“Amazing,” she said. “It still smells much as it always did, but I honestly can’t remember what cow or bull tastes like. It’s been so long.”
“You miss it?” Tom claimed he didn’t miss eating solid food, but Stella unashamedly hankered after chocolate chip cookies and rocky road ice cream.
Antonia shook her head. “Not really. I don’t remember mortal food ever giving quite the same pleasure as warm blood from a willing vein.”
And if she were still mortal, that would have put her off the rest of her dinner! As it was, the immediate interest their entry stirred had settled, and everyone was back to playing darts or watching snooker on the TV. Elizabeth reached over, stabbed her fork into Antonia’s steak, and shifted it to her own plate.
Her movement caught Parsnip’s attention. The dog sat up and cocked her head expectantly. Her pink tongue lolling to one side, presumably to give the impression of being half-starved. Her sleek coat and plump body made a lie of the attempt.
“Oh, Parsnip! Give over!” her owner said. “Leave them alone. Sorry,” he went on to Elizabeth. “She can be a right pest if you let her.”
“She is beautiful though.” Elizabeth put down her fork and stroked Parsnip’s sleek head. “Mind if I give her just a taste?”
“Spoil her you will but…” A smile creased the wrinkled face. “She’ll love you for it, but mind you, she’ll never forget. She’ll expect it every time she sees you.”
“I can spare a mouthful. Here, Parsnip.”
Elizabeth cut off part of the fringe of fat and offered it. Parsnip took it, her dark eyes gleaming as she wolfed it down.
“That’s enough, Parsnip; you lie down now.” With the closest thing to a canine sigh, Parsnip lay down, resting her nose on her owner’s boots.
Elizabeth took care of the rest of the steak.
“You’d better stock up at a local butcher,” Antonia said. “You’ll literally eat all our profits if we come here for three meals a day.”
Good point. “I intended to today, but after I had such an odd experience when I picked up the car, I wanted to come back and think about it.”
“What happened?”
Elizabeth gave her the gist of her conversation with Ida.
“She might just be cautious. I bet they had the place overrun with reporters last year.”
“She knew I wasn’t a reporter. I mentioned Dixie and you buying the house. Heck, I called a couple of weeks ago to book the car. It was as if…” she paused, “she was scared. Afraid. Though why she should be afraid of me, I don’t know.”
“She no doubt has her reasons.”
Antonia was right but…“I know. It’s just…”
“You’d counted on her for introduction to the coven.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I know you lot don’t really understand, but I want to meet fellow witches. Meg Merchant and her coven welcomed me once she got over Tom being a vampire. She invited us into her home. The coven was small, but they joined with me in defeating Laran. It was a shared venture based on our common faith. But Ida was downright unfriendly. I could try contacting Emily Reade, the other name Dixie gave me, but I don’t even know if she’s still in Bringham. I need to ask around.”
“Maybe the coven has completely dispersed. You might have to look further afield.”
“At least you’re not telling me to forget it like Tom did.”
“I’m trying to be broad-minded. Also, I go back further than Tom. When I was girl, the old ways were still observed, often alongside the newfangled Christianity.”
“I thought Gwyltha said the witches all moved west. You grew up in the south, right?”
“The Druids moved west, mostly into Wales, and took their magic with them, but old practices remained, and wandering Druids and Merlins kept customs going. They were chased out in the end, but Gwyltha was one at the time—she was part of an envoy sent by King Aramaugh to negotiate an agreement to fight the Saxons.”
She’d learned more history hanging around with Tom and his lot than in twelve years of compulsory education, four years of college, and a couple more of grad school. “Was she always so imperious?”
Antonia nodded. “She was, but she had reason to be: she spoke for the king. Her reputation preceded her as a powerful woman. A couple of days into the negotiations, I learned I was part of the agreement.” Elizabeth waited, hoping she’d go on. “I was to be married to Aramaugh’s second son.”
“You agreed? Or did you have no choice?”
“I could have refused. My father, Vortax, would never have forced me into marriage; at least, I don’t think he would have. I was sixteen. I had reached puberty a year earlier. I knew I was expected to marry sooner or later, and my agreement meant increased defense for my father’s lands. And I was clearly informed that the union had the approval of the High King, Arthur.”
“So you married King Aramaugh’s son?”
Antonia nodded as she took a sip of water. “In two weeks, I was married to Bram. Less than a year later, I gave birth to twin boys.” She paused, her eyes going misty as if looking back over the centuries. “They were heralded as a wondrous omen. The king’s eldest son’s wife was barren. My baby boys were considered the hope of the kingdom. They were less than two years old and had only been walking a few months—I still hadn’t weaned them—when they were slaughtered in a Saxon raid. I tried to hide them, but a group of raiders dragged me off them and beat their brains out on the ground. Then they cut my throat, as if anything more could hurt me.
“Gwyltha drove them off. Killed a few of them, I think, and carried me off into the woods where she transformed me. She told me, when I came to, that I had the chance and the power to avenge my children and my husband. That was the first I’d heard for sure Bram was dead, but I knew in my heart he was.
“I’m sure you can imagine the havoc one new-made, vengeful vampire can wreak. Between us, Gwyltha and I and two others I never dreamed were vampires dispatched our share of Saxons to hell. For some years, they avoided that part of the coast. Declared it was invaded by evil spirits. We were next to unstoppable, impossible to slay. Driven by hate.”
“Excuse me, you want pudding or something else?”
They both stared at the waitress as if she were a being from another planet talking in an alien tongue. In a way she was. Elizabeth had been transported back to fifth-century Britain, and Antonia was there with her, reliving ancient pain.
“Thanks,” Elizabeth managed as the girl cleared away the plates. “We’ll skip pudding tonight.”
“Right you are. Brill, thanks.” She grinned as she pocketed the tip Elizabeth handed her. “Hope to see you back in here again some time. Okay?”
She walked back to the kitchen, and Elizabeth hoped Antonia would continue her story. She didn’t. Couldn’t blame her. Elizabeth had had some nasty experiences she’d rather not dwell on, but nothing to match Antonia’s horrors. She drained her glass of water in silence and had just opened her mouth to ask Antonia if she was ready to leave when a tall man lurched up to their table, grabbing the edge and knocking Antonia’s water onto the floor.
Chapter 4
Elizabeth froze, for a moment unable to comprehend what was happening. Antonia reacted faster, straightening her overturned glass and looking the man in the face. “Excuse me,” she began, turning toward the bar to get Alf’s attention. “We need a cloth here.”