The Progeny

by Shelley Crowley

  Her Maker was broken. Shattered like the china at her feet.

  Evie sank down on the bed and wrapped a comforting arm around her, knowing that no words could soothe her pain. Varsee wailed, a sound that was wet with saliva and broken with tears. She fell against Evie, her head bent and covered with her hands. Tears sprang into Evie’s eyes, staining her vision red as she held her crumbling Maker.

  This had all started about an hour after Eric had taken a bloody and convulsing

  Alexander away.

  At first, Varsee had tried to stay strong and collected. The red tear tracks constantly marred her face and she stumbled when she stepped but other than that, she was able to mask her worry and distress with the effortless talent of an Oscar winning actress. Even when Caius had called for Milah to debrief her about the dead blood whore in the kitchen and make sure they wouldn’t get into trouble with Guardian, Varsee had stayed silent, her eyes wide and white knuckles pressed to her lips. Apparently, there had been half a dozen other reported deaths of blood whores in the two nights prior, all seemingly not vampire related. Because Varsee had used a knife, there was no reason for the human authorities to suspect Varsee’s kill to be vampire related, either. The murder was clean cut. Everything could be swept under the rug.

  And then it had happened.

  Alone in the kitchen, Varsee had collapsed to the tiles with a screech of inexplicable pain. Evie had flown in at the ear-splitting sound that calved her in two. Her Maker had been scrabbling on the floor on her hands and knees, her nails digging into the grooves between the tiles for support as her whole body quaked.

  And Evie had felt it too, as if it was an extension of her Maker’s suffering. Like the weaker reverberation at the end of a plucked string. It was the odd sensation of something… snapping. Dislodging. Breaking. Breaking not just from her body but from her being.

  Varsee had managed to push herself up into a sitting position and back-crawled her way into the corner of the cabinets. Her blonde hair was a mess over her face as she sobbed into her hands, her eyes huge and glazed over with panic. She was mumbled against her palms, a muffled, constant humming.

  Evie sank onto the floor in front of her and held her by her shoulders, tears of her own blurring her vision. “Varsee, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  But Varsee just shook her head vehemently and screamed into her hands - a shrill, agonising sound. That was when Caius and Robin entered the room and stood frozen in the doorway. A look of dawning realisation had softened Caius’ features as he looked down at his fellow ancient falling apart on the floor.

  The dead blood in her body turned into ice in her veins. She cupped Varsee’s face.

  “Varsee, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “He’s gone!” Varsee cried, sobbing so hard it was making her chest heave forwards.

  “Alexander? I know he’s gone but he’ll come back. He will come back.”

  “No, he won’t! He’s never coming back!” she wailed back and the certainty in her voice made Evie freeze. Varsee stared into her eyes through her matted, bloody hair. The desperate, frantic terror that swirled around her stormy eyes almost made Evie want to pull away. But she didn’t. She kept Varsee’s head supported and smoothed the hair from her face. Varsee gulped hard and lowered her shaking hands to her lap, knotting them tightly together. “He’s dead, Evie. My brother’s dead.”

  Then Evie did let go. The force of her Maker’s words felt like a physical blow to the chest. She fell back onto her heels and just stared as Varsee slowly lowered her face back into her palms.

  That must have been what Evie had felt.

  Alexander’s bond being severed.

  And Varsee could pull on that rope as much as she wanted but it was no longer attached to anything.

  Alexander was dead.

  Varsee’s whimpers made Evie’s throat tighten. As she held her, Caius silently entered the room and dropped to his knees, sweeping up the broken plate with a dustpan and brush. He caught Evie’s eye and looked down to Varsee. His eyebrow and the edge of his lip lifted as if to say how’s she doing? To which Evie just shook her head solemnly, still not good. Caius frowned, dipped his head in a farewell gesture and left the room with the dustpan.

  Evie stroked the back of Varsee’s head, a soothing motion that she had seen her do to Alexander.

  “I’m so sorry,” Varsee mumbled against Evie’s shoulder, her voice brittle.

