SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Enter the (New) Vampire

"Andrew?” Aven called as he rushed through the front door. “Andrew!”

“What?” the clipped response rose from the kitchen.

Aven dropped his books by the door and began pulling off his winter gear. A trail of soggy outerwear marked his path as he sought the owner of the voice.

“Can’t you stand still long enough to at least make a concise mess?”

“Nope, sorry,” Aven answered as a wide grin displayed long, gleaming canine teeth. Somehow—someday—Aven would make Andrew tell him how his older brother always knew when he’d made a mess, even before seeing it.

“Did you leave them out all day?” Andrew asked.

Aven frowned. Messes were one thing. It wasn’t fair that Andrew didn’t even need to look at him to know his teeth were showing. “Forgot to put them away this morning.”

“Someday, someone will notice and they’ll ask about them. You know you won’t be able to lie to them. You could end up seriously hurt,” Andrew admonished.

Aven rolled his eyes as he moved his lips in gentle mocking of his brother’s concern. He reached far into the back of the fridge and pulled out an opaque, blue bottle. Aven knew Andrew meant well and he only pestered because he cared. However, his older brother’s constant inquires and reminders were enough to drive Aven batty.

The young vampire pressed his sharp tooth into the bottle’s seal. “Still don’t see why you keep all that other stuff in there; seems like kinda wasteful.”

“I know, but when your friends come over, it looks very strange if there’s nothing in our fridge except rows of blue bottles.”

“We could just tell them its beer and we only eat take-out,” Aven laughed as he strode to the table to snoop through the mail.

“Ha, ha,” Andrew answered. “Go pick up your clothes.”

“Uh-hun,” Aven answered without paying much attention. He was busy turning a letter upside-down in an attempt to read the terrible scrawl. How had the post office read the address to get it to them, or even pretend it was for their address? “I think there’s a vampire in my English class…”

“What?” Andrew blurted as he spun to look at his young brother.

Though he knew he shouldn’t look, Aven couldn’t keep his eyes from the small tube that dripped thick, red liquid. He felt his stomach summersault as the room spun. He grasped at the table to steady himself and tried to keep from panicking. It was just blood!

“Sit down,” a distant voice commanded as strong hands guided him to a chair. “I’m sorry, Aven. I was just so surprised—I forgot to put it down.”

Aven looked up at his brother and offered a weak smiled. “It’s alright,” he murmured, turning away again. The anxious glimmer in his brother’s eyes twisted his gut. “I’m going to have to find a way to get over that soon.” What sort of insanity directed his existence? What sense was there that he was hematophobic?

“It would make things easier,” Andrew agreed.

“Sorry, Andrew,” Aven offered but couldn’t look at the batch he knew Andrew had ruined to help him. It was bad enough to hear the anxiety in his brother's voice when he spoke of his strange phobia.

“Don’t sweat it…” Andrew offered. “What’s this about a vampire in your class?”

“Oh, well—we were reading this short story and she started bawling right there. No one batted an eyelash. Mr. Walsh just kept asking questions. She cried the whole time, and no one even noticed.”

“Do you know her?”

“That’s just it. I’ve never seen her before. I didn’t even realize she was there until I heard crying.”

“What was the story about?”

“I dunno,” Aven answered, screwing up his face in an attempt to remember. “Something about the future and the fall of man-kind or something. I noticed her shortly after it made an allusion to Pompeii—or maybe it was the great wars.”

Andrew stood to clean up the mess as he shook his head.

Aven watched his brother’s back, wishing he’d been paying better attention. He knew that there weren’t supposed to be new vampires for a few decades and the Pompeii vampire had been born and slain hundreds of years ago… “It’s strange, right?” Aven inquired, drawing his brother’s attention.

“Yeah, really strange.”

“Wait—if she’s some kind of natural disaster, shouldn’t she be in Blake’s family?”

“Yes.”

“He didn’t mention anyone new?”

“No.”

“And the War Family…”

“We don’t talk too much.”

“Well!” Aven stood up as he motioned stretching invisible suspenders. “I guess it’s up to me to find out who she is.”

Andrew glanced over his shoulder. “No, Aven,” he instructed. “You don’t even know if she’s a fledge or an elder. I will look into it.”

“But…” Aven began to object.

“I mean it.” Andrew’s dark eyes flashed as he turned to stare at his brother. “Let me see what I can find out.”

