Moon Child (21 page)
“I see. And what exactly did he ask you to do?”
Ash remained standing over the woman, Silas remaining on guard on the other side.
“He contacted me in London a few weeks back,” Chrysanthe continued. “I had... um, a problem. He offered to mend it for me, if I worked for him.”
Silas narrowed his eyes on her.
“Yes, go on,” Ash said, sounding snippy. Tristan continued to happily eat at the table, content with letting Ash play interrogator. She was better at it than him. Usually calmer too.
“Oh dear, you see, I um…” The pythia was looking down at her hands, fiddling with the fabric of her skirt. “I sort of lost my sight and he knew and wanted to help.”
Looking stunned and hurt, Silas slowly lowered himself to the sofa. “Agapi mou,” he whispered. “Why?”
“Oh dear,” she said turning to look at him, “I’m sorry, love. I hadn’t wanted to worry you with such a trivial thing.”
He took her hands into his, fuchsia eyes full of pain. He didn’t need to form words for her to understand him. Chrysanthe heaved a deep breath and turned on the sofa again, leaning back so that she was staring out at nothing, Ash in her peripheral on one side with Mamoru and Tristan behind her, Silas on the other, Desmond farther out, watching with seeming disinterest.
“The Professor said he knew I was having trouble seeing and that he could help me. Not only that, if I did but a few small things for him in return, he would reward me with special gifts that no other possessed. He promised me that I wouldn’t have to hurt anyone, just perhaps pretend in some instances. The burdens I was asked to bare would be worth the payout. So when he bound Silas to me and gave me the gift of elf magic… How was I to say no?”
“You stupid, selfish, childish witch,” Ash bit out.
Chrysanthe visibly winced. “Yes. But I was so blinded by the rush of power and promise of foresight again, that I didn’t mind. Oh dear, he never asked me to kill anyone, only to act as if I meant to. You see, he wanted me to pretend to want to kill Mamoru here, to force Tristan to take the man’s side.”
“His will or another’s?”
Chrysanthe frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t know. He didn’t strike me as the one who made those spells though.”
“Why?”
“Oh dear, I don’t know.” She was fiddling with the folds of her skirt again. “He just seemed… confused. The potion was premade and he stuttered the words so bad I didn’t think it would work. I think he’s just a middle man.”
Ash nodded, having been thinking the same.
“How do we find this Professor? Do you have a way to set meetings?”
The others all turned to look at Tristan and his sudden intervention. He was staring at the pythia with narrowed eyes. The loudmouthed American seemed harmless enough but Ash knew he was stronger than most humans. He killed an older vampire all on his own, vanilla though the man may have been, he was still stronger than humans could handle and one of Malik’s more mentally unstable scions. Not to mention Lucien.
“Oh dear, he always finds me.”
“Of course he does,” Tristan muttered before shoving another bite of chicken into his mouth.
Ash frowned at the glass of whiskey in Tristan’s other hand before turning her attention back to their guests. “How is it that he bound Silas to you?” The elf stiffened at Ash’s question. “It is impossible for pythia to take familiars, and an elf…”
The pythia sighed and slumped back on the sofa. “He told me it was a secret. There was a ritual, of course, but I was not awake during the process and only woke when it was said and done to drink the potion. After that Silas was my familiar and I could pull earth magic through him and wield it as my own.”
“Remarkable,” Ash said, sounding less angry. Her attention went past the pythia to the elf. Ash considered the man a moment. “You both are fools. This man, this Professor, he has twisted you into something unnatural so that he might pervert fate.” Yuki’s incessant meddling was nothing compared to the damage this Professor had already caused. Ash just hoped it wasn’t too late to set their course back on its proper path. Of course, fate always corrected itself, but the casualties might be too high a price to pay when it finally caught up.
“Yes,” Chrysanthe answered in a tiny voice. “I see that now.”
“Were you the one who helped Genoveva?”
The pythia exchanged a weary look with her elf. “Oh dear, I didn’t offer you to her if that’s what you mean. When I arrived at that place, that home, you both were unconscious. But I was told to collect the man by any and all means… I didn’t even know it was you until I’d arrived. I am sorry dear, I hadn’t wanted to leave you to that crazy vampire, but I had to do what I was told.”
