A Shade of Vampire 43: A House of Mysteries(55)

As my body yearned for sleep and I tried to fight it, I felt an urge to lean my head on his broad shoulders—to close my eyes and lie against him in comfort, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt. I pinched myself on the back of my hand, trying to stay awake. It would not be comfortable to lean against the Druid—it would be downright weird.

Without warning, the flame stuttered and went out.

“They’re coming,” Draven whispered, standing. The rest of us followed his lead, all jolting out of our drowsy stillness. My heart began to race, half terrified at what was heading our way.

Draven reached down and gently squeezed my hand. I squeezed it back slightly, grateful for the gesture, then drew away. His face didn’t betray any reaction to me, he just stared ahead, waiting for the Daughters to arrive.

They came at once, seven women suddenly appearing out of thin air. I held my breath, stunned first and foremost at their awe-inspiring and yet violent beauty. Their skin looked like it was painted in gold, and they were dressed in linens, the material wrapped and draped like Grecian goddesses’. Their hair was long and wild, some of it braided in intricate fashions, entwined with gold beads and jewels. Around their ankles, necks and arms they wore more gold, chains and amulets, large stones held together with long ropes of gold chain that looked as if they were impossibly heavy. Their faces were entirely covered by golden masks, and only their eyes could be seen, peering out at us, each of them a startling, violet-purple color I’d never seen on any other being before, supernatural or otherwise.

One of them stepped forward, breaking the line. She had brilliant red and orange hair—the color of flames or a sunset. It trailed down her back, and as the breeze continued to move over us, her hair wrapped itself around her arms, giving the impression that it had a life of its own. These women didn’t look like supernatural creatures to me—they looked like goddesses, completely removed from the earth and anything concretely real.

“Druid, why have you disturbed us? We have helped you already, enough for many lifetimes. Do you think the Daughters of Eritopia are at your service?” Her voice was deep, resonating around us so that I could hear the hum of her voice in my veins long after she finished the last word.

I heard Draven exhale a low breath beside me, and then he bowed.

“Forgive us. We were sent by an Oracle. She told us to visit you. My home may no longer be safe, and the boy”—he gestured toward Phoenix—“has had a vision of the tree and the egg.”

“Are you sure?” the redhead asked. The rest of the Daughters didn’t move, but something had changed. There was now a perceptible tension in the air, as if the rest of them held their breath. This news obviously was important—but what was important to the Daughters about my Oracle brother having these visions, I didn’t understand… Wasn’t he supposed to only see the past, anyway? How could they find that so significant?

“I am sure,” Draven replied.

Simultaneously, all of them, in one motion, turned to face my brother. They stood in silence, watching him with their strange eyes. My brother swallowed, looking deeply uncomfortable.

After a while, the redhead turned back to Draven.

“The Oracle was wrong to send you here,” she said. “We can do nothing for you, and we will do nothing for you, until the last Daughter of Eritopia rises. She alone will help you end the reign of Azazel.”

“It will be too late!” Draven retorted angrily.

I drew in sharply, worried that he’d raised his voice—I doubted it would take much to rile these women up—but they started to laugh.

“Then you will have failed,” they replied in unison.

“But that is not our concern,” the redhead continued. “We have already done what you asked of us. And you were warned then not to return.”

“I have paid the price, and continue to pay the price for your help,” Draven countered, his tone becoming clipped and angry. “The last Daughter is safe and remains safe! So long as you help us!”

“But I wonder for how long she will remain undisturbed?” This time the voice didn’t come from the redhead, but from one of the other Daughters. Another stepped forward, moving toward Phoenix. She had black hair, almost reaching the floor. Small braids covered it from the center of her parting, each adorned with a thin chain and bright blue stones inlaid into the gold at various intervals.

My brother didn’t move, but the Daughter reached out her hand and ran one finger down his cheek. Phoenix gasped, clutching the skin where she’d just touched him as if in pain.

“If you’re going to remain unhelpful, then we will leave,” Draven growled. The black-haired Daughter turned to him. Immediately all the Daughters looked hostile. I shrank back, wishing that the Druid had been more polite, but at the same time I wondered if his outburst had been to distract the black-haired Daughter from my brother.