by Peter Dawes
“Well, it’s maddening for us both, if that consoles you any,” Robin said, breathing a chuckle tinged with bitterness. “That is why I’ve taken it upon myself to travel to Europe. In part because of the penance I need to pay, but also because leaving you in Ophelia’s hands makes the most sense to me. I would rather be here with you, but I can’t.” A solemn look overtook his expression, his gaze settling on me with more deliberateness. He claimed a moment to gather his thoughts. “I take no pleasure in my ignorance, Peter. At the same time, you don’t recognize how often your emotions lead you into ruin, a fact proven whenever the Fates use your loved ones to puppeteer you. If you think I am immune to that, then let me assure you I am not. We are never so blinded as when we view the world through our hearts.”
I nodded, feeling one weight lift from my shoulders while keenly aware of how many still remained. The breath which passed through my lips felt laden with exhaustion, the temptation to be overwhelmed creeping its way toward me. “Then what can be done about him? I agree that you are better served ensuring our peace here, but I am not foolish enough to think I can stay out of this for long.”
“Sadly, I have no idea what happens next. I will see what I can find in Europe, but what follows remains to be determined. I have no doubt we complicated his plans, but rest assured he’s still miles ahead of us.”
“You know him better than I do.”
“And I know he kept this side of himself hidden for decades. That alone should say enough.”
I nodded and looked away again. Chills settled across me which no amount of warmth could shrug away. I walked toward the bed and settled in the place where Robin had been sitting, taking my family picture in hand. My thumb traced over Monica’s face, the stark contrast of the human her and the image of her as a vampire playing out inside my head.
Robin sat beside me. “What are you concerned about the most with regard to being your wife’s maker?” he asked.
A shrug preceded my response. “Nothing in particular and everything all at once,” I said. “If saying that makes any sense.” Exhaling a sigh rife with tension, I peered up from the photograph. “I am in over my head. I did not know that I alone could wake her, and once I get past that notion, I cannot figure out what to do with her next. If this had been more premeditated, then I would have planned it better.”
“Surely you had some idea, if the two of you were already bound by contract.”
Turning my head to regard him, I perked an eyebrow at Robin. “Bound by contract?”
“You can’t claim ignorance with me. Better to admit the two of you were foolish and had this discussion before.” While Robin punctuated this comment with a laugh, when I continued to regard him in silence he sobered. “You... legitimately have no clue what I am talking about.”
“Brother, if I had any mind to be thick with you, this would be the wrong time to do it.”
“Granted, but it’s almost impossible for you not to know.” He sighed and held up a hand, fanning his fingers out while his tone took on the cadence of a teacher. “Immortality is a process for us, which begins when the maker and the would-be child discuss the transference of the dark gift. First they ask to be made immortal and then you agree to turn them. Or vice versa. Either way, the two of you are then bound by contract and you can turn them at any point thereafter.” His fingers closed into a loose fist. As if he held something in the palm of his hand.
My brow remained arched at him. “And turning cannot happen without first establishing this contract?”
He shook his head. His hand lowered onto his lap. “That is how it works. Contract first, or else the would-be child simply dies upon being drained. They won’t take the blood being offered and you being a doctor, you understand what happens when a patient is in shock.”
“No, they die without immediate intervention.” I frowned, my expression turning more even. Gaze shifting away from him, I attempted to sort through my memories for the time when Monica and I would have forged that sort of bond together. “How deliberate does the wording have to be?”
“Enough that the child surrenders themselves to the vampire. Beyond that, I don’t know.”
“Interesting.” I spoke the word as filler and nothing more, my mind far too wrapped up in sifting through my last interactions with Monica. It had not been in Italy, because she had been too determined to force me away. Moving beyond that, however, I traveled beyond the night in which she had been kidnapped and finally found the moment, locked away in a discussion we had while we had been estranged.
“And if only reason why this is an issue is because I’m not a vampire, well, fine, maybe you should make me one. You have my permission.”
“Quixotic imp,” I muttered. “You knew.”
“I beg your pardon?” Robin asked.
My eyes focused on the wall in front of me again before shifting back to Robin. “It was when she persuaded me to visit her in Costa Rica. While she pled for me to speak with her face-to-face. She thought I was avoiding her because I am a vampire and said that I could make her one as well. The words simply had no significance to me until now.”
“And you think this was deliberate on her part?”
“The fact that she spoke the words ‘you have my permission’ suggests that much.” I frowned. “Though it makes no sense to me why Sabrina wanted me to force her turning all those years ago.”
Robin eyed me with confusion. It took me a moment to remember that he had not been present when this happened, and realize the reason why. “Apologies, it was while you were dead. I had to play a ruse with Sabrina and make her think she had me in her thrall again. One of the things she demanded was for me to turn Monica vampire.”
“Without her consent?” Robin asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Our mother wanted her dead and you taught a lesson, then. Nothing more.”
“I do not put that past her.” My eyes strayed to the picture in my hand again. “She knows Monica is my weakness. That alone is probably why Monica begged us to stay away from Italy. We walked into a trap and nearly did not escape with our lives.”
