Atticus tossed aside the ruined goblet and brought another one forth. He cursed himself for having let so much of himself show, he'd worked relentlessly to keep up the charade that was his life. The birth of his son and seeing Merle again had rattled him in perilous ways. He couldn't allow it to all fall apart now. Regaining control of himself, he poured himself another goblet of blood.
"Would you like some?" he inquired not bothering to respond to Merle's statement. Merle waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. Atticus walked over and sat across from him. "How have things been with you?"
"Fine enough," Merle responded though his eyes remained troubled as he watched Atticus. "Jane miscarried again three months ago. I think she's had enough of trying and so have I. That was the sixteenth child we've lost, a boy this time. I don't think it was meant for us to have offspring."
"Do you plan to end it with her and marry another?" Atticus inquired.
Merle shrugged. "Things are convenient for us now but I suppose I'll eventually have to take another if she can't produce an heir."
"Do you have any bastards?"
"I'd lay wager that there are a few of them running around out there, none that I'm aware of or have acknowledged though." Atticus nodded and sipped at his blood. "How is it in the land of the sun?"
"I am kept busy," he murmured as his gaze drifted toward the darkening sky outside the balcony doors.
"Do you plan to return to the war now that you have a son here?"
"I'll return to the desert within the month. What brings you here?"
"The Council meeting is next week. I thought I would take a detour on my way to Transylvania to see how you have been and to congratulate you." Merle had been granted his own place on The Council when a young noble from the House of Herstin died unexpectedly in a fire. The noble had been the last of his line and they'd needed someone to step forward to take his place.
"I'd forgotten," Atticus admitted.
It had been years since he'd attended one of The Council meetings. It wasn't required of him while he was battling to keep their lands safe and the vampires within the desert under control. The population of vampires amongst the Crusades was swelling but most behaved themselves, far better than he did. In the beginning he'd come back for every Council meeting, but he'd soon realized that being the war hero, and the only one amongst them with actual battle experience, had elevated him in The Council's eyes far more than his attending every meeting ever would. He was battle hardened, he protected their wealth, and he carried out their laws without hesitation. Messengers carried back his feats to The Council and relayed Council details to him. That was good enough for him. He came back here twice a year, for two weeks to visit with his wife, but that was the only time he spent outside of the desert.
Merle shifted in his seat and began to fiddle with his knife. It seemed as if something was on his mind but he appeared reluctant to reveal what it was. Finally he lifted his head to meet Atticus's eyes. "I ran into Camille."
Atticus's head shot up, for the first time in years a true smile lit his face. "How is she?"
Relief filled Merle's face, he relaxed and smiled jovially back at him. "She's doing well, looked as beautiful as ever."
"What is she doing now? Is she married?"
"She is designing women's clothing in Paris and is highly sought after. That's how I ran across her; Jane insisted we go to see her while we were in France. Though I didn't know who it was we were going to see at the time, and of course Jane has no idea who she is. She has chosen not to marry, though I'm sure if she met the right man she would settle down. She says she enjoys having control over her life, being free, and taking care of herself. She seemed happy enough but she told me she misses Genny every day and that she actually hides a little G in every piece of clothing she creates."
Atticus turned away as tears burned his eyes. He tried not to think about the wonderful life he would have had with Genny if she hadn't been killed, but between this news and the baby, he was flooded with images of her in ways he hadn't been in years. Her raven eyes swam before his face, his nose was filled with the scent of asters as her laughter rang in his ears. His head bowed beneath the piercing blade of sorrow that pierced his heart. A blade that hadn't dulled over the years but only sharpened with every day he spent without her.
"She told me to tell you that she says hello and that she misses you also," Merle continued.
"She wouldn't miss me if she knew me," he murmured unable to keep up appearances with the barrage his senses were taking. "I should have died that day."
Merle leaned over the table toward him. "Didn't a piece of you though?"
Atticus shuddered, his nostrils flared as those words caused knowledge to spark within him. "Yes," he confirmed and lifted his head to meet Merle's gaze. Though it was far more than just a piece of him that had ceased to exist but he would never reveal that. "Yes, a part of me died that day."
It seemed strange to confirm it aloud but once the words were out, he couldn't take them back. Merle sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. He didn't speak again as they sat together well into the night. It was the closest he'd come to making a connection with anyone in years and though he knew it wasn't much of one, he didn't want Merle to leave. The silent presence of another within the room actually made him feel almost alive again, but he knew it was a feeling that wouldn't last.
"She smelled of asters," he murmured.
"I remember," Merle said.
Maybe that was why he felt almost alive again, because he had someone else to remember her with him if only for a little while.
***
December 15, 1225
My dearest Genny,
Word arrived today that my second son was born on October 21. I knew she was to have the baby around then but I didn't return for the birth this time. Why would I? I was there for the birth of my first son; I found no reason to be there for the second. It's reported that he is healthy and that she has chosen the name Caleb for him. It's not a name I would have chosen, but who am I to judge? The children are simply a means to an end after all.
