Chapter 18
Too Easy?
Balthazar rose in one graceful movement from his haunches in front of Grayson to his feet in front of his eldest fledgling. Elgar was looking at him. Elgar was looking at him. Elgar was–
“Master, Legion… I remember now. They tricked me,” Elgar explained, which was not much of an explanation. How could anyone trick the Whisperer?
Elgar’s gaze started to drop to the skull. Balthazar reached out and put a finger beneath his chin so that Elgar had to keep looking at him. Elgar’s silver eyes flickered all over the place, but finally locked upon him again.
I’m right here, Elgar. I’m not dead. I’m right here. Stay with me, he pleaded.
Elgar did not answer over their bond. He rarely did. There was only a flash of warmth and then like a cat tucking its head beneath its body, all was silent and dark again, and he had no sense of Elgar’s mind. Balthazar strove not to feel disappointed or frustrated.
Burrowing in the earth with his dead form for who knew however long after the terrible War was probably the least of what Elgar had suffered.
He must be patient and kind. He felt Christian’s support in this and it was like a wall he could lean against to keep himself on the correct path.
There was no forcing Elgar to get well. And if he were to never get well, Balthazar would have to accept this and love him all the same.
Love him perhaps more tenderly for all that Elgar had lost.
Damn the War and damn my role in it and not stopping it, Balthazar thought.
“I should have known that they were lying,” Elgar explained. “Not at first. At first, they wished to find Kaly and end the War. They believed it would make them Weryn’s favorite. Prove they were the–”
“Childe of his Heart?” Balthazar let out a bitter laugh. “A Master who doesn’t want you is a Master that will never value you. There is no changing it no matter how clever you are or skilled or cheerful even. None of it will change anything if they are set against you from the very beginning.”
Elgar blinked. “Master–”
“I don’t mean you, Elgar! Good grief! Never.
I meant… it doesn’t matter,” Balthazar said, annoyed at himself for causing his very damaged eldest fledgling the least bit of hurt.
He was speaking of himself, of course. He always did.
In this moment, he realized just how annoying that could be.
Christian was his teacher in this. Firm, but gentle.
The world was not all about him. Just mostly about him.
Yes, mostly. He continued, “I just meant that Weryn would never allow himself to see Legion’s merit. ”
“Legion is a monster.” Elgar’s lips writhed back from sharp white teeth.
His fangs were out as he spoke of the Weryn Vampire.
“In appearance. In shape.” He passed one of his long fingered hands over his face as if to turn his lovely visage into a monstrous one.
It could not be done, of course. All black hair and pale skin with those silver flashing eyes.
His eldest fledgling was a mixture of stark colors, but soft lines.
He’d turned many heads. Not that he noticed. Or if he ever did, he shied away from that attention. He put every single human he fed from into a deep sleep before he would touch them and then he would only allow his lips to barely brush their skin as he delicately drank their blood.
Besides himself, Elgar spent time only with Julian and Christian voluntarily. Though he did seem piqued by the “naughty kitty” as he’d called Demos. But the Weryn Vampire was able to be still and patient with Elgar as if he were a frightened, wild animal.
“Legion wears what they are on the inside on the outside.” Elgar’s lips trembled with disgust, not fear.
“What do you mean?” Grayson asked.
Grayson looked like death warmed over. His normally golden skin looked gray. There were dark circles around his eyes. And he was slightly clenching his jaw as if he were in constant pain. He was. A headache that pounded through him.
I could take that pain away, Balthazar thought.
Do not, it was Daemon.
Why? You don’t want him to suffer! Balthazar cried.
Of course, not, Daemon said lovingly. My General is precious to me as you all are precious to me. But the pain is warning him from doing anything more. He will kill himself at this rate.
He destroyed your beach, I’m afraid. That tidal wave really did a number on it, Balthazar said. But then snapping himself to attention, he said what he should have all along, We’re being attacked by–
You will handle it. I know you will, Eyros. Fear not.
And Daemon’s voice drifted away as if the Vampire King were falling into deep sleep. Balthazar gritted his teeth. He would handle it. They would. All of them. Together. He focused on the moment.
“Legion was disturbed before being turned. They were a killer from the time they could walk. They enjoyed hurting others,” Elgar explained.
“A serial killer?” Grayson tilted his head up, lips parting.