“Not true, actually.” He waited until he had my attention again, looking away once I peered up at him. “I’ve been thinking about Italy. I think Patrick’s original intention was for us to capture Sabrina and him to rescue her before we could hand her over to the Order, though saying that baffles me. He hated her. None of that had been an act on his part.”
“So she serves another purpose, then?”
“What purpose that is eludes me. It’s obvious she has something over him, though.” His gaze shifted back to me, an eyebrow arched as I captured his attention again. “Though thinking of her spawns a somewhat related question. What do you intend to do about Flynn?”
I tensed, though I could not tell if the response had originated from me or my alternate personality. “What do you mean?”
Robin sobered, as if in recognition of Flynn lurking somewhere in the background. His tone of voice turned more stern. “I mean that he is going to do things like what I just saw happen in your expression. I know that he’s always listening. And you will have your hands full taking care of an immortal child. What do you intend to do about his interference while I am away?”
I silenced the beginning of a rebuttal finding its origin from Flynn. Shoulders rotating, I shut my eyes while forcing the assassin back and opened them only when I felt fully in control of myself. “I will have to make amends somehow,” I said. “I would hope that he knows better than to sabotage my attempt to teach her. He cares enough about her in his own right to have her best interests at heart.”
“You’ll have to forgive my cynicism, but I’ve seen the ugly side of his capricious nature.” He paused, searching me as if expecting a reaction and nodding when I provided none. “You have to prepare yourself for inevitability, Peter. He will interfere eventually. Unless you develop the power to stop your switches altogether, he’ll wrangle control from you when you least expect it
.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
“Allow her first encounter with him to be in a more controlled environment. Have Ophelia standing at the ready to intercede if needs be.”
‘How wonderful, a chaperone,’ Flynn chimed before I could stop him from offering comment.
‘As though you do nothing to deserve one,’ I said, directing my response internally. I nodded at Robin. “I will determine a time when it is best for that to happen.”
“Make it sooner, as opposed to later. Regardless of what she carries with her from the other side of the veil, she will have new instincts to wrestle against.” Lifting to a stand, Robin reached to pat my shoulder. “Let me help you move the rest of your belongings. We can talk more about what else you should do to prepare in the interim.”
“I would appreciate that a great deal.” Slowly, I rose, walking with Robin to my dresser and emptying out the remaining drawers. As Robin folded the clothing into a neat pile, he imparted upon me what he had learned as Sabrina’s second-in-command. So much about the experience, he admitted, defied him as he had never had any immortal children himself. At the same time, he had taken so many vampires out on their first evenings that to hear them relive them was to listen to the life story of every immortal brother and sister I had. By the time we finished, not only did I feel somewhat more at ease, it also seemed as though Robin and I had regained a semblance of our rapport.
“You do not have to stay for her awakening,” I told him as he stood with me in my new bedroom. His eyes remained fixed on Monica while we spoke. “I would not hold it against you.”
“And miss you tripping over your first few steps?” Robin asked. “Perish the thought.” When his eyes met mine again, he smiled. “I will be there.”
“Thank you, brother.”
Robin nodded, walking out of the room and leaving me alone with Monica. I watched him depart, taking a deep breath when the door shut and sitting beside my sleeping wife with a tremendous amount of heaviness. Still, my head felt clearer than it had in days. I knew I would not be able to forget about Patrick and Sabrina, but at least I had the ability to focus on the immediate future without being distracted.
“That just leaves us,” I said to Monica as I unbuttoned the first buttons of my shirt. After undressing, I slipped into bed with her and wrapped an arm around her, allowing myself to truly take her in, that hope of our future together encroaching on me again. A soft smile played across my lips, something sublime about the moment winding around me and working its magic. In some manner, she had wanted this; to be with me forever.
And I could not deny how much I wanted it as well.
Chapter Three
“Could you tell me about your awakening?” I asked Ophelia as three days of additional preparation wound to an end. Settling into one of her plush chairs, I felt the warmth from a glass of scotch still radiate through me while we relaxed in her private quarters. “Mine was not overly pleasant and I have no other basis of comparison.”
“Oh heavens, that’s ancient history,” Ophelia responded, tipping her head back and glancing heavenward while pausing to think. As I watched, I could not help but to muse upon the irony of evoking heaven for the memory of something so unholy. The placid smile which crossed her lips also served to betray that sentiment. “It was over three hundred years ago. I had been promised to one of my people – the Roma, that is – who traveled into Russia before we could be married. In the years I spent waiting for Luca to return, I blossomed into a woman – much older than the girls usually were while remaining unmarried.”
She paused to lift a glass of wine to her lips and took a drink. As her eyes focused on me again, I saw them dance with mischief. “Sebastian found me at a festival,” she continued. “One of those sorts thrown by the village where my family had settled while Luca remained absent. I remember him being the most interesting person I’d ever seen. Dark hair and dark skin and deep, brown eyes. His smile was like witchcraft to me.”