It's strange, people die so quickly within this desert that even though I've been here for some time, I haven't had to move about much in order to avoid detection. It would be a dream if the rest of the world could be more like this place.
***
May 30, 1227,
My dearest Genny,
The Council has called me back. I've just received word that my Uncle Nyles met his demise in a hunting accident and that they believe it is time for me to assume my place amongst them now that they are down a noble. I don't know how I'm going to handle going back to civilization. I don't know if I can go back to the charade that I've been avoiding for almost a hundred and fifty years.
***
Atticus sat and watched as his sons moved around the field. Even at their young ages he could see the differences in the two of them. The oldest had a kindness in him that Atticus was determined to rid him of. It was a horrible thing for Braith to possess, one that would only destroy him in the end. It was a weakness that Atticus could not tolerate. Not in the son that he planned to have become one of his strongest soldiers in the war that he would one day wage across this land. Even as he watched though, the eldest knelt to call forth a kitten that had been hiding in the woods. The kitten crept out cautiously but continued forward at Braith's urging. There was delight all over his child's face as the kitten finally came to him.
Atticus contemplated putting the child out of his misery before life destroyed him also, but he was aware of the fact that the staff of the villa didn't like the younger child. Some even feared him. Caleb was known to laugh as he bit, pulled the hair, or kicked and beat at those hired to take care of him. Atticus found this amusing; in fact it was something he took pride in. Whereas the oldest was every bit the clueless, hapless bastard he had once been, this younger specimen was every bit the heartless, savage monster he had become.
 
; However, Atticus was old enough to hide the insanity and ruthlessness within him, Caleb was not. The youngest may be the merciless son he would need to one day crush the human race beneath his heel, but the vampires would not follow him. They were more likely to turn against him and put him down as a child when it would be easier to kill him, if they thought there was any chance he would rise to power.
The oldest though, humans and vampires alike loved the oldest; he had a magnetism about him that few could resist. Perhaps it was his pretty face, Atticus thought sardonically as he was already shaping up to be a handsome, strong boy. Even more so than the younger child. At six, Braith was already twice the size of the other vampire children he was being raised with and the star of all his training courses. He may not have the savagery within him that Atticus required in the boy, but he had the power and the ability to lead that Caleb did not possess.
There was always the chance that he could rid the eldest of the weakness of compassion that would one day drag him down, and that was exactly what he intended to do. Braith grinned as he caught the kitten in his hands and held it before him. Walking across the field toward him, Atticus saw much of his old self within Braith and he hated him for it.
"Kill it," he commanded brusquely.
The smile slid from Braith's face as his head tilted back to look up at him. "Excuse me papa?"
"I said kill the kitten."
Behind him the younger one began to giggle. "But I don't want to," the older protested.
"It doesn't matter what you want. In this life you won't get what you want, learn that now child. Crush it."
The boy stared at him from uncertain eyes that were the same shade of gray with that strange blue band around them as his mother's. He despised those eyes. His gaze fell to the orange and black tabby cat squirming within Braith's grasp. Atticus watched as Braith's hand moved to grab hold of the kitten's head but at the last second, instead of killing it as he'd been told, the boy tossed it toward the tree line it had emerged from. The kitten's legs were braced apart, its hair stood on end when it landed in the woods. A small hiss escaped it before it turned and fled into the forest.
The younger one began to laugh louder as Atticus snatched Braith up by the back of his tunic and lifted him before him. The color faded from Braith's face, his eyes bulged from his head. Atticus gave him a sharp shake back and forth. "You are never to disobey me again!" he snarled.
Dropping his arm down, he dragged the child behind him on the ground as he stormed back to the villa. The child was brave and obstinate, he'd give him credit for that, but he would learn his place. He would learn that this world was only a place for cruelty and he was going to be the one to teach it to him. The sound of the boy's cries fell on deaf ears as he dragged him back to the boy's room and locked the door behind them.
- CHAPTER 27 -
April 9, 1235
My dearest Genny,
My daughter was born today. She's nothing like the little girl I'd envisioned with you when I first held Braith. She looks like her mother with her blond hair and delicate features. The sight of her made me cringe. Anna named her Natasha. Again, it wouldn't have been my choice but again I offered no opinion on the matter.
I often ponder what our daughter's name would have been but I can never think of anything that would have been beautiful enough for her. Though sometimes I think I would have called her Aster as she would have been our shining star.
I hate this world I live in and these vampires and humans that surround me. I want my desert back but that's not to be. I must say though that The Council is almost as ruthless as me; they just use their laws to cover up their ruthlessness. The methods of torture they come up with are ingenious. Though we are not allowed to actually carry them out (they do not like to get their hands dirty and expect that we all feel that way, even though I don't) as an appointed enforcer of the laws, I do get to watch.
