The Vampire's Retribution, page 13
Celia blew out a long, slow breath. “You’re talking days of writing, Dad.”
“I have a notebook on the table waiting.” He pointed to something leatherbound, the size of a steno pad.
“What if he, you know, gets too antsy, and—”
“You’ll think of something, honey, perhaps guide his mind to focus.”
Celia leaned in closer to him. “What if Michael wakes up?”
“After that childish tantrum this morning, I’d venture to say he will be out like a light for hours.”
Alana gave her a bright smile. “I’ll be one floor down, Celia B. Just send me one of those psychic mini-messages you’re so good at. I’ll be here in two-seconds flat.”
If they could pull this off, it just might help.
****
Alana kissed her zia on both cheeks and stayed in her comfortable hug for a long minute. The gentle smile didn’t leave Zia’s face as she went back into the kitchen to bring a pitcher of homemade iced tea to the dining room table. She filled Alana’s glass.
“How is he today, cara?”
“Doctor Chamberlain said the infection is completely out of his system. Thank you, thank you so very much.” She sipped the sweet tea, refreshing and aromatic. Sitting down, her aunt patted her hand. “He’s asleep. They, uh, got him showered and in pajamas—”
“Oh, mamma mia, so that’s what we heard earlier?” Zia leaned back with a laugh. “Celia and I were in the middle of a very interesting conversation about the gift of healing.”
“I’m curious, not to mention embarrassed. Why didn’t you tell me you knew about him?”
“I know he is a legendary vampire. All Georgians do. The subject of his conscience, his ability to control the beast-within… It has been documented since the Georgians first sensed an angel’s intervention with him well over a century ago. When I touched his son, I sensed something more.” She shook her head, “Lukas is very troubled.”
“I know. But our—"
“When I held Michael, his connection to you became crystal clear. I saw into his soul.”
“He saved my life many times.”
“Ah, but I read your heart. He hurt you. He hunted you.”
Alana looked away. “I pushed. I forced him to face something beyond his control, and he couldn’t stop. Neither could I, and to be honest, I didn’t want to.”
“What we do in life, the decisions we make, change us. But everything happens for a reason, cara, everything. Love is very real. The desire to protect and defend has taught him the difference between selfishness and selflessness. Perhaps his devotion to both of you will be his salvation. Only time will tell.”
Her aunt stood. “Come with me to the kitchen.” A large pot sat on the stove. She lifted the lid to stir it.
“Celia said you were making him something, but vampires don’t—”
“Don’t normally ingest food. Yes. I know. But this will nourish him.”
Totally curious, Alana searched her eyes, a shade of gray so uncommon, hoping to know more. Her anxiety was rising by the second. “Will you assist Dad with the Council. Can a meeting happen soon?”
“Giovanni will call a special meeting.” She shook her head as she tapped the wooden spoon against the rim of the pot. “Evil never rests, cara. None of us can see it clearly, but we feel it.” Then her expression changed as she replaced the lid. “Now, tell me more about him.”
Where do I begin… with how I knew I loved him? With how I avoided him after that September night? With the truth, she told herself, only with the truth.
****
One floor above, Michael stared into the darkness of Alana’s bedroom. The doctor’s accusations rang true. Two centuries of killing. His to own. What he’d done to Alana. His to own. Miles’s accusations rang true as well. Turning to the sorcerers who had held his son captive instead of throwing himself at the mercy of the Georgian Council to beg their help?
His to own.
Pain pounded through every inch of his body, yet he couldn’t move. Guilt choked his reclaimed soul, yet he still existed. So many truths, truth upon truth, is too hard to face.
He stared into nothingness…
The courtroom is packed. Hot sun streams through the windows and makes this place unbearable. Spectators line the walls, demanding justice. The guards remain unseen, but I know they’re here, and I can’t escape. I am shackled to guilt. Fear grips my gut, wishing the streaks of sunlight can inch towards me to end it all.
