"How did Mary McCree end up with it, then?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. I only know… when I drained you for the Turning, that you were meant for me."
"You're a piece of work, you know that? I can't respond to that assumption. Bryan and Jenny don't even know that I'm… I'm… life challenged!" Fury whirled through me, a tornado of fear and anxiety. "Oh gawd. What about the honeysuckle thing?"
"You've claimed me." He shrugged. "It's a mark of possession. Any vampire who knows where to look will see the mark. If we don't bind, the mark will fade."
"My kids. The same thing happened."
"That is different," said Patrick. "They're mortals. You've marked them and they will remain under your protection for as long as they live."
God, that cut at me in a way nothing else could. My babies. My sweet mortal babies. I chewed on my lip and tried to settle my thoughts. I really should've studied the files about vampires and the Consortium that were in my PDA. I knew how to turn on the little machine and tap buttons with the stylus. But I hadn't used it for much other than a paperweight.
"What you want to know is not in there," said Mr. Mind Reader.
"I would like to kill you," I said cheerfully. "You brought a creature into our town that sucked the blood out of eleven people and brutally killed Emily. Shut up. I'm not in the mood to debate Lorćan's mental state." I paced. My flip-flops crunched on the gravel-strewn rooftop. "Then you inform us that you and your pals have been planning to take over Broken Heart for a while. And now you're telling me that I'm your mate."
"All that is true." He looked at me. Do you know he had the cajones to look all cute and vulnerable and sorry? Goddamn it. I wanted to kick his ass.
"I can't deal with this," I said, my voice tight. I felt the press of tears behind my eyes, which was weird because I couldn't freaking cry, and a riot of emotions squeezed my insides. "It's just too much. Limit reached. Got it?"
"Yes." He looked as if he wanted to touch me, to comfort me.
I couldn't bear that restrained tenderness… so I rose into the air and flew away..
Chapter 9
I landed on my driveway next to the RV that still housed Damian and crew. I had yet to actually meet Damian, but maybe his ability to remain out of sight was part of his talents as a security specialist.
I trudged up the driveway, my thoughts weighing heavy. I was tired of thinking and of worrying. That's what I did all the time as a mother and I just wanted to cave in on myself. Sometimes, when I was alone, that's exactly what I did.
With the night stretching ahead of me and no other distractions, I thought I might clean out the basement. It was filled with leftovers from life with Richard. After he moved out, I had vacillated between angry bursts of energetic cleaning and packing his shit and long sad bouts of curling up in bed and weeping. I managed okay with the kids. At least, I thought I had. It was hard on them to lose their full-time father. They watched a man they once believed was devoted to his family turn his love and attention to a woman who was not their mother.
I had to give Rich some credit. He tried to maintain his relationship with Jenny and Bryan. And if I was honest, he tried to be more than civil with me. But how did a dad who used to come home every night and spend every weekend with them keep connected with children on a two day a week schedule?
They knew that Charlene's baby was their half brother. Richard and I argued a lot about that connection. I still resented that he'd made a baby with Charlene. A baby who would never know his father. That thought stopped me cold. I stood at the concrete path that ribboned to the front porch, staring blindly at the recently trimmed hedges. Rich Junior would never know his daddy. Not ever. At least Jenny and Bryan had memories and pictures and keepsakes. How cruel and petty of me was it to deny that little boy the only other link he might have to his dead father?
Wasn't this a night for crappy revelations? I had to think about the situation. I caused the people in my life no amount of frustration because I was, as my mother said, "one who mulled too much." I liked to roll things around in my head before I made a decision.
I walked up the concrete path. My gaze traced the fancy scrollwork that looped the eaves. That porch, with its flower boxes and big white swing, was the reason I fell in love with the house. It was a Victorian two-story, one that had been lovingly cared for by the previous owner. Like most houses in the neighborhood, it was almost 100 years old. Most of the residents were from generations of people who lived and died in these homes. Most of us could trace back our roots to the town's beginnings. My ancestor Sean McCree had been one of the first farmers to sow wheat and slop hogs and eke out a living from the Oklahoma soil.
