"Melissande," I said, setting down my cup and leveling a serious gaze at her. "You hired me to translate the inscription scribed on the inside of an early-fourteenth-century breastplate that has, until this date, remained firmly in the realm of the mythical. You sucked me in with a description and photos of the armor that were so tantalizing, I had no choice but to agree to your offer. I assume you brought me here because you wanted someone who is familiar with obscure European languages, but I'm beginning to feel that you have another purpose in bringing me halfway around the world. I would appreciate it if you would tell me just what that purpose is."
She nodded. "A very reasonable request. I applaud both your frankness and your efficiency in going straight to the point. Quite simply, you are a Charmer, and I need your assistance to locate my nephew and brother."
I froze, ice forming in my blood at the word that had so harmlessly tripped off her tongue. Charmer. It was a word I hadn't heard in almost ten years. Ten long years. I swallowed back a sudden lump in my throat, my voice suddenly hoarse. "I assume by Charmer you aren't referring to my excellent people skills?"
"No," she said, her eyes serious. "I mean one who has the ability to draw Charms. You are a Charmer. You were born a Charmer, although I understand that you have not used your abilities after an accident during your college years—"
I put a hand out to stop her, blind with sudden grief, a band of pain tight around my chest as I struggled for air.
"I beg your pardon, Nell. That was an unfortunate reference, but it has relevance to the situation."
I shook my head to clear my vision, the memory of the dead, unseeing eyes of my friend slowly dissolving into bright silver-gray eyes subtly highlighted with expensive cosmetics, eyes that were watching me closely. "I am not a Charmer," I said carefully, my voice thick with emotion that I would not acknowledge.
She sighed, her gaze dropping for a moment to her hands as they rested on her legs. "I have a nephew named Damian. He is ten years old, and very dear to me, although I've been accused of spoiling him shamelessly. He was kidnapped three weeks ago. My brother Saer was away at the time, but as soon as he heard of the terrible event, he raced home and began to track Damian. Five nights ago he called me from a small town in the Moravian Highlands to tell me that he had found a clue to Damian's whereabouts. He believed the boy had been taken to England. Saer left immediately, and I have not heard from him since. I believe he, too, is being held prisoner, quite probably by the same being who is holding Damian. That or… another."
The pain in her eyes was not counterfeit, nor did I think she was mad. At least, I believed that she believed what she was telling me.
"I'm very sorry," I said sincerely. "Have you contacted the police?"
"Police?" She looked startled for a moment, then shook her head. "No, the police cannot help me. My brother and nephew are beyond their reach."
"I'm sorry," I said again, spreading my hands wide. "I wish I could help you, but I'm no detective, and certainly no expert in tracking people—"
"I do not expect you to find them for me," she interrupted.
"Then what—"
"You are a Charmer. The aid I seek from you—the aid I need—lies in your ability to charm."
"I don't… I can't…" The pain swamping me was so great I could hardly breathe, let alone speak.
"My brother and nephew are Dark Ones," she said, taking a deep breath. "Moravian Dark Ones. I, too, am Moravian. Do you know what that means?"
I shook my head, too confused and distraught to think.
"Dark Ones have walked the earth all the ages of man, alike, but separate. Vampires some call us, although truly my people are not evil, not the horrible creatures common lore makes us out to be. Dark Ones are created either by a demon lord, or they are born to a father who is unredeemed."
"Unredeemed?" I croaked, wondering if it was too late to change my name to Alice and settle down to a happy life of insanity in Wonderland.
"To each male Dark One there is one woman, his Beloved, who can redeem his soul. Those who remain unredeemed are forever damned."
I opened my mouth to say that sounded like something out of a novel, but stopped. There was no use in agitating her further by pointing out that vampires—damned or not—were fantastical creatures that didn't exist.
Just like imps, a sardonic voice in my head pointed out.
I refused to think about that. "Let me just make sure I have this right—your brother and nephew are vampires, and you're one too; you drink people's blood to survive, but you're not bad or evil or anything out of a John Carpenter movie. Is that right so far?"
