Zombies Sold Separately (17 page)

“Down the rabbit hole, I always thought.” She started swinging her legs, too, her purple-slippered feet peeking out from beneath her dress. “I found out much later, after we were married, that your father had seen me in a vision. He had the Seer locate me and then your father used the transference to bring me here.

“One day I was walking to my first class my freshman year at NYU,” she said, “and the next I found myself aboveground in Otherworld where it was night. I met him in the forest with only moonlight to see him by.”

“I’ve never heard the whole story,” I said. “Didn’t you feel manipulated?”

“It was romantic, exciting, new.” She smiled. “He was so handsome and strong. Intelligent, powerful. I fell for him the first night I met him.”

“The blue hair and blue skin thing didn’t freak you out?” I said.

Mother tilted her head to the side. “It was dark, so the first few nights I thought it was just a trick of the shadows in the forest. Each night he sent me home and then brought me to him again the next night. Night here, not in the Earth Otherworld. So it was like being in the night all of the time.”

“And you just went with it?” I said.

“I was young and rebellious.” She looked at me. “I’d spent my entire life as an orphan in foster care and I wasn’t your average eighteen-year-old.”

“You must not have been average,” I said, “to have left behind everything you had and knew for a life here.”

“It took some getting used to, but I was so in love with your father…” She sighed, a happy sigh. “I still am.”

“What about all you left behind?” I said. “You didn’t have family, but what about friends?”

“Because I was moved around so much, I never had a chance to develop many close relationships,” she said. “And your father was worth everything that I did give up.”

“You are amazing, Mother.” I looked at her. “You came from a world where you were an independent young woman to the medieval male-dominated world of the Dark Elves.”

“Nothing amazing about that,” she said. “I was in love with your father.” She raised her hand, only her pinky finger lifted up. “And I had him wrapped around here long before you had him wrapped around your little finger.” It was almost as if she had read my thoughts earlier.

“You sure did.” I shook my head. “Although I can picture the kind of reception you got as a new human queen who refused to be submissive.”

“I submitted to your father, Nyx,” she said, suddenly looking serious. “But it’s not about doing things against my will. He honors and loves me. It’s easy to want to please him. He has always treated me like a queen. And I treat him like a king. It’s why we still love each other and why we are still happily married after all these years.”

I thought about her and my father for a few moments. “I went to a reception with Adam and met his family yesterday,” I said. “His family was nice, but it was so hard evading their questions and not being able to tell them the truth about me.”

“I understand.” Mother squeezed my knee with her hand. I’d forgotten it was there. “Don’t let that hold you back in your relationship. Don’t shy away from it and don’t fight your feelings. There are no rights and no wrongs in love if it is love. It is what it is.”

“No rights and no wrongs?” I said. “What about abusive males and females?”

She stared at the fireplace. “Not every man is meant to be a lover, a husband, a father. Just like not every woman is meant to be a lover, a wife, a mother.” She turned her gaze to me. “I believe they have some need they want fulfilled and they can’t figure out what that is. The people they harm…”

This time when she looked away I thought there might be a tear in her eye. “That child or adult doesn’t fill the need of their abuser so the abuser’s internal pain is taken out on the one they supposedly love.” She still didn’t look at me as she added, “A person like that doesn’t know what real love is.”

I felt a deep sadness for the girl my mother had been as I placed my hand over hers. “You’ve never talked with me about your life growing up in foster care.”

“Like most abused children, it’s not something we like to talk about,” she said.

“I’m sorry. I leaned my head on her shoulder. “I had it so good growing up and I know that.” I gripped her hand. “I love you and Father so much. Even though I don’t come home often, I miss you.”

“I know.” Mother kissed the top of my head. “I don’t have to tell you, though, to keep standing up to your father and live your life. Not the life he wants you to lead.”

I raised my head and smiled at my mother. “Maybe one of these days he’ll ‘get it.’”

Mother laughed. “Not likely.”

FIFTEEN

Supper was held in the huge banquet hall with my mother, father, and about twenty of his closest advisors, the highest ranking warriors, my uncle, and my step-uncle—the brother of my father’s previous wife. My father sat at the head of the table with me on his left, Mother on his right.

“You look lovely, my princess,” Father said as he smiled at me. “You and your mother have always been the most beautiful females in the realm.”

I smiled back. “Thank you, Father.”

Because I knew it would make my father happy, I wore a velvety soft gown in royal blue as well as a circlet on my head. The circlet was simple, made of the same metal as my collar, but it had Drow-mined sapphires and diamonds on it that sparkled in the torchlight. I was still human, but I had a couple of hours before I’d have to excuse myself to transform to Drow.

Father squeezed Mother’s hand on top of the table and she gave him a radiant look. She had changed into a crimson gown, her blond hair pulled back beneath her delicate crown. She looked beautiful and regal, every bit the queen she was.

My father was a powerful male with a commanding presence and few would dare to question or argue with him. Rodán had been one of those few, for which I’d always be grateful. Rodán was the reason I had ended up in New York City as a Night Tracker.

“You look quite handsome, Father,” I said.

Tonight he wore jewel-encrusted chest straps over his muscular chest and he had on leather wrist bands. The jewel-makers had studded his crown with precious gems. The crown rested on his long, wavy blue hair that was almost the same shade of sapphire as my eyes.

“To my daughter’s homecoming.” Father spoke in Drow as he raised his tankard of ale and everyone around the table did, too.

“To the princess,” they responded in unison before taking huge swallows of the ale. Most of them said it without looking at me.

