Ah, yes, their warring and issues no one was talking to Diana about. "I'll make you something. I'm sure there are other suitable trees."
Chloe giggled. "Don't, honestly. I was just being spoiled. Levi woke me up with Champagne and gave me a parure." She winced. "I probably butchered that word. That's a box with pretty things inside. A necklace, earrings, a tiara. Where would I even wear a tiara? Anyway, I like it. Tons. It's so shiny."
The tiara wasn't the only shiny thing: so were Chloe's eyes. Mikar frowned as he noticed it. Diana could see him trying to understand why she seemed so emotional all of a sudden. She was fairly certain that if the woman started crying, he was going to lose it.
Diana decided to intervene. If Chloe hadn't yet told anyone she was pregnant, it was her business. "Well, I don't have any present to give you, and I like celebrating birthdays. I'll make you a chair or two. It's no bother.” To Mikar, she said, "Can you find another tree?"
He hesitated a moment, his concern etched in his frown, but stalked away.
"He's very protective," Diana stated, without intonation.
Protective didn't cut it. Mikar's entire life seemed to be dedicated to being Chloe's shield. One of the reasons why it was a good thing that he and she hadn't gotten into anymore dalliances after that…
Diana wouldn't have taken well to being relegated to second place by a man she liked. Not that she liked him. At all.
Feeling her cheeks flush, she refocused her attention on Chloe, who nodded, wiping a tear away.
"Too much, sometimes. I think it has to do with what happened when I was first turned. He hasn't said anything, but Levi told me he was off duty—Ruby was watching me—when a bunch of ferals and some ancients came to Oldcrest to kill me. I had to be turned in a hurry, and I almost didn't make it. I wouldn't have, if it hadn't been for Eirikr."
Her eyes flew open. "Eirikr? Isn't he in his cave?" That was the most surprising thing out of the lot, to her.
Chloe smiled. "Yes, on Cosnoc. I went there to hide. Something was telling me that place was…that it could be safer than anywhere else. And I was right. He protected me, gave me his blood so I could transition. He even told me my blood could cure ferals. I was able to save one of my friends that way."
All of that was news to Diana. She took it in, fairly confused. "But isn't he…you know. Insane?"
Chloe didn't seem offended. "A little, maybe. But so would I be, if I spent all these years in a cave. For what it's worth, Eirikr is family. He's been good to me. Better than my own father, for sure. And well…I think he's a lot more complicated than what the rumors suggest."
Diana took a moment to think things through. "Like you," she said, finally.
Chloe looked up at her, questioning.
"Outside of Oldcrest, the rumors aren't exactly to your favor.” Diana remembered Juniper’s account of what was going on here. “And well, it's true. You are strong and faster than any vampire your age should be. You'll only grow in power as times goes by. You could grow to become everything they fear—a tyrant who seeks to rule over vampirekind. People aren't completely wrong to fear you." She swallowed. "But it's not that simple. You're not a monster. You're just…a woman. Protective of your friends, your family."
Chloe would make a good mother, too, Diana thought. She didn't say so out loud, as there were several witches and vampires around them, setting candles on all the tables and around the pyre. At least half of them had a sense of hearing acute enough to distinguish everything they were saying, if they were paying attention.
"I like you, Chloe Eirikrson," Diana stated. "I didn't think I would at all, but I do."
"Good. I like you right back." She grinned broadly. "And I want you to know...I appreciate your discretion." Her voice dropped to a whisper that some would still catch. "I'm going to tell him. Levi. Tonight. I needed time to wrap my mind around...everything. But I'm happy."
Diana could see that.
Mikar soon arrived with Chloe's tree—an ash that looked sturdy. It had a slight reddish tone. Diana didn't need to think this time. A rocking chair, and a baby’s cot.
"Where do you want it?"
"Here, give it to me," she said. "It's almost twilight. I'd better bathe and get changed. I'll work on it tomorrow."
She left the valley, carrying the tree to her home, smiling on her way up the hill.
It had been too long since her last Samhain bonfire. Tonight was going to be fun.
Volunteer
Though Mikar's guard duty around Chloe ended at dawn, Sylvan, who knew how fond of parties he was, came to relieve him.
"I owe you." The beat of the music, the scent of the wine, had been getting to him.
The other slayer shook his head. "Don't sweat it, you've taken plenty of shifts for me."
That was true. Mikar had often offered to work for Sylvan or Ruby. Part of him was uneasy when he left Chloe to someone else's care. He liked Chloe, but more than that, he believed in her. Believed that their little world here in Oldcrest was a better place with her in it.
