by Niranjan K
Mom chuckled. “That’s a very poetic simile, Eve.”
They were silent for a while, Eve checking the messages in her phone, and Mom reading a book. It was a comfortable silence, the kind they had been used to in Eve’s adolescent days. Before Shane died, before they lost Ray, before… Eve opened a game and started playing, not wanting to think of anything else.
She had reached the 20th level when the doorbell rang.
“Must be Dan,” she said without looking up as Mom went to answer the door.
“Dan has a key,” Mom said.
It wasn’t Dan as it turned out. It was Ray. He hugged Mom as soon as he entered, holding her and saying, “I’m sorry, Mom, I’m really sorry.”
Mom hugged him back, stroked his hair and whispered. “It’s all right, Ray. I’m sorry too that I made you feel unwelcome.”
“You didn’t,” he said, breaking the hug and sinking on to the couch and Mom sat next to him. “I was being a dick, and I’m sorry.”
“While it’s true that you were being a dick,”—Eve said, closing her game as she failed the level for the second time,—“there has to be something more.”
“Eve-” he started.
“Spill,” she said. “You need to tell us, Ray. We won’t know unless you do.”
He sighed, and rubbed his nose. “It’s just… it sounds so silly.”
“If you really thought that, it wouldn’t bother you this much.” Mom said.
“All right.” Ray said. “I was… I don’t know, feeling left out?”
“Because of Alistair?” Eve asked.
“Not just that,” Ray said. “Just… you wouldn’t let me stay with Dad, I mean, all of you keep taking turns and it felt as if I don’t even have the right to do that, as if because I fucked up once, I can’t be trusted anymore.”
“Oh, Ray,” Mom whispered, tears shimmering in her eyes and Eve wiped her own brimming eyes surreptitiously. There was so much anguish in Ray’s face and voice and she had never seen him like that except at Shane’s funeral. She rose and sat on the arm of the couch and hugged him, because she didn’t know what else to do. Ray hugged her with one arm, a bit awkwardly because of his position, and his eyes were wet too.
“I just felt like I wasn’t wanted.” he said.
“I’m so sorry,” Mom whispered as she hugged Ray too. “Oh Ray, it wasn’t about not trusting you… I just thought you could do with some rest and relaxation. You work so hard; I didn’t want to...” her voice broke and she sniffled.
“Mom, Dad’s in hospital, and dying. How can I relax?” he whispered. “What rest can I have?”
“I was being so stupid.” Mom said, leaning against him. “Will you drive me to the hospital tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Ray whispered. “I’m sorry I said I won’t come.”
Eve sniffled and lay her head against Ray’s. Mom chuckled wetly and scooted over and Ray slid to the side, making room for Eve. Even so, she almost fell on top of him and they all ended up in a fit of giggles and sniffles when Mom’s phone rang.
“It’s the hospital.” she said, her hands shaking and her eyes wide with fear as she answered. “It’s Dan.”
Eve could see it in her eyes, and she could feel Ray’s arms tightening around her.
Chapter Twenty-One
The funeral was meant to be a quiet affair, Daphne not wanting too many people around, and yet it attracted more people than intended. Alistair stood in the back, next to his own kind, allowing the hunters to have their space. Despite their friendship, there was still etiquette to be followed on occasions like this, at least publicly. He found his eyes straying to where Ray stood next to his siblings, head bowed, and tears on his cheeks. It hurt that he couldn’t go over and comfort him, not here anyway.
“I’m sorry.” Jon’s voice was startling, but Alistair had a lifetime of practice in hiding his surprise at the unexpected appearance of his brother.
“I didn’t expect you.” Alistair said, not turning his head as Jon sidled into place next to him.
“Oh, I’m not here for the humans.” Jon said. “I know you were close to them. I’m sorry.”
“He was a friend.” Alistair said. It wasn’t the first time he was losing one, and yet, it was something he had never got used to, unlike most of his kind. “But I would have expected you to laugh or make a joke or say something deprecating. Sympathy is a new look on you.”