“By this Professor?”
Chrysanthe nodded.
Shifting on her feet, Ash crossed her arms over her chest. “It was not the incident in my abandoned home I speak of. You are the one who gave that beast the spell to humanize me.”
The other woman blanched. “Humanize…?” Her eyes darted to Tristan who just shrugged at her. When she caught Mamoru’s attention, he only stared, jaw stiff and eyes accusing. Ash too wore the same look, filled with deeper anger. “Oh dear, what’s become of you?”
Ash lifted her chin. “Nothing that cannot be remedied presently. Give me the counter spell.”
Chrysanthe’s brown eyes widened in fear and she jumped to her feet, squeaking, “You think I have it?”
“Careful,” Silas warned softly, almost unheard under the pounding of blood in Chrysanthe’s ears. His eyes were fixed on Desmond, silent and all but nearly forgotten. The man was watching without making it obvious. Of all the others in the room, it was the ever prattling, suddenly struck silent Scotsman that worried Silas the most.
“Desmond?” Ash questioned.
The man sighed, rubbing at his stiff hair. “She’s no’ lyin’ but her mind’s a bloody mess. Someone’s been in there, fooking ‘round.”
“I see,” Ash said, sounding terribly disappointed as she realized the woman really didn’t know what Ash meant. Chrysanthe herself had been spelled, no surprise.
“Asta—Ash,” the pythia said, pleading in her eyes and sorrow in her voice. “What has become of you?”
“Nothing you are able to see remedy to, apparently.”
“Apparently,” Tristan echoed in a rough tone saying he was disappointed too.
The pythia frowned, realizing she’d just been insulted. “Oh dear, I wish to help.”
“Then tell us where to find this Professor then,” Tristan said as he stood, belly full and veins filled with warmth again.
Chrysanthe sighed, sitting back against the sofa. “Oh dear, I told you, he finds me.”
“He plays you,” Ash spit out and then heaved a sigh, turning away from the couple on the sofa. Her eyes fell on Tristan and he quirked a tiny smile at her. She shook her head, at a loss. She was tempted to just bite the woman, but the mere thought of drinking blood right then put Ash right off it. She didn’t have her usual hunger, for good or bad.
“I suggest we take a trip.”
Understanding her meaning, Tristan nodded and sighed, gathering up his gun and knife. “I’m getting really sick of water…”
“No, no bloody way!” Desmond all but screamed as he burst from his seat. Everyone in the room started at his outburst except Ash. “I’ll no go there. No one can make us, not even yew Asta.”
Ash gave him an apologetic smile but knew better than to say the words. “I would have you stay with these two.”
Desmond’s eyes flicked to the stiff couple, his own stance relaxing. “Aye.”
“We can help,” Chrysanthe pleaded. “Oh dear, let us help.”
Ash stopped and turned slow on the ball of a foot, eyes narrowing on the woman. “I believe you have done enough
helping
.”
The pythia’s lips pressed into a tight line. She wanted to argue but knew better than to press her luck. She counted herself gifted to still own her very life after the mess she’d found herself in.
Ash turned into Tristan, slipping an arm around his waist and giving his rear a little pinch that everyone noticed. He made a fun little noise for her before marching them to the door.
“I will accompany you, if you don’t mind,” Mamoru called out.
Tristan flinched at what it could mean to be alone with Mamoru and Ash. He liked the man but didn’t need to be reminded of how he knew Ash. Next to him, Ash didn’t even break a beat, answering with a cheerful, “Come along. We have a boat to catch.”
When they were outside, Tristan asked, “What’s up with Desmond? If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said he was afraid.”
The look Ash and Mamoru exchanged said it all. “Most of us fear the place we died.”
“Desmond died on Crete?” Seemed strange since the man was from Scotland.
