I closed my eyes, relaxed into her embrace. “First, I have something to do. Then… I need to talk to Amber and Luke. I haven’t really had a chance yet. And after…” I turned to her. “After, I want you. Need you.”
She let go. She wasn’t one of those clingy spouses who had to know everything I was thinking or doing. Lately we’d been on the scritchy side, but for the most part, I thought we understood each other.
“I’ve got some reading to catch up on. Just let me know when you’re ready. I’m all yours.” And with that promise, she vanished into the parlor and closed the door behind her.
I looked over at Roz and Trillian. Both men looked shaken and tired. “Has it been very bad?”
“Worse than you can imagine. Or maybe not. Delilah and Camille came through hell. As bad as the aftermath is, the storm must have been a fury beyond any I’ve ever dreamed of.” Roz’s usual good cheer had vanished, and he slumped down on the sofa. The incubus had seen far more than his share of death and dying over the centuries he had been alive, and still he looked shaken to the core.
“The dead are everywhere. The goblins are behind every tree, every bush. The smell of blood is so thick in some villages that it overpowers everything else…” His words drifted off, and he stared at his hands. “I thought it was bad when Dredge killed my family. But that was nothing compared to what we’ve witnessed.”
Trillian clapped him on the shoulder. “Bad it is, and worse still, there’s nothing we can do to help. The destruction is of such a magnitude that we give our food to the children we find sitting on the side of the road. They are everywhere. No place to go, no parents, no shoes or clean clothes or water. And no one to look out for them.” His face was bleak, and for the first time, I began to see beneath the arrogant exterior. I knew there was more to him than met the eye—that had become clear over the past couple of years—but now… now it was visible.
“What… what can we do?” The thought of the devastation was enough to overwhelm anybody.
Trillian sighed. “Make damned sure Earthside is protected. The three of you and our ragtag army here, we’re all that stands between the far worse carnage that would happen should Shadow Wing break through. Can you imagine the response if a horde of demons came trampling through? Opposing governments would assume it was their enemy, setting a new weapon to strike.”
Morio joined the conversation. “Should that happen? Watch the nuclear bombs fly. And the resulting radiation would only strengthen the demons. All Shadow Wing would have to do is start the whole mess. The humans would do the rest and leave Earthside open to utter destruction and enslavement.”
“He’s right. What’s going on in Otherworld?” Trillian said. “That will only be multifold should the Demon Lord make it through the portals.” He brushed his hand over his eyes. “I’m going to the kitchen and check on my wife, if you’ll excuse me.”
As he left the room, I turned back to Roz, but the incubus was leaning back on the sofa, asleep. He must have been exhausted. I picked up a throw and gently covered him with it. None of the men had slept much—of that I was sure.
At that moment, Smoky and Vanzir returned.
I pointed to the kitchen. “Camille is in there. Trillian and Delilah are with her. And Roz is asleep. Let him rest, if you can.”
Smoky gave me a gentle nod. “I’ll go to her then.”
Vanzir gave me a speculative look. “Do you need to be with them—your sisters?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think I’d do much good right now. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I stepped past him, then headed outside. I knew what I had to do, even though I didn’t want to.
The rain was slashing down, stinging needles against my flesh. Vampire I might be, but I could still feel jabs and punctures and bruises. They may not hurt as much, in fact most of them bounced off, but I was aware of them.
Clouds boiled across the sky and I stared up at the racing storm. We were in our rainy season, and it would last until June. The Seattle area managed about fifty-five to sixty cloud-free days a year, most of them in the summer. I relished the chill gloom—it seemed more appropriate than winters in more southern climes, where I’d still have to stay in my lair, asleep until the pull of sunset woke me. I loved the rain and wind that swept through, making the Northwest its semipermanent home.
As I approached the shed-cum-apartment, I stopped for a moment. I was better suited than either of my sisters for this, but still… I wasn’t sure just how it would affect me. It had been only hours ago that I’d attended the funeral of a good friend. Now, I’d be standing vigil by another corpse, but this one… this one I had roots with.
After a moment, I summoned my courage and pushed through the door. There, neatly laid out on the sofa, was the shrouded figure of Sephreh ob Tanu, the man who had loved our mother, the man who had shared his genetic code with us. I knelt by the leather couch, pausing before I reached out and slowly pulled the shroud away.
It was Father, all right. Even through the pale, bruised skin… it was Father. I thought about lifting the cover all the way, seeing just what had happened to him, but then I decided to forgo the idea. I didn’t need the gory details. I’d lived through my own death and torture. I didn’t need to see what pain he’d been through when he died. I could afford him that much privacy.
As I watched his face, I realized I was searching for any sign of life—a flutter of breath, or a flicker of the eyelashes. But silence ruled, and Father remained still as the silence of my own body. Only for him, there would be no second chance, there would be no life after life, no living death. He had gone to our ancestors, and I had no doubt he stood arm in arm with Mother now.
The thought made me smile. He’d missed her so very much, and had never been quite right after her death. He’d become hardened, harsher—more demanding. Poor Camille had born the brunt of his expectations, but we’d all felt the withdrawal. A guardsman at heart, Sephreh’s grief had turned him from stoic to rigid. But in the end, he’d given more than we ever thought possible, and he’d tried to make his peace with us.
“I don’t know if I can ever forget the years you ignored me after I was turned,” I found myself saying. “Or the way you treated Camille… she was just a little girl and you turned her into the household servant. You were only kind to Delilah, but even then you ignored her.”
Pausing again, I thought about what I wanted to say to him. His spirit would most likely be around, and I was certain he could hear me. “But… despite all that… despite the way you treated Trillian, in the end, you made the effort to return to us. You were kind to my wife. You apologized to Camille. You apologized to Trillian. And in the end of things… I believe that you meant what you said. I believe you were sorry.”
Falling silent, I realized I was almost done. Short and sweet, that was my style. “So I’m letting it all go. I’m letting you off the hook. And I hope you’re with Mother now, in the Land of the Silver Falls. I hope you’re happy… because I don’t want you to be lonely anymore. You loved Mother with a passion I don’t know if I can ever feel… but I’m trying. I’m trying to open up, to let my wife in, to love her as much as you loved Mother. So… thanks… thank you for the lesson. If nothing else, you taught me that such a love can exist. You taught me to hope.”
With that, I’d said all I had to say. I gently leaned down, kissed the silent forehead, and whispered. “Good-bye, Father. We’ll never forget you.”
As I entered the kitchen and washed my hands, Hanna looked at me. The room was empty and her eyes were suspiciously red.