Chapter Six

The Great-Great Grandmamma

Dinner was a lot more fun than I was used to. For one thing, there was no kiddy table. Damien and Grandmamma had only invited Auntie Annie, her bodyguard (who refused to take a seat), Paul and Tygone, and the umbrean, so everyone sat comfortably at the dining room table. For another, none of the folks at the table were pure human and refused to be confined by human conventions. Children were as welcome, if not more so, than adults into a discussion. At the least we would learn proper etiquette by doing while at the best we would insert a new vantage point. By the same token, we were expected to behave ourselves and there were enough eyes watching to make sure we did. The food was not to be ignored, either.

Grandmamma refused to eat turkey or pork, so we had no roasted turkey or baked ham. However, the venison roast was a wonderful change of pace. One of the Burquet family traditions was a dish I dubbed green slime – whipped cream in lime jelly with fruit chunks throughout. The taste was fine, but the texture left a lot to be desired. I was spared the efforts of gagging that particular dish down this Thanksgiving.

As we waited for our bellies to loosen from the meal so we could enjoy Grandmamma's pumpkin bread, Damien, Grandmamma, and Mr. Stark stepped outside for a "little stroll". Paul helped Tygone and me to clear the table while Auntie Annie and her bodyguard had a private dissention over I-don't-know-what and we three set up a game of gin rummy. With a bare minimum of prodding, we got Auntie Annie to leave her fight and join us. The sun set sometime during our third hand.

Damien and Grandmamma walked back into the house during our sixth hand of gin rummy. Mr. Stark was no where to be seen. Grandmamma walked up to the table and tapped her daughter's shoulder. "Shortly, you are going to have to make a choice, child. You can avoid that choice for a little while by running back to your amerte now or you can make it when Grand-mère arrives."

Both Antoinette and Marco froze. Their stillness was not like a living thing, though more predatory than prey. Most living things splash into stillness. Their hearts beat a frantic rhythm or their bodies coil with the tension of staying still. With Marco, but especially Auntie Ann, it was as if they sank into the stillness like a lead weight that was always suspended on the surface of a viscous pool and simply released. There was no splash, no sudden panic nor snap-to of awareness. The tension in the room rose greatly.

After an infinite pause, Antoinette asked, "And why would Grand-mère violate my amerte's realm so … thoroughly?" Her voice was soft and silken, like high quality rope slithering against itself as it is wound into a noose. I flashed on an image of men hanged by the order of that voice, dangling like some obscene parody of a Christmas ornament while my aunt watched until the first rays of light caressed the bodies, bursting them into flame. The same sense that identified Marco as other and the spirit forms of Grandmamma and the umbrean told me that the images were true images and, more, that these men were the remnants of the last invasion into the Sacramento fife.

"Why would your amerte deny your great-grandma visitation rights?" I asked, trying on my innocent voice. I think Damien was catching on and I was almost positive that that voice didn't fool Grandmamma, but Auntie Ann chose to accept it at face value.

"She is free to make arrangements so long as those arrangements do not include her bound guardians. Grand-père is one of the oldest and Grand-mère is kailen. With the help of those they bound together before, she has bonded lesser lieges and we have no illusions that André is anything but a lesser liege to Grand-père. It would be … typical of such an ancient to assume that by binding André, I would be 'safer' while adding to their roster another city that answers to the ancient. We value our freedom."

"André is not welcome on my property. I forbid any and all invitations to him or to those who serve him, with you and one living guard as the sole exception. You know why, Annie. He values his freedom at the expense of yours. You know the only reasons he allows you to visit us is to keep up appearances of cordiality between old and new and to spy out our knowledge of the preternatural community." Damien's face was bland, his voice carefully neutral, but as he said his next piece, his eyes narrowed and the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood became more distinct.

"This morning you came to my home asking after my daughter. You came speaking of getting to know your niece, but asking all about her magic and not about her. And now, to hear you speak so, I must wonder if you have surrendered your san into the móndav bond and it is not my sister who asks, but André's creature. Is your san still enough your own to withstand the Mother's examination?"

Antoinette sucked in her breath. Her eyes widened and filled with a sharp and terrible pain. "Et tu, Brute?" she whispered as tears hovered upon her lashes.

