Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas (Kindred, Book 8.1) Page 5

  "How so?" Petra demands, making me realise Lucinda has released the glaze, allowing Petra her last moments of defence under her own cognitive abilities. "Who are you to rule in such a way? You aren't even vampyre!"

  Nosferatin Light blazes bright and clear for a split second. A warning. A show of prowess.

  "I am the Prophesied of the Iunctio, vampyre!" Lucinda says in a cold, hard, level voice. All the more striking in its total lack of volume and emotion. "And this ruling has been seconded by two of my fellow Councillors, and as such, cannot be reversed."

  Who?

  "Who are these other Councillors who come between me and my blood-brother?" Petra demands.

  I feel Lucinda's smile, her wicked sense of elation at having beaten an opponent in the political arena. She has come such a long way, how can I not be proud?

  "The Ambrosia," she says, and I must admit that makes complete sense.

  Of course the ancient and extremely knowledgeable vampyre would seek out my kindred and set things in motion behind my back. But who is the second?

  "And just a little advice, woman to woman," Lucinda adds, and that damn smile is spreading my lips again. "If you're looking for a spy within the Iunctio, don't chose one I have washed in my Light."

  "The Diviner," Petra says with utter incredulity, and I am as incredulous as she. The Diviner? He despises me, and has continually tried to undermine Lucinda.

  Well, he did before she washed him in her Light. Has my wife been establishing a friendly relationship with the over opinionated vampyre on the sly?

  Everything I know I have learnt from you, she says in my mind, and this time I burst out laughing.

  "So, what now?" Petra spits.

  "Now you leave New Zealand, your welcome is outstayed."

  "This is the Iunctio, it is available to all vampyre."

  "Unless they break an Iunctio rule," Lucinda casually replies. "Or," she adds, looking down at her nails absently, as though bored with the whole affair, "they piss a Councillor off so much she calls in her marks and has your name blacklisted on the network."

  "You bitch!" Petra exclaims, hurling herself at the silver bars and suffering for her efforts.

  "Vampyre!" Lucinda says loudly, stepping up to the bars, well within reaching distance should an enterprising, or slightly insane, vampyre attempt to slip a hand between the rungs.

  Get back, I will her mentally, only to receive a, Trust me, in reply.

  "Your choice," Lucinda continues, keeping Petra in her line of sight. "Leave of your own volition and never come back, and your name will be removed from the Iunctio blacklist. Fight me on this, and you will see why I am called the Prophesied."

  Petra stares at her for so long, I wonder if the woman has finally lost all hold on reality. Then with a sneer she says, "You have proven more of a problem than I thought."

  I do not like that tone, that look on her face. I have seen it before. Three and half centuries ago when she attempted to sever my neck.

  "Lucinda!" I cry out aloud, but she will have heard my voice through the Bond.

  The Vampyres with me snarl at the Sanguis Vitam I am expending, responding to the power and my shout in equal measure. Amisi just offers a sigh, and with one last flick of her hand above the keypad, the light changes from red to green and a short series of beeps follow.

  The door clicks open, just as Petra reaches through the bars in vampyre swiftness, using the distraction of the cell door moving to catch my kindred unawares.

  I am through the entrance and beside Lucinda in the next breath, making Petra take an involuntary step back into her cell, breaking the skin on skin contact she had with my kindred. The Prophesied. Who had been in the process of washing the vampyre before her with her Light, using her Lux Lucis Tribuo powers to balance out the Light and the Dark within. Potentially bringing Petra under her line.

  Lucinda has vowed to never do that again, if at all possible. She has three vampyres under her line already, her own family of sorts. She has no wish to add to it. And a vampyre such as Petra being part of that family steals all rational thought.

  Please God, no!

  "Is she..?" I ask, unable to get the rest of the words out of my mouth as it has gone bone dry.

  Lucinda cocks her head, staring at the simpering, now Light-filled, vampyre inside the cells and says, "Fuck." Then nothing else.

  "Fuck? Fuck? What does fuck mean?" I demand, my hands coming to rest on her shoulders and turning her to finally face me.

