come back inside. “No, Christian’s not my creator, but he
watched me for a very long time. He used to come and
watch me through the windows. He was always so pretty,
so transparent, he was as an angel should be. I never
actual y thought he was real. I had a bad addiction to
alcohol and drugs back then. Every day my angel would
come back and watch over me. I thought maybe I was dying
and he was coming to lead me into the afterlife. He was
there to take me away from that place.
“Then one day he wasn’t there anymore and she came to
take me. She said she had to change me. She told me it
would make me better, but it did not work. So she left me
alone to die. I lay forgotten in the room and then I was free.”
Charm patted Christian on the arm. “For a while I was lost
and then I went to the park to wait for my angel to come find
me again. I had heaps of time to reflect on it al since the
drugs and alcohol no longer worked on me.”
“Where were you?” Doyle asked.
It was Christian who answered. His face at first held
confusion but it slowly morphed into something Michael
couldn’t quite read. “She was in an abandoned factory on
Whitcomb Avenue,” he said quietly. “It burnt to the ground a
couple of years ago.”
“If it had been abandoned how did it burn to the ground?”
Kerr asked.
To Michael it seemed as though Christian was about to
run so Michael grabbed hold of his hand to make him stay.
“Because I set it on fire.”
It nearly kil ed Michael to see the pain in Christian’s
eyes. He pul ed Christian to his chest. This time, he would
not let anyone make Christian leave.
“I don’t understand,” Doyle said as he pushed his hand
through his hair. “Why?”
“I thought if I destroyed the place she got tortured in, it
would cure her. Every day I saw those people doing things
which caused her harm. They used her in every way
possible. I couldn’t let them continue to do it. I had to stop
them.”
Michael thought al the memories seemed to be fal ing
into place in Christian’s mind, things he had long forgotten,
but even now it seemed as if they weren’t whole.
“What happened to the one who created her?” This time
it was Kerr who spoke.
“I think I kil ed her.” Christian shook his head, “I think the
factory is where I did it. I burnt it down around her to make
sure she was real y dead. I think I was meant to be watching
her, but the first time I saw her she was in Charm’s room,
helping her stick the damn needle in her arm.”
“It’s the first time Charm acknowledged me and I knew
she real y saw me. After that day I became obsessed with
her. I came to watch Charm and I forgot about watching the
other. I was punished for my watching. It hurt so much and I
could not move for a long time.”
Pain washed through Michael as Christian shuddered
against him. “When I was able to be myself again, I took
care of the thing which had caused me so much pain. She
would never cause me so much pain again. Not ever!”
“Why were you meant to be watching her? How did you
kil her?” Michael’s hand gently stroked Christian’s back in
comfort as the others threw question after question at
Christian.
“I don’t remember. I just remember getting punished and
I think it broke something in me. When I could walk again,
when I found my sense of who I was, Kerr came for me and
I left. I never went back to my place of punishment until…
until Michael.” He pressed his face into Michael’s chest,
Michael wrapped his arms further around him.
Christian turned in Michael’s arms. “I am so sorry I did
that to you.”
Kissing him tenderly Michael said, “Don’t… I am here,
and we are together, and it’s is al that matters.” Michael
thought how even though his heart stil reeled at his
mother’s rejection, Christian needed to hear the little white
lie.
“Any clues which your old place may have contained
would have disappeared with Michael’s impromptu fire.”
Kerr seemed frustrated. And Michael could relate; they
final y seemed to be getting somewhere only to be knocked
back down. If what he had found hadn’t been such a total
shock he would have thought to look for clues, but at the
time his brain was tel ing him to destroy al the evidence
before someone else stumbled upon the horrific scene.
Another memory assaulted Christian and he pul ed away
from Michael to race to the attic. He might not be able to
remember what they wanted him to, but he did have
something they would want to see. Prying the boards from
the wal he extracted the file he had placed there years ago.
Running back downstairs Michael met up with him just as
he had reached the first landing. Christian threw him a
reassuring smile as they went back to the others, he
handed the file to Kerr.
“What’s this?”
“I made this way back when I was watching them. I
wanted to know who Charm was and I wanted to know how
she could see me. It contains details of everything I
observed about her.” Pointing to a name at the bottom of
the first sheet, he said, “It has the name of the one I kil ed.”
Ilana Yannis.
Flipping to the back of the folder there was another file,
this one was not about Charm. On the first page was a
photo of a very beautiful woman, and yet her face was hard.