This is like a circus with accusations being shouted by one and all. Guilty. Merciless. Deadly. Immoral. Words strung together to form fractured sentences… Kill the killer! Let him burn! Give him the stake!
What I did cannot be undone… the drink and drain… violated innocents.
The dark seer appears in a mist before me. My blood is on her tongue. “You took him from my body in the passageway. He was born to be my gift to the sorcerers. Born from your dead seed. Born to destroy you!”
“I could not create a child, yet he took his first breath in my arms. They will never take my son from me again,” I reply.
“Wait and watch,” she shrieks before disappearing in thin air.
I turn to the crowd behind me. My faceless victims are faceless no more. I recall each and every kill; each and every deadly pursuit.
I see my son behind them all, my reason to continue this existence… to save him.
But justice will be served. The rule of life is to accept one’s death.
My beautiful Guardian appears, strong and serene. She stands before me with my love imprinted on her soul. Does she know how much I love her; treasure her? I do not see the stake before it sinks deep into my unbeating heart.
And I am dust and bone at her feet.
Drenched in sweat, gasping for an unnecessary breath, he closed his eyes. His conscience was a first-class author spinning tales of guilt and death.
“Dear God, what have I done?” he whispered.
Chapter 19
A Hard Night
Alana was close to exhaustion. It was late afternoon when she entered her home, put the heavy pot on the stove, and sank into the leather sofa in the living room. She closed her eyes thinking, how remembering it all drains you… and now Zia knew everything. Earlier, sitting with her aunt, memories had sputtered out of her like the changing tempos of a Classical sonata. Each memory like its own melody to be mastered.
The annoying sound of a tapping pen against paper continued to interrupt her rest. She rubbed her eyes, then forced them open. Lukas fidgeted next to her adopted father at the dining room table. Often punctuating his tap-tap-tapping with curses. When his fist pounded the table, she thought, oh no, please no, he wouldn’t dare crank himself up again…
“I hate this! It’s like friggin’ busy work an old man substitute gives ’cause he can’t teach! Fuck it,” the teen spit out. She knew her adopted father’s depth of patience. It would take more than curses and staccato taps to get a reaction.
“Please continue,” he said without an ounce of annoyance.
“Fuck no! You just thought up this stupid shit because I wanted to watch another movie. Like there’s anything cool to do in this lame-ass place.”
Looking for a reason to throw a punch? Not going to happen. But some action on her part was required. Pulling off the couch, she sauntered over to them to stand behind Miles with her arms folded across her chest. The boy actually had the nerve to rudely sneer.
“Great, a Guardian for backup. This friggin’ sucks!”
And then it happened. Faster than the speed of light. Shooting through the air, the notebook missed her father’s head by an inch. A beautiful favorite vase shattered on the hutch. A split second later, his good pen was imbedded deep in the table’s exquisite wood. Instead of an apology, a snicker and another sneer lit Lukas’s face as he pushed off the table just out of her reach. Miles sat back and pulled off his glasses, actually glaring at the kid. Her focus switched from the pen to the perpetrator. “There’s barely an inch visible.”
“Yeah. It’s deep,” he stated like he was proud of what he’d done.
“Celia and I gave Dad that pen for his fiftieth birthday. And that vase was my favorite.” Seeing a twitch, she quickly added, “Don’t even think about making a run for it.”
“Yeah? Why? You think you can catch me?”
“Oh, I know I can, buddy.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed.
Her adopted father shook his head. “You will get yourself into trouble with this attitude, young man.”
Lukas’s blue eyes flashed defiant, his face scrunched and mean. “Get real. You can’t do anything to me.”
She stepped toward him, and as he backed away, Alana pulled the pen out of the wood and gave him a slight grin. “Maybe yes or maybe no. But your father’s going to hear about this. And when he does, you’d better watch your bratty little butt.” She slapped the pen down on the table, never taking her eyes off Lukas, whose cheeks began to redden. “I know Michael very well. My guess is you can forget about a time-out. Nope. I’m thinking more of a hands-on, old-fashioned approach to bad behavior. You should be getting that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach right about now. Don’t you agree, Daddy B?”