A small grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. “You found him attractive,” I said.
“Carnally and romantically, darling Peter.” Her smile broadened “And girls like me weren’t supposed to think such things, let alone let themselves be enchanted by strange men. My parents chased him away when they caught us talking, but somehow, I knew he’d find me later. After several nights of sneaking away to meet with him, I broke the rules and gave my body to him. I told him I didn’t want to get married and move into a strange country with a man I barely knew. Sebastian offered to rescue me. You can imagine how.”
Her comment stood, without me feeling the need to grant it acknowledgment. As she swallowed the last of her wine, she placed her glass onto the coffee table in front of us and settled back into place. “You have to understand that things like premarital sex weren’t our only taboos. Death is a deeply spiritual and communal experience, and accepting an offer to die bordered on sacrilege. I struggled with how to respond. I wanted to be free and I knew to accept his version of freedom meant I turn my back on the only life I had ever known. When we made the exchange, I had to give up everything.”
“Sebastian had a dark sense of humor, though,” she continued. “He took my blood and after I drank from his, he left me for my parents to find.” Ophelia giggled, almost in defiance of the horrifying thought. “He had been a Moor in Iberia before being turned and something about the religious conflicts he’d had to weather gave him a perverse sense of pleasure when he could anger superstitious people. Bast told me at first he had them bury me to teach me lesson, but I got the truth from him many years later.”
I laughed. “He let them bury you?”
“Yes!” She laughed once more as well. Her eyes widened, the tone of her voice becoming more animated. “He at least knew they wouldn’t cremate me – that was frowned upon, too – and when it came time for me to wake, he laid on top of my grave and called into the ground to rouse me. I don’t remember that part of it. All I remember is opening my eyes to darkness, being forced to break through the wooden coffin they’d placed me inside. While I beat at the wood, he dug away some of the dirt, but by the time I made it to the surface, I was dirty, bloody, and angry. I marched away from him and got as far as the other side of a field before everything washed over me.”
Her hands made the motion of waves coasting over her body, her eyes closing in a form of relish. “That first night – that first moment when you feel the breeze and see the stars as a vampire – is euphoric. I smelled something delicious in the wind and that was what stopped me.” Her lids lifted, gaze finding me again. “I had always loved the night, but this felt like I had been adopted by it. I had lost one family but gained an entire world. Sebastian walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, and as he held me, he asked, ‘Isn’t it marvelous?’ And it was. Even the moments I’ve regretted the things we do to survive, all I’ve had to do is step outside and breathe the night air and it calms me.”
I found myself mirroring her expression. “You make it sound so poetic,” I quipped.
“Because it is. There will be a moment when you will find yourself awash the feeling. Or see your beloved embracing the night. And you will not be able to stop yourself from marveling. Open yourself up to it, because you’re a maker now, my anomaly. You have to love this life in order to enchant somebody else with it.”
Her admonition contained both a sobering truth and a whimsical notion, something I carried with me until I settled in to sleep. When I rose again and after I had done all I needed to prepare myself, Robin and Ophelia joined us in our room, the three of us studying the beautiful woman I intended to wake. Monica had been shaped into a wholly different creature, her teeth that much sharper, her skin that much more porcelain in appearance. She needed to feed, I heard Ophelia explain somewhere in the background, her voice disconnected and distant, not belonging to the moment I inhabited. I found myself examining every detail as if I hadn’t rested beside her each morning since returning to Toronto.
It did not feel as though a week had passed since the confrontation in Italy. That world felt a thousand years removed.
“Brother?”
Robin’s voice brought me back into reality. I lifted my head to look at him, seeing him standing on the other side of the bedroom, content to be a silent member of the jury as he had been at my awakening. The comparison left me with mixed emotions I pushed aside, my will set toward embracing a sober form of whimsy. Regardless, Robin appeared to sense the slight unease he had caused and relaxed his posture. “It’s time,” he prodded.
I nodded and focused on Monica again. Taking a steadying breath, I exhaled it as I settled onto the bed beside her, taking one of her hands in mine. Clasping it between both of my palms, I allowed any other thought I had within me to settle, my mind becoming blank, save but for one intention.
When I was ready, I felt for the mental bond we shared. Tightening my grip on her, I spoke with authority, as I had been instructed to do. “Wake, Dearest,” I said. “You have slept long enough.”
As the first sparks of consciousness jumped from Monica, every ounce of worry I had harbored for seven days leaped to the forefront, reminding me of the uncertainty of what laid in wait simply in being a vampire master. “Yes,” I coaxed. “You need to rise.” I could not help the addition my thoughts added to it. ‘Gods, I have missed you so much.’
A moan passed through her lips, bearing a protest in the way it had been issued. Monica shifted on the bed, her shoulders squirming as her fingers tightened around my hand. I inched closer and bent to bring our faces closer. My voice lowered to a whisper. “Very good. Come now, you are almost there.” My alternate personality – whose presence had been alert from the moment I started – paced within me, just as anxious. I felt both of our voices in unison with the next words I said.