She nodded, forward pace determined as she angled towards the car. “During the war that was meant to have taken my human husband. He was a prisoner in his own lands before the French bought him, in turn he was sent off to fight with Greece against the Ottomans. Vampires are drawn to war, an unfortunate thing for those wanting to die just once in their lives. That is where Yukihime found him, dying on the battlefield.”
The others were silent for a moment, taking in Desmond’s story. It was only a part of who the vampire was, but Tristan was starting to shape new ideas of who Desmond really was with this new knowledge. Didn’t mean they were BFF’s or nothing.
“You know there’s no ferries this late in the day, right?” Mamoru interjected softly.
Ash shot him an embarrassed smile. “I know. I just did not wish to spend the rest of night with the others.” Her expression hardened as she climbed into the driver’s seat of the little rental. “And I wanted some time alone with Tristan.”
Mamoru stopped his motion to climb in the back behind Tristan. “I should stay here.”
“No,” Ash said sounding tired and started the car. “Tristan might need you.”
Tristan frowned at the two talking as if he weren’t there and, for once, decided to keep his big mouth shut. It was just nearing one in the morning and with more than four more hours of dark, he wondered what there was to be said that he’d need the support of a stranger to get through.
BLASTED!” Ash’s form of a curse echoed strangely in the close quarters as she dropped a stone larger than her head with ease. She may have been spelled human but she was still a vampire at the heart of it all. She was faster and stronger but couldn’t hear thoughts or pull an aura, not that she needed to with how she currently looked.
“Sorry, Ash,” Tristan said, feeling helpless and tired. He was warm now, almost hot, but he was tired. Shivering was hard work. So was fighting off death.
She crouched in the little hole under the stairs and shut her eyes, huffing. “It was just a blind hope that it would have remained here.”
“Hope’s a good thing to have.”
Ash opened her eyes and looked up to Tristan. He was leaning against a wall that stopped hip-height, arms over his chest. The moon was waning gibbous, but the clouds were obscuring its light tonight, doing well in hiding Tristan’s expression in a deep shadow. Rain was on the horizon again. His tone said he was sincere in her being unable to find the book she was hoping was still there, a memento of her mother’s, and mother’s before, going back until God knew when, but Ash couldn’t read Tristan and that aggravated her to no end. And so she said so without restraint to her choice of words for once.
“I really hate that I cannot hear your thoughts.”
Across the room, near the front door that held no arch to prove it was even a doorway, Mamoru chuckled.
Tristan’s eyes fell on the man and he said, “I don’t.”
Ash stood, climbing out from under the half crumbled stairs and moving cautiously towards him. “Tristan?”
Mamoru, hearing both of the other’s thoughts shook his head and quietly excused himself. He wasn’t going to go far, having taken on the duty of unofficial bodyguard to them both. He’d move just far enough away to be able to react should anything happen but give the couple some privacy to fight. Because he saw it coming. Tasted the bitter emotions in the air without even needing to read anyone’s thoughts.
“We’re even now. I like that, that’s all.”
She stopped with enough space between them to still own their own personal space, but close enough they could reach for each other should the need arise. “You are angry with me.”
“Yes,” he answered dryly. “A little.” In the tub, recovering from near death, he thought it didn’t matter anymore. But now, with his brain functioning fully again, he realized he just couldn’t let the lies by omission go.
“Oh Tristan,” She took a quick step into him only to stop at the look on his face. “I have so much I want to tell you.”
“Want or need?”
“Both! When I bit Malik, and my own memories… I still cannot say I know who or what your father was, but I am getting closer to the answer, I can feel it.”
At Ash’s sudden enthusiasm, Tristan straightened, dropping his arms to his sides. “I’m listening…”
She smiled brightly. If she only knew how good it looked on her, maybe she’d do it more often. “Come, I want to show you something.”
He looked at her outstretched hand and then sighed, taking it. She wasn’t as warm as she looked and it was a bit of a shock. He suddenly smiled, making her stiffen, his eyes going soft with emotion. “I really like you this way. You look really nice.” And alive, he was thinking, but wouldn’t say aloud.
Ash, unsure of how she felt about the whole thing, just nodded and turned to lead them out of the home. Her footing was as sure as it had always been, effortlessly gliding them through the rubble, avoiding even looking at the space where the two men had been buried up to their necks just a night ago.