Aven clenched his jaw. Andrew was doing it again! He hated that look. Just because he was young didn’t mean that Andrew needed to treat him like a baby. Was he a fledge still? Sure, but he was more mature than most fledges. Didn’t that mean something?

“But she didn’t even know how to block me!” Aven argued. “How could she be an elder?”

“Did you ever stop to consider that she could have allowed you to see her faking?”

Aven scowled and crossed his arms.

“Well?”

“No!” the young vampire snapped. In his instant frustration, he lost control of his fangs, and they flash in rebellion at his brother. Aven knew it was rude, especially to his sire, but sometimes he just couldn’t help it.

Andrew sighed and shook his head, indulging as ever. “Aven, put your teeth away and go pick up your clothes.”

Aven threw his curly, black hair out of his dark eyes. He walked towards the hall as he ran his tongue over his shortening canines.

“Please tell me you’re going to listen.”

Aven stopped walking and cursed his stubborn inability to lie. His brother’s imploring tone softened Aven’s reply with understanding. “I wish I could.”

“Will you at least be careful and think before you act?”

Aven glanced back at his elder brother and offered a lop-sided, roguish grin. “I’ll try.” It was the least and the most he could do for Andrew.

The next day, Aven sat in the back of class, twirling his pen in his fingertips as he half-listened to the lecture. He almost always had to sit in the back of his classes. He’d found that only math classes were safe enough that he was free to sit where he wished.

This section of history class was more boring than most. They were studying the arts periods and they were onto the ‘best’ of them all: Impressionism.

“Now, who can tell me what happened to this Monet?”

Aven turned his gaze up to the screen where Mr. Aldophin was pointing. As he focused on the bright speckles that merged into the wispy image, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyelids twitched in a futile attempt to grasp control. The colorful dots mocked with chilling familiarity as echoes of tears and shadows of fear whispered in the back of his mind.

“It was part of the large collection that sank in a German submarine.”

“Good! Someone’s been reading her homework,” Mr. Aldophin praised. “Where did they get said collection? Anybody? Anybody?”

Like phantoms, flashing visions of terror and pain invaded Aven’s line of sight as well as the darkness behind his eyelids. It was above a fireplace—and then they came. They burst in with guns and shouting. The chilling rat-tat-tat-tat of distant automatic-fire filled his ears with dread, and the taste of death rose in the back of his throat. Aven’s breathing quickened as the walls edged closer. His eyes darted around the room as he searched in desperation for escape or even something else to focus on. It was too late; he was losing it.

“Mr. Aldophin! I have to go the restroom right now!” Aven shouted as he leapt from his seat. He snatched the emergency pass as he rushed out the door without waiting for his surprised teacher’s answer.

He rushed down the hallway as sweat formed on his brow. That was too close. If he’d done his reading assignment, he would have known what was coming. He would have known he needed to shield himself from the others’ attention, and the pain and panic wouldn’t have blindsided him.

Aven bent over the drinking-fountain near the stairs and splashed some of the cold water on his pale face—willing the visions and memories from his mind. He jerked his head up as a great thundering shoved the nightmares from his mind.

He darted around the corner in time to see a blur of arms, legs, and bright colors land in an unceremonious heap at the bottom of the stairs amid a mess of papers and books. He gasped as he rushed to the tow-headed girl. “Are you okay?” Aven’s heart fell when she didn’t move or make a noise. “Hey… hey… can you hear me?”

She groaned and rolled her head to blink at the upside-down stranger staring at her. Her lips parted and she began to speak. “Did I hurt my shoes?”

Aven couldn’t help his astonished snort. “Are you injured?” he repeated his inquiry. “Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted as she struggled to sit up. “Are my shoes okay?”

Aven sat back on his heals and scratched his head. She’d just fallen down a flight of stairs and she was worried about shoes?

He helped her move to sit on the bottom stair as she investigated the damage. He gathered her belongings and placed them next to her. “Are you sure you’re okay?

She turned glistening, gray eyes to him as tears streamed down her face. “The heel broke off,” she cried holding up the devastated object.

Aven fought—with no avail—to keep the amused, pitying smile from his lips. Andrew was wrong. No elder vampire would act like this, no matter how much she loved shoes. There was too much bewildered sorrow for a simple, snaring lie. Plus, there was more behind those large eyes. She wept for more than a snapped heel.

There was a tugging voice at the back of Aven’s mind that reminded him that he should send the stranger to the nurse or something. He should head back to class. However, that voice could take a flying leap.

“I’ve got superglue in my locker,” he offered. “We could have those fixed in no time. No one will ever know.”

