18. Re

18

REUNION

A fter Lucca leaves, I dress, then check on the sleeping Quinn before heading downstairs. I don’t sense my parents anywhere in the house; they eat dinner after sunset, so I decide to head outside for a while.

I watch as our horse master Benvolio walks a new pair of yearlings up our white gravel drive, towards the barn. The hunting hounds greet them, swarming the horses and baying as the new duo shy away. With a soft word and what I see now is a gentle wave of magic, Ben has all the hounds sitting quietly, a respectful distance away now rather than frightening the horses anymore.

The russet hounds are excited as I step to them, and old Ben gives me a nod. He’s never been a man of many words; I wonder now if he was Darkwatch with all his quiet sobriety. Perhaps someone my father recruited long ago into his and my mother’s Dark Fae saving operations, Ben continues through a break in the trees with the yearlings, to exercise them at a paddock there.

I laugh as the eager hounds yip and bark, bouncing all over me now. It’s been so long since I saw them, as I crouch down now, petting a few. They lick me avidly; and something in me calms now to be home.

As I cuddle the hounds, I glance around with fresh eyes, marveling at how serene my parent’s farm is. Birds twitter in the oaks and cypress trees, our olive groves and wine grapes just visible as they roll across the Florentine hillsides, and the cooling summer evening breathes all around. It’s beautiful; everything about it makes my heart sing as chickens peck at my boots now, bullying the hounds away so they can ruck up the dirt and get bugs for dinner.

The scent of wisteria envelops me from a pair of ancient vines that grow beside the manor, cascading over the house. I glance at the protective golden Faeanic sigils inscribed on the front steps, then the wide veranda and over the entire manor, and ease floods me. Because this warding is not just to keep enemies away, but also to make the farm thrive.

Along with everyone who lives here.

I feel the ward’s effect pour all through me, now that my magic is finally open and I can sense its true effect. It’s then that I feel a presence approach from the horse barn. I know without turning it’s my father; I give the dogs one last scratch and rise, facing him.

Elegant, my father has tawny chestnut hair with streaks of bright gold and aged silver in it. Tall and lean, he wears a dark green Victorian vest embroidered with gold, grey breeches, russet riding boots and a white shirt tonight, plus a beautiful men’s torque around his neck. Cuffs of ornately-worked gold are at his wrists; his slow, calm command weighs me as he nears.

He stops before me—as his deep, emerald-grey eyes suddenly tear.

“Adia!” he says, though it’s almost a sob as we stand before each other. I know why, as a deep energy flows between us now. My eyes tear also, feeling how much he’s missed me. A powerful, loving energy flows through me now from him. And I know no matter who’s child I was, he is my father; my real father.

I know it to my bones as I step forward, embracing him .

He gathers me in his arms. It’s a father’s loving embrace as I cling to him, tears stinging my eyes hard now as they cascade down my cheeks. I’ve felt so much for my parents these past weeks; love, rage, hate, betrayal, amazement. I hitch a hard breath in his strong arms, as joy overwhelms me and I laugh.

Somehow, it’s a brighter, more bubbling laugh than anything I’ve ever made in my life. My father laughs with me, picking me up and whirling me around before setting me back on my feet.

He pulls back, staring at me now; his green-grey eyes become intense as he marvels at me, brushing a lock of red hair back from my face. He shakes his head, his eyes beaming, even as I feel someone else approach from the house. I know it’s my mother, come out to join us as she bustles up with no bullshit.

She turns me at once by the shoulder, gripping me in her iron embrace.

A petite Fae woman, my mother wears a blousy copper and cream striped summer dress tonight, though she has her filthy white formulating apron on. With fiery red hair just as wild as mine, her piercing dark eyes are like ebony, as a sensation of beautiful homecoming flows between her and me.

Her eyes burn with tears as she pulls back, reaching up and touching my cheeks with her strong hands. She blinks, and though her tears aren’t shed, she regards me with an intense, righteous knowing now.

“ Figlia mia! ” my mother says. “My beautiful daughter! I wasn’t sure if we’d ever see you alive again!”

“ Mamma ,” I choke, knowing I could have been dead by now had I not met Quinn and Lucca all those weeks ago. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

“I love you, cara mia . But nothing is okay, not at all.” She inhales a deep breath, steadying herself. Stepping up beside my mother, my father curls her in a loving embrace to his side.

Even as he reaches out, pulling me to his other side as he beams.