Mamoru straightened when the two passed by the car where he was leaning. “Ready?”
“Actually,” Ash stopped and Tristan took his hand back. She frowned, tried to hide it and then gave up realizing Mamoru knew everything anyway. “We are going to have a walk. You are most welcome to head into Gytheio now. We will meet you there soon.”
Mamoru looked like he was actually thinking it over when he knew exactly what his answer was. “That’s fine. I’ll wait here. We’re in no rush to go anywhere.”
“Let us hope that Genoveva is not lurking about.”
The Japanese man shook his head. “I don’t sense anyone but you two.”
Tristan lifted a brow. He could feel Tristan… and Ash?
Interesting
.
Mamoru’s lips quirked into a sly smile, his eyes going to Tristan.
“She can mask herself completely,” Tristan said, not sure what was so funny.
“I’m not worried,” the other man said confidently.
Uneasy, Tristan shifted on his feet and shot Ash a look before turning way. “Right. Just yell if you need us.”
“Hai.”
Ash caught up and motioned for Tristan to follow, cutting to the right. He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and trailed along with her, slightly behind. Sure, he was happy that she finally admitted to lying to him, but he was still angry over it. A part of him understood why she did it but a bigger part was just plain frustrated. He couldn’t live this way. Not and be happy anyway.
They wound their way through tall grass and sickly trees. Ash was sad to see them ill and wished she could help them. A small part of her wanted to remain here and see them restored. Her home, restored. But she knew she couldn’t bear it. She died here, as did her sister. She couldn’t bear with the thought that Evangeline still lingered in spirit and would haunt her, hate for her for what she’d done. It was silly, fearing a ghost, but it was what she was raised to believe in. Some beliefs, no matter what insane Turks tried to instill on her, were hard to turn from.
“This used to be my garden. Eva and I, we ate everything we grew, in spells, in meals. We loved to tend the garden, the peace it gave us…”
After a moment of silence, Ash sighed deeply. “Your mother was quite beautiful—the woman who bore you, I mean.”
Tristan flinched, head snapping up to look at the back of Ash’s head.
“She fought off Malik when he came for her. He was savage, terrible, but she died proudly.”
Tristan came to a stop. “Jesus, Ash. All this time—”
Ash stopped with him and turned to face him, crossing her arms across her middle. “I know.” The words were so soft the wind nearly took them away before finding Tristan.
“Well?” he prompted after they’d stared at one another for nearly a minute in tense silence.
She lifted her chin. “I have no excuse that will appease you.”
“That’s it then?”
Ash dropped her arms. “What do you want from me?”
“Honesty. Pure, unaltered honesty.”
Ash’s lips pursed. “I saw her death in Malik’s blood, but I also knew your mother.”
“Knew her…?”
“I spent so much time looking for you that I knew just about everything about Masuyo Minamoto-Uruwashi that I could possibly know before I ever came upon you.”
“Then you know my who my father—”
She put a hand up. “No. That was the only thing I could not glean. She was rather clever and more than smart, concededly so. You were actually harder to find than one would have expected. I suspect that is why it took Malik so long to kill you… he didn’t know where to find you. That was Masuyo’s scheming.”
He took a step back, eyes wide and mouth open in a shocked oh.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve known all this time?”
“Since France.”
“What the—” He stopped to swallow back a curse. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“In truth, I was not sure if you really wanted to know.”
“What? Of course—That’s all I’ve ever wanted!”
Ash frowned, but didn’t take a step back, even when Tristan’s anger beat against her, telling her to back off.
“You may think you are honest, Tristan, but there are lies even you tell.”
“That—” Tristan fell into stuttering, unsure of what to say to that, afraid she was right. God, he hated that she could call him on his bullshit so easily. And he let her.
Ash decided to press forward, because if after she was done and he decided to leave she wanted him to have at least heard this much. “She was from the ancient Miyamoto clan, raised just outside of Kyoto. Her mother was only human, she died in childbirth. Her father was the Uruwashi, a strong one at that, but only cared about his job. Masuyo was often left alone to be raised by nannies and valets of the family.
