When she was made the Vampire Queen, she suddenly became the ground-breaking, glass-ceiling shattering woman who ushered in a new level of female involvement in the supernatural realms. Because of Evie – the first of the queens – it was widely accepted and understood that the queens were not only as powerful as the kings and as necessary at the Table of the Thirteen, they were more powerful. They were quite literally like the queens on a chess board. They were in control, and without them the game would be lost.
Dahlia greatly respected her new found vampire friend. That was why she’d turned to her in this hour of need. When it came down to it, Evie was right. Dahlia needed to get this off her chest.
“Watch your step when we get out,” warned Evie softly. Then she smiled. “And tell me what you think.”
Dahlia looked down to make sure she wouldn’t stumble when she stepped out of the portal that had transported them from the vampire mansion in the Redwood forest to the underground cavern she’d heard so much about. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been expecting; stories of what the cave looked like were sparse and incomplete, and none of them meshed. From what she’d heard of Evie’s underground hide-away, the cavern could be one of many things: It was a vast stalactite-filled hole sporting an underground river and a waterfall. Or it was a lush underground rainforest with mushrooms and grass and vibrant blooms. Some suggested it was filled with crisscrossing bridges and tiny trickling streams. Others insisted it had luminescent creatures lighting the cave from above. Some even claimed it had a cabin in it. Dahlia seriously had no idea what kind of image to draw in her mind.
Until she stepped out into the actual cavern – and realized that it had all of those things.
“Holy ginormous geodes …” she muttered softly. She stood in one spot and slowly turned, trying for the life of her to take it all in. But she had literally never seen anything so amazing or beautiful, and she was a fae who’d lived a very long time.
The cavern was enormous, stretching the length of two football fields, its ceiling so high up, it was barely visible. Bioluminescent mushrooms, algae, and flower blooms carpeted the ceiling and part of the walls. They shed enough light to mimic the sun just after twilight; it was a soft, warm and welcoming glow.
A massive waterfall against one wall poured fresh, clean drinking water into a small river that ran through the center of the cavern. It was wide and deep enough to go swimming in, but not so wide or deep that it was daunting. The water was crystal clear, and the river divided the cave’s ground into what effectively became islands. Each rounded island was connected by small, intricately carved wooden bridges.
Some of the bridges had ivy and various flowers wrapping through their carvings. Dahlia was fond of gardens and flowers, even though Poppy and Lily would never believe it of her. She kept that more feminine, softer side of herself hidden because it had always bothered her enough to be the Tuath fae she was. Tuathans were notoriously stunning, and sex was at the core of their existence. Appearing any more feminine than necessary was like a nod to that sexuality and a twist of the thorn in her side. But true to her name, she did secretly adore flowers. Even so, she didn’t recognize any of these blooms here. They were exotic and shimmering, magical in nature.
Other bridges possessed gas lights that flickered invitingly. Each separate island had a single tree that grew from thick grass or soft-looking moss. The branches of these trees stretched over their islands like Banyan tree benches, waiting to be climbed. The buds on these branches were brightly colored, and some looked to be bearing fruit as well. It looked like some sort of Disney World water or theme park or both.
The air in the cavern was the perfect temperature, not too hot, not too cold. The waterfall provided a far-off static, the rivers babbled and flowed at a constant, calming pace, but most inviting of all was the small thatch-roofed cottage that rested on the biggest island at the center of the cavern.
Smoke curled from the single chimney in the cottage’s roof, but the air in the giant cave remained pure and fresh. It smelled clean in here, like rain. More magic, no doubt.
All along the lower half of the walls of the cave, crystals of various colors and sizes grew and glimmered, dressing the cavern in what looked like gemstones. Dahlia slowly made her way over to the nearest of them and ran her hand along shimmering jewels of yellow, pink, and blue. “Unbelievable,” she whispered. Some of them were gemstones, both precious and semi-precious. These in particular were multi-colored sapphires. A female Tuath fae of her age and upbringing would know them anywhere.
She dropped her hand and pulled her gaze from the stones to the house at the center of the cavern. She stared at it in silence a long moment. Finally she asked, “Is that an actual house?” For some reason, she had the impression of such perfection, she likened the abode to a doll house or a façade. It was too beautiful.
“It is,” said Evie. “It’s my house. All mine.” She laughed and grinned, then took off at a run down a path of sorts, leading the way across several bridges. Dahlia was quick to follow, keeping up until they stood in front of the cottage.
“Roman brought me here when we first met and were having all that trouble with that other vampire, Charles. Eventually, it became my get-away for writing or just thinking. And then he told me it was all mine, which he proved when I kicked him out one night and he actually left like a gentleman.”
“Those are rare.”
“Houses in caverns?”
“No, gentlemen.”
“Indeed.” Evie nodded and opened the cottage door. “Come in,” she gestured with a head tilt before stepping inside. Evie may not have been literally aware of it, as her breed of vampire didn’t need permission to enter someone’s abode, but Dahlia’s did. The only one who seemed completely impervious to this restrictive rule was the Entity himself, no doubt the first of his species of vampire. But for the others, it held fast. Personally owned homes were barred from Dahlia’s entry unless she was invited in. So Evie’s invitations could not have been more appropriately timed.
