"Grey House Wizards?" I hadn't heard that before.
"They are the finest and most powerful of their kind," Erland said. "Different from the Karathians, as we dabble in some of the darker spells at times—we cannot help it, Karathia being on the boundary between the light and dark worlds, as it is."
"Do you dabble in the darker spells?" I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
"Never to cause an unwarranted death," he smiled again. "That would be against my principles and many who associate with me now would not continue to do so had I done things of that nature. Therefore, I stay within the neutral area when it becomes necessary to perform anything other than a spell of light."
"Well, that's a relief," I said.
Kifirin walked over and stood next to me. "We must go soon," he said, taking my hand and interrupting my conversation with Erland Morphis. Erland offered me a smile that held sadness.
* * *
Do not give any message or indication, Kifirin sent mindspeech to Erland Morphis. She must not know so that things will proceed as they should.
My heart weeps because there is no way to save her, Erland Morphis replied.
Do you think that pain has not been stirred thoroughly in my own heart? Kifirin leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Lissa's temple. We will go.
Chapter 7
We left Erland Morphis standing in the arboretum, probably staring at the spot where we'd stood barely a blink before. Kifirin and I now perched on the edge of a volcano. Heat was rising from its depths but no lava was flowing.
"I have calmed it down somewhat; it erupted forty years ago," he said, his dark eyes gazing out over the caldera.
"Do a lot of damage?"
"Some," Kifirin admitted reluctantly. "I was angry at the time."
"What got your panties in a bunch?" I asked.
"It is not something I can discuss," he said.
"Big secret, huh?"
"Yes. Unfortunately."
"What do you call the volcano? Is it named after you too?" I smiled up at Kifirin.
"No, avilepha. It is called Baetrah, which means Fire Mountain."
"Roff said that the comesuli come here to ask you for favors."
"They still do. Sometimes I consider their requests." He'd said consider. He didn't say grant. I didn't push it—maybe it was one of those things you weren't supposed to know. "The High Demons come here when they tire of their life," Kifirin went on. "If they throw themselves into the fire while in humanoid form, they give up their lives. While they are in full Thifilathi, the fire cannot harm them. It is the way they were made."
"You did that, if I recall correctly," my fists were on my hips.
"Yes," Kifirin sighed. "I did that. I made the High Demons. At times, I wish I had created them with better memories, or with more focus toward their responsibilities. Come, m'hala, it is time to go."
Kifirin dropped me off in the living area of the guesthouse, seconds after we'd left it. "That didn't take long," Winkler drawled. Sometimes, Texas comes out in his voice. Sometimes. Kifirin left me there with both bottles of wine after a quick kiss. He just disappeared, as he always does. "How does he do that?" Winkler asked, rising and coming over to touch my cheek. Maybe he was checking to make sure I was real or something. Gavin rose, too, probably to make sure Winkler didn't get away with too much.
"He calls it folding space," I said.
"That's a theory that has been kicked around a bit, with variations on how it could actually be accomplished," Winkler observed. The genius Winkler was present, it seems. "Do you know how it works?"
"I have no idea, you're asking the wrong person," I said. "Maybe you should ask him yourself if you see him again."
* * *
"How did we miss this?" Griffin sat at a table inside a Falchani bar; Kifirin sat across from him. Two cups of untouched rice wine sat on the table between them. "All the Possibilities pointed in another direction. Now the Absolute shows up and it is disastrous." Griffin had fingers laced through his thick brown hair and he wanted to tug it out by the roots, he was so frustrated and upset.
"Only disastrous for the one," Kifirin blew a curl of smoke from his nostrils.
* * *
Tony sat next to René at the linen-covered table where they'd eaten their meal, sipping the last of their wine. The dinner was excellent, but Corinne Alford had the saddest expression on her face. Tony glanced briefly at his vampire sire before turning back to his mother.
"Mom, you'll always be my mother, no matter what," Tony reached across the table and took his mother's fingers. "I mean that. Nothing will ever come between us. You raised me, you and Dad," he nodded at Lucas. Lucas had done as much or more for him than most fathers Tony knew. He'd never been treated differently or slighted in favor of Deryn. They were brothers, too, even if they weren't blood kin. "Mom, I know," Tony said. "I know I'm not Everett's. Or yours by blood. I'm yours because you wanted me."
Corinne Alford blinked across the table at her son before the tears fell. "How did you find out?" Corinne wept, her voice thick with emotion.
"Mom, I worked for National Security," Tony replied. "Don't cry. I've known for years, now. I went digging through the records. Somebody fixed the birth certificate, but there are no doctor or hospital records. I don't care who my birth parents are. They're not real to me. You are. You and Dad. Don't ever think I don't love you, because I do."
