The Blood: A Denoument

[ChrisGibson]

If by interesting you mean, he slaughtered over three hundred people including women and children to get Long Lees and establish his family, then yes, it is quite interesting.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT JASON McCORD RETURNS TO HIS DREAMS TO LEARN MORE OF THE MYSTERIOUS HAGANO, AND THE STRAUSSES AND DUNHARROWS USE THEIR MAGIC TO UNDERSTAND WHAT HAS BROUGHT THEM TOGETHER.

In paradisum deducant te Angeli; in tuo adventu suscipiant te martyres, et perducant te in civitatem sanctam Jerusalem. Chorus angelorum te suscipiat, et cum Lazaro quondam paupere æternam habeas requiem.

He had heard it all that day, the words he did not know, a whisper under a whisper, an incompletel memory in his ears.

In paradisum deducant te Angeli; in tuo adventu suscipiant te martyres, et perducant te in civitatem sanctam Jerusalem. Chorus angelorum te suscipiat, et cum Lazaro quondam paupere æternam habeas requiem.

Now he heard it full, and loud, ringing off the old stone walls, only, these were not old stone wall. They were thick, the windows thing and through their narrow eyes motes of dust caught in sunlight as drery as the day slowly swirled down only to be lost in the rising shite of incense and the light of beeswax candles. The women and some men, in black or close to black as they could be stood about the body with their candles raised. The golden crcfix was rasied and glinted in the light from over the altar and beneath the altar, old, but only old for a barbarian, with a golden circlet on the head that was just about to grey, was the King of Franks.
Suddenly the voice of one monk rose from the others singing

Dies iræ, dies illa
Solvet sæclum in favilla,
Teste David cum Sibylla.

Their voices rose from where they stood before the body of Clovis

Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando Judex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!
Hagano was there. When Jason stood firm, he stood beside him, but when he moved freely about, he saw the great chamber of the church with him in it. He held no candle and his cloak was clasped with a silver brooch. He was not attached to the court, but well known in the Burgund lands. A free lord. He ought to have been here in what was a grand church in this time.
He had seen her before and now she looked back at him frankly. Wrapped in a fur cloak, dark as night. Her golden hair was a thick ponytail that glistened against it. As the monks sang on, she moved through the crowd, coming close to him.

Judex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet apparebit:
Nil inultum remanebit.

“Will the Judge his seat attaineth?” she whispered, standing beside him, and Hagano was surprised to see that she was of a neight with im.
“Excuse me?”
“You do not know your Latin,” she almost purred. No, but her voice was like a growl. Her eyes were almon and pale grey. He felt like prey under her gaze.
“I know it well enough.”
She quoted:

When the Judge his seat attaineth,
And each hidden deed arraigneth,
Nothing unavenged remaineth.
While the monks sang in Latin, she continued in whispered tones:

What shall I, frail man, be pleading?
Who for me be interceding,
When the just are mercy needing?

“Are you a pious woman?” Hagano asked.
“No,” the lady said, “and Clovis was not a pious man.”
As the incense rose obscuring the sight of the dead king as well as his smell, tshe continued, “And if there is a hell, he is certainly going there.”
Hagano crossed himself, but only half in mockery.”
They remained while some came in and out, and it was after the priest had intoned the gospel, that the golden haired woman made a gesture to lead Hagano away.
“We have put in a good appearance,” she said as they left the sanctuary for the stone steps of the church. It was winter, and this was Paris, though a far cry from any Paris Jason had dreamed of. They needed boots and heavy cloaks as they moved through the snow of this city and past the long low stone houses.
“I could not bear the hypocrisy of receiving Communion,” the lady said.
“You are unbaptized?”
“Everyone is baptized. That’s not what I said.”
Not missing a beat, after she had arched he head to look at the pale blue winter sky, she said, “I go south tomorrow and leave this place for good. Should we go to your apartments or mine?”
In this vision Jason felt himself less than usual, but now he felt the lust and he almost rejoiced when Hagano said, “Are your apartments charming?”
“They are very charming,” the lady said, she smiled and held out her hand so that he saw the edge of a deep red sleeve.
“Let us go to them.”

He had not known who this woman was, but she must have been wealthy and she led him back to nothing less than Clovis’s own palace. The palace was old for Paris was old, still sometimes called by its old name, Lutetia. This overgrown combination of a villa and fortress. Quietly, sometimes laughing, now and againt turning to kiss him and pull him down into her cloak, the lady led him through the maze of halls into her chambers. The palace was warm with the working hypocausts and especially warm as they watched the snow fall on the otherside of the mullioned glass.
“It’s almost like Rome,” she said, as they sipped hot wine. “Except Rome isn’t this cold.”
“Rome also isn’t this clean,” Hagano said.
“You’ve been?”
“Once.”
“they say,” she said, “that one really ought to see Constantinople.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Maybe we will together.”
“Must you leave tomorrow?”
“I daresay we should both leave tomorrow,” the woman said, sittind down on the edge of the bed. Hagano longed to touch her firm breasts, suck those young nipples again.
“Clovis may have been half a monster, but at least he held his kingdom together. While he lived we fought to defend ourselves from him, but mark my word, his kingdom is about to fall apart.”
“You are no fool,” Hagano said.
“Did you think I was?”
When Hagano did not answer, she said, “I must travel to my home, to my mother. I have been at this court for three years. You, doubtless, have travels of your own.”
“I was bound to Kent. In the Angle Lands. The King had cousins there and I have allegiances.”
The woman bowed and said, “I must return to Burgundy.”
“You are a Burgund?”
She nodded.”
“I do not even know your name,” Hagano said.
“And did not need to. Unless of course you wished to call it out.”
As if her name was such a personal thing she could not speak it naked, she wrapped her dressing gown about her and said, “My name is Leinghelde daughter of Mechtild, Princess of Eburodunum.”
There was no gloating in her, but her wolves eyes settled on Hagano, waiting for him to take it in.
He took it in with the same feeling, at the same time as Jason.
“You….”
“Am your daughter.”
Jason foughth is repulsion and the desire to flee from the vision. He was disgusted with himself as if he’d had sex with his own daughter, and he realized that he had, for he was in Hagano and Hagano was in him. But he remained while Leinghelde spoke.
“Mother said she would send me to you one day. I decided I would send myself. This was always the plan.”
“Sin was he plan?”
“You sound like a Christian.”
“Do not act,” Hagano began, “as if father and daughter lay together in the old days.”
“I know nothing of the old days and I doubt you do either,” Leinghelde said. “But father and daughter have lain together here. I was born to the wolf. Wolf of Wolf. This is how it shall be if we are to create the family. My mother was the beginning, but I am your bride. Flesh of flesh and blood of your blood. Cling to me.”
He gazed upon this beautiful woman, who could have been no more than sixteen—yes, he saw that now, but whose eyes were full of an ancient confidence. She resembled Mechtild yes, but he saw… Signy, the sister he had slain, Yes, her aunt. He saw Signy again and she repeated, her long white hands touching him, “Cling… to…. Me.”








That first time she had been a beautiful and mysterious woman, and the things that had taken place in her bed were exquisite. This time, knowing who she was, images of his fierce nights with Mechtild, her fingers raking his back, combined with those first times he had known his sister and the last time, before he had killed her for her treachery and taken his power. Image upon image, sensation upon sensation mounted until he gave a strangled cry and, his teeth sunk in her shoulder, her fingernails dug into his back as he pushed himself deep into Leinghelde as he could, he came, and came, and passed out until Jason lay blinking in the woods, naked, his stiff cock in his hand, coated in his hot, thick semen.





Late the next morning, they all sat in the circle save Kris who sat in the center, and he wore the torque on his arm and none of them looked at the other. Seth, Marabeth, Jim, Loreal, Peter, Lewis and Augustus held hands in the a circle holding the circle. Jason had initially stood outside it, but it was Jim who said, “No. You belong right here. You have shared the visions. Sit with us.”
Augustus had begun murmuring words that rose into a chant. Standing together, Joyce, Chris and Levy watched.

Above, the gemmed azure is
The naked splendour of Nuit;
She bends in ecstasy to kiss
The secret ardours of Hadit.
The winged globe, the starry blue,
Are mine, O Ankh-af-na-khonsu!

Hear me, ye people of sighing!
The sorrows of pain and regret
Are left to the dead and the dying,
The folk that not know me as yet.
The night before they were all leaving.

