chapter five
Ash was right--he was eighteen.
Marianne wasn't sure what she was expecting of the leader of Circle Daybreak, but it certainly wasn't that. Perhaps she'd been holding out for someone more sinister-looking to go along with the house: flowing black cape, chalky white skin, a maniacal laugh, possibly even some shape shifting. But then again, maybe she'd read Dracula one too many times.
Instead, the figure waiting to welcome them in the entrance hallway was youthful, the blond hair falling unnoticed over one eye subtracting another year or two from his appearance, tall, statuesque, divinely handsome--but she supposed the last was a given, considering his undead status. She concluded her scrutiny of him by meeting his eyes, dark eyes that absolutely abolished any enduring notions of him being a teenager. Old eyes. But not only old. Commanding. Dependable. Like a seasoned general assessing a battlefield. He radiated a sense of control and aplomb that put her instantly at ease.
She liked him.
The woman at his side was, in the typical mode of soulmates, not his match, but his compliment. The light shining from the chandelier brought out warm golden tones in her fair hair and faded the color from her face, marking a stark contrast with the pink birthmark smudged across one cheek. What had once been girlish loveliness had ripened and refined into beauty with her forty-odd years of life, those usual signs of age only enhancing her appeal; tiny crows' feet at the creases of her eyelids and lines defining the broad boundaries of her smile hinted at a amiable personality and a healthy sense of humor, a person grown accustomed to happiness in this lifetime. And the ancient wisdom seated at the core of her gray eyes was much better suited to her body than it was to the boyish vampire.
"Marianne. Thierry," Ash said with a wave of his hand, his own skewed version of a suitable introduction.
Thierry actually swept a slight bow--but all the more impressive, he managed to look graceful in the process, no absurd grin ruined the action, no unnecessary bob of his head broke the fluency of the motion. It was utterly natural.
Which was, she reminded herself through her amazement, something to be expected of an immortal creature that had in all likelihood served in antique courts. Countless empires had risen and fallen, history had cycled on, and somehow this one vampire had survived the fallout, a silent witness to events that were now only found in textbooks. She was thunderstruck by the boundless possibilities of what he had watched unfold, what he had participated in. He had alive when the pyramids were being raised in Egypt. The seen the rule of Caesars, the Mongol hordes, the Renaissance, the French Revolution, the Civil War. Napoleon, Queen Elizabeth, Hitler and Stalin, Lincoln and Gandhi. He'd been a contemporary of everyone from Virgil and Homer to Edith Wharton and Sigmund Freud. Had he known Chaucer? What about Shakespeare? Byron, Percy, the Shelleys? Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, Gertrude Stein? Leo Tolstoy, Ernest Hemingway? Jane Austen, even?
A slight, amused smile crept across Thierry's lips as he waited expectantly on her response, and when Marianne become conscious that she'd delayed a few seconds too long mulling over her own thoughts, she scrambled frenetically for words, wondering fearfully if she was required to curtsey in return. What was the proper greeting to give the man whose memory you were desperate to pick through?
"Um, nice to meet you?"
Her nerves twisted the statement into a question, but Thierry didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he was far too courteous to be mortified on her part. His smile reached his eyes now, but he wasn't looking at her anymore, his gaze settling over her shoulder on her companion.
"You've proven again that you're one lucky vampire, Ash, I hope you realize that. She's quite a catch."
"Yeah," Ash rubbed vaguely at the back of his neck. "You can say that again." But he didn't look like he shared Thierry's mirth--more like he was recounting his bruises.
Perhaps Thierry might have had some response to that, but the fourth presence in the room was becoming impatient with the interruption, and made herself subtly known.
"Of course," Ash pronounced airily. "How could I forget? Marianne, may I present Lady"--here a wicked wink, suggesting some long-standing dispute between the two of them--"Hannah."
"Just Hannah," the older woman was quick to correct him. "My friends"--glare--"call me Hannah. What use is a title to me if any rogue off the street can use it?" She released Ash from her glower, returning her attention to the person she was more interested to hear from. "Oh, but you--"
Marianne was caught up abruptly in a brief, fierce hug. Instantly her muscles tensed at the unexpected contact, but after a moment she reminded herself of the five other strangers she had allowed into her life in the past few days, and she relaxed, squeezing Hannah's shoulders in response.
