Blood Solstice: Part Three in the Tale of Lunarmorte (22 page)

She threw
her hands up in half-assed exasperation. “Because! The trace exists
for one reason only… a weapon for each leader of each Coven. If I’m
the Head of both Covens then the purpose of its existence no
longer… well… exists! Surely the two traces would, like, I dunno,
cancel each other out. The gods wouldn’t see any reason for us to
have it anymore.”

The vamp
and faerie stared at her for what seemed forever and then they
looked to one another, and slowly, but surely, a mirror-image grin
began to spread on their faces. Reuben turned back to Caia, his
eyes glittering with respect. “That’s brilliant, Caia.”

“
You think so?” she whispered, feeling the first glimpse of
relief and warmth shimmer to life within her chest since the loss
of their pack.

“
I more than think so.” He turned and started shrugging into
his coat. “Right, we have the Prophet to find.”

18 – The
Prophet

The last few weeks had been excruciating to say the least.
Patience, she discovered, was not one of her virtues. But at least
she didn’t have to stay in that horrible place with Dee and her
band of merry bloodsuckers anymore. Caia never would have thought
she would be so grateful to be invited by Nikolai to stay at his
safe house.
His
safe house wasn’t a basement apartment full of blood and
empty kitchen cabinets. So, OK, the fridge in his safe house was
filled with bags of animal blood belonging to Reuben (courtesy of a
butcher – she wasn’t even going to ask when he had time to visit a
butcher, as she was beginning to realise there just wasn’t any
point interrogating the most mysterious person she had ever met)
but the safe house was a modest-sized beach house with no
neighbours for miles around. It was plush and luxurious inside and
Caia could lose herself in the sound of the surf, whilst they
anxiously waited for the Prophet to get back to them.

After
leaving Dee’s lair, Caia had tracked the Prophet down in the trace.
The old guy was in Greece, putting his feet up while the Midnights
figured out just who was in charge now Nikolai was A.W.O.L.
Tracking him was the easy part; it was getting a hold of him that
was proving to be problematic. Caia wasn’t confident enough in her
communication spell to travel to somewhere she had never been
before and she didn’t have Vil because, well, he was with the pack.
Saffron could transform into a bird and fly there but that would
take days they didn’t have. In the end it was Nikolai who came to
the rescue. Reuben called him and asked him if he had ever been to
the Prophet’s place in Greece and surprise, surprise the Midnight
had. Nikolai told Reuben to bring Caia and Saffron to his beach
house and he’d get the Prophet to come back with him to speak with
Caia. And that was exactly what he did.

Now, Caia
hadn’t known what she’d been expecting. OK. So she did know. She
had been expecting some withered old man with a long white beard,
wearing ancient Greek dress and banging around the place with a
staff. Pretty much Gandalf in ancient Greek clothing. The Prophet
hadn’t been anything like that. He had been old… like seventy old,
but with a full head of pepper grey hair and a trim physique. He
walked like a man years younger than he looked. He was all handsome
older man in white linen trousers and shirt. The dude was less
Gandalf more… Sean Connery. He’d been a charmer alright. He had
approached Caia with a careful smile, his light eyes drinking her
in from head to foot. Almost tentatively the Prophet had taken her
hand between the palms of both of his and shook it
gently.

“
So this is Caia Ribeiro.” He’d smiled, shaking his head in
wonderment. “You’re just what I imagined.”

That had
amused her. “Well, you’re the only one who pictured me like me. I
think people were imagining… taller and well… just
taller.”

He
chuckled warmly and nodded. “I’ve waited a long time to meet
you.”

“
So I’ve heard.”

“
And now you wish to speak with me?”

Caia had
gestured to Nikolai’s sofas and the Prophet had followed her to the
seating area. He had laughed a little at the way Reuben, Saffron
and Nikolai had trailed them, barely giving them room to
breathe.

“
Nice to see you, Kirios.” The Prophet grinned at
Reuben.

