CHAPTER 19
~ Talismans of the Past ~
“Good,” Morna says as she sails into the room. “Kazar, your instincts are spot on, my vampy brother. Feeding her directly from your vein will give her more strength and make the bond between you stronger. She’ll need that bond to get through everything ahead.”
Kazar chuckles. “It was Callie’s instincts at work, Madame Spell Weaver.”
“Even better,” the redheaded dynamo says with a grin. Kazar frowns when Morrígan and a blond precede Nyle into their bedroom. The blond is familiar because he has seen her around the MC from time to time, but he just can’t recall her name or who she is connected to. Morna sees the vampire eyeing the blond and says; “That’s Val. My sister.”
And then the pieces click into place for Kazar and Nyle, who had also been troubled by the presence of the woman who looked so familiar. “You dare to bring one of Nyx’s servants into my home?” The vampire roars his fury.
“I do indeed,” Morna snaps furiously, drawing herself up to her full impressive height of over six feet tall. This was a woman who did not easily back down, and Callie grew to admire her even more in that moment. “The Queen Bitch had a brand new set of abilities when she encountered my sister than the ones she possessed when she turned you to vampire. If Nyx had those same abilities at your turning, you would have never escaped her control on your life. And had my sister not been waiting and watching for a weakening in the veil between this world and the Nihility, even the Arbiter’s crashing into that plane would not have been enough to eject you from Nyx’s captivity. It was Valgullveig, whom you seem to revile on sight, who yanked your ungrateful ass from Nyx’s clutches!”
Callie finally releases her hold on Kazar’s wrist and smiles at the newcomer. “I know you,” she says with a happy light in her eyes. “Kazar, this is the woman who saved me the night those thugs broke into my shop.”
“What?” Nyle and Kazar demand at the same time.
“A couple of months before Finn Connor attacked, four gang members broke into my store when I was working late getting out a big order from my catalog.” She rubs her face as though confused. “Uh, I’m a bit fuzzy on the details, but…”
“Sorry,” the blond speaks up for the first time since entering the room. “I used a teeny-tiny confusion spell to keep you from remembering the details. Those were Stone Colds, and they were there to kill you.” The lovely blond chuckles and says; “I bet you don’t even recall the cleanup crew from the SPU that showed up, do you?” She smirks and casts a taunting look at Kazar who is still staring daggers at her. “You seemed quite taken with Devlin Fraser at the time.”
Callie blushes at the thought of the tall shifter enforcer with ice blond hair and blue eyes that seem to see right into her soul. While she’s not sexually attracted to the male, well no more than any other red-blooded woman would be, she is drawn to him. It is almost as though her soul recognizes Dev Fraser would be a good friend or ally to have on her side.
Callie shakes her head no. “No, I don’t recall any of that. But Devlin did seem familiar when I saw him at the MC.” Her smile brightens and she tries to rise from the bed to greet the newcomers.
“Stay put, dearie,” Morrígan says drolly. “I’d hate to see you fall on your lovely arse when the next vision hits.”
“What?” Callie demands.
“Your aura,” Val says. “Your mind is connecting with your past. I bet you are about to visit your final past incarnation.”
Before anyone can question Morrígan or Val as to how they know any of this, Callie slumps over as the magick takes her consciousness back in time. Nyle and Kazar are instantly at her side, and Kazar takes them into the vision with their beloved.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
“Mānaia!” The lilting voice of her mother carries on the wind to the girl’s ears between loud clashes and clangs of her hammer on the steel she is working on her anvil.
“Ten more minutes,” Mānaia calls out between wielding the hammer that will render the metal into the shape she envisions. But after just a moment, her beloved Mama is forgotten as the work continues. Mānaia always pours her heart and soul into her work when making her blades and armor. Ever since her father, Amador Herrero – a metal smith who immigrated to Samoa from Toledo, Spain taught the craft to his daughter, it has become her obsession, her passion. Especially since his death last year. She can feel her father’s presence every single time she works a piece of metal in their workshop. More often than not, Mānaia can be found working over her forge, banging raw metal into her latest creation. Mānaia has no idea how long she has been lost in her work when she finally realizes she has company in the workshop. She looks up to see her friend, Mr. Fraser, watching her with a very amused expression on his exceptionally handsome face.