Jon sighed. “I get why you think I’m not being sincere, but I am. I don’t give a damn for the humans. I never have, but you… you, I do care about.”
Alistair gave him a sceptical look, and Jon sighed again.
“Look,” he said. “I know I’ve been an ass in the past, and I mostly am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you… I don’t get your attachment to humans, and I probably never will, but that doesn’t mean I like seeing you in pain.”
“Thank you.” Alistair said. The other shoe was bound to drop soon, but till it did, he would accept Jon’s words at face value.
“That’s your one time fledge, isn’t it?” Jon asked. “He used to look like he wanted to murder me every time we met.”
“Most people you meet look at you like that.” Alistair said drily. “Must be your charming personality.”
“If it were not completely inappropriate right now, I would have cracked a smile.” Jon said. “You’re getting better.”
“Are you going to stay?” Alistair asked.
He hoped he would. As obnoxious as Jon was, Alistair knew that Jon needed him, that it was that need which pulled him into these visits. The bond between them was no longer there. One day Jon had decided it was too much bother. It had been four centuries ago, but it still hurt. He had understood Jon’s reasons for it. Jon had thought it was the bond that kept him returning to Alistair’s side, but Alistair knew different. Jon probably did too, though he wouldn’t say it out loud. This was the closest he had ever come to accepting that he still had human emotions left.
“Nope,” Jon said. “I came for you, and now that I’ve offered you my condolences and a shoulder to cry on-”
“You didn’t.” Alistair said, torn between exasperation and amusement.
“-which you manfully declined, I shall go back to my home to nurse my wounded pride.”
“Stop being stupid.” Alistair said, his eyes moving to Ray again, who was looking at him.
Their eyes met and Alistair forgot Jon for an instant. Ray’s eyes dropped and Alistair cursed the traditions that wouldn’t allow him to be at his side when he was hurting so much.
“On second thoughts,” Jon said. “I think I’ll wait around to pay my respects. It’s not like I need a plane to fly back home.”
There was something in his tone that made Alistair uneasy.
“Behave.” he said, his trepidation causing the words to be sharper than he had intended.
“Now Magnus is glaring at me,” Jon observed.
Alistair focussed on the service. The hunters followed no religious ceremony. Their dead were buried in deep graves, with wolfsbane covering the shroud that covered the corpse and rosebushes were planted on the grave. The cemetery was ringed around with ash trees and junipers, rendering all of the vampires powerless while here.
“Probably he’s glaring because you’re talking to me.” Alistair said. “He exiled me.”
“He what?” Jon’s voice rose and even some of the hunters turned to look at him and Jon dropped his voice. “Why?”
Alistair shrugged, not wanting to discuss Ray with Jon. “It’s private,” he said. “Besides, I can get him to change it.”
“I don’t care in either case.” Jon said. “Let them exile you, I’m not going to stay away from my brother because they said so.”
Alistair had known it, but he was touched nevertheless. Jon had always been a loner, never listening to whatever the council said.
We have that in common still.
There was movement among the hunters. It must be time to pay the respects. B
efore the casket was lowered to the ground, each hunter present would go to the casket and place a rose on it. In the centuries after the treaty, when vampires and hunters had started forming alliances and vampires had started attending funerals, they had also been allowed the same privilege except because they couldn’t touch real roses or go near them, they were given paper roses. The real roses from the casket were put into the grave before the vampires approached and the casket was lowered on to a bed of roses later.
It was Gary handing out paper roses to everyone today, and he paused a moment when he reached them, before taking two from a basket and giving them to him and Jon.
“I’m sorry.” Alistair mouthed.
Gary inclined his head in acknowledgement and his mouth quirked upward as he mouthed, “Welcome back.”