The
vampyre narrowed his eyes on him. “You’re last bout of information
regarding the Septum turned into crap. That’s why you’re
here.”

“
Jeez, Reuben, are you always so rude?” Caia had admonished
him and turned politely back to the Prophet. “Ignore
him.”

“
Ignore him?” Reuben spluttered. “Old man you sent us on a
twenty year goose chase.”

The old
man shrugged lazily but his eyes turned serious. “And yet here I am
speaking with Caia. And she has something very important to ask me.
Something that will matter. So… maybe the goose chase wasn’t really
a goose chase after all.”

Saffron
had taken that moment to roll her eyes. “Oh please, don’t give us
that everything happens for a reason bullcrap.”

Their
disrespect towards the Cassandrian had made Caia extremely
uncomfortable and she gritted her teeth, waiting for him to decide
their insults weren’t worth it and just… poof! Leave them with no
words of wisdom or plan.

But he
hadn’t done any of that. Instead he had pinned Saffron with an
implacable look and said in a voice that sent shivers racing down
Caia’s spine, “You’re a child of the gods and you don’t believe in
fate? If you don’t believe in fate then what have we been doing for
the last seven hundred years, Saffron?”

She
grumbled under her breath and tossed her hair. “I believe in fate,”
she’d said finally and then twitched a little before throwing
herself down into an armchair. “Sorry, I’m just very anxious and
very tired.”

The
Prophet had nodded, instantly dismissing her childish outburst. And
then he had turned his attention back to Caia. “Well, my dear, I
already know what you wish to ask. You wish to ask me, if you were
to become the Head of the Daylight Coven, as Head of both Covens,
could we ask the gods to take the trace away.”

Caia had
gaped at him. “Did Nikolai tell you?”

“
No,” the Prophet and Nikolai replied in unison.

The
Prophet had tapped his fingers to his head, smiling kindly as he
told her, “Visions, my dear. The gods see all and they communicate
through me.”

Excitement had buzzed through them all in that moment, all
three of them leaning in towards the old man together. “So?” she
had asked. “Will they? Will they take it away?”

Disappointingly the Prophet had merely shrugged. “They’re
still deliberating.”

“
What do you mean they’re still deliberating? What’s there to
deliberate about?”

At that,
he had let out a gust of laughter, leaving them all bemused, which
was pretty much how the entire meeting with him had gone so far.
“My dear girl, we are the gods’ only source of entertainment.
They’ll drag this out a little.”

“
And by a little, you mean?”

“
A few days, a few weeks-”

“
Not months,” Caia had gasped. “Please don’t say
months.”

“
I don’t know. But as soon as I do, I will return with the
answer.”

And then
he was gone.

“
Whoa.” Reuben shook his head. “That guy has had some serious
work done. Last time I saw him he was wheezing and banging around
with a stick.”

Nikolai
nodded. “He really let himself go during Devlyn’s reign. My Regency
did a world of wonders for him.”

Caia had
just stared at them like they were crazy. Sometimes they were so
inappropriately blasé.

***

So she
had been waiting for a couple of weeks now, slowly going mad as she
wandered from room to room. She had spent her time going for runs
on the beach as a human during the day and as a wolf at night.
Other than Reuben’s ‘helpful’ training regime every day, where he
tried to get her to focus the unknown energy that made her so
special – and they were getting there slowly but surely – he and
Nikolai weren’t much company. When Nikolai wasn’t complaining about
furniture and accessories he was losing to Caia’s training (she was
successfully turning items to ash by choice by now), he and Reuben
could literally sit still for hours, staring at nothing and
speaking to no one. It was creepy. As for Saffron, the faerie kept
coming and going as she pleased, and Caia had never envied anyone
more for their abilities than during those weeks cooped up in the
beach house with only a vampyre and a magik for company. With no
one to really talk to she found herself dwelling on the pack a lot.
At night it was hard not to cry herself to sleep thinking about
their loss. For her the biggest hurt was the loss of Dimitri. It
wasn’t just that he had looked out for her or cared for her; it was
more the thought of how much his loss was hurting the people
closest to her. Jaeden to be exact. Her friend had already suffered
through so much; Caia ached for her. And she ached, wondering if
she would ever have the pack back, admitting only to herself how
lonely she was without them; lonely without Lucien to fall asleep
with at night.

