Fire Within

chapter Five

The drive to the rolling hill country where Rosalina lived took an hour. Not a long trip, but long enough to move from thinking about the lab report to worrying about the evening ahead. Plenty of time for her stomach to turn flip-flops. When pieces of the dreams began to play an endless loop in Ari’s head—his face, his voice, she began to talk aloud, sharing her fears with Mini, her intrepid car. Anything to stop the pictures. At least it passed the time.

Ari had purchased the green Mini Cooper for a song almost five years ago. The former owner was a drug dealer, killed in a shootout while driving the little coupe. Ari had worked hard to repair the damage; the shattered windows and bloodstains. During the restoration, the two had bonded. Mini had become a sounding board and her best listener. Today was no exception. Best of all, Mini had no backtalk to Ari’s nervous rants.

She arrived in town before dinnertime. Too early. Ari drove to the park, sank onto a bench and stared across the lake, watching the occasional duck until dusk fell.

Depending on the choice of fantasy, the word seer usually conjured the image of a dark-haired, gypsy-like woman with a crystal ball, or maybe a mysterious figure in a long robe holding a staff and living in a cave. By that criteria, Rosalina didn’t look much like a diviner. She had short red curls, bright blue eyes and lived in a modern walk-out ranch with her husband and three children. To the best of Ari’s knowledge, she had no crystal ball, walking staff, or cave. She did, however, do her best work under the light of the full moon and in an isolated clearing in the woods. From prior visits with her relatives, Ari knew the way.

Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, Rosalina sat cross-legged, Indian-style in the middle of a ring of flickering candles. A white lace shawl lay draped across her shoulders and arms. “Welcome, Arianna Talaitha Calin. Please join me in the circle,” she invited.

Ari paused long enough to sprinkle herself with cleansing water from a large white bowl, then entered the circle. She knelt across from Rosalina as the candlelight shimmered over the seer’s composed features. Ari gave the other woman a weak smile and recited the traditional words of the ceremony. “I have come to seek your wise counsel.”

“Yes, spirit daughter,” was the response. “I will hear your petition. What knowledge do you seek?”

“An interpretation of the legend of Ramora.”

“Have you had the dreams?”

Ari hesitated. “I’ve had dreams, but I don’t know if they’re tied to the legend.” She was reluctant to discuss this with anyone. It made it seem more real. Yet this was why she had come. She swallowed hard and went on. “Five times the same man has appeared in my dreams. In the last, he called my name.”

Rosalina smiled. “You wish to know if this is the soul mate prophesied by the legend?”

“Yes. I mean, I’m hoping he isn’t.”

The seer’s face registered surprise. “Yours is not the usual request. Most women of your family come to me hoping for confirmation.” When Ari didn’t respond, Rosalina set a large candle between them and handed Ari a ten-inch silver lighter. “Light the sacred flame, Arianna, and we shall ask the Goddess for guidance.”

As Ari obeyed the instructions, Rosalina spread a small blue scarf on the ground and took a bag of similar cloth in her hands. She began a soft chant in an ancient witch tongue. Ari recognized the words she’d been taught by her mother and Great-Gran. An appeal to the Goddess to show them the truth, whatever that truth might be.

The chant ended, and they sat in silence, focusing on the candlelight. The flames provided the sole flickering movement, and the only sounds were those of a forest at night. Leaves stirred; an owl hooted. The air smelled of incense and melting wax.

Rosalina untied the string on the bag and held it out to Ari. “We will cast three.”

Ari reached in and, without looking, selected three rune stones, one at a time, and placed them on the scarf in the order drawn. Rosalina studied them to divine their meaning. Ari recognized the three stones: Ansuz, Ehwaz, and Wunjo. She had not been gifted with the skill to divine their combined meaning. She waited for Rosalina to tell her.

When the seer raised her head, her gaze was far away. “With Ansuz the Goddess has acknowledged your interest in exploring your family heritage and found it to be a worthy quest. Ehwaz sets forth the alternatives in your question, the possibility of creating greater links between two people or parting them forever. And Wunjo, the ultimate outcome rune in this casting, means your heart will know the way.”

Rosalina stopped, and Ari waited for her to continue. She didn’t.

“Is that it? Nothing else? Surely there’s more you can tell me.”

“I could recite the legend, if that would help.”