As Augustus chanted, Levy looked to Chris. He knew better than to speak even in a whisper, and he was surprised when he heard Chris speaking into him.
What?
What is he saying?
It’s From the Book of the Law, Chris said. It does not matter what it comes from. Augustus is only using sounds to—
But just then everyone stopped, for Kris Straus, in the center of them all suddenly made a horrible noise, his back arched, and his face grimaced,. Marabeth and Jim reached out to him, but without missing a beat, Augustus slapped the floor for them to stop, and Kris, fell on the floor in the middle of them, unconscious.

Above, the gemmed azure is
The naked splendour of Nuit;
She bends in ecstasy to kiss
The secret ardours of Hadit.

The whole room was quiet, and Lewis said, “Levy, would you burn the sage now?’
The boy came forward and held the bundle to the fire until it crackled and smoked. A deep, pungent smell came to Levy’s nose In the darknened room Lewis and Augustus continued to chant until, with a great intake of breath, as if something had been sucked out of them all, Peter, Marabeth, Jim and Seth, all collapsed.
Joyce’s eyes went wide, but calmly, Augustus said, “Leave them.”

MORE TOMORROW AND TOMORROW WE WILL CONTINUE THE BOOK OF THE BROKEN

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion. Whenever we get lots of Hagano it is always interesting. I was a bit surprised that he slept with his daughter but after what has happened with other characters in this story maybe I shouldn’t be. Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

It's true. It's surprising that he's banging his daughter, and perhaps even more surprising that she went on a mission to make it happen, but after all, it shouldn't be that surprising in a family like this. They just always take it up a notch.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Kristian Strauss had had a feeling which he would only describe as like an orgasm, but with none of the pleasure, being suddenly thrust from his body, and standing in this wood, in this place. The ground was wet, and the air was thick with mist, the trees, dripping it crystal beads of dew. He were walking toward an old house. They were following someone. Blood was dripping. They had passed someone. They were in the house. They looked up.
They?
Kris saw at his side, Peter, Jason and Marabeth and Jim. A bird sat on Jim’s shoulder and Kris knew without a doubt that this was Seth.
They were in the house, and the Sorcerer stood in his hooded and white robe, and Hagano came, and he was dripping with rain, his silver gold hair wet as he removed the great hood.
“It is done.”
“Done?” the Sorcerer said.
And at once, Hagano set on the table a great wold pelt, and from it he revealed the head the bloody and astonished head of a woman, stained by a lump of meat he pulled out of her mouth. Her hair had been blond, but it was covered in gore, and her mouth was open in horror.
“You have done it,” the Sorcerer said with no passion.
“I have.”
“And what else do you have?”
Hagano touched the meat that had rested in the mouth of his sister, and Kris Strauss realized from his days in anatomy, it was a heart.
“Well, now you have done it,” thr sorcerer said, “but did you discover why she did what she did? Did she tell you before she died.”
“Before I killed her?”
“Aye!”
“Her husband. He did take her by force, but in time she allied herself to him. She knew I would kill him in the end. She was seduced by a great treasure. They say he was as well. It was witch work. Not truly hers. It always escaped her grasp and it said, Take me Take me. It spoke to me. It said take me when you kill her. And I took it. But… you knew all this.”
“I did.”
“I wonder, could this have all been done without what I have done.”
“Without you killing your sister? No. No, I do not lie, for a witch cannot. We may twist the truth, but we cannot unmake it. And what she had is what I will need to do what I must do.”
“I can give you both,” Hagano said. “I don’t want either.”
“I only need the one, and when I’ve had it you shall have it again. The other you keep. Keep it for now. At this moment, let us not speak of treasures lost and stolen. Now, we can get to the serious work of making yo inot the wolf.
The Sorcerer pushed up his hood and gave a great sigh, and Kris and all of them beheld, without a doubt, the face of Lewis Dunharrow.

Kris almost flew back into the present, but he heard the voice of Augustus Dunharrow, sharp.
“Do not lose the vision. Stay, children of the wolf. Stay grandson of Pamela. Hold to the witch cord. Do not lose the vision.”
And even as the Sorcerer who was Lewis took the heart in his hands, the vision swung away from him and Hagano, and they were looking at a forest with snow falling among the black fir trees, and behold, a woman with thick golden hair and the red wolf cloak and Kris said, “Rosamunde, the woman of the dream.”
Jim recognized this as the past, no vision like he’d had with Seth. The air was chill and real, the trees were thick and real, and this woman who rode on the horse and stopped before Hagano was real as well..
“You know what to do,” he told her.
She dismounted and stood before him, and gold rings were about her proud arms, and a great necklace hanging over her breasts was of gold as well. She stared at him with defiance, but what happened next was that she kissed him, and he kissed her her deeply in return.
“This cannot be the only way.”
“He said it long ago, and it is so. The Gift was lost in such a way before. If you would have it you must always have me. I will be in the keeping of the women in every generation. But for this to be, you must do what I have said.
“I cannot,” she said.
“The magic is done. I have drunk from the cup, and it is done. There is nothing to fear. It was done when I killed my sister. It was done when I ate her heart and consumed her tongue. It was done when I lay with your mother.”
“And done again when you lay with me?”
“That was the way it must be and must always be. And it will be done now, when you have consumed me.”
They talked on an on, but their talking, their struggling and, at last, their lovemaking gave way to a scene of two wolves running, and one chasing the other down and killing it, cosuming it slowly, over the course of days. Only the pelt, white gold, remained.
This gave way to the woman now, giving birth, bearing two squalling children. Brown hands lifted them up and she looked up into the face of Lewis Dunharrow while the midwives attended her.
“You are the King and you are the Queen,” he said, “and as long as there is a King and Queen, and as long as the two lines know each other, the Gift shall remain.”
He handed one child and then the other to the golden haired woman.
“Will you stay?”
“I will not, but I will return to make right this work when it goes wrong,”
“When it is forgotten?”
“No,” Lewis shook his head. ‘When it can no longer be controlled. When the knowledge is lost. Three bloods ties us together, two lines tie you to yours. When the ties are lost, I shall return to restore them. I will restore them and take back the treasures I have placed in your hands. That I vow, and I vow with the witch’s word.”


Now Kris stared in horror. These surroundings were familiar. He knew exactly where he was. This was Peter’s house, the old Keller house on William’s Street, and his uncle—his cousin, actually—Granger was changing. Vanessa’s eyes, had gone wild and wide. It shouldn’t have been happening now, and before Granger stood a woman with golden hair and in a red cloak. Kris was sure Vanessa could not see her, and the woman said.
“Fix your eyes on me. Look upon me, and you will never lose yourself. Look upon me..”
But Granger could not The middle aged lawyer who looked like his son Peter, the business man, could look upon nothing, and he lost his wits, and the red cloaked woman fled away on the air the same time Peter turned his head and Jim and Marabeth held onto him.. Kris heard Vanessa’ shriek, and Granger’s snarls—
.
And then they were racing along the road, making fast dashes and sharp turns, and Kris didn’t know the car, but when it came to a mad halt, he saw it was his father, throwing off his great trench coat, throwng down his satchels and running toward rhe river. With a roar, Nathan Strauss, grey skinned and haunted, hair graying, transformed into the black and white wolf. They watched him run through the night, taking down beasts, sniffing the air, trotting through trees. Toward the morning he encountered a wild cat. But it did not back down. They did battle and blood and fur filled their vision. In the end the wild cat was dead, but the wolf that was Nathan, weak and bloodied, trotted back to where he had been human.
When the sun was rising, Kris saw his father lying weak and naked, a thin, greyed man in his early sixties, his side wounded. A river was rushing near by, and the coat and the discarded satchel where by him. Kris could hear the sound of rushing water, and now he could see the woman in her cloak.
“I was going back to them,” Nathan said “I was on my way back.”
And she said, “I wanted to help you. I wanted to help all of you. But you needed your Queen, and no one knew. Even Pamela only knew at the end, and it was only at the very end that she knew you needed your King.”
But Nathan could not hear her, and rising painfully on his knees, now both legs, blood pouring from his side, he staggered toward the river as the red cloaked woman looked on, and Kris was pulled back into wakefulness

The rest of that day was quiet. It felt, to Kris, like Good Friday when they were younger and they spent all day in church after the drama of Palm Week. Peter went off to be alone, and Joyce was smart enough to let him. But they all felt raw and a little terrible.
“I’m not Peter,” Jim told Seth, “and I really don’t wantto be alone.”
They had seen Nathan Strauss die, and Nathan had been on his way home to them. He had not killed himself after all. If things had been different, he would have been at the door himself, and… but no, it was Marabeth who said before the rest of them, there was no point in trying to imagine an alternate story. This was the story they had, and she knew despite everything that she didn’t really regret it.



