Page 66 of Silent Stalker
FIFTEEN
What the hell is wrong with me?
How much ofmy life had been a lie?
When I evaluated my childhood from my earliest memories until the day I’d believed I’d been killed and turned into a vampire, everything I needed to confirm my father spoke the truth fell into place. When I had shown any form of aggression, any habit that might be construed as that of a waking predator, my father had brought down hell onto my head.
He’d never raised a hand against me that I could remember, but he’d inflicted other effective punishments upon me until I went out of my way to make sure those behaviors never showed.
Any time I tried to take control over a situation, he’d been there, reining me in and encouraging me to take the role of a follower, a useful right-hand woman, one who didn’t call the shots—one who wouldn’t have to show any aggression towards anyone.
While I thought, I whittled, and the warm wood offered peace in the turbulent storm of my emotions.
Somehow, everything that had made me seemed much easier to handle now that I was aware he’d done it for the protection of those around me.
If I, as an infant, could have harmed my mother, what could I have done at Edgar’s age—or as a teenager?
The longer I thought on it, the more I admired everything my father had surely sacrificed hiding the truth of my nature from everyone, even me. No, especially from me.
As I did with all my rough-carved stakes, I pressed it to my lips, as though offering it affection might better welcome it into our dark world. I picked up a piece of sandpaper, and aware of its fragility, I went to work smoothing the wood. “That did not go as expected.”
“No, it didn’t,” Emerick agreed. “I regret to inform you I now have a rather hopeless crush on your father.”
I managed a weak laugh. “All this time, I believed he hated me, Emerick.”
“The reality is a far different thing, isn’t it? But he is why I do as I do within our brood. I could never stake my own child, and nor could he. And to be faced with such a choice when you were not even a day old? The pain of it must have been beyond imagining. Then the horror of an infant rising, all within hours? You can’t explain thirst to an infant. It simply isn’t possible. It took us years to ease Edgar into acceptance of what he couldn’t understand, and he never understood his thirst.” The pain in Emerick’s voice drew my full attention to him. “He must have held you, when you cried from thirst without understanding, and wondered if your fate would be to suffer through life as an eternal infant. I cannot even imagine the agony of that moment.”
“But why did I rise?”
“Your father is ancient, and ancient vampires are magic. That magic was passed on to you. Your brothers likely have the same predisposition. Essentially, you rising became inevitable because your father’s magic is so strong. That he is so old is terrifying. He’s so old he can walk beneath the sun without any evidence of his nature—and he has been training you to do that from the day you were born.”
“But why can’t I stay awake when the sun rises now?”
“I suspect you’re catching up on lost sleep. That’s all. When I stay up for too many days in a row, I sleep deeper when I do sleep. I’d been staying up during the days most days since you came home to me. You have decades of lost sleep to catch up on, and the rest you would have gotten at night likely hadn’t done you that much good.” Emerick got up and paced the conference room. “He is definitely up to something, though. But what?”
“Revenge,” I said in a flat tone. “That wave of his hand when he left? That was one of his signals. He is clearing the air and moving on to some other plan. And if all he told us is true, he is letting you know he means to wage war.”
“Yes, I think you’re correct. When an ancient vampire’s offspring is wronged, that is reason enough for war. For someone to bring violence to you after he worked so hard to keep that part of your nature tamed? I suspect you’re right. Revenge is on his agenda. This could be a good thing, or this could be a bad thing.”
“If he seeks revenge out on the correct people?” I asked.
“Precisely. Fortunately for my sanity, I know someone we can talk to regarding this situation. Your brother, Eugene. He’s stable, he likes me, and when he finds out has a sister, I expect he’ll be here in a hurry with his best hunters. You will find him to be almost as annoying as I am.”
Great. Finding out I had a family other than just a father and a mother would take a great deal of getting used to. “All right. Let me finish sanding this stake first.”
“Take your time.”
Within ten minutes, I’d smoothed the tiny stake, smiling at the warm color of the wood, which still held a hint of green in its heart. “This is a nice little stake, Emerick.”
“May I?”
I held the stake out to him.
Emerick took the tiny stake and rolling it in his palm. As he often did when handling my carvings, he smiled. “Yes, you are right. It’s very nice. It is, like many of yours, a creation meant to comfort. The truth is a hard burden to bear, and I think it understands that. May I have this one sent over to one of the vampires we rescued?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be right back.” Taking the stake, he left the room.
