Willie's eyes scanned the faces of her children, their spouses, and her eldest grandson. All of them had remained unfazed by the involved scientific explanation of Noah's uncanny resemblance to the family patriarch and the past king. The outrageous and unbelievable were nothing new to them. They were werewolves after all; caught somewhere between being human and wolf, existing in dual worlds of man and beast and belonging with neither exclusively.
She had also told them how she came into servitude to the priest as well. Their expressions transformed from pensive to angry upon learning that their mother had been black mailed, threatened with their demise, in order to force her to aid the unscrupulous priest. She could see in the way her sons gripped the weapons attached to the belts at their waists that they would like to run out and skewer the man before slitting him from his navel to his Adam's apple, freeing his internal organs from their proper place in his torso. She folded her hands behind her back, pacing the length of the large rectangular room usually reserved for private meetings with the Gypsy King pertaining to matters of politics. Tonight it was the place for a family discussion of no less importance.
A tense silence filtered through the room further thickening the stifling atmosphere of boiling anger. The men practiced the highest degree of restraint, remaining still and gripping their weapons until their knuckles turned white and gritting their teeth to withhold nasty words. Her daughters, on the other hand, became quite vocal. Speaking rapidly in Romani, heaping curses on the priest's head while disavowing his existence, they each spat on the stone floor in turn as a final statement on their feelings for the man.
Willie studied her surroundings while allowing them the time needed to effuse their anger. This room reminded her of the audience chambers in Vlad's castle where he had held cloistered meetings with his generals or royal visitors. She had spent many hours in that room preparing for campaigns which resulted in many victorious battles adding to Vlad's power, fortune, and fame. Her fingers gingerly slid over the bumpy edges of the rough cut stones taken straight from the face of the mountain and fitted together to create strong, impenetrable walls. The floor under her feet was the same kind of stone which had been rubbed smooth to allow for a fitting surface on which to walk. Vlad had paid a fortune for a floor of wooden planks to be installed over the plain stone floor in his castle. All at the whim of his selfish wife, Ilona.
Music rang in her ears when a memory from long ago started to seep into her conscious mind. People were dancing across that finely crafted, fantastic wooden floor. Servants dressed in uniforms of beige and brown carried trays of food and wine to offer the guests garbed in eye popping shades of red, green, purple, blue, and orange. The servants in earthen tones were quite a contrast the rich and aristocratic peacocks who pranced around and talked nonsense to each other. As if the separation of class and their place in society needed any further distinction, the colors made those differences glaringly evident.
Willie shuddered when a laugh, high pitched and acerbic, rang through her head as loudly as it had that night so many centuries ago. Next she recalled being on her knees cleaning up spilled wine; the wine that Ilona had caused her to spill after purposely toppling the tray carried in her hands. Ilona had ordered her to clean up the wine before it destroyed the expensive floor that had been a gift from her precious husband Vlad. The liquid had made a terrible crimson stain like blood on the light colored skirt of her uniform. The only thing uglier was that stain left on her heart by the embarrassment and shame she suffered that night. She sighed, pushing away the unwelcome invasion of the past into her present.
Willie opened her hands, staring at the palms as if they might be stained with the blood she had spilled over her lifetime. Blood she had drawn and lives she had taken in the name of her Lord and Master Vlad Dracul III. Then there was the blood she had taken to sustain herself, to maintain her immortality. Voices called to her from the past, the screams of those she murdered tortured her mind.
"Mama? Mother!" Connor yelled to get her attention. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she lied with remarkable sincerity.
Returning her thoughts to the current situation, she cast one more glance about the room. There were thrones and banners like in any other royal audience chambers. Her children had taken the clan leadership in the distressingly mainstream direction of any monarchy. She did not like that at all. Things had changed in a way that bothered her because it reminded her of the society from which she had come, where she had been a servant held captive both mind and body. The gypsy clan she knew would never have conducted themselves in such a way. The gypsy people embodied freedom of thought and will. They held their liberty dear to their hearts, acting on it to live and love as they pleased while creating one big cohesive family unit. Above all things, they had always been a family. There had never been any distinctions of class or power among their people. There was no separation between those in leadership or the ones being led. Yet that had all changed.
