Baby girl,
I am sorry you are reading this, because it means I didn't protect you and your mother well enough. There's so much to tell you and I don't know what you have already learned, but I can only guess you know about them and about us. What we are, what we are born to do, what we must be, in order to carry out our task.
But, just in case there's a little confusion there, I'll give you a heads-up on your immediate family.
Don't trust my remaining brothers, nor I guess their kin. They have chosen a path I cannot condone and now they are after us. They mean you harm, baby girl, they will not stop, I fear you will have to stop them and it breaks my heart not to be the one to teach you how.
But I have faith in our goddess, she has told me of your path. I lay my daughter in her hands, a more heart wrenching task a father could surely never face.
I used to believe, as do my brothers, that we could not rejoin our kindreds, that we must deny them all we are. Please forgive me this mistake, it was before you were born, before you were even dreamt of. I was young and naïve, my older brother Jeffrey was still alive and my world was untainted by loss.
Things changed. Jeffrey died one month past his 25
th
birthday, I met your mother and fell in love and wanted a baby with her so much, we tempted fate. Of course, once I laid eyes on you, there was no going back. And then she came, our goddess, and told me all.
Dear Lucinda, forgive me for bringing you into this world. Forgive me for abandoning you to your fate. I love you more than life itself and can only hope that your mother and I have given you enough of our essence to take you through what lies ahead. I pray we have helped you become the sort of woman I can only imagine you will be. Fierce, strong, caring, committed, but above all else, forgiving – of us and of yourself.
You will have to face far greater hurdles than we have. I can only imagine what they will be and if you are anything like your beautiful mother, it will be hard for you to face them, on more levels than one. Be true to yourself, baby girl, but do absolutely anything you must to succeed and survive.
We will be waiting for you in Elysium and we will be proud of whatever you have become.
Your father, with love and hope for eternity.
I don't know how long I sat there staring at that letter, the words becoming blurry, melding into each other, like one long swirl of ink, a decoration on the page, making no sense nor providing any beauty. My tears had long stopped flowing, not too many having made it to the paper, thankfully not blotting out the meaning behind each hastily written word.
My father had not tried to kill us, as my cousin Tim had made me believe. He had been raised to think the Nosferatu should be denied our powers, but he had come to his own conclusion, irrespective of his family's wishes and he had fled. Well before I had been born. I think this, at first, was the one thing that touched me most. I had truly feared my father was the cause of my mother's death, that he had not wanted me, that he had designed my demise. But, it was not so. He loved me,
more than life itself
. Oh, how I would treasure those words.
And then there were the words about what I must become, what he pictured me to be:
fierce, strong, caring, committed
and of course, the most important, well the most important to me right now,
forgiving.
Forgiving of them and me. They didn't need my forgiveness, there was nothing to forgive at all.
But me?
Yeah, I could do with my forgiveness. I started laughing. I thought my Aunt could help me, because she is so down to earth, so quick to put you in your place, but she hadn't helped me the way I had thought she would. She had just handed me a connection to my parents, having guarded it as per their instructions for the past 25 years. She had done her part, I wouldn't have understood half of my father's letter had she have handed it to me earlier. I had to be ready to ask, it had to be now.
And now that I had read their words and understood who they were, when I had needed them so much, it was... a help. A definite help. I had my Nosferatin blood from my father, which made me
what
I am, but I had my human blood from my mother, which made me
who
I am. I realised then, that there were two parts to me. The hunter, the Prophesied, the
Saviour of the World
, the side of me that needed to do whatever was necessary to succeed. And then there was the human in me, the compassionate, the caring, the committed and loyal, the side of me that would have to forgive the hunter, that would have to forgive me.
That was it, wasn't it? That was what I was looking for. This is who I am. Is it OK? Could I live with this person?
I thought about that for a moment, noticing the sun was just setting above the implement shed, my father's quad bike coming back up the dirt track towards the house, making dust and debris scatter behind him, catching the very last of the sun's rays for the day. I'd missed the scones and coffee, my mother hadn't disturbed me at all, she'd let me have my moment with my biological parents, she'd let have this time alone.
