Chapter Text
Ransom was having a very bad week, of that there was no doubt. He was a man who couldn’t resist a challenge that was for certain, but he knew when he was outclassed, and outclassed he was by the man sitting across from him. He wanted Baldwin Montclair as he was called now, out of his house and town.
“So who’s the brain” he demanded bluntly “you are clever, and slippery I’ll give you that, but this isn’t your work”
“I’m the one short selling” he defended
“But someone else gave you the idea” he said mockingly “this is worthy of Jacob Little”
The lack of recognition of the obscure figure made it clear he wasn’t the originator of this little plan. It was cute, in the scheme of his family fortunes all told but the petty act of revenge, cornering him so completely showed an unpredictable and perceptive mind he wanted control of. He had not taken the loss well. Someone had outmaneuvered him, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Baldwins eyes narrowed on the young vampire. He was protecting someone, from the smell of it.
“She wasn’t involved” he said firmly “just an offhand comment”
“She?!” Baldwin had taken losses before, but this was an insult of a nature entirely new.
“I want to meet her, now” he demanded immediately furious. The rage radiating off him, for once cowed Ransom.
The drive was short, and to his surprise he recognized the home. Griffin house was… well infamous to say the least. It had been used during the civil war as barracks, and a prison. It had been the place of truly gruesome medical experiments, and union soldiers had been shocked by the conditions of the prisoners found in the attic. Two union soldiers fearing trial committed suicide in the same attic, and the value of the home had never recovered among the deeply superstitious population of New Orleans.
Baldwin looked at Ransom who looked rather… guilty.
Whoever lived here had balls of steel, he had to give the woman that. At the ungodly hour of 3 am it didnt engender a more positive attitude toward the ominous house.
Ransom took out his phone and selected a contact, a favorite he noted.
He could hear the ringing of a landline inside the house, curiously old fashioned, all told.
The voice that came from the phone was sweet and melodious if a bit husky with sleep.
“Ransom?” She asked a hint of alarm in her voice “what’s the matter?”
“I’m outside with someone who wants to meet you” he said grimly
“At this hour?” She balked “it’s 3 am! Not even the FBI would ambush this early” she said with a tone that cast aspersions on the federal agency, and anyone who took after them
“It can’t wait”
Her voice turned hard and stern, immediately without hesitation taking him to task in a way that made Baldwin very curious “you both must have a good reason for such a grievous breach of common decency, one I am very interested in hearing. I do not make a habit of entertaining men at this hour”
Baldwin grasped the phone.
“I want to know who the hell is behind the shorting that cornered me!” He said obviously done with the delays
“And just who am I speaking to?” She asked with a blatantly false bland interest
“Baldwin Montclair”
“Well Mr. Montclair, I am not invested in the stock market nor do I have any interest in shorting stock” she said primly “do you make a habit of harassing women at unseemly hours?”
“You certainly gave your friend ideas” he retorted to her questionable insinuation. Unfortunately the reality was yes- to his sisters annoyance.
There as a long stretch of silence.
“Ransom….” She asked softly her voice still heavy with sleep. It was lighter in tone than most vampires, curiously so, given its sweet bell like clarity despite its depth that spoke to immortality.
“Indeed”
She let out a rattled exhale. “I….” She halted seemingly gathering her wits “I see” she finally settled on. “I need a moment to dress” she said before hanging up.
several lights came on in the house.
It didn’t take long for the door to open. Baldwin hadn’t been surprised by much for a very long time, his now blood sister’s pregnancy and birth being a rare recent occurrence. This topped even that.
Before him was a vampire who by appearance was a baby, as bright, strong pure and alive as if she had been turned yesterday. She was brimming with life and vitality only seen in very young vampires. But her controlled dignified bearing told a contradictory story. She managed to look down her nose at both of them as the silence stretched intentionally.
She was tall for a woman, 5’8 he estimated but looked taller for the dark green linen wrap dress that she had pulled on over her nightgown. By trimming it was really more of a modernized Victorian wrapper with its frog closure long sleeves, high mandarin collar and ankle length. Even stranger was her wild red hair absent of usual vampire perfection, full of curls barely controlled in a long French braid that reached her waist. She was pale like a vampire, but there was a slight flush to her cheeks a tinge of pink that showed something was most definitely abnormal.
