Page 53 of Silent Stalker
Ben smiled, and once the child was thoroughly distracted, he said, “I plan to surprise Emerick, but I wanted to warn you first.”
“Warn me? But why?”
“You’ll understand soon enough. I’ve asked him to come meet us here, as we have more branches than I expected, and I’d rather not bundle them.”
I nodded, as I tended to want to line them up where each one received equal treatment and none were buried. “How long will it take him to get here?”
Ben checked his watch. “No more than five minutes. He was already growing anxious with your outing, or so claims Salania. Annora is coming with Gerry, and I have told them precisely what to expect. They agreed with my decision to keep Emerick in the dark so you have a better understanding of the situation.”
“Seeing is believing?” I asked.
“Exactly. It will also be good for Edgar. He’ll never be anything more or less than a child, and it’s easy to forget children have significantly different needs than adults, with an entirely different way of viewing the world.” Ben kept a close eye on the child, who talked to the branches as though they were living things.
In a way, the branches were living things. How could I explain the strange nature of branches destined to become stakes to a child? “Does he understand what stakes are used for?”
“He understands. Life and death aren’t foreign concepts to him. He grew up in a far different world than you did, and death came swiftly often. When he first died, it was to an outbreak of cholera, and he wasn’t among the first to die from it. When he disappeared, he’d grown accustomed to the cycle of life. A tough lesson for a child. Even then, I’d wondered what he understood and didn’t. Mentally, he’ll never mature beyond where he is. People have tried to determine why young vampires never develop beyond the age of their first death. We just don’t understand the magic or the science of it. In the past hundred years, it’s been much easier to prevent those tragedies. Vampire-born children are jealously guarded until they’re young adults, and should one pass away at a young age, steps are taken to make certain they don’t rise into a second life. In our brood, Emerick handles that duty. While the parents are aware of what will be done and why, he would never subject grieving parents to the necessity of it.”
“Are they staked?” I whispered.
Ben shrugged. “Holy water and wafers in the mouth is typically sufficient to make certain a child will never rise. But he is known to bury them with stakes, though not driven through the heart. Usually he places them in the hand, which suffices. The holy water and wafers are usually enough, but a stake—usually carved by the parents together—is the more effective method of making sure a child won’t rise. If the predisposition has been confirmed prior, he will stake, but only at the request of the parents. It’s uncommon. He’s buried two children in the past hundred years, and one time staking was requested. The graves were closely monitored, and neither child rose. After fifty years, he quietly exhumes the bodies to confirm there is no chance of rising. That is something the parents are aware will happen, but they don’t know when, and it isn’t discussed. It’s too traumatic for the parents.”
“The whole thing sounds traumatic,” I replied.
“It is. But it’s a responsibility we handle with grim pride. In our brood, there won’t be another Edgar—nor will there be in most broods. This is part of what upset Emerick so much.”
I understood. “He still lives because he’s a sweet child?”
Ben nodded. “A gentle child who was the pride of his parents in both of his lives, which makes his turning an even greater tragedy. We all look at him and wonder about the man he might have grown to become if fate had been a little kinder. But he is a joy and brings joy. He’ll love the modern world. And like you, he’s a sound sleeper in the day, but Emerick won’t allow anyone to train him to stay up beyond sunrise.”
If the child slumbered during the day, no one would have to worry about keeping an eye on him all the time. “That makes sense. Why stress him?” I glanced up and spotted a branch high up in an oak tree holding on by a thread, the tallest I’d found yet. “Oh, look at that one.”
Ben chuckled when he spotted what had caught my attention. “That one will be something special, I’m certain.”
“They’re all special,” I corrected, and I went to work climbing the old tree, grateful for my newfound strength and agility, which let me skitter up places I wouldn’t have dared before becoming a vampire. Near the top, I took care with where I put my weight, as I didn’t want to be the reason a branch fell.
To my dismay, I spotted a bird’s nest clinging between the broken branch and a neighbor, the baby birds within at risk of falling to their deaths. The parents, some form of songbird, hopped from branch to branch and did their best to drive me away.
I examined the nest, located a nearby crook where it might fit, and eased my hand beneath it, easing it away from danger. To my dismay, the branch breaking had damaged the nest, and tiny bird feet poked through the hole. Using an elbow to brace myself, I used both hands to cradle the nest and transfer it, easing the baby birds back into the safety of the twigs and leaves. The natural depression in the wood where the branches divided made the ideal place to set the nest. To help make sure it would stay in place, I pillaged twigs from the broken branch and formed a fence around the nest.
“What are you doing, Pepper?” Ben asked.
“There was a bird nest on the broken branch. I’m almost done.” The songbirds flittered nearby, and the instant I backed away, they checked on their babies, settling inside and watching me with dark and baleful eyes.
As always, I apologized to the tree before making off with the branch and scampering down before the birds decided to peck my eyes out. I thumped to the ground in time to observe Emerick strolling down the path with Annora and Gerry.
Edgar spotted the ancient vampire, squealed, and ran over with the general force of a wrecking ball, plowing into Emerick’s legs.
At first, Emerick resembled a statue, frozen and lifeless. Then, with the slow and deliberate care of someone afraid of shattering an unexpected moment, he knelt. And then, wrapping his arms around the child, he bowed his head and cried. I couldn’t tell if he wept from joy or some unbearable grief he’d carried with him over long years.
Then I realized what Ben had meant.
Edgar was a loved child.
Annora and Gerry gave Emerick a few minutes before joining the party, and the woman ended up with an armful of excited child. I swallowed, wondering what I had done—and what would have happened to Emerick if someone else had found Edgar first.
“Ben?” Emerick asked, his voice soft, but heavy with emotion.
“Pepper found him fresh from crawling out of a grave. He’d probably been buried deep, and the recent fuss probably had enough power to wake him. She gave him the blood from her canteen before calling me.” Ben went to where the branches had been scattered in the child’s excitement, bending over to pick them up and cradle them in his arm. “I explained the situation to her.”