Kris Strauss was feeling tired, wrung out, sad and exhilarated, all at the same time. He wanted to sleep and never get out of bed, but even as he said that he wanted to press on and get to the end of this. They seemed so close to the end of things when he felt his phone humming, and was surprised because no one ever called him.
He pulled out his phone and blinked to see the name he’d long to see, but didn’t think he would.
“Jenean?”
“Hey… Kris,” she sounded nervous. “I know.. I was trying to give you your space, and I didn’t want to—”
“Jenean, I’m so glad you called,” Kris said, “and I probably should have called you. There’s just so much going on, but I am glad to hear you, and I don’t mind saying I can’t wait to see you.”
“That’s good,” Jenean said, her voice become more certain, “because I’m coming to you.”
“What?”
“With someone else. We’ll be here in a day.”
Kris wasn’t sure whatto say, and so he said, “All…. Right.”
“You see,” Jenean continued, “it’s… This is very important. I can’t even bring myself to say it.”
She’s pregnant. No matter. This is a good thing. We have so much to offer this baby if that’s the case. We, this family. I know it. I have so much to give.
“Kris,” Jenean said. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Kris said.
“And I miss you,” she continued. “I miss you so much.”
“I miss you too, Jenean. There’s a hotel in town. “Come right away


MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! These supernatural glimpses into the past are very interesting. So Kris might become a father? Interesting! I don’t remember that from the first version of the story but maybe it was there. Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

In the original ORIGINAL Kris gets Jenean pregnant but it was left out of the version you read, and then I put it back in. The Hagano business and the family trees were the same way.

 

[ChrisGibson]

THE END OF OUR CHAPTER


“And yet, as fascinating as it is that I was there,” Lewis said, “the most disappointing thing is that I do not remember it.”
“You must had several lives,” Chris said.
“Yes, and the one I remember is this one, primarily, and others come and go. I remember Melek and Malachy, but there are more, back and back, and this one I do not remember. And yet, even though I thought the reason I came back into this world was for you, it cannot be the only reason. I must have also come back to fulfill what I said long ago.”
They were all sitting in the great parlor a sound like a sonic thud touched the great front door. Lewis leaned forward, but Augustus lifted a finger.
It was Augustus who rose, and Lewis agreed. No matter what he had said, Long Lees was his uncle’s house, built by him, inspelled by him, and when Augustus got up, the others followed. Augustus opened the door, and he looked upon Tanitha Kertesz, Lawrence Malone, Myron Keller and Daniel Rawlinson.
“Forgive the loud noise,” Dan said. “The landing was quick.”
At the sound of his voice, Loreal was down the hall in a shot. She pulled him and Laurie close to her and kiss them both in turn.
“Welcome,” Augustus said, making room, “refresh yourself in my home.”

“Witches,” Marabeth began, “made vampires?”
“Had you known this?” Chris turned to Lewis.
“But my love, you have to remember,” Lewis reminded him, “I did not even know there were vampires until I met you.”
“But you would have known,” Loreal said to her grandfather.
“I had suspected,” Augustus said. “I make it my business to know a great many things, but I cannot know all. It was for this knowledge Lewis is here, and not simply for the Strausses. To be true head of the clan all things I know he must know and, believe it or not, I do want the head of the clan to be as strong as possible.
“Like,” Augustus said, turning to Tanitha Tzepesh, “I know that you have not come all this way only to speak of werewolves, that when you went to meet with your kinswoman Rosamunde, you learned something of import to witches.”
“Your grandson and granddaughter are with her.”
“Interesting,” Augustus said, “and yet not the most interesting thing you learned, I’m sure.”
Chris Ashby admired Augustus. He shared a glance with Dan and Laurie, amazement at the oldest member of the family their lovers were scions of, the wizard knew no fear.
“It is good that Lewis is here,” Tanitha said, “and good that you, who must be Marabeth, are here as well.”
“You may have heard that the Strausses and the vampires were in league,” Myron said to his cousin.
“A little,” she nodded.
“We had thought it was some type of mafia,” Laurie said, “for lack of a better word. Terrorizing people, maybe the Strauss counts and lords staying wealthy and powerful by terrorizing their people. And this was part of it.”
Lewis nodded, and so did Marabeth.
“And the other part?”
“They were guarding something. A ball of glass, well, an orb.”
“An orb,” Lewis murmured as Loreal looked straight at Laurie and he nodded.
“But our great family is divided into two clan,” Augustus said. “We have maintained the Bowl… or Chalice, and the Sword and they the Lantern and the Glass Orb. But why… no, you tell it,” Augustus said, shutting himself up.
“Apparently,” Laurie said, “when the Strausses were first made, it was with the aid of the head of your Clan, certainly one even older than Melek. He used the Chalice or the Crater, and he also used the Orb. How, I cannot say.”
“That was what you used,” Kris said to Lewis. “In the vision. Somehow you used the Orb to help turn Hagano the first time.”
“And he mentioned the Chalice, the Cup he said,” Jim remembered. “I drank from the Cup. But we were supposed to have both of those things.”
Jim looked to Laurie and said, “Are you sure the Strausses—our ancestors—only had one of the treasures?”
“Yes,” Laurie said. “Evangeline and the clan she raised took the Chalice and they would have taken the Orb, but it was gone.”
“Well, then that is part of the story completed,” Peter said, “because, as I remember, everything would be made right when both of those treasures were returned, and so far, none of them has been.”
At this Myron jabbed Dan in the shoulder, and he said, “Oh, right.”
He picked up his book bag and opened it, producing a fine cup of beaten gold, and while even Lewis marveled over its detail, Augustus said, “That is our chalice, not the one we have made due with for hundreds of years. That is the true Chalice of Changing.”
He looked at Dan Rawlinson, holding out his hand, and the vampire guilty placed in Augustus’s palm.
“And you had it in a book bag,” Augustus said.
He looked over it before passing the heavy thing to Lewis
“I thought the Chalice I used in my initiation was the true one,” he said.
“It was true enough,” Augustus said. “It was the Crater in which the Chalice was contained.”
“Then we have the Chalice, the Sword, but not the Golden Lantern.” Loreal began.
“We have the Golden Lantern,” Augustus said.
She blinked at him.
“It in one of the hanging lanterns in this very house, indistinguishable for others because no one was looking, and one of the reasons the house was hidden. It is the Orb that the Strausses once had, The Orb is a tool of alchemy and changing as was the Chalice, and was that you will need.”
.A look of great sadness fell over Peter’s face, and it was Loreal who suddenly delighted Joyce MacNamara when the girl touched his hand and he looked at her.
“Do not despair,” Loreal said. “Can’t you see? Everything has come together. Right here, in this house. The things that are not here yet, are surely on their way.”


MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great end to the chapter! It is really cool to learn about the magical objects associated with the family. I was surprised that witches made vampires! Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I think even the witches were surprised. Things are coming to an end and wrapping up into something that will almost be a neat little bow. I'm glad you've been here for the journey.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT WE BEGIN CHAPTER EIGHT AND COME NEARER TO THE CONCLUSION OF OUR LONG TALE (TAIL? PUN INTENDED)


CHAPTER EIGHT
KNOWING



The study of this Book is forbidden. It is wise to destroy this copy after the first reading.
Whosoever disregards this does so at his own risk and peril. These are most dire.
Those who discuss the contents of this Book are to be shunned by all, as centres of pestilence.
All questions of the Law are to be decided only by appeal to my writings, each for himself.
There is no law beyond Do what thou wilt.