  "That was too fucking close for comfort," she says with a smile up at me.

  Mon Dieu this woman will be the end of me!

  The smile falls off her face with a gasp.

  "What is it? Are you hurt? Where? Tell me!"

  Another gasp as she doubles over.

  Then Amisi appears at our sides, a beaming smile on her face that seems quite inappropriate with my kindred gasping for breath right now.

  "It's time," the Egyptian Nosferatin says.

  "What is time?" I demand, wondering why as the Champion I seem to be so often ignored by these women.

  They both look up at me and smile.

  "Time to become a daddy," they say in unison.

  All blood leaves my head, and for the first time in over five hundred years I feel... human.

  Scared. Elated. Anxious. Excited. Impatient. Worried.

  In wonder and totally unprepared.

  Chapter 5

  Glorious Christmas Gifts

  It is taking too long and yet hours have already passed in the blink of an eye. Lucinda moans through another contraction and all I can do is soothe her ache with my palm over her lower stomach and a smattering of Sanguis Vitam. Pain is a difficult thing. I can heal her injuries, and dull the ache, but to remove it completely could jeopardise the babies.

  We just don't know what they will be, how they will respond. This is a first in our world.

  "You're doing wonderfully," I murmur in her ear. Her back is to my chest as we rest in a warm bath, the water meant to aid the process and make her more comfortable.

  Nothing is comfortable for my beloved right now.

  I feel lost in my impotence to help, but she insists I am. I cannot see it.

  Her head rests back listlessly on my shoulder and she actually smiles.

  "That was a big one, we must be getting close." Ever the optimist my kindred.

  "I told you before Christmas Eve," I whisper, laying a kiss in amongst her sweat dampened hair, while my hand gently rubs across her belly.

  "We're several days before, Michel."

  "But was I right?"

  "You're always right," she says in a long suffering voice. A rumble of laughter escapes me, both of us now smiling.

  Time passes, we repeat the process again and again, the contractions coming closer and closer still.

  Worry is a constant companion. Nerves are getting the better of me. When the doctor - an Iunctio loyal human - comes in, and attempts to assess how much progress Lucinda has made, my fangs immediately drop and a snarl emerges from the back of my throat as his hand slips beneath Lucinda's belly.

  He pauses, lifts his eyes to mine waiting for my vampyre-within to calm.

  I am not calm and neither is my dragon.

  The urge to glaze him is tremendous in its desire, magenta bathes the room, reflected in his steady blue gaze.

  "Michel," Lucinda chastises. "Let him do his job."

  I slowly close my eyes on hearing Lucinda's strained voice. The delivery is becoming evermore painful.

  I am useless to her. I cannot stop the pain. I cannot stop the urge to protect. I can do nothing for either.

  "Not long now," the doctor is saying, obviously taking the opportunity to assess Lucinda while my eyes were closed. "I'd say within the next hour." He smiles and leaves the room to wait in the antechamber next door, allowing us privacy, and giving my vampyre-within a modicum of space. He'll come as soon as we need him.

  "You're going to be a great father," Lucinda
says in a gap between contractions.

  "I am not so sure of that," I remark, returning my attention to gently rubbing her stomach.

  "Nonsense," she counters. "Look how well you're taking care of me."

  "Oh, ma petite lumière. It is not nearly enough."

  "Michel," she says, sincerity in her voice. "You are everything you need to be for me and the babies. Strong. Powerful. Caring. Considerate. Loving. Masterful. Sexy."

  "Sexy? How is that good for the babies?"

  "Sets an example. For a daughter, she'll see the type of man she should hold out for. For a son, he'll see the type of man he should emulate."

  I am not sure how to answer that. For a moment words fail me. My beautiful, courageous, Light-filled kindred has always seen more in me than I ever have. Memories that she has uncovered today proving how far I am from her ideal.

  "We are a product of our experiences, good and bad," Lucinda says. "It's what we do with those experiences, who we become because of them that counts. You have become a force to be reckoned with, someone who can protect his family with a show of power when need be. But you have also learned to temper that awesome might with tenderness and compassion and... Light."