So, now that I had, was I OK with who I had become?
Yeah. Yeah I think I was.
I folded the letters carefully and placed them back in their respective envelopes, sliding them in my pocket for safe keeping. Dad's bike came to a stop at the front of the house, the silence after he had switched it off making everything else seem so loud.
Especially, the sound of my kindred's greeting, his deep voice matching my father's in pitch, but making me feel so much more than just the sound of someone's voice should ever do.
Like... shit, my dad doesn't even know about him yet, what the hell was he doing here so early?
I jumped off the bed and was running towards the front of the house even before my father's voice came down the hall. A familiar shout, one I had always associated with a right royal telling off.
“Lucinda!”
Oh shit.
I came to an abrupt halt on the doorstep, just managing to keep myself in the shadows as I watched the horror scene before me unfold, unable to make my legs carry me any further and have to then join in on the debate.
Michel sensed I was there of course and sent me a harsh thought:
What the hell?!
But he still couldn't see me, I was staying well and truly out of it for now.
“Mark! Calm down. Don't scare the poor man to death.”
Funny mum, really funny. Not that she knew how much of a comedienne she was being.
“Are you telling me you knew she was married, Maggie? And that it is OK?” My father shot back. I could see the veins sticking out on the side of his neck. No doubt Michel could too, I dreaded to think what he thought of
them
.
“I found out earlier today, but I didn't make a scene about it.”
“I'm not making a scene,” Dad answered automatically.
“You are making a scene. You're being entirely too precious, in this day and age, it happens all the time.”
Always ahead of her peers, my mum. Go girl!
“Not how we have raised her, Maggie. Not how we have raised her.”
He was starting to wind down now, so I ventured out onto the porch. The fireworks had subsided, I might not get singed after all.
“Hey, dad,” I said softly.
He glanced my way and for a moment I thought I'd misjudged the finale and the artillery shells were still about to explode, but he took one look at me and his face crumpled. “You OK, pet?” he asked softly, but it was Michel who was beside me in an instant. I don't even think he realised he vamped it there. My parents, thankfully, missed the flash, too busy taking in my puffy face and red rimmed eyes.
“
Ma douce
, what is wrong? Why have you been crying?”
Clearly my dad was impressed with Michel's attention of me, because a small smile had crept into the corners of his mouth.
“I'm OK. I've just been reading some letters from my mum and dad, my... biological mum and dad that is,” I answered, accepting Michel's arms around me and his kiss against my forehead.
I chanced a look at my father, the smile had gone, a look of understanding was now on his face. The same look my mum had worn when I arrived and she'd spotted the
Sigillum
and my ring and I'd told her I needed to come home.
“Well,” my dad announced, clearly starting to feel uncomfortable at Michel's familiar mannerisms around me. “I'm starved, what's for dinner?”
He walked past us, patting me on the shoulder. He'd normally hug me, but Michel wasn't letting go. That could backfire on him, I thought, but he's a big boy, I'd let him dig his own grave there.
My mum smiled at Michel, I think she was kind of in awe of his good looks. I couldn't blame her, he is bloody handsome and otherworldly.
“Well come on in, Michel, the storm has passed.”
I was relieved my mum had made the invitation, I wasn't sure if I could have managed to slip one in undetected. Michel, being a vampire, needed to be invited into a mortal's home. Mum had just covered that nicely.
We ended up in the lounge, like any family home there were knick-knacks and treasures dotted here and there, and the obligatory yearly photos of their daughter scattered about the room. Michel immediately took to surveying my childhood photographic history, a small smile playing on his lips.
I was not a cute child, so I knew what that smile meant. He was bloody laughing at me, the bastard.
I am not laughing at you, ma douce, you were adorable.
Yeah right.
I followed mum into the kitchen and let Michel front dad alone. Served him right for laughing at me when I was only five.