That was something. Gary wasn’t hostile either. The Jansens were as old a hunting family as the Haspels and Alistair had had alliances with them over the centuries, though he had never got close to any of them till Daphne had married a Haspel. Gary, as Daphne’s twin, had been a frequent visitor to the Haspels and Alistair had met him often enough for them to be, if not quite friends, something more than casual acquaintances.
“He still has a stick up his ass.” Jon murmured as Gary moved to the next group.
“Jon,” Alistair said.
“Mmm?”
“Thank you for being here.” He meant it too. Whatever anyone thought of Jon, Alistair couldn’t but be grateful and happy for his presence here.
“Shut up.” Jon said, sounding annoyed.
He was never comfortable when Alistair said things like that. Alistair looked down. He wanted to smile at Jon’s discomfiture, but it seemed wrong on an occasion like this. Ned was gone and-
Alistair swallowed around the lump that seemed to have taken residence in his throat. Ned was gone. It was too sudden. He followed the vampire in front of him to the casket, feeling grateful for his brother’s presence at his back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jon sat down on the couch, long legs stretched in front of him, and pulled off his tie. “Why does the sun have to be so damn hot?”
Alistair paused in the midst of pouring them drinks, amused. “Because it’s the sun?”
“Ha ha.” Jon said in a bored voice as he sniffed the air, and grimaced. “O neg? I hate that stuff.”
“Sorry.” Alistair said as he put the bottle back in the fridge. “They didn’t have anything else.”
“One would think with all your money, you could afford artificial blood.” Jon said, accepting it with a sigh taking another sip, grimacing further.
Alistair shrugged as he sat down opposite Jon. “I happen to prefer the real thing. And why not? It is so readily available these days.”
“I prefer the real thing too, but anything’s better than O neg. It tastes like shit.”
“Don’t be a baby.” Alistair took a sip of his own drink. “A bit of O neg won’t kill you. You’re an O neg yourself.”
“Am I?” Jon looked startled. “How do you even know that? There was no blood typing or transfusion when we were human, and I’m pretty sure I’d never needed a transfusion since I turned.”
Alistair took a sip of his drink and tapped the side of his nose with a finger.
“Oh, all right.” Jon said. “I do admit I’m not as good as you at that. I can’t tell the blood type from just the smell.” He took another drink muttering, “show off,” under his breath.
“It’s good to have you here.” Alistair said softly.
“Don’t get used to it,” Jon said. “I’m out of here come sundown. Just hate it when it’s that bright outside.”
“I know what you mean.” Alistair said.
Despite what the books said, sunlight wasn’t anathema to vampires. Still, it sometimes hurt their eyes to be out in the bright sun for long, and they got sunburnt far more easily than humans, though they healed from it far more quickly too.
“Your fledge looks good.” Jon said. “Not as good as he does on his show, but clothes are a good look on him.”
Alistair rolled his eyes. “Ray isn’t my fledgeling any more. And you make it sound as if he stars in a porn show. It’s a cooking show.”
“Ah, I should have known you’d be watching it.” Jon said.
“Any reason why I shouldn’t?”
“Nope,” Jon said lightly. “But after everything he did, one would have thought-”
“Jon,” Alistair said. “Just say what you want to?”
“Just that. After what he did, and now he’s not even your fledge, why do you care?”
Alistair shrugged. “That’s my business, isn’t it? I’d forgiven Ray a long time ago.”
Jon snorted. “I know that. Like that’s a surprise at all. But why?”
“Why I forgave him?” Alistair took another sip of his drink, frowning. He wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t even known he’d forgiven Ray till after it had happened.
“No, you dummy!” Jon sighed as he put his glass on the side table, still almost as full. “I can’t drink that. God, what I wouldn’t do for some art blood.”
“You’re taking this penchant for abbreviations to ridiculous lengths.” Alistair said, leaning back and closing his eyes, placing his almost empty glass down.
“Why did you turn him?”
Alistair’s eyes flew open. “What?”