Willie tried to keep an open mind and not instantly reject her son's divergent leadership techniques. Perhaps Connor had simply taken his initially unwanted role of king to heart and decided to lead his people in a new direction. Within wolf packs there was a definite and intricate hierarchy among the members. This chain of command not only determined social status but ones function, occupation so to speak, within the pack. Maybe he believed relying more on their feral nature, that of the wolf, would ensure their safety more so than attempting to act completely human and attempt to fit in 'normal' humans. In the past trying to fit in had never accomplished much because they remained to be shunned and hated by virtue of being gypsies alone without betraying any knowledge of their lupine side. His unique approach appeared to be working for the pack, affording them the luxury of safety while maintaining their freedom.
Willie studied her son, the King, the leader, the Alpha Wolf. His shoulders and back had broadened, becoming knotted with an abundance of muscle. He carried the burden of responsibility both physically and mentally. His wife, nearly as tall as him with silky black hair and eyes an attractive luminescent yellow like molten gold, aided him with carrying that weighty encumbrance. He had chosen a fitting political partner and a beautiful mate.
Her other sons, and sons-in-law, flanked Connor, standing at the ready to assist, to fight, to protect, not only their King but every member of the pack. Even now, while locked in private chambers for a family meeting, they stood in casual battle dress with leather vests and forearm guards over their thick protective clothing made of durable deer hide. Their hands rested on the swords or knives lashed to their waists or thighs. These were the generals, the commanders in charge of the warriors among them. Transforming into werewolves in order to protect the pack remained as a last resort like it had always been.
Her three daughters and the women Connor and Rafe had married, sat in high backed chairs, the thrones, positioned on the elevated platform at one end of the room. These women were the foundation on which the pack found stability and strength. They were the influential pillars of their society who supported their husbands and their people. They were the nurturers, the peace keepers, the glue that held their society together. These chosen women acted as the underlying strength of the group and as reinforcements to their husbands, unifying their families and their pack.
Willie felt like her heart might burst with pride when she looked at all of them. They had done well. Better than she could have imagined, and better than they would have done had she stayed. Of that fact she was convinced. Not only had they survived in her absence, but the pack, and her children, had flourished. That fact filled her with both jubilation and sadness.
Aware of her selfishness but giving into her self-pity anyway, she wallowed in her new found and miserable state of obscurity. They did not need her at all. They were more than capable of protecting themselves and their own without her. Although every mother wants their children to reach a state of independence and self-sufficiency, it's still an emotional stab to their tender maternal heart. She had thought too highly of herself believing they needed her to save them from the Priest. But she was their mother, and that's what mothers do: love and protect their children always. No matter what happens in their lives, no matter how old they get or where they go, they would always be her babies. The unmistakable feeling that she had become a hindrance, a millstone about their necks, hit her with sobering intensity like a slap to the face. In that moment, she realized she should not have come and could have possibly destroyed the peace and safety they had created for themselves.
"I shouldn't have come here." She gasped, immediately covering her mouth with her hand. She had not meant to allow her thoughts to take form in spoken words.
"What? What did you say, Mother?" Connor questioned her, shocked by what he had heard. He took swift, long strides, reaching her in seconds. "Why? Why would say such a thing?"
"I thought I was protecting you by acquiescing to the priest's threats. You are more than capable of protecting yourselves. You don't need me at all," she murmured, staring at the flat stones of the floor under her feet. She could not meet the piercing gaze of his crystalline silvery blue eyes that were exactly like those of his father.
"We'll always need you. You're our mother," he said. His embrace was firm but gentle like his words. "We're glad you're here. We've missed you."
"I have missed you as well. My heart has ached so much while being apart from you. But...I believe I have put you all in danger. I allowed that priest to play on my worst motherly fears. I shouldn't have brought him here. I shouldn't have come," she mumbled regretfully, turning away from him when he dropped his arms from around her.
"Mother," Addie spoke, her voice loud and full of conviction like her brother's. "You have not put us in any more danger than we were already in from the outside world. You know as well as anyone that peril and threat of death from outsiders had always been a part of our lives. It is nothing new."