My mum glanced up and smiled. “You all right, love? Did it help?”
I sighed. “It was hard, but it helped. Thanks for keeping them.”
She came around the bench and wrapped me in her arms. “We love you, Lucinda. So much.”
One final squeeze and she was off to check on the roast. Lamb. Yum yum. I had no idea how Michel was going to cover not being able to eat. This should be fun.
“Why don't you go wash your face, I'm sure you don't want Michel to see you in such a state.”
I laughed. “Mum, he sees me first thing in the morning, trust me, he's seen worse.”
She smiled, a little awkwardly. “If I were you, I wouldn't mention that just yet to your father. Give him some time to get to know the man first, OK?”
She had a point and now I suddenly wanted to make sure Michel was OK in there alone with dad. I mean, I hadn't heard any broken glass or shouting, but there were silent ways to kill.
I quickly washed my face in the laundry off the kitchen, not sparing enough time to go all the way to the back of the house to the bathroom and then hot footed it into the lounge.
Michel and dad were sitting in armchairs drinking whiskey, having a very normal, very civilised conversation. Bloody hell, he'd glazed him, I was sure. Michel flicked me a glance and raised his eyebrows at me. I slowly made my way over to the settee next to his chair and sat down. Trying to determine if dad was under a mind spell or not. He seemed normal, a little cantankerous, but starting to relax. Another whiskey or two and he'd be downright jovial.
He was firing questions at Michel. What did he do for a living? How had he met me? What sort of house had he provided for me? Where was he from? Did he have a criminal record?
“Dad!” I interjected. “He is not a criminal.” A blood sucking vampire, but not a criminal.
Michel stifled a laugh at my thoughts.
“No one drives around in the type of cars I spotted out the front and the type of the suit your man is wearing without bending a few financial rules,” my father shot back.
Jeez, when did he become
Columbo
?
“That's ridiculous, dad. Being rich is not a crime.”
He just humphed, clearly wanting something to complain about.
“What about grandchildren? Are you going to give us some of those?”
Oh bloody hell. “Um... I don't think...”
“I do hope so, Mr Monk. I would love a mini Lucinda to dote on.”
I shot Michel a look, he just smiled all bright eyed and bushy tailed.
At least we could try, ma douce. Every day perhaps? Maybe even twice per day? I can be quite accommodating should you feel the need to try.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and stood up to mix myself a drink. Dad was clearly too distracted to offer.
“How long are you staying then?” Dad was running out of ammo, thank God.
“We can't stay dad, Michel has a plane to catch.”
“You go away often then? Leave our girl on her own?” Ah bugger, he'd make a weapon out of anything.
“No dad, we usually travel together. This is different.”
“I'd keep an eye on him, Luce. If he starts travelling too much on his own, I'd have him followed. You never know what these Frenchmen get up to.”
Oh, for the love of God. “Dad,” I admonished, flashing an apologetic look at Michel.
He just looked amused, but didn't bother to reassure my father, I noticed.
Just then mum came in and announced dinner was ready. Saved by the rack of lamb.
Dad led the way, but Michel pulled me back before I made it through the door.
“
Ma douce,
” he whispered in my ear, wrapping his arms around me, his breath hot against my skin, sending a delightful shiver down my body. His own stirred in response. “I cannot partake of the meal, either I make an excuse now and leave, or you allow me to glaze them.”
Shit. My parents. Glazed. I was about to say you'll have to leave, I really couldn't stomach invading my parents' minds to that extent, but instead I just whispered, “Do it. Glaze them.” I couldn't believe my own ears, but the thought of Michel leaving now without me, was too hard to even contemplate. I needed him, I couldn't let him go just yet, when in a few hours he'd be flying away from me for real.
“I will take great care,” he murmured and led me into the dining room.