  She pauses for a contraction, so I cannot respond. It goes on longer this time and makes my darling wife cry through the pain.

  The doctor enters the room, Amisi on his heels. It is time for us to exit the bath, but I am so scared. Scared of the agony awaiting her. Scared that something could go wrong. Scared of what a vampyre will do with two babies in his life.

  Fear is not something I have had to deal with until recent years. Until a strong-willed, defiant, often over-confident hunter walked into my world.

  It takes all of us to assist Lucinda out of the tub and onto the bed for the delivery. Once in place, the doctor offers a quick glance my way in warning and then advises he's taking a peek beneath the sheet.

  The rumble of my growl reverberates around the room. Lucinda grabs my hand in a vice-like grip, her eyes the only thing I see for a moment.

  "I'm so proud of who you've become," my kindred pants, Amisi and the doctor soon forgotten.

  "No, ma douce," I reply, stroking her cheek while my hand holds hers gently, thumb rubbing over the back in a move I know settles her heartbeat. "It is I who am honoured to have such a beautiful woman in my life."

  "Well, you better get used to sharing her," Amisi declares from down the business end of the bed. "Because your life is about to get crowded."

  I stop breathing. I stop blinking. Everything stops.

  I am not sure I know how to do this.

  There is blood. Why had not prepared myself for the blood? Lucinda's cries, as she battles the agony of childbirth, will remain with me for the rest of my eternal life. My soul weeps at my inability to soothe her pain. My dragon roars in his impotent anger.

  I am the Champion of the Iunctio, a five hundred year old vampyre. I am the strongest vampyre known to exist today. I have battled Darkness, I have lost everything only to claw my way back to my prize in the end. I have made mistakes and paid for them dearly. I have lived with horrible memories that run on repeat. And I have been blessed with this magnificent joining, with this wonderful woman. And her Light.

  I am not the vampyre I became upon turning. I am not who Amicus made.

  I am Michel Durand, husband to Lucinda Monk. Kindred Nosferatu to the Prophesied.

  I am Light. Courtesy of my wife.

  And I am to be a father. Again.

  Five hundred years is a long time to deal with your losses, but as I watch the only woman to have ever held my heart and soul and everything that I am in her hand, struggle to deliver my children, I am reminded of my human family. Lost so long ago.

  They are a part of my past, and as Lucinda says, an experience that has moulded me.

  I do know how to be a father. I know I'll be a better one than I was back then.

  "That's it," I encourage my wife. "Not much longer. You're doing beautifully. You take my breath away, ma douce. I am in awe of you."

  She works hard, she gives all of herself for our babies. Her gorgeous hazel eyes, so expressive, so mesmerising, stay focused on mine. Her hand squeezes my fingers in a painful grip that I welcome. If only she could transfer the agony she is feeling to me through that tight hold. Her Light thrums in the room in a comforting pulse, greeting our children into this world. My Sanguis Vitam, called forth by Lucinda's Light, wraps around her body, entwines with the bright white glaze that engulfs the room.

  Power swells, the pictures on the walls rattle, the glass in the window frames crack. A light-bulb shatters, electricity sparking at a power-point socket, setting nearby curtains alight. A small distracted effort on my part extinguishes the flames.

  The doctor encourages with commands to, "Push," and "Breathe," and "One more, Mrs Durand."

  Strange what a few words can do in the middle of battle to soothe your heart.

  Lucinda hears my thoughts, and through the god-awful pain she must be feeling, offers me a smile.

  Mrs Durand, she whispers in my mind. You better believe it, she adds and then...

  My son is born.

  A new life enters the world.

  Amisi lifts him up, a squirming, gunk covered bundle of screaming red. Oh, but he has lungs on him. And ten fingers and ten toes. And a head of black hair. His eyes don't open, so I cannot tell the colour, and Lucinda informed me months ago, that for a while we may not know. I want to though. Will they be hazel like his mother's or blue like mine?

  Amisi wraps him up in warm blankets and lays him down on Lucinda's chest.