“This is the one I kil ed. She was the vampire who
changed Charm.”
§ § § §
Locked in his room, Sebastian sat and tried to drown his
sorrows as he saw in Christian and Michael’s minds the
picture of his beautiful Ilana. In a blur of tears his anger
returned to him tenfold, showing him just why Christian
needed to pay, and if it meant going through the family he
now surrounded himself with, then so be it.
Sebastian threw his ful glass of whiskey against the wal .
Why did alcohol stop working after they had been
changed? Right now he needed to get rol ing around the
floor drunk.
§ § § §
“What are you going to do about your mother?” Charm
asked, changing the subject.
With her question a harsh pain exploded through
Michael’s chest. Honestly, he didn’t real y have a clue what
he was going to do.
“I guess I’l go and see her,” Michael sighed. It hurt to
think he would lose his family for the third time in as many
months.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Christian asked
him. Shaking his head, Michael kissed him on the
forehead.
“No, I think this is something I have to do on my own.”
Michael accepted the comfort Christian offered him and
he listened to the words of advice everyone gave, yet deep
down he knew that in the end, it would be
up to him to
convince his mother he was not the monster she thought he
was. So many thoughts ran through his head as he walked
toward his parents’ house. So many things he wanted to
say to her. So many things which he needed to say, to
explain everything, but when their house came into view
they al slipped away. Even though his mother’s car was
parked in the drive, she refused to answer the door when
he knocked. He knew his mother had a right to her fear, but
he also knew if she would take the time to listen to him and
real y hear what he was saying then maybe they could work
everything out, so he didn’t have to lose them again. At
least he hoped they could work it al out.
“Mum!” Michael cal ed through the wooden barrier.
“Mum, please let me in,” he rested his forehead against the
door wil ing her to respond. “Mum, this is stupid; just open
the damn door.”
“Go away, you are not welcome here.” Her words were
harsh and they cut deeply. “You can’t come in unless you
are invited and I don’t invite you in.”
“Mum! I’l break down the bloody door if I have to. I don’t
want to, but I wil . For crying out loud, Mum. I just want to talk
to you. Besides, I don’t need an invitation. This is my home
too, remember?” Michael took a step back as he heard her
release the deadbolt.
When she came into view Michael couldn’t stop himself
from bursting out laughing as she stood there with a
wooden chop stick pointed directly at his chest, her eyes
wild and frantic. The sad part was, he didn’t even know why
he was laughing. It just seemed ridiculous that his mother
was trying to kil him.
“I’m sorry, Mum. I real y didn’t mean to laugh, but it’s so
freaking funny.” Michael was about to take a step into the
house when she brought the tip of the chop stick against his
chest and applied the smal est amount of pressure.
Not giving her anytime to react, Michael’s hands were a
blur as he pul ed it out of her hand. “Do you real y want to kil
me, Mum?” He grinned at her look of surprise at losing her
weapon. “Just let me talk to you and if you stil want to stake
me,” he chuckled, “then I’l help you push the bloody thing
through my chest. I promise.”
Michael winced as she pressed her back against the
wal as he passed her going into the house. He stopped
momentarily to make sure she fol owed him to the lounge
room. “Where’s Gypsy?” He asked, suddenly realising the
house was way too quiet.
“Somewhere safe.”
Sighing in frustration, Michael watched as his mother sat
as far from him as she could.
“Do you real y think I could hurt Gypsy, Mum? How could
I, when she’s half of me? Do you think I’m capable of hurting
you or Dad?” He shook his head sadly. “Mum, I—”
“Why are you even here?” His mother seemed confused
by the way he was stil being so familiar with her. Maybe if
he had been honest with his family then she would have
reacted differently. Did she think he was only pretending to
be the son she had once loved beyond life? Did she even
realise he was exactly the same Michael?
“You’l always be my mother. I’m stil Michael. Do I act
any different? Do I look any different?”
“You’re not Michael. My Michael would never have felt
the need to lie to his family.” It came out as a sob and it
broke his heart. “My Michael wouldn’t want to be around
dead things. Even if…” Michael knew she was hoping
against hope he wasn’t the same as Christian.
Even as his own heart broke, Michael restrained himself
from trying to comfort her. “Technical y, yes he is dead
because he doesn’t have a heartbeat. But we stil breathe.”
He inhaled deeply indicating it to her. “Please Mum, I
couldn’t bear to lose you again. Please. I love you.” Michael
covered his face with his hands trying to push the hurt at her
reaction away.