Now, these houses were all sold to the Consortium and would soon be home to the first generations of who-knew-what.
I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Or about being one of the who-knew-what things that now resided in Broken Heart.
Lingering on the steps, my hands still clutching the gorgeous, deadly swords, I thought about being a vampire. I didn't know a whole lot about my "condition." I hadn't really had time to figure out what I could or couldn't do. Hmm. The teeth thing… could I make that happen without being hungry? Yeah. Figuring out how to extend those fangs would be an excellent way to scare mortals into doing my bidding. I chuckled at the idea of forcing some schmuck to do dishes and mop floors.
"Okay, fangs… activate!" I ran my tongue over my teeth. No go. "Uh… extendeth thy fangs noweth?"
Still fangless. I thought about what it was like to chomp on Sharon's neck, the way her warm blood tasted of chocolate. Oh… ecstasy, your name is Sharon.
I felt a rush of heat through me. I felt the slight splitting of my gums, the extension of the sharp incisors. I poked at the fangs with my tongue. Ouch. Those babies were sharp.
A gasp interrupted my experiment. I met the horrified gaze of my daughter, Jenny. Framed in the front door, her face pale and her eyes wide, she held Mr. Fluffykins in a tight grip. The tattered bunny only made the journey from her dresser to bed when she was having nightmares.
"Jenny," I said. "Are you okay, honey?"
She whirled around. The door thudded shut behind her.
Crap. Crap. Crap. I entered the house and hurried up the stairs. This isn't how I wanted to break the news to my children that I was not only dead, but that I was on a blood-only diet.
Jenny wasn't in her room. I didn't think she'd be in mine, either, but I checked. Nope. That left the Pit. I tossed the swords onto my bed and hurried out. As I approached Bryan's closed bedroom door, I heard my daughter crying. It sounded like she stood next to me sobbing rather than ten feet away in a room with a closed door. It was easy to eavesdrop on their conversation.
"Mom's not a monster," I heard Bryan say. "She's grumpy sometimes—"
"Not like that!" cried Jenny. "She's a real monster. That's why we never get to see her. Those people have us locked up and will never let us go and will use our brains for experimentation and… and… they killed her and put a robot in her place."
I heard Bryan sigh. "I thought you said she was a monster."
"She's a robot monster."
Okay, seriously. Jenny was not watching the Sci Fi Channel anymore. I paused. Then again, I was getting ready to admit that I was something far more frightening than a robot or the boogeyman.
I knocked on the door and opened it.
Jenny was sitting on Bryan's bed, her back to the wall, her knees drawn in a protective way, clutching Mr. Fluffykins in a death grip. She was dressed in her Powerpuff Girls nightgown. Her bare toes, recently painted blue, peeked out from under the hem. Bryan sat next to her, patting her knee, his sleepy expression a mixture of concern and annoyance. He looked up at me, obviously relieved that I had arrived to take his sister off his hands.
"Sheesh, Mom. She's totally freaked out. Says you had red eyes and fangs and swords."
Crud. She'd seen the swords. I swiped my tongue across my upper teeth, relieved to note th
at my incisors had retracted. I glanced in the mirror above Bry's cluttered dresser. My eyes weren't glowing red, but they did look haggard.
"Jenny, baby. C'mere."
"No!" She scuttled closer to her brother.
Bryan looked down at his sister in surprise, and then at me. "Stop being a butthead," he admonished Jenny, but without his usual rancor. His arm went around her and she huddled against him, her accusing gaze locked on to me.
Knowing that my baby was scared of me ripped me to shreds. I willed myself not to cry. Even without the ability to produce tears, giving in to the desire for a nice, dry cry would make the situation worse.
"I'm not a monster," I said, in a reassuring voice. "Or a robot." I smiled.
Jenny did not smile back. "You're not my mommy."
"Jenny!" She flinched at the censure in my tone.
