“Hello,” I began. “You don’t know me, but—”
A woman who appeared to be in her late twenties came forward, interrupting me. Her carriage was regal, yet her eyes were rimmed red. “Where is she?”
Shocked by the woman’s greeting, I answered automatically. “In the back of the van.”
The woman nodded and motioned to the males in the group. They moved forward as one, all six of them. As I watched, they opened the van and quietly removed Vinca from the van. They carried her past the now openly weeping females, and disappeared into the forest. I turned to the head female, my mouth gaping.
“Thank you for bringing her home,” she said. “I am Astrid, Vinca’s mother.”
She offered me her hand, and, mystified, I took it gently. “I’m Sabina. Vinca was my friend.”
The woman tilted her head and looked at me. Her moss-green eyes searched mine for a moment. She opened her mouth, no doubt to ask any of a myriad questions. But she thought better of it and closed her Cupid’s-bow lips.
“Where are they taking her?” I asked.
“To prepare her for the rites. Come, one of my daughters will show you to your room.”
I wanted to ask more questions. How had she known to expect me? Did she know how Vinca died? Those and a million others fluttered through my head like butterflies. Yet I was bone tired. The sun had risen a couple of hours earlier and I was almost dead on my feet from exhaustion. I could handle sunlight only in small doses, and the sun’s rays were weighing me down. There would be time to discuss the hows and whys later.
I nodded and followed the fresh-faced nymph who came forward to show me to the house. She sniffled as she led me along a path of packed earth. The smells of the forest surrounded us—mulch and dew combined with the sharp scent of leafy things. The others followed at a slower pace, their whispers so low I couldn’t make out their words.
Soon a house loomed ahead. Unlike Briallen’s modest cabin in Muir Woods, this place rose two stories and I lost track counting the rounded windows that glinted in the morning sun filtering through the trees. The structure itself resembled a cluster of giant toadstools, with curving rooflines and smooth stucco walls.
My room sat on the second floor under low eaves. A simple bed with a white-and-green quilt sat under a small window, set in the slopped ceiling. The girl didn’t speak much as she covered the window with a blanket. She opened a door to show me the bathroom and where to find fresh towels. “My mother said to tell you the rites will occur tomorrow night at sundown. In the meantime, you should rest. If you need anything, my room is just across the hall.”
I thanked her and then she was gone. I collapsed on the bed, wondering if I’d entered some kind of bizarre fairy tale. A few minutes later, my muscles spasmed, waking me from my half-sleep. I ran a hand over my face and sat up. I needed to call Adam before I passed out.
He picked up on the third ring. His voice sounded as tired as I felt. “Lazarus.”
“Adam, it’s Sabina. I’m here.”
“Is everything okay? How’d they take the news?”
“That’s the weird part,” I said. “They seemed to be expecting me. It’s like they already knew everything.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me. Nymphs have extremely developed intuition, especially when it comes to family.”
I thought briefly about Vinca’s attempts at prophecy with a sad smile. “That must be it,” I said. “Anyway, I’m here. They seem to already have funeral arrangements under way. Astrid, Vinca’s mother, said the rites would occur tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be there by tomorrow morning.”
“How are things there?”
His sigh carried over the lines. “As good as can be expected given the circumstances. The families of the dead have been notified.”
“I’m sorry you lost so many,” I said.
“I’m just thankful we will be able to bury them with the proper rites. I owe you for that.”
I cringed at his praise. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d have been able to save them.”
“Stop it,” he said. “You are the reason we found them to begin with.” I heard a muted voice on the other end, as if someone had interrupted Adam. He told the person he’d be there in a minute and came back on the line. “Listen, I need to go meet with the Council. I’ll be there tomorrow morning, so we can argue about this more then. Deal?”
I smiled. “Deal.” After we hung up, I managed to shuck my boots before crawling under the covers. I didn’t hear any sounds in the house as I drifted into a blessedly dreamless sleep.
At sundown the next night, Adam and I followed the procession from the house to a small clearing surrounded by towering redwoods. Vinca’s six brothers carried her body on a litter made from bent willows interlaced with garlands of dried flowers and herbs. They’d dressed her in flowing gowns of lavender gossamer and placed a crown of purple dried heather on her head.
