Dark Heir

He swore softly and didn’t apologize. “I’ll be down in five.” He ended the call and I heard movement upstairs.

I pulled a short-sleeved T over my head and latched on my silver-plated titanium gorget, stuck my silver stakes into my bun, and holstered two .380s in a double shoulder holster I rarely used because it rubbed the skin under my arms, but the weapons didn’t show to the casual observer once I slid on a lightweight jacket. I’d sweat unless the heat wave had broken, but I could live with a little stink. I stuck a vamp-killer into each Lucchese boot shaft. Basic, minimum arms for a rogue-vamp killer. Then I hung two sterling crosses around my neck and emptied out an old gobag, filling it with stuff I might need at HQ.

Eli was standing in the kitchen drinking a fresh cup of espresso when I left my room, and over the scent of coffee, I could smell chai steeping. Alex was there as well, his head on the table, his eyes closed. He looked just the way a kid coming down off an energy-drink-induced high should look. Wasted. I poured the tea into a twenty-ounce travel mug and lifted it in a toast to Eli. With my knee I nudged Alex. He raised his head and cracked open his lids, glaring at me between his long, curly lashes, lashes that most women would kill for. I grinned at him, unrepentant. My power nap with Bruiser had revived me more than I’d have thought possible. Alex closed his eyes again and dropped his head with a groan.

“Since we’re all here,” I said, “I need to clarify something and correct a mistake.” Both brothers turned their total attention to me. “In the Cherokee tradition, family was not necessarily related by blood, but by marriage or adoption.”

A sudden tightness appeared at the corners of Eli’s eyes. Alex actually focused on me. Both Youngers stared at me, silent, unmoving.

“Since you bought into the company, since you moved in here, you’ve become more than just business partners to me.” I stopped. My throat didn’t want to go on, threatening to close up and suffocate me. I cleared my voice and the tissues sounded suspiciously thick and wet. “I haven’t researched the proper ceremony, and The People have ceremonies for everything, but they usually are amended and altered within clan and family.” I shrugged and set the travel mug on the table. My hands were sweating. “So I thought—” My voice stopped again and I cleared it, but when I went on, my voice was rough. “I thought that, if you wanted, we could become family and make up our own ceremony.”

Eli smiled, a real smile, showing teeth. Alex goggled, but his eyes appeared wet, and he blinked them quickly. Eli said, “Are you asking us to marry you, Janie?”

“No! The roles for men and women are different in Tsalagi society—” And then I realized he was teasing. I whooshed out a breath and wiped my palms on my jeans. “I’m asking you to become my brothers. My blood brothers, specifically. If you want to.”

For the next six years, subjective time, and what was more likely less than five seconds’ objective time, the brothers stared at me. Then they looked at each other. There was that wordless, instant, deep communication that took place among family. Alex shrugged. Eli shrugged.

“Why not,” Alex said.

“We are honored that a War Woman of The People would adopt us into her clan,” Eli said. Both Alex and I raised our eyebrows. He gave that open, warm grin again. “I’ve been talking to uni lisi. She wants to adopt us too. All of us.” Uni lisi was the mother of Aggie One Feather, who was an Elder of The People and my spiritual counselor. “But I’d rather be adopted by you,” he said.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “That old woman scares me.”

“Me too,” I said.

The brothers laughed, and I wasn’t sure why, but I laughed with them. Then I said, “Edoda, my father, was of ani gilogi, Panther Clan. My mother was ani sahoni, Blue Holly Clan. Technically, because the men left their clans and entered the wife’s clan when they married, I’d have been born into Blue Holly Clan, but because my eyes are yellow, I think the Panther Clan had claimed me, through my grandmother who was Panther. Also, after my father died, my grandmother claimed me and took me to her clan. I think. It was a long time ago. But that’s what I think happened.” I took a breath and it was shaky sounding. “So I want to invite you to be adopted into ani gilogi. To be my danitaga”—I stumbled over the word—“my blood brothers. To be my family.” I dredged up the words from my distant, fractured memory. “To be my tsidanalu. Or maybe it was my sidanelvhi. My family.”

“Why now?” Eli asked.

“Because before the EuroVamps get here, I’m going to write my will. It’s easier to transfer money to you if you’re family.” And because it’s what I want. I want a family. Didn’t say it. Figured they knew it.

Alex said, “Is this where we cut wrists and share blood? ’Cause that’s totally unhygienic, dude.”

I hiccupped with laughter. “No. That’s not in the Tsalagi tradition at all.” Eli gave a minuscule grin at my laughter. “And we’ll have to finalize this at the Propitiation of Cementation Ceremony, what we call the Friendship Ceremony. It’s celebrated ten days after the Great New Moon Ceremony, so once a year, in October, to be formal and legal according to tribal law. Traditionally two men publicly exchange clothes, one piece at a time, to make them brothers for life.”

Eli’s eyes widened. “I am not wearing your lacy undies.”

“I don’t have lacy undies,” I said crossly. Eli’s grin widened. “Brat,” I added. Just as I might have to a real brother. Eli’s grin went wider. Alex’s eyes were as large as saucers.

“Purification rites would follow the Cementation Ceremony, to remove any unforeseen barriers that stand between us and the Creator. And then we’re family. If you want to.”

“But for now?” Alex asked. “What do we do in the meantime?”

“I think we just say yes,” I said.

“Yes,” Alex said, instantly.

Eli’s smile slowly fell away. He set his own coffee mug on the table and stood straight, at attention, the military man’s regal bearing. He said, “Yes. My brother and I are honored to be accepted into the ani gilogi clan. Honored to be the . . .” He paused. “Sorry. I don’t remember the pronunciation.”

“Danitaga?” I supplied, as tears gathered in my eyes.