She finally opened the screen door. “Please come in, I have a kettle on for coffee”
She didn’t seem to notice his alarm at her appearance, absently leading them back into the kitchen. He noted how slim she was, unusually so, nearly alarming for her height. But his initial assessment had been correct, she moved with grace and conviction as if she always knew where she was going. The length of her stride was decisive, the set of her shoulders resolute.
“Let’s get one thing straight” she said before anything else could be said turning to him her large sharp celadon eyes trained on him “I have never, and would never short stock. My interest in such matters is perfunctory at best” her eyes turned accusingly on Ransom her tone cool “I apparently need to take more care”
“You—“ Baldwin wanted to curse and hit something. He had been beyond Furious at the development and when he finally found his culprit she was little more than an idle speculator who he couldn’t even properly vent his frustration at, or hold accountable. More pressing was what the hell she was.
Ransom looked contrite. “You were simply inspired” he said trying to smooth over the offense with bred to the bone southern charm.
“You know how I feel about such behavior” she said her voice cold and cutting. “It’s the destruction of markets, and contributes nothing of value. I am not a fan of it but predicting the future is one thing, deliberately causing the crash is another!
There was a fury in her gaze directed at Ransom, and he didn’t even attempt a defense, and her anger showed in the flush of her cheeks.
“The precise reason the Dutch started “joint ventures” was to distribute risk, which facilitated explosive economic growth. Banks, shares, corporations, all the benefit we reap from these institutions is build on trust, and mitigating risk. Shorting and cornering destroys this trust and forgets the very foundations upon which a healthy prosperous economy is built! If you have no talent for anything but destruction you have no business in trade.” She concluded coldly
She finally clamped her mouth shut, resolved to quell her frustrations until later.
Her eyes slid back to Baldwin. “I take it you are the latest victim of Ransoms desire to challenge authority?”
“I was the object of his designs, yes” he said barely holding back his laughter at her description
She let out a truly weary sigh before attending to the now whistling kettle.
She did not say anything as she made a French press of chicory coffee, traditional to New Orleans and assembled a tray with a few vampire friendly snacks arranged on a set of blue Italian China with a pewter coffee pot. The tray itself was wood around the edge with a mat on the inside depicting a British ship, one he recognized as being a victim of Dutch merchants that were more mercenary than the British bargained for.
After pouring the coffee into the pot she set them up at the large pine kitchen table turning off the harsh electric lights in favor of lighting a few candles, easier on vampire eyes. Nothing was hurried about her movements. She was clearly collecting her thoughts, and would not be rushed.
She rounded the table, and with a look of censor to Ransom for failing his duty to provide a proper introduction took the initiative as the hostess, offering her hand
“Eleanora Andros” she said “I cannot honestly say it is a pleasure, but it has been enlightening to meet you Mr. Montclair”
An old fashioned name, he noted. Quite rare now
He took her unusually, even for a vampire, pale elongated hand a gentle but firm grip, turning it up slightly in that old fashioned way appropriate to gentleman shaking hands with a lady did as an amused look flitted across her face
“Likewise, Miss. Andros” he said mirroring her formality. The slight stress on the Miss was meant to remind her of her place, historically young unmarried women were nearly always outranked by all others. She may not be the primary person at fault, but he was not easily forgetting her role in his frustrations.
She did not miss the message, perceptive young woman. She was on guard.
She poured coffee as they sat, the picture of a gracious hostess her hands moving so elegantly he couldn’t help but watch with interest their familiar dance across the coffee pot.
“If this…. Situation has been the cause of a loss for you that endangers your livelihood I am capable of providing compensation for my part to prevent the loss of the home or the like”
His lips twitched at the offer. “I would like to know how you came to speculate on such matters”
“I am largely self educated” she said eventually “I read through Cambridge’s economic history some years ago and have continued to have a passive interest ever since.
“All the volumes?” He asked incredulous
“I have them in the library if you would like to see….” She said with a raised eyebrow to his blatant suspicions sipping her coffee. “But to be honest I have little true interest in it apart from its role in the study if history more generally. Are you familiar with Benjamin constant?”
“Swiss political commentator” he nodded
“His opinions on commerce being preferable to war proved formative in my opinions on the role of trade, as well as Dutch merchants role in enabling the American revolution. Nations than can be called representative democracies properly speaking are built on trade.”