“I do, honey.”
“And never forget. I’m just as strong as you.” She picked up the notebook, brushed off the shards of the slain vase, and placed it on the dining room table.
Her adopted father wore a stern expression, one so rarely seen. “Sit down, Lukas.” He complied…without attitude. “Pick up the pen and finish this paragraph. Or the Guardian may want to hold you down—while I paddle you myself.” When Lukas started to write, he put his reading glasses back on and pulled his laptop closer. “Honey,” he said, “come look at this.”
She leaned over his shoulder. It was an email from Philip.
“GREETINGS and I hope you are enjoying this vacation. But it’s best to stay out of the sun. Not much happening. May is turning out to be a peach of a month. Did you hear? A small fault line did some rumbling four days ago. No people injuries. One evil idiot still missing. Name sounds like dirt to me. Kisses to all. Keep an eye out for Mail from the city.”
Her eyes opened as wide as quarters. Her heart raced. “Oh,” she said matter-of-factly. “How interesting.”
The laptop closed as Miles said to Lukas, “Put the pen down, please. Wash your hands and then go check on your father, and please close the door behind you.” For once, he appeared to do as he was told.
She motioned Miles to follow her into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. They’d also keep their voices low as she reached behind and locked her hands to the edge of the counter.
“I’ve got to contact the Council immediately.” He paced the limited space.
“This is a disaster waiting to happen.”
“On many fronts.”
“I didn’t know if he was going to go into the bedroom or run.” She blew out a breath. “Dad… the lines about dirt and mail from the city—”
“I know who’s missing. It isn’t good.” She sucked in a quick breath as he added, “I must get to the church. Giovanni must be informed. Tell Celia, honey.”
She turned off the faucet, heard the apartment door open and close.
Her head ached; her heart continued to race as she approached the sunroom.
****
Minutes before the bedroom door opened, Michael had studied the insulting thing at the foot of the bed. A renewed look of disgust crossed his face. Rage had him unable to focus for hours. “What a self-righteous quack. There was no way in Hell I’ll roll around like some kind of human invalid. Demon specialist my ass—he’s a fucking fool, and he can shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. Just stake me now. I want this over. I want this finished.” He closed his eyes and slowly, carefully shook his head. “I’ve screwed up my son’s life. Now I’m in her home, in her bed, screwing up her life as well. She must hate me.”
He had let out a groan when the door opened and then slammed shut. His son walked to the bedside table and turned on the lamp before flopping into the upholstered chair looking awkward and edgy. “No she doesn’t.”
“I’m sorry you heard that,” he whispered, wondering if his son had heard more than just the last sentence. “My relationship with Alana is complicated. We have a history—”
“I don’t like it here. When can we leave?”
The slight flush on his son’s face, the bitter tone confused him. “Why? I’m sure Alana and Miles are—”
“They’re making me write stuff down. Stuff like hunting you before I forgot. Mister B says I was programed.”
You were, he thought. Memories haunt one’s soul. He could relate. But his son looked ready to run, fidgeting in the chair and breathing hard. Michael patted the bed. “Come and sit next to me. It’s hard to turn my head.” Lukas blew out a breath but complied, staring at his flexing hands, and lost in thought. “Look at me, son.” He didn’t. Trying to engage further, he added with tenderness, “I’m truly sorry all of this happened. But we are safe here.”
“I wasn’t going to stake you in the passageway. I wanted to help you fight. I’m different now, you know?”
“I didn’t think everything would come back to you. It’s a lot to handle.” His protected life with Helena. Taken by the sorcerers. A maniacal year, which led to a father’s disastrous intervention to give his son a life less dangerous. Had it all been pointless? Had it further complicated matters?
“They killed Helena. They want you gone, too.”
The lack of emotion was disturbing. “There’s a lot to talk about. You have questions. I know. And we’ll have time now because you’re safe here. You’re with me.”
