Blood Rebellion

"Granddaughter." Wylend Arden had come. Griffin had probably told him about Roff—father and son were becoming close. Except for the day I’d discovered he was my grandfather, Wylend and I hadn’t spent much time together.

"Em-pah." I borrowed Kyler and Cleo’s term and hugged him when he sat beside me. Roff lay on my bed, as still as death, though his body was still intact.

"My father explained to me once why the Karathian Witches and Warlocks have no power over death," Wylend settled more comfortably in his chair after I let him go.

I turned to look at my grandfather’s face when he spoke. His eyes were slightly unfocused, though they didn’t change as I’d seen Griffin’s do. "Death is not the evil that many believe it to be," my grandfather said. "So many of us do whatever we can to avoid it as long as possible." He drew in a breath before continuing, as if he were carefully choosing his words. "We even grasp at straws, sometimes, to keep death away from us," he said. "But death is not the enemy. It takes us when our bodies are no longer prepared to carry on in our current lives. Brings us peace and freedom from pain. It is life that is often the enemy. The siren that convinces us to hold onto it as long as we can, even though we are filled with pain or have lived long past our usefulness. My father always said that we should let our life leave us when it is time and do it gladly, instead of with sorrow and bitterness. Something else awaits us and when we arrive, we will wonder what it was that held us back from it so long."

"Em-pah, right now might not be the best time for that lecture," I wiped tears away. I was surprised I had any left.

"I know," he lifted me from my chair as easily as any vampire might and settled me on his lap. "I didn’t get the chance to hold you when you were small. Or kiss your scraped elbows or skinned knees. So many things are owed to us, Granddaughter. I hope your little comesula lives, because I do not wish to see my granddaughter’s heart broken."

He sat quietly with me for the rest of the night. I had hope when the night ended, although there was no dawn and never would be where my palace lay. Roff’s body was still intact, albeit pale and still. It could take as few as three days and as many as seventeen, in Wlodek’s experience, to make a full turn. My hopes had risen the barest of fractions when my Larentii put me to bed.

* * *

I’d been sleeping in Reemagar’s suite, but they’d put me in with Drake the night before. I woke with a very amorous Falchani beside me. Drake took care of me and took care of business. I was clean and dressed, too, when I went to sit with Roff.

"Why is Roff lying on his stomach?" Flavio was waiting when I walked into my suite and asked the question as I settled on a chair beside him.

"Kifirin came and said we had to do this, to allow his wings to grow if he lives and thrives." Flavio looked tired as I explained what I knew. I recognized that weariness.

"Lissa, you must call me if he begins to wake at any time. A sire must be there—it is not only the law, but for the welfare of the new vampire. They feel the connection with a sire and I must feed him the first time—it establishes the bond. Do you understand?"

I thought I did, although nobody had been there for me when I woke the first time. There were no reassurances for me when my eyes had opened in an unfamiliar place. A frigid cellar had greeted me, along with a signed cocktail napkin lying on a desk, indicating my status as the source of a bet between two vampires.

"Lissa, don’t go down that path." Flavio was watching as those emotions played across my face. "My vampire father has wished many times that he might have been there to welcome you when you rose the first time. Many of us would have given much to watch your eyes open. That was not to be, my Queen. I beg you not to regret your turning. It has become a blessing to all of us."

It didn’t feel like a blessing at the moment as I gazed at Roff’s nude body, now lying face down on my bed. "Flavio, you look exhausted. Go eat something and get some rest. I promise to send for you if he shows any signs of waking. I want Roff to have the best of care."

"I will, little sister. I will answer your call immediately if you send mindspeech." I nodded to him and he folded away. Kyler had done this for him—given him that ability plus mindspeech and a few other things, although he was still mostly vampire. I sat down to keep watch over Roff. Giff came in after a while with a breakfast tray. Toff had not been allowed inside the room, lest he reach for his father. I understood that feeling all too well; I wanted to reach for his father as well. I’d been told it was better not to disturb the body. I did talk to him once in a while; they hadn’t told me I couldn’t.

Giff and I sat and ate breakfast, though neither of us was hungry. It was something to do—a distraction. I warmed our tea several times using the power that I had, though I seldom used it. Meetings with the Council had been canceled. Thank goodness, another tour of the palace would not be coming through for a few more days. Drake and Drew had guards arranged to check every tourist that came to the palace from this point forward.

We’d learned that Shala had rubbed herself against the tour bus driver, promising him who knew what, and was allowed on the bus. The driver now faced charges and sat in an underground cell, wearing the cuffs that could control a vampire. Yes, a vampire had aided my would-be murderer, for the promise of sex. The whole thing sickened me. I was afraid to turn my thoughts to Gabron. I still wore his ring but thought many times of flinging it away or sending it back to him, wherever he was. I thought about shouting at him and telling him we were done. Yet there the ring was, still on my finger. I sighed.

Giff left me after a while—Rolfe had come for her. He lifted her in his arms and carried her from the room. Grant crept in with papers for me to sign and other things that desperately needed my attention. We spoke quietly together, I signed and read and dispensed the Queen’s words and wisdom. Wisdom. What a useless word to me at the moment. I didn’t have any. It had floated away from me the moment I saw the light beginning to die in Roff’s eyes.

"Grant, who turned you?" I looked at him. He was one of the hundred thousand or so from Earth and I had never met his sire. Grant was more than nine hundred years old—that’s all I knew about him.

"Sarita turned me," he sighed. "I was barely twenty and dying of an infection. I was really sick. I think she hoped I would be the child she couldn’t have. I was a disappointment to her, when I woke. She walked into the sun a week later."

"Who helped you after that?" Grant now had my full attention.