“Oh my goodness, you startled me!” she says when she accidently drops the hammer, narrowly missing her own foot. She bends down to retrieve the hammer and casts another glance at the very attractive white man. “I told you that I would not be finished with your battle ax until next week.” She casts a look down at the unfinished ax on her anvil and shrugs.
“It looks near finished to me,” he says with his rich Scottish burr.
Mānaia pushes a damp tendril of hair away from her lovely round face. Her dark eyes radiate intelligence and curiosity, and her deep brown skin glows in the heat of her forge as her thin cotton clothing clings to her sweaty body, revealing her secrets to any who cared to look. Working over a forge with hot metal in the Samoan summertime is not a feat for the weak hearted. But Mr. Fraser has promised a hefty bonus if she finishes early, so she has been working non-stop.
She doesn’t want to admit that she won’t be ready to release her work to its intended owner right away. If the people around Apipa knew that she “communed” with her projects, they’d think she was a witch or something. “It may look near ready, but it’s not. Come back next week, as agreed,” Mānaia insists sternly.
“Now, now, where is the silver tongue and spirit of a diplomat they rave about down at the town square?”
Mānaia giggles. “She’s nowhere to be found when it comes to my creations,” the young woman admits ruefully. “Politics, civil war, and social unrest are much easier for me to discuss dispassionately.” She uses her smith’s tongs to pick up the double bladed ax head for a closer inspection. “When it comes to my steel…” she shrugs, not willing to explain her connection to her creations to a near stranger.
The handsome man chuckles and says; “Well, little one, as impressive and valuable as your metal working skills are, I must urge you, do not forget those skills of arbitration and your talent for redirecting and reshaping inflamed passions. Battles are not won by weapons alone. In fact, they are never truly won until the silver-tongued diplomats have had their final say.” With that odd comment, the man turns and strides from the workshop.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
When the triad finds themselves back in their bedroom, they look at each other in shock. Callie instantly turns accusing eyes on Valgullveig. “You knew?” She attempts to rise from the bed, and her mates assist her without question. “You knew, Devlin Fraser was in my last vision? You knew that he knew me before?”
“I wasn’t sure what your last vision would show, but aye, I knew you and Dev had met before,” says Val, wholly unapologetic. “He’s been one of your guardians. While we could not watch you every moment of every day, many have taken turns checking on you over the centuries to lend a hand to the Raven. Even Morna and Mara in their various incarnations have popped in to check on you.” She sweeps her arms out to encompass Morrígan and Morna. She smirks. “Morna didn’t know why she was asked to watch over you, she only knew that she was occasionally asked to check up on a human woman who had attracted the attention of Nyx and her minions.” Val looks down at her feet to mutter. “Despite our best efforts, you have been attacked in every incarnation by the blood horde.”
Callie wants to assure the Norse goddess that she harbors no ill will toward anyone who sought to keep her safe, but she is distracted when Morrígan steps forward and smiles sheepishly. “The last two of your part-time guardians will arrive any moment. Hopefully, once you have the last remaining talismans from your past lives, the pieces will all fall into place for you.” Morrígan’s words are optimistic, but her expression and tone are not. “If it doesn’t happen today, do not blame yourself, dearie. The decision was made by those higher up the food chain to not explain anything to you as we went along, so you are faced with solving a puzzle which is missing more than a few pieces.”
A knock on the front door of the home causes Callie to raise an eyebrow in question. “Don’t you people just flash into wherever you want to go?”
Morna laughs. “Some are not capable of teleportation. I was not until my son taught me. Everyone’s talents are different. Besides, this home is well warded to keep you safe. Only those invited can enter. We entered through the front door after knocking like normal people.”
Morrígan looks at Nyle and Kazar, as though to ask, “You gonna get that?” Nyle huffs his exasperation and demands; “Just who might I be opening my door to now?”
“They are not enemies,” Morna assures confidently.
Nyle scoffs. “The way you folks are going around mind fucking everyone with your games, secrets, and innuendoes, I’m not at all certain you are our friends.”
Morrígan’s temper flares, and Callie revels in the power that momentarily radiates from her guardian, her body and her spirit seem to soak it up like a sponge and she feels stronger for it. “Celt, if I were your enemy, you would godsdamn well be fully aware of it.”
