And speaking of family... “You know, you should pick one of the others for this chore. I’ve been doing a lot since Samhain. I’ve been working hard all through the holidays.”
“Which you don’t celebrate.”
“I saved Christmas from a heretic.”
Mormo sighed. “You broke Santa’s leg and managed to scare a small group of children.”
“He was an imposter ready to eat young humans!” Shouldn’t Orion have been rewarded for that?
“You mean a department store Santa plying children with candy canes to put them at ease for pictures on his lap in a special evening celebration at Nordstrom’s?”
“Monstrous!” Orion barreled on. “And creepy. Why were they on his lap? Why is his suit such a beautiful color if not to tempt the young to gather closer? Why fatten them up with sugar if not to sweeten their blood?”
Mormo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never mind.”
“Exactly. I made an effort to celebrate stupid Christmas for Macy’s sake. And what thanks do I get? More work.”
Their only human and the clan’s Bloode Witch, Macy had recently mated their revenant, a decent vampire who acknowledged Orion’s superior strength and fighting prowess. Thanks to that pair, Orion had adopted his best fur buddy, a feline of estimable power and treachery.
He grinned, wondering who would win in a battle between his gray kitten and Kraft. Honestly, it could go either way. Smoky had the art of treachery down to a science.
“I don’t even want to know why you’re smiling.”
Orion shrugged. “Eh. Leftover cheer from your Christmas.”
“Not mine.” Mormo sniffed. “Stop changing the subject. We need you to investigate reports of a suspicious island that comes and goes. It was spotted by a few magir up north.”
“Just magir?”
“Yes.” Mormo sighed. “If the humans aren’t seeing it, that means the island has to be magical in nature, yet Hecate hasn’t gotten word of anyone claiming ownership of this new land mass. Neptune claimed a section of the waters north of the city years ago. He should know who’s trespassing but doesn’t.”
“I’ll stop you right there. Keep your gods and god friends to yourself. Just tell me what you want me to do.” He spotted Smoky peering at him from around the couch, the kitten’s brother, Nightmare, sneering before taking off again. Now that feline Kraft could devour and Orion wouldn’t mind.
The little fucker kept leaving live scorpions and venomous centipedes in his shoes. Orion had no idea where he’d been finding them.
Mormo gave him specifics for what seemed like hours yet hadn’t been more than a few minutes, the magician keen on dragging everything out, unnecessarily. Orion finally left the house for the dock in the backyard, pleased at the surprise he found. Instead of a three-person skiff, he spotted a pretty little yacht, maybe thirty-five feet in length, with a hardtop shaded cockpit and deep stateroom for hiding from the sun.
Having a goddess at their disposal had one or two good points. Money didn’t seem to be an object of contention when they needed supplies and tools. And... Well, that was pretty much all he could come up with on good points.
At least able to enjoy the outdoors away from the house, Orion pulled out of the dock and didn’t look back.
The temperature and weather kept most people inside, though the lateness of the hour could also be attributed to such a quiet night on the water. The dense clouds overhead let loose a flurry of snow, the cold just enough that though the white stuff wouldn’t stick, the streets would likely ice over before the sun rose. Roads would become treacherous, the freezing air making it more difficult to find prey out and about.
The snow did have a huge plus though. Orion appreciated the lack of boats around as he steered his craft through Puget Sound.
The unidentified land mass had been reported south of Whidbey Island, rumors of rogue magir fighting then disappearing on its shores. A white castle, not the good kind filled with burgers, but an actual castle giving off magic vibes, had also been sighted.
As a vampire of the vrykolakas tribe, Orion thrived in the water. His clan—his old clan—had talents in that lovely, wet, alien environment that others could only dream of possessing.
An odd homesickness struck. He missed the crisp scents and warm feel of Santorini, his birthplace. A volcanic island located between the Ios and Anafi islands in Greece, Santorini was famous for its dramatic views, in particular the town of Thira and the sunsets from Oia, which he’d often likened to flame cleansing the sky safe for his kind to thrive. Hell, he even missed the black pebble beach of Kamari, not to mention the leagues of merfolk and water-magir his kind often played with and fed on.
The spray from the Aegean sea never failed to satisfy, such a different place and feel than the dark, cold waters of the Sound.
And that made him angry. Orion didn’t do sadness. He hated, he envied, he killed. And he found joy in battle, in amusement with his new kin, typically at the expense of another. Regret was a waste of time.
Annoyed at an unwelcome melancholy, he snarled, the sound taken by the wind. He continued speeding up, uncaring of disturbing a few merfolk and water-shifters on his way who swore at him.
“Yeah, screw you too,” he shouted back.
The magir, those non-humans who lived in this plane of existence, only lived here because humans didn’t know about them. Like they didn’t know about the island that appeared out of nowhere before him. He throttled back on the engine and drifted closer.
Personally, Orion didn’t like all the secrecy. He wouldn’t have minded outing magir and the Bloode Empire especially, engaging in an all-out bloody war for supremacy with weak humans. But he’d been outvoted the many times he’d suggested the notion.
And so, as Mormo nagged earlier, in no way was Orion to gain the attention of the Magir Enforcement Command (MEC) on this assignment. MEC, the magir and witches used to enforce laws on non-humans, could be super annoying.
He’d dealt with them back in October. Though they’d been scrappy and no real threat, a bunch of them together against one of his kind might be able to do some damage.
No one could best a vampire one on one but another vampire. Lesser beings had their place, but rarely could those not Of the Bloode best those Of the Bloode. Everyone knew vampires remained at the top of the food chain.
But in an effort to play nice with their new Bloode Witch—a member of MEC who had family also working as agents—he’d refrain from involving them.
It was too bad Orion couldn’t have at least brought Kraft with him for entertainment, because Kraft lived to brawl.
Though a younger vampire of the nachzehrer tribe, Kraft amused him. Not partial to water, nachzehrers turned into wolves at will and were known for their fighting prowess, savages in battle. Only Kraft could physically match Orion in a fight. And maybe Varu, their patriarch, but that fight would be less about brute strength and more about strigoi savagery and power.
A longing for blood and battle descended, and Orion hoped against hope he’d find something to kill while on this boring errand.
After tying up the boat, he bounded onto the beach, his hair soon slick with snow, his sweater covered in the stuff. Dense with trees and an intriguing scent—a mix of blood, steel, and fire—the island felt magical, definitely not something a human would detect.