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“Please tell her thank you.”
“A lot of Irish in Wilmington,” Hugh said.
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about that.”
“It could be a god or it could be something else, and either way, it’s likely dangerous. Watch yourself.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Whatever you do, don’t feed it to Curran.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Call me if you need help. Gods know you could use it.”
“If I did call you, what would you do? You’ve gone soft in your country lord life, in your keep, with your wife baking delicious desserts for you and your gang of children.”
“That’s good. I’ll remind you of that next time you call. And by the way, you can call even when you don’t need something. And you can visit.”
“I know. Take care.”
“You too.”
We did visit, eight months ago. Which was why Paul had had to work extra hard to convince Curran that there was absolutely no way to put a moat around our new residence. He still wanted it and swore he’d find a way somehow.
I finished the last swallow of my delicious coffee and went on my way.
As soon as we left the Food Lion parking lot, Cuddles picked up the pace, clopping her way on the crumbling highway like she had some place to be and needed to get there. Horses could be convinced to go faster or slower, but donkeys had a mind of their own, so I gave thanks to the donkey gods and enjoyed the ride.
Eventually we left the city behind and entered the wooded stretch that separated Wilmington proper from the little town of Porter’s Neck. Before the Shift, they were part of the same metro, but the hazards brought by the magic waves made the towns contract to their own boundaries. Here woods hugged the road, birches, maples, magnolias, all magic-fed to record size. Keeping the forest at bay was a constant fight, and the humans didn’t always win it.
The moon lit my way, its light pouring from the sky. The road ahead almost glowed. Things tracked my progress from the gloom between the trees, their eyes shining in every color. Sometimes instead of a pair, it was one giant eye, sometimes three, set in a triangle. One time it was eight, high in the tree, glowing with eerie magenta. If a giant spider decided to jump onto my head, I’d have a devil of a time convincing Cuddles to keep going in the right direction.
The eyes blinked out on both sides of the road, as if snuffed out by a gust of wind. Hurried rustling announced several furry creatures beating a very fast retreat. I glanced behind me. A vampire crouched on the road. This one was old, gristled and leathery, with claws the size of curved paring knives. Its ruby eyes stared at me with unblinking focus.
About time. It had followed me all the way from the Farm, its presence an annoying red spark on the edge of my mind.
The undead stood up straight. Cartilage crunched as the joints realigned themselves to a posture that was no longer natural. The vampire walked over and took a knee.
“Sharratum,” the undead intoned in Rimush’s voice.
Sighing wouldn’t have been politic. “Just Kate, son of Akku. I renounced that title. And all that went with it.”
“It’s who you are. You cannot renounce it any more than you can renounce being human.”
This would be a complicated conversation. “Join me.”
The undead shifted back to all fours, and we started down the road side by side.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“To serve you.”
“But I don’t want to be served.”
Rimush’s voice was slightly mournful. “Some rulers wear the crown with pride because they see it as a prize they have won. Some take it as their due, never doubting that it should be theirs. Yet others chafe under it, for it is heavy and the weight of many souls clings to its gold. It is those who push away the power who end up benefitting their people the most.”
“I’m not fit to rule.”
The vampire sighed. “And yet, rule you must.”
“Why?”
“Because your people need you.”
“How are you my people?” My people were back at Fort Kure.
“Your father brought us into this unfamiliar, new world. Everything we know is gone. Our kingdom is a distant memory. Our temples and monuments are gone. The resting places of our ancestors have vanished, and their names are lost to time. Even the land is not the same. He promised us he would rebuild our nation, that he would be our shelter and our guide, and now he is gone.”
And he was gone because I made it happen.
“We didn’t ask for this. We didn’t choose to awaken. We were called to serve and dedicate ourselves to something greater, yet we’re left with ashes. We are alone, abandoned and adrift in this new foreign age. You are born of it. Who will protect us and lead us? Who else will guide your people and give us a purpose so we do not become lost?”