“Come. Let us head to the house and have dinner.” My mother bustles us towards the manor, breaking the spell that had caught us all in the yard. Putting an arm around my waist, she hustles me up the steps and inside to the foyer.

As I admire our manor’s gorgeous entry hall, festooned with live plants and dried herbs hanging in all the white stuccoed niches, plus the classical Italian Renaissance statuary hiding here and there, a colorful light is cast around the space. The ornate dragonfly glass flutes in their wrought-iron chandeliers are lit for the oncoming night; my mother snaps her fingers, and her house and apothecary help Dorabella comes rushing out from the formulating pantry.

“Dora. Dinner for our daughter. The best of what we have right now, please,” my mother says.

“Yes, Illyria.” Dorabella curtseys in her light green summer dress with an apron nearly as filthy as my mother’s, though I see her blink with intrigue at how I’m being treated by my father and mother tonight. She moves away to our vast white stuccoed kitchen that crawls with even more plants and dried herbs than an apothecarist’s treasure horde, as my mother gestures my father and I onto our beautiful receiving parlor at the rear of the manor.

Full of plants and stunning natural light, even as the day fades, the parlor is topped by a wrought crystal dome with dragonfly stained glass windows open to let in the evening breeze. The room crawls with blossoming plants on wrought-iron strands like a conservatory; urging us to the dining table, my mother beckons me to sit.

We settle in the dining space, a living area of green silk settees and wrought-iron tables beyond. We’ll wind up there after dinner, as my father takes his russet leather, high-backed chair at the head of the solid oak table now.

My mother bustles to an alcove of liqueurs, fetching a dark green crystal bottle with an ornate stopper. A libation we’ve never touched before, it swirls with Fae colors as my mother pours it into tiny crystal cordial glasses. As my mother hands around the vibrant apple-green and violet draught, beaming, I know she’s uncorked her best tonight.

Something made by her magic, before she had to hide it.

As we all raise glasses and sip, I’m rocked by the lovely cordial. Happy and vibrant, it’s as if pure sunlight washes through my veins as I beam now at my family. The cordial has the same effect on my father, who chuckles as his power surges in delight, creating luminous green-grey rainbows in the air.

Silver rainbows curl throughout my father’s magic, as my mother’s opens, as well. Glimmering a fierce rose gold in the twilight, intense gold and red rainbows wash through my mother’s power, as if ready for battle.

As we beam at each other, our emotions unleashed by the drink, my magic shimmers out as well. Potent with its dark, oil slick rainbows, its natural flashes of silver and gold light flare more in the settling twilight. Extending a hand, my father moves it through my power with an intense thoughtfulness. As my mother does the same, heaving a sad but pleased sigh, I know they understand what I am.

Better than even I do, perhaps.

“Our Animante Dark Fae,” my father says at last as he glances at me. “Making waves at the Summer Fae Court and infuriating the King. Not to mention the Vampire Council.”

“How are you here, Ariana?” my mother asks then, her dark gaze intense as she regards me, despite the cordial’s effect. “For we have heard the Summer Fae gossip of you, but nothing from you yourself, other than that one phone call to let us know you were alive. How did you come to survive getting thrust into the Twilight Realm? And becoming bonded to Valerio Incendari and Lucca Bellari, both mighty powers of the Fae.”

I know it’s time to fill my parents in on everything that’s happened to me, since that fateful day at the art auction. As I lay it all out now, right from first meeting Quinn, up through our escape through Bello’s portal in the pizzeria last night, my father and mother listen .

Dinner comes and goes, a lovely pork ragù over creamy polenta, with mini fig and prosciutto pizzette on the side. After we finish the green cordial, we open a bottle of chianti, then another as I talk. Nodding and alert, neither of my parents seem to feel the effects of the alcohol, though I’m feeling it plenty now. As I finish my tale, having a deep swig of my wine, I pin them both with my gaze.

Even though I’m feeling fuzzy now from our libations.

“I wanted to speak with you both tonight, not just because I need to know more about my real Fae family,” I say now, “but because I also want to unravel why the Gold Eyes Made me that night. And has been searching for me, waiting for the right moment to push me to open my power, all these years.”

“Yes, all secrets must out now.” My father watches me. He takes my mother’s hand where she sits on her dining chair beside him. “You must know, that night was one of the most horrible of our entire lives, Ariana, and we have been carrying that terror all this time. We confronted the Gold Eyes that night, just like I once faced off with the creature to save Prince Valerio and Lucca. As with them, the damage was already done to you, however. All your mother and I could do was spirit you away someplace there was no magic—to keep you from whatever the creature wanted of you. And King Bellari, as well.”