  I am stunned silent. My hand still engulfing Lucinda's, but I think it is my grip that is not releasing now. She awkwardly pats his hair with her free hand, a soft smile gracing her tired lips.

  My son. I stare, taking in every millimetre of his face, the curve of his cupid's bow lips, the colour of his skin, what I can see under the coating he has been born with.

  His heartbeat is fast, as it was in the womb. His little fist clenches as though he holds onto a memory in his hand. His face is nuzzling Lucinda's breasts, and with a sudden clarity I realise they will not be mine for some time to come.

  But for this miraculous creature I will endue the loss.

  "What do you think, Daddy?" Lucinda murmurs.

  "I think he's beautiful," I say, my voice a mockery of my own. I am... in a daze right now.

  My eyes flick up to my kindred's, to the mother of my son, and I see the laughter there. The amusement at my stunned face.

  Ah, but my son does not eclipse his mother. Nothing could dim her Light.

  "You're even more beautiful," I whisper and lean in, laying a soft, reverent kiss on her parched lips.

  Immediately I offer her a drink from a straw in a glass of water. I must ensure she is taken care of. After all she is not only my world, but my babies' world now too.

  "Are you ready for the next?" the doctor says, still at the other end of the bed.

  "Bring it," Lucinda declares and the doctor rubs on her lower belly, somehow encouraging my daughter to join us, as I pick up our son and cradle him in one arm, holding my wife with the other.

  This time Lucinda knows what to expect and manages the delivery with aplomb. The pain no less excruciating, but the goal now one she can envisage. Within minutes my daughter has arrived.

  I think my legs are going numb, because I need to sit down in a chair. My daughter is blindingly gorgeous, without a doubt she will take after her mother and not I. Brown hair, I think, although it is hard to tell with all that birthing muck. Amisi quickly towels her off and then wraps her up securely, placing her on Lucinda's chest, like she did our son.

  Lucinda murmurs words of greeting, letting the baby grip her finger tightly. It astounds me the child can make such a motion at such a tender age. She holds on for dear life, as though she knows this woman is her salvation.

  I am not sure what the doctor does then, or what happens in the
room, or where Amisi goes. It is as though the world spins hurriedly around me and I am a statue in the centre of a brightly coloured storm. An ache has started in my chest and I rub it absently. Staring into the eyes of my son, whilst flicking adoring gazes at my daughter as she snuggles in the embrace of my wife.

  I have a family. Oh, my vampyres have long been a family of sorts, but this is decidedly different. I have a family.

  A wife. A son. A daughter. Me. A vampyre, given this most glorious gift.

  I close my eyes and say a prayer to Nut. Thanking our goddess. Words are not enough, so I send her what I can of my Light, willing her to understand my gratitude.

  When my eyes open Lucinda is watching me and we are alone in the room with our babies. But not for long. Nut appears. Not that I can see her, I can just tell. Laying a blessing on each child's head, a blazing of bright white Light that hovers over their bodies for a fraction of a second, and then leaving us with only a sense of calm.

  I will myself to get up off the chair I had obviously collapsed into and sit on the side of Lucinda's bed. We stare at each other for several long moments, neither able to express the love and awe we feel inside our chests. But I know she feels it too. I see it in her eyes. In the wonder-struck look on her face.

  "Are you all right?" I ask eventually.

  "Never better," she says with a genuine smile.

  I shake my head, in awe of my wife all over again.

  "You were magnificent," I say, and dear God, my voice cracks.

  "So were you," she replies with such pride.

  "What on earth did I do?"

  "Aside from growling throughout the entire thing?" she teases and my vampyre reminds her he is present with a flash of magenta from my eyes. "You both did well." She amends her statement to appease the dragon-within. "You stuck it out. You do know that Marcus has lost a whole heap of money."

  I frown. What the hell?

  Lucinda chuckles, readjusts her hold on our daughter and explains.

  "He bet you'd have to leave the delivery room, because your vampyre would either attack the doctor or go crazy with all the blood."

  She is smiling a mile wide at the vision, little does she know how close we actually were.