“Yes, please.” Ari could hardly contain her disappointment. What kind of answer was that? If she knew the way or the answer already, she wouldn’t be here. But maybe there was more, in the legend itself. Even small details might make a difference.

Rosalina regarded her with a serious face. “The Calin family Book of Shadows records this tale. Hasn’t it returned to your hands?”

“No. It’s been missing since my mother died.”

Rosalina frowned, then nodded twice. “Very well. I’ll tell you what I know. I’m sure you heard the story before as a small child, but often we don’t truly listen until the moment is right.” The seer focused on the candlelight again, as if drawing from some hidden store of knowledge. “Many generations ago a very young and beautiful girl named Ramora had three suitors. The first man was tall and handsome and very romantic. The second was a wealthy older man who would cherish her and provide for all her material needs. The third man loved children and would be an excellent father. When all three asked for her hand in marriage, Ramora could not make up her mind. She wanted everything the three could provide. Many months passed. One night, she had a dream in which she foresaw future events.

“In the dream, her indecision continued for years. The other village maidens were duly married, and her three suitors fell into despair. They lost all hope of winning her hand and regretted they had not chosen another. The romantic man went to war and was killed in battle. The rich man journeyed into foreign lands, was robbed and beaten to death. The good father was so despondent without a family of his own that he died of a broken heart. Ramora saw herself grow old and die alone.

“When she woke from the dream, Ramora was desperate to make a decision before the dream came true. She begged the Goddess for help.” Rosalina paused and gave Ari a sharp look. “This is the part that directly affects you, spirit daughter. For Ramora was your ancestor.”

Ari knew that, but it sounded like the knell of doom. Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t speak. She knew what was coming.

“The Goddess agreed to help, but because of Ramora’s failure to make a decision, one condition was imposed. Ramora would never make the choice of a mate again; she would have only one mate in her life, a man tied to her for eternity. Her daughters and their daughters through the generations would be bound by the same condition. Ramora agreed. The Goddess told her the right mate would appear to her in a dream. As the story goes, the dream occurred that very night, and Ramora lived a long and happy life with her chosen husband.”

Ari let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. “Which one did she choose?”

Rosalina shrugged. “I don’t know. It would be recorded in your Book of Shadows. Her choice didn’t carry into common folklore. Possibly, because it’s not the point of the story.”

Ari thought over what she’d heard. “Does it have to happen that way? Couldn’t I have innocent dreams that mean nothing?”

“You know your family history as well as I do. Your mother, your grandmother, Great-Gran. All had the dream. And your family tree doesn’t show any second marriages. Ari, you said you’ve had the dream five times. And now he’s spoken to you. Perhaps the fates grow weary of waiting. How much clearer can this be?”

Ari took a shaky breath.

Rosalina leaned forward, searching Ari’s face. “What is wrong? Are you sure you don’t want this man?”

“No! I mean, yes, I’m sure. He isn’t the right one. He can’t be. Rosalina, he’s a vampire.” Ari sat back on her heels and watched comprehension flood Rosalina’s face.

“That is unusual,” the seer said, after a moment.

Unusual? The idea almost panicked Ari. Sure, she was attracted to Andreas. The image of his dark, lean figure flashed in her head. His dancing eyes, his strength during a time of grief, the talks, the kiss. All that had been ruined by one awful night. Their magics had shared some psychic link she didn’t understand, a link so strong it woke the sleeping vampire and allowed him to know her thoughts. That was freaky enough, but later she’d watched him kill someone. What if that mysterious link went both ways? Had bound them at the moment of his kill? Would she have experienced his blood lust, his satisfaction? Ari shuddered. She didn’t want to be bound to anyone against her will—but especially not to a vampire.

She took a deep breath. She needed to stop reacting and look at this logically. When she spoke this time her voice was steady. “What happens if I ignore the dreams?”

“If these are the dreams sent by the Goddess, then you will remain alone and unfulfilled.” Rosalina suddenly looked uncertain, her voice faltered. “It is your duty to carry on the Calin bloodline.”

“With a vampire? How would I do that?” Vampires were sterile. Such a mating would never result in little Calins running around.

The seer shook her head, but her voice regained its confidence. “If the Goddess approves, there is always a way. You path will become clear in time.”

Ari stared at her in disbelief. Not in this case. She frowned. There must be a loophole, something that would change the outcome.

Rosalina took a packet no larger than a tea bag from her pocket and handed it to Ari.

