Chapter 3 - Ameera
3
AMEERA
I sigh in relief as Anson’s eyes finally flutter closed, and he goes limp on the floor next to me. His extreme reaction to regaining full consciousness after three nights of mindless feeding was expected, but far more horrifying to witness than when I turned Samuel. I shake my head and brush away the tears that continue to fall after watching him suffer. My own memories of being turned are hazy after so many centuries, but I don’t remember it being this traumatic for me either. I hated glamouring him to put a stop to it, but I just couldn’t bear to let it go on any longer. I’ve never been more grateful for my newly discovered ability to glamour other vampires.
“Open your eyes,” I murmur as I touch Anson’s cheek, then capture his gaze with my glamour when he obeys.
As his sire, I can compel him to do as I say without using my glamour, especially this early on. The compulsion to obey weakens with time, but until then, it allows a vampire to control their progeny until they learn to do so themselves.
I pull him up onto his feet and lead him back to the bed, his expression blank as I suppress his emotions so he doesn’t panic again. He sits on the mattress with his arms limp at his sides and I coax him into drinking more blood before urging him to lie down and pulling the blankets over him. Then I ease his mind back into unconsciousness before brushing his hair away from his eyes.
My heart aches to see him like this, but it’s far better than losing him forever. It’s worth the guilt, and if that makes me selfish, then so be it. I lean down and press a soft kiss to his slack lips with my love for him aching in my chest, then rise and leave the room, closing the door and locking it behind me. I hate imprisoning Anson like this, but it’s not safe for him to be around anyone else but me right now.
I go upstairs and cross the old Victorian house I call home to the modernized kitchen and find Samuel already there, heating a glass of blood in the microwave. He sees me and frowns as he pulls his meal out, then crosses the room and hands it to me. I take a sip as he goes over to the fridge and pulls out another bag of blood and a glass from the cupboard.
“Any change?” he asks as he pours blood into his glass.
I sigh. “He’s himself again, but...” I trail off, not wanting to tell him just how badly Anson is reacting to his new circumstances. If my daytime resting place wasn’t soundproofed, he’d have heard it for himself.
Samuel grimaces as he places his glass inside the microwave. “The first few days are unpleasant.”
I nod and fight the urge to touch my throat, where Anson gripped me with so much rage in his blackened eyes. I was never in any real danger from him, even if it frightened me a bit, but it makes me worry he’ll never forgive me for what I’ve done. I stifle the wave of despair that threatens to engulf me at that thought.
As a distraction, I glance over at Anson’s phone, where it’s sitting on the nearby counter plugged into an outlet. I wake the screen and see that Dre Selvaggio has called several times again, then scroll through his more and more irritated and demanding text messages. There’s a few missed calls from someone I don’t know named Wai Lin Chan, and Amber has called and texted multiple times, too. I sigh. I plan on ignoring the calls from this Wai Lin person, and I’ve been putting Dre and Amber off with text messages for the last three days, impersonating Anson and telling them he’s still resting after our battle against the twins, but it won’t work much longer. I’ll have to tell at least Dre the truth soon. I’m just not ready yet.
A knock on the back door captures our attention, and Samuel crosses the room to answer it. It’s Harrison, the head of my daytime guards, on the other side with a grim expression. And just behind him stands Dre Selvaggio, his face tense and angry.
“Where the fuck is he?” Dre says before Harrison has a chance to say anything, pushing his way through the doorway. “And don’t feed me any bullshit about him resting. It’s been three fucking days.”
Harrison gives me a helpless shrug as he follows the detective into the house. I told him to bring Dre straight to me if he showed up. Harrison knows what happened to Anson, since I couldn’t very well keep it from him.
“Well?” Dre demands as he spreads his hands wide.
All eyes focus on me as I stare unmoving at the detective. So much for not being ready to tell him the truth. “Come with me,” I say as I set my glass on the counter and motion for Dre to follow. I lead him farther into the house and into my study, then close the door behind us. This won’t be easy for Dre to hear and I want to do it in private and with him sitting down.
He gawks around the room with its black paneled walls and matching furniture and bookshelves. Inevitably, his attention lands on the large oil painting in a gilded frame that hangs on the wall behind my desk. It was a gift my sire had commissioned in the early 1800s and it looks its age. It depicts the two of us together; him standing with an open book in hand wearing a high collared jacket with long tails and me sitting next to him in a long, flowing gown. Dre focuses on my image in the painting, then he looks at me with wide eyes.
I nod. “It’s me, and that’s my sire.” I point at one of the chairs in front of my desk. “Have a seat,” I say as I sit down in the chair next to him, since it doesn’t feel right to sit behind my desk to tell him about his friend. Then I give him a sympathetic expression. I like the detective and want to break this news to him as gently as I can.
He frowns. “What’s going on?”
I sigh. “The night after we defeated the Twins, Vanessa Durant broke into this house and confronted Anson with a gun.”
His brows furrow. “But she was dead.”
“Apparently not,” I continue. “They fought over the gun and she shot Anson before I could kill her.”