He saw immediately where she was going with the example
“The most reliable predictor of ability to support a liberal democratic society is economic growth, Taiwan being the foremost recent example” he contributed
She seemed to abruptly look at him anew as if worthy of consideration. He was almost insulted if she hadn’t been the caliber of person to without missing a beat provide coffee service at 3:00 am and discuss economics
“As Seymour Lipset observed, the wealthier a society is the better chance it had to sustain democracy” she said in agreement, using demurring to his comment as a cover for her pause
“Your interest is political science then?” He asked now truly curious about the young woman
“More so than economics I suppose” she said with a shrug “but I’m more an intellectual magpie than anything” she gave a grin that seemed a little rebellious and conspiratorial, an edge of danger and dark amusement that contrasted her otherwise proper demeanor “I’m sure my Swiss ancestors, financiers to the bone, would be horrified.” She paused reflectively “though my gender would perhaps make a singular interest in finance even more scandalizing”
“The Swiss have always been very traditional” he said wryly
“Change is very overrated” she said with an unconcerned wave of her hand “universal suffrage is overstated in its importance”
Ransom finally saw fit to interject “you the committed daughter of the enlightenment?” He said with shock “after all the monologues I’ve heard on liberalism?!”
She clicked her tongue in all the exasperation of a disappointed professor “you need to be more precise with your terminology. Liberalism, a commitment to ideals and civil liberties that serve as the backbone of a functioning representative democracy, can never be asserted without understanding context. Philosophy must precede democracy. There’s a reason direct democracy in almost all cases fails so spectacularly, we must fight for the reforms to the human mind first before enacting the political change, all genuine reform must cut across the human heart and mind or we are no better than ideologues and tyrants no less asserting our political philosophy onto others against their will. More realistically it will merely make us ineffectual impractical idealists. I’m a pragmatist after all”
Baldwin contributed “take the example of the Middle East, if you implemented democracy indiscriminately you would end up with Hamas in power tomorrow, their ruling elite are without exception far more liberal than their population”
“Inevitable for a society that hasn’t industrialized” she commented “oil money has caused more problems than it’s solved”
“Sachs and Warner” he said with an approving look “endowments correlating negatively to economic failure. Very good”
She made a show of affected disinterest, as if deterred by the high handed nature of the praise but her slightly pleased flush told a different story. Yes he knew something was wrong with this vampire, no other could flush quite that way.
He grinned in a way that let her know she didn’t fool him, and she scowled slightly in turn. Her composure wasn’t bulletproof, and he had seen through it. In the careful dance they were engaging in that was her loss.
She wasn’t used to being patronized, curiously all told given her apparent youth and vampires cultural tendencies. He couldn’t tell what family she was from, and he didn’t smell other vampires in the house. She lived alone, and if others visited it wasn’t overly often. Her own smell told a stranger story, she hadn’t touched or even been very near another vampire In some time of the clarity of her scent was accurate. Weeks, if not months. The only smells that lingered were lavender soap, caswell Massey, he identified, coconut oil for her hair, purified so it only had a very mild smell and cedar with lavender likely from her wardrobe. Hints of witch hazel and orange blossom lingered vaguely. She was averse to artificial fragrance and old fashioned in habits as well as disposition.
“I’m familiar with most creatures in these parts” he said carefully “I’m surprised you are so little known” her lack of deference to Ransom suggested she was not his child, or grandchild and he did not exert any authority over her. In fact she felt free to openly chide him, and he accepted her stature on the matter. Her appearance he began to suspect was deceptive of her true age
“I live a private life” she said stiffening.
“You would have to” he pushed “to be nearly completely unknown despite being the odd vampire out among Marcus’s brood”
“I’ve never made his acquaintance” she dismissed with misleading disinterest
“Oh I know, you wouldn’t be hiding down here if that was the case”
She froze in surprise choking on her coffee
He continued as if nothing had happened “after all there’s a reason Ransom has hidden you so well” he said turning to the man beside him. “Though I am truly curious who you belong to”
“No one has hidden me anywhere” she said with icy offense “I have little interest in being gawked at, and as such chose to maintain a level of privacy”
She had rightly concluded Ransom was outranked by Baldwin and would be no help, and so was attempting to crudely extract his involvement so he wouldn’t be used as a pawn. It was a reasonable attempt, but her expression gave her away and the execution a bit harried.