“Do not fret, spirit daughter. If you truly don’t want this union, it won’t happen. Put these herbs under your pillow. It will keep the intruder out of your dreams for a while.” Her gaze deepened, her lips forming a faint smile. “Your fate rests in your own hands. The Goddess does not presume to choose for you. She only allows you to see what is in your heart.”

In my heart? Relief surged through Ari. There were alternatives. She’d avoid him, refuse to let her heart get involved. That should be easy enough. Problem solved. “Then I can handle this. I’ll just be careful. He’s not the right man for me.”

When Ari entered her apartment that night, she placed the packet of herbs under her pillow. No more pillow talk, Mr. Vampire. You’re gone. Out of my life.

Hoping for a dreamless night’s sleep, she was ready to crawl into bed when she remembered to check the small answering machine that sat on her kitchen counter. She’d notified dispatch of her unavailability and had put her cell phone on forward when she’d left for Rosalina’s. The light was blinking, the counter showed one message. When she pushed the button, the voice on the recording got her immediate attention.

“This is Thelma West. Can you call me as soon as possible? Even tonight? I want to clear things up. Eddie’s been protecting me.”

Ari stared at the machine. Was Eddie’s mother confessing? Ari looked at the clock over the fridge. The call had come in three hours ago, it was now 1:03. Too late. It would have to wait until morning.

Ari’s mind rewound and replayed their interview. Had Mrs. West’s emotional display been a cover? Had she resented Jules enough to commit murder? Still, this didn’t fit the facts. Thinking a matronly lady could kill a vampire was more incredible than pinning it on Eddie. The only thing that fit was Eddie taking the blame. Who wouldn’t lie for their mother? Whatever her story, Eddie’s all-together-looking family was a mess.

Ari tossed restlessly for a long time, but when she finally fell into exhausted sleep, no unwelcome visitors invaded her dreams.

By 7:30 that morning, Ari was in her office waiting for Mrs. West. She’d called Eddie’s mother an hour earlier, foregoing her usual morning run to come into work early and already had the coffee pot on. She’d chosen her office rather than the PD because she still thought Mrs. West was an unlikely killer. If the woman provided a believable confession, Ari would take her straight to Ryan for a formal statement, but there was a good chance this was a mistake or a lie. It would be very much in character for Mrs. West to concoct some story in a misguided attempt to protect her son.

Ari was pouring the first cup of coffee when Thelma West arrived.

“Thank you for seeing me. I’ve been so worried ever since we talked. I now know I need to tell you everything.”

“Why don’t you have a seat,” Ari said, handing her the coffee. “Tell me what you meant by Eddie was protecting you.” Ari studied her as the woman gathered her thoughts. Another dress, this time with a sweater. Sturdy pumps. Large straw handbag placed beside her chair. Carefully combed curls.

Mrs. West set down her cup. “I told Eddie I was going to shoot Jules,” she announced, her voice flat. “I was angry about the bonding, and Eddie said it would somehow work out. As if it could! So I told him my plans. I wasn’t going to let that vampire…that vermin…ruin our family. Do you understand? Jules was stealing my daughter’s life. Worse than killing her.” Mrs. West’s look was defiant. “I practiced killing him in my head. Just like shooting rats at Granddaddy’s farm, and I’ve had plenty of practice at that.”

Ari was speechless. She’d never expected such bitter hatred from this woman. The flat voice made the confession even more chilling.

Mrs. West looked away for a moment, then brought her focus back to Ari. “I’d do anything to protect my children, and shooting him was the only way to save her. Eddie had every reason to believe I shot that…thing. I needed to save Lorraine from herself. She was bound to a godless creature, and she…she wanted Jules to make her one of them.” The woman shuddered at the thought. “I didn’t want my only daughter, my baby, to burn in hell.” Her voice caught on the last words, revealing the first sign of her underlying conflicts.

“Tell me exactly what happened the night Jules died.” No matter what Ari thought of the things she was hearing, she wanted to keep her talking.

