compatible with being the leader of a monster hunting organization. Besides, I don't think Vlad would tolerate it. He wouldn't want to see me become a 'mere female'."
"Neither would I."
That caught her by surprise. It was the closest he had ever come to making a personal admission. She scowled to cover her feeling of embarrassment. "Never mind that. Tell me what happened after I lost consciousness."
"Very little, Mum. The Fomorian remained dead and started to dissolve."
"Dissolve!?"
He nodded. "Yes, it started giving off a vapour and gradually disappeared except for a smudge on the flagstones. However, Mr. Mannering was able to take photographs and videos of the body before too much detail was lost. Dr. LeClerc tried to take tissue and fluid samples, but nearly all sublimated in the collection tubes, even pieces of the armoured carapace. But he was able to preserve what he called ichor under argon. He froze them away in liquid nitrogen in the hopes of being able to analyze them in the future. He also performed an impromptu autopsy while Mannering and his people recorded it."
"So we at least have some evidence this time."
"Yes, Mum, though what good it does us I can't say."
She grinned. "Your idea worked. Congratulations."
"Thank you, Mum."
"You got it from Aelfraed's comment."
"That's right."
"What kind of ammunition did you use?"
"The Raufoss rounds. As far as I could tell, the incendiary mix did little external damage; the armour material looked like asbestos fibers. However, the explosive charge did crack the carapace, and the penetrators were able to get in deep. They drew in the incendiary charge with them, and together they did significant internal damage. Also, the face was only lightly armoured, so I was able to penetrate to the brain at point-blank range."
"Then we have an effective weapon in case of another attack. Excellent work."
"Thank you, Mum."
She looked around. "Where's Vlad?"
"He reformed about an hour after the Fomorian was destroyed. He helped me keep an eye out for trouble while Mannering and LeClerc did their analysis, then begged off duty, saying he needed to spend some time in his coffin regenerating. I volunteered to watch over you."
"And Aelfraed?"
"He and Mrs. Widget have their hands full putting the house back in order. It may take ten days before the damage is all repaired."
"Was there much?"
"Except for the door to the guest suite and the braces, surprisingly no. The armoured walls held even during the grenade explosion, though the plaster surfacing and wallpaper were destroyed. However, because of the running battle, there are many bullet holes, and much of the artwork in the solar was damaged. Most of the work will entail digging out the slugs, filling the holes, and replastering."
"I see." She raised her right arm and examined the bandage below her wrist. She tried flexing her hand and the fingers barely moved. She grimaced at both the result and the discomfort. "How bad is it?"
"Dr. LeClerc said you were lucky. It's like a knife wound. The bones are unharmed, no major nerves or blood vessels were damaged, and most of the muscles were pushed aside. The surgeon had to restitch a few that were cut, but mostly it was a case of closing the skin wounds. With physical therapy, he says there's no reason to believe you won't make a full recovery. In fact, he's confident you'll regain nearly full mobility in a day or two."
That's a relief.
She let the arm drop, and felt a hunger pang. "What time is it?"
"Around five."
"I'm rather hungry; I could do with a bite."
"I'll let Aelfraed know."
She struggled to sit up higher. "First, could you raise the bed?"
"Certainly." He grasped the control and pressed a button with his thumb. As the front part of the bed tilted up, she tried to push herself up. He watched her, but then his eyes bulged with shock. He dropped the control and tore away the sheet.
"What are you doing?!" She pulled her legs up against her.
"You can move your legs!"
She stared at him for a few moments, wondering if he had gone moony, and then the shilling dropped. She stared down and stretched her legs out. She waved the feet and wriggled her toes, all in a state of disbelief. Then she broke out into a huge grin as relief washed over her.
"I'm cured!"
He gave a shout as she squealed, and they embraced in triumph. "That's my little wildcat!"
She broke away first. "Wildcat?!"
"Sorry, Mum." He straightened up. "It just seemed more appropriate than 'little lady'."
She laughed and he grinned. "No, I like it!" She swung her legs around and made to hop out of the bed.
"And just where do you think you're going?" He tried to look and sound stern.
"Back to my room, to clean up and get dressed. If I had to spend another day in that chair, depending on other people to dress and bathe me, I'd have gone crazy. I'm so relieved I feel like jumping over the moon!"
"All right, but you just sit tight until I get Doc LeClerc in here to have a look at you. If he says you're okay, I'll take you up to your room myself."
She settled back onto the mattress. "That sounds reasonable."
He nodded and left. She swung her legs, reveling in the freedom she had regained, and whistled a tune as she waited.
{I rejoice in your recovery, My Master.}
Vlad! Are you all right?
{I am well. The Fomorian was the most formidable being I have ever fought, but I survived. I only regret that I was unable to protect you as my Oath demanded.}
It's no big deal; I understand.
{Master...}
Yes, yes, I don't need to show you any consideration. Well, I have news for you, you bloodsucking wanker: you're dead wrong. Get over it.
He actually sighed. {It would seem I have a long and difficult trial ahead getting you properly trained. Fortunately, you have Mr. Holt to step in if I ever fail you again.}
That sobered her. She had forgotten about his transfer. Not for long.
