Chapter The Amauri-Bowan Affair
The Amauri-Bowan Affair
For much of the world, the traditions of Burden’s Moon revolved, in some abstract form or another, around surviving the brutality of winter and the depths of darkness.
For vampires, it was a time of freedom.
When the days shortened and night ruled, vampires were untethered by the sun’s restrictions.
Instead of bonfires and feasts — which they couldn’t enjoy anyway — they threw monthlong parties, took extravagant vacations, went snow camping, or simply enjoyed the perks of being able to stay up far past their usual limits.
Dahlia didn’t know what to make of it.
She understood that things would be different, and perhaps many of the traditions she’d grown up with wouldn’t translate to her new existence.
She’d gotten used to the wild parties that always hit The Lush like a tidal wave around the holiday, and that was certainly different than what she was used to.
But it was one thing to know it and quite another to experience it.
When she was used to breaking out the boxes of decorations and making plans with Cecilia for their annual Moonrise junkfood feast, all the Amauris around her were hopping on jets, planning ragers, or cramming as much into their social calendar as they could manage.
Prior to becoming a vampire, she never would’ve claimed to be a particularly devout worshipper of the gods, or even someone who loved the holiday.
It hadn’t exactly been a priority in her childhood home.
But she’d come to love the traditions she shared with Cecilia, and it never occurred to her that someday she wouldn’t be able to share those with a partner or their children.
It was a good thing, then, that she had Colin.
“I know what you mean,” he said, poking at a crouton in his salad. “It was a hard adjustment for me, not doing those things with Alastair, but we both adapted eventually. And if I’m being honest, I’ve come to really enjoy not having so many family obligations around the holiday.”
Dahlia pretended to sip from the synth she’d ordered. They both knew she wasn’t drinking it, but it felt too awkward to sit there and watch someone eat without at least a beverage in hand.
“I don’t want to force things on the Amauris,” she admitted, “but I don’t want to just abandon the parts of the holiday that mean something to me, either.”
“And you shouldn’t!” Colin waved his fork at her with enough gusto that a little splatter of salad dressing hit the white tablecloth.
“Listen, these vampires are a loud, pushy bunch. They like getting their way, but the secret is they like pleasing us more. You’ve got to assert yourself and make sure they know what you need to be happy.
If that’s starting some new traditions around Burden’s Moon, then so be it. ”
“What’d you do with Alastair?” she asked, fascinated by the idea of her adopted father getting exactly his way. It was hard to imagine him adapting to traditions he couldn’t see the value in, or doing something silly like putting on a festive sweater.
Colin tipped his head from side to side as he chewed.
His colored glasses slid a little on the bridge of his nose before he pushed them up with a knuckle.
“Well, I tried a lot of different things over the years. For a long time, I forced him to go to at least one Moonrise or Moonset party, but it was such an obligation that eventually it sucked the fun out of it for me too. And you know, it didn’t feel good, watching him not be able to really participate in the way I could. ”
Dahlia nodded. She wouldn’t have liked that, either. Felix needed to be part of whatever she did, not slotted in as an afterthought. Ideally, all of the Amauris would be part of whatever she did.
“So what do you suggest?” she asked, rubbing the stem of her glass between her forefinger and thumb.
Colin shrugged. “Make new traditions. Take all the good things out of yours and the good things out of Felix’s and mash them together like a festive baby.”
“That’s kind of what I was thinking,” she said, eyebrows raising. “Actually, I had an idea.”
“Go on.”
Dahlia flattened both hands on the tabletop and leaned forward, as if she were about to impart a great secret she didn’t want the restaurant to overhear. “I want us to do something. Throw a party, maybe.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Us? As in your father and your anchor?”
“Yes,” she answered, grimacing a little. “Do you think that’s a terrible idea?”
To his credit, Colin didn’t immediately balk. He also didn’t exude enthusiasm, either. Instead, she got a perfectly reasonable noncommittal nod and headshake combination. “I don’t think it’s an impossible idea,” he allowed.
