Chapter Twenty-Three: Caldric

Caldric's fingers danced across the piano keys with practiced grace, the haunting notes weaving through the grand ballroom, transfixing everyone present.

His fears that his playing would be subpar were gone. Although he suspected his playing alone was not responsible for his audience's reaction.

He suspected Merri's magic might have something to do with the utterly captivated crowd before him, who stood with their eyes fixed on him, their breaths held in rapt anticipation.

But another fear was starting to grow.

He had already played two of his most beloved compositions, each one met with enthusiastic applause, yet Aralyn had not returned. The unease that had been simmering beneath the surface now clawed at him, a cold tendril of fear winding its way around his chest. Where was she? Had something gone wrong?

No, she could handle it, he assured himself, not wanting this cold shadow of fear to affect his music.

He needed to keep everyone here. Particularly Sylvi and Bertram.

As Caldric continued to play, his hands moving automatically, guided by centuries of muscle memory, he let his gaze wander the room.

There they were, standing together, as enraptured as their guests.

And that was where he needed them to stay.

He fought to keep his expression serene, to not let his growing anxiety show as the last notes of his current piece faded into the air. He needed to do something to buy Aralyn more time—or, if necessary, to prepare to extract her from whatever trouble she might be facing. He allowed himself a brief pause, his fingers hovering above the keys, before beginning his latest composition—Aralyn.

It seemed somehow appropriate to play this piece while he waited for her return.

The melody was tender, imbued with all the emotions he could no longer feel, but somehow, when he was with Aralyn, still understood. It was a piece meant to convey the depth of his connection to her, the bond that had grown between them despite everything. He poured his hopes into the music, silently willing her to hear it, to return to him safely.

The crowd was spellbound, leaning forward as if to capture each delicate note.

On and on he played.

She still had not returned.

Then, as the composition reached its crescendo, out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sylvi, leaned closer to her brother, Bertram. They were whispering, their expressions inscrutable, but the way Bertram's eyes flickered toward the door sent a chill down Caldric's spine.

Dread pooled in his stomach. They knew something. Or at the very least, they suspected.

He needed to act.

The last notes of "Aralyn" lingered in the air like a fading sigh, and the room erupted into applause. Caldric rose from the piano with a graceful, theatrical bow, acknowledging the adoring crowd even as his mind spun. The applause grew louder, with cries of "Encore!" and "More!" echoing through the room. He gave a second bow, taking in the sea of faces. All the while, his thoughts remained locked on Aralyn.

"I would love to oblige," he said, his voice carrying smoothly across the room, "but I believe the time has come for a toast." He straightened, his eyes landing on Sylvi and Bertram, who now looked slightly taken aback. "A toast to our gracious hosts, Sylvi and Bertram Tolioni, whose generosity and hospitality are unmatched."

The crowd turned their attention to the siblings, murmuring in agreement as servants quickly moved through the room, distributing glasses of fine blood wine. Caldric took a glass, his fingers brushing against the cold crystal, but he was already planning his next move. He needed to get out of here and find Aralyn, and he needed to do it now.

Sylvi moved toward him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion, but Caldric was faster. He offered her a charming smile, one that had disarmed countless others before her, and smoothly sidestepped her approach. With practiced ease, he made his way through the crowd, weaving between guests as he accepted their gracious praise.

The moment he was clear of the room, his pace quickened, his senses homing in on Aralyn's scent. It was faint but unmistakable, a delicate trail that led him through the house. He followed the scent, every nerve on edge until he reached a heavy oak door slightly ajar.

"Caldric," Aralyn hissed, her voice barely audible.

He turned away from the heavy oak door. "Aralyn."

She slipped out of a room across the hall, her skirts gathered up in her hands. "We need to go."

"Do you have it?" he whispered as he reached for her hand and led her along the hallway, back toward the ballroom.

"Yes," she said, her eyes bright with triumph. "Now we just have to get out of here before they realize it's gone."

It sounded so simple. Perhaps their absence had gone unnoticed, and they would be able to slip back inside the ballroom as if nothing had happened.