She looked at him, a shadow of doubt flashing across her eyes. She shrugged and the corners of her mouth twitched into a responsive grin as he beamed at her. “Okay.”

“I’m Aven,” he introduced himself as he pulled her to her feet and started the short trek to his locker.

“…Uh… Terra.”

“Good to meetcha.” It was hard to keep from laughing as she bounced up and down on the uneven shoes.

Aven spun the lock and mumbled under his breath as he had to start again. He hated combination locks. “So if you don’t mind my asking, Terra,” Aven started as the lock finally dropped down. He resisted the urge to raise his arms in triumph. “Did you fall because your heel broke?”

“No,” she admitted as he rummaged in his over-full locker.

“Then why…?”

“I just haven’t eaten today.”

Aven relieved her of the delicate, yellow shoe and the dislodged heel. He applied the goop and held the two pieces in place to let the junction set. He would never understand why girls had such a strong affinity for the flimsy, pointed things. Except for the color, it looked like something that belonged in a torture chamber.

“How about yesterday?” he asked, hoping he would be able to keep from seeming nosy.

She shifted her weight, causing her height to shift as well. “I…” she started but faltered.

That was enough. “I know I seem forward and probably insane,” Aven started. “But do you have family?”

“What?” she demanded, a slight note of anger ringing in her voice.

“You’re new,” he hurried. Tact didn’t seem to be working anyway. “Where did you come from?”

“That’s none of your business!” she snapped as tears sprang to her eyes.

Aven caught her arm just before her hand struck his face. The strength almost surprised him. Now though, he was sure.

“Calm down!” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

“What do you know?” she fired, lifting her other arm to try again.

He caught that one as well, then holding both her wrists. “I know that you’re hungry. I can help you with that. I also know you’ll feel a whole lot better.”

She stopped struggling against him and allowed her arms to go limp in his hands. “I don’t know where I came from…” she mourned. “I don’t know who I am.”

“I know,” Aven comforted, laying an assuring hand on her shoulder. “Here.” He handed her a blue bottle he pulled from an Igloo sack. “Pop the seal with your tooth.”

“What is it?”

“It’s what you need.”

She was reluctant, but did as she was told. It didn’t take her long to drain the bottle. Terra turned her eyes back to Aven and studied him. “You’re in my English class.”

He nodded to her flat statement before reaching into his locker yet again. He tugged out a green shirt, covered with a fine, checkered print. He sniffed it once and held it in her direction. “I think this is clean,” he said as he continued to rummage, spilling things on the floor. “Sorry about the wrinkles.”

“What’s that for?”

“Unless you came to school like that this morning, you ventilated your shirt during your trip.”

Terra gasped as she noticed the gaping hole down the front of her shirt. Her pale face flamed as she snatched the shirt and darted into the restroom across the hall.

Aven gathered his belongings from the floor and shoved them in his locker, slamming the door before anything could fall out again. He acted calm, but his mind tripped in a tizzy. How could a vampire have no idea who she was? How could she not have a family?

He turned when he felt Terra exit the girls’ room. His eyes leapt open and his mouth dropped as he found himself gaping at her. “Uh… Terra?”

“Yes?”

He edged forward, holding up his hands to assure her that he wasn’t going to hurt her or get fresh. “You want to go with the ugly-baggy look until we get things figured out,” he suggested as he untied the knot in the bottom of the shirt to hide her curves.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

“Let’s just say you’re going to have a hard enough time with guys until after you get a chance to talk to my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. I…”

“Excuse me.” The voice was neither polite nor questioning. “Why aren’t you both in class?”

Aven ground his teeth as he turned to face the only real monster he’d ever met: the assistant principle. He attempted to lock his jaw and remain silent, but in the face of the direct question, the hurried answer spewed forth. “Well, you see—I had to go to the restroom, because they stared talking about one of the Monet paintings that sunk, but I needed a drink first—to calm me down—so I stopped at the water fountain by the stairs at the far end of the school, and when I was drinking, I heard Terra fall down the stairs—it’s okay because when she fell, she didn’t hurt herself, I think—she said she didn’t anyway—her shoe did break though, and I thought that since I have superglue I could fix it for her, so I did—and then she needed a new…”

“That’s enough Mr. Cide. As noble as your intentions, we have faculty that Miss Waters should have gone to,” Mr. Pratt admonished. “Unfortunately, you seem to always have a grand—and rather elaborate—reason to be out of history class.