  “What are you sorry for?” Evie asked, her eyes trained ahead and lips tight to prevent the tears.

  “I’ve been a shitty Maker this past week. And you are only a new-born.”

  Evie gritted her teeth in anguish. “Don’t worry about me. How can you even think that in a time like this? You take as much time as you need, Varsee. I’m not going anywhere. And seeing you like this only makes me wish I could do something to help.”

  Varsee shifted, rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her tattered dressing gown. She was still looking down, her face covered with her mass of hair. “You don’t think I’m weak?”

  The question made Evie choke back a sob. “No. Of course not. You’ve lost your brother. I wouldn’t expect you to be acting any differently.”

  “I am a strong person, Evie.”

  “I know that.”

  Now she looked up. She pushed back her blonde hair and the heat of her gaze forced Evie to meet it. Red lines swam under her blue-green irises. Her long lashes were clumped with old, crusted tears. Her look was one of complete surrender, wide and terrified and exhausted. “But this is too much.

  “It’s too much, Evie. I can’t lose him. Not him.” Her nostrils suddenly flared and she jerked herself from Evie’s hold, sitting up straight on the bed. “I should have gone with him. I just… I just carted him off like he was nothing.” She gasped, throwing her hands over her mouth. “What must he have thought of me? How could I have let him die alone? After so many years of never being apart. I should have been there.”

  “But then you would most likely be dead, too.”

  “Yes, I would.” She bowed her head in defeat before shaking it rapidly, making her long blonde hair thwack against Evie’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t be thinking that it would be a nicer alternative. No. Because then I would have left you.” Crying out loud, she smacked the heel of her palm against her forehead and curled herself into a protective ball. “I’m such a bad Maker. I shouldn’t be thinking these things.”

  “Stop feeling guilty, Varsee.” Evie’s tone came out sharper than she had intended it to. But seeing Varsee beating herself up all through the nights was taking its toll on her. Not because she was her Maker, but because Varsee was her friend. A friend in need. A friend in distress. And she was torturing herself.

  To this, she didn’t reply.

  Evie smoothed her hand down her back. “You should come downstairs.”

  Varsee shook her head.

  “You’ve been up here by yourself for hours. Just come downstairs with me. We can get a drink. We’re all missing him, Varsee. You’re not alone in this.”

  It was true. They were all missing Alexander dearly. He was a great loss. Without his wit and easy charm, there were no laughs. There was no joy. There was no life.

  Robin had hardly spoken a word. When Evie would pass his bedroom door before daybreak, she would hear his muffled sobs as he cried into his pillow. Then she’d see him the next night looking like he was caught in some sort of bereaved trance as he stared at the moving pictures on the TV screen. Evie knew that Caius was trying to be strong for her, and Varsee’s sudden downfall had given them both the perfect opportunity to mend their relationship for good.

  Caius wasn’t Evie’s Maker. He was her lover. It had just taken her a while to distinguish between the two and she had taken out her confusion on both him and his new progeny.

  But with Alexander gone, it had put everything into perspective and they knew they all needed to stick together. Despite Alexander’s absence seemingly sucking out all of the ener
gy in the farmhouse, leaving the three of them moping around like the actual undead, they were all there. Together. And they were going to stay together.

  Evie stood up hesitantly. The faint movement made Varsee head snap up, her eyes wide and pleading. Evie outstretched her hand with a warm, encouragingly smile. Varsee took it, her body trembling. She stood and her body unfolded slowly as if she were afraid something was going to snap.

  The two of them descended the stairs, Varsee’s hand still clinging onto Evie’s like a child in a disorientating crowd. Caius’ and Robin’s head turned when the floorboards in the hallway creaked. They both sent Varsee a supportive smile, to which she reciprocated with obvious effort.

  In the kitchen, Varsee relaxed into her usual place by the cabinets while Evie poured them both a drink. She passed her Maker a beaker of blood. The plastic beakers were obviously suited for infants, with their colourful designs of a summer garden – but they were the only things suitable to have in the house in case Varsee had another episode.