“No vampire lives with this level of isolation” he said with a menacing smile exerting pressure “it’s against our nature”
“Humans are social animals as well, and yet hermits exist” she said acerbically
“You are not a human despite your flush”
“I wouldn’t figure you to be so literal with an analogy” she said with a soft mocking tone “biology isn’t destiny strictly speaking, We are still rational animals after all despite what some might like to suggest”
His fingers drummed on the table impatiently with her diversions using philosophy, and anthropology as a clever shield. She was smart but her expressions and intent too obvious, she had been isolated for some time and was overly free.
“I take it you aren’t recognized on any official lineage”
She gave him a wild smirk, now all menace and said with a challenging shrug “I also carry my mothers maiden name, it’s hardly a stain I find troublesome”
Contained in the comment was a bitterness that coated her tongue, and a vast pool of emotion she refused to broach but revealed in her defensive approach. Her direct gaze dared him to disparage her as a result with a confidence and self possession of a woman who knew where she stood, and what she believed.
“Truly an American” he said blithely “so individualistic”
“Hardly” she retorted “I am not indiscriminate in my individualism, despite my
Personal tendencies. We are wedded inevitably to the common fate of our fellow man regardless of self reliance. Nations, families, houses rise and fall together. Individual liberty is a useful political philosophy, not a personal creed. After all democracy is in many ways a product of commerce, reliant upon the interconnected nature of man”
“Your personal tendencies being isolated from any vampire clan if not outcast?”
Her eyes were cold and hard on him, with a promise of ruthlessness that gave him pause, and reflection on why Ransom was somewhat afraid of this woman.
“I chose my path” she annunciated clearly “ the wage and yoke of belonging if the master is wrong”
There was a prolonged silence as they stared off across the table.
“A woman of principles” he said finally
“I am illegitimate” she said with an indifferent shrug which papered over a tangled history “they are my clan and motto”
“A cold comfort among greater powers” he retorted
“Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how'.” She quoted victor frankl
‘Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” He quoted back. He had suspected right, her house he thought was rather suited to her, living with the memory of the cost of humanity’s darkest face.
She looked at him with some curiosity now as if analyzing a new problem. She was intrigued, and intellectually stimulated by their detent, not to mention shockingly Sharp for still being sleepy, vampires didn’t do well being abruptly woken from sleeping.
“You have a lovely home” he commented eventually.
“A bargain” she said with a slight smile at his probing
“I can imagine” he said with traces of sardonic humor “what do you do?” He asked finally stopping the hedging and demanding information bluntly. It was a breach of European etiquette, but not American and he took the gamble.
Her look of reproach told him what she thought of it.
“A little bit of everything” she said indifferently, it wasn’t important to her “I write political and economic commentary, I’m consulted often on financial matters” she glanced toward ransom “I write fiction”
“The ghost writer for the economist who no one has been able to find?.” He asked
She looked like a spooked deer at this comment looking wide eyed at him “Am I that obvious?”
“It’s uncanny, the combination of interests. One only a “intellectual magpie” could have, and you’ve been hunted for decades.”
“By you?” She said her voice suddenly rough with a touch of alarm
“Oh yes, you have no idea how long I’ve spent trying to find the author”
“… why?” She asked perplexed in way that suddenly made her seem so very young.
He gave her a deadpan look, then at her lack of comprehension a disbelieving one to Ransom who looked away abashed. She had no idea how she came across. “The same reason despite your illusions of independence a whole vampire clan has not breathed a word of your existence”
Her eyes flashed with distrust, guarded and barely concealing a cold fury. Ransom had betrayed her, and she did not take it well. “And what do you want, Mr. Montclair?”
He gave her a mysterious smile. “I’d like to get to know you, at the moment”
She swallowed hard. She was now nervous. Her nerves were packed away behind courage that leveled a even steady gaze on him, watching every movement.
“I won’t be sleeping with you, or anyone for that matter” she stated bluntly laying her battle lines down firmly in the face of someone she found disconcerting. He was a dominating figure, large and imposing both physically and intellectually.