“We’re going to have to have a chat with your brother…

“Miss Waters, return to class immediately.”

Terra shot a grateful, apologetic look as she shouldered her small bag and turned to walk away.

Aven’s nose wrinkled in grudging disdain as he trudged after Mr. Pratt. There were a hundred things he could have said to defend his absence, but it all would have led to one thing: more questions.

“Mr. Cide, I can appreciate the fact that you are young and that caring for a younger sibling—especially one such as Aven—must be a task of monumental proportions.”

Aven glanced up at his older brother, his frustration the only thing to keep the smirk of his face. Andrew’s jaw was clenched and the muscle kept popping in and out. Aven knew how much his brother loathed it when anyone more than a millennia his junior talked down on him. Andrew didn’t even like it when those only two or three centuries older felt they had that right. Aven had to wonder if someday he’d have as much self-control as Andrew.

Heh, probably not.

“However, it is unacceptable how he continuously skips his classes—history especially.”

“I don’t skip!” Aven insisted, his anger flaring as his attentions were ripped back to the cranky man. “They started talking about…”

“Yes. We know,” Mr. Pratt said as he glared at Aven. “But what about all the other times?”

“I only leave when they talk about bad things.” Aven thrust himself back into his chair and crossed his arms in sulking irritation. If eyes could kill, the entire landscape on the other side of the assistant principal’s window would have shriveled under Aven’s hateful glare.

“Young man, the curriculum is in place because men and women with more experience than you deem these things important for you to learn. Unfortunately, along with learning about what you like, you must also learn what you deem unimportant.”

Aven’s face snapped back to the human that glowered at him. “I didn’t say…”

“Aven, that’s enough,” Andrew interrupted. “Not another word.”

“Mr. Pratt, I can appreciate the fact that you are trying to run the school and make sure everything is as required. However, Aven is supposed to be in class and I am supposed to be at work. I don’t appreciate receiving emergency phone calls at my place of employment when there is little or no immediate physical danger. May we set up and appointment to discuss this later, with Mr. Aldophin present perhaps?”

Mr. Pratt crossed his arms and set his mouth to a thin line. “You do realize I have to put him in detention for the rest of the afternoon.”

“What?” Aven interjected. He hadn’t been away from class that long. He would have been back right away if Mr. Pratt hadn’t detained him.

“What did I say, Aven?” Andrew glared at him.

Aven huffed and sank back into the chair and replaced his arms across his chest in his livid irritation. It wasn’t fair!

“It was a pleasure as always.” Andrew stood, his cold voice rivaling Mr. Pratt’s attitude. “May I speak with Aven privately?”

“Of course.” It was obvious that Mr. Pratt wanted to deny permission. However, he stood and left, slamming door behind him.

Aven’s boiling fury evaporated as soon as the belligerent human left. He stood to meet his brother’s forthcoming disappointment as a contrite frown graced his face. He was sorry Mr. Pratt had drawn Andrew from work.

“Why Aven?”

“They started talking about it.”

The elder vampire stood in silence for a moment.

Aven didn’t doubt that his brother believed him—he knew that he could tell Andrew that the sky was made of blueberry gumdrops and the other would believe him. Granted, it would have to be made of blueberry gumdrops in order for Aven to be able to say it—but still it hurt to see that disappointed look in his beloved brother’s eyes.

“But you’re doing the art periods!” Andrew blurted.

“I know!” Aven squeaked as his jaw trembled. “He asked about the paintings—the ones that were stolen—he asked how they got them. I wasn’t ready. I had to get away.”

Andrew reached out and Aven melted into his comforting embrace. He clutched at the older vampire's shirt, feeling as wounded and childish as the day they’d met. Why did it have to be like this? Why did it have to hurt so much?

“It’ll be okay…” Andrew’s soothing voice promised in his ear.

“It hurts, Andrew…” he whimpered as his Formation raged to sit fresh in his mind again. He wished that the ‘vampire curse’ was the simple need for blood that so many generations of clueless humans thought it was.

“I know.” Andrew tightened his hold. “I know how hard it is.”

“Does it ever get better?”

Aven waited for his brother’s answer as the silent seconds stretched out. In the stillness, he could feel his brother’s pain rising in answer and exchange with his own.

“No,” he whispered. “It doesn’t… Now, who is this Terra Waters?”