Hannah pulled back, shoving a fleeing strand of hair behind her ear as she laughed timidly. "I'm sorry," she said in way of explanation. "It's just been so long. And you--you look..." She hesitated, glancing past Marianne to Ash, but recovered immediately, turning her smile up another watt. "Great. Just like yourself."
Marianne managed some sort of abashed, noncommittal answer, uncertain of exactly what the praise meant. She'd never thought to ask--did she still look like Mary-Lynnette? If that was true, it must seem to them all like some seventeen-year-old ghost had wandered back onto their lives. Her appearance must be...unsettling...for everyone.
"But I'm skipping the obvious questions," Hannah was continuing eagerly. "How was the drive here? Goddess, I hope Ash didn't sing along with radio." She affected a dismayed expression. "He didn't, did he?"
"I'll have you know, there is absolutely nothing wrong with my--"
"Long," Marianne admitted, cutting Ash's objection short. "It was a long drive." She wrinkled her nose. "And stuffy. He refused to let me roll down the windows after we got off the highway."
"In case you haven't noticed, we're in a desert, Mare," he admonished. "Do you realize what all that sand and grit does to a leather interior?"
"Ash," Thierry said gravely, eyes twinkling. "I think Marianne's health is a priority that certainly ranks above the appearance of your car."
Marianne discovered herself grinning unconditionally at Hannah and Thierry, and them back at her. Teasing her soulmate was, she found, much more enjoyable when he was outnumbered. She had a premonition that she was going to get along splendidly in Thierry's home, probably even more so than Ash had expected.
When the pause in the conversation hung a few moments too long, Thierry laid his hand lightly on Hannah's arm. "I think," he spoke more to her than the other two, "that's it's been a long day. We'll all be much more sociable on some sleep."
"Right," she agreed. "There's nothing to say that we can't tomorrow." And the truth in that statement rekindled her smile optimistically.
"She'll be staying in her room, I gather?" Thierry directed the question in Ash's direction.
'My room?' Marianne mouthed incredulously when she managed to catch the ash-blond vampire's eye.
Ash shrugged wordlessly, untroubled, before giving an affirmative to Thierry. Then he reached out a conciliatory hand to Hannah, "No hard feelings about the 'lady' thing?"
"None." Her hand slid into his, shook it firmly once. "But I won't take back what I said about your singing. Not after that time you drove me to Santa Barbara."
Ash opened his mouth on a retort, thought better of it, and dropped a brotherly kiss on her forehead. "Good night."
Thierry observed the affectionate gesture neutrally, not appearing jealous in the least, secure of his standing. Marianne, however, did not fare quite so well. Maybe it was the offhand, habitual quality of the motion on Ash's part. Maybe it was the fact that Hannah took the kiss for granted, only frowning faintly as she murmured a grudging "'Night." There was no justice in the world for Marianne; nothing between herself and Ash ever came that simply. Everything from the moment they'd met had some price attached, a give-and-take of tremendous proportions. Really, everyone she had met thus far appeared to have a more comfortable connection with him than her, a mixture of warm exasperation and fondness that was present in every face: Mark, Rowan, Kestrel, Jade, the witch at the front gate, Hannah and Thierry. Being Ash's friend seemed to be a far more preferable and uncomplicated arrangement than her inconvenient existence as the love of his life.
She mumbled an unconvincing parting thank-you to Thierry before Ash's hand closed around her wrist, guiding her around the couple to the central staircase. Behind them, Hannah shifted closer to the older vampire, stretching up to whisper something indecipherable in his ear. Thierry's laughter followed her upstairs.
Marianne was soon distracted from her gloomy thoughts though by the sheer enormity and extent of Thierry's house. Within five minutes of leaving their hosts, she was thoroughly disoriented, so it was for the best that Ash was moving ahead of her with casual confidence. Practice, she assumed, was needed to navigate these halls. She was immeasurably pleased when Ash finally selected a door, seemingly at random from the myriad of others she had seen, because her pulse was quick and her breathing was shallow with the physical exertion of traveling the mansion.
And exercise, she decided. Practice and plenty of exercise. Everyone in living this house must be in fantastic shape.
