"What do you think of the bite?" Flavio asked after getting Roff settled into a chair and offering him a bottle of blood substitute. Lucas had left shortly after the lesson was over.
"The climax was pleasurable, the kiss was not." Roff drank from his bottle.
"I understand. You should have seen the one who bit me the first time," Flavio grimaced. "He was ancient and not so gentle. Father and I had an argument about it later, when I was older."
"May I go to the winery now?"
"I will come with you." Flavio smiled at his vampire child.
"But I was going to fly, Father, and you hate it when I take you flying."
"Child, it is frightening to be held aloft like that. I will take myself and meet you there."
"Good." Roff laughed at his sire and headed for the door.
* * *
"Little girl, what are you doing here instead of going home? They are worried sick about you."
I'd found Weldon sitting in front of the home he shared with Fox, Wlodek and Fox's other mates. Most of them were elsewhere, thankfully.
"I just wanted to see you, that's all," I said. "And ask you a question."
Weldon blinked at me for a moment and then sighed. "I may know what you're going to ask, but go ahead."
"Why did some of the werewolves remember me?"
"I'm not sure, Lissa. But they remembered, even if the others didn't. Daryl and I mentioned you a time or two, but most had no recollection. Winkler was the one who argued your case hardest, but convincing the vampires was like talking to a block of concrete. He backed off after a while and never said your name again. The vamps thought you were dead in the beginning, and then the memories were stripped away. Come on, I have something to show you." Weldon heaved himself off the bench, the space between the bench and the table was a little tight for his large frame.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Probably right back where you came from," Weldon replied and folded me away.
"I didn't come here; I just went to Winkler's funeral." I was staring at Winkler's old mansion—it looked as if it had been rebuilt.
"I didn't bring you to see the house; I brought you to see what's next door." Weldon pointed me in the other direction.
"This is where the house was that Winkler bought for me," I whispered.
"Yes, and he razed it to the ground twenty-five years after he was told you were dead. He had this park put up instead." We walked through trees over the four-acre tract. I heard water splashing and when we walked past the outer ring of oaks and maples, I saw the fountain. Sitting in the center of the fountain, up high, with the water dripping off it, was something that looked like the peak of a roof with someone sitting on top of it.
"It's you," Weldon said softly and led me to the edge of the fountain. It was me; doing my best roof sitting, my knees drawn up to my chest. The fountain had been designed so the water would run down the slope of the roof and drop into the pool below.
"I understand Winkler built this for the neighborhood kids and they'd come and play while he'd sit on a bench and watch them, right over there." Weldon put an arm around my shoulders and led me to the bench. We sat down.
"I miss him," I said, trying not to cry.
"I know. It's not the same, is it?"
"No." I shook my head, willing the tears not to fall. "And now Roff doesn't remember me."
"How did you find out about that? Have you sneaked back and then left again?"
"No. I can know things, too, Weldon, if I want to." I wiped away the tear that fell.
"Kiarra says that we don't fully understand what you are, Lissa. That now you help balance the worlds of light with the worlds of the Dark Realm. That the mix that you are is bringing everything back to what it should be."
"And it's forever, Weldon. I had to make that agreement, to be able to do what I did on the High Demons' world. I can't walk away from it or sleep for a hundred thousand years. If Shala had succeeded in staking me, my physical body may have died but my energy existence would have survived. I don't know how long I can do this without going crazy."
"Lissa, we'll help you," Weldon put his arm around me.
"I know. Weldon, I miss my wolf. I never told him how much I really loved him, even if he did pick up strange women in bars or stupid Kellee on a night of the full moon. I was afraid to go to bed with him, because of Gavin. Now he's gone and I won't ever get him back."
"I know, baby," Weldon held me tighter.
"I'm thinking about going to look for a world where the conditions are primitive and there are plenty of werewolves," I attempted to straighten myself up. "I want to move them to Harifa Edus, if they want to go."
"Then I may have a suggestion," Weldon smiled at me.
* * *
"You know, I always wondered at your unnatural fondness for flannel," I teased Weldon. He wore a flannel shirt but it was open, and he had a white T-shirt on under it.
"Come on, we have to go talk to some werewolves. There's no time to discuss my clothing habits." Weldon was pulling me along.
We were in the middle of nowhere. Definitely in the middle of a forest, but then what did I know? I followed Weldon, getting slapped in the face more often than not with stray tree limbs and low-hanging branches. When we came out of the trees, we found a clearing with plenty of log homes spaced close together. I imagined that they'd all been hastily built, their residents clustered together for protection. The smell of werewolf was everywhere. "What is it with you guys and log homes?" I hissed at Weldon.
"Shhh," Weldon said and kept going.
"Weldon?" A werewolf stepped out of his log home. He was dressed worse than Weldon, I noticed—his shirt was homespun and dyed in gaudier colors. He wore rough boots that looked as if they'd been made centuries ago and his hair was long and unevenly cut—as if he'd done the cutting himself. Everything about him spoke of a hard life.
"Mace, this is Lissa," Weldon brought me forward.
"I can't smell her, but she's not a werewolf. I'd know."
"No, not a werewolf," I shook my head.
"Lissa's here to make an offer," Weldon said. "But first you have to tell her why you'd like to live anywhere but here."
"I can show you easier," he said and cursed softly. Weldon and I followed him. Other werewolves were stepping warily from more log homes, some coming our way, others standing and watching. I figured they recognized Weldon but not me and they were wary.