Silently he swore as his mother gasped at his slip of the
tongue.
“How did you find out?” Michael asked quietly, and she
snorted at him in disbelief or maybe disgust.
“I saw him in those clippings — your Chris. So many
years and he is stil exactly the same, then I remembered
what Sebastian’s son looked like. I was surprised I didn’t
recognise him at first sight. Did you know what he was
when you first met? Did he… Did he?” her words trailed off
as she gestured wildly toward him.
“I didn’t meet Chris until a long time after I woke up —
not dead. ” Michael decided against tel ing her it was
Christian who had done this to him. “He real y is a good
man.”
“He’s not a man at al ! Apparently neither of you are. Do
the others know, or are you keeping them in the dark as
wel ? How can they stand to be around you?” His mother
snarled, yet her eyes stil held a different emotion. And
Michael knew she was fighting hard against her instinct to
mother him.
Michael nodded and winced as she inhaled sharply.
“They know.”
“Are they?” His mother couldn’t finish her sentence. Her
eyes were wild and her fingers dug into the arm of her
chair.
Nervously, Michael nodded again.
“You took your sister to a house where not one person is
alive. A house where al they want is blood. How could you
do that? How could you put her in danger? What if one of
them had of been… thirsty?”
This made al the pent up anger in Michael rise to the
surface. “Then they would have walked out to the kitchen
and fricken made a cup of tea.” Michael snapped as he
smacked his hand down on the arm of the chair with
enough force they heard the frame crack within. “Gypsy’s
family. They love her, I love her, and they love you and Dad.
You are the first family some of them have had in a very
long time. And how do you treat them? Like they are a
bunch of blood thirsty monsters that do nothing but kil
people.”
“Wel don’t they?” His mother threw her hands up in
disbelief, and it was then Michael saw the little piece of
doubt which he had lodged in her. She was having a hard
time choosing between her son being a monster and her
son being just that — her son.
This was turning out to be one rip roaring — albeit very
strange — argument. At least Michael could tel his mother
was starting to become interested in what he was trying to
tel her. She was beginning to see he was stil the same as
he had always been.
Again Michael slammed his fist down onto the arm of the
chair again and whatever cracked before now completely
broke in two. “No, Mum! We’re not murderers.” He thought
it best not to mention how this was only a recent transition
and stil had a few flaws that needed to be worked out.
His mother’s voice was returning to normal pitch and he
could tel she wanted to reach out and touch him in comfort
but restrained herself. “Then how?” Her eyes had lost some
of their wildness, now they were heading toward being
merely curious. “Is it like Angel? Do you drink animal
blood?” She relaxed slightly.
Sighing, Michael agreed, “Something similar.” It hadn’t
even occurred to him to forgo human blood; the very idea of
it wasn’t appealing. But if it helped her to think of them that
way then he didn’t mind. “Besides, we don’t need to kil the
things we feed from. No harm comes to any of them. They
get to go on and live their lives as if nothing has ever
happened to them.” Biting his tongue to make himself shut
up in case he broke down and told his mum the complete
truth – confessing was something he never planned on
doing – ever. His eyes burned and his nostrils flared, he
hadn’t fed in a while and his mother’s scent was real y nice,
it was beginning to make him dizzy. He would have to get
away from her soon.
“Are you hungry?”
Michael shook his head in denial. He didn’t want to
scare her again, not now she was final y starting to come
around.
“You want to know something that always confused me
about vampires? Why did Angel not eat human food, when
Spike clearly did? He was always going on about those
damn onion flowers.” His mother relaxed further and
Michael started to laugh.
“Spike and Angel are characters on a television show.
They’re not real. And besides, Angel always was a bit of a
pansy.”
In the next breath his mother changed the subject. “I can’t
believe you broke my chair. How am I going to explain how
it got broken to your father?”
Michael shrugged and grinned. “So Mum, where is
Gypsy real y?”
His mother blushed. “Your sister threw the mother of al
hissy fits and made your aunty Kay come and pick her up.
She isn’t talking to me.”
“Sounds like Gypsy.” Michael snorted and then winced
as hunger pains cramped his stomach.
His mother watched him intently. “You just lied to me. You
do need to feed?”
Michael’s hands had begun to shake. “Yes.”
“Do I smel good to you?” It was not said in disgust or
fear, for which he was grateful.
Michael shook his head in denial, but answered truthful y.
Rules Are Meant to Be Broken Page 26