On top of
that there was her trace. It had begun tingling all over the place,
telling her the Midnights were reorganising themselves. Two magiks
were out in front for leadership, Jack Straton an Australian and a
Russian woman called Orina Beketov. Caia had been praying for
Straton to make the grade since he wanted to find Nikolai first (a
task she knew was impossible and would keep them occupied forever)
before taking on the Daylights. Beketov wanted to begin where they
had left off, starting with a major attack against the New York
Krôls, one of America’s largest vampyre covens. The worst day for
Caia came when the trace told her Orina had won the votes. She was
the new Regent of the Midnight Coven and the woman was as vicious
as they came. Her plans for the attack were all set in motion,
ready to take off in one month’s time. Of course Caia had wanted to
go straight to the Centre to let them know so they could prepare
themselves and warn the Krôls. But Nikolai and Reuben wouldn’t let
her, and by wouldn’t let her she meant Nikolai had put a spell
around her that stopped her from using her communication spell. And
she couldn’t find a way around it. Unfortunately, she still had so
much to learn.

***

It had
been a week since she had learned of the Midnight’s plan for
attack. For once they were all together, Saffron, Nikolai, Reuben
and her sitting around the kitchen actually participating in
conversation.

“
No, it’s definitely a different guy that’s the voice of
Kermit the Frog. It has been for years,” Reuben insisted as he
sipped from a mug of warm blood.

Nikolai
frowned. “No. We get Sesame Street in Russia too. You can’t fool
me… Kermit has sounded the same for decades.”

Caia
tried to hide her snort in her toast.

Reuben
groaned, “Yeah, because they found a guy who sounds exactly like
him.”

The
Russian looked pensive for a moment. “So… how long are we talking
about?”

“
I dunno… Jim Henson died in 1990.”

Nikolai shook his head looking disturbed. “No, that’s no
right. I see
Muppet Christmas
Carol
; that was definitely the original
Kermit.”

“
Oh.” Caia grinned, remembering watching that movie during the
lonely Christmas holidays she had spent with Irini. Obviously they
didn’t believe in Christmas and all that stuff but most
supernaturals celebrated it to fit in with the humans. “I love that
movie.”

Saffron
leaned back in her chair. “Were you even an egg when that movie
came out?”

“
It was 1992.” Reuben nodded. “Caia was just about to
hatch.”

“
No.” Nikolai insisted. “Then that can’t be right. You said
Henson did in 1990, da?”

“
Yeah and Steve Whitmire took over for him. He’s the voice of
Kermit the Frog in the
Muppet Christmas
Carol
.”

This
seemed to disturb Nikolai and Caia shared an amused look with
Saffron. He shook his head again. “I could have sworn Kermit has
always been Kermit. What I want to know is how he sounds so much
like the other man?”

Caia
grunted into her juice this time. “What I want to know is how
Reuben knows so much about this stuff?”

The
vampyre scowled at her. “Photographic memory.”

“
And Jim Henson’s Productions was one of the institutions you
felt necessary to study up on?” Saffron asked with a dead pan
face.

Caia
choked on a piece of toast.

“
Isn’t anyone going to rescue Caia from the toast?” A familiar
voice intruded. Caia was suddenly whacked on the back (hard) by
Nikolai and the toast dislodged itself. She looked up to see the
Prophet standing over the table.

“
Better?” he asked softly.

She
winced at the sting Nikolai’s hand had left but thanked him
nonetheless before turning back on the Prophet. She gazed up at him
imploringly. “Please tell me you have news.”