
"He will only seek retribution, I believe," Jean-Jacques suggested, "if Himmler reveals his identity. If Edgington becomes a target for human anger, he's likely to lash out against humans and vampires alike." Jean-Jacques shifted his cuff-links and said forcefully, "If we could dispose of him with the least loss of life, all would benefit."
Carly's mind raced from one idea to another. Apart from Godric's stories, her own visions, and what she'd seen of him herself, Carly knew very little about Edgington, his motivations, or his likely responses to any attack. She knew that he was covetous, greedy, gluttonous—she knew he longed to walk in the sun, that he sought out fairies that he could breed forever, just as he had his werewolves. But she also knew—from encountering his mentally deficient werewolves—that Edgington practiced bad husbandry. The werewolves who served him were idiots.
From that fact, she inferred that he liked to think of himself as all-powerful but was too lazy to keep an eye on the projects he'd begun. He was doing the same thing with Himmler. Edgington had turned him, succored him through his early days as a vampire, and then let him loose on the populace, but didn't communicate regularly with him. He relied entirely on the bond he shared with his offspring, whom he likely considered to be "disposable."
Perhaps Edgington, then, wouldn't be as incensed about Himmler's confession and potential demise as they thought. Perhaps, if Himmler revealed Edgington's identity, the king would simply slip away along with his precious collection of ancient artifacts.
"I think we should move tonight," Carly decided. "Do you think it's possible to notify the Authority about Edgington? Can they be on standby?"
Jean-Jacques seemed concerned and hesitated. "I fear that the Authority might be just as much of a threat to human safety as Russell Edgington. As frightening as the prospect may be, I believe we should wait to see how he reacts to Himmler's confessions. Do you have a plan beyond having Himmler reveal himself?"
"No," Eric answered. "I believe that Carly hopes to fill him with guilt so that he throws himself on human authorities."
"Not guilt," Arianna intervened, "but suffering. My people nearly went mad during that decade with the slaughter the Nazis and Stalin effected. The whole century was a nightmare, but that one sliver was so particularly senseless it was maddening. We will channel all that suffering directly to Carly, who then can fill Himmler with it until he is desperate for release."
"We can't do that here, though." Carly considered Edgington's response and realized that Jean-Jacques couldn't provide a location. "I'll need to be alone with him." Combing through her memories, Carly settled on the one place in New York City where she could imagine such a grave and meaningful action as transferring the collective horror of the Holocaust into the mind of one man. "I'll go to my family's mausoleum. It's big enough and entirely private, but it's also in Brooklyn." Carly turned to Arianna and asked, "Would you mind going there with me—directly?"
Arianna smiled at her niece. "How many times have you transported yourself?"
"A few times, but I'm not concerned. It feels like the best thing to do." Carly found that her confidence surprised her, but she didn't hesitate. The idea of moving herself directly out to the familiar family crypt at Green-Wood cemetery, where generations of her family were tightly packed into a marble edifice, seemed perfectly safe and reasonable.
"Can you call your reporter and ask her to be at their offices?"
Jean-Jacques nodded his assent. "Yes, of course. Her name is Soraya. I'll make sure she's waiting for you at their Times Square office."
Carly embraced her beloved and kissed him. "I'll see you soon?"
Eric looked her directly in the eye and said, "Do not let him hurt you, Carly. And remember, there's nothing you can do to change what has already happened."
After another kiss, Carly grasped her aunt's hand and transported both of them to the Brooklyn crypt. Their eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, although the interior of the crypt enjoyed a little light from an old stained glass window that bore their Dutch coat of arms, granted to the first ancestor to settle in New York City. Carly wondered inwardly, recalling that Jean-Jacques knew her family since their first days in New York. Of course, he had no idea that the old Knickerbocker family would eventually yield a valkyrie.
Breathing deeply, Carly asked Arianna, "How much of this will I have to feel?"
"All of it, I'm afraid," Arianna grimaced, "as will I. But once you direct it into him, you will not be able to recall the experience. You should prepare yourself for an unimaginable horror while it lasts. You must," she gripped Carly's wrist tightly, "finish the process and transfer these memories to him, or you will suffer. I doubt you will be able to function."
For a moment, Carly wondered why she'd chosen this path. Feeling herself filled with power, she knew she could kill Himmler in a myriad of ways. She could transport him directly into the sunrise—send him into the rocky desert of Morocco where there would be nowhere he could hide. Her simplest choice, of course, would be just to stake him, since he was still in the suspended state that she'd left him. But this path—the path where he might see something approaching justice, where vampires could be perceived as ethical beings that had a sense of right and wrong—refused her easy passage.