Dre’s face pales. “Is he... is he…”
“Yes, he died, but he didn’t stay that way. I turned him.”
“Turned him?” Dre asks, his face blank with what I can only assume is shock.
“Anson is a vampire now.”
Dre blinks, his face even whiter than before, and he stops breathing long enough that I’m afraid he might pass out.
“Breathe, Detective,” I say as I reach out to touch his arm.
He sucks in a breath. “I… I need to see him.”
I frown. “That’s not a good idea,” I say. “It’s not safe. At least not until he’s learned to control himself.”
Dre’s face hardens. “That wasn’t a suggestion. I need to see him.”
I arch a brow at his impudence but choose to let it go. He’s not one of my subjects and a good friend to Anson. He deserves to see the truth for himself. But I will warn him of the dangers of tempting a newly turned vampire with a human this soon.
“You’ll be putting yourself at risk,” I say.
“Like I give a shit about that,” Dre says with a scowl. “Take me to him right now.”
“Very well,” I say and rise to my feet. “But stay close to me and do exactly as I say while we’re in the room with him. And do not look him in the eyes, no matter what.”
He looks pale again, but nods as he stands to follow me.
I take a quick detour to the kitchen to collect Samuel, just in case I need his help to restrain Anson, then lead Dre downstairs. I stop a few yards from the mirror that hides the door to my daytime resting place. I’m not keen on showing a human its location, but Dre has risked his life for Anson and me on multiple occasions, so I trust him to keep it to himself.
“No one can know this room is here,” I tell Dre with a stern glance. “Anson’s life and mine depend upon it.”
“I understand,” he replies, his expression grave. “You have my word. I won’t tell a soul.”
I nod, then step up to the mirror and place my hand on the palm scanner hidden in the glass. I can hear Dre’s heart pounding away in his chest and I’m relieved he’s taking this seriously. I’m also impressed by his bravery despite his obvious fear.
The lock clicks, and I open the door to peer inside the dimly lit room. Anson is still lying under the blankets where I left him, but now his eyes are open and staring blankly up at the ceiling. I’m relieved my glamour is still keeping him calm, but we’ll see how long that lasts when he realizes Dre is in the room.
“I brought someone to see you, zem?r,” I say as I move a little farther inside.
He glances toward me, his gaze still vacant, and even though I used my glamour to suppress his emotions, it’s still disturbing to see him looking at me like that. His attention shifts to my right, where Dre has moved up behind me, and his pale blue eyes shift to pitch black in a heartbeat. In the next instant, he flies up off the bed and flings himself across the room toward the detective with an inhuman snarl, his fangs bared and his hands reaching for him.
“Stop!” I shout, my voice whip sharp and commanding.
Anson jerks to a sudden stop mere feet from me, his attention still riveted to Dre, whose breathing and heart rate have both increased to an unhealthy level. Anson is so lost to his bloodlust, he doesn’t even care that he’s naked.
“You will not feed from this man,” I continue. “He’s your friend. Remember?” I pull my glamour back just enough to free a small measure of his stifled emotions. “You don’t want to hurt him.”
Anson blinks and his eyes lighten a bit, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Dre?”
“It… it’s me,” the detective says as he comes up next to me, his voice wavering.
Anson’s eyes darken again, and he manages a single step in Dre’s direction before I put a stop to it.
“No,” I say. “Not one more step.”
Instead of obeying like I expected, he takes another step and reaches for Dre. Samuel darts around us and forces a snarling Anson back a few feet, then steps behind him and wraps him up in a bear hug to restrain him.
Anson struggles in Samuel’s grasp and snarls out a single word. “Trudo.”
I recognize it as a Latin word he uses for one of his spells, and of course, it doesn’t work because his magic is gone. I see the exact moment he once again remembers what he’s lost and his face crumples with devastation. Then his still blackened and now accusing eyes focus on me.
“What have you done to me?” he asks, his harsh voice laced with pain.
I ignore my rising guilt and capture his mind with my glamour once more. I can sense he’s on the edge of another mental breakdown, and I can’t stomach that happening again. “Stop,” I say as I push his emotions back down where they can’t torment him.
His face goes slack at my command and he relaxes in Samuel’s arms, his now emotionless eyes lightening back to blue and glassing over.
“You need to rest,” I tell him as I step forward to lead him back to the bed. I get him settled under the blankets again, then turn to find that Dre isn’t in the room anymore. Good. Then I look at Samuel, who’s frowning at me.
“This is bad,” he says as he nods toward Anson.
I sigh. “I know,” I murmur, then walk toward the door with Samuel trailing behind me.
We exit the room, and I ensure the door closes and latches behind us. Dre is pacing back and forth in my sitting room, his face pale as a ghost and his expression distraught. He stops when we approach.
“What the fuck was that?” he asks as he flings a hand out toward the mirror. “What the hell’s wrong with him? Neither of you acts like that.”
