Chapter 7 #2
The boy beamed at her praise, carefully placing his tub beside the growing pile of equipment on the porch. His eyes sparkled with barely contained questions as he bounced from foot to foot, clearly torn between his desire to help and his burning curiosity about the vampires.
"Ibni - that means my son, right?" Tobi asked.
"Yes," she smiled at him. "Do you speak Arabic?"
"Yes, but it's been a couple hundred years."
"One more trip should do it," Tyr told him with a shoulder bump, heading back to the truck. "Unless our young friend here wants to help with the last few boxes?"
"Yes!" Yousuf sprinted back down the steps, alight with enthusiasm.
Tyr watched Tobi and Yousuf head back toward the truck, the boy bouncing with each step. The security lights cast long shadows across the snow-dusted walkway, and Tyr noticed a telltale gleam where earlier snowmelt had frozen into a slick patch.
"Careful-" he started to call out, but Tobi was already moving.
Yousuf's feet shot out from under him as he hit the ice. Layla's sharp cry cut through the night air as she lunged forward, but her son was too far away to reach. Before the boy could hit the ground, though, Tobi's hands caught him smoothly under the arms, lifting him clear of the slippery surface.
"Whoa, watch your step there, little man." Tobi set Yousuf back on his feet on a safer patch of concrete. "Ice is tricky stuff, especially when it's hiding under the snow like that."
Tyr's enhanced vision caught the flash of fear that crossed Layla's face from the porch, quickly replaced by relief as she saw her son safely steadied by Tobi's quick reflexes. Her hand pressed against her heart, and Tyr could hear its rapid beating from where he stood.
Tyr moved closer to Layla, catching the lingering tension in her posture. "Hey, it's okay. Kids slip on ice all the time. It's practically a winter tradition."
"Yeah, remember that time in Bergen?" Tobi called over his shoulder as he guided Yousuf around the icy patch. "Must have been, what, winter of 1320? We were ten, and that merchant's son dared us to race across the frozen harbor."
"And you face-planted right into a snow bank." Tyr's lips twitched at the memory. "Father was furious when we came home soaked to the bone."
"Worth it though." Tobi grinned. "I won that bet."
"You did not." Tyr crossed his arms. "You fell before reaching the other side."
"But I got up and finished first!"
"After I stopped to help fish you out." Tyr shook his head at Layla. "He conveniently forgets that part of the story."
"Because it's irrelevant to who crossed the line first," Tobi insisted, helping Yousuf gather a few small boxes from the truck.
"We were about ten," Tyr told Layla. "Mother threatened to lock us in our room until spring thaw after that stunt."
Tobi snickered, his expression bright with mischief. "Mother was always threatening to lock us in our room. Remember that time with the baker's chickens?"
"Don't remind me." Tyr winced at the memory. "Though in her defense, we did deserve it that time."
"The baker wasn't happy either." Tobi guided Yousuf around another icy patch. "Especially when his prized rooster ended up on top of the church steeple."
"How did it get up there?" Yousuf's eyes went wide.
"That," Tyr said firmly, "is a story for another time.
" He could still hear their mother's exasperated lectures about responsibility and proper behavior for merchant's sons.
The memory carried a bittersweet ache - she'd died barely two years later, dying in childbirth as so many women did in those days.
Tobi must have caught his shift in mood because he quickly changed the subject. "Hey Yousuf, want to see something cool?" He set down his load of equipment and crouched beside the boy. "Watch this."
With practiced ease, Tobi scooped up a handful of snow, compressing it between his palms. When he opened his hands, he'd shaped the snow into a perfect miniature bird.
"Wow!" Yousuf carefully set down his own box to examine the sculpture. "How did you do that?"
"Centuries of practice." Tobi's grin widened. "Though I'm still not as good as Tyr. He's the real artist."
The tension finally eased from Layla's shoulders as she watched Tobi and Yousuf carefully navigate back around the icy patch, her son's face bright with concentration as he carried his load.
Layla held the front door wide as they carried the last of the equipment inside. The warm air carried the lingering scents of dinner - something with garlic and tomatoes that made Tyr's nose twitch appreciatively, even though he couldn't eat it.
Tyr took in the spacious entryway with its warm amber glow from handcrafted sconces.
Family photos in mismatched frames lined the stairwell, capturing generations of the wolf pack in various gatherings.