She nodded. "There is more to being a Moravian than blood drinking, but since we don't have time to go into the history of my people, we will suffice with the bare minimum."
"Just out of curiosity—how old are you?" I asked. "Since vampires are traditionally held to be immortal and all, I assume you're immortal as well?"
"Only so long as I do not give my heart to a mortal, yes. I was born in 1761."
I did a quick round of mental subtraction. "That would make you two hundred and forty-four."
"Forty-three. My birthday isn't until December."
"Ah," I said, then sat back and waited for the rest of the fairy tale to unfold. "Go on, please. I'm all ears."
She didn't like the note of subdued sarcasm in my voice, but it didn't stop her from telling me the rest. "My nephew is being held by a demon lord by the name of Asmodeus."
I had a better grip on myself now, so the name didn't freeze me into a block of ice, despite the boundless well of sorrow within me.
"I won't insult you by asking if you are aware of Asmodeus, since I know it was one of Asmodeus's curses you were attempting to charm when you…" Her gaze fluttered to the left side of my face where the skin was less taut than the right side. I didn't flinch under her inspection, having learned long ago that if I kept my face immobile, most people didn't notice the slight slackness on the one side."… had your accident."
"What I had was no accident," I said slowly, enunciating carefully.
She offered no reaction to that statement. "My nephew and quite likely my brother are being held by Asmodeus, bound to the demon lord by his curse. I need your help, Nell. I need you to charm the curse."
"I don't know what you're talking about. Even if I did, there's no way I can help you," I said quietly, squelching down the feelings of pain and dread and horror that arose with her words.
She gave me a long look. "I can understand your reluctance to regain a part of your life that I'm sure you thought lost, but you cannot deny the truth of what you are, Nell. You are a Charmer. Most of your kind learn their skills from mages and Guardians, and thus they can only undraw wards and perform simple protective charms, but you were born a Charmer. You are different. You can unmake curses."
"I cannot charm. I never could. I left that all behind me ten years ago." Despite my best intentions to remain calm and collected, my voice rose with each word.
Her eyes glittered brightly at me, so brightly it hurt to look into them. I was vaguely aware that she was weaving a spell of compliance with her words, but I would not fall victim to it. I gritted my teeth as her voice, silken with persuasion, rolled around me. "You are one of the few people who have the power to unmake the most powerful bond known to mankind—a demon lord's curse."
"I will not charm," I ground out through my teeth, anger and fear forcing me to admit something I had worked hard to forget. "Not again!"
"If you do not help me, my nephew will be consumed by the demon lord. Do you know what happens to a Dark One who is thus destroyed?"
I shook my head, sick at heart with the knowledge of what she would tell me. Long-denied memories of a time years in the past tormented me. I wanted to shout to Melissande that it was so long ago, when I was young and innocent, and I believed what I had been told. I was special. I could make a difference. It was all so clear then, so exciting, so easy… until Beth died.
"His life force joins with the demon lord. In effect, he becomes him, one of the princes of hell. I would move heaven and earth to save my nephew from that fate, Nell, and all I'm asking of you is your help in bringing Damian home to me."
I shook my head again, blindly reaching for my bag as I stood. "I'm very sorry for you, Melissande. I wish there was something I could do, I truly do wish it, but what you ask is impossible. I can't do it."
"You mean you will not!" The words stung me with the force of a whip. Her eyes were molten silver, glowing hot with fury as she stood facing me. "You have it within your power to help, and you deny me!"
Anger, hot and deep such as I had not known for a very long time, burned in my soul, welling up to overwhelm the guilt that had bound me for so many years. "Do you know what happened the one time I attempted to charm one of Asmodeus's curses? Do you know the exact details of what happened?"
"No, not the details," she answered, her eyes once again moving to the left side of my face, down to my left arm. "It is said the charm backfired, that some trap laid by Asmodeus was triggered when you attempted to unmake it, and both you and a companion were injured."