"Okay, let me get him here." Carly closed her eyes and imagined Eric's apartment and the silver-lined coffin where Himmler lay. She enveloped him in her energy and summoned him to her. When she opened her eyes, he lay before her on the granite slab that rested over the van Heusen patriarch.
Himmler remained still, his eyes closed, and Carly could see how drawn he'd become even after only a couple of days of fasting. Seeing his debilitated state—seeing his hunger—Carly knew that she had to have everything ready before she touched him.
"Arianna, how do we start?"
"Are you ready?" Her aunt asked gently, suggesting Carly could still find another way to resolve the situation.
"It's what needs to be done."
"Then open yourself to us all, Carly." Arianna held out her hand, which Carly took without hesitation before closing her eyes. Within seconds, Carly felt all of them—all of her people, the valkyries, the guides to the slaughtered, the conduits who spread energy throughout the universe, who transformed death to life—embrace her. They became one mind, one spirit, and her consciousness extended through each one of them. They were the cauldron, they were the vortex of life and death that circulated through humanity, through the earth itself, extending into all nine realms. With this realization, she tugged at the thread of memory, until it unwrapped itself and began to unwind.
The first sensation was fear—a child's fear at the sound of broken glass that presaged the sound of boots on her father's skull. Next came the odors—the smells of burning books and burning flesh. The sensations of skin touching skin—cold and shriveled, lice-ridden, desperate for a shower—preceded the feelings of drowning, of desperate attempts to catch one's breath, before drowning in gas. And these feelings multiplied, and expanded, punctuated by the sounds of revolvers emptying bullets into heads lined along trenches dug by the hands that would soon die. The cries of mothers and children silenced in darkened chambers, or smothered in drafting railcars. And multiplied again, and again, into the millions.
Added to the sensations of bodies that suffered concussion from shells, and the heat of burning buildings, and the impact of tank shells, multiplied, again, and again.
When Carly doubted she could feel any more and still recognize herself among all the minds, all the memories, she touched Himmler's face—just as she'd instructed him she would to awaken him from his fugue. At the moment her fingers met his skin, the millions of lives she felt disappearing, without logic or justification, rammed into his mind. A mere vampire—just a shell of a being—he was unable to bear it. As the last bits of memory passed through her and into him, he cried out: "Mein Gott!"
Himmler shook and blubbered, and Carly watched as blood poured from his eyes and covered his hands. The two valkyries watched the Nazi writhe in pain, bathing in his sulfurous guilt until he reached some equilibrium.
"Yes." Himmler said quietly. "It is not enough, but I must surrender myself."
"You look awful," Arianna commented. "Let's find a hose." The elder valkyrie grabbed hold of her niece and the Nazi and transported them outside the crypt, where they sought a landscaping shed.
They soon found one and Himmler washed himself off until he was more presentable.
Still numb from her experience, although Arianna was right and she couldn't recall any details, Carly asked, "So where do you want to surrender?"
Himmler looked around the landscape absently and then looked at the two women. "I must give my testimony, but I do not know if I am even still considered a combatant. Perhaps I could lay some of the myths to rest? Perhaps I can silence the deniers by coming forward." As if coming to a conclusion, he said, "Yes. If you could take me to a reporter, I will tell my story, and then surrender myself to the Israelis for trial."
Carly sighed, glad that he had arrived at almost the same plan they had. Somehow, she doubted that he would be truly contrite, even after experiencing the full extent of the horror that he had helped to cause.
"You'll want these." Carly handed him the identifying documents Mossad had provided to Jean-Jacques. "Now, we're going to go to CNN, and you're going to ask for a reporter named Soraya."
His eyes seemed on the verge of tears again. "Will you stay with me?"
"No," Carly's voice gathered strength. "You have to talk to her on your own."
Himmler nodded and extended his hand. "Shall we? At last, I meet a valkyrie, but I am not destined for Valhalla, but for shame and oblivion. It was all so wrong, Ms. Michael."
Carly grasped his hand and sent them to Times Square, visualizing as she transported them the din of human traffic so that they might fade into the crowd without drawing notice to themselves. Once inside the CNN lobby, Himmler asked for Soraya, who immediately took him upstairs for an interview.
As Carly left the surprisingly small lobby, she realized that no fewer than three video cameras had captured her image. Wonder if I'll be like dad now? No more photos...
With the memory of her father's blurry photos in her mind, Carly stepped into the revolving door and emerged back in Jean-Jacques's library.
"I guess we wait now," she said as she sat on Eric's lap, resting her head on his shoulder, happy to be reunited with her viking.