He almost snorted in laughter, she had shown her own ignorance in the comment. She had no idea how to smell vampire arousal. He was certainly interested in her, that was true, but not for that reason. He drew sharp lines in his interest, and he did not take women like her to bed. His father liked his mate dangerous as his children, but Baldwin preferred his women less menacing. His interest in destroying his enemies remained strictly separate from his bedroom. He could not tolerate chaos and challenge on two fronts at once, he knew better than to divide himself that way.
Women like Diana, Ysabeau and Verin were as exhausting as they were formidable and he desired peace in nothing but his romantic entanglements. But the girl before him had potential, and he knew a good bet when he saw one.
“If I was interested in you that way you would know” he said with uncharacteristic sincerity.
She barely concealed her blatant relief, and slight confusion at the mixed statement.
“But to start, how you retained some of the traits of a warmblood.”
The relief didn’t last, replaced with grim irritation.
“I have no idea” she said bluntly.
His eyes narrowed with suspicion, She said nothing but the lack of duplicity he observed in her face made him inclined to believe her.
“I am older than I look” she finally added.
“Older than him” he took a shot in the dark.
“No” she said, “but the difference isn’t much” she didn’t take offense at the blatant probing, very abnormal for a vampire. Much by vampire standards was around half a century one way or another.
He raised his eyebrows looking at Ransom, who confirmed with a slight nod.
So her familiarity with Ransom was born of his respect, and deference to her wisdom not seniority. His estimation of her raised. A woman who could command his respect with such ease was someone truly formidable, and intriguing.
“Elle—“ Ransom started.
She held up her hand halting him “I have warned you before, it would lead to trouble. Now it was come home to roost. Save your apologies, take the loss and lesson, due well to member it this time.” She said it with all the authority of an elder sister disappointed in his failure who had no intention to hear excuses. “We will discuss this later” she finished cutting him off from further objection with one glance at Baldwin subtly telling him to shut it in present company.
She was mad, but she suddenly looked much older than her age would suggest, even for a vampire that had nothing to do with physical appearance, armed with the cold knowledge that Ransom would not be able to handle the fallout of his mistake and she would be left with the burden of taking responsibility for his error. Baldwin could feel some sympathy for her, he had many times been in a similar position since his father died, but that wouldn’t deter him. Ransoms relevance was thoroughly dismissed as immaterial. It was intended to be a stinging reprisal, and it was for a man who prided himself on what he built with his own hands to be regarded dismissively as unreliable and insignificant.
The words found their target and he for a second looked truly wounded. He nodded his acceptance of her conclusion, unable to refute it.
“How much? “ She asked softly
“60 million, about” Baldwin said
A flash of naked fury was visible for only a moment before she schooled her expression, her palms lay open on the table as if she was trying to control her impulse to destroy something. But one look surprised him, deep regret and self reprisal as it passed over him/
“I will pay it back” she said hoarsely.
Both men stared at her in shock.
“I will—“ Ransom began
“The damage is done” she replied without hesitation rejecting any assistance. “I take responsibility for my error”
Her error had been trusting Ransom with the weight of her intellect, and he had abused it knowingly. His inability to resist the challenge had led them both here; and she would not rely on him.
“It is repayment for an old debt” she said looking at him with steady intent. “We are even, no?”
“You repaid that long ago” he said uncharacteristic subdued. “Many times over, and I hardly was much help”
“We are even” she said firmly forcing him to accept the transactional response.
“Yes” he finally said.
To a romans sensibility, and hers he expected the exchange carried weight. Firmly establishing she would compensate for his error, severing any bonds they once had. He showed deference to her, but not she him.
She stood up and walked to the hall retrieving something before returning.
She wrote and cut the check with a montblanc fountain pen with more to spare to cover any loss.
“I do not want your money” Baldwin said sliding the check back to her
She tilted her head at him in blatant confusion. “Then what do you want?”
“You”
“Pardon?”
He stood without further explanation and bit his thumb.
Ransom looked resigned and unsurprised, she confused.
He rounded the table and stood beside her. She instinctively rose to her feet, her chair screeching along the floorboards.
He drew a curved line of blood along her forehead and she stared up at him eyes blinking like a baby owl wide eyed, clearly not understanding what was happening
“With this alone, you are a shade among the living, without family or Kin”
He drew another line “With this mark you are reborn, my blood-sworn daughter and forever a member of my family.”
Fear flooded her,and she jerked back violently.
