“No, it’s true. I never thought to meet one of you. My mother told me about you. Her mother told her. She said if there was ever trouble of this sort, the kind Amato and I have on our farm now, someone would come. There was a story told in our family handed down, really whispered. We don’t tell others.” She put a shaking hand to her hair. “I don’t know that I even believed it to be true until the mutilations started, and then I prayed that it was.”
Let her continue, Sandu advised.
Yes, Adalasia agreed. She needs to talk to someone. She’s been holding all of this in.
That wasn’t the same reason Sandu wanted Aria to continue, but he would take whatever he could get.
“The moment I saw the men, I knew. It was the way you carried yourselves. I just knew.” Aria ended on a whisper. “I will never tell a living soul other than Amato, and he will never tell anyone. We have been sealed together and we remain as one. This thing you do for us and everyone else will only be told within the family as a folklore tale if you approve. If not, not one word will ever be spoken.”
There was honesty in her voice, and Sandu believed her. He was in her mind, as were the guardians. They could see her truth there, as well. Unfortunately, her husband, Amato, wasn’t present, but they could easily enough scan his mind as well.
Before Adalasia could answer, Sandu did. “There would have to be safeguards put in place if memories were left behind with you and your husband of our existence and our presence here. You would be tied to us until you pass to the next life, and we would know should you ever betray us. The penalty for betrayal is death.”
He allowed her to see the flames flickering low in his black eyes even as he swept his arm around Adalasia to help reassure Aria he wasn’t a demon or vampire. “I can erase your memory of us, and there is no need to tie you to us. All will be as it was, without knowledge we were here, and you will just know that the incidents stopped abruptly.”
Aria’s hand crept to the cross she wore around her neck on a chain of silver. “I usually talk these important decisions over with my husband.”
“By all means, that would be a good idea. I believe he is coming in now. The dog is with him,” Sandu added.
Adalasia frowned. “The dog is still in pain, Aria. He isn’t healed completely.”
Aria inclined her head. “We both know that, but Amato doesn’t have any other way to warn him. We have to have our livestock in order to run the farm. He keeps Arturo, our dog, with him on a heavy leash. Arturo is a Bergamasco.”
Adalasia’s eyebrows went up. “That is a wonderful breed, but they don’t accept strangers easily, Aria. How in the world did you get him to the point that you could make your home into a bed-and-breakfast?”
Sandu was listening to Amato. He wasn’t alone as he entered the house with the dog. The last visitor had arrived. Tiberiu Bercovitz was with Amato, speaking softly with him, well aware that Sandu, Adalasia and the other ancients were in the sitting room with Amato’s wife. The dog was aware, as well, and was straining toward the hallway.
Aria laughed at the memories of getting their dog to accept strangers. The breed was invaluable to their farm. It guarded every animal on it, from the smallest to the largest, as well as the children and Aria and Amato, but the dog didn’t care for anyone else coming near them.
“We tried to socialize him very early because we wanted him to accept our friends coming, and we’d talked about turning the farm into a bed-and-breakfast. Still, it wasn’t easy. He’s a good dog and very intelligent. He does make up his own mind. There have been a couple of times he took a dislike to one of our guests and prowled outside their door, growling and carrying on until we had to lock him up so they’d be safe. Amato kept his eye on them, though.”
“Probably for the best,” Adalasia agreed. “If a dog doesn’t like someone, after tolerating every other guest, there could be a good reason.”
He probably will come in here and want to tear all of us apart, Sandu told her. He’ll sense the darkness in us.
Or the demon, Benedek added.
The dog will like me, Nicu said, a smug feeling in all of their minds.
Petru gave some kind of derisive sound, which meant he might just take over the dog and keep it quiet if it decided it didn’t like them and launched itself at them.
Adalasia’s laughter bubbled up like a gift. All of you are so ridiculous. Give off waves of friendliness. You’re all capable of suppressing the darkness.
For a dog? Benedek asked.