“Archivolio Bellari wanted something from me? After I was turned Dark Fae?” I blink now as I sip my wine, frowning.

“The King had never hunted your mother and I, previously,” my father says now, dire. “It was as if he knew we were involved in the Dark Fae operations but turned a blind eye to us, perhaps from our distinguished service among the Summer Fae. But he raked our names through the Fae rumor mill after that night. He made it seem as if we had gone mad… and removed our names from all titles of valor we had received in the War. He didn’t want his royals and nobles at the Palace to know what was really going on—that something terrible was hunting the Summer Fa e, to turn them Dark, as it searched for the perfect Animante it could control to its aims. It was something too powerful to stop—even by the King himself.”

As my father sits back in his chair, holding my mother’s hand, she nods, confirming his tale. With a dark frown, foreboding filling me, I lean forward in my chair.

“The Gold Eyes was hunting Summer Fae. But what do you mean, it was searching for the perfect Animante , and couldn’t be stopped by the King?” I breathe, watching my father.

“You were not the only infant Summer Fae child the creature tried to Make Dark, at the time,” my mother says now, taking up the tale. “Twelve other infants had been drained to death, in the same manner as you, on the full moon under which you were born. You are aware House Altvie is one of the thirteen Royal Houses of the Summer Fae, one of the strongest throughout history. But far more infants than you were killed—all from various branches of the Royal Houses, upon that dire harvest moon. We had gone to the Altvie house that night not just to congratulate your family at your birth, but to offer our protection. For Adicus knew it was the Gold Eyes causing all those deaths—trying to Make those infants Dark Fae and failing.”

“You knew?” I am shocked as I face my father. “You knew it was the Gold Eyes killing those babies?”

“I did.” He nods, intense as he watches me. “Battle a demon like that, and its taint never leaves you. I felt the creature’s madness upon every crime scene we evaluated back then. We were searching for any left alive who might be Dark Fae, in the carnage that creature wrecked upon all twelve houses. None survived in those families’ branches, however, save you. We came too late to save your parents; but it was not us who fought the creature off when we found you, Ariana. It was you. The Gold Eyes did not leave voluntarily that night, not like it did when I saved Valerio and Lucca. It snarled as it fled—as if it had tried to take you with it—and failed.”

“You think it was taking me to the King?” I glance at my mother, a strange sinking feeling filling me.

“For why else would he impugn us so badly,” my mother asks now, “than if he wanted you for something, and we thwarted his plans?”

“Unless it was the Gold Eyes himself who wanted me.” Something goes dark inside me then. “Perhaps it put pressure on the King to punish you, so you’d flee to the human world and do exactly as it wanted. So it could find me later and open my magics when I was unguarded… at the precise right moment for me to meet Quinn and Lucca, and for our trio’s bond.”

“My gods.” My father’s voice is quiet as he watches me with a shocked intensity. “You believe the Gold Eyes orchestrated all this… from the very beginning?”

“In all our histories about Revenants, there is no record of them ever being sane enough to plot and plan like this.” My mother cuts in now with an incredulous look. “They simply torture their prey and endlessly drain them… until they tire of the game and slay them, or those Fae survive somehow as Dark. Revenants are not thinking creatures, they are animals of passion and Night, Ariana—they could not plan so far ahead with something as complex and diabolical as this.”

“But the Gold Eyes is different, Illyria.” My father glances at my mother. “Ancient stories talk of it as a creature with a cunning mind, and planning behind its too-bright golden gaze. As if the Master Vampire it once was never lost its sanity—or perhaps only lost the part of its sanity that kept it in its human shape, and tethered it to reason.”

“It’s not a Master Vampire,” I say now as I drop the bomb on my parents. “It’s a god. An ancient Ascendant of the otherworld … who cut its own heart out when it Fell in Florence. And became what it is today. The Descendant Staphylogenes.”

“Staphylogenes!” My mother pales, as if she knows this story. “Demon of Passion, Glorifier of Destruction, Dissonance in the Music of the Spheres. That is what’s after you, cara mia? ”

I blink in shock at my mother as she says these things.

Then lean in, intent, as I pin her with an unforgiving gaze.

“Tell me what you know about it. Now.”