I don't know if Michel took the liberty of glazing my father into being a more hospitable host, but as the dinner progressed - my parents and me eating succulent roast lamb and vegetables, Michel's plate remaining conspicuously empty, well conspicuously empty to only me - my father started joking with Michel, sharing little stories about my childhood and generally doing all those things parents are so not meant to do and embarrass you in front of your new partner.
Michel, of course, lapped it up, flicking me the odd look of mock shock at certain escapades I had gotten in to when younger and then at times giving me one of his rare smiles. Those smiles he keeps hidden, doesn't let any of his line see, the ones that would make them think he was something other than the big bad Master of the City, something quite lovely and kind and utterly gorgeous. The ones that he brings out only for me.
My mum and dad were sold. With the minimal amount of vampire mojo, Michel had won their hearts. And I had found a modicum of peace before the storm ahead. I'd reconnected with my parents, had a better understanding of where I had come from and what I had meant to them and also how to handle what I had become, without losing sight of me.
And Michel, had the chance to meet my family, gain an inordinate amount of ammunition, with the plethora of stories about my childhood, to last a lifetime and then some of hassling the crap out of me. He was one very happy vampire. And I was pretty happy too.
I even got that hug my father had missed earlier and another from my Mum, before we left. My mum slipped a hug in for Michel too and my dad proffered a hand shake, so all in all, despite the unfortunate start to the evening, it was a success.
And now it was time to leave. Which meant it was that much closer to Michel leaving for the States and for God knows what would happen then.
I followed Michel's Land Rover back to his vampires' safe house nearby, with a heavy heart. The night was passing too quickly and from being so happy in that lounge after dinner, watching my parents accepting my kindred, I was now almost in tears again with the thought of being separated from him so soon.
On entering the house, Michel threw the keys to my car to Erika, who flashed out the door with a wink as she passed.
“Where's Erika going with my car?” I asked.
“She will meet us at the airport,
ma douce
, where you can have your baby back again. Erika will join me in America, her knowledge is too valuable to leave behind.”
“But why is she taking my car?” I didn't really like sharing my car, it
was
kind of my baby as he had insinuated and if she was taking my car, then how were we getting back to the city?
He turned towards me, having looked at a few messages left by Erika while answering my question and pulled me into the circle of his arms.
“There are only a handful of hours left before I must leave and I intend to spend them with you in my arms.” He nuzzled my ear, adding a little nip at the end of his sentence.
“How will you manage that and get us back to Auckland?” I breathed, already losing myself to his touch.
“Dennis will drive us in one of the Land Rovers and you and I shall be undisturbed in the back.” His fangs scraped down my neck, making me collapse into his hold.
“Michel,” I managed, with a little dignity too I might add. “I am not having any hanky panky in the back seat of a Land Rover while one of your personal guards sits in the front.”
Did he think I was totally friggin' unable to stand up to his advances. Hell, no! I was not going to be the talk of the rest of the line. Well, any more than I already was, anyway.
He just laughed, his chest rising and falling in a lovely rumble against my body.
“He will not watch, nor hear, nor smell, vampyres are capable of switching off all senses and using only those that they require at any one time. He will drive and not be aware of the back seat at all. I have already commanded it so,” he promised in a low whisper against my skin.
“I... I can't Michel.” I shook my head to emphasise. “I just can't do that.”
“Oh, my dear, I think you can. You most definitely can.”
I doubted it, I really did, even as we slipped into the back seat of the car and Dennis slid in the front removing the rear vision mirror from the windscreen and starting the vehicle up. No conversation, no glances our way, just an intense focus on the road in front of him.
Just about as focused as Michel was on me right at that second. His lips all over my face, my neck, down to my breasts.
“Michel,” I begged. “Stop this, you're embarrassing me.”
“He can't hear us,
ma belle
.”
I didn't believe him.
“Dennis!” Michel practically shouted over his shoulder. The big vamp in the front didn't even flinch. “Satisfied?” he murmured whipping my T-Shirt off over my head, then swiftly making quick work of my bra and pushing me back against the rear seat, then climbing up my body to lavish attention on my nipples.