-The Book of the Law


As soon as he got the phone call, Kris drove at break neck speed down the winding roads of Long Lees, and into town. While Kris has slept, earlier, he’d gone to rent a car and assumed it would be in this car he would drive back to Lassador, and he would do it with Jenean. It had rained last night, and he rolled through the semi empty streets until the car skidded on a puddle, and Kris realized no amount of werewolf mystery could keep him from dying if this car crashed. He needed to get back to Jenean, and back to sense.
This was the Harrow Inn, sure enough, though it looked plainly like any other hotel. The lobby door was open, and he went up the stairs. He checked again for the room number, and now he was knocking on her door. She was on the second floor, in a residential suite, and as he came through the door he kissed her and only as he parted from her, did she say, “I thought you’d come in the morning, Kris. You look nuts. How the fuck fast did you drive?”
“Do you want me?” he demanded, kissing her as he shut the door with his back and locked it. “Tell me you want me.”
He was panting, but he had dressed for her, grey trousers, white shirt. She examined the hunger in his eyes and wondered what kind of slut she was.
These… wolf eyes. Well, all the better.
“Yes,” she said, while he stared into her, rubbing her sides, roughly, his dick visibly pushing against his trousers. .
“I do.”
He pushed her against the door, searching under her robe for panties and finding none. He undid his belt and pulled down his trousers and his briefs. Jenean shuddered and cried out as, moaning deeply, he pressed himself inside, fucking her against the door. As he fucked her like a piston, grunting, not speaking, his head buried in her shoulder, her back pressed against the door, she gripped his back and clawed into his flesh, biting his shoulder, the two them locked together. She pulled him to the floor.


In her living room they sat on the sofa, Kris with a beer in his hand.
“I don’t like funerals,” he said. “I don’t like traveling. I’m glad I did both. Believe it or not, I’m starting to feel like myself again.”
They were both naked on the floor, halfway bothering with a duvet. Jenean wondered if they would ever graduate to sitting in chairs in a bedroom like normal people.
Kris wanted to ask, “Are you alright?”
“Whaddo you mean?”
“It was rough,” Kris said. “Even for us. I ought to be more tender. I ought not to behave like such an animal with you.”
“You never make me do anything I don’t want to, Mr. Strauss. And the day you do, I’ll let you know.”
He took a hand through his thick hair.
“I feel like myself when I’m with you. Like my wild self, like the me I tried to tell myself not to be.”
“The pussy bruising you.”
“My Lady, I’ve walked away sore from you a few times. It’s not a sword no matter what they say. It’s meat—”
“I’ll say it is.”
“And you’ve bruised the fuck out of it several times.”
“Would you like me to kiss it?”
“I always like it when you kiss it.”
“Did you learn something worth learning?” Jenean asked. “Not about how tender your dick is. I mean about… whatever you were looking for?”
“Yeah,” Kris said after a while. “I actually learned a lot.”
“I actually wish I could have gone with you,” she said, pushing that ash blond hair behind behind her shoulder.
“But then if I had…”
She sat down on the carpet instead of the sofa, placing her elbow on his thigh, “I wouldn’t have gotten this bit of… research.”
“Research?”
“Yes,” Jenean said. “Research. Records. My aunt came to visit. She… is not a common aunt.”
Kristian Strauss, wary of strange relatives, raised his eyebrow, but he took a deep swig of beer and only said, “I know all about uncommon aunts.”
“A nosey aunt, a record keeping aunt,” Jenean said. “She knows about you.”
“You talk about me?” Kris said, pretending to be flattered and realizing he actually was
“I don’t have good enough relations with most of my family to talk about you,” Jenean said. “Don’t think that’s a reflection on the way I feel about you. But this bitch knows about you, and…. Just look…”
Kris was curious, semi worried, almost ready for anything, more concerned with the roundness of Jenean’s ass and its lovely undulations, that dimple at the small of her back as she walked down the hall and into her room. He would sleep with her tonight as he had on Christmas. She said she needed to come here. She said she was coming with something or someone. Was she, in fact, pregnant? Did it matter? If his father’s death was a horrible sort of present, then she was the best.
She returned with an old fashioned accordion binder, and handed it to Kris. It was embossed with a crest, a wolf’s head, and in very small letters, as he opened it, he saw, inscribed about the crest:

La Maison des Loups:
La Famille Jaquillard.

“Shit,” Kris murmured, frowning. “You mind if I put on clothes for this?”
Kris’s eyes scanned the first long sheet of paper, embossed by the wolf’s head.



Dans la mesure où l'histoire de la famille Jaquillard touche à sa fin et dans la mesure où le cadeau que nous avions autrefois été perdu, il me revient en tant qu'historien de cette grande famille de raconter son histoire et sa lignée dans les temps anciens, mais surtout à partir avec la Dame Genève par laquelle nous sommes liés à deux reprises à l’autre ancienne maison, les Wolfemen, qui a traversé une période difficile et qui a ensuite disparu de notre histoire. Voici l'histoire de notre famille qui remonte à cette digne ancêtre, Genève, qui a acquis un grand pouvoir grâce aux Warg, l'esprit de notre maison dont le nom naturel était Stedefeld et qui s'appelle maintenant Hagano…

His French was…. Atrocious, but he could make out some words. He saw Wolfemen and Hagano and when Jenean realized what he was doing, she said, “Chris, the next page.”
“Huh?”
“I translated it.”
“You speak French?”
“My name’s Jenean,” she shrugged.
The next page was far plainer, but in English, and he read.

“Insofar as the history of the Jaquillard family is near its end and insofar as the Gift once given to us has been lost, it behooves me as the historian of this once great family to recount its histories and its bloodline into ancient times, but especially beginning with the Lady Geneva by whom we are twice related to the other ancient house, the Wolfemen, who came of hard times and afterward vanished from our history. In way of counting, here is the history of our family back unto that worthy ancestress, Geneva, who gained great power through the Warg, the spirit of our house whose name in natural life was Stedefeld and who is now called Hagano…


The history was the size of a small book, and all in small font and mostly in French, for Jenean had just begun the translation. But what she had translated and did want him to see was the list of names, and names as familiar as what he and his sister and cousins had seen at Augustus’s house.
“The second line,” Kris said.
“What?”
“Jim, my…. My brother.”
“I thought Jim was your cousin.”
“It’s a very long story,” Kris waved it off, “but he said there must have been a second line. And my cousin Myron said the same thing.
While Jenean wondered over this, Kris read:
“Mitchell Morrison, 1960, Luke Morrison, 1938, Anna Jaquillard Morrison…. Annemarie Jaquillard. His eyes went up the list of names, several women, Claudette, Eleanor, Marguerite, Nathalie, Bethune, Frederick, Jacque who was a Protestant, haha And then..”

Tomen, Louis, Henri, Geneva,
“That’s the Geneva your aunt speaks of, and then, Charlotte…

Claire 1345
Ignito 1362
Louis 1390
Charles 1413
Maximillian 1455
Sigismund 1478
Frederick 1501
Charlotte 1525.”

Kris looked up at Jenean.
“This is my family…” then, as his face changed, “Your family.”
“Our family,” Jenean said.
“Then you know.”
Jenean nodded.
“Then you are like me.”
“No,” Jenean said. “Yes, but no. It’s… Aunt Clotilde will explain it to you. She wants to meet you.”
Kris frowned and shook his head.
“This… Aunt Clotilde? Is she like me?”
“I really don’t know,” Jenean said. “She told me after things happened with my father.”
“Things?”
“Yes,” was all Jenean said.
“When did you know?” Kris said. “About me?”
“I suspected,” she said. “On Christmas. Your smell. Your must, your heat. The way we were. The wolf in you. I wondered, but I didn’t know until Clotilde came, when you were gone.”
“You should have gone with me after all,” Kris said.
“I don’t know that much,” Jenean said. “I never have.”
“Me neither,” Kris said.
“We can find out together,” Jenean suggested.
Kristian Strauss nodded.





“You have to all be there, then,” Loreal said.
Kris Strauss firmly felt that the last thing he wanted to do was bring yet another person into Long Lees, and after spending the night, he had his brother and sister, and his cousins as well to the Harrow Inn. Peter brought Joyce and Jason was there too. Jim, Loreal, and Seth and Lewis had come along as well, and the dining room was nearly empty. They were all finishing off shrimp and grits and Lewis was smoking a cigarette.
When Jim, Peter and Myron saw the tall ash blond Kris had entered the room with, they looked at each other smiling, but Marabeth stood up and took Jenean’s hands and kissed her. Jenean took to her immediately and Marabeth introduced her to Joyce and Loreal.
It was Jenean who told them, slowly, and starting over again when Peter interrupted with many questions, about her Aunt Clotilde, and while she talked, Lewis Dunharrow nodded his head.
“Whatever your Aunt Clotilde has to say,” Lewis said, turning now to Kris and Marabeth,“you all must be there, together, to hear it.”
“I want to go with you,” Seth said quickly to Jim.
Jim smiled at him quietly.
“I think I would like that. For you to be there at the end of it all.”
Seth shrugged and said, “Or at the beginning.”





