“I know the price. I have thought about this a long time, contemplated everything. It is what I want.”
“Lu Sin, there must be something else, anything else we can do. This–this can't be the only solution.”
“Maybe not, but it is the solution I have chosen.”
“No. I could not do it; I haven't got the strength to go through it all over again.”
“Do you want to watch me die?” she asked, a hint of acid in her tone.
I cringed, closing my eyes against the sight of her, trying not to picture her face taken with the Change upon it. She was older than those I had last changed, and she was asking where they had not … but I could not help but think of Rene and Racelle and the others … of the terrible day I made monsters out of children. I shuddered. “No, I do not want to see you die. You are a very dear friend; without you I could not have made it through these last years. I love you. That is why I say no.”
“Are you afraid that I will turn out like the one who kills your children, this Hunter who terrifies you?”
Visions of my lost enemy filled me, but I shook my head. “You are nothing like him. It doesn't work like that. It doesn't change your most basic person … it changes your body. The soul usually follows the body, or the body doesn't last long. The need and the hunger and the killing is what changes them, not the act of creation alone. You are strong, and would probably be a very restrained, very decent vampire…if there is such a thing.”
“And yet you refuse me.”
I nodded. “Yes, I'm afraid I do. At least for now.”
It was silent in the carriage then, cold and quiet and it hurt me to see her withdraw into herself. When the time came, she exited the carriage and waited for the arrival of the agent who was escorting Joy. I knew how it must seem to her, but I was convinced of the morality of my decision. I would do anything I could to keep her alive, hold back nothing in her treatment, but I simply could not do as she asked.
Then, Joy was there, gently opening the carriage and climbing in carefully. She was a remarkable young woman, I could see it in her every movement, even before she opened her mouth to speak. White-blonde curls framed her angelic, pre-pubescent face, those sapphire eyes that had so enchanted me sparkled with excitement, fear … who knew what else. She closed the door behind her and I heard Lu Sin climb into the driver's seat. The cold silence radiated to me even from there. I returned my attention to Joy. “I am Amara,” I said. “Welcome, Joy. I have anticipated this day for a long time.”
“I thank you for your kindness, ma'am. I have no family left to me. Your invitation is most kind.”
Kindness hadn't been my reason all those years ago. Selfishness might have been. I had wanted her desperately then, and a quick check of my self-control revealed that I still did. “You are most welcome among my family. I apologize for Francis, she has been up long past her bedtime and as excited as she was to meet you, she couldn't stay awake. There will be time enough later for introductions.”
We spoke then of her long journey, of her parents. I was taken wholly in, just as I had been when I had held her in my arms as a baby. She was intelligent, and well-schooled. She smiled frequently, which made my heart palpitate with desire and caused me to inhale sharply from time to time. By the time Lu Sin stopped for the night to rest, I was nearly undone. I left Joy sleeping, and Francis in Lu Sin's care, then disappeared into the night to try to put myself back together. When I returned, Francis played on the ground outside the carriage and the others slept inside. I called Francis up into the driver's seat and started us off again. It was better to get back to the comfort of our home where my control didn't unravel so easily.
When at last we arrived there, Joy seemed tired by her ordeal. Lu Sin had withdrawn further from me. Francis alone seemed untouched by the journey. As excited as she had been when we had left, she took Joy by the hand and led her to the rooms we had prepared and introduced her to Miss Willy. I fell into bed as morning approached. The air in the house seemed newly strained, burdened with a new presence, and the fading of an old one. I reached out a thought to Lu Sin, but she had completely hidden herself away from me. It hurt me that she didn't see my point of view, hadn't even tried, but I knew it was the fear of dying and not any genuine hatred of me. That helped a little. I listened to the sounds of Joy and Francis getting ready for bed and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 21
Those first days were strained and difficult. The pleasure of Joy's company was contradicted by the tense pain of Lu Sin's illness and anger. I was torn between them, between the return of the intense longing that had accompanied Joy's presence since that first moment when I saw her in her mother's arms and the desire to comfort and console my friend and companion. Joy was forced to accept her new surroundings, her new place in the world, and our darkened schedule. She hadn't yet recovered from the shock of her parent's passing, a fact I discovered only nights after her arrival when I heard her sobbing quietly into her pillow. In that moment I knew my downfall, my error in judgment in bringing her to that place of solitude. I had come to terms with the old desire I bore for Lu Sin, the craving for the exotic mix of old and new within her. I had grown complacent with Willy, despite my unease with her. I had nearly forgotten what it was like to be around any other humans.
At first I could do little more than watch from the relative safety of the doorway, but her pain was so tangible, filling the small room though her tears were nearly silent. Then, I broke. Something inside me collapsed and I went to her, wrapping myself around her small frame, holding that fragile existence so close to me that her presence filled me. Her tears became my own, her heartbeat swallowing mine. I was as close to the end of myself as I may have ever come. My soul echoed her sobbing. My breath came raggedly as my control unraveled and I ached inside for wanting her. Then, she turned her tear-stained face to me, and those incredible blue eyes starred into mine for so long I thought she must surely see me the way she did once before. She blinked and it passed and she was just a frightened, lonely child.