  “Thank you,” said Varsee, her voice nothing more than a whisper as she held the cup close to her chest in a desperate grip as if afraid that, too, was going to leave her. She ran her finger gently around the rim. “The house feels empty without him, don’t you think?”

  Evie took a sip of her cup and nodded.

  Varsee laughed. It was sad and wistful and clattered in her throat. She gazed out of the window. “He was irritating. Narcissistic. And quite frankly a pain in my arse. But he was my brother and I loved him. For all of that.”

  “I know.”

  Varsee showed a gratified smile before bringing the cup to her mouth and drinking. For the first time in four nights.

  The silence between them was a comfortable one. Evie relaxed into one of the chairs at the table, keeping Varsee in her eye line as she leaned against the cabinet and took sip after sip of her cup until she rested it, empty, on the countertop.

  And then the calm was interrupted.

  By a knock at the door.

  The knock was a laceration through the thick, hanging silence. Varsee jolted upright. Before Evie even got to her feet, Varsee was a blur, sweeping passed her and knocking her with a gentle gust. When Evie rounded the kitchen doorway, Caius and Robin were also on their feet, poised at the threshold of the hallway. They were watching Varsee warily as she collected herself behind the closed front door.

  The second knock made all four of them jump. Even though the sound was quick and friendly – if one could describe a knock as such – it rattled through Evie’s bones and had her holding in an unneeded breath.

  She could see her Maker’s shoulders relax from behind as she let out a calming expel of air before gripping the handle. The door swung inwards, obstructing Evie’s view of their company. All she saw was the way Varsee recoiled and closed her hands over her mouth. A sob was muffled against her palms and the noise had Evie crossing the room, the muscles in her back coiling as she readied herself pounce.

  But she was stopped. Held back by an arm thrown out across her chest. Caius was looking down at her, his pale eyes steady.

  Another sob escaped Varsee before she was enveloped by a pair of long bluish-red arms. A body folded into her so perfectly that there wasn’t a hair’s breadth between them. It was as if they were two pieces of a puzzle slotting together. A missing piece finding its home.

  And that’s exactly what it was.

  Varsee’s knees gave way, threatening to pull her to the ground but she was held up by the spine-breakingly strong hug. She sobbed more now, but the sound was one of sheer joy as she buried her face in the long, agile neck of her brother.

  “Alex,” she cried against him, her fingers digging into his thin black t-shirt.

  Alexander was crying, too. Evie couldn’t see his face as it was covered by his sister’s wild hair but she noted the way his body was shaking.

  He said nothing. But he held her. Held her like he never wanted to let go.

  By Evie’s side, Caius’ expression pinched with confusion. Evie thought back to the first night without Alexander and touched her chest in reflection of the pain she had felt. Alexander’s bond had been severed.

  So how was he here?

  As if reading her thoughts, Varsee slowly slid her hands from her brother’s back and held him at arm’s length. A cacophony of gasps rang through the house at the sight of Alexander’s face. And the clear tears that ran down his cheeks.

  Varsee dabbed her fingertip against the hollow pit under his cheekbone and Alexander winced as if the touch brought him pain. Or shame.

  She gazed down at the clear liquid before pressing her flat palm against the centre of his chest. Alexander whimpered, bowing his head to hide his face with his hair. His hair that was dark with grease.

  Varsee’s free hand balled and covered her mouth.

  And then, as if tuning into something she now knew was there, Evie could hear it. A thudding, erratic heartbeat. Alexander’s heartbeat.

  Varsee stared at his chest like she was lost in a trance. “I thought you were dead,” she rushed, in a tone that sounded relieved and afraid at the same time.

  Alexander’s hand covered hers on his chest, his bluish-red skin covering her lily-white flesh. The odd tinge to his skin must have been due to the cold weather. With the door still flung wide open, the breeze caressed Evie’s face and ruffled her hair. But unlike Alexander’s vulnerable human body, the cold was just a tickle.