Damien's face was harsh and I could feel the hardening in his aura as he answered her. It pained him to have to speak the words, but speak them still he did. "I have a father's responsibility, Annie. You know I have my suspicions about André. I do not trust him. He lives in you through the móndav bond. Even so, I'm willing to trust you with my life, but because of that bond I cannot trust you with my daughter's. Mother is not the only one who has heard of André's desire for a mage slave."

"André despises slavery! Yes, a mage to aid us as fully as Mother aided Father would help strengthen our position, but not by slavery! If for no other reason than that a mage whose Will can be stolen so easily is no mage worth claiming! André would never, never do such a thing! Not to our family!"

"But he has hurt this family. You know how. It has nothing to do with death and everything to do with betrayal and you stand by him and I don't understand that. I know it's possible to trust someone who has lied to you and who's lied to people you trust, but I don't know how. How do you know he isn't doing to you what he did to the one before you? How can you trust him so much? I just don't get it," I butted in, the memory of Grandmamma's emotions rising up from the hole I tried to shove it in and swamping what sense I had.

The shock and horror that radiated from both Antoinette and Grandmamma paralyzed the room. Damien looked at me as if he were screwing up the courage to ask what I meant, but Grandmamma broke free first.

"Where …?"

"I can't help what I See and I don't know how not to Look. I Saw what he did that made you so sure he wouldn't be part of Grandpa Kyle's death and I Saw that she knows about it. The whole mess gives me the ickies," I said, still trying to work my way out of Grandmamma's emotions. They clung, though, denied release by Grandmamma's stern self-control and seeking it through me.

Antoinette latched onto the last part. "And who are you to judge?" she hissed.

Her defense awoke a hint of Grandmamma's rage and I snapped back, "He backstabbed Grandmamma for Grandpa and then he backstabbed Grandpa for you! Do you not see the pattern here? You can call it love if you want to, but I call it a wake up call!" Visions of violence began dancing through my brain, rage echoing heartache. I grew more frantic to thrust these foreign emotions from me, fearing that they would wake my own guilt-betrayal seesaw that I worked so hard to forget.

"I don't like the conclusion I'm beginning to draw here," Damien stated, looking a little wild. Marco was trying to blend into the woodwork and looking for an exit. Paul and Tygone both assumed an unnatural stillness, though Tygone's was more about not being seen and Paul's stillness hinted at suppressed action.

I think Grandmamma figured out some of what was happening to me. She reached for me and wrapped me in her aura, but her emotions would not return to her so easily. Instead, her sobs tore from my throat as her pain and despair clenched my heart and wracked my soul. When my own pain rose, met, and mingled with her's I gave up fighting for some measure of control and just gave myself to the grief.

Damien's wild look faded as he had me to concentrate on. He took me from Grandmamma's arms and rocked me, a look of deep and puzzled concern etched in the lines of his face. "What are you crying for?" he asked.

"Me," Grandmamma answered.

"Well, isn't this a lovely welcome?" posed a sultry feminine voice.

"Grand-mère Noncy!" Grandmamma cried, putting a hand to her chest. "You about scared three centuries off me!"

"I am not raising another child again, thank you very much," the voice stated archly. I felt the swirl of strong magics coming towards me, but locked as I was in the grief I hadn't the strength to look up. Then soft fingers touched the back of my neck and stole the grief right from me, leaving me limp in my father's arms. Those fingers curled around the back of my head and turned my face towards Grand-mère Noncy's.

From the few things I had heard of Grand-mère Noncy, I think I expected someone much more obviously elder and taller. I do remember being surprised to see that she was perhaps a bare five foot tall in heels and that the few lines on her face were lines of mirth and not of age. That night, she wore a bright, yellow wrap-around dress, reminiscent of a halter-top with attached skirt. The hemline hovered just below the knees. Her arms and shoulders were bare despite the November chill.

Her hair is so dark a brown that it almost appears to be black. Her eyes are the color of stained mahogany and streaked with that deep red only seen in flawed rubies. Her skin is an in-between shade of tan, but with her hair and eyes most people, especially along the southern border, mistake her for Mexican. She has the strong, patrician nose and shortened jaw that screams "Native American". Grand-mère Noncy is a handsome woman whose beauty is more dynamic than most. In video, that beauty comes across passably well, but still frame photography fails to capture her grace and charisma.

As I looked into my great-great-grandmother's eyes for the first time I was struck by the sense of family. As with Damien, my soul recognized her and trusted her from the first. To this day, that trust has proved well founded.

"Child, you're dangerous," she stated. Her voice was a soothing breeze across my soul and brought with it an easing that told me more clearly than the pain it replaced just how close to overload I was running.

"And it's worse 'cause I don't know how to shut it off," I added, my voice soft and shamed.

She gave me a thorough look-through, not trying to hide from the parts of me she weighed and measured as her magic reached inside me. Her eyes twinkled by the time she was through. Though the extent of my awakening amused her, there was still a very strong sense of gravity to her.

"Mother Isis, child! You do begin as you mean to go on, now don't you? What say you to the blocking up of some of the wilder aspects of your magic? As it is, you've far too much to try to comprehend to do very well for a while."

"Will I lose any of me?" I asked, scared and eager. I was eager for the control and scared because my magic was, is a very integral part of myself.

"The short answer is that I don't know. We'll get to the long answer after the formalities are concluded," she stated, releasing me before she turned to my aunt.

"Antoinette, you are family and through you so too is André Vinasol. We have no need to place ties of binding around either of your shoulders as that familial bond already exists. How you ever came up with such utter nonsense is beyond me!" Grand-mère Noncy had her hands on her hips with her foot tapping out a rhythm of extreme aggravation.

"Kyle promised us that every upyr who ever owed him allegiance would understand this one simple cause and effect – bind any member of our family and the entirety of our family comes with that bond. Kyle did not bind your mother while she was married out of respect for the Liege of D.C. and he did not bind her afterwards because he knew we would be very upset that her heart was engaged and his was not."

Grand-mère's eyes narrowed and her foot stilled. She shifted her arms from her hips to wrap across her chest. "Given the circumstances, it is only your mother's word that you appeared happy in this bond which kept Anastase from declaring a War of Blood Debt. The insults we have suffered from Vinasol over the decades have not eased our concerns. We will speak as móndav to móndav later, but Vinasol will answer for his insults. He has made the situation unavoidable."

At some point Aunt Antoinette had stood up and turned toward Grand-mère. Her face was flushed with strong emotion and a tick jumped at the corner of her eye. "You violate my amerte's fife and have the gall to issue threats?" she hissed.

Marco shifted, just a small movement, but a whiff of fear-stench wavered past me from him. He was focused, not on Grand-mère and Antoinette, but on someone, or something, behind us. I turned to look at what scared him so.

Three men and a woman fanned out from the door. All were therians and at least one was an Ascender, judging from the dominance stink rolling through the room. A stray thought had me glancing over towards Paul and Tygone. Paul seemed unmoved, but Tygone was obviously trying very hard not to drop to the floor, roll on his back, and bare his throat. I looked back to the strange shifters.

The woman was a mulatto, tall and well muscled. She was not the Ascended shifter, but she was close. She stood between the kitchen entrance and the archway into the living room, her attention all for Grand-mère. Her hair was a sea of braids coiled into the semblance of a French roll and her cocoa eyes appeared to be without whites. She wore a floor-length sarong and sandals with laces that climbed up her calves. Her bearing made of the wrap a gown worthy of a queen. I looked around for her staff, or some other sign of royalty, half expecting to see one of the men holding it for her.

Looking for her staff drew my eye towards the men. The Ascender was closest to the kitchen door and he, like Paul, was a glorious dose of male eye candy. Where Paul was tall, though, this man was not. At the age of ten, I was a couple inches short of five feet tall. The man by the door was perhaps a couple inches over five feet – not enough to strain my young neck to look up to him. He was square, though, and solid muscle. He wore navy slacks and a white button up shirt, open at the collar, and the clothes were obviously tailored for him. His hair and his eyes were a melt-in-to-you brown, his skin sun kissed, and his features chiseled as if by the hand of a master sculptor. His eyes were on me.

The other two men both wore navy slacks and white, button up shirts without ties. One, with blond-brown hair, stood on the far side of the living room archway, his back to the wall so he could see into the living room and the formal dining room, too. The other, a dark brunette, stood between the Ascender and the woman. Both were obviously fit, both definitely dominant, but it was the one with the lighter hair that made me feel edgy. Looking at him made me think of contained violence. The others all looked like they could kick butt if that was what the situation called for, but the sandy haired man seemed to be actively looking for the chance to rend and tear. Looking at him drove out my whimsical thoughts of royal staves.

The darker haired man, like the woman, was focused on the adults surrounding the confrontation. The sandy haired man seemed to take in everyone, his eyes never staying still. He caught me looking at him and he met my gaze for a moment before flickering around the room and coming back to me. Each time our eyes met, it was as if the waiting violence eased within him.

"Your amerte violated our family, child! Anastase is the patriarch of our clan and André bound you without Anastase's or your mother's consent. As I stated before, it was only your mother's assurance that you were happy in this melding that has kept Anastase from calling Blood Price upon André for so heinous a violation!" Grand-mère snapped back. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze sharpening, and she tilted her head to the side. Some thought occurred to her and she added, "But that's not your real concern, now is it?"

A touch of panic tinged Antoinette's voice, "Of course it is!" she snapped, but her tone lacked conviction.

Grand-mère closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose. "Don't lie to me, Annie. I can smell the truth. Your mother has never been a móndav or an amerte – I am both and I am stronger than you. This is one secret you cannot hide from me, not in the flesh. Call André to you through the móndav-amerte bond. We will sort this mess out once and for all."

Antoinette looked like she had swallowed something raw and unwholesome. Damien cleared his throat. Neither Grand-mère nor Antoinette acknowledged him, so he spoke, "Not in my house, not on my property, not while my daughter is unable to protect herself from him. I am not giving him an opening."

Grand-mère turned stern eyes to Damien, but he never flinched. I ducked and tried to hide under his chin and he reflexively began to stroke my hair. I realized that Grand-mère's voice was not her natural voice when she asked, "Really?" The timber was too harsh, too gravelly. When I asked her about it later, she informed me that she was quite happy that her voice was the only permanent reminder she had of being trapped inside a burning townhouse during the Civil War. She had panicked and threw up a defense against the fire, but forgot about the searing heat of the smoke. Her throat and lungs were heavily damaged before she realized her oversight and eventually they scarred, changing her low soprano to a high tenor.

"It is not only my duty as Rhiannon's father, but also the charge of the umbrean who Judged me Draken Pater, to see to her welfare until the day she calls her own móndav," Damien stated.

Grand-mère was damned near squinting and a tick started up in her jaw. "The umbreans have already been and gone? And you live? And what, pray tell, is a Draken Pater?"

"It's all my fault," I said miserably, giving Grand-mère what I'm sure were huge, woe filled eyes. It's how I felt and my face can be far too revealing.

"Really?" she said.

I took a deep breath and nodded. Damien pulled back enough so he could look at me. "Really?" he asked, his eyebrows hiking up. "What did you hear in the Judgment that I didn't?"

"Mr. Stark, the umbrean, he said that I Called the form of the Draken Guerre to you and while I was doing the Calling and stuff that I striped the bad stuff out so it's my fault that your now a shifter, but at least you didn't have to be an infernalist or anything like the folks who tried to wake up their Guerres," I answered, starting to feel as young as I was. Wringing my hands and trying to maintain eye contact with Damien, I added, "Since he said you pretty much have to do the same things you'd do as my daddy, I don't know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing or just a thing-thing."

Damien ruffled my hair and pulled me back up against his chest. "At this point, it's just a thing-thing, sweetie. We'll see where it takes us when we get there."

I felt Damien look up at Grand-mère. "You've done something, like a net or something, around Rhi."

"Yes. Her magic is very emotion-centric right now. During that stage, it's similar to having a mild empathic gift, with flashes of far seeing as the magic tries to explain the emotions the mage picks up. It's almost like living with someone with, what is it called? Bi-polar … mood swings. I set up a shield for her so she can be at peace in her own mind without the contamination from everyone else she encounters. Marie-Sovange sent your mother to us when she began to exhibit the same symptoms. But you were telling me about the umbrean's visit."

Damien related the details pretty concisely.