Ash twisted the doorknob, the door swinging inward, and Marianne, peering around his shoulder, caught a first glimpse of 'her room'. She gasped and stumbled a few steps inside. High ceilings, thick carpeting, a king-sized bed scattered with pillows and insulated with more blankets than necessary, handsome old-fashioned bureaus and a few upholstered chairs, along with a writing desk, a walk-in closet, and another door that doubtless led to a private bathroom. All completed by a window and cushioned window seat looking out over the back of the house, so far out that she could see the desert beyond. And there was a wholly lived-in feel to the room, knick-knacks plopped down on almost every flat surface, a picture frame on the bedside table, astronomy posters plastered here and there over the attractive wallpapering, all having belonged to someone at one point.
She twisted back around to face her escort. "Ash."
But he wasn't listening. He was staring at her and through her at the same time, marveling over the curiously hollow space suddenly enclosing his heart. It had been years since he set foot into this particular part of the Descouerdres home. Once, he and Mary-Lynnette had shared the space during any and every break she had from college, and there had been a time when both their possessions had dominated the room, dirty laundry and magazines and term papers. And after that, he had spent those weeks recuperating here, isolated in grief and illness and mania. And the year beyond her death as well, when he had worked himself feverishly into a perpetual state of exhaustion, too drained to recognize the bed he was falling into. But eventually he'd hit his limit, and when he'd finally slowed down enough to see around himself, he'd packed up everything of his, leaving all her belongs undisturbed, and removed himself to the opposite end of the residential wing.
Now, with her standing once more in those familiar surroundings, it was an odd sort of homecoming.
"Ash," she said again, more insistently to catch his attention. "I can't stay here."
"What?" His eyes snapped into attention, focusing on her. "What do you mean?"
"I can't sleep here," she was adamant. "It's too big."
"Oh." The alertness flowed out his shoulders, replaced by lazy indifference. "Well, unless you want to drag your mattress into a closet, this is as small as they come."
"Are you sure there's nothing smaller? I don't mean to complain--it's great, really--but it's so...large. It even echoes. Like some sort of cave, or something--albeit a nicely decorated cave. I'd just be too nervous to fall asleep in a place like this."
"If it would make you feel any better, I could offer to stay here with you and stave off the loneliness."
"Drop dead," she snapped in automatic response to the smirk in his voice.
He spread his arms in an elegant shrug. "Undead vampire," he reminded her sweetly. "It's doesn't work that way."
"Nothing a few pencils can't fix." She swiftly grabbed hold on the edge of the door, hurriedly shutting it in his face, and successfully gave herself the last word in the conversation. It was a handy trick that she would have to remember in the future.
Over the next day and a half, the mansion was inundated with new arrivals, the mismatched group that had once formed the core of Circle Daybreak flooding back to welcome one of their own home. James Rasmussen and Poppy North from Maine. Thea Harman and Eric Ross left behind their veterinary practice in Washington long enough to show up for a few days. Gillian and David. Maggie and Delos. Quinn and Rashel all the way from Boston. Jez and Morgead. Blaise Harman. The co-rulers of the shapeshifters, Keller and Galen Drache. Iliana Harman--which was a unusual surprise in itself; all the witches' Inner Circle had been killed in the War, and the slight blond now shouldered the burden of complete leadership, which rarely left her time for socializing with the rest. It had been over three years since the entire group had been together all at once, and that had been for a national conference of Circle Daybreak, when innumerable strangers and delegates had surrounded them. This was a much more personal gathering.
Ash and Marianne scarcely had any time apart from the others during this invasion; sometimes they exchanged a few words when within the larger group, but more often than not someone or other was demanding Marianne's whole attention. Moreover, the return of Ash's soulmate had coincidentally fallen at the same time as the summer solstice, and the whole household was in a frenzy of preparation for the yearly celebration. Which was exactly the reason that early in the afternoon of her second day at Thierry's, all of the female guests had congregated in Marianne's room, a situation that sounded far more crowded than it actually was.
"You'd think," Iliana's voice fluted out of the closet, where she and Gillian were rooting through the contents while Marianne looked apprehensively on, "that after nearly a quarter of a century of women coming in and out of this house, we could at least found something decent for you to wear."
"If not here," Gillian added helpfully, "than maybe in one of the other rooms."
"Is this really necessary?" the younger girl asked again, shifting her feet so she could see past the two blonde heads to the growing pile of rejected clothes beyond. "I mean, I really don't know all that much about witchy things. Maybe it would be better if I didn't go at all."
Iliana, pausing in the middle of examining a patterned skirt, pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Probably not a good idea. Someone's bound to be insulted if you don't come."