After the toast, for the most part I was ignored by everyone at the table—all males with the exception of my mother. I’d been used to it before I left for Otherworld, but now it had a sting to it, like Rhain’s intentional dismissal of me had earlier.

The only males who paid any attention to me were my uncle, Simon, and my step-uncle, Garf. I’d always liked Simon, but Garf was nothing but a lecher who’d love to take my father’s crown. He despised my mother even though he kissed up to her in front of my father.

Because my brother was gone, Simon was next in line for the throne. Garf was in line after Simon—but only if Garf married me.

As if.

The thought made me ill.

Garf and I weren’t blood-related, but it still creeped me out. Truth was that everything about Garf made my stomach churn. If Father had known the lecherous way Garf looked at me, starting when I was eighteen, he probably would have had my step-uncle’s head cut off. That really would have been for the best.

“Have you enjoyed your time in the Earth Otherworld?” Simon asked me as he broke of a hunk of bread.

After he handed me a too-large piece, I said, “Yes, Uncle.” I reached for the freshly churned butter—it was so good on hot, homemade bread. “I love it there. But it is nice to be home. For a visit.”

My uncle Simon and I made some conversation, but most of the meal I talked with my mother and father, asking them about what they’d been doing, and they asked me questions in return. My father was gruff, but he managed to not bellow out anything about me staying in the Drow Realm and never returning to New York City.

Dinner was a traditional celebratory three-course meal of roast chicken and a whole roasted pig, nuts, cheeses, fruits, and crisp vegetables. Dark Elves bartered with Light Elves for most of our food because it grew, was made, or was raised aboveground.

“Yum,” I said in English as my favorite dessert was brought out by servers. Egg custard tart. “Thank you,” I said in Drow as I looked from my father to my mother. “This is all wonderful.”

For my parents, the celebration was having me at home. For everyone else it was an excuse to drink my father’s best ale and to eat until they couldn’t stuff themselves anymore.

After I finished my tart, I said, “I have important questions for you, Father.” I kept my voice low and spoke in English, a language few at the table would understand. I had intentionally waited until now to ask the questions that I needed to.

“Ask.” He bit into his third tart.

“It might be better somewhere else,” I said. “I want to talk with you about Tristan and what happened to him.” Even as quietly as I had spoken, several of the males at the table looked at me when I said my brother’s name.

My father stopped in mid-chew. Without looking at me, he set his unfinished tart on his plate, picked up a wet piece of cloth and began wiping his fingers. “That topic is not open for discussion.”

The way he said it made my stomach twist. A combination of anger and pain, and matter-of-factness.

I place my fingers on his arm. They looked so pale against the blue of his skin. “It’s not only about my brother.” Pain flashed in my father’s eyes. “I need to speak with you about them, the Zom—”

“Enough.”
I don’t think my father had intended to speak so loudly or harshly, but he captured everyone’s attention at the table.

I felt warmth in my face and met my mother’s eyes. She looked apologetic.

He cleared his throat and in Drow said, “I am finished here. I have work to attend to.” He looked to Simon and Garf. “Come, we have business to discuss.”

We all stood as my father did. My stomach hurt as I set my napkin in my plate and my father left with Simon and Garf. Mother came to me and we walked out of the chamber together. I had to think of a way to get my father to listen to me.

“Talking about Tristan brings great pain to your father,” Mother said as we reached the archway leading from the banquet chamber.

“Why won’t he talk about it?” I asked, then suddenly knew the reason before she gave it. For much the same reason my five-year-old mind blocked the memories away.

My mother and I entered the great hall. It was circular with several archways leading from it. “Your father blamed himself for the loss of his son.” She looked toward the throne room which also served as a high-level conference room for my father. “He has never forgiven himself.”

“That’s why I couldn’t talk about Tristan, too.” I met my mother’s gaze. “I felt so helpless when I saw it happen. If only I’d been older, stronger.”

“You couldn’t have done anything to save your brother.” My mother had the kind of concern on her face that a parent has for a child she almost lost. She came to a stop and hugged me. “You could have died or vanished too, Nyx. That is more pain than any parent should have to bear.”

I returned her hug and felt her warm tears on my shoulder, through the material of my gown.

She touched my face and her tears glistened in her eyes that were the same sapphire blue as my own. “It is what your father faced and probably why he is so protective over you. If he lost you … If I lost you…”

“You won’t.” I kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry. Please.”

She tried to guide us diagonally from the banquet room to the hallway that led to our chambers, but I wouldn’t let her.

“Whatever we need to do to get Father’s attention,” I said, “we have to do it.”

“What’s wrong?” She brushed away a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.

I took a deep breath. “What happened here … what happened to Tristan … it’s happening in the Earth Otherworld now.”

Mother grasped me by my upper arms. Her eyes were wide. “Are you serious?”

I nodded. “The same as here, at least what I can remember since I was so young.” I started to pull away to go find my father.

“Ciar needs to know this at once.” She looked toward the throne room. She brought her gaze back to me. “But I need to get his attention. I’m the only one who can get away with interrupting him without him losing face in front of his men.”

I stared toward the throne room. “You’re right, of course.”

She released my upper arms, patted her eyes dry, and straightened her spine. “Go to our chambers and wait for us in the sitting room.”

“Okay.” I kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Mother kissed me back. “Go on now. Your father and I will be there in a few moments.”

I had no doubt that my mother would succeed in getting my father’s attention. I should have gone through her to begin with.

While I waited our conversation haunted me. I’d thought I couldn’t talk about my brother because of the pain of his disappearance and probable death. But it had been more than that. I had blamed myself from the beginning.