The blend of modern furniture with rustic architectural elements—exposed wooden beams overhead and a massive stone fireplace visible in the adjacent room—spoke to both tradition and practicality.
"Would you like some coffee?" Layla asked hesitantly as they set down their loads. " Beth tells me you can drink that, so I made a fresh pot."
"Oh yeah, please." Tobi's face lit up. "Coffee sounds perfect."
Yousuf's expression crumpled, his earlier excitement vanishing. "But... but I thought vampires only drank blood!" His lower lip trembled slightly as he looked between them. "Isn't that what vampires do?"
"Yousuf!" Layla's cheeks flushed dark red. "That's not polite to ask!"
Tobi couldn't help laughing at the boy's crestfallen expression. "It's alright. And yes, we do drink blood."
Yousuf's eyes grew even wider, practically bouncing in place. "Do you suck their blood from their neck? Like in the movies?"
"Ibni!" Layla covered her face with her hands and let out a mortified moan. "Please, you cannot ask such things!"
Tobi crouched down to Yousuf's level, his expression turning serious as he met the boy's eager gaze.
"Actually, that's a very good question. And you deserve an honest answer.
" He glanced up at Layla apologetically before continuing.
"We do sometimes drink from the neck, but only with someone we're in a relationship with - someone we care about deeply and trust completely. "
"Otherwise," Tobi held up his wrist, tapping the veins visible beneath his fair skin, "we take a polite sip from here. It's much more proper, like having tea with a friend instead of a romantic dinner."
Tyr watched his brother handle the delicate subject with surprising grace. Trust Tobi to find the perfect way to explain vampire feeding habits to a curious child while keeping things both honest and appropriate.
"But," Tobi added, "we can also drink tea, water - any clear liquids really."
"Really?" Hope brightened Yousuf's face again. "So you're not mad that Mama offered you coffee?"
"Not at all." Tobi ruffled the boy's curls. "In fact, your mama's coffee smells amazing. Though I have to admit, blood tastes better to us than just about anything does to humans."
"Better than chocolate milk?" Yousuf's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Even better than chocolate milk," Tyr confirmed solemnly, fighting back a smile at the boy's scandalized expression.
Tobi caught Yousuf's contemplative expression and quickly added, "But that's only for vampires. We're different from humans - our bodies are made to drink blood."
"Right." Tyr nodded, recognizing his brother's concern that the curious child might get ideas about tasting blood. "To humans, blood tastes really icky. Like... if you ever accidentally bit your tongue or your cheek? That metallic taste?"
Yousuf's face scrunched up in disgust. "Ewww, yes! It's gross!"
"Exactly." Tyr tapped the boy's nose gently. "That's because humans aren't supposed to drink blood. Only vampires find it delicious."
"Like how cats love mice but humans don't want to eat them?" Yousuf suggested, his face brightening with understanding.
"Perfect example." Tobi chuckled. "Different creatures need different foods. Just like your caracal likes different food than you do."
"And just like chocolate milk tastes amazing to you but would make a vampire sick," Tyr added.
Layla, who'd been watching their interactions with her son with both amusement and appreciation, beckoned to them. "This way to the kitchen"
Tyr followed Layla through the entryway, his brother at his heels, their boots silent against the worn oak floorboards that carried the subtle scratches of countless wolf claws.
The air held a complex tapestry of scents—woodsmoke from the stone fireplace, the lingering aroma of tonight's venison stew, and underneath it all, the distinctive earthy musk that marked this as wolf territory.
From somewhere deep in the house came the soft bass rumble of a television and the rhythmic creak of a rocking chair.
Despite its size, the pack house wrapped around them with the unmistakable warmth of a well-loved home.
Layla led them through to a modern kitchen, warm yellow lights casting a cozy glow over granite countertops. The coffee maker gurgled as she poured rich dark liquid into two mugs, the aroma filling the space.
"Now that you've met the vampires, ibni, it's time for bed." Layla handed Tyr and Tobi their coffees. "You've stayed up far too late already."
"But Mama!" Yousuf's face fell, his earlier excitement dimming. "I want to help them with the special equipment! Please?" He turned pleading eyes to his mother. "I'll be really good, I promise!"
"It's very late, habibi." Layla's tone carried the weary patience of a mother who'd had this discussion before. "You need your sleep."
Tyr watched Tobi set down his coffee and move closer to Layla, speaking in a low voice meant only for her ears.