It had been impossible to tell from the outside, but the cottage was actually two-story. A tiny kitchen, dining room, and rocking chairs in front of a stone hearth occupied the first floor. A winding wooden staircase led to a loft, and in that loft Dahlia could see a bed.
There were actually two fireplaces in the cottage, one on the first floor and one on the far wall of the loft. She could hear warm crackling and see the orange-yellow glow from the one above.
“I’ve never seen so much magic in one place before,” Dahlia said. She could feel the magic all around her; it was like walking in a dream. There was no pain, there were no unpleasant smells, there was no danger.
“That may actually be true. Not only did Roman build this over the course of his badass life with nothing but warlock magic, it has so many wards on it, no one can get in here without me accompanying them. Literally. I have to transport us in, or forget it.”
Dahlia turned to her friend. “No one? Not even Roman?”
“Well, Roman is a given exception. The man can do whatever he wants,” Evie shook her head and rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were flushing with something pleasant. “But besides him?” She laughed and shook her head. “Not even Lalura Chantelle.”
This made Dahlia’s brows hit the ceiling. She was assuming this was not a tested theory. But it was impressive, nonetheless, that Evie would even think such a thing. If she believed Chantelle couldn’t get in – then it was probably true that no one else in the realms actually could.
“It’s amazing,” Dahlia told her.
“Thanks,” Evie said. “Let’s have a seat.” She led the way to the table and as they approached, a tea set, cakes, cookies, and other pastries appeared atop it. At once, Dahlia could smell them. They were steaming fresh.
And just like that, she felt both agitated and frustrated.
Evie sat down, but froze when she noticed that Dahlia had hesitated behind her. Something akin to understanding dawned on
the Vampire Queen’s features. “I recommend the double chocolate chip. You’ll recognize some of your own chocolate in that one.”
Dahlia cut her gaze to Evie, peeling them off the cookies with something like a vengeance. Could she seriously have forgotten that Dahlia couldn’t eat anything? How could she forget, as a vampire herself? Sure, Evie’s warlock magic made it possible for her to eat whatever she wanted, but of all people, Dahlia had expected her to understand that Dahlia was different. She wasn’t that kind of vampire. She wasn’t half warlock and half Akyri, like Roman’s vampires were, and she couldn’t eat food!
Was Evie delusional? Or was she just teasing her to be intentionally cruel? That couldn’t be it. It wasn’t something she’d have expected from Evelynne D’Angelo, not in ten lifetimes. The woman was practically composed of empathy.
“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” Maybe she was trying to toughen her up or something.
“Not at all. It’s truly better than the croissants, which Roman hasn’t yet perfected.”
Dahlia blinked. Confusion ran rampant through her brain. “What?” she finally asked.
Now Evie grinned, and this time, Dahlia could see her fangs, all pretense gone. Evie picked up a chocolate chip cookie, held Dahlia’s gaze, and took a massive bite. Dahlia watched in fascination as she chewed – and then swallowed. “They’re made for people like us, Dahlia. Dig in.”
Holy….
“Yeah,” said Evie around her toothy grin. “This one’s just as good as I remember.”
Chapter Five
Dahlia had never dived for anything so fast in her long life. The first cookie she downed, she barely tasted, though there was a lingering deliciousness across her tongue that melted into the background of her consciousness as she took three big bites of her second cookie.
There was a sound coming from her, some kind of cross between a low growl, a sort of moan, and an inkling of pig-like scarfing. She couldn’t have cared less.
Evie leaned forward, resting her head in her hands and her elbows on the table. “I would have brought you here right away after you’d been turned, but Roman was worried about a transformation backlash.”
Dahlia looked up. A transformation backlash sometimes occurred when someone was turned into a vampire. At least with Roman’s breed, the dark magic that caused the transformation could sometimes overwhelm a mortal’s mind and… well, bad things happened.
Since none of Roman’s vampires had even been aware other vampires existed, Dahlia could understand Roman’s concern that being turned by no less than the Entity himself would cause one hell of a backlash in Dahlia. But it turned out she wasn’t that kind of vampire. And that the transformation itself was damn well bad enough as it was.
Dahlia finished chewing, swallowed another warm, gooey, chocolaty bite, and had a decision to make. Ask the question resting on her tongue? Or have another pastry?
She picked up a cupcake and took a bite so big, it left multi-colored frosting all over her nose. Evie chuckled. “You’re quite the picture. A drop-dead stunning woman with an even more stunning body devouring more sugar than every model in the world has ever ingested in all of their lifetimes combined. You know, there are a lot of guys out there who would get really turned on watching you right now.”
Now Dahlia laughed as well, nearly spewing chocolate crumbs across the table. She had the forethought to close her lips and even cover her mouth, however. When she swallowed, she glanced at the tea pot and its two delicate tea cups and gave Evie a questioning glance. Evie nodded.
Dahlia grabbed the pot, poured herself a steaming cup, and then dumped a bunch of milk into on top of it. When it was good and creamy, she lifted the porcelain to her lips and inhaled slowly. The tea’s delicate scent was perfect. She took a sip.
“Oh my gods.”
“I agree. He did a particularly good job on that,” said Evie. “Though I suspect Lalura had something to do with it as well, since she likes to visit Roman for tea.”
Dahlia slowly lowered her cup. “Roman made all of this?” she asked gesturing to the entire tabletop of delights, but really she meant not only the stuff on the table, but also all that lay beyond it in the cavern.
“He did. He wanted to create a food for vampires that it wouldn’t take warlock protections to ingest. Say, if you’re exhausted, you’re fresh from the fight, and you’re sapped of power. You need rest and nourishment, and frankly, it’s times like that you need the taste of fat and sugar the most. So he researched, studied, practiced, made a whole lot of disgusting mush, and finally came up with a few pretty tasty treats. Most people can’t tell the difference between the ones he created and the real deal.”
Dahlia looked down at the table, turned to glance out the cottage window, then settled back in her chair. “You said Roman wouldn’t let you bring me here at first. Does that mean he somehow knew you’d be bringing me today and suddenly agreed it would be okay?”
Evie shrugged. “Not exactly. When you were turned, I mentioned that you could probably use a place like the cavern to hang out in. He immediately understood I wanted to bring you here and suggested it might not be wise until we knew for sure you weren’t going to go postal. That was then. This is now. I made my own judgment call.”
Dahlia looked at Evie a long time. One of the things she’d always liked about Evelynne was the lack of artifice. When she smiled, she meant it. When she reached out, it was because she wanted you to take her hands and hold on tight.
“This couldn’t have come at a better time,” Dahlia told her friend.
“I know,” Evie said, and this time, her smile dropped. “It’s a lot better than Lifeblood, isn’t it?”
Dahlia nodded. There was no contest.
“And it’s better than mortal blood too, isn’t it?” Evie asked next.
Dahlia bit her lip. She flinched, slowly straightened, and wiped her lip on the back of her hand. It came away smeared with a small amount of blood. She closed her eyes, sighed, and sat back again in her chair. “Okay,” she said. “Let me have it.”
Evie poured herself a cup of tea. “How many?” she asked, as if she were asking how many lumps of sugar one might want in their cup.
Dahlia cleared her throat; it was tightening a little. She looked down at her hands in her lap. The tiny bit of blood on one of them now was a miniscule representation of the real amount of blood on her hands. “Three,” she admitted softly. “So far.”
Evie finished pouring the tea, replaced the pot, and started with the milk. “I’m impressed,” she said softly. “Between you and me, at your stage I’d killed twice as many.”
Dahlia realized she’d gone still, and when she realized she’d done so, she wondered how long she’d been that way. She blinked as Evie’s words echoed in her ears. After a few more moments, she asked, “What?”
Evie took a deep breath and let it out as if she were readying herself for what she was about to divulge. “You know that feeling you get when you’re first transformed… after the shock of it wears off and you realize that you can lift a pickup truck with one hand and control a person’s mind and even fucking fly across the ocean if you want to?”
Dahlia slowly smiled. Oh yeah. She knew.
“That feeling that makes you realize you can kick some major ass, and that the world is full of asses that need kicking?”
Dahlia nodded. She knew about too.
“I had that feeling,” said Evie, “and I just had to do something with it. I couldn’t wait to get out there and even the odds.”
“In the fae realms, we call that ‘going Wisher’,” Dahlia chuckled.
Evie grinned. “Do you really?” She laughed softly. “I guess I can see that.”
“Well, we used to call it that,” Dahlia corrected with a shrug. “Not so much anymore, as you can imagine.” The queens to the Seelie and Unseelie Realms were both Wishers now, and though the women would probably just find the referral amusing, the truth was, the kingdoms each loved their queens qui
te a bit. So out of respect, they’d stopped using the term.
Evie nodded. “I understand.”
“Go on,” urged Dahlia. “You were saying.”
Evie took another deep breath. “The first was a woman, believe it or not. See, as a human I had human friends. Shortly after I was turned, I was speaking with one of them, a woman by the name of Jane. Something was off about her. She was pale, her blood pressure was elevated – we can hear that, we can smell that. You know what I’m talking about.”
Dahlia nodded.
“I could tell she was exhausted. There was that shadowy puffiness under her eyes, and the whites were veined with red.” Evie shook her head, her gaze shifting to a moment in the past. “I asked her what had happened, and she finally opened up and admitted that she and her little girl had recently been assaulted by a woman strung out on meth. Now, you have to understand something about Jane. She’s a fighter. She’s never backed down from confrontation. When she was fresh out of high school in fact, she literally stood up to an entire gang. They broke her nose, cracked her jaw, and knocked out a tooth. She helped the police apprehend a group of rapists who had been stalking her. She faced things head on and went about her life.”
Evie took a sip of her tea, which was miraculously still steaming as if it had just finished boiling in an electric kettle. Dahlia loved magic.
“But when she was twenty-six, she became pregnant and wound up raising an autistic child alone. She learned to avoid the kinds of situations she used to roll up her sleeves at – because getting into that kind of trouble posed a threat to her little girl. Her daughter means everything to Jane.”