Aven inhaled a shuddering breath as he backed away. He knew that Andrew was just trying to distract him—he’d allow it. “She’s the girl from my English class,” Aven answered at length as he ground the heel of his hand into his blood-shot eye. “She can’t be an elder, Andrew. She needs help and she’s coming over tonight.”

Andrew sighed and shook his head with a slight smile. “Alright. Just try and stay out of trouble until then.”

Aven grinned and nodded his head. “Don’t imagine there’s much I can get into at detention.’

Andrew snorted and he raised an eyebrow. “I remember what happened last time.”

“Oh that…” Aven chuckled a little. “Won’t happen again.”

Aven jerked to a sitting position and rubbed the sides of his mouth, trying to wipe away the drool. He had a whole hour left of the mind-numbing detention. An hour, and then he could find Terra and go home.

Of course, he’d told Andrew he was going to behave so there was no messing with Coach Jones’s head this time. Aven forced down a chuckle as he thought about the incident. He had to admit, he’d gotten a little carried away, but it was worth the trouble he’d gotten into with Andrew. How many times in life does one get to see a monster-of-man darting around reciting Shakespeare while trying to catch imaginary sprites and butterflies?

He pulled out a pen and started to play Tic-Tac-Toe on the palm of his hand. Tic-Tac-Toe turned into doodling, which turned into a blue palm. When his hand was consumed, he moved on to coming up with jokes in his head.

Did you hear about the fancy vampire dinner…?

It was by in bite only! Ha, ha, ha!

Aven berated himself for the lame joke, though he did allow himself to laugh—if only out of the sheer cheese-factor.

“Alright, get out of here,” Coach grumbled as he glared at Aven.

Aven had the feeling that Coach somehow knew Aven had been responsible for his humiliating actions last time. That didn’t matter though. As long as the man never asked, he’d never know; and he would never ask. What self-respecting adult, who wanted to keep his job, would ask a student if that student had the power of mental suggestion? Zero, that’s how many.

Aven darted from the stinking room and ran through the halls. He had to find Terra before she left school. If she left and he lost her in the city—no good.

Finding her, however, wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be. Terra walked down the hall, clutching her bag against herself as her nervous eyes darted around. She was surrounded by a distant but not so subtle crowd of males and one or two females.

“What’s going on?” she asked as Aven appeared at her elbow. The panic in her voice was as obvious as the fear in her eyes; though they both lessened when he turned up.

“I told you, you’d want to leave the shirt loose,” he reminded her as a few of his warning-glares disbanded the group.

“But why?”

“No matter what legends say, instinct makes them fear and avoid us when we’re hungry. When we’re not, though, that’s a whole different story.”

“We?” she asked.

“You don’t think normal humans carry bottles of A Positive, do you?”

“I don’t know what to think.” There was no comprehension in her lost eyes.

Now was not the time for a long explanation. “Andrew will be able to help.”

“What are you doing?” Terra asked, cocking her eyebrow as she watched him.

“Hailing the bus,” Aven explained. “Otherwise it won’t stop here. You really haven’t been here long, have you?”

“No,” she answered.

A cyclist zoomed by and Terra squeaked in fright as she jumped to clutch Aven’s arm. He tried not to laugh at her as he pulled her onto the crowded bus. He dropped the change into the payment box and squeezed into the last empty space on the bus. Aven smiled as he watched Terra extend past a comfortable range to reach the bar above their heads. She looked comical all stretched out.

The bus lurched forward. Terra’s fingers lost hold, and she jarred to keep herself from falling. She wore a surprised look not dissimilar to what Aven had always imagined a cat would sport if it was suddenly tossed into cold water.

“Here.” Aven linked his arm around her waist while he gripped the overhead bar with his free hand. “There ya go.”

“Why are they looking at us like that?” Terra mumbled as she glanced around at all the people staring.

“They’re frustrated,” he explained. “They want to be near you but far from me.”

“Why?”

The bus slammed into a pothole and Aven gripped Terra tighter to keep her from lurching too much. She flushed as Aven leaned close to her ear and began to whisper. “It’s because I’m hungry and you’re not.”

She looked up, her face almost touching his. “Then… how come I-I don’t…” She looked down, embarrassed and confused.

“You’re not human… and this is our stop. Come on.”

“Andrew, this is Terra.”

Andrew turned and smiled in greeting. “Don’t worry, my dear,” Andrew comforted. His tongue ran idly over his teeth. “You have a pair too.”

“Uhm… Mr. Cide, what’s going on?”

“Sit down, Terra,” Andrew advised, motioning to the couch. “I have to take care of one or two things, but I’ll be right back.”