But Aralyn tensed at his side, and he knew Sylvi and Bertram were coming for them.

Caldric's mind raced. Running would only confirm any suspicions and would inevitably lead to a hunt—one that they might not escape from. No, they had to be smarter than that. He glanced around, his eyes falling on the rose garden that bordered the terrace. An idea took shape in his mind, one that was as desperate as it was audacious.

"This way," he murmured, taking her hand and guiding her into a room that looked out over the terrace.

"We can't run for it," she told him, but still she followed.

"We're not going to run," Caldric assured her.

"Then what are we doing?" Aralyn asked as they entered a room with a floor-to-ceiling window.

"Do you trust me?" he asked as he let go of her hand opened the window wide and slipped a leg over the sill.

"I do," she said, which, considering his plan, was more than a little ironic.

"Then come." He held out his hands to her.

Aralyn glanced down at his hands, then cast a furtive look over her shoulder before she accepted his help and scrambled out of the window.

Her skirts billowed up around her like a cloud of red silk. Caldric steadied her as she landed beside him on the terrace, her eyes questioning. But there was no time for explanations, and even if there were, his plan would work better if it was a surprise.

"Now what?" Aralyn whispered as she smoothed her dress. The soft night breeze blew a strand of her hair across her face and carried with it the sweet scent of roses and the distant strains of music from the ballroom.

"This way." He led her along the terrace until they reached a secluded spot bathed in moonlight, the perfect place to make a stand.

Or… His hand drifted to his breast pocket.

"They're coming," Aralyn said. "Tell me what your plan is."

Caldric turned to her, his decision made in an instant. He dropped to one knee, pulling a ring from his breast pocket—a ring he had carried for decades, never expecting to use. But now, in this moment, it was the only thing that might save them.

"Aralyn," he said, his voice steady despite the urgency in his heart. "Will you marry me?"

"Caldric." Her eyes widened in shock, and her head moved from side to side as if in refusal. This was the last thing she had expected.

For a moment, the world seemed to tip on its axis.

Would Sylvi and Bertram believe this was a real proposal?

Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded, her voice shaky. "Yes," she whispered, as if the word itself could seal their fate.

Caldric stood, slipping the ring onto her finger with a tenderness that belied the danger surrounding them. Then, in one swift motion, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

If this was his last moment on this earth, it would be one of the best.

"How sweet," Sylvi purred, a sly smile curving her lips.

"So very sweet," Caldric said, as he brushed the stray strand of hair from her face. "Aralyn has graciously agreed to be my bewitching bride."

"A bride, you say?" Bertram's voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it that Caldric didn't miss. "Then let's have a wedding! How glorious it will be!"

Sylvi's eyes flicked between Caldric and Aralyn, his expression unreadable, but there was no mistaking the tension in the air. They had bought themselves time, but the danger was far from over.

Caldric knew they needed to tread carefully now. Sylvi and Bertram might be playing along, but their eyes held a glint that promised trouble. Still, for now, they were safe.

Caldric tightened his grip on Aralyn's hand, a silent promise that he would see them both through this. "Indeed," he said smoothly, masking his nerves with the confidence of a centuries-old vampire. "A wedding to remember."

Sylvi's smile widened, but Caldric saw the calculating look in her eyes. "Then let's not delay," she purred. "The night is young, and we have much to celebrate."

As Sylvi and Bertram turned to lead the way back to the house, Caldric exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Aralyn.

They followed the Tolionis back into the house, their hands clasped tightly together. The heist might have been successful, but the night was far from over.

And now, they had to survive the most dangerous game of all.

Marriage.

"Are you okay?" Caldric noted Aralyn's dazed look as they entered the house through a side door rather than the window.

"I'm fine," she replied, her eyes flickering to the ring on her finger.

"It was Demi's." Caldric tensed his jaw as memories of his sister came back to him. "She made me promise that one day I would find a woman to give my heart to."

"Caldric. I..." But her words were cut off as they entered the ballroom and Sylvi clapped her hands together to gain everyone's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a surprise for you all." She paused as everyone stilled and turned to look at her. "A wedding!"