"I see," Grand-mère stated. "Well, be that as it may, will you accept as surety for André's visit to your property your sister's Goddess-sworn testament that neither she nor André nor their vassals shall hurt, or harm, or enslave Rhiannon or coerce or attempt to coerce her through ties of blood, loyalty, or emotion?"

"It is not my sister I distrust. It is André. I will not accept her oath because, even if she were the amerte, she cannot guarantee André's behavior or actions."

Paul spoke up, "You're looking for a neutral but private place to meet up, right?"

"Yes, Navitchi."

"I've only Ascended once, ma'am; I am no Navitchi. However, my spread is just beside Damien's and I've a section that's set aside for parley grounds. It's mainly used by the shifters, but André's crowd's used it on occasion. It's dedicated neutral and it's book-it-before-you-use-it. The grounds're open in a half-acre radius and flat, so there're only mind tricks to hide you out there."

Antoinette seemed to have gotten a hold of her self. "Acceptable, but only with Damien present," she stated, staring into Grand-mère's eyes.

Grand-mère Noncy met the stare and said, "His presence will not keep hidden truths hidden."

"He needs to know in a way that he cannot claim as André's trickery."

"So be it," she agreed. Turning back to Paul, she asked, "Are the parley grounds available now?"

"Yes, ma'am, through Saturday morning."

"Then let us 'parley'," Grand-mère stated. She turned to look at Damien with a cocked eyebrow.

Paul spoke up. "If you'll trust me to, I'll watch over Rhiannon. No invites to anyone and off to bed in an hour or so, right?"

It took Damien a moment of hard thinking before he said, "No invites to anyone, emergency numbers are on the fridge, you have my pager, her bedtime is ten."

"I'll keep her safe, I promise," Paul said, his voice soft and serious.

Damien nodded his head in acceptance of the promise, set me on my feet and stood up. "I have a feeling that I'm not going to like what ever 'hidden truths' you two plan on seeing brought out. I'll escort Grand-mère, Annie. You make sure that André doesn't bring the entire vassalage of Sacramento into the meeting." He swept his gaze over Grand-mère's guards and added, "If you want me there, he doesn't bring more than five vassals with him. Six plus amerte and móndav should equal out to the bad-asses that Grand-mère brought along."

"Twelve." Antoinette shot back.

"I'm not walking into a war between my sister and my great-grandmother. Five vassals of his choice, Marco, André and you should be enough that if you need it, you've got protection. Anymore is just an invitation for André to try something stupid and I see him as a threat to my daughter. Don't force me to make a choice that involves my daughter's safety and your amerte. I really don't want to have to live with that." Damien's aura slow-crawled, the colors darkened as if they were smoke-touched. I could see the pain flaring in him and I could see the answering flare in Antoinette's aura. There was, surprisingly, no condemnation in her.

"She's my niece. I expect nothing less of you. Six vassals, Marco, André and me," she replied.

Damien looked at her, thought long and hard, and asked, "The Cormans?"

Antoinette nodded.

Damien thought a moment more before saying, "Acceptable."

Grand-mère arched her eyebrow at the twins. "The Cormans?"

Damien answered, "Five brothers, one sister. The brothers are brawlers and mildly empathic and the sister is fully empathic and a touch-sensitive clairvoyant. When the clan's together, they can amplify enough to search as far out as a little beyond the parley grounds."

Grand-mère took her time thinking before she, too, said, "Acceptable."

Within half an hour all the adults in my family trooped out the door, leaving me behind with Paul and Tygone. We played gin rummy until my bedtime, my winning streak broken. For some reason, Paul kept tapping Tygone's forearm throughout the night.

Positive that I wouldn’t sleep until Damien returned, I trundled off to bed, avoiding the bathroom, and absently started tracing the swirls on my quilt. I don't remember my dreams from that night. I awoke the next morning to the smell of bacon and pancakes. Grandmamma was not cooking.

I followed my nose, still wrapped up in my quilt, into the kitchen. Damien stood at the stove flipping pancakes while Grandmamma and Grand-mère sipped coffee. Only two of Grand-mère's guards were present, the Ascender and the woman. No one had changed clothes from last night.

Damien, without turning around, called over his shoulder, "Good morning, squirt. Grab a cuppa and seat yourself at the table."