Damn it. I tamped down on my temper. She was scared and lashing out. I was the adult here. I was the protector. "I have to tell you both something. Something very important."
"I want my mommy!" wailed Jenny.
Bryan's eyes were as round as plates. He absently rubbed his sister's shoulder. He looked confused and no longer sure that his sister was telling a tale. I noticed they'd both managed to squirm farther away from me. My heart rippled with pain. I was a vampire. I couldn't change that fact any more than I could change the color of the sun. An object I would never see again with my own eyes. God in heaven. What had I done?
Nothing. You had no choice. I gave you no choice. Tell them that, love. Tell your children I am the monster.
Patrick! For once, I wasn't irritated that he was in my mind. I felt comforted and strengthened and I realized that he was somehow infusing me with those feelings. Do you really think I would tell my babies this whole situation is your fault? The next time I see you, I'm slapping the shit out of you.
He laughed. The low sound filled my head, a joyful echoing that made me feel better. The next time you see me, I will give your hands something more pleasant to do.
A sensual thrill zipped up my spine. You're so annoying!
You have no idea. I felt his playfulness shift into a solemn tone. Tell your clann that I am sorry about what happened. I am sorry that they will be in pain and discomfort as they deal with their new lives. Even so, a thaisce, I will never be sorry that you are mine.
Hel-lo. Who says I'm yours?
"Uh, Mom?"
Patrick had closed his mind to mine. One day, I was gonna figure out how to do that, too. He poked around enough in my head without me knowing it.
I looked at Bryan and found him staring at me with a funny expression on his face.
"You look different," he said.
"I know." I heard the pounding of his heart and of Jenny's. Those little organs were beating a mile a minute. Fear rolled off my kids as they gaped at me.
"I'm not a monster," I said, looking at Jenny. She met my gaze, but still seemed distrustful. And she was so scared. Oh sweet baby girl. It's okay. "But something very bad happened to me… and because it did, I've changed."
Bryan frowned. "You mean literally, right? Not emotional, but real. Something physical."
I raised my eyebrows, surprised at Bryan's intuitiveness. And that he knew how to use "literally" in a sentence.
The time had come to tell them the truth. I squared my shoulders and looked at Bryan and Jenny. Then, I admitted, "I'm a vampire."
Chapter 10
Bryan and Jenny looked at each other, then at me, then at each other again.
They burst into laughter.
While this reaction was certainly preferable to screaming and wailing, it was disconcerting. And weirdly unsatisfying.
"I'm serious. I'm a vampire. I'm even one of Seven Sacred Sects."
The tongue twister brought on fresh gales of merriment. Bryan brushed his sister's hair behind her ear. "See, Jenny? She's just playing a trick on us."
For all her giggling, I noticed that Jenny hadn't moved away from her brother's protection. I was nonplussed. How did I convince them I was a vampire without scaring the crap out of them? How did I tell them I was one of the undead… that I would never grow old and never change appearance? That I would outlive them?
These worries cut me to the very quick. Maybe my kids sensed the change in my mood because their laughs faded.
"Were you really sick, Mom? Are you sure you feel better? You look so pale."
Bryan's solicitous comments were surprising. In typical male fashion, he eschewed illness, particularly mine. Like most men, Bryan chose to growl and fuss rather than nurture and show compassion.
At a loss to explain everything that had happened since Wednesday night, I decided it would be better to wait for the Saturday night meeting. At least then all the parents would be together with Consortium members… and Patrick would be there. I wouldn't be alone, floundering my way through explanations.
"Why don't you two go back to bed? We'll talk about this tomorrow."
"Will you get up in the morning with us?" asked Jenny in a polite little voice she reserved for Sunday school teachers and boys who doubted her ability to throw a baseball.
"No. I… uh…"
"Dr. Stan is taking us on a picnic," she said in the same awful tone. "Damian promised to catch me a frog."
I heard her message. If you won't be there then how can we count on you? You've let us down. How can we trust you? You've abandoned us, just like Daddy.