Mrs. West regained her composure. Her voice was calm again, resigned, as if she was determined to face whatever was coming. “We’d had a family Fourth of July picnic, but Lorraine had left early to meet him. Eddie and I argued, like I told you before, and I ran out of the house with his father’s gun. Eddie knew I had it, because he searched the house. I found the open drawers when I got home. That’s why he confessed. He believes I killed Jules.” She lifted her chin. “I planned it. Bought the silver bullets. And I waited outside Lorraine’s house.” She hesitated, and her shoulders slumped. “But I kept thinking what it would do to her to witness that. God help me, I failed. I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t strong enough to face my daughter afterwards. So I walked down by the river and then went home.” Her jowls trembled, and she avoided looking at Ari. “Someone else saved my daughter,” she said, so quietly Ari barely heard her. Mrs. West covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

What the hell? Ari stared at the older woman. Mrs. West had gone from an apparent confession to denial in seconds. Was this the truth or an attempt to get both herself and her son off the hook? The woman appeared more than capable of pulling the trigger, and Jules might have let her get close enough, but how would she get away without being seen? Unless Eddie and his mother were covering for each other. Hmm. It was worth considering, but by Mrs. West’s account, she was outside Lorraine’s home and never at the Woodland Inn.

“Where’s the gun?”

Mrs. West opened the straw handbag and took out a pistol, encased in a plastic zip bag. Ari took it, so Ryan and the police lab could do their thing. They had nothing to compare it to, no bullets, but the lab could at least tell if it had been fired recently.

“I don’t see how this clears Eddie,” Ari said, as she placed the baggie in her drawer. “What makes you think he didn’t shoot Jules to keep you from committing murder?”

Mrs. West’s face pinched in alarm. “No, no. Eddie was angry, but not filled with hate. Someone else did this. And I hope he or she gets away. I know it’s wrong, but I will bless that person every day of my life.”

Ari ignored an urge to argue with her, and there wasn’t much else to say. Ari was used to bigotry, had heard a lot of anti-Otherworld comments her whole life, but never out of the mouth of a motherly, middle-class woman like Thelma West. Ari was glad it wasn’t her job to judge the love and hate that warred inside this woman. Mrs. West’s confession was ugly, but if it turned out to be accurate, the law wouldn’t be holding her accountable. It didn’t punish evil thoughts. Ari watched as Eddie’s mother left the Cultural Center, her back straight, her head held high. Human beings were a strange lot.

Ari called Ryan and repeated the entire conversation. He wasn’t impressed and said it didn’t change anything. Since she’d expected that reaction, she wasn’t disappointed. Still, it was good news as far as she was concerned. She had a reason why Eddie would have lied. Now, all she needed was the right suspect.

That afternoon, Ari spent two hours waiting on customers at Basil & Sage, while Claris bought plants and supplies from a local nursery. Afterward they shared Claris’s homemade chicken soup, and Ari recounted her visit to Rosalina.

Claris didn’t have much to say. “What do you think this all means?” she asked, not looking at Ari.

“I’m not sure. She said the Goddess doesn’t make the decision, I do. But if the dreams are supposed to reveal my true feelings…” Ari grimaced, not liking where that train of thought led. “How could that be? A vampire for a soul mate?”

Claris reached out and clutched Ari’s hand. “She didn’t say that, did she? As she pointed out, you have a duty to produce children. Even I know that vampires are sterile. So maybe none of this is set in stone.”

“I have to believe that,” Ari said, so quietly her friend leaned forward to hear. “But the dreams are so real, so insistent. Sometimes I feel drawn to him.”

“Maybe it’s a vampiric trick? Something Andreas is doing?”

Ari lifted her head and met Claris’s worried gaze. “That would be preferable. Maybe I could do something about it.” Hearing the whine in her voice, Ari straightened, a wry quirk on her lips. “Listen to me. Can’t believe I’m talking like this. No matter what else happens, nobody gets to decide my fate, except me.”

Claris heaved a sigh as Ari came out of her funk. “That’s one of the things I admire about you. The way you take matters in your own hands.”

Ari laughed, genuinely amused. “Yeah, and we’ve seen how well that works sometimes. At least, I try.”

Not long after that conversation, Ari headed out for her nightly rounds of the city. There were certain hot spots, like the park and the bars, that she always checked before going home. Along the way, maybe she’d plot a strategy for dealing with Andreas, or maybe she’d just enjoy the walk and not think at all. With luck she’d get home in time for a lazy, mindless evening in front of the TV. A few hours without worrying about vampires, or dreams, or murder.

She had completed a sweep of the bar district and was on her way to the park, when her pager beeped. The text was garbled, so Ari called in.

“Otherworld fatality, Goshen Park, north shelter,” Dispatch reported. “Meet Lt. Foster at the scene.”