“I miss them so,” she said in a small, small voice.
“I know you do, Child. I know.” I took a deep, unsteady breath and kissed her cheek. “Get some rest. I know this hasn't been easy for you.”
I tucked her back into bed, kissing her forehead and feeling the Change just beneath the surface, waiting, wanting. “I'll be out in the kitchen if you need me.”
She nodded and I nearly flew from the room. My senses had been heightened by the whole episode. I could feel Lu Sin's illness rising up from her silent bedroom and I wondered why I hadn't sensed it before. I knew Francis was up and about her studies with Willy, the forest outside our small home was crawling with warm-blooded animals. For the first time in years I did not go to the lab, I let myself out the front door and took to the night. I fed well that night, roaring my self-loathing into the skies as I drank.
I was only slightly sated when I returned. Lu Sin scowled at me, as if she somehow knew where I had been, what I had done. Joy and Francis were at play on the floor. I settled in to read from some ancient text. My eyes would flash between them, my friend and my surrogate child. I forced myself to remain calm, to stay seated in my chair with my book and my flickering flame. I forced myself to ignore them, to not notice the scent of them haunting me. Willy joined us after a time, and we gathered to discuss the progress Francis had recently made and the addition of Joy's needs in our curriculum. When it came time, at last, to send the children off to bed, I nearly burst from my chair. Francis whined that she wanted another hour to share with her new found friend, but rather harshly I denied it and sent them both to wash up and change into their night clothes.
Dawn was still two hours off, but I tucked them both tightly in and returned to the kitchen where Lu Sin sat contemplating a cup of tea.
“You had become complacent,” she said in way of observation as I sat beside her. “You were not expecting this reaction.”
“No.” I couldn't argue.
It had been years since I had allowed myself any company but herself or Francis and then Willy. “No, I had no idea it would be this … difficult.”
“I did.” She didn't look up, just sipped at her tea. “I knew where this would lead many, many years ago. You do not listen when I speak of such things, as if I would not understand.”
“Do you? Do you think you could understand?”
I glanced aside at Willy who was cleaning up her books. She looked back at me, a measured glance, as if weighing me against some standard I knew nothing about. Once her belongings were gathered, she nodded and retired from the room.
After a long silent moment Lu Sin looked up, her dark eyes meeting mine squarely. “You desire her, crave her … the same as I do you. Do you think I could not understand merely because I am mortal?”
“It is … nothing you can fathom now.”
“But I could, if only you would give me the one thing I have ever asked for.” She finished her tea. “I will be gone from your life before too long, but until then I am here. I will see to it that you feel every minute of my suffering, taste every ounce of my fear. In the end, you will bring me to you, or cry as I die in your arms.”
She left me then, with the empty teacup, my aching cravings and the approaching dawn. It was the first of many days when I would get little sleep. It would take a few weeks for us to adjust. Joy did it gracefully, filling spaces I hadn't noticed before in our routine. As she moved into place, it seemed Lu Sin stepped away, mentally if not physically. Joy and Francis became fast friends, melding into a sisterhood that might not have occurred had they actually been blood relation. They rose together in the early afternoon to study their lessons and played in the evenings. Francis bloomed in the friendship and I watched Joy relinquish her pain a little more with each passing day. It seemed as if I alone was stagnant, unmoving as the world and my existence shifted around me and all I could do was hold on to keep from getting knocked aside.
Joy had become a delightful young woman, and her parents had used their gifts well enough to her benefit. If I closed my eyes I could still see her, as she was in that nursery where I would watch her sleep. I wondered if she could still see through to my soul the way she had then, if she knew what I was and accepted it unquestioningly. I watched her as though she were an angel come to visit earth, those blue eyes hypnotizing, enticing. I was smitten with her. I would watch her with Francis and feel the desires that had brought me to her first. I sometimes cried into my pillow with emotions that had left me with the coming of my daughter. Through all of it she remained bright and beautiful, and blissfully unaware of my desire.
Lu Sin, however, was very well aware, watching me as I did Joy. Her anger was cold, her resentment of my immortality and Joy's youth resounded silently around her. I do not know how, but she made good on her promise, haunting my dreams with her coughs and shallow breathing. Her ever-weakening voice echoed in my head. I knew without seeing her how much she hurt and where. For a long time, I held myself from her company, afraid that I might cave completely if left alone in her presence for long. Eventually, I turned myself to her, and began the work to mend the wound I had created. Now that I had been made aware, I could see the signs of the sickness in her body, the weakness that was taking the place of her constant strength. I saw the graying pallor of her skin, the touch of age in her smile. She withdrew from my every gesture of comfort or aide, yet she remained, a constant shadow in the rooms infused with the sunlight of Joy and Francis at play.
There were times when her anger at my continued refusal of her request was enough to make me doubt myself, to question my right to refuse. She had, after all, done more for me without asking anything in return. I was, truthfully, being selfish, and self-righteous. I can see that now. I tried to make her understand, but that only seemed to make it worse between us. Eventually I abandoned the effort and settled for taking care of her physically.