"Jenny, cut it out. You're acting stupid." Bryan yawned. "I'm going to bed. Get out of my room, squirt."
"I want to stay with you."
"No way."
"Please, Bryan. I don't want to go out with… her."
Hurt was a lightning strike in my heart. I tried to tell myself she was just upset, but still… I was her mother. She should never doubt my love. Never.
Before I could decide what to do, I felt an alteration in the air. A silver mist formed, shimmering into a neck-biting gorgeous male. Patrick. He stood next to the bed, looking at the children. "You will not remember me," he commanded softly. "Neither of you saw your mother this night. Sleep, clann, and enjoy wonderful dreams."
The kids closed their eyes, slumped against each other, and fell into an immediate, deep sleep. Sheesh. Why hadn't I thought about doing that? I had the ability.
"You're still getting used to your powers," said Patrick. "Once you learn how to use your new skills, they will become second nature."
Patrick looked at Jenny and to my amazement, my little girl rose into the air, Mr. Fluffykins dropping from her loose grip. As she drifted toward me, Bryan sprawled onto his stomach and snored lightly.
I wrapped my arms around the floating Jenny and buried my face into her hair. Terror ripped through me. I never wanted to lose my children. How did you survive such a thing?
Day by day. Moment by moment. Sometimes, you do not get by at all. You wish for death. You wish for a second chance. You beg God and bargain with the Fates and in the end, you understand that your heart will always feel empty, that your soul will never heal from the wound.
Oh, Patrick.
He looked at me, those terrible memories still in his eyes, and offered a small smile. "It was hurting you to talk to your children. It was not possible for you to enlighten them and protect them."
Patrick's gaze caressed Jenny's face. "Aine had seen her second winter before… ah, before she left this world. For her birthday that year, I carved her a horse from a leamhán sléibhe—a Wych Elm."
"She wasn't your only child?"
"No, but she was my only daughter. My sons were older." He looked at me. "Three. I had three children."
Patrick had been a father. And he still mourned his babies. My heart broke for him and I wanted to weep.
"I don't need your tears, love." His fingers brushed my cheek. "But I thank you for your grief, for your understanding. Go on, now. Put your daughter to bed."
"Will you stay?"
It's not wise to stay near the one I want so very m
uch and yet cannot have.
He glimmered silver for an instant.
Then he was gone as if he'd never stood there.
For the first time in three days, I tucked my little girl into bed. It always amazed me how the mundane details of life were the ones that meant so much.
Her room was tidy. Jenny was naturally fastidious, which meant she never had to be told to clean her room and she always had an opinion about the cleanliness of other rooms.
I pulled the pink bedspread up to her chin and stroked her alabaster cheek. There was nothing in the world more enchanting than a child asleep. Just like there was nothing in the world more frustrating than a child awake.
After I made sure her glass of water was full and the night-light was still on, I retrieved Mr. Fluffykins from Bry's room and left the stuffed bunny near Jenny's shoulder.
I resisted the urge to climb into bed with her and cuddle. Both my kids were affectionate, though Bryan often pretended to merely tolerate hugs and smooches. But day by day they needed me a little less. I felt that separation keenly and yet, I also encouraged those seeds of independence. Reluctantly, I might add.
I kissed Jenny's forehead and left her bedroom. I wandered downstairs. I no longer felt like going into the basement to purge the boxes gathering dust. Did vampires have garage sales or give stuff to Goodwill?
Probably not.
Restless and bored, I flopped onto the couch, and reached down to grab the remote from the coffee table. Instead, my hand glided across the parchment pages of an open book.
A book that was not mine. It looked like a medieval text—the kind only seen behind glass in museums. Legends of the Seven Ancients, Ruadan the First was written in calligraphy at the top. Around the edges of the story were beautifully inked pictures of creatures I'd once thought were mythical. The writing was precise and straight—the hand of a thoughtful man. I traced one of the creatures—a male fairy with gossamer wings who wore a green tunic and a mischievous smile.
I'm the Vampire, That's Why Page 8