Aven grinned as he nodded towards the room behind the long counter. He flopped down and patted the cushion next to him.

“Aven!” Andrew shouted from the front hall.

Aven laughed as he jumped up. “Be right back. Gotta pick up my stuff.”

When he got back, he listened the end of the conversation that Andrew and Terra were having before he entered. It was curious that Andrew was being so blunt…

“Terra, tell me… What do you know of vampires?”

“Vampires?” she asked. “You mean like the blood-suckers?”

“That’s a good enough answer,” Andrew sighed.

Aven took that time to enter and jumped to stretch out along the length of the couch’s back.

“Do you know the legends?” Andrew asked.

“I think so…” She screwed up her nose in thought.

“Well, they’re not true,” Aven chimed in, waving his hand in dismissal.

“Aven, please.” Andrew sighed exasperated. “He’s right in that much of the legends are skewed. A bite from a vampire will never turn a human into a vampire, not even if the vampire’s blood somehow gets in the wound.”

“Then how…?”

“Vampires are the result of pain and loss. When loss is so massive and so inconsolable there must be an outlet. Vampires carry that pain for the rest of the world. We function as vessels to channel the emptiness of suffering. That is why we require blood. The barrenness inside is too great to be sustained by anything less.”

“So the sun…?”

“Is nice in the spring,” Aven piped up. “It makes you all warm and fuzzy inside.”

“The holy-stuff?”

“Myth.”

“Stakes in the heart?”

“Unfortunately, that is true, as is decapitation,” Andrew answered as he shook his head.

“Normally, it takes several hundred years before the sorrow manifests and a vampire fledges into a human form. Until that time, the future-vampire’s being is looked after by a family member…

“Do you have family?”

“I-I don’t know,” she answered, biting her lower lip.

“You would know if you did,” Andrew offered, sitting back. He rubbed his chin in thought.

“Wait,” Terra interjected as her eyes flew open wide. Her body went stiff as a board. It was too much to handle. “You’re saying I’m a vampire?”

Andrew looked to Aven, who shrugged. The emotions he filtered from Andrew told him that it was strange she had no idea what she was.

“Naturally,” Andrew answered at length.

“Didn’t you suspect something when you wanted the blood I gave you?” Aven asked. She hadn’t asked strange questions when he’d alluded to the fact either. Perhaps she’d been so confused and frustrated she hadn’t connected any dots.

“You what?” Andrew asked, sitting forward as his face fell. His eyes bore into his younger brother.

“She was hungry!” Aven snapped, feeling oddly defensive. He hadn’t expected Andrew would be displeased. “She hadn’t eaten in days!”

“Terra…” The elder vampire turned back to her. “Do you ever remember eating anything before Aven gave you the bottle this afternoon?”

“…No…”

:Aven! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?:

:Yeah, I fed a hungry vampire…:

:For the first time!: Andrew sent. :Do you not remember that the first to feed a vampire becomes responsible for it?:

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Aven launched himself from the back of the couch as his eyes flew wide. “I’m just a fledgling!”

He noticed that Terra shrank away from him. Despite the frantic feeling in his chest he couldn’t help the desire—the need—to remove her discomfort.

:And now you have one of your own to look after.: Andrew sighed as he motioned to Terra that everything was okay. :You’d better pray that she’s not somehow of the War Family. They will be less than pleased that you took their right from them.:

Aven sneered. He didn’t care that what he’d done was stupid. It was right. Was he supposed to just let her starve until they could figure out who she belonged to? What if they never found out? “Well then, the monsters should have been there to care for her themselves!” Aven shot as he crossed his arms. Defiance and anger were not the best emotions to harbor when dealing with the War Family—he knew as much—but he couldn’t keep the feelings at bay.

“Uhm… what’s going on?” Her voice was frustrated and terrified as tears welled in her eyes.

Aven turned back to Terra and looked at her staring at him wide-eyed and anxious. Some of his surety and defiance withered as he felt the weight of responsibility begin to settle on him. He couldn’t even remember to feed the fish with any sort of consistency. How was he going to mentor an infant vampire?

He inhaled and furrowed his brow as he turned to his brother. The youth swallowed hard. “Andrew, will you help me?”

“Of course,” the older vampire answered, “but your fledgling just asked you a question.”

“There’s a lot to explain, Terra,” he sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t have anywhere to be.” She tried to smile.

Aven grinned in return and dropped onto the sofa again. “Thata girl.”