  “Far from it, sis.” Alexander’s voice was hoarse, breaking through a cry.

  “What happened to you?” She looked up, her eyes searching his.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” His brows lifted, cracking his forehead and upturning his lips ever-so-slightly into a painful smile.

  Varsee folded herself into him again and he closed his eyes at the contact. “You’re so cold,” she whispered. “Let me run you a bath. Get you cleaned up, okay?”

  Alexander choked out a sob. “That sounds nice.”

  “Okay,” said Varsee softly. She shut the door and took his hand. She led him up the stairs in silence. When they disappeared around the bannister, Evie, Caius and Robin were left dumbfounded and blinking in the waking silence.

  “He’s alive,” Evie suddenly gasped, throwing her hands up to cover her gaping mouth. She was laughing, slightly hysterical by the sudden turn of events. “I can’t believe it. He’s alive.”

  “More than that,” Robin scratched his head, several emotions were chasing themselves across his young face. “He’s human.”

  He slowly staggered backwards and dropped onto the arm of the armchair. Caius was still standing looking up the stairs, his brows drawn. “But this doesn’t make sense. I thought Nico needed your blood to continue with the cure.”

  “Clearly that is outdated information,” Evie replied, hugging herself before shifting again and rubbing her forehead. She couldn’t keep still. This new revelation had her uneasy and restless. She was always so uneasy and restless. She paced across the hallway and shut the door. “What does this mean? Is his cure universal now? Is he going to unleash it onto all vampires?”

  “Maybe Varsee could Turn him back?” said Robin, hopeful.

  “Even if that is the case, things won’t be the same.”

  “What do you mean?” Evie asked Caius.

  Caius was watching her from the threshold of the hallway, the old man’s dressing gown hung open over his tall frame. He had even started to wear Mr. Braverman’s checked bottoms.

  His long dark hair was messy, making it fall over his left eye but even with the obstructed view, the sombre expression on his face was unmistakable.

  “If Varsee Turns Alexander back, she will no longer be his sister. He will be her progeny.”

  “And your brother,” added Robin.

  Evie followed Robin’s lead and leaned back against the sofa for support. She dipped her head, running her hands through her red hair. “This is insane. I mean, I know that Varsee was nowhere near getting over Alexande
r’s death but we were getting somewhere. And now Nico’s thrown us this curveball. I have no idea where we stand.”

  “At least he’s not dead,” mumbled Robin in a low voice as if just to himself. He had his head down, focusing on pushing his thumb in and out of the hole in his jumper cuff.

  “We need to focus on the bigger picture here. This goes beyond Alexander,” said Caius. “There’s a cure.”

  “There was a cure before,” countered Evie.

  “That only worked on you.”

  “Maybe this new cure only worked on Alexander.”

  Caius’ eyes dropped to the floor, his expression collapsing in on itself. Evie noted the disappointment in the tight line of his mouth.

  She picked herself up off the sofa. “You want the cure?”

  Robin’s head bounced up; his eyes wide on his Maker.

  Caius shifted awkwardly, making the dressing gown swish around his calves. “I just- I can’t help remembering what you had said to me after you were cured - when you left me. You wanted someone you could go for picnics in the park with. Have children with. Grown old with. If we both got cured, we could have that.”

  Evie was so touched that she felt the hot build-up of tears behind her eyes. “You’d do that for me?”

  His head was still bent low. He peered at her self-consciously through his brows. “I’d do anything for you.”

  She smiled and the creasing of her eyes let a tear escape. She wiped it away hastily. “It’s a lovely sentiment, Caius. It really is. But that just can’t happen.”

  “What do you mean? Why not?”

  She gestured to Robin. “You have a progeny to take care of. And Guardian on your back. There is no way he would let you, an ancient, become human again. It would be too great a loss for him.”

  Robin was peering at Caius, his shoulders up like a submissive child expecting a scolding. Caius’ pale blue gaze flickered to him, and he smiled. “It was a lovely sentiment.”