That night as they were making love, Marabeth closed her eyes to everything. The old fans turned slowly overhead, and the breeze of bayou coming from the open window felt good on them.
She wrapped her legs about Jason, and ran her hands up and down his sides, clung to his back, moved so she could feel him deep inside. She closed her eyes and pulled his face to her, inhaled the fragrance of his hair. Moved with him. Feeling the gentle creaking of the bed, hearing the low groans of satisfaction in Jason’s throat.
And then she opened her eyes and nearly cried as she saw the shadow standing above them, the moon light on the muscular arm hairs, the the light shining on the white blond of his hair as he looked down in satiffaction.
Still making love to her, Jason said, “What is it? What’s happening?”
“He’s here,” Marabeth said.
They stopped, Jason realized he had longed for this.
“He’s here?” Jason McCord’s eyes were shadows.
Marabeth nodded.
“Well, then let him come.”
Jason kissed her. “Let him come.
“Come, Hagano,” Jason murmured. “Like you always have. You never came unless I let you, did you?”
As he kissed her fiercely, she pulled him to her, and they gathered up a speed, clinging to each other. Her eyes opened and closed as she saw Hagano leaning down almost to encase Jason, to gather him up, and then she knew he was entered him and for a moment, they were two and then Jason’s eyes looked on her, and she knew that Hagano was in him.
“I won’t run from you,” Marabeth said, feeling his hands on her shoulders, feeling him shift deeper into her. She knew Hagnao and Jason were in her at the same time, and as Jason had given himself to spirit, so did she.
“You will be Changed forever, now,” his voice spoke from Jason’s mouth, and Jason seemed older, his eyes deeper.
“You will be Changed, but so will he. Now that I am in him, now that I will Change him, the Gift will be in him, as it is in you, as it was in Pamela.”
“But what are you—?” her voice rose as he fucked her deeply.
“Changed,” the Hagano that was also Jason declared as he made love to her, “into him, and into you.”
She gave herself to the wildness, to the fury, and now she felt the teeth in her, and she, in her rage, pushed her teeth into him, growling, and Marabeth’s body lengthened and strengthed and then she threw back her head and howled, and the the red wolf who was Jason leapt through the room, out of the window and into the moonlit night and she, being his lover, followed.

MORE IN A FEW DAYS

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was an excellent portion! I am very intrigued as to what Jenean’s Aunt is going to say. It looks like Hagano inhabiting Jason is here to stay. Great writing and I look forward to more in a few days!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Now something alchemical will happen, for Jason isn't merely being possessed, but opening himself to being changed, and because of it, Hagano is also begin changed. Where it will go is not obvious, but it only be Hagano entering him and Marabeth biting him, it seems, that he becomes the Wolf.

 

[ChrisGibson]

“It is open,” they heard the woman call in heavily accented French.
There was only a slight French accent in her tongue, and when they entered into the large suite, she was in the kitchen.
“Jenean, help me with drinks,” she said, and the blond woman with the long, swinging hair went into the kitchenette and, a few minutes later, came out followed by a small, dark haired woman whom Myron thought looked a great deal like Marabeth.
“Drinks for us all,” Clotilde said as she sat in a chair by the fire, and there was sofa before it, and when Kris went to sit in the chair across from her.
Clotilde shook her head and said, “No, no, that is for the Queen.”
When they all looked at her, she nodded to Marabeth, and feeling embarrassed, Marabeth sat down across from Clotilde.
Marabeth had arrived with Jason, which gained a raised eyebrow from Peter, who had come without Joyce. She ignored her cousin, and the detective sat between Seth and Kris, one long leg crossed over the other while he leaned back in his chair.
“Once you would have been queen of your clan and I of mine, but things are as they were long ago, and there is only one queen, and it is you.”
“But why am I the Queen?” Marabeth said.
“Because the werewolf clans were always headed by queens, and what happened to the queen was what happened to the clan. If you would heal your clan, you must heal yourself.”
When Marabeth did not speak, Clotilde continued, “As of yet, you have done little. You did not know what to do. How could you? You had not been taught. And from what I have heard, your Aunt Pamela did what she could. She saved your family in a time when it was nearly wiped out, when mine was still thriving.”
“You are our cousins? So to speak.”
“So to speak,” the older woman echoed.
“But you said you were a queen,” Marabeth said, ‘Or that you would have been.”
“Yes, but we thought over time it was best to become like other people,” Clotilde said. “The Gift, we thought was a curse. And so we set out to end it. It can be ended.”
“Two generations of women after the werewolf.”
“Yes,” Clotilde smiled and sipped from her drink.
“And so we did this.”
Marabeth did not ask what they had done. Had they castrated boys? Killed them? Prevented them from reproducing by other means? There was no need to ask.
“And in the end it brought ruin,” Clotilde said. “The Gift was the link to the powers our women had, but those powers were diluted, perverted. The men,” she said, looking at Myron, and Peter, at Kris and Jim, “no longer Changed. But where the Change would happen, they succumbed to madness. Thus,” she looked ot her niece, “Jenean’s father, and her grandfather and many before them. We went from a noble house to what you see.”
“A waitress at an I-Hop,” Jenean interrupted.
“That is not what I meant,” her aunt said.
“And yet?” Jenean shrugged.
Clotilde cleared her throat and repeated, “We went from a noble house to what you see, but then, so did you. However it seems the Stausses have faired better.”
Marabeth leaned forward.
“I need to know everything,” she said. “If I am the Queen, then I must know everything.”
“It’s all in the story,” Clotilde said, and Jim said, “The Riding Hood?”
“Yes,” Clotilde said to him. “The only story.”
“Tell it to me,” Marabeth said.
Peter stopped himself from groaning. There were other things on his mind, like, did this mean that all his cousins who did not Change were destined to be insane? That didn’t seem to be true. But, at least to this woman, Marabeth was the Queen.
“My dear Mr Keller,” Clotilde said, “I saw the change in your face when I talked of the madness that feel upon our family. The madness happened because we all rejected the Gift. If you had read the record, you would know that the Gift has departed from many of us over the years and madness does not result. Madness only comes when you try to be the Children of the Wolf without becoming the Wolf. Trying to be a thing without actually being was always the door to sickness.”
Marabeth said: “We have read the different versions of that story, but we have not heard it from anyone’s mouth. Except for Jim who heard it from Pamela. Tell us the story.”
Clotilde nodded, and as she put down her glass of wine, Marabeth noted her large knuckles. Did she have arthritis? Grandmother, what big knuckles you have.
Clotilde began.



Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little country girl, the prettiest creature who was ever seen. Her mother was excessively fond of her; and her grandmother doted on her still more. This good woman had a a hooded cloak of wolf fur made for her. It suited the girl so extremely well that everybody called her Little Hood.
One day her mother, having made some cakes, said to her, "Go, my dear, and see how your grandmother is doing, for I hear she has been very ill. Take her a cake, and this little pot of butter."
Rosamunde set out immediately to go to her grandmother, who lived in another village.
As she was going through the wood, she met with a wolf, who had a very great mind to eat her up, but he dared not, because of some woodcutters working nearby in the forest. He asked her where she was going. The poor child, who did not know that it was dangerous to stay and talk to a wolf, said to him, "I am going to see my grandmother and carry her a cake and a little pot of butter from my mother."
"Does she live far off?" said the wolf
"Oh I say," answered Rosamunde; "it is beyond that mill you see there, at the first house in the village."
"Well," said the wolf, "and I'll go and see her too. I'll go this way and go you that, and we shall see who will be there first."
The wolf ran as fast as he could, taking the shortest path, and the little girl took a roundabout way, entertaining herself by gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and gathering bouquets of little flowers. It was not long before the wolf arrived at the old woman's house. He knocked at the door: tap, tap.
"Who's there?"
"Your grandchild, Rosamunde," replied the wolf, counterfeiting her voice; "who has brought you a cake and a little pot of butter sent you by mother."
The good grandmother, who was in bed, because she was somewhat ill, cried out, "Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up."
The wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened, and then he immediately fell upon the good woman, slaughtering her. He cut up her flesh and drained her blood into a vial and put them on the fender by the fire. He then shut the door and got into the grandmother's bed, expecting Rosamunde, who came some time afterwards and knocked at the door: tap, tap.
"Who's there?"
Rosamunde, hearing the big voice of the wolf, was at first afraid; but believing her grandmother had a cold and was hoarse, answered, "It is your grandchild Rosamunde, who has brought you a cake and a little pot of butter mother sends you."
The wolf cried out to her, softening his voice as much as he could, "Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up."
Rosamunde pulled the bobbin, and the door opened.
The wolf, seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the bedclothes, "Have yourself some wine and cake. It is there on the fender. then come get into bed with me."
Rosamunde saw eyes and heart and lungs ate her grandmother’s flesh and drank her blood, and then she took off her clothes and got into bed. The wolf was greatly amazed to see how Rosamunde now looked. Lying naked with him, and he said to her:
"Granddaughter, what big arms you have!"
"All the better to hug you with, my dear."
"Granddaughter, what big legs you have!"
"All the better to run with, my child."
"Granddaughter, what big ears you have!"
"All the better to hear with, my child."
"Granddaughter, what big eyes you have!"
"All the better to see with, my child."
"Granddaughter, what big teeth you have got!"
"All the better to eat you up with."
And, saying these words, Rosamunde fell upon the Wolf and ate him all up.”


