Broken Heart 01 I'm the Vampire, That's Why (13 page)

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"Uh, Mom?"

Patrick had closed his mind to mine. One day, I was gonna figure out how to do that, too. He poked around enough in my head without me knowing it.

I looked atBryan and found him staring at me with a funny expression on his face.

"You look different," he said.

"I know." I heard the pounding of his heart and of Jenny's. Those little organs were beating a mile a minute. Fear rolled off my kids as they gaped at me.

"I'm not a monster," I said, looking at Jenny. She met my gaze, but still seemed distrustful. And she was so scared.
Oh sweet baby girl. It's okay
. "But something very bad happened to me… and because it did, I've changed."

Bryanfrowned. "You mean literally, right? Not emotional, but real. Something physical."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised atBryan 's intuitiveness. And that he knew how to use "literally" in a sentence.

The time had come to tell them the truth. I squared my shoulders and looked at Bryan and Jenny. Then, I admitted, "I'm a vampire."

Bryan and Jenny looked at each other, then at me, then at each other again.

They burst into laughter.

While this reaction was certainly preferable to screaming and wailing, it was disconcerting. And weirdly unsatisfying.

"I'm serious. I'm a vampire. I'm even one of Seven Sacred Sects."

The tongue twister brought on fresh gales of merriment.Bryan brushed his sister's hair behind her ear.

"See, Jenny? She's just playing a trick on us."

For all her giggling, I noticed that Jenny hadn't moved away from her brother's protection. I was nonplussed. How did I convince them I was a vampire without scaring the crap out of them? How did I tell them I was one of the undead… that I would never grow old and never change appearance? That I would outlive them?

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These worries cut me to the very quick. Maybe my kids sensed the change in my mood because their laughs faded.

"Were you really sick, Mom? Are you sure you feel better? You look so pale."

Bryan's solicitous comments were surprising. In typical male fashion, he eschewed illness, particularly mine. Like most men,Bryan chose to growl and fuss rather than nurture and show compassion.

At a loss to explain everything that had happened since Wednesday night, I decided it would be better to wait for the Saturday night meeting. At least then all the parents would be together with Consortium members… and Patrick would be there. I wouldn't be alone, floundering my way through explanations.

"Why don't you two go back to bed? We'll talk about this tomorrow."

"Will you get up in the morning with us?" asked Jenny in a polite little voice she reserved for Sunday school teachers and boys who doubted her ability to throw a baseball.

"No. I… uh…"

"Dr. Stan is taking us on a picnic," she said in the same awful tone. "Damian promised to catch me a frog."

I heard her message.
If you won't be there then how can we count on you? You've let us down. How
can we trust you? You've abandoned us, just like Daddy
.

"Jenny, cut it out. You're acting stupid."Bryan yawned. "I'm going to bed. Get out of my room, squirt."

"I want to stay with you."

"No way."

"Please,Bryan . I don't want to go out with…
her
."

Hurt was a lightning strike in my heart. I tried to tell myself she was just upset, but still… I was her mother. She should never doubt my love. Never.

Before I could decide what to do, I felt an alteration in the air. A silver mist formed, shimmering into a neck-biting gorgeous male. Patrick. He stood next to the bed, looking at the children. "You will not remember me," he commanded softly. "Neither of you saw your mother this night. Sleep,
clann
, and enjoy wonderful dreams."

The kids closed their eyes, slumped against each other, and fell into an immediate, deep sleep. Sheesh.

Why hadn't I thought about doing that? I had the ability.

"You're still getting used to your powers," said Patrick. "Once you learn how to use your new skills, they will become second nature."

Patrick looked at Jenny and to my amazement, my little girl rose into the air, Mr. Fluffykins dropping from her loose grip. As she drifted toward me,Bryan sprawled onto his stomach and snored lightly.

I wrapped my arms around the floating Jenny and buried my face into her hair. Terror ripped through
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me. I never wanted to lose my children. How did you survive such a thing?

Day by day. Moment by moment. Sometimes, you do not get by at all. You wish for death. You wish for a second chance. You beg God and bargain with the Fates and in the end, you understand that your heart will always feel empty, that your soul will never heal from the wound.

Oh, Patrick.

He looked at me, those terrible memories still in his eyes, and offered a small smile. "It was hurting you to talk to your children. It was not possible for you to enlighten them and protect them."

Patrick's gaze caressed Jenny's face. "Aine had seen her second winter before… ah, before she left this world. For her birthday that year, I carved her a horse from a
leamhán sléibhe
—a Wych Elm."

"She wasn't your only child?"

"No, but she was my only daughter. My sons were older." He looked at me. "Three. I had three children."

Patrick had been a father. And he still mourned his babies. My heart broke for him and I wanted to weep.

"I don't need your tears, love." His fingers brushed my cheek. "But I thank you for your grief, for your understanding. Go on, now. Put your daughter to bed."

"Will you stay?"

It's not wise to stay near the one I want so very much and yet cannot have.

He glimmered silver for an instant.

Then he was gone as if he'd never stood there.

For the first time in three days, I tucked my little girl into bed. It always amazed me how the mundane details of life were the ones that meant so much.

Her room was tidy. Jenny was naturally fastidious, which meant she never had to be told to clean her room and she always had an opinion about the cleanliness of other rooms.

I pulled the pink bedspread up to her chin and stroked her alabaster cheek. There was nothing in the world more enchanting than a child asleep. Just like there was nothing in the world more frustrating than a child awake.

After I made sure her glass of water was full and the night-light was still on, I retrieved Mr. Fluffykins from Bry's room and left the stuffed bunny near Jenny's shoulder.

I resisted the urge to climb into bed with her and cuddle. Both my kids were affectionate, thoughBryan often pretended to merely tolerate hugs and smooches. But day by day they needed me a little less. I felt that separation keenly and yet, I also encouraged those seeds of independence. Reluctantly, I might add.

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I kissed Jenny's forehead and left her bedroom. I wandered downstairs. I no longer felt like going into the basement to purge the boxes gathering dust. Did vampires have garage sales or give stuff to Goodwill?

Probably not.

Restless and bored, I flopped onto the couch, and reached down to grab the remote from the coffee table. Instead, my hand glided across the parchment pages of an open book.

A book that was not mine. It looked like a medieval text—the kind only seen behind glass in museums.

Legends of the Seven Ancients, Ruadan the First
was written in calligraphy at the top. Around the edges of the story were beautifully inked pictures of creatures I'd once thought were mythical. The writing was precise and straight—the hand of a thoughtful man. I traced one of the creatures—a male fairy with gossamer wings who wore a green tunic and a mischievous smile.

Well, then. There was nothing left to do but read…

Ruadan, The First

As written by Lorcan, Fill don Tuatha de Danann

Once there was a great warrior-magician whose name was Ruadan. To know a man, you must know his story, and all the stories of men begin with their mothers…

Ruadan was the son of magician-healer Brigid and warrior-prince Bres.

Brigid was born the daughter of Dagda, all-father to the Tuatha de Danann, and of Morrigu, the crow queen. Bres was born the son of Fomhoire prince Elatha and of Tuatha de Danann princess Eriu. So, the families bound together their children so that earth and sea magic might rule as one.

The Fomhoire were of the night. They were cunning warriors who knew the secrets of sea magic. Some called them deamhan.

The Tuatha de Danann were of the day. They were wise magicians who had mastered earth magic.

Some called them sidhe.

Many believed Bres would bring peace to the troubled nations. When he became of age, he married
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