Page 4 of Light Fae's Love
He lifts his chalice in a toast.
Then begins his speech, to claim our Vampire allies in one last moment of solidarity tonight.
2
TRUTH
My speech is a resounding success as the Meeting of the Havens closes for yet another year. As the official pomp and circumstance finally ends, Devi invites everyone to egress from the Florence Hotel’s formal Hall of History to a more comfortable space. As we adjourn to the Garden Atrium in the deep midnight hour, only about twenty Masters linger. The last stragglers of the week, they chitchat and enjoy the remainder of the night before they depart back to their own Dark Havens.
And I get to have mine back—and finally take a moment to relax.
But we’re not there yet. As I escort Ariana into the outdoor hall, she in her 1930s blue pearl gown and me in my sleek cobalt satin tux, all heads turn. Only my closest allies from around the world mingle in the lush gardens now. Their pale skin glowing beneath the stars and moon, the last Masters are illuminated by wrought-iron torches of blue-gold fire set up throughout the space.
Arranged in sprawling tiers, the Garden Atrium is serene as I escort Ariana down the stairs into the afterparty. A cathedral-like space similar to my own Master’s rooms here at the Hotel, the atrium’s vaulted roof of crystal and stained glass is pulled back to enjoy the balmy August night.
As I enter, I drink in the moon’s intoxicating glow, breathing deep of Florence’s warm night filtering in all around. The garden holds a wealth of potted greenery, clustered around groups of chaises and wrought-iron furniture. As I lead Ariana over to a wrought-iron bar to get two glasses of the Hotel’s finest Chianti, my gaze wanders over the vines and trees, and exotic flowers that grow around the stone walls, reveling in their nighttime splendor.
Lion’s head fountains and gryphons spout jets of water into Florentine basins beside stone benches where Masters sit. Despite the attention Ariana and I receive as we arrive, this last afterparty of the Meeting is calm; everyone’s spirits are elevated since all the heady to-dos are finished.
The remaining Masters enjoying a peaceful gathering, as very old friends.
“Quindici! Finally!” A woman’s alto voice slices the air, making me turn from the drinks table. As I sip my wine, the fiercely compelling Mistress of Britain approaches, my close ally, the Lady Eiseth Pendragon.
The Mistress of Britain wears one of her draping dark blue Arthurian gowns tonight with an etched silver breastplate, arresting in her classic elegance. Silver gauntlets grace her wrists, a silver and gold circlet upon her cascades of ornately braided white hair. Ageless, she’s beautiful as her mist-grey eyes twinkle and we exchange kisses on the cheek, though I’ve never thought of her romantically. Smiling at me, she’s perfectly intense with her pleased alertness.
Everything I could ask for in an ally, and a good friend.
“Eiseth. Glad you could make it to this last party tonight.” I’m pleasant as I bring Ariana’s hand back to my arm, then retrieve my wine from the bar.
“Of course,” Eiseth says with genuine pleasure to see me, familiar but also kind. “Many of the Masters had to jet out already, but I don’t mind lingering for a few days to enjoy your hospitality, Quinn. Such a fine Hotel you have, and it is nice to relinquish my duties up in Britain to my Second for a while. Brigitte is enormously competent, and really should run her own Dark Haven by now, though she remains at mine.”
The Mistress of Britain is not displeased, however, about the exceptional leadership her Second provides as she chuckles, glancing around the party. I look around also now, seeing a few faces who are close allies of mine in the last lingering Masters tonight.
Nearby our little group, the Masters Eduardo and Calla Romero from Valencia laugh at something my Third in the Dark Haven of Florence, Curio Silverfrost, has said. Statuesque like Mediterranean supermodels in their matching ultra-modern black couture, the Spanish Masters are amused as they grin rapaciously, flashing fang.
The brother-sister duo is intense in their dark allure and haughty beauty. As they laugh, incredible pleasure whirls through me. I feel like laughing also as I hear their sudden elation; as Ariana guffaws beside me, I realize my Master’s protection inside her is working hard to foist that joy off from the twins. Exceptionally dangerous to anyone who encounters it, the duo has killed from making people laugh too hard.
I won’t let that happen to Ariana as I firm my protective wall inside her against the Valencian twin’s power.
“Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed just now.” Ariana looks apologetically at me and Eiseth as she blushes.
“Don’t be. It’s the Romero’s power affecting you,” I say back as I stroke her hand. “I’ve firmed my Master’s protection inside you now, so it does not touch you again.”
“You’ve never told me. What kind of magic do they have?” Ariana asks, having not heard the Spanish duo’s tale yet, though they are close allies of mine. Through our bond, I sense how deeply wary she is of them as their twin dark eyes glance over at us.
Both smiling wickedly to find I’m watching them.
“Ah, yes. The twins.” I say. Though I’m still cautious as I hold their power back from touching Ariana, I give a small smile. I know my allies well—and part of knowing them is knowing when to protect those I love from their power.
“The Romeros come from an ancient family of Tempests in Valencia, who donate a son or daughter every generation to the Valencian Vampires. The Romeros dominate Valencia through both their daytime family, the Tempesti, and their nighttime family, the Vampires. We do quite a lot of trade with them, for they love our Florentine wines, chocolates, coffees, and cordials. Which enhance their own natural Vampire-Tempest power with the charms we place on them.”
“I feel like they could make me laugh, dance, or cry myself to death.” Ariana watches as the pair kiss each other with heady delight now, their dark Vampire aura tinged a bright canary yellow and hot sunburnt orange as it surges around them. Tempests are volatile in the reactions they can provoke, pushing a person’s any emotion higher than it might normally go.
Vampire-Tempests even more so—nothing to be messed with, even for a Master such as myself.
“They’re inbred, to be sure, but powerful, and control an enormous chunk of Spain,” My Second in the Dark Haven of Florence, Devina Scarlotti, cuts in now as she gives an admonishing eyebrow lift, having joined our little group. “Tempest magic ignites the passions, and combined with a Vampire’s natural mind-mesmerization abilities, the Romeros can literally look at a person and give them a frenzy that kills. Have you heard of the Dancing Plague of 1518 in Alsace, France? That was the Romero twins. They were displeased with a vacation there, so they made several villagers in the human world dance themselves to death in a mass mania. They can be tremendous at parties, but are not to be crossed. Neither the twins, nor any of their family.”
“Noted.” Ariana blinks, and I feel her understand why I protect her so strongly from the Romeros, even though I’ve aligned with them for decades.