"I was pregnant by your father but that ended in a miscarriage," Corinne wiped tears away. "I went out running with the others three months afterward. Your mother had you in the woods, baby," Corinne sniffled. Lucas put his arm around her. "She left you. I scented the blood while on the run. I had to force the turn so I could pick you up and carry you out of there before the others found the scent."
"They would have torn me apart," Tony nodded his understanding.
"George Chapman helped me get the papers pushed through," Corinne named the Grand Master before Weldon Harper. "I wasn't about to give you up, Anthony. I think we had a bond the minute I picked you up."
"Old George did a good job; I almost didn't get past the records he paid for, they were so well done," Tony said. "Mom, that doesn't matter. René is a parent but you'll still be my parents. That's what I'm trying to say. René isn't going to stop me from calling or communicating with you, since we are what we are."
"I appreciate your intervention," Corinne smiled tearfully at René. "We'd have gone to Anthony's funeral instead if you hadn't done this for him."
"This is a first for me; before I had to hide my children away from their former family, it was the only way," René said softly. "Of course, none of their relatives were what you are. This makes things much easier."
"How many children do you have?" Lucas Alford was curious.
"I have had six, but only two are alive at the moment," René replied.
* * *
Xenides didn't care what the vampire's motives were; he was getting the information he'd desired; the date and the location for the Annual Meeting. He had others set up in Kansas in case the princess showed up. They'd been more than willing to help—for the right price and the opportunity to strike out at their Bright cousins, even if the blood percentage wasn't to their standards. It would still be a blow and an offer to further an ancient war. He turned his attention back to the one who stood before him.
"You are sure of this?" Xenides asked, looking over the copy of the invitation. The original had been carefully settled back inside the safe from whence it came.
"Yes," the vampire replied. "I desire payment in one way only, in exchange."
"And that would be?" Xenides' eyes narrowed. He preferred to settle payment on his own terms.
"I wish for a particular vampire to be killed," came the reply.
"And that vampire is?" Xenides demanded. The name was handed over. "Oh, do not fear," Xenides reassured his newly acquired spy, "We will certainly take that one down."
* * *
"Father, I think we should tell Lissa," Franklin was close to tears as he watched the IV drip slowly; it was attached to Greg's hand. He'd been hospitalized with pneumonia. Oxygen was flowing and Franklin and Merrill both wore surgical masks inside the room.
"I'm not sure it is a good idea," Merrill said. "Wlodek says this as well." Franklin disagreed with Merrill but didn't say it, settling for mentally cursing Wlodek instead. He knew that Wlodek was pulling the strings on this decision. Wlodek had his own agenda; Lissa was tracking Xenides because he threatened the vampire race. Surely, there was enough time for Lissa to come and see Greg; he wasn't doing well at all. The doctors were dismayed when Greg contracted pneumonia. It was a heavy blow to an already weakened system and now Greg was in and out of consciousness. It would mean much to Greg and Lissa both if she were allowed to come. Franklin sighed instead and bowed to his father's wishes.
* * *
Winkler drove Lucas and Corinne Alford to the airport during the day so they could catch their flight. He was just getting back to the house when he caught me filching another bottle of water from the fridge inside the main house kitchen.
"Lissa, this is getting to be a habit," Winkler said, leading me to a barstool at the island. I hadn't even had a dream this time; I just woke up anyway. I sipped my water and watched Winkler.
"You know, I haven't had to get rid of the water or the wine or anything else I've drunk lately," I said. "And it hasn't made me sick, either. Usually I start feeling bad if I don't get rid of it within a couple of hours. Now, there's nothing." I drank more water.
"Have you told Gavin or any of the others about this?" Winkler raked a hand through thick, black hair. He was such a good-looking man, smiling easily when he was amused. At the moment, his nearly black eyes betrayed concern—for me. I had no idea how Kellee could have plotted his death with her father. Well, there was greed, but still.
"No," I shook my head at Winkler's question. How could I explain to Gavin that I wasn't coughing up water or wine? He would have that vampire physician on the phone immediately, trying to find out what was wrong with me. He was probably thinking about it already, and I might do the same if he were waking during the day and failing to eliminate everything ingested except blood. I had no idea what was going on with me—I didn't feel bad or anything. I felt fine. I was breathing, too, when I was awake during the day. I had no idea what effect that had on my rejuvenating sleep cycle. None at all.
"Come on, baby, let's get you back in bed." Winkler rose, but his cell phone rang. He pulled the phone out of his pocket. "It's Bill," he said and answered the call. I listened in.
"Mr. Winkler, we have a hit on Alif," Bill said. "Your software, actually. He was spotted in Chicago."
"What's happening in Chicago?" Winkler asked.