“Well, that was something different,” Peter said.
“But not so different,” Jim said. “For we saw it happen, saw Rosamunda consume Hagano.”
“But,” Marabeth said, “I believed that, well, actually, my brothers Kris and James, Myron believed, that the Grandmother was Leinghelde, the first of us, the first Queen. And then the Riding Hood was Rosamunda, her granddaughter.”
Clotilde smiled with approval, and nodded.
“But… what of the wolf? the wolf who kills the Grandmother?” Peter said.
“But you know who it was,” Clotilde told him.
“Hagano.”
“Yes.”
“But the wolf killed the grandmother.”
“The Wolf did not kill the grandmother,” Clotilde said. “The Wolf… how do you say… fucked the Grandmother. Leinghelde was the child of Hagano the Shapeshifter, but she became the shapeshifter because she was also his lover.”
“Like Pamela,” Marabeth murmured.
“Many times over,” Jim said.
Seth looked at Jim and Jim understood, the reason he was resistant to the damaged version of the Gift, the version that was a curse.
“Leinghelde bore her daughter and her son, her son who was the first of the Jaquils, our family, which split off from yours and remained in France, but whom Geneva would marry back into. Leinghelde sent Rosamunda to do as she had done, to be consumed by the Wolf and to consume him is to be consumed not only by the Gift but by its spirit. This was how she tied the Wolf Gift to our line forever. This is how it was restored. Through the ritual of giving yourself to Hagano, taking him and letting him take you. No one can do it but you. This is why your are the Queen.”
“You cannot have sex with a ghost,” Kris said so forcefully it was almost funny.
Marabeth, squeezing Jason’s hand as he sank lower in his seat, looked his unshaved face, the prickles of red gold hair on his cheeks, remembered last night, and tried not to laugh. If only Kris knew, but then they had made love in human form and as wolves, and she knew they would do it again.
It was Seth, however, who suggested, quietly, “It may be a metaphor.”
“It is,” Jim said, “incomplete.”
Clotilde looked at with a challenge, but not with disbelief.
“And who are you?”
“I am the King.”
“We had no kings,” Clotilde said. “Our clan had only queens.”
“Maybe you did have kings,” Jim said. “Maybe you just killed them. But whatever happened, you do not have the whole story. It wasn’t just a matter of blood. It was a matter of sorcery. Hagano used a Chalice to transform, and Leinghelde used a glass Orb. We know what happened to one, but not to the other.”
“Then you do know everything,” Clotilde said, her face Changing.
“We know everything,” Jim said, “except why my line was killed off, why our enemies attempted to steal—succeeded in stealing the Cup and would have stolen the Orb.”
Clotilde stood up and she left the room and returned with a case. She opened it up, and placed, squarely on her lap, a flawless, round globe of transparent glass.
“But it was our share,” Clotilde said. “The thing which our family held as you held the Cup. We kept it better, I suppose.”
The older woman looked about the young people in the room.
“It is ours.”
“It is mine,” Seth said, simply, and picked it up from Clotilde while her mouth opened and shut like a trap.
“Or it is Lewis’s, or Loreal’s. It belongs to our family, and it was meant to return to us, and there will be no sleeping with ghost, and no incest.
“And now,” Seth continued, “unless you have more to tell us, I think this is everything.”
He stood up, the Orb firmly in his hands.
“You are welcome to come with us if you please, but we all traveled a very long way, and we’ll all be going to our separates homes. Until then, we’ve got to get back to Long Lees.”


THAT'S ALL FOR TONIGHT. WE WILL RETURN AFTER THE WEEKEND, AND IN A FEW SECTIONS CONCLUDE OUR VERY LONG STORY.

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was an excellent portion! Jenean’s Aunt had a lot to say and it was interesting to learn all this information. Things are coming together and that was some great writing! I look forward to more after the weekend! I hope you have a nice weekend!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yes Clotilde had a great deal to saybut Seth did one thing and was great with it. In a future draft, Clotilde might have a little less of a reveal at the end. She might be spooled out throughout the whole story.

 

[ChrisGibson]

CONCLUSION OF CHAPTER EIGHT



“Well, that was something different,” Peter said.
“But not so different,” Jim said. “For we saw it happen, saw Rosamunda consume Hagano.”
“But,” Marabeth said, “I believed that, well, actually, my brothers Kris and James, Myron believed, that the Grandmother was Leinghelde, the first of us, the first Queen. And then the Riding Hood was Rosamunda, her granddaughter.”
Clotilde smiled with approval, and nodded.
“But… what of the wolf? the wolf who kills the Grandmother?” Peter said.
“But you know who it was,” Clotilde told him.
“Hagano.”
“Yes.”
“But the wolf killed the grandmother.”
“The Wolf did not kill the grandmother,” Clotilde said. “The Wolf… how do you say… fucked the Grandmother. Leinghelde was the child of Hagano the Shapeshifter, but she became the shapeshifter because she was also his lover.”
“Like Pamela,” Marabeth murmured.
“Many times over,” Jim said.
Seth looked at Jim and Jim understood, the reason he was resistant to the damaged version of the Gift, the version that was a curse.
“Leinghelde bore her daughter and her son, her son who was the first of the Jaquils, our family, which split off from yours and remained in France, but whom Geneva would marry back into. Leinghelde sent Rosamunda to do as she had done, to be consumed by the Wolf and to consume him is to be consumed not only by the Gift but by its spirit. This was how she tied the Wolf Gift to our line forever. This is how it was restored. Through the ritual of giving yourself to Hagano, taking him and letting him take you. No one can do it but you. This is why your are the Queen.”
“You cannot have sex with a ghost,” Kris said so forcefully it was almost funny.
Marabeth, squeezing Jason’s hand as he sank lower in his seat, looked his unshaved face, the prickles of red gold hair on his cheeks, remembered last night, and tried not to laugh. If only Kris knew, but then they had made love in human form and as wolves, and she knew they would do it again.
It was Seth, however, who suggested, quietly, “It may be a metaphor.”
“It is,” Jim said, “incomplete.”
Clotilde looked at with a challenge, but not with disbelief.
“And who are you?”
“I am the King.”
“We had no kings,” Clotilde said. “Our clan had only queens.”
“Maybe you did have kings,” Jim said. “Maybe you just killed them. But whatever happened, you do not have the whole story. It wasn’t just a matter of blood. It was a matter of sorcery. Hagano used a Chalice to transform, and Leinghelde used a glass Orb. We know what happened to one, but not to the other.”
“Then you do know everything,” Clotilde said, her face Changing.
“We know everything,” Jim said, “except why my line was killed off, why our enemies attempted to steal—succeeded in stealing the Cup and would have stolen the Orb.”
Clotilde stood up and she left the room and returned with a case. She opened it up, and placed, squarely on her lap, a flawless, round globe of transparent glass.
“But it was our share,” Clotilde said. “The thing which our family held as you held the Cup. We kept it better, I suppose.”
The older woman looked about the young people in the room.
“It is ours.”
“It is mine,” Seth said, simply, and picked it up from Clotilde while her mouth opened and shut like a trap.
“Or it is Lewis’s, or Loreal’s. It belongs to our family, and it was meant to return to us, and there will be no sleeping with ghost, and no incest.
“And now,” Seth continued, “unless you have more to tell us, I think this is everything.”
He stood up, the Orb firmly in his hands.
“You are welcome to come with us if you please, but we all traveled a very long way, and we’ll all be going to our separates homes. Until then, we’ve got to get back to Long Lees.”



