Page 2 of Silent Stalker
Before I’d been killed and turned into a vampire, I had eaten a lot of rare steaks, as it was among one of my favorite foods. Fancy sauces with unpronounceable names had been a staple, something my father had always insisted he couldn’t live without.
I feared what we would learn if we kept scratching at the surface.
Bracing for the worst, I left the bathroom, returning the blanket to the bed. Clarke adjusted Emerick’s tie before giving his approval. The classic black suit with white shirt suited him, and I appreciated the amethyst cuff links and tie clip.
“Pajamas?” Emerick asked with laughter in his voice. “You put me in a suit and picked pajamas for yourself? You are a wicked woman.”
“In my defense, I wasn’t fully awake when I went to the dresser, and once in the bathroom, I figured it was better than running around naked.” I shrugged, and went to my nightstand, picking up my toothpick of a stake and sliding it in the tiny leather sheath Emerick had acquired for me. I wore it on a silver chain so it rested near my heart.
“You let her do that?” Clarke asked with a raised brow. “Did you not see what it did?”
“You mean its sunlight trick? Indeed. I have seen it. Did it exert itself when you came in?”
“I received the message of a clear and present danger if I did not secure its approval. After I bullied your brood into letting me in, I skulked around waiting for sunset. It started to glow when I came into the room, and it was monitoring me the entire time. It only glowed in earnest when I startled your wife awake. It intrigues me that its light does not seem to bother your Pepper.”
Emerick chuckled, came over to me, and lifted the chain and my tiny stake, rubbing his thumb over its sheath. “It does its best to comfort her. One day, she will be able to walk in the light of the sun, but it is aware of her longing. She didn’t choose this life. It was born in the light, and it has figured out how to share that warmth without hurting her. I appreciate its efforts.”
“If anyone finds out how sentient her stakes are, she will be in even more danger.”
Emerick nodded and eased the stake back to its spot next to my heart before kissing my cheek. “Do not mind my maker. He is always edgy when he has young vampires in his care and cannot immediately attend to them. It seems he has decided your mother is his. He also has a few other younglings, although they are all male.”
I could think of worse caretakers for my mother, especially as I had Clarke to thank for my ongoing survival. “And my mother’s opinion on this?”
“Before or after she decided I was her next meal?” Emerick’s master asked in a wry tone.
“Both.”
“Before, she viewed herself as the victim of a kidnapping and was not at all receptive to listening to my reasons for plucking her out of the ivory tower. Then the cravings started in earnest. She didn’t understand what she craved. When she attacked me, it clicked. She understood. I have no proof who is behind it, but someone did a true evil to her. During her attack, she fought with a human’s strength, but desperation gave her an edge, hinting at her future preternatural power. It was a challenge to restrain her, as she had not consumed my blood at that point. Once I realized what ailed her, I allowed her to bite, and once she consumed enough of my blood to control, I monitored her until I determined she had enough energy to be sustained. This is only speculation, but I feel she has been receiving blood daily for at least a few months. The dependency is significant.”
“And to vampire blood only?” Emerick asked, narrowing his eyes. “Have you tried other bloods yet?”
“She is not sickened by other blood types, and I will be making sure she is adapted to drinking all types of blood. Even now, my other children try different blood types with her, preparing her for the reality of her new life. But this is a cause for concern. As far as I can tell, she had no idea someone had experimented on her. Fortunately, she is convinced I would never do that to anyone. My children helped with that some.”
Emerick’s smile had a grim edge. “You showed her some of your temper?”
“I swore to her I would present the severed heads of those responsible for it. I may have crushed some furniture in my moment of temper. I then apologized for such violence.” Clarke’s smile lacked any edge, and something about his eyes softened. “She joined me in destroying furniture, and then she took a piece of wood and asked if I had a knife. She thought it was a shame to just waste it. It is obvious where your Pepper inherited her inclination for being a carver. Her mother is a being of creation. I believe she is making herself a collection of crochet hooks and knitting needles at the moment. Her eyes lit up with the vibrancy of the sun when I promised I would provide fiber or spun yarn for her use.”
The memories of my mother finding solace in weaving, knitting, or crocheting hurt. “It is her escape. My father thought it was an acceptable hobby for a woman of her status. He sometimes praised her for it, and he even took one of the blankets she made to work. It was a masterpiece, and only that one was good enough for him to display.”
“It is an escape I will continue to nurture, and I will accept anything she makes with pride at having been chosen to receive her gift,” Clarke promised. “But this is still a problem. Does this pathetic excuse for a human understand what was being made in his own home?”
Emerick took his time thinking about it, and while I waited for him to break the silence, I checked on my stakes, making sure none of them had gone missing in the night. All were accounted for, and I spread them out on the dresser and dusted them off.
“I am not certain I understand what she is becoming,” Emerick admitted.
“A masterpiece of preternatural strength.” Joining me, Clarke admired my stakes, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Have you been teaching her to care for them, or does she still work by instinct?”
“It’s a mix. I am easing her away from bad habits as needed, but she has few of those. Her instincts are remarkable for her stakes. She takes longer to bond with stakes others have made, and she is more likely to develop a relationship with ones I carved.”
“That is a promising sign. How are they taking to you?”
“Well, I have not been turned to ash for joining my wife in our bed as of yet, so I consider myself blessed at this point in time.”
I recognized when Emerick teased me, and I displayed my middle finger for his enjoyment. “They understand I would become heartbroken if I lost my next meal. Is there anything else I should know about my mother, Clarke?”
“Yes. Considering the circumstances, I spoke with her about you at length. She made some concerning comments. When you were younger, you showed a strong preference for vegetarian dishes or white meat; you loathed steak as a general rule. You would accept pork, but you preferred chicken. Around age eleven, that changed. You began becoming more adventurous. By the time you moved out of her home, you had become a voracious carnivore, and you had a very strong preference for rare steaks. In her words, you would be happier if it was still mooing on your plate. Your father also insisted you have dinner with him at least four days every week, more if able—or lunch.”
I nodded. “I don’t remember much about my childhood or what I liked to eat, but I can verify that my father insisted I have dinner or lunch with him often. He would have one of his chefs handle lunch at work, especially if we had business meetings, I guess. I think he sometimes cooked as time allowed. He likes cooking. I’d say I was forced to share at least ten meals a week with him. If it was breakfast, he tended to indulge me with steak and eggs.”