"He could bring others. There are others. They've been waiting, watching...spying on you."
"Did you really think we didn't know?" Zev piped up next. He pushed off the wall on which he had been leaning to come closer to his mother. His golden brown eyes twinkled when he caught her gaze then winked at her. "Those men are nothing to worry about. They were given leave of their positions quite some time ago."
"You're giving us precious little credit for having good heads on our shoulders," Rafe added. Usually quiet, content to allow his siblings to do all of the talking, hearing his voice caught everyone off guard. He shrugged off their stunned stares and continued to speak to his mind to his mother. "Don't you think you and Dad taught us better than that? Dad passed on his extensive knowledge of herbs, both the medical and mystical uses. We know magic and enchantments. That is a gypsy tradition separate from our werewolf nature. Why would we embrace one and not the other? They live together in harmony, inseparable, like the two natures inside us. We use both to strengthen ourselves and to protect the pack." He took a deep breath as if to calm himself before moving to stand next to his mother. "Considering the predicament you're in Mother, I believe you are the one who needs our protection for once in your life. Why don't you let us take care of you for a change?"
"I'm sorry," she apologized, patting Rafe's cheek. "You're right. I didn't give any of you enough credit for the amazing people you have become. Please forgive a foolish mother for continuing to see you as her small children who need her instead the confident, resourceful adults you have become."
"Oh, Mama," Bevin and Feya exclaimed in unison. They elbowed past their siblings to throw their arms around her for a crushing hug. Those two spoke and acted as one like they did when the were children. They probably still finished each others sentences and knew the others thoughts without exchanging a word; the amazing gift of being one while also being two independent individuals, the special bond shared between twins.
Willie hugged and kissed each of her children, whispering words of love and adoration to them. Her children's lives had gone on without her and along the way they had grown into awe-inspiring adults who had not only taken charge of themselves but of the people entrusted to them. Life had progressed naturally and just as it should.
"What about this Father Anderson? We must decide what to do with him," Rafe announced, drawing his family's attention back to more pressing issues. "Surely he has suspicions that there is something wrong with his comrades. That has to be one of the reasons he's here."
"That and to find the location of the pack to kill you all," Willie said, her tone grim. "He might try to go back down the mountain to the town to contact reinforcements."
"We've put an enchantment on this mountain. That priest couldn't find his way back down if he had a compass and used the stars to navigate his route. He'd be doomed to wander the forest until he died of starvation," Addie informed her, patting her shoulder. "Don't worry, Mom. We've lived in peace and safety for a while now. We've grown quite fond of it. We don't intend to lose it so easily."
"We'll kill him first rather than let that happen," Zev threatened, unsheathing the long bladed knife secured at his waist and strapped to his thigh.
Willie recoiled without meaning to do so. She would never have guessed her laughing, care free youngest son would become a practiced and unrepentant killer. However, she knew he had become one out of necessity to protect everything and everyone he loved. Besides, who was she to judge being a killer herself?
"We also took an exceedingly winding path while leading all of you here. We doubled back and circled the mountain a few times while we were bringing you here," Connor confessed.
That explained why it took such an obscenely long time to reach their destination. She and her companions never would have arrived had someone not come after them to lead the way. They had only been able to sense the werewolves because they had allowed her and Noah to sense their presence.
"My crafty, little ones," she complimented them all, pressing her palm to Zev's tanned cheek that was dotted with darker brown freckles. Her baby boy was no longer the pale, clownish child teased mercilessly by his siblings and other members of the clan.
"What should we do with the Priest?" Rafe asked, folding his arms over his broad chest.
"Maybe we should drug him and place him in the dungeon for safe keeping," Willie suggested.
"Are you being serious?" Zev questioned her, raising an eyebrow. His mother had moments of offering up unexpected sarcastic humor. He could not be sure this wasn't one of those moments.
"There is a dungeon, isn't there? Every good castle must have a dungeon."
"What would we do with him after that?" Addie inquired testily to determine her mother's sincerity on the matter.
"I'm not sure." Willie shrugged unable to come up with an immediate answer. "I'm sure we can figure something out. The most important thing is to keep him contained and subdued. I'm not familiar with taking prisoners. Vlad never allowed such a thing."