“Helena wasn’t my mother.”
“No…she wasn’t—”
Lukas’s head jerked, his eyes narrow and empty. “Who is she? My real mother. And why do I have these abilities? It is because of what you are… because you can see your soul?”
He ignored the first part. “I’ve controlled the beast within me since 1890. Why Helena allowed this, I have no idea. And a vampire cannot create life, but here you are—”
“Is my birth mother a witch with powers like Celia?”
“Who told you that?’ His son just shrugged, and Michael gave a sigh. “She was a dark seer. Didn’t use her powerful abilities to do good the way Celia does.”
“Was? Is she dead?”
“Yes. She is,” he offered, trying to shift, which caused irritating discomfort, yet only managing to move an inch. Pain etched his face, and his son studied him.
“Want help?”
“You can’t move me—” Lukas already had his shoulders, pulling him up until his back hit the wooden headboard. Indeed, his son had enhanced abilities. His mouth quirked into a slight grin. His “thank you” was cut off by, “So who killed her?”
Rather stunned, he said, “Lukas, this is all very complicated.”
“You said we have time to talk now.”
“Right, but—”
“You did, didn’t you?”
“In a way… and to save you, yes. I killed her.” His son needed more. Deserved more because of all he’d been through in his short, troubled life. “I… I hadn’t seen her for many months. I never knew she was pregnant. She found me in the passageway. Her skirt was streaked with blood, as was her face and hands, and she was in labor.”
He vividly recalled the shock of her saying the child about to enter this world was his. The fact that she appeared no longer fully human, well, he kept that to himself. “She was skin and bone, except for her belly, and she looked beyond insane, threatening to cut you from her womb, swearing that she would give you to the sorcerers. I wouldn’t let her.” He paused, thinking of the right words to use. “She lunged at me with a knife in her hand but instead, she fell to the ground. I got down next to her, and she slashed at me until I wrenched the knife away. All this time she continued chanting words I didn’t recognize, didn’t know or care to know. The only thought I had was to save you. I pulled you out of her body and breathed life into you.”
“Then you killed her,” his son said in a whisper.
“You were alive. That’s all that mattered.” The dark seer, the hateful witch she was, had given up her humanity, given her soul to the sorcerers to create a child. To groom an innocent child to destroy him. His own child! It filled him—both then and now with incomparable rage. May she burn in Hell for eternity.
Lukas’s slender shoulders slumped as if his body could collapse into himself. This unexpected confession grew harder by the minute, the chasm between them harder to bridge.
“You were my child…and that meant you weren’t safe.” Wrapping his fingers around Lukas’s thin arm, he tugged with all his strength. To Michael’s surprise, his son’s head came to rest on his chest. And he was grateful to God that his son had not pulled away. He cleared his throat as raw emotions filled his words. “I wrapped you in my shirt, absolutely shaking with fear. The portal opened, and Helena reached for you, I placed you into the arms of an angel, but I didn’t want to let go, son. My heart cracked into a million pieces as if I were a living, breathing man. Helena was a good mother to you, wasn’t she?”
Lukas nodded against his chest. He couldn’t feel it, but he saw it, and Michael’s eyes clouded once again. “I never stopped worrying about you. I’d go back to that alleyway, hoping the portal would open and Helena would let me—”
“I was eight when I saw you,” his son mumbled.
The math was simple. The same year when his beast-within resurfaced to hunt Alana. “How could—”
“I didn’t tell Helena, but I found where she kept you. But you looked different…yellow demon eyes. Long fangs and growls that called to me, like in my head. You sniffed the air and howled like crazy when you saw me. But I couldn’t look away.”
It was as if someone had punched him square in the chest. After he tried to kill Alana, Helena had pulled him through the portal. To relearn how to control the beast-within. He had no idea where the portal had landed him. On the other side of the world? Or simply a few hours’ drive from the city? How long had it taken him to regain control? Days? Months? And how could he not remember seeing his own son? Another item to add to my own private guilt-list.