Doctors came and went as I searched for one who could offer some hope, some shred of cure. More than ten made that long trip up the mountain, and they all left with the same response … a year, two at most. Nearly a year passed from the time Joy came until the last of the doctors left. I sank into my chair at the kitchen table, weary and frustrated.
“Your friend is very ill,” Willy said, watching me from the doorway.
I looked up and nodded. “She is … and there is nothing to be done.”
She sat next to me, her soft brown hair a cascade over her nightdress. “In my family there is a tale of an ancestor spirit who comes, when all other hope has fled. He transforms the ill, the dying, and they live again.”
Her hand touched mine and I looked up, suddenly seeing something in her face I hadn't before. My hand raised to touch her face before I realized what I was doing and pulled it back. “You remind me of someone,” I said distractedly, my eyes tracking a movement outside the window. “Dovan.”
The skies had only been dark a short while, so his presence surprised me. He opened the door with a smile, which dimmed only slightly when he spotted the tutor. “Am I intruding?”
I smiled. “Never, please come in.”
“I brought something for Lu Sin.” He held up a canvas bag. “From Justine, for the cough.”
I got up to take it, brushing his hand in thanks. “She will be grateful.” I followed his eyes to Willy, who stood slowly, her eyes wide. “Oh, Dovan, this is Miss Willemenia Brockard, the girls' tutor. Miss Willy, this is my grandfather.” I said it without thinking. He looked no older than I, but she only nodded.
The two of them regarded each other for a long moment before she finally moved. “I have seen you before,” she said simply, though her expression told me that she didn't mean on one of his other visits, which usually happened long after she had gone to bed.
“Have you?” His voice was pleasant, but guarded.
“I was very small, and my father was very ill. Mother told me I imagined you.”
“Perhaps you did.” Dovan smiled.
“Perhaps.” She looked to me with wide eyes, then shook her head. “I should be in bed. Goodnight.”
She left the room in a flutter, leaving Dovan and I alone. “What was that about?” I asked as I took the herbal remedy he had brought from the bag.
“She … is kin,” he said almost incredulously.
Kin. I couldn't begin to count the generations that separated us or fathom the odds of having invited someone of Dovan's bloodline into my life. “Kin?”
“Brockard … is one of the family names I can still trace, a direct line back to Gregor's children.”
“And her father?”
“A disease of the lungs. I offered him an ending of the pain, death, quiet and peaceful with his family, or life away from them. He chose to die.”
Dovan looked profoundly sad. I sat at the table. “You would have changed him?” I could feel Lu Sin, suddenly awake and hovering just outside my awareness.
“Yes, he was so like your father. I couldn't stand to see him in that pain.”
We were silent a moment, letting his words lie there on the table between us. “It explains much,” I said finally. I had never craved Francis and Willy felt much the same. Indeed, even my affection for Dovan held no darker motives or desires. They were my blood. Kin.
“And what of Lu Sin?” he asked.
I sighed. So pointed the question, so uncertain the answer. “She wishes … she's asked me to make her one of us.”
“Will you?”
“I—I've said no. You'll notice I have little success in mothering the monster.”
“Moira is not a disaster.”
“No.” I had to concede that point. “She is most remarkable.” I looked away. There was a part of me that wanted it, to hold Lu Sin to me forever. “Would I not be a hypocrite, to give up killing to salve my conscience only to unleash another killer?”
We were quiet again for a time after that. When Lu Sin's coughing called me, he said his goodbyes, promising more medicine on his
next visit. I brewed the tea Justine had sent and went in to sooth my friend's cough. When she at last had breath to speak, she seemed concerned. “Dovan was here.”
I nodded and tucked the blankets around her. “He was. He brought the tea.”
“His visit troubled you.”
I sighed and sat beside her. “He has a way of asking difficult questions.”
She nodded. “He is a very interesting man.”
“You should rest.”
“I am not tired. Would you read to me?”
I conceded and retrieved a volume of poetry I had read from when last she had asked. I settled into the soft pillows of the chair beside her bed and opened the book. Lu Sin sipped her tea and closed her eyes, drifting on the sound of the words. I read until she had fallen asleep, before retiring to my own bed, where I lay in the long daylight hours without sleeping, listening to the sounds of my home, the beating of four hearts.
Joy easily filled in the places in our lives that Lu Sin once filled, taking over the chores Lu Sin could no longer perform and spending time with Francis that I had never realized Francis needed. Francis had only ever had Lu Sin and myself as companions. I began to realize how cruel that had been for her as I watched her with Joy. It made me smile the way Francis would light up as Joy told her stories of her life before coming to our little cabin. Francis had only been to town on the day Joy came, while Joy had lived in great cities and attended schools with other children.
I had been selfish, hiding us away as I had. I owed my daughter more. Admitting that made me reconsider Lu Sin. My selfishness had cost her too. I tried to compensate by spending more of my time with my dying friend. I wanted her to understand that I truly did love her, and I was finding it increasingly hard to be around Joy. The long neglected controls that had governed so much of my existence before had nearly disappeared completely and it was all I could do not to go to her in the early hours of evening and bring her to me. Instead, I spent those hours with Lu Sin, fighting the urge there as well, but it was not so vehement a battle. There it was a battle of logic against sympathy, not passion.
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