“She was spoiled, rich and lonely. She went to the best schools and graduated early with a degree in business only because she did not know what she wanted to really do. When she was eighteen, she met a man and a year later she was married and pregnant… with you.”
Ash paused to swallow and give Tristan the chance to say something. He only stared at her, eyes full of barely held back emotion that Ash was ready for. But he just nodded at her for her to go on.
“Her husband disappeared before she knew she was pregnant. Whatever drove Masuyo—” Ash shook her head. “She was convinced he really did not wish to leave, but had to. Why, I could not discern. In searching for him, she discovered what she was and was taken in by the local Uruwashi clan… by Mamoru’s clan.”
Tristan’s eyes widened. Why didn’t Mamoru ever say so? Had he just been waiting for the right moment? Or was it one of his secrets, one of those things he was holding on to until Genoveva was dead? “Mamoru knew my mother?” His voice was soft and full of pain.
Ash shook her head. “Actually, no. Mamoru had already left his clan to marry an American woman and Masuyo left shortly after being taken in by Mamoru’s people. She had a lead on her missing husband that took her to Maryland.”
“My parents,” he whispered, feeling his eyes well at the thought of them.
“Needing prenatal care, she stumbled upon Doctor Julia Blum. Doctor Blum took pity on her and took her in, but only because she convinced them she was something she was not.”
“She used them?” Tristan asked, feeling his anger well.
Ash nodded solemnly. “But she came to trust and love them, though I do not know if she ever confided the truth with them. She loved you too, but something drove her to find her husband, so much so that it was her life’s mission…. There was a reason for it, but I could never understand why.
“She left you with the Blum’s and resumed her search again. After that, I’m unclear of what happened, only that she ended up in Japan again. In Semboku.”
“But that’s…”
“Mhm,” Ash said softly. “Near where your apartment is, yes. I can show you where I had her buried… if you like.”
“Wait, what? You…?”
Ash nodded solemnly. “Malik killed her before you arrived in Japan. I found her body where he left her to die. I had her cremated and interred her ashes in a cemetery under her birth name. But I did not do it officially, there is no record of her death anywhere.”
Tristan looked horrified, complexion a little pale. “Did—when did she…?”
“July. Before last.”
That was just a month before his parents died. A mere month before Malik killed them.
“I do not know if she ever found her husband again, only that Malik found her. She fought him and might have won if she understood how to use her seikonō properly.”
Tristan’s mouth dropped open and he blinked at her for a moment before asking, “She was awakened? Who did it?”
Ash shook her head. “I could never determine that, only that I think the vampire might have been of Earth or possibly Wind.” And if this ledger Mamoru was searching for contained exactly what she thought it did, then there was a very good chance that it held many answers for them both.
She paused for a moment, letting it all settle into his mind. It was a lot to take in. Ash wished she hadn’t waited so long to tell him. She had no excuse for it, it was plain fear and bad timing on her part that kept her silent for so long.
“I know she did love you, in her way,” Ash said in a small voice. “She purposefully put Uruwashi as her surname rather than Minamoto on your birth certificate as a last safeguard in case she could not come back for you. Perhaps that was the only thing tying you to her, how Malik finally found you. But I truly believe she meant to return for you.”
“You…” Tristan stopped, staring at her for a moment. “You… Fuck, Ash.” He rubbed his forehead, eyes shut tightly. “I don’t even know what to say.” He dropped his arm with an exasperated sigh and looked her in the eye though it was a strain. “Why didn’t you tell me before? We had a whole ten days of nothing while we healed and traveled. It would have been the absolute fucking perfect time to talk to me. I’m not
that
hard to talk to, am I?”
“I was… afraid.”
“Of me?” Tristan asked, his hurt palatable.
Ash jumped to her feet, startling him to step back. That little step hurt her in a way she couldn’t put into words. “I was…” She shook her head. “I really have no excuse. Tristan… I’m not afraid of you. I fear… being utterly powerless to the supremacy of fate.”