"Oh my," Caldric murmured as reality set in. This was really going to happen.

And he wanted it, too. He wanted Aralyn to be his wife.

But did she want to be his husband?

Had she said yes because of their dire circumstances? If those circumstances were different, would she have refused him?

Hell, if those circumstances had been different, he would probably never have found the courage to propose.

"Congratulations." Silas stepped out from the crowd and came toward them with his hand outstretched.

"Thank you." Caldric took his hand and shook it firmly.

"Aralyn." Merri went to the vampire slayer and embraced her, then pulled back, looking into her eyes, searching for an answer to the same question Caldric had.

"Oh, wonderful, we have a best man and a maid of honor." Sylvi seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. "And Bertram can officiate."

"Is he qualified?" Silas asked.

"Oh, yes, he did one of those online things," Sylvi said with a wave of her hand. "Flowers. We need a bridal bouquet!"

"Are you doing this?" Silas asked.

Caldric cast a glance toward Aralyn. "I..."

"Cold feet already, Caldric?" Bertram asked, far too jovially.

"I always imagined a longer engagement," Caldric replied lightly.

"How about you, Aralyn?" Sylvi's eyes narrowed, like a hawk homing in on its prey.

"I'm as happy as a sandpiper," Aralyn said, suddenly recovering herself.

"And you want to marry Caldric?" Sylvi asked. "Or is this a fake wedding to cover your tracks?"

"Oh boy," Silas said and moved to put himself between Sylvi and Merri, who were standing next to Aralyn.

Caldric noted the heightened color in Aralyn's cheeks, the way her eyes had narrowed. She hadn't been shell-shocked by his proposal. She had been playing a part. Looking vulnerable, meek.

"We know you stole the Myasma Stone," Bertram said, finally revealing their hand.

"Retrieving," Aralyn said.

"Well, whatever you want to call it, the reason we lured you here was so that you could break the curse Perdita Beaufort put on this family," Sylvi said.

"Did you know we have not been able to leave this house or its grounds for centuries?" Bertram spat, his usual cool demeanor slipping.

"I did not see that coming," Silas said loudly.

"Neither did I." Caldric rolled his shoulders. Ready for a fight. "But it does explain the fascination with the rose garden."

"If my ancestor cursed you, I am sure she had a good reason," Aralyn said.

"Good reason!" Bertram snorted, and Sylvi put a hand on him to try to restrain him as his fangs protruded.

"She cursed us because Bertram's roses won first place in the Wishing Moon Bay flower competition." Sylvi's voice rose to a high pitch and then she covered her mouth as she sobbed.

"And you expect me to believe that?" Aralyn asked.

"She cursed me to have eternal hat hair because I did not compliment her on her choice of hat at a social gathering," someone called out from the crowd. "I have never been able to wear a hat without my hair becoming messy and unruly. It takes me days to flatten it."

A murmur of sympathy rippled through the vampires gathered there.

"And I have eternal garlic breath!" another voice called out. "No one wants to kiss me. And all I did was comment that she'd been a little heavy-handed in a dish she had prepared."

"Perdita was curse-crazy," Sylvi's voice rose in indignation. "And we demand you break them."

"Hear, hear," a chorus rang out.

"You understand us, Caldric," Bertram implored. "Look at what her curse did to you."

"Caldric?" Aralyn came to him and took his hand. "You never did tell me why you were cursed."

Caldric placed his hand on hers and smiled sadly. "Perdita was infatuated with me. But I did not believe her feelings were true. She was in love with my music. With the idea that she was my muse. When I tried to explain..."

"She took away your ability to feel." Aralyn shook her head. Then she reached into the bodice of her dress and took out the Myasma Stone.

"You'll do it?" Bertram rushed forward. "Because I would love to enter the flower competition in Wishing Moon Bay. It's next weekend and my roses are at their peak..."

"Bertram," Sylvi reached for her brother. "Give Aralyn space."

"Oh, yes, of course, sorry." Bertram took a step back. "Go ahead."

"The thing is," Aralyn looked at Caldric apologetically. "I'm not sure how."

"She used blood magic to curse us," someone said.

"Okay," Aralyn said as she moved with purpose toward the center of the room. The gathered vampires watched her with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

And they had every reason to be skeptical. Perdita Beaufort's curses had endured for so long it was hard to believe so many of them were about to be freed.

Aralyn held the stone in her hand and used the sharp edge of it to cut her palm. Blood dripped from the wound, covering the stone and leaving droplets on the floor.

The vampires in the room all let out a collective moan as the desire to feast on a vampire hunter's blood gripped them. But Aralyn was more valuable to them than a quick snack.

She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his across the room. There was a brief, silent exchange between them—trust, love, fear—and then she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

" By blood, I bind, by blood, I break,

Let this curse no longer take.

From stone to dust, from night to day,

Let the chains of darkness fray ."

Caldric watched her intently, willing the spell to work. But nothing happened. The stone remained dark, its energy unyielding. He saw the flicker of frustration in Aralyn's eyes, the slight tremor in her hand as she realized her spell hadn't worked.

She tried again, her voice carrying through the ballroom, each word laced with determination:

" With blood of mine, I cleanse this stone,

Let the curse be overthrown.

In darkness bound, let light now shine,

Undo the ties that intertwine ."

Still, the stone refused to yield. Caldric's heart sank as he saw the doubt creeping into Aralyn's expression. The surrounding vampires murmured, their confidence in her faltering. But Caldric knew Aralyn—she wouldn't give up, not now.

She cut her hand again, more blood dripping onto the stone's surface, her frustration palpable as she recited another incantation:

" By the power in this blood I spill,

Break the curse, release the will.

Let no more darkness hold this place,

Free the souls, give them grace ."

The room remained silent, the Myasma Stone unmoved. Caldric's hands clenched into fists, wanting to rush to her, to help her, but knowing that this was something only she could do.

Aralyn's frustration reached a boiling point. He saw her jaw clench as she muttered something under her breath, something simple, direct, and filled with raw emotion. "Just break already," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Let them go."

For a heartbeat, the room was deathly still. Then, suddenly, the air seemed to shudder, a low hum reverberating through the ballroom. Caldric's eyes widened as he watched the Myasma Stone begin to glow, the dark energy within it swirling faster, more erratically. Cracks formed along its surface, spreading like veins of lightning.

The vampires around them gasped, stepping back as the stone's energy grew unstable. Caldric's breath caught in his throat as the cracks deepened, and with a deafening crack, the Myasma Stone shattered, sending a shockwave through the room.

And then it was gone. Taking Perdita Beaufort's curses with it.

Caldric could hardly believe what he was seeing. What he was feeling! A rush of love for his vampire hunter filled his heart, threatening to consume him.

And he'd let it. For he loved her. And desired her. And admired her. And sometimes found her so annoying he could spit!

The curse was broken. Aralyn had done it.

He rushed toward her as she stood there, staring at the shattered remains of the stone, her hand still bleeding but her expression one of stunned disbelief.

"You did it," Caldric whispered, his voice filled with emotion as he took her hand in his, gently wiping away the blood. "You broke the curse. You broke all the curses!"

Aralyn looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with something between relief and exhaustion. "And I thought vampires were strange," she murmured, her voice shaky. "No offense," she said to those gathered around.

But no one was paying any attention as the orchestra struck up a merry tune and everyone began to dance as if they had been possessed by The Fabled themselves.

"Shall we?" He offered her his arm, wanting her to enjoy this moment. For it was hers, as well as theirs.

"Wait." She held out her left hand. "I should give this back to you. I don't want to lose it."

"And I don't want it back," Caldric told her. "It was no fake proposal. I love you. I knew it then." He placed his hand over his heart. "And I know it now."

"I love you, too," she said, and flung her arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely.

Everything he felt for Aralyn came rushing in. And he welcomed it. Rejoiced in it.

No matter the pain the future might hold. He would not trade it for the present and his vampire wife-to-be.