***
Atticus smiled grimly as the vampire trapped within the cage before him screamed on endlessly. His body thrummed with excitement as the man's face became florid and the muscles in his neck stood out. Beside him, Braith took a step back and turned away. Horror was written all over his son's features as the man's face twisted in agony.
As a vampire this was only the beginning of the man's suffering, there was much more torture still to come. A vampire's body did not simply give out on them. Oh no, he had learned over the years, and even more so now that he was working closer with The Council, that there were many things the vampire body could withstand. They could lose almost all of their blood and continue to function as a mere husk of their former selves. Their tolerance for pain before finally passing out was ten times the threshold of a human's, and they were far more fun to play with than any human was.
Every new form of torture he discovered he filed away for future use. Until the day he could use what he had learned, he enjoyed making sure the punishments that The Council handed down to vampires that broke the Vampiric Law were carried out.
Atticus wrapped his hand around the back of Braith's neck and pulled him forward as the rats continue to eat their way through the vampire's belly and chest. "Look," he hissed at his son.
In the glow of the fire behind the man, Braith's eyes were wild and filled with dread. His muscles strained against Atticus's hold upon him but he didn't try to break free of his grasp. He was strong and broad, especially for a twelve year old, but he was of no competition for his father and they both knew it. Sweat began to break out on Braith's face but he remained immobile within his grasp as the vampire released one more howl before succumbing to unconsciousness.
"Ach," Caleb said disappointedly from beside him and gulped down the rest of the blood in his goblet.
"It is over now," Braith murmured. He turned sideways to twist out of Atticus's grasp and he let him go. Braith's eyes were filled with disgust as they lingered on Caleb. He turned on his heel and walked away. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor of the catacombs beneath the building that The Council had established as their center for law enforcement in Italy.
Atticus watched him go; it seemed that no matter what he did, he couldn't break the boy's compassionate streak. Braith was still young though; there was plenty of time to make him see. He'd learned that forcing him to stay to watch only turned into a battle and right now he was enjoying this newest torture far too much to fight with his son.
He turned back to Caleb. "Would you like to wake him?"
"Oh yes, very much so," Caleb said eagerly. Caleb's green eyes, so much like his own, gleamed with pleasure in the light of the fire.
The tiny piece of him that still had a little sanity left was even a little unnerved by Caleb and his thirst for brutality. It was an extremely small piece though and one that was easily ignored as he grabbed a poker from the fire and handed it over to his son. A twisted smile curved Caleb's lips; he placed the burning tip of the poker against the man's cheek. A howl escaped the man as he came back to life.
***
February 17th, 1243,
My dearest Genny,
Anna has given me another son today. He's much like the other boys with his dark coloring and his eyes are gray like his mother's. I wonder if that means he'll be as soft as his eldest brother is. Braith is growing larger everyday though and the vampire people, as well as humans, really do respond to him. He has some kind of hold over them, or not a hold, but a charisma that attracts them.
When he smiles they smile back at him, when he speaks, they listen. He will be a great captain for the army I will one day raise, a great champion for my cause. I may not have succeeded yet in showing him that there is nothing in this world but cruelty and death, but he's proven himself to be exceptionally strong, fast, and a powerful warrior.
Caleb can be the one that does the dirty work, but it will be Braith that leads the armies. The girl, Natasha, is much like Caleb. I see it in her. They both take the same twisted pleasure in death and torture that I do. They are not as good at
concealing it though, but they are children, they will learn to keep it better hidden as they grow.
She named this boy Jericho, I had no input in this name either but it is not overly bad. I wonder what he will be like. Will he be the oblivious fool his older brother is, that I once was, or will he be as twisted as his siblings are, and as I have become.
It will be interesting to see.
***
August 4th, 1373
My dearest Genny,
The years are going by so fast now. Sometimes I think that maybe one of these days I will wake up and you will not be the first thing on my mind. That day has not come yet. I sat last night with your words again, like I have every day, but for the first time in years I opened the trunk too. I was always afraid to open it, afraid your scent would escape and I would lose yet another piece of you. It has dulled over the years but your aroma is still there, and still potent enough to drive a knife through my heart. Though I don't need your smell to do that, just the memory of you can still bring me to my knees.
***
March 11th, 1450,
My dearest Genny,
Merle came to see me today. It has been almost twenty-five years since I last saw him, he is little changed but he did come with the strangest bit of news…
Atticus looked up from where he sat at his desk, keeping a detailed account of the vampires that had been put down this month and the offenses they had committed in order to deserve the punishment from The Council. He grabbed his goblet full of blood as a knock sounded on the door of the library he'd had built in his newest villa.
"Who is it?"
"Your best looking family member," Merle called cheerfully from the other side.
Atticus couldn't help but chuckle as he rose to his feet and went to open the door. Merle was leaning in the doorway, his sandy blond hair was longer than the last time Atticus had seen him, his skin tanner, and a vibrant smile was on his face. "Cousin," Merle greeted as he straightened away from the door and grasped hold of Atticus's hand.