“No!” She said harshly
“It is done”
“I refuse”
“You don’t have a choice”
Her eyes were wild as if skimming over something in her mind. Vampire law he presumed; dread and realization settled in. He had no need for consent. Her eyes widened as if only now realizing the blind spot she had, that her “stain” would preclude her from ever being taken in by a clan and so she had never thought she would be adopted against her will.
“I will fight” she snarled
It was exactly the wrong thing to say to a man who enjoyed a challenge. She was smart, brilliant even he suspected, but so naive.
“I would expect no less” he said wryly assured of his victory.
She looked to Ransom realizing he had expected this.
“Get out” she said her voice cold.
He stood. “You at least will no longer have to hide” He said ruefully.
“You say that to me, of all women” she said her gaze scorching
“You can’t win this fight” he said his eyes apologetic. “He’s Marcus’s uncle”
Her eyes slid back to him, and her eyes traced his face in sudden understanding, as if something finally made sense.
“You are the head of the de clermonts” she said reeling in shock the pieces of the chess board in her mind rearranging, “Lucius D’Clairmont”
Her anger, he could smell it on her reaches a new fever pitch. Devastation was painted on her face, raw and apparent.
Her eyes were trained on him anew, as if fully recognizing how deep of trouble she was in.
“Now” she demanded. He didn’t have to be told twice, he got out.
She waited several beats.
“I will not be your weapon” she said “you’ll have to kill me first”
He tilted his head evaluating her. “You don’t know much about vampires”
“I’m not like vampires” she said “not in the ways that matter. I hate the taste of blood, hunting holds no pleasure” she said circling the table placing it between them
“I figured that out from your instinctive disgust at the smell” he said unimpressed
“Why?”
“If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else. Adoption outside of clan Sires requires the approval of said Sire. I can assure you, I am your best chance” ‘
“So I am supposed to be cowed by the first patriarch who desires to subjugate me?” She scoffed “don’t be absurd”
“you don’t have a choice”
“Why?” she pushed
“Because I know a good investment when I see one” he said eyes flashing with interest. “And I’d hate for anyone else to find you, can’t give such a sharp mind from falling into the wrong hands. I’m not that stupid”
The reasoning surprised her. Her eyes shifting back and forth as if reading something in her mind.
“You were sired as a weapon against the de clermonts, no? You didn’t like the idea of being someone’s weapon, and somehow got free, gods only know how you managed it”
She watched him through narrowed eyes.
“And how do you know I’m not still?”
“Because you are too innocent to be that kind of weapon”
She halted “excuse me?” She said with accusative offense
“Vampires, we can smell arousal you don’t know how.” He said “if you were to be a different kind of weapon, a man would have been chosen”
She gave him a wild menacing grin “you would be surprised what kind of weapon I can be”
“You’ll tell me, in time” he said with certainty
“My answer remains the same, I refuse” She said stubbornly
He shook his head as if exasperated. “If you wish to resist I’ll take my price to the tune of Ransoms life”
It all happened in a flash, she pulled the knife and he had her in the next.
It had narrowly missed him, leaving a graze along the side his neck. He was very glad for his experience with Verin. As he had moved just in time.
He had her by the neck, able to snap her neck in a second if she shifted
“What an auspicious start” he chided “you showed your hand when you sent him out”
She was completely still, though he could smell her rage.
“I do wonder what he did for you to earn such devoted protection” he mused “especially given this.”
“Get it over with” she snarled finally
“I’m not going to kill you”
“You can’t hold me forever” she said
“I have no intention to”
He all but dragged her over to her chair, her arm bent behind her back.
“What-“ she explained and with a flip she pinned over his knee, one leg trapping hers teetered at an angle that meant she had to plant her hands on the floor to prevent falling on her face.
His hand came down fast and hard on her backside stunning her silent.
“I will tolerate blades only once” he said sharply “before I drag Ransom into this. “That grace will not last long if you insist on trying to kill me.”
Her shock didn’t last long and she began to fight but he held her tight, unrelenting, burning, unrelenting heat building In her backside.
She was tough he’d give her that, and determined even if foolish. She didn’t cry out, or try to bargain, but he knew how to handle a vampire.
Her teeth sank into his ankle. Not for blood but to get ahold of anything.