He rushed home to grab a Venetian mask, as everyone else had put one on, and returned as fast as he could.
Mikar made a beeline for the wine bar, glad to see Helsing had generously contributed with a couple of barrels of decent wine. He poured himself a generous glass, and turned to the pyre, where the crowd had started to dance.
He scanned the hundreds of people gathered near the unlit heap of wood.
The birthday girl was in Levi's arms. Blair, hands in the air, eyes closed, swayed with the drums, her dark hair—streaked purple, at the moment—flowing behind her. She was more sensual than Mikar would have thought possible. Until now, he'd always seen the witch as a fighter, more than anything else. Tonight, she felt like a witch, giving her energy to whatever gods she celebrated. Greer and Gwen danced together in circles, turning more than a few heads. All dressed in white, the witches and wizards had lost some of their civilized demeanor as they embraced their magic without shame.
Mikar didn't spare anyone more than a glance, searching for one pair of dark eyes, in vain. Which meant that Diana wasn't here. He would have found her immediately if she had been, given how addicted he was to her scent.
He felt her the moment she arrived. She too had donned the color of death, as everyone used to do on Samhain in the old days, and she wore a metal eye mask ending in curved horns. No mask would have stopped him from recognizing her fragrance, her eyes, her delectable mouth.
He watched Diana search the crowd for familiar faces. There were three to four hundred students and staff in the Institute, perhaps another hundred Adairford residents, and the few who lived on the hill. He realized that Diana knew less than two dozen people here. She spotted her brother and Avani first, her gaze stopping in their direction, but soon, she grimaced, opting against joining them. No wonder: the couple were practically dry humping each other on one of her benches.
Mikar saw her step toward Blair. Before she'd made it too far, a streak of lightning zapped the ground at Blair's feet, and a smirking man materialized right in front of her. Blair's eyes fluttered open, then she gaped. Before she had time to formulate a word, Seth Stormhale clasped one of her hands and wrapped his free arm around her waist, before leading her into a village reel. Surprisingly, Blair let him.
Mikar circled the pyre, stopping only to pour himself another glass of wine, eyes never leaving Diana. He watched her join Gwen and Greer, taking their hands and following their dance intuitively. Part of him wanted to go to her, with all the shameless confidence of a Stormhale, but another part said his place was here, from a distance, where he could best watch her. Protect her.
Only, Diana was the strongest woman here, or close to it. She didn’t need protecting. And suddenly he was tired—so very tired—of denying himself some proximity to her. His intention to let her come to him hadn’t worked out for almost two months. Time to try something else.
He crossed to the other side of the pyre. The moment he reached her, she let go of the witches' hands, breaking their circle, and twirled on her tiptoes to face him.
Her expression was all defiance, daring. "What?" she challenged, glaring, as though she expected a battle of wits.
He supposed that was fair. They never talked without breaking into an argument.
Talking was overrated.
He wanted to encircle her waist, letting his hands take in the heat of her curves. He knew better.
Mikar lifted his palms between them, leaving them parallel to her, in an open invitation. She could snort and go away. Or she could finally, finally give in.
He watched in wonder as her hands rose to eye level, her soft fingers resting right against his, so lightly they almost weren’t touching.
She’d said yes. He was too stunned to do anything but stare in wonder. Then he broke into a grin. And he danced.
He danced with her like he would have back when she'd been mortal, so many years ago, had she not been too frail to attend any ball, keeping her at a distance, and yet so close. His feet could easily remember the old folks’ way, and so did hers. Soon, they were both laughing, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As though they should have smiled to each other all along. Her entire face beamed, making her seem more striking than ever. So much so, she was almost painful to look at.
He could have danced with her until the end of time, if the world had let them.
After darkness fell, Chloe called Diana to help light the pyre.
Mikar had never disliked Chloe quite so much. He reluctantly stepped away from Diana, feeling cold the moment the spell between them broke.
It had been a while since he'd felt cold. Not since his last night as a mortal, probably. But the knowledge that he'd be close to her again very soon was enough to temporarily soothe him.
He'd claim her hand later. He had to. He was done with the distance, done with the silly notion that he should wait on her. Mikar realized his decision to let her come to him had been inherently flawed. Yes, she was a strong, powerful creature, used to running the show. Yes, she was a modern woman in boots, who mostly wore jeans and had adapted to all forms of technology.