“It wouldn’t be a big one,” she assured him. “Just the four of us. And maybe Tomas?”
“It’s not impossible,” he said again.
Dahlia licked her lips. “Right?”
“Right,” he dragged out.
She pretended to sip her synth again to hide her grimace. Not impossible. Sure. We’ll see about that.
It turned out to not be impossible at all. At least, logistically speaking. Anybody could plan a small family party, after all. The hard part was getting anyone to treat it like one.
Dahlia sat on the edge of the couch and glanced around the room with growing dismay. Felix lounged beside her, one ankle propped up on his knee, while her fathers sat on the couch opposite them. Tomas had occupied the chair by the fireplace, a glass of alcoholic synth in hand.
No one spoke.
Cheerful holiday music filled the air alongside the crackle of the fire.
She’d commandeered an Amauri-owned penthouse above the glitter of downtown United Washington for their little get-together.
Colin advised her that it would probably be a bit much to ask Alastair or Felix to enter each other’s spaces, so she’d settled on a place that felt a little more neutral and spent a couple hours decorating it.
A sparkling garland of glass and silver beads had been draped over the fireplace mantle, and large pillar candles in cut crystal containers glowed on every flat surface.
It felt strange only setting out a small platter of cheese, meats, and chocolate for Colin, but she channeled the energy she might’ve otherwise put into preparing food into more decorations, more candles, and more flowers.
Bouquets of white roses perfumed the air, and by the time she was done, she was proud to bits over the little winter wonderland she’d crafted.
And then the guests arrived. They’d barely managed the minimum of smalltalk before Felix and Alastair settled into a staring contest. Her husband smirked. Her father glared. The longer it went on like that, the worse the tension got.
Despite the pile of perfectly wrapped gifts on the coffee table and the festive music, it didn’t feel much like a party. If anything, it felt like the start of a bad joke.
Four vampires and an arrant walk into a Burden’s Moon party…
Dahlia sent Colin a pleading look. Sucking in a bracing breath, he summoned a wide smile and slung his arm around his vampire’s shoulders. “So,” he chirped, “this is nice, isn’t it? Our daughter did such an incredible job with the decorations.”
Alastair tapped his cane on the floor. Tilting his silver head slightly toward his anchor, he gruffly replied, “Of course she did. She’s good at everything she does.”
Dahlia flushed. “Not everything,” she muttered, picking at the polish on her thumbnail.
One thing she didn’t love about being a vampire was that her nails had gotten a lot thicker and sharper. The change made her a little self-conscious, which meant she’d also gotten really into manicures recently.
“That’s the one thing we can agree on,” Felix announced. Laying a hand on her wrist, he stalled her nervous picking. “Though I’ve got some complaints about her guest list.”
Checking his phone, which had been vibrating off and on for the last few minutes, Tomas drawled, “I don’t know. She got the ratio mostly right. Next time all she needs to do is leave the one Amauri in the room off the list.”
Felix turned a sharp smile toward her cousin. Tapping the puncture wounds in his neck, he replied, “If you recall, there are two Amauris.”
Alastair glowered. “Do not—”
“What? Complain about having to share air with the man who pointed a gun in my face and kidnapped my bride?” Felix’s voice hardened in the way she knew meant he wasn’t playing around or poking at the Bowans just for fun anymore. “Sorry, I don’t forgive as easily as Dahlia.”
Alastair bared his teeth. Shaking off Colin’s hand, he leaned forward to remind her husband, “You kidnapped my daughter. You didn’t even have the decency to bring her to her family before you sank your fangs into her.
You didn’t court her properly and you didn’t show her an ounce of the fucking respect she’s owed.
I haven’t even begun to forgive you, boy. ”
“Alastair,” Colin warned, drawing him back into the cushions. “We talked about this.”