Seth placed the heavy orb in Lewis’s hands, and Lewis held it, looking upon it and he said, “Yes, now. Yes…”
“What?” Chris said.
“Nothing,” Lewis said. “Only… well, now I begin to see. More.”
He handed it to Augustus, who held it and then Augustus handed to Loreal.
“I think,” Lewis said to Augustus, you should have the Sword after all.”
“No,” Augustus shook his head. “My heart was in a strange place when I sought. Besides, I hold the Lantern.”
“And Loreal holds the Chalice,” Lewis put out his hand toward Loreal.
“I will hold the Orb. Me and Seth, we should hold the Orb and the Sword together.”
Levy looked at the Orb and Lewis said, “You want to play with it, don’t you?”
“Kind of.”
“We’ll talk.”
“We can all talk later,” Augustus said, “but for tonight, we will have soft shell crab, gumbo with andouille, etouffee, crab. Oh, so many things!”
“To celebrate the return of the Orb?” Seth said.
“To celebrate that you are leaving.”
While the Dunharrows were talking, the Strausses and even the vampires, Dan Rawlinson and Lawrence Malone had been quiet. Tanitha had departed for Glencastle the night she came.
Now Peter said, “But how does it work? How does the Orb... and the Cup… do its thing? Their thing?”
“Don’t you understand?” Lewis began, then said, “Well, no, you don’t. In ancient times they did have great power, and have power still, but the Orb and Chalice were…. What I believe is called in modern terms, a McGuffin.”
Peter blinked and Jenean, beside Kris, tilted her head.
“All magical tools are,” Lewis continued. “The first rule in magic is that every magical tool is an extension of the mage. That’s why a wand is only a stick of wood. Nothing is more powerful than the one who bears it.
“What Augustus understood, in his way, and doubtless my Unlce Uriah too when he brought Kris to my initiation, was that we three, the drinkers, the Dunharrows, the Strausses and Kellers…. And I suppose the Jacquillards, who had once been united by something else, united by blood, I suppose, should be reunited again. The treasures which only we can use, and which only we should use, were to be returned to their proper work, which we will slowly relearn. The truth that was hidden, would be revealed.”
Peter opened his mouth, but Lewis continued:
“In your vision, which I barely saw, Rosamunda said to your father that if he fixed his eyes on her, then he would survive the Change. And then she said that you all needed your Queen, and your King. I tell you now, that if you learn the Change at will from Jim and from Marabeth, and even if you fix your eyes upon them when you feel forced into the Change on the full moon, you will be restored.”
“And you know this for a fact, Lewis Dunharrow?” Peter said.
“I know if for more than a fact, Peter Keller,” Lewis said. “With the Orb while I cannot see everything I know the things I have forgotten, and that I know as a witch knows anything.”
Her cousins, Myron and Peter, were looking at Marabeth. Jim, her new brother, and Kris her always brother were looking at her as well.
“Mara,” Joyce began, unable to describe the look on her friend’s face, and Jason said nothing.
“On Christmas Eve, I woke up in horror,” Marabeth said.
“And now, I sit here in joy.”


TOMORROW, THE CONCLUSION OF OUR STORY

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was very cool to learn more about the orb and the other magic items in this story. Things are really coming together and I will be sad to see the end of this story. Great writing and I look forward to the finale tomorrow! I hope you had a nice Sunday!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I did have a nice Sunday, and it is sad to see the end of a story we have been with for so long, but, I think, happy to see its outcome.

 

[ChrisGibson]

AND NOW, FRIENDS, THE CONCLUSION OF....

THE BLOOD​

CODA


LET
US
GO
IN PEACE



So, if you had never gone to the Strausses,” Laurie began, “then you would never have found the treasures you were looking for. And you would never have become the Maid?”
“Yes,” Loreal said. “It is very much something like that.”
“Hum,” Laurie said from the chair where he sat across from Loreal. A large window was between them and it looked out onto the garden of 1948 Brummel Street.
“Still,” Loreal said, “I don’t see how we would never have known them. In time I would have known Myron, at least, through Dan. And then, if you remember, Dan stumbled upon this house, long ago, when he was just a boy. The house revealed itself to him one Halloween. If it had not, he would never have escaped Rosamunde.”
“Are you saying all things have a reason?”
“No,” Loreal said. “I’m saying all things are linked, the way some vines come together and plants grow toward each other. Only very often we get in their way. If we get out of their way, they will, in time, come together.”
“There’s something about that in the Bible, I think.”
Lewis, who had been reading a book in the other room, but could not help but hear, and did not wish to help interrupting, said, “All good things come together for those who love God, those called according to his purpose. Do not ask me which epistle it comes from?”
In that same room, Chris and Sunny had been playing a very silent and very intense game of chess, and they both looked up for a moment. Tanitha, who was talking to Anne, did not.
Laurie looked a little silly. He laughed and rolled his tongue in his mouth.
“Are we, the witches and the vampires, those who love God and are called according to his purpose?”
“You would have to understand that we know so little of what the word God means, and you would have to believe love is much bigger and much wilder than most understand in order to believe that,” Lewis said. “And I do.”
The large front door opened, and Dan Rawlinson came in, still in his leather jacket, and swept his brown hair out of his face.
“What have I missed?”
“You’ve missed theology,” Laurie said as Dan bent down and kissed him, and then bent down and kissed Loreal as well, sitting at her feet like a child while she placed her hands in his hair.
“Ouch. I did twelve years of Catholic school. No theology for now.”
“But what I still don’t get,” Laurie said, “and maybe there is nothing to get, is why Evangeline wanted to take those treasures, and why Rosamunde the vampire had the same name as the other Rosamunde. Rosamunda? What have you.”
Lewis almost opened his mouth, but it was Chris Ashby who said, “You weren’t listening to Lewis. He already said it. When we were down south at Long Lees. The treasures in and of themselves have no power—”
“Except to the witch and as great as the witch,” Laurie said.
“But you must read into that,” Chris said, and Lewis looked up at him delighted and surprised.
Chris sat down on the arm of Lewis’s chair.
“The objects have power for the witch. They can’t do anything on their own. They must have used, especially the Cup when Hagano drank from it, a powerful substance. Had you wondered what was in the cup Hagano drank, so that even though he was killed, he could even take corporeal form. He could still be a wolf. He could live forever?”
“Vampire blood!” Dan said.
“Yes!” Chris said and Lewis looked at him.
“I’m sure you figured it out,” Chris said to him, “but your baby’s a smart blood drinker, and I can figure our things too.”
Lewis looked up at his pale blond lover who was giving him a cheesy grin, and asked, “But, my love, have you figured out why there were two Rosamundes?”
“That I have not. I don’t know what you know now, or what the sorcerer you once were knew, but if, long ago, the witches made us, and if, as Augustus said, long ago witches could do the Change, then surely you would have known some way to… alchemize?”
“Alchemize is a good word,” Lewis said and could not help touching Chris’s hand.
“Alchemize drinker blood to do for Hagano, and I guess for Rosamunda in a way, what was not done for any other werewolf, make them able to have substance and be alive as long as they had descendants who could see them.”
“Yes,” Lewis said, “and tie the Gift to their lives.”
“So,” Loreal said, now, “if you could really destroy Hagano—”
“The Strausses would cease being wolves,” Lewis said. “But they were not looking to destroy him, and I do not think he was looking to be destroyed.”
“And now Jason is one too,” Dan said.
“Yes,” said Lewis. “It would seem as if he is. Hagano offered, and he gladly took it. I wonder what the children between he and Marabeth will be like. I’m sure they’ll have them.”
“Is Seth coming back with us?” Loreal said. “When and if we go back to Chicago?”
“You are going back to finish college,” Lewis said. “You’ve missed some weeks but you can make up for it, and I’m not having it said that a Dunharrow was a college dropout because she missed her last semester. As for Seth, he has found a partner, and Jim has a good job, a nice place, a large family.”
“And as long as he calls us,” Dan added, “he’s only a vampire’s back ride away from you.”



