Queen of the Darkness

quietly. "Because blood is the memory's river."
    Exasperated, Karla looked at Tersa, but it was the structure that caught her eye first.
    A spiral. A glistening black spiral.
    Then the brown wooden blocks crashed down on the table.
    *Karla,* Gabrielle said softly.
    *I saw it.* She looked at Tersa, who looked back at her with frighteningly clear-sighted eyes. She knows. Mother Night, whatever is going to happen... Tersa knows. And so does Ladvarian.
    And knowing that much, there was no longer any need to ask "why."
    Glancing at Ladvarian for permission, Karla sent out the most delicate psychic tendril she could create and lightly touched the red bubble.
    Ladvarian, as a puppy, being taught by Jaenelle to air walk. Being brushed and petted. Being taught...
    She backed away. Those memories were private, the best he had to give.
    She swallowed hard—and tasted tears. "What Jaenelle is trying to do... Is it dangerous?"
    *Yes,* Ladvarian answered.
    "Have other kindred given this gift?"
    *All the kindred who know her.*
    And I'll bet none of them asked why why why. Karla looked at the rest of the First Circle. No trace of anger. Not anymore. They would think about Jaenelle's actions over the past few weeks and reach the right conclusion.
    "All right, little Brother," Karla said. Before she could use her thumbnail to prick a finger, Gabrielle touched her shoulder.
    "I think..." Gabrielle hesitated, took a deep breath. "I think this should be done as ritual."
    So that it would be as powerful as they could make it. "Yes, you're right." Karla set the clear bubble back into the bowl.
    "I'll get what we need," Gabrielle said.
    "I'll go with you," Morghann said.
    As Gabrielle and Morghann walked past the males, Chaosti and Khary reached out, each one giving his wife a gentle touch of apology before stepping aside.
    With a weary sigh, Ladvarian moved out of the way and lay down.
    Tersa stood up.
    "Tersa?" Karla said. "Aren't you going to give the gift?"
    Those clear-sighted eyes looked into her. Then Tersa smiled, said, "I already have," and left the room.
    That was enough to tell Karla who had shown the kindred how to create those brilliant little pieces of Craft.
    Watching the males shift places and take up their usual protective stance, Karla's eyes filled with tears, and she wished, futilely, that Morton could have been standing among them.
    We'll be all right, she thought when she saw Aaron wrap his arms around Kalush. The harsh words will be forgiven, and we'll be all right.
    But would Jaenelle?
----
    3 / Terreille
    "It's your turn, little bitch," Daemon said as he unfastened the chains from the post.
    Surreal stared at him. It was after midnight—was, in fact, almost twenty-four hours since he had killed Marian and Daemonar. The day had been quiet enough. Sadi had prowled around the camp, making everyone nervous, and Dorothea and Hekatah had played least-in-sight.
    "What are you going to do with the bitch?" Dorothea said, approaching the posts.
    Until now.
    Daemon looked at Dorothea and smiled. "Well, darling, I'm going to use her to give you what you've always wanted."
    "Meaning what?" Dorothea asked uneasily.
    "Meaning," Daemon purred, "that I'm going to break your slut of a granddaughter. And then I'm going to mount her until she's seeded with my child. She's ripe for it. It'll catch. And I'll make sure she has all the incentive she needs not to try to abort it. Your bloodline and me, Dorothea. Exactly what you've wanted from me. And all you'll have to overlook is the fact that the result might have pointed ears."
    Laughing, he dragged Surreal into the same hut that had held Marian and Daemonar.
    She waited until he had turned to close the door before she called in her stiletto and launched herself at him. He spun around, raised an arm to block the knife. She twisted, bringing the knife in under his arm, intending to drive it between his ribs up to the hilt. Instead, the knife hit a shield, slid right past him, and went into the door.
    Before she could yank the knife out of the wood, Daemon grabbed her, shoved her back to the center of the small room. Screaming, she launched herself at him again. He caught her hands and roughly pushed her back until her knees hit the edge of the narrow bed. She went down with him on top of her.
    He rolled off immediately, sprang to his feet. "That's enough."
    She leaped off the bed and hurled every curse she knew at the top of her lungs before she lunged at him again.
    He pushed her away