Daughter of Azeroth

47 | A NEW WESTFALL

That night, as Idira stood over Blackie's grave under a smoke blackened sky, she sensed someone watching her. She looked up, wary. Clad in black leather, a female slid from the shadows of the acacia trees and paced towards her, as graceful as a cat. Idira took a step back, wary. She had nothing with which protect herself, save her Light, which she wasn't sure she could count on. She half-turned to glance at the house, where she could see Unambi, bathed in candlelight, moving around, cleaning up the mess of broken crockery. She need only scream—

'I won't hurt you,' a feminine voice murmured, right behind her. 'I just wanted to make certain you were safe, after that.'

Her heart in her throat, Idira turned and met the dark eyes of the hooded young woman, lit by the soft light from the house.

'Vanessa?' she asked, uncertain, eyeing the set of large, vicious looking daggers the other woman wore on her belt.

The young woman nodded, terse. She pulled back her hood, just a little, so the deeper shadows left her face.

Idira stepped back, astonished, her hand going to her mouth. For a heartbeat she faltered, believing she was seeing the ghost of Myra when they still lived on the farm, for in Vanessa's face Idira glimpsed the same expressive eyes, and the familiar contours of her sister's cheekbones, jaw and brow.

Vanessa held up her hand, as though asking Idira to wait. Idira nodded, though her heart continued to pound, her mind caught in the echoes of the past as Vanessa glanced from side to side before cautiously pulling her hood back. Her niece's short, dark hair, mottled with sweat at the temples transformed her from memory into reality. Idira lowered her hand. This was no ghost, but the grown-up daughter of VanCleef and Myra, bearing Myra's features and VanCleef's colouring.

Vanessa glanced down at the little mound of muddy soil, bearing a stone at its head with Blackie's name etched across it. Her face tightened.

'Today?'

Idira nodded, her heart clenching in a fresh arc of pain.

'I'm sorry. She was a nice cat.'

Idira didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. Logan's words tumbled through her mind, jagged and angry. Aggressor. Murderer. Bitch. She rubbed her hands against her hips, nervous and conflicted. Vanessa was her blood. Even if she was doing wrong, she was still her niece, the child of her sister.

'I know about you and Logan,' Vanessa said, low, as she lifted her hood back over her head. 'I'm guessing after I caught him discovering my latest strike he told you everything.'

Idira couldn't muster the energy to ask how her niece knew so much about her situation. Instead she looked over the farm yard, cleared of its debris and nearly dry from the heated air washing over Westfall from the burning city. There was only one question she wanted answered, so she asked it.

'A patrolman? Why?'

Vanessa shrugged. 'He saw me. I had to. I didn't enjoy it. Of course my efforts were wasted now that Logan knows. I just wish what happened before I met the patrolman hadn't happened . . . ' She prodded at a loose stone with the toe of her boot. 'Well, it is what it is. It's done now.'

Despite the heat in the air, Idira shivered. Vanessa sounded just like her father. Cold. Calculated. Dangerous. Idira wasn't going to ask Vanessa what had happened before the patrolman. She didn't want to know.

'You won't . . .' Idira couldn't finish the question. She shook her head. The thought of losing Logan, after losing so many others was unbearable.

Vanessa smirked. 'Don't worry. I let him go, for your sake. But then,' she cast her eyes towards the red-flamed glow in the skies above Stormwind, 'I have a feeling I might be the least of his problems for the next little while.' She slipped back into the shadows. 'You always took good care of me, Idira. I have never forgotten that. I am glad you are safe. When Westfall is mine, I will make sure you will be well taken care of, you have my word.'