“But have you,” Kruinh asked Lewis, when they were alone, “figured out why there were two Rosamundes?”
“You know?”
“I do now.”
They were in Kruinh’s study. Sunny was silent, but present, and Lewis was enamoured of the surfer boy with the serious expression who reminded him so much and so little of his own Chris as, Lewis imagined, Kruinh was like and unlike him..
Kruinh said, “I was young when I became ruler of my clan. My father died when I was young for, as you know, we can, in time or by violence, die.
“I inherited from my grandfather, Ishamael. He did not die. He simply left. That is another story. But speaking of other stories, he told me once of how he rid himself of a traitor vampire. He spilled his blood and gave it to a witch who was from the southern lands as we were. A witch who had asked for the blood and a witch who, after some thinking, I believe was you.”
This did surprise Lewis, but Kruinh continued.
“When I came to power, I kept all my sisters by me, Miriamne, my closest sister, Asenath, and the oldest was Magdalene, but she lost her mind for a time and became something strange. We had to lock her away. But the second oldest was Rhodias. She married Romuald and they went to England—”
“Where they became Court instead of Kertesz.”
“Yes.
“I wanted her far from me and maybe this was a mistake,” Kruinh said. “She married a traitor and the son of a traitor. For Romuald was the son of the drinker my grandfather had killed.”
“So they named their child Rosamunde in…. irony?”
“And doubtless told her the story. She would have told Evangeline the same story in time.”
Lewis sighed and said, “But if only we had known. I guess there’s nothing for it. Evangeline still would have done many of the things she did. She wouldn’t have killed the Strausses, but she would still have killed Lynn Draper.”
Lewis felt, suddenly, as if he’d dropped a pebble down a deep and empty well. There was a great silence, and then Kruinh spoke.
“Did you care for Lynn Draper?”
Here there was a tiny intake of Sunny’s breath. His blue eyes darted to Kruinh, but Kruinh shook his head.
“She was a good woman from what I saw. I liked her. She wasn’t for Laurie. She wasn’t for this world.”
Kruinh nodded. His long finger traced the window ledge and then he said, “Evangeline did not kill Lynn Draper.”
“But she did. Everyone—”
“Evangeline,” Kruinh said firmly, turning to Lewis, “did not kill Lynn Draper.
Lewis looked across the room at the drinker and, at last, Kruinh said, “Do you understand me?”
“But why?” Lewis asked.
“She had gone to Laurie and told him no longer did she love him, but that she had cast out his baby.”
“For that?”
“No,” Kruinh shook his head, dismissively. “I am not some tiresome Catholic priest. But Laurie is not a man, not in the normal sense, and certainly not a mortal one. Ordinary men reconcile themselves to things because they must, or at least most do. But what of a Drinker who is one hundred seventy years old, who is full of strength, who fought in wars and has killed and will kill again? He killed that man working for Eve Moreland, tore off his head. Had he killed another innocent I would have had to banish him, even kill him. Laurie wanted to kill her. He was stopping himself, but the rage grew. As surely as you know what you know, I knew from the moment Lynn told him what she had done she was a dead woman. And so I took things out of Lawrence’s hands, so that he could have his happiness for once. I could not lose him, and Daniel loves him, and Daniel is the light of my eyes. So I made the choice of a ruler, and as a ruler I think you understand.”
“I would have done it,” Sunny said. “I thought you were going to do it. I would have done it for you.”
“No,” Kruinh shook his head. “A ruler must do certain things for himself. If Dan is the son I lost and the light of my eyes, then you are my very heart. The blood had to be on my hands. I could not allow it to be on yours.”
Lewis, who had departed from Long Lees remembering that, nearly three hundred years ago, Augustus, Susanna and Octavian, his great-great grandfather, had murdered every white person for miles around in order to gain freedom, and who had joined himself to a drinker of blood, understood all the Kruinh had done and said:
“In your place, Kruinh, I think I would have ended up doing the same thing.”
“Of course you would have, Lewis,” Sunny said, though Kruinh did not speak. The blond man smiled for once. “You and Kruinh are so alike, I keep on forgetting you don’t have fangs.”


In those first few days after they returned to Chicago, Owen said, “You must have brought the Carolinas back with you,” for the frozen winter gave way to a premature spring.
“Don’t worry,” Lewis told his uncle. “I’m sure it won’t last.”
“That,” Owen Dunharrow noted, “is most certainly the truth.”
He knew that he shouldn’t be sad that Seth was not coming home right away, and he knew that he should be glad that when he came, he would come with a handsome blonde werewolf who was devoted to him.
“Still,” Owen shook his head. “Werewolves. Hum.”
Chris and Lewis stayed with him and told Owen everything that had happened, and when they were done, Owen said to Levy, “Well, I have lost one nephew, but maybe I have gained another.”
Levy Berringer gave a bow and said, “I am at your service.”
Levy Berringer did contact his mother. He did send her letter, and in it he told her that he loved her. The truth is troubled Black women who are drug addicts don’t often go to the police demanding their children be found, and if they do they are not taken seriously, and Latavia Berringer could barely care for herself. She took comfort in the fact that her son was safe somewhere in Chicago, and left it at that.
Seth, though family, had never been much of a witch in the time when he lived unde Owen’s roof, Before he had come to Lassador and known Jim, most of the time he was quiet and afraid, not to mention lacking in skill. None of these things was a problem for Levy, and he proved, as Owen said to Lewis, “Even more masterful than you at that age.”
Owen saw school as even more useless than Lewis did, and so it was Lewis’s insistence that he go to school that kept Levy in junior high some of the time until he actually began to like it all of the time.
Lewis liked apartments and had no use for houses, but he liked living near Owen and not making his adopted son travel far between the two homes. So, he and Chris moved to the same block, between the sound of the surf and the rattle of the El train, and took out a large flat with a great sunlit porch and hardwood floors.
But Lewis Dunharrow was wrong in at least one thing. The winter, possibly by magic, but more certainly by the warming of the globe, remained mild, and spring came early that year. One evening, when Levy was staying over at his friend Steve’s, Chris and Lewis had a quiet night to themselves and, as the moon was rising very white in the deep blue sky, went walking toward the Lake.
“We haven’t said a word to each other,” Chris Ashby noted as they walked down Lunt Avenue. On either side of them were the large brick townhouses and apartments, and the moon was just beginning to shine through the thick cover of trees between houses and on the lawns.
“That’s kind of a good thing,” Lewis said. “Not that I don’t want to talk to you. Just that…” and then Lewis stopped talking, and he looked at the garden of flowers, white gardenias in the night, the roses dark and colorless, but with sweet fragrance rising on the other side of the black gate that was still open, and the path that led up to the door to the apartment building.
“You know,” Lewis continued after a while, “it’s nice not to have to say things just to fill the space. Not to... have to be entertaining.”
“I am most unentertaining,” Chris said.
“On the contrary,” Lewis said, catching his hand, “I find you a source of endless entertainment.”
Chris smiled down at him.
“Well, that’s to your credit.”
“I doubt that.”
They stood at the end of the street where it made a little cul de sac and led to the park before the beach. Both were that was nearly empty at this time of night.
“You hear about moonlight,” Chris said. “You know, you hear people say that’s a moonlit beach. But that, all that white light turning the water blue, all that water, that sky, how it looks like a polished bowl. That’s a moonlit night.”
Lewis’s phone buzzed and he murmured, “Levy.”
He took out the phone and frowned with surprise.
“It’s Erika.”
“I thought she was dead,” Chris said.
“Not dead, just absent.”
“For almost a year.”
“ She left a text.”
“Lewis read, “‘Sorry I lost touch. So much going on here? Is there anything new with you?’”
Chris bursts out laughing, and then Lewis began laughing, and the two of them laughed so hard they could barely keep standing.
“Why don’t you text her back and say, ‘Not much,’.”
After they had laughed like children a little longer, Lewis motioned to him, and Chris followed him past the park benches and the swing set, and onto the sand, and as Lewis took off his shoes, and Chris took his off as well, Chris took Lewis’s hand in his, and then they started walking along the sand. Only half way toward the beach, where sand began to be wet and firm, Chris looked down at their linked hands. The world was so huge, and the lake the size of a sea, its waves made sucking sounds as they rolled up onto the pebbly sand and pulled what it could away.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get our feet wet. Just a little.”
Lewis walked into the water saying, “I’ll regret this.”
“Being wet? Because there are things far worse than that.”
They stood in the early spring water, Lewis thinking it was all fine and good for a vampire, but this was getting a bit chilly and then Chris Ashby interrupted his thoughts by saying, “I’m going to kiss you, alright?”
“Alright.”
They kissed and, Christopher Ashby’s arm wrapped about Lewis’s waist, they looked over the water and then the concave coast with its skyscrapers far to the south, twinkling in the night, all of under the careless moon.
“I suppose I should get you home, Mr. Dunharrow,” Chris said.
“Yes,” Lewis said, “I suppose you should.”

THE END​