"Witches are highly traditional. Everything has a certain place in the world and everyone is expected to respect that," Poppy contributed educationally. The redhead was currently sprawled upside down on the bed, flipping through a magazine without actually seeing the pages. "And breaking that tradition is practically the only thing that manages to upset a normally very tranquil people. They might cast a curse on you or something." She lifted her eyes, looking directly at Marianne for the first time. "Who knows, they might even turn you into a toad."
Marianne opened her mouth but no sound made it past her throat.
Gillian managed to grin and appear frustrated simultaneously. "Don't worry, Mare. We don't actually turn people into toads."
"Don't let them intimidate you," Blaise crooned from her pose in the window seat. "It's not anywhere near as serious as they're making it out to be. It'll be fun, I promise. Witches may have a reputation for being tree-hugging peace lovers, but if there's anything we know how to do, it's how to throw a party. We have a party for practically anything you can think of."
"Celebrations," Thea corrected her cousin with long-suffering patience. "We celebrate the cycle of the year, the life and death and rebirth of the Goddess. And we don't have one for everything. Actually, there's only eight major holidays in the calendar: Imbolc, Beltaine, Lughnasadh, Samhain--"
"Arbor Day," Rashel Jordan quipped from her perch in one the chairs. The warrior had long ago resigned herself to her vocation as a member of the 'damn Daybreakers,' but that certainly did not mean she had given up her prejudices against witches.
Thea continued her list as if she hadn't been interrupted, "--the winter and summer solstices, and the autumn and spring equinoxes. Well," she rushed to amend her statement, blond eyebrows drawing together, "we don't really celebrate the spring equinox when we're in Thierry's home."
Marianne's interest had been drawn away from the closet by the exchange, and she sat down on the bed, the shift in weight on the mattress causing Poppy to bounce. Then, she asked the one question all the rest were dreading, "Why?"
Several of the faces looked ashamed, and no one dared to speak, all staring warily around them as if Thierry was going to materialize at any moment. Definitely a taboo subject.
After a lengthy pause, Maggie valiantly spoke for the entire group, "The spring equinox was the day that Maya bit Thierry and made him a vampire."
"He did end up finding Hannah in the deal, but..." Iliana began, and then trailed uncertainly to a halt.
"But," Jez completed the thought for her with a wry smile, "all things considered, the equinox doesn't bring to mind any warm, fuzzy memories for him."
"Yeah," Marianne agreed gravely. "I doubt it would."
A solemn silence enveloped the room oppressively as they each mediated on the unimaginable trials of Thierry and his soulmate, until the question that was plaguing Marianne compelled her to speak up at last. "Who's Maya?"
Keller flashed her white teeth in a fierce smile, "Don't they teach you kids anything in school nowadays?"
The assembly of women dissolved into laughter, sober mood broken, glad to turn their thoughts away from the past to their much more pleasant plans for the future and the impending Midsummer's eve.
Who knew that so many people read the author's notes? Thanks so much to those of you that reassured me about the mood of the last chapter, and I want you to know that all of your reviews brightened my day!
Charlotte-The part about Delos just came to me as I was writing, so I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with the rest of the Wild Powers. But I do know that Delos won't be the only one that experienced consequences from the war. I think that was the point of that passage--to show that to win Circle Daybreak had to suffer first. And I'm glad you got a laugh at Ash's expense. =)
fate22-Not blood--ice water. I swear. She's such a prude. But that's why I think that she ended up as Ash's soulmate; if she wasn't so immune to his charms, I doubt the poor vampire would ever get any rest. ;)
incarnated-soul-Aw, shucks. Thanks so much for all your compliments! And you need not be concerned about Ash, I am promising you here and now that he'll get his happy ending.
tanya-I love repeat reviewers! And I'll give you a tiny, tiny hint--it won't be too many more chapters until Marianne gets her memory back.
Aglaia di Willow-To put concisely what I told fate22, Marianne's stark raving mad. (For more thoughts on this subject, see my response to fate22.) And it doesn't make you a bad person, because that would mean I was bad person for imagining him those situations in the first place.
abbi-Hi! Thanks so much for reviewing. Hopefully this chapter gives you a happier feeling than the last.
Sparkling Cherries-First off, my thanks for all your praise! I can't get enough of that. =) And I want to let you know that you're not alone in wishing Ash was real. Sigh. Well, one can dream, can't they?