I shuffled over to the mug rack, grabbed my Care Bears mug, and set it down at the kitchen table. I snagged the stepping stool, carted it over to the panty, climbed up and selected a jar of loose tea from the array that Damien stocked. At the time I was partial to cherry mint. Pulling out a tea strainer from the odds-n-ends drawer, I set about making my cuppa. Grandmamma insisted I add a dollop of honey to my tea as it was local honey and supposed to gently inoculate me from developing allergies to the local flora. My grandmothers and the guards watched me as I puttered about.

I waited until I was seated to say my good mornings. The response was closer to an all around grunt than a conversation starter, but I didn't let that deter me.

"So how did things go last night?" I asked, taking a tentative sip of my tea. It was still a bit warmer than I preferred so I blew on it, carefully not looking around.

A plate with pancakes, eggs, bacon and silverware slid under my nose. Damien answered, "We all decided not to kill each other yet. A good start, given the circumstances."

I nodded, looking up at my father. The glimpses into my family that I caught the day before made me very much aware that Damien wasn't really joking, no matter how flippant the words seemed.

"Did you get much beyond the not killing each other?" I asked, my voice soft.

Grand-mère answered, "Let us simply say that much was revealed which had lain in shadows these decades past. It will take a while to … fully digest the import of much of these revelations."

"And I'm too young to know some of them and others are just plain none of my business, right?" I asked, accepting that I wasn't going to get a full dish of last night's events, but hoping that by being reasonable I might get at least a partial. Damien started cleaning up.

Grand-mère gave me a considering look, patted my head and said, "Eat your breakfast, child," before turning her attention back to her coffee.

"Aren't your guards going to eat, too?" I asked. Not being introduced to these folks was making me itchy. I just didn't know how to treat them and I was raised to care about courtesies and politeness and all that.

"My bodyguards have already supped."

"Please pardon me, Grand-mère, but I've never been around bodyguards. Is it okay to say hello and stuff or is that likely to be a distraction and all?" I finally worked out. Poppa has a series of favorite axioms beginning with "Ignorance answered is bliss" and ending with "Assume is spelled 'Ass U Me'". When he really got going, he could spend hours on any one of them, pounding in how much better it is to ask than to bluff your way through.

A smile twitched around the corners of the Ascended man's lips. Grand-mère arched an eyebrow at me, looking me over pretty well. "Andrew and Rashonda are not likely to be distracted by a mere 'Hello, how d'ya do', but it is generally considered good manners to await an introduction from the person being guarded and to refrain from making small talk or other politesse while the guards are on watch. There is no need to treat a bodyguard like furniture, however most guards on serious detail are supposed to blend into the background, not stand in the spot light."

I thought about it for a moment and asked, "So, pretty much it's not a bad thing to acknowledge a bodyguard, but respect the fact that they're working, right?"

Grandmamma and Grand-mère shared a look before nodding at me.

I looked up, smiled at the two guards in the kitchen and waved, happy to have a clearer idea of what to do. Then I dug into my breakfast. I savored the bacon as I doubted I would get more anytime soon. Grandmamma just thinned her lips at the sight and turned her attention to Grand-mère.

A tired quiet fell over the kitchen. After Damien finished washing up he, too, sat down to the table with a cup of coffee. I realized as I munched away that the adults probably hadn't been to bed yet.

I finished up my meal and, leaving my quilt at my seat, took the dishes to the sink. On the way over I asked, "If I keep the volume down, may I watch a movie or two while you all catch some sleep?"

"Only movies on the bottom of the tape rack and you may watch the PBS channel, too," Damien answered, shooting me a wry grin.

"Nifty!" I said, hurrying through washing my dishes. Damien grabbed me around the waist as I dashed back to gather up my quilt, hauling me into a great, big hug. Ruffling my hair, he turned me toward the living room and gave me a gentle push.

"Have fun," he laughed.

I giggled as I snatched up my quilt and went in to watch my movies while the adults slept in shifts.

Grand-mère and her entourage stayed with us for a week before returning to Virginia. They and André held three more '"parley" sessions during that week. Grandmamma, she, and I all had a few long talks about what was happening with my magic. Between my two grandmothers, they figured out a way to seal off the more dangerously unpredictable magics already awakened within me. We all knew it was not a permanent solution, but it bought me the time I needed to learn control and that was all that was needed.