"This is indeed a war," Connor confirmed.
"Our survival always has been a fight. Us against everyone else. Sometimes that included our own kind," Addie reminded him. "What about Vlad?"
"Alucard? I told him I was leaving. I did not give a definite time of my return."
Addie took one of her mother's hands between both of hers. "Then stay with us. We aren't little kids anymore, but we still need you. So do your grandchildren." Her eyes flicked toward her son Gannon, her mother's first grandchild, before returning to her mother's vibrant green eyes. "You have already missed so much of our lives and the lives of your grandchildren. Not to mention your friends that have died."
"Please stay!" the twins begged as a unified force.
"Mother, will you return to us?" Connor saw her open her mouth and rushed to continue speaking. "Not as our Queen but as our Mother only. Please..."
"I would like to..."
The way she allowed her words to trail off, her children sensed a but, a protest that she left unspoken. Before things became uncomfortable, Zev came to their rescue with a change of subject.
"What about this Noah person? What do we do with him?" Zev interjected.
"He's no threat to you," Willie assured them, confident in her statement. "He's one of you. A werewolf. A part of your father resides in him as well."
"Shall we vote here first to accept him into the pack? By a show of hands, who agrees to accept Noah Landon as one of us?" Connor raised his hand without hesitation.
"Not so fast, my husband and king. Shouldn't we wait to learn more about him?" suggested Connor's wife, Berta. She had no qualms taking on the role of devil's advocate to express concerns and ask questions that might otherwise remain unspoken. "What do we know about this man? Shouldn't we be allowed to spend time with him, to get to know him, before we make such an important decision?"
"I don't believe we should act on your mother's suggestion and appraisal of him alone," Felix, Addie's husband, said in support of sister-in-law's objection. He glanced at his former Queen standing beside the present King. He clicked his heels together and bowed like a soldier and loyal subject. "I apologize if I offended you, my Queen."
"I am no longer your Queen, Felix, don't be silly," she chastised him gently. "I have not been for some time and never will be again." She took Connor by the hand, squeezing it to show her support for him. "Only his declarations and decisions stand now. I am simply your mother."
"I could decide unilaterally to make Noah a member of the pack yet I am allowing this to be a decision among all of its members. In a week's time, I will ask not only the immediate family but everyone if they are willing to accept Noah as a member," he proclaimed diplomatically before a lively argument could ensue among family members. This was supposed to be a time of celebration not a time for family disagreements and hurt feelings.
"Well, with all of that serious business being done, I think we should all go join the party," Zev announced, heading for the door from across the room. In no uncertain terms, he declared this family meeting over before his brother could officially do so.
"I wholeheartedly agree with Zev. For once," Connor added, his face twisting into a perplexed expression.
Willie made a hasty exit behind her son following him through the dark halls of the castle to return to the ongoing celebration outside. She watched him run off to join a large group of his peers gathered around one of the multiple bonfires. As for her, she pulled her shawl tighter around her body while veering off in the opposite direction. She was searching for Noah.
Willie inhaled the brisk mountain air scented with pine and wood smoke. For the first time in an extremely long time, she felt free, unfettered by sadness or fear. She did not feel imprisoned by the hopeless, unattainable love that she had continued to chase through the centuries and continued to elude her. Alucard did not dominate her thoughts nor did her heart ache with yearning to be by his side. It was as if the spell cast on her by him had been miraculously been lifted.
Her body had been freed as well, loosed from the constraints of corsets and other tight fitting clothing. Soon after their arrival, she had bathed and traded her traveling clothes for a far more inviting outfit of a multi layered calico skirt and a deep maroon shirt with long flowing sleeves. She strolled aimlessly, halfheartedly searching for Noah while keeping an eye out for Father Anderson. Select members of the group had been tasked with keeping tabs on the priest while pretending to be his friendly and accommodating hosts. With any luck, he had gotten drunk and been tucked into bed hours ago. Noah had been allowed far more freedom, having to endure only the occasional watchful eyes cast his way by a sentinel or elder.
Bonfires blazed lighting up the night sky above with a red glow. Music floated through the air along with numerous voices raised in song. Some of the singing was melodious and pleasing. Others not so much being the droning voices of the hopelessly drunk. Some people formed circles around a fire, dancing hand in hand. In another place, dancers had taken a specific partner, choosing to devote their attention to only a singular person. Children frolicked about as if it were the middle of the day, indulging in games of tag or hide and seek. Other children had decided they were happier with a quieter activity gathering around the storyteller to listen intently to her tale. Smaller children lay asleep on blankets spread on the ground or in the laps of their parents.
Willie finally found Gannon sitting alone at one of the smaller fires on the outer edge of the raucous gaiety where things were quieter and less active. He lay flat on his back, staring up at the sky. The stars could be seen out here because the light from the single small fire near him was not so bright as to block them out.
He too had changed clothing for the more relaxed and colorful garb favored by the gypsies. His baggy black and white striped pants were paired with a bright red poet style shirt. She had teased him all he needed to complete his pirate ensemble was an eye patch.
Willie sat down on the opposite side of the fire from him. The grass remained dry and free of the dampness of the evening dew because of the heat which presently warmed her chilled body. She allowed her shawl to slip from her shoulders down to her elbows while her torso remained ensconced in the thick snow-white wool.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, gazing at him through the flames.
"Everything and nothing all at once. I'm trying to determine what to think. About myself. About you," he admitted, turning his head to look at her. "I must confess that I never really believed that I was werewolf. Honestly, I thought Father Anderson had made it up. The weird fantasy of a fanatical old priest who had finally gone off his rocker."
Willie snickered involuntarily at his frank assessment of the priest's mental state. Until recently, Noah held nothing but the greatest respect for his mentor. His veiled contempt had become unconcealed hatred as their journey progressed. She had no idea what had prompted his change in attitude toward Father Anderson nor did she care. The underlying anger directed at her had blown up and they had worked out their differences. The issue between him and the priest was theirs alone and none of her business.
"When I felt those other werewolves, when I met them..." He paused in his attempt to find the correct words. "I knew...I knew what he said was true. I'm not sure how to handle this."
"But you're learning more about who you are. That's good. Isn't it?"
"I suppose." He sat up before getting to his feet to walk over to her. He extended his hand toward her, waiting for her to take it.
Willie placed her hand in his to allow him to pull her to her feet in front of him. She studied his face when he stared down at her without saying a word. "What is it?"
"No longer than we've been here, the memories started coming to me again. They're becoming clearer, more vivid in content. From what I've seen, you're a good dancer," he murmured, sliding his hand across her lower back while taking her hand in his to position her in a dancer's stance. "My response has become less visceral and more about comprehending what I see. Your husband was a good dancer too."
"He was," she agreed, pressing her free hand lightly to the hard muscular curve of his shoulder. They began to move in a slow box step to the music of a violin being carried to them on the cold night wind.
"I've decided to incorporate his experience and knowledge into my own to create a truly unique life for myself."
"I think that's a wonderful idea." She smiled up at him when he repositioned her, switching to a more complicated maneuver that included a turn then a dip. A laugh bubbled up from her throat and out of her mouth. "Very nice. I see what you mean about taking his experience as your own."
"Why fight it when it's a part of me? Obviously I can't make it stop so I should make the best of it. Right?"
"I agree. I like this new attitude. You seem to be at peace finally."
"I am. About some things," he added. He stopped moving, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "There are some matters, those of the heart, which I am uncertain will ever be resolved."
Willie held her breath when he lowered his lips toward her. If he wanted to kiss her, she would allow it. Maybe it would be best for him to try a kiss and see that there was nothing there. When his soft lips pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, she inhaled in surprise. Not sure if she should be relieved or disappointed, she lay her head against his chest when he straightened back up and continued to move her around on their natural dance floor made of tall grass that tickled her calves before being trampled under her feet. Her heart beat faster when his big hand pressed to her upper back and flattened between her shoulder blades to encourage her to keep leaning against him.
Soon they were not dancing at all. They stood still by the fire in each others arms. The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the wood while it burned. At this moment in time, neither one wanted or expected anything more than the comforting embrace of a friend.