The smell of his own blood flooded the room, but what followed was a complete surprise to even him, halting harsher retaliation. She let go immediately, panic flooded her system;
Her whole body began shaking with terror. What she had done had sent her straight into a panic attack. She had bitten a vampire before, and whatever had happened had terrorized her. He smelled tears. Blood and water, as she quaked. She had gone limp as a noodle.
He looked around the kitchen and found what he was looking for, a mint plant.
He picked her up, snatched several pieces and crushed the leaves under her nose.
The smell was repulsively overwhelming. And it immediately shook her out of her shock.
He grasped her chin “and definitely no biting” he said “I’ll take this as an isolated incident born from fear only once”
Her body was shaking violently but she nodded.
He pushed the mint into her mouth.
“Chew” he ordered
She complied, gagging on the overpowering flavor, but it did its Job, overpowering the blood.
“Do you know what biting signifies to vampires?” He asked harshly trying to understand the sequence of events
She shook her head.
“Dominance, most vampires would kill you on instinct for that”
Understanding dawned, and horror. “Do it then” she finally said
“I’m not being the instrument of your suicide”
He flipped her back over his knee, this time she didn’t fight, the vestiges of her panic attack taking all her focus and pushing her inward, she only endured.
Every strike was laid over the last, making her thighs and bottom burn like someone had lit a fire under her. She tried to squirm away from the swats without success.
“Keep moving and we will do this on your bare bottom” he threatened
She stopped immediately.
A short volley of hard sharp slaps came down on the crease between her bottom and thigh. She hung onto his leg desperately, but he did not halt until the damn burst and endurance tipped over into regret, the complex chemical reaction vampires reached when being shunned by the head of their clan.
“No knives, no biting” he said finally pausing “am I understood?”
“Yes” she chocked out.
“Yes what?”
She was silent for a a few beats too long.
“I don’t know!” She exclaimed as a hard slap came down. She had clearly no idea what was happening to her. She was confused, panicked and at odds with her own instincts.
“Sieur” he instructed with a sigh. She was completely ignorant of vampire dynamics.
“Yes Sir” she let out immediately. He would have to teach her want he meant by Sieur later, she was in no state of mind to take in subtly.
He picked her up setting her over the table, where she stayed, and he grasped the wooden spoon from the stoneware crock near the stove.
“You will not pick fights with vampires you cannot win against to commit suicide” he said harshly.
She sucked in a sharp rattled breath.
Then the spoon made contact.
“I wont!” She exclaimed desperate to avoid further punishment
“Good. You are almost done”
She let out a strangled sob as it came down until she was shaking and sobbing. Finally he laid down the spoon, and laid a silent hand on her head as she recovered her control, pressing her forehead into the back of her hands, trying not to make a noise.
He sat her up and pulled out a handkerchief from his navy suit jacket and wiped her face clear of the tears, then held it to her nose.
“Blow”
She stared at him as if he had spoken a foreign language.
He narrowed his eyes and she complied.
He pointed to the corner “you will kneel there until I say otherwise”
Her eyes widened, but he set her on her feet, her knees nearly gave out, and short on patience he simply picked her up under the arms hauling her to the corner. She all but collapsed.
“Nose touching”
She did as instructed, to his mild surprise.
“If you move before I come back, we will start from the beginning, bare bottomed.”
She inclined her head slightly, desperate to pull herself together away from him.
He paused “4 counts in, 4 hold, 4 out. It will help the panic”
He made his way up to her room. Her receiving rooms were formal, albeit very federalist in tastes, but her room was decorated with simple pine furniture, her single bed covered with a beautiful wedgewood matlisee bedspread. A Windsor chair in the corner with a cushion, a small desk piled with books and notes, a large pine chest at the end of the bed and bookshelves filled with books in every square inch, just like the living and dining room.
The only room with her scent everywhere was the one at the top of the stairs- defensive, interestingly, and not the master bedroom. She had only a single bed and simple style.
A braided jute mat covering on the floor, very appropriate for the climate. he looked for a bag of some kind. She had a large waxed canvas pack, already full in her closet. He unpacked it quickly looking through the emergency supplies. Impressive, he admitted, but went back to the closet and found another bag, a large but sinfully ugly duffel. He dumped the emergency supplies into the duffel.