{If you let him leave, you are a fool, and not worthy of being my master.}
She felt her temper flare. Do not presume, Thrall.
{Never, My Master.}
She snorted, mollified. How soon will you be fully recovered?
{By dusk.}
Good. I want to have a talk with you, and this mental conversation is taxing.
{Understood, Master. By the way, you told the Fomorian that with your death I would be released.}
So?
{So, I wanted you to know, that if you are ever killed, my last act as your servant would be to track down your murderers and destroy them in the slowest, most hideous fashion I can imagine, and my imagination knows no bounds. See you soon, My Master.} And she felt his presence slip from her mind.
His admission surprised her, but while it should have given her little comfort, in a strange way she felt proud of his loyalty. She so much wanted to be worthy of it.
Old Doc LeClerc gave her a cursory examination and pronounced her as fit as a mastiff, adding that he was finally glad to be rid of her. He further opined that he believed her recovery proved that her paralysis had been psychosomatic. She didn't dispute him, but she didn't think he was right. In any event, it didn't matter as long as she could walk again. Before she left the infirmary he gave her a gel-filled stress ball and instructed her to squeeze and manipulate it at regular intervals with the hand of her injured arm to strengthen her muscles.
Holt escorted her back to the children's bedroom and waited until a maid arrived to draw her bath. He then excused himself and left. She had little doubt that he would place himself in the hall outside until he was certain Vlad was back on duty. She soaked in her tub for an hour, luxuriating in the hot water as she scrubbed herself clean. After a week of sponge baths she felt rather grimy. When she finished she put on her pajamas, and Mrs. Widget tucked her in as Aelfraed served her supper on a tray table. After they left a
nd before she ate, she tried to summon the giant sword again, but found she couldn't. It made her wonder why it had appeared at all, or if it came on its own volition.
When she had finished eating, Aelfraed came to take away her tray. He settled her to sleep and turned off the light when he left, but as soon as she believed he was gone, she threw off the covers and sat cross-legged on the mattress.
Vlad.
He appeared in a burst of shadow. "You rang, My Master?"
"Have you fully regenerated?"
"Yes, Master, I am ready to reassume my duties."
"Very good, but first we need to have a talk."
He knelt down on one knee. "Whatever you desire, My Master."
"I've thought about your offer, and I have a couple of questions. First, you said the parasites 'cure' aging. If I drink your blood, would I grow any older?"
He flashed a wistful expression. "Not if you drink as much as I propose."
She smirked. "I suppose if I stayed 12 forever, that would forestall any possibility of us developing a romantic relationship. Unless you're some kind of pedophile."
He displayed a disgusted look. "Master, please!"
She chuckled. "You're right; my mistake. My other question is, do the parasites rob you of your emotions?"
"Not in the way you imagine."
"Then explain it to me."
"We have emotions, but one part of the alterations is an enhancement of our intelligence at the expense of our emotions. What we lack is what Humans call intuition; for us, every decision we make, beyond feeding the Hunger, is the result of careful analysis."
"So no gut reaction."
He shook his head. "No, Master."
"I see. Well, since I can walk again, the situation is no longer urgent, so I've decided not to accept your offer, but not just for that reason. For one thing, I don't fancy remaining a child for eternity. For another, I'm not yet smart enough that I can afford to lose my intuition. I also thought of something else while I was taking my bath, that except for it being my choice, there is no difference between being infected by the parasites or a Fomorian embryo. Either way, I become something other than myself."
He nodded. "I understand how you would see it that way."
Then she smiled. "Besides, as long as I have you, I don't need vampiric powers."
He grinned back at her. "That is true, Master, but I reserve the right to make my offer again in the future."
"Hmph. I guess I can't stop you, but that assumes there is a future."
He managed to look puzzled. "Master?"
"You know, I have no idea whether you're sincere or a bloody wonderful actor. I know you can read my mind. Tell me, to what extent do you monitor my thoughts? And I want the truth."
He looked wary. "I will always tell you the truth, Master. I must scan your surface thoughts if I am to know when you are in danger, or when you summon me, but the blood you gave me establishes a permanent link, so I can accomplish that almost without effort."
"Then you know of my recent...concerns about you."
A grave expression settled onto his face. "Yes, My Master."
"My releasing you was an accident. Yes, my intent was to open the sarcophagus, but I had no idea what was inside. I certainly wasn't expecting to find you, and at first I thought you were just some mummified corpse. I didn't know you could even be revived, much less that my blood would do it, and I'm no longer sure I would have done so even if I did. Afterwards, I didn't have time to come to terms with what happened before the next crisis was upon us, and I had to give you the benefit of the doubt, but your behavior, your powers, the things you've told me...they all make me question whether I can really trust you."
She paused, but he didn't reply.
"I may be making a mistake confronting you in this manner. Everything I know tells me you could kill me in an instant and no one could stop you. But, my instincts tell me I should give you a chance to prove yourself, and I've discovered certain things which suggest my fears may be groundless."
"Such as?" His voice was carefully neutral, as if he tried to convince her he was completely disinterested.
"You saved my life, twice; I can't ignore that."
He