The poor na?ve man hasn’t a clue about the true nature of vampires. He’s obviously never been around any who behave like Anson just did. Samuel and I are in the minority, along with my sire, with our ability to control ourselves and retain some of our humanity. Most of our kind are cold and detached from suppressing all of their emotions or little more than savages from a complete lack of control. Rarely does any achieve a functional balance between the two extremes, and it can take years if they do manage it. But I’m not sure Dre is ready to hear that or know there’s a very real chance Anson won’t be able to find that balance. I don’t want to admit that possibility to myself, let alone admit that it would mean the man I loved when he was human would be gone then.
“Anson is a new vampire,” I say. “It will take some time for him to adjust and learn control.”
“How long?”
“That depends on him,” I say, hedging the truth for his benefit as much as mine. “But Samuel and I will help him as much as we can.” I motion toward the mirror. “Until then, you can see why it’s not safe to tempt him.”
Dre nods. “That foreign word he said. That was one of his spells, wasn’t it? Why didn’t anything happen?”
I sigh, knowing I can’t keep this truth from him, either. “He lost his magic when he died.”
His brows furrow. “But you brought him back. Shouldn’t that have brought his magic back, too?”
I shake my head. “Vampires lack the inherent life force necessary to sustain our auras, so we must rely on the blood of others to do that. A mage’s magic is an innate part of them that’s fed by their own life force. He lost that life force when he died.”
Dre’s brow furrows. “So… his magic is just… gone?”
“I’m afraid so,” I say as I ignore the guilt twisting away inside me. I remember my sire mentioning a vampire mage from long before my time, but Anson obviously isn’t one, or he’d still have his powers.
“This is really bad,” Dre says. “Magic is his whole identity.”
And there’s another dose of guilt that’s getting harder and harder to shut out.
Dre’s eyes widen in horror. “Oh, my God. What about the ward on his house?” He gasps. “What about Amber? How is she going to handle this?”
I don’t know the answer to any of those questions, so I say nothing.
“This is really, really bad,” he says, reiterating his earlier words.
“Is it worse than him being dead?” I ask, my temper flaring with irritation. “Or would you rather I let him die?”
“Of course not,” Dre says, glaring at me. “But he might feel differently about it. He wasn’t exactly a fan of your kind until he fell in love with you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, my tone anything but apologetic as I step closer to Dre, my vision sharpening and my fangs lengthening with my anger. “I didn’t have time to ask him while he was bleeding out all over my kitchen floor from a gunshot wound to the neck.”
Dre steps backward, wisely moving his gaze away from mine as he does. I follow him, but stop when Samuel’s brief touch on my arm makes me realize what I’m doing. Bollocks. My control is slipping with all the emotional upheaval of the last few days, and I need to get a grip for Anson’s sake as much as mine. I exert my will and get my anger under control enough that my vision normalizes and my fangs retract.
“What’s done is done,” Samuel says with a worried glance at me. “There’s no sense bickering about it.”
“True enough,” I say, then address Dre again. “I apologize, Detective. I let my emotions get the best of me.”
“I’m sorry too,” Dre says with a grimace. “This is just a lot to take in.”
I nod. “We just need to focus on Anson and helping him get through this.” If he gets through this.
“What can I do?” Dre asks.
“You can keep this to yourself,” I say.
He frowns. “But what about his sister? She deserves the truth.”
“Do you want to be the one to tell her about this?” I ask with an arched brow.
He blanches at my suggestion. “Hell, no. She won’t be able to handle it, and I won’t know how to deal with the fallout.”
“Then tell her whatever you need to convince her that Anson is fine until he’s able to tell her himself.” If he’s ever able to do so. Bollocks. These negative thoughts aren’t helping, but I can’t seem to stop having them.
He sighs. “I get it. I’m just not sure how this is going to work.”
“We could give him Anson’s phone,” Samuel says. “Then he can answer his texts at all times instead of just at night like you’ve been doing.”
Dre’s eyes widen. “That was you?”
I nod. “He wasn’t fully aware until tonight. It seemed the best way to keep you from worrying about him.”
“Well, you failed at that,” he says. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth from the start?”
“Because I didn’t want to give you false hope.”
“False hope?”
“There was a very good chance turning him wouldn’t work. It fails more times than not, and I didn’t want to make things worse for you or his sister if he didn’t survive.”
“Oh,” he says with a frown, then purses his lips for a moment. “I’ll keep this all to myself, but you have to keep me in the loop from now on.”
“I will,” I say. “But be forewarned. It will take some time before he’s fully himself again.” If he ever is.
“How long?” Dre asks.
I shrug. “Days, weeks. It all depends on him.” I tilt my head toward the mirror. “But the sooner I get back in there to work with Anson, the sooner it will happen.” If it happens. I stifle a growl at yet another negative thought. They can piss off anytime now.
He nods. “Then I’ll let you get to it.”
“Samuel,” I say. “Will you walk him out, please?”
“Yes, Sire,” my progeny says, then ushers Dre upstairs as I turn to face the door to my room.
Then I’m left to confront my reflection in the mirror, and the unmistakable guilt and fear in my eyes that have me doubting myself and my ability to help Anson transition into his new life as a vampire.