He looked through her clothes. He found an odd collection of mens lightweight wool trousers, khakis, and shirts. Seersucker, linen, cotton and merino. A few blazers hung beside them. A navy wool, a tan linen, a casual chino safari style in olive. From the variety of sizes he suspected they were second hand. It was a modest wardrobe, and he packed most of it, except only two pairs of trousers. He would not have his daughter dressing like a man, and would be ordering her skirts. He nearly chuckled at the nightgowns, the idiosyncratic femininity of the lanz of Salzburg Tyrolean print a likely vestige of her Swiss heritage. He raised his eyebrows when he opened the dresser. She wore a corset still, and tap pants both made of white cotton, alongside undershirts. One polo bear sweater.
He cleared out the drawers. She was a person of organized regular habits, and would likely dislike the change in routine and some familiarity would help.
He looked in the pine chest and saw a blanket that reeked of her scent, such that not even washing would remove it.
It was in a Macgregor tartan, a baby blanket. Hidden out of sight, it had to be sentimental if the smell was anything to go off of. He packed it in a pillowcase, finding an older nearly tattered version beneath it. She had several iterations of the same blanket. He left them be, the house would be here should she want to return in the future. The note most recently taken on the desk he packed into a leather portfolio she had in the drawer along with her bible, a Catholic one, a beviary and the book she was reading.
The pack was full to bursting with the blanket under the flap strapped closed. He took clothes out for her to change into, the loosest and most comfortable. A morning corset that tied easily rather than laced, undergarments, an oversized cotton peasant blouse and a grey llbean soft wool sweater jacket embroidered with an edelweiss and found her shoes next to the door. She was wearing a pair of driving moccasins worn like slippers and she had a pair of leather walking boots, a black pair of dress boots, and navy Ked plimsoles. He Took them all.
He dropped the bag near the door and made a call to arrange for the plane, then Ransom as he made his way back upstairs, closing the door to the bathroom and turning on the water to drown out the conversation
“I will be taking her to sept tour, and Marcus or Matthew will give her a thorough check up. What I tell Matthew depends heavily on what you tell me about her”
“I don’t know much” he said factually and rushed- sensing his precarious situation “I found her nearly torn to ribbons and half dead, she wasn’t from here, no accent. Her spine was broken in several places, her legs and arms destroyed along with her shoulders. One of her legs was broken as well. She had no idea what she was, and didn’t speak for months.”
“You raised her?” He said in such a blatantly suspicious tone that ransom under different circumstances would have protested.
“I couldn’t even get near her. I had one of my daughters force her to drink blood, human, every so often until she healed. It revolted her, still does. Eventually she recovered, and to pay me back she kept my books for a while. She’s brilliant” he said without hesitation. “She started writing and made good money, bought the house, And that was that. She’s taken in several of my children when they were sick with ennui, got them back”
“Any idea as to who her sire is?” He said getting straight to the point
“I have a few guesses, a few of Gerberts sons were around here at the same time. One disappeared completely. I assume she was collateral in the war here at the time. It would be like his children” he said with disgust
“Are you suggesting a newly turned vampire killed their own sire?” He asked blatantly not believing him
“I did say she was brilliant, if anyone could manage it, she could. I wouldn’t want to be her enemy” he said as a warning, “if she decides to destroy you I wouldn’t put it past her. She would rather die than be a creature like Juliet”
Baldwin paused.
“She has a strong moral compass, just don’t back her into a corner she thinks her only option is to eliminate you”
“She’s your Matthew” he said in immediate comprehension.
“She took it upon herself” he immediately defended.
“I’m surprised you didn’t sick her on Matthew” he said
“We talked a lot about him”
“And?”
“She thought his actions were justified. She… knows some people who are aware of the history here and connected the rest. And I don’t “sick” her on anyone. She’s over years removed who she deemed threats unworthy of life.”
There was certainly a story to her comments about his dislike of authority, and his own tone indicated it had been quite blistering.
“She’s brutally honest” he eventually said “and won’t mince words, but very kind”
“Which is why she sent you away right before trying to kill me” he said dryly rummaging through the bathroom cabinets.
Bar soap, safety razor, witch hazel, orange blossom water, boar bristle brush, tortoise Speert Swiss comb, hair pins, scrunchies made by hand he noted, pine tar soap was not coming it smelled like a campfire, zinc oxide sunscreen a baby formula without chemical filters that didn’t sting the skin.
He chocked in shock. “She what?”
“You clearly don’t know her very well” