Blood War (Page 43)

"She’s fine," Cleo said. "And this is my aunt Lissa." I nodded. Kyler had shielded herself, invisible to her mother.

"Very nice to meet you. What is it that you do?" she asked me.

"Oh, I’m a vampire," I said.

"Unlikely, since you’re here in daylight," she smiled slightly.

"Well, that’s how it started out," I agreed. "But not how it ended up."

"My father is vampire, that’s in the records," my sister sighed.

"So was mine," I agreed. "We don’t speak much, nowadays."

"Because he’s vampire?"

"Because he doesn’t tell me things," I said.

"Mine, too," Ardith agreed. "I think he keeps things from me, or uses the compulsion he has to make things come out the way he wants them to. I got tired of fighting it, after a while. I feel like a puppet and he’s pulling the strings, making all the decisions. Sometimes I wonder how things might have been if he hadn’t been turned."

"Same here," I said. "It gets a little old, using his kids to make things come out right."

"I loved him when I was little—he was up nights and he’d tell me stories at bedtime," Ardith had a faraway look in her eyes. "But when I grew up and got married, well, things changed."

"At least you had that love when you were little," I said. "I never knew my father growing up. I had a stepfather, who resented me because I wasn’t his. I didn’t meet my father until after I’d been made vampire. He sort of popped up, one day. And things haven’t improved much since then."

"I understand. Look, it has been nice meeting you, but I have to get my daughter home and start dinner. Perhaps we’ll meet again, someday." Ardith stood. "Kyler," she called. "Time to go home."

We watched as Kyler at seven jumped off the swing and trotted toward her mother. "Good-bye, Kyler," I said. "We’ll see each other again, I promise." I smiled at her as she took her mother’s hand and walked away.

"I remembered this day," the grown Kyler said, as we watched them disappear around a curve in the sidewalk. "I didn’t know then why you’d be saying something like that to me."

"Now you know," I hugged her.

"Let’s bend time again," Kyler said, and took us out of there. When we arrived at our next destination, it was night and we were standing in a street outside several small shops and eateries. Kyler, at the same age we’d seen her before, was sitting on a stool in a sweet shop, swinging her legs happily and eating ice cream. Griffin sat across a tiny round table from her.

"You’ve got ice cream on your chin, baby." That was Griffin’s voice. He was passing a napkin to the young Kyler.

"Em-pah, what will I be when I grow up?" Kyler asked, as she swiped at her chin with the paper napkin. Griffin leaned over and got the spot she missed.

"Baby, you’ll be amazing when you’re older. Just wait and see. Promise you’ll still love your Em-pah then?"

"I’ll always love you, Em-pah," the seven-year-old Kyler declared, taking another bite of ice cream.

"I’ll always love you, baby," he said. "I promise."

Well, that went for granddaughters. It didn’t hold for daughters, apparently. I felt like crying again.

"Did you ask your daughter the same question, when she was seven?" I was there, standing beside the small table in a blink, asking my father a question when he didn’t have any idea who I was. "Tell me why she’s disillusioned, now."

Griffin looked at me, and I knew he had foresight, even then. "I did the best I could for Ardith," he replied. "Only some things—and some people—were more important."

"I can see that, now," I told him. "And the ones not so important you walk away from, isn’t that right? Even though they might deserve a little better from you. You’re no different from your mother, you know that?" I was crying when I folded away, leaving Cleo and Kyler behind.

* * *

"Lady," Thurlow was inside my private study when I folded in. Well, if he didn’t know before, he did now. He didn’t even blink, I’ll give him that. I wanted privacy so I could break down and sob at my desk. Yet here he was, wanting something.

"Mr. Burghin," I wiped my cheeks with a hand that shook. "What can I do for you?"

"I didn’t know what you’d be, all those years ago. I didn’t even bother to go Looking," Thurlow sighed. "All I knew was that Griffin had flaunted what he had, yet again. Managed to father a child—when he was supposed to be sterile. Didn’t even argue that much with me, when I pointed it out to him and levied the punishment. That should have been my clue. He didn’t argue very much that time, and he always argued. Pointed things out to me that I should have gone to investigate for myself." He shook his head as I stared at him in shock.

"I was so full of myself back then," Thurlow went on as I wiped tears away and gaped. "Thinking how powerful I was and how things were going so well. I picked Kiarra, you know," he laughed humorlessly. "And then set her up as First when she took care of three Ra’Ak. Griffin had been First before that, did you know? I made him Fourth after that. He was very angry and that made me happy, I think. Something that should have been beneath me, you know. I made other mistakes, too. Was sent back to the beginning for those mistakes. I’ve had to work my way back to the present, as you can see. I was sent to make things right between you and me, before I can move forward and take up my old work again. I’m beginning to think that’s an impossibility, Lady. Do you know what the worst part of it is?"

I stared at Thurlow Burghin, my mouth open in surprise, I’m sure. I wanted to sob. His name wasn’t Thurlow. Close, but not. He offered a crooked smile with those sensuous lips. I had no idea if those were truly his or if he’d borrowed them or made them up from nothing. Thorsten—of the Powers that Be stood before me. If he and Griffin had both been there, I might have let loose with the biggest scream of frustration ever. I might have attempted to slap them through a wall. That wouldn’t solve anything, though. Not even a little.

"I no longer use that name," he said, as he watched emotions cross my face.

"Uh-huh," I muttered, looking down at my clean desk. I found myself wishing that Grant, Heathe and Davan weren’t so efficient. And then I remembered that Davan was dead.

"I had nothing to do with that, and wasn’t allowed to interfere with anything other than your life and the protection of it," he said.

"So. Not going by Thorsten, then. What the hell am I supposed to call you, now?" I lifted my gaze to stare at him.