Elgar–unfamiliar with this term–cocked his head to the side as he read the definition from Grayson’s mind. “Yes, yes, I think so. They were once a helpless thing against people who would hurt them. They wished to hurt helpless things themselves.”
“Good gods. A serial killer. That’s been our greatest fear to turn one of them!” Fiona gasped as she pulled her Bloodline sisters close to her.
They clustered near her. Eyes narrowed with both anger and disgust.
“We’ve been very careful to never do that,” Balthazar said. “At least, I thought we always had been.”
“Weryn thought of the War Children like wild dogs. He sent out his pack of snarling, ravenous beasts to kill and he needed them to love to kill. Serial killers were ideal,” Elgar continued to explain. “But I felt pity for Legion nonetheless.”
“Of course, you did. Your big heart couldn’t help it,” Balthazar said gently. “They were an outcast, I take it, even among those others?’
Another nod. Elgar’s eyes were locked with his. Balthazar wondered how long it would last. He would take it as long as it did and hope for the best.
“They were truly seeking love–what they thought of as love–from Weryn. I understood wanting one’s Master to be proud,” Elgar admitted and a single tear began to track down his cheek. “Nothing they did worked so… finding Kaly, defeating Kaly, would do it. Surely.”
Blinking rapidly as he felt a flash of his eldest fledgling’s mind filled with anguish for a moment at failing him somehow had Balthazar exclaiming, “Elgar, I was always proud of you–”
“You do not remember, Master. You have chosen not to. I respect that. But I know the truth, because I remember. I failed at the plan you put together to Whisper peace. I was not strong enough to assist you,” Elgar’s voice was low and mournful.
His head rested heavily on Balthazar’s hand as he clearly wanted to turtle in on himself.
“And I failed to see Legion’s evil because I disliked being in their mind.
It was like dropping myself into contaminated water.
So I avoided it and I missed when their motivations shifted.
I missed when they shifted from ally to enemy.
Much might have changed if I had but done this. ”
Balthazar jolted a little. Not at the description of Legion’s mind.
He’d been in plenty of sewers like that himself.
They weren’t pleasant to say the least! It was how he had hunted in the early years.
Find the most loathsome person, mess them all about, and then drink them dry.
It helped to relieve the pressure from what Roan was doing to him and the others.
No, it was the briefest glimpse of a face–not his anymore, but his once–furious and reddened as he shouted at Elgar.
“You’ve failed me, Elgar! The one time I truly need you and you’ve failed me!” he’d shouted.
Shouting at Elgar is like shouting a puppy! No, it’s worse! It’s like kicking a puppy!
“I’m so sorry, Elgar. I should never have said that!” Balthazar quickly got out, shocked and horrified that he would do that to his frail fledgling.
“I was not frail then. I was strong. Or thought I was. But not enough,” Elgar answered. “Master should not be sorry. I failed.”
“No, Elgar, I am sorry,” Balthazar put mental meaning into every word.
“None of it–the War and all that happened–was your fault. This was our fault.” He thumped his chest. “The Immortals! We were responsible for it all. Our selfishness and our pathetic beliefs that we were as great as Daemon–all of us perfectly able to lead supposedly–was what brought us here. You were just trying to help clean up our mess and… and you nearly died.”
And your mind… What did it do to your mind? You won’t even let me look so I can fix it. Can it be fixed?
He wanted to embrace Elgar. Pull his fledgling against him, but that often was too much for Elgar. He would seemingly short circuit from all the touching and attention. So Balthazar forced himself to just brush his thumb of his hand that held his eldest fledgling’s chin along Elgar’s jaw.
“Master,” Elgar’s voice was all breath and another tear joined the first, carving a line along his pale, pale cheek.
Is it wrong of me not to remember, Christian, who I was and what I did? He sent to his newest fledgling.
No, Balthazar. Everyone understands why you won’t go back, Christian assured him.
But it means I cannot apologize for what I’ve done. Elgar was hurt and I had no idea. No idea, because I am hiding from my own misdeeds, Balthazar sent.
Elgar does not want you to torture yourself with this, Christian answered.
Of course not. Both of you would swallow broken glass, gnaw off your limbs or worse to stop from hurting me, Balthazar replied bitterly. I’m being a coward. I’m pretending that if I don’t remember then I’m not responsible. But it doesn’t work like that.