“Why did you turn him in the first place? And don’t give me that crap about saving his life. I know you. You would have stood there and watched him die without turning a hair if you had wanted. You saved him because you wanted to. You turned him because you wanted to. But what I don’t get is why.”
“I didn’t want to turn him.” Alistair said. “And that’s the truth. I just...” He sighed. “I could have let him die. It would have been kinder in a way. But...” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it, Jon. I just didn’t want him to die. If you’d asked me before it happened, I would have said I would let him die and have meant it, but at that moment… I just didn’t want him to die.”
“So, you turned him.”
Alistair nodded. “And now I need another drink.”
“You do know that blood doesn’t make us drunk, don’t you?” Jon sounded amused.
“Nothing does,” Alistair said. “But it gives me something to do.”
The doorbell rang, and Jon lifted his eyebrows. “Expecting visitors?”
“It’s Magnus.” Alistair said, “I can smell the stench of that cologne from across the street.”
Jon rose and went to open the door while Alistair took another glass. He hoped Magnus wasn’t averse to O negative. He was an A positive, so perhaps not.
Chapter Twenty-Three
They sat in the living room, silent and pale. Almost everyone who had come for the funeral had already left, including the vampires. Magnus had murmured his condolences and Ray had told him that Alistair had broken the bond. Somehow that had seemed important.
“Two others have been killed.” Magnus had said softly. “I know this is a bad time for you. Should I ask someone else?”
That might have been the sensible thing to do, but sense had never been his strong point. “I'll be back in Miriwok by the end of the week,” he'd said.
How was he to break the news to his family? Mom hadn't even moved from where she had sat down when they had got home. Eve was sitting with her arms around Mom's waist and her head on her shoulder. Mom was patting Eve's back almost like a reflex action. Dan was sitting at the other end of the couch, his son on his lap, dozing off, and Dan had his arms around him, his head buried in the dark curls.
Brett was too old to sit on his father's lap, but Ray could understand Dan's need to have him there today. His eyes roved over his sleeping nephew. He was more like his mother than Dan, from the dusky skin to the curly hair and snub nose. He looked nothing like the three-year-old Ray remembered.
Nat sat between Ray and Dan, occasionally rising to answer the door or to give instructions in lo
w voices to someone, and answering calls to both her phone and Dan's in hushed tones. Anton was sitting opposite them, his boyfriend sitting on the chair next to him. They were holding hands, which made Ray miss Alistair.
Alistair. He hadn't told Alistair either that he was going back. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out. It was a message from Jerry
Heard the news. Getting on a plane. See you in the morning.
He sighed. Should he tell Jerry not to bother? Not that it would stop him. He sat back and closed his eyes.
“Are you all right?” Nat whispered. “Do you need to go lie down?”
Ray shook his head and gave her a smile. When had smiling become so difficult?
“No, I'm fine, I just-” he shrugged.
What were they doing anyway? Dad was gone, he was buried, and they had planted rose bushes on his grave as per hunter tradition. So, what were they doing now, sitting here as if waiting for something when there was nothing to wait for?
Mom stood up as if she could hear Ray's thoughts. “I'm going to my room,” she said. “I need to lie down for a bit.”
“Do you need something to eat, Daphne?” Nat was on her feet too. “Should I heat up some soup?”
Mom smiled at her, a curve of her mouth that made her look even sadder. “No, thank you, Nat. You put that boy to bed and go and have some rest.”
Rest. That sounded both good and awful at the same time. How could they even think of resting when it had only been a few hours since Dad 's funeral?
Dan rose with Brett still carefully held in his arms. “Good night, Mom.”
Mom left and Anton and Bruce rose as well. “We'll be heading to bed too.” Anton said.
Eve stayed where she was.
“You can put Brett in my room,” Ray said as he stood up and grabbed his coat. “I'm going out.”
“Ray, where-” Eve started, but Dan shook his head at her and said, “Be home before Mom's up.”
“Okay.” Ray said before he left.