“Easy, Morrígan. He’s young and he’s a shifter who has not yet claimed his pregnant mate. The drive to protect Callie must be driving the poor kid nuts,” Val says gently. “And you gotta admit, the limits placed on us is one giant mind-fuck for those who are not in on what’s to come.”
Nyle snorts dismissively and exits the room with only a glance at his mate, entrusting the vampire to protect their female. During his short absence, Callie hits the three Immortal women with a barrage of questions, most of which they deftly deflect until Nyle returns leading none other than Devlin Fraser and the Roman goddess of healing, Febris.
“You?” Callie squeaks. “You were one of my guardians?”
Febris shakes her head. “Only in so far as Mars charged me to watch over you for a short time. I’m here because of what you entrusted to me before you died.”
She hands over a small metal chest with an ornate key lying on top of it. Kazar steps forward to take it from the healer’s hands. “What’s this?” he demands.
The dark haired goddess shrugs. “I have no idea. Bella said to entrust it to someone who would do the right thing.” She looks sheepish. “In my opinion, very few will do the right thing. So I hid it where no one could find it.”
“And yet you willingly surrender it to me, a stranger?” Callie questions skeptically.
“You are not a stranger, Bella. I recognized your aura the moment I entered this room.”
Callie looks shocked by this revelation. “How do you think Nyx found you in every incarnation? Auras do not change when a soul is reborn into a new life,” Val reveals. “Nyx had a great many Immortals working secretly on her behalf who could see auras and identify you, no matter the different faces you wore in each life time. Dark power, like that Nyx and her children possess, can be very seductive and insidious. That kind of power makes it very easy to recruit and keep loyal minions.” She looks almost stricken when she admits this, and Callie wonders at the story behind that look.
Kazar hands the box to Callie and her eyes light up the moment realization hits. She chuckles and murmurs; “Oh man, the Hollywood Madame’s diary has nothing on what’s in this box.”
“What do you mean?” Devlin steps forward, obviously very curious. As an enforcer, he would be very interested in the contents of the steel box.
“Bella collected evidence on dirty Immortals. Casa Lussuriosi developed quite a reputation for catering to the “darker” needs of the supernatural set. When Bella was in charge, it had become the preferred place in Genoa to hold secret meetings and indulge in a bit of debauchery at the same time. The documentation of many a dirty deed and secret deal is in this box,” Callie admits. She looks over at Febris and smiles. “I think you were very wise to never look inside and keep it hidden.” The goddess merely shrugs and gives Callie a look that says “Well, duh.”
Febris looks over at Morrígan and asks in a somewhat whiny tone, “May I leave now?”
Morrígan chuckles and nods. Febris looks delighted and casts a quick glance at Callie. “Good luck, Beautiful One, I think you will need it.” And with those words, she flashes out.
“I thought the wards protected this place?” Callie demands with a confused expression on her face.
“From getting in, not getting out,” Morna says with a sigh. “Magick is freaking confusing. There are rarely set rules as each practitioner wields magick differently. You’ll understand better as you connect with your dragon and practice what you are taught. And what you can’t parse out on your own, you have three capable practitioners right here who will help you learn.”
“Enough!” Morrígan huffs, her impatience plainly showing. “Give her the other talismans!”
Val chuckles and steps forward to extend her open hand. In a moment, a trio of three wide wooden bangles appear on her hand. “These are talismans of your life as Nzuri…”
Callie squeals in delight and reaches for the three bangles, and eagerly opens them and clasps them around her upper arm with what looks like practiced ease, even though the ingenious latches should have been difficult to figure out. She fingers two of them with a huge smile on her face. “My mother… rather Nzuri’s mother… was a wise woman among her people. A keeper of stories and magick. These bangles,” her fingers trace the delicate carvings with an expression of awe on her face, “are much like a grimoire.” She fingers the scorched edges of the bracelets and frowns at Val. “Why are they burnt?”
Val chuckles. “As I admitted earlier, I was a servant to Nyx for many centuries. I was present the night the vamps arrived with Nzuri’s head and the bangles.” She casts an apologetic glance at Callie and her mates for her seemingly callous remark. “At any rate, Nyx threw a fit when her errand boys gave her these bracelets. The rumors had it that the mortal Nzuri wore three golden bangles of great worth. When Nyx saw that they were made of wood, she cast them into the fire. I retrieved them when no one was looking and hid them away.”