When we’d reached the site, we gathered in a circle. I’d never been to a funeral, much less one for a faery, so I hung back. Adam stood beside me, a soothing presence.
We watched as the brothers dug a pit in the earth at the base of the tallest tree. The females sang dirges in a language I didn’t know. The sound of their sweet, high voices singing songs of loss sent shivers through me.
Once the body had been covered, the rest fell back, offering Adam and me a chance to pay our respects. Adam moved forward first, kneeling beside the small mound. I looked away, not wanting to intrude on the private moment. When he stood, I looked back and saw tears glistening on his cheeks. He moved to the other side, motioning me to come over.
This was the moment I’d been dreading for two days. How does one say good-bye to a friend? I’d never known anyone who died while I watched. Well, not anyone I cared about. And didn’t kill. Until now, death was a business, not a life-changing experience. Never had a loss cut so deep. I worried I might bleed from the pain.
I moved forward slowly, my eyes focused on the small mound. I felt disconnected from my body as I knelt. My hands reached out to touch the cold soil, as if needing to verify this was all really happening. I couldn’t speak over the lump of regret in my throat. I whispered the words in my head—private words of sorrow and apology, of regret and longing, of farewell and friendship.
When I finished, Adam helped me to my feet. Astrid came forward, her face set in a mask of sorrow and resolve.
“Now we must perform the sacred rites.” She did not say it, but we understood this was time for us to leave. Obviously, the faeries needed their time to mourn their loss privately, without outside intrusion.
It was as if the entire forest mourned. As Adam and I walked together from the gravesite, I marveled at the complete lack of night sounds. No birds sang, no insects buzzed, no critters scurried through underbrush. The only sounds were the periodic sobs of Vinca’s family and the rhythmic beat of the funeral drums.
We did not speak as we walked further into the forest. Adam’s hand found mine and we wandered to a small wooden bridge spanning a wide creek. Together, we walked to the railing and leaned against the rough wood, listening to the chatter of the water.
Adam spoke first, his voice so quiet I almost missed it. “They’ll be there all night, watching over her.”
I swallowed and nodded, watching a leaf dance on the surface of the water.
“It’s not your fault,” he said.
A tear forged a wet path down my cheek and splashed onto my hand. “I should have killed him that first night. Then she wouldn’t have gotten dragged into this.”
Adam took my shoulders and turned me to face him. With one hand, he tilted my chin up so I had to meet his eyes. His face wavered behind the tears gathering in my eyes. “She was a big girl. She knew the dangers.”
“But—”
Adam put a finger to my lips. “Don’t. Blaming yourself won’t bring her back. It won’t change anything.”
I swiped at my cheeks with the backs of my hands and let out a breath. “You’re right. I just hate this.”
“I do, too. But the harsh truth is many more will die.”
Startled, I looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“The Council is going to declare war against the Dominae.”
My stomach dropped. “When?”
“Soon.”
“But that’s just what the Dominae want,” I said.
He sighed and gripped the wooden bean tightly. “I know. Believe me, I tried to talk them out of it. But the Hekate Council can’t let their actions go unpunished.”
“It’s going to be Armageddon.” A sick feeling of inevitability rose in my stomach.
“Maybe not,” he said. “There might be a way to avoid it.”
“How? Wait, you’re not talking about that prophecy BS again, are you? Get serious, Adam.”
“Look, there are things I haven’t told you. Things I can’t tell you yet.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Will you just come with me back to New York?”
His quick change of subject made me pause. “Is this about meeting my sister or the prophecy?”
“Both. Listen, you can’t stay in California. The Dominae will track you down. Chances are good if you strike out on your own they’ll still find you. And once the war starts, you definitely won’t be safe. Your only hope is to ally yourself with the Hekate Council.”
“I don’t know, Adam. Not all vampires are bad just because the Dominae are. I might be able to call in a few favors.”
“Yes, but once war starts, you know the Dominae will declare martial law in all the vamp communities. No one will offer you protection.”
I didn’t like the idea of choosing sides by default. “Maybe I’ll stay here with Vinca’s family.”
He shook his head. “And endanger them? Sabina, be realistic. Besides, the Seelie Court will side with the Hekate Council. We’ve always been allies.”