Felix gave Alastair a disdainful look. “And you left her to bleed out on the rooftop, knowing full-well that there was a good chance she’d be turned. You abandoned your daughter, Bowan. You’re fucking lucky she’s deigned to have a relationship with you at all.”
“There was no way for him to know his blood would take,” Tomas snapped. “We’d never abandon our own. Unlike you family-killing degenerates.”
“Hey!” she snapped, standing abruptly and cutting off what was likely the prelude of Felix pulling out the gun he thought she didn’t know he’d brought.
Sending a sweeping glare around the room, she reminded them, “This is my first Burden’s Moon as a vampire and my first one without Cece in— in— since I was five!
I cannot and I will not have my family fighting. Understood?”
Dahlia hadn’t realized how upset she really was until she started talking. Humiliated by the way her chin had begun to wobble, she braced her hands on her hips and turned away from them all quickly.
“Aw, fuck,” Felix breathed. The warmth of him radiated down her spine a moment before he wrapped his arms around her middle. “Don’t cry, please. We’ll stop fighting.”
Colin hurried around the coffee table to stand in front of her. “We know how much this means to you,” he assured her, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye with his knuckle. “No more fighting. Right, Alastair? Tomas?”
In a moment, she was surrounded by fretting vampires. Felix let them in close with hardly more than a growl, which she considered great progress.
Alastair smoothed a hand over her hair, ignoring the way her husband dragged her backward into his chest. “I apologize,” he muttered, lips tight with displeasure.
Tomas didn’t reach for her, which was probably smart. Instead, he fished for something in his pocket. Pulling out a key fob, he said, “We might not get along, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work together sometimes.”
Dahlia gave him an odd look as he dangled the key fob in front of her face. “What are you talking about?”
“This is the spare,” Tomas informed her, a sly grin spreading across his handsome face. “You should probably beep it.”
Felix skimmed his hands down her arms. Guiding her right hand away from her hip to accept the key fob, he nudged her toward the large windows that overlooked the street. “C’mon, pet. We started a group chat for this. You gotta make it worth the sacrifice.”
Completely lost, Dahlia gave them all baffled looks as she slowly walked toward the windows. Squinting against the glare from the lights, she peered down at the street below and raised the key fob.
No sooner had her thumb hit the button than a flash of headlights lit up a dark corner of the street.
There, parked between two street lamps, was her car — or a new, redder version of the car Tomas had totalled.
Gasping, she cried, “My car! You got my— Wait, who’s getting out of…”
Her heart stopped when a miniature pink-clad figure climbed out of the passenger’s seat. She was too high up to see features clearly, but she didn’t need to. She knew who that was in the same way she’d know the shape of her own reflection.
Felix’s hand settled on the small of her back when she whispered, “Cece?”
Almost like she could hear Dahlia, the pink figure tilted her head up toward the penthouse. One tiny arm raised in a wildly enthusiastic wave as she jumped up and down, like she wanted to be absolutely certain she was seen.
Dahlia pressed herself against the glass, too astonished to do more than stare as her best friend grabbed the hand of a dark, helmeted figure that had slipped from the driver’s seat. The two figures crossed the snowy street, clearly aiming for the building’s entrance.
They were coming inside. They were there.
“Cece! Cece is here!” she cried, ripping herself away from the windows. Sprinting across the room in her sparkly stilettos and crystal-covered dress, she barreled past the grinning Bowans to get to the door.
She was so busy tearing toward the penthouse’s entrance that she didn’t pay any attention to the men who gathered in the sitting area.
Felix stood next to Alastair, hands tucked into his pockets and chin lifted with pride. “We did all right,” he murmured, nudging Alastair with his elbow.
The older vampire sniffed. “You sure we can’t convince her friend to move?”
“Nah,” Felix replied, “but we can give Dahlia this.”
Job done, Tomas tucked his phone away. “Whatever makes her happy.”