“Thank you,” Callie says with a genuine smile on her lovely face. “Each bracelet bears ‘The Golden Rule’.” She chuckles dryly and says; “It was the only bit of the White Missionary teachings that Nzuri’s mother saw true value in. So she carved them into her two bracelets. And Nuzuri carved it into her bracelet as well.”
“What else did she carve into the third bracelet?” Kazar asks gently.
“Ah, Nzuri had a skill… an ability to help angry or greedy people put those negative traits aside to negotiate with a clear head. She could help them reach a reasonable, fair, and appropriate deal using her influence.” She fingers the third bracelet and says; “These designs are truly ornate renditions of Swahili symbols and Portuguese writing.” Callie shakes her head. “I don’t recall the details, but I think with some study and a good magnifying glass, I can sort it out.”
“And what do you bring?” Kazar demands of Devlin.
The tall blond shifter smiles and turns his attention to Callie. “Do you recall my comment about mind over metal and the importance of diplomacy?”
Callie chuckles. “That’s not exactly what you said, but yes, I think that I do recall the conversation. It was the subject of the vision I had earlier.”
He steps out of the room and comes back immediately with an enormous ornate steel breastplate which was obviously crafted for a woman, a very large woman. The detailed metal work is lovely, but more importantly, Kazar can feel the magick infused in the armor. Callie takes the heavy piece from the shifter and examines it closely. “Mānaia did not work with leather…” her fingers toy with the fine padded leather backing on the breast plate and the straps that would fasten around the wearer. She also wonders what use a simple breastplate alone would be in a true battle. Her recollections of Fagr’s time raiding with the gallóglaigh have instilled a very graphic understanding of just how deadly and dangerous such battles truly are. A breast plate alone would offer little protection.
“Nay, you did not, little one. But I do. I was called back to Australia when my clan was attacked by a band of roving Blood Wraiths. We realized later it was a deliberate distraction designed to get your protector out of the way.”
He looks down at his feet and says; “I am sorry, Callie. It was an impossible decision for me. Stay to protect one young woman or go save my entire clan. I had thirty-five shifters relying on me as their Alpha. I truly had no choice, but I deeply regret leaving you unguarded.”
Callie tosses the cumbersome breast plate on the bed and quickly waddles over to awkwardly hug Devlin. Finally, she gives up on the attempt because the baby is kicking up a storm, as though in protest, and both of her males are growling behind her.
“No one could reasonably expect you to have chosen differently. Mānaia would not have wanted her wellbeing placed above that of so many others and neither do I. You did the right thing.”
Dev smiles sadly at the woman before him. “I went back to your workshop after your mother found your decapitated body, and I could not resist admiring your workmanship. I could feel you in every single completed piece.” He blushes and looks away. “I bought nearly every piece you made from your mother. A few of the weapons I have given away over the years as gifts to those who needed such things for protection, but for the most part, I still have your entire collection intact.”
“Why?” Callie asks.
“I’m not sure,” he admits with a rueful grin. “They seem important to our mission. So I’ve kept them in a secret place to keep them safe. When I recognized your aura at the MC, I went to retrieve a piece for you. I didn’t know which one, until this one spoke to my spirit.” He looks oddly embarrassed and adds; “When the time is right, this bit of your handiwork will protect you. I don’t know exactly how, but I know it will.”
The four guardians step back and watch Callie expectantly. As the seconds on the clock tick by, she grows uncomfortable under their scrutiny. “I get the impression that you four are waiting for me to do or say something, but I haven’t a clue…”
Morrígan curses and shakes her head. “Aye, it’s not time yet.” She looks over at the other redhead in the room and asks; “Morna, do you mind doing another healer’s read on her, just to be safe? Then we can leave these three in peace. I’m thinking their lack of a mating bond might be what’s holding things up.”
“But I thought it was supposed to happen before the baby was born?” Dev says cryptically.
“Okay,” Nyle growls. “If you fuckers can’t speak plainly, then just get the hell out of my house. I’m sick and tired of not getting straight answers when my mate’s life is on the line.”
Morna chuckles and moves to give Callie a quick healer’s read. “She’s doing great,” the spell weaver says sounding a bit surprised. “Stronger than before, in fact.”
“Good, now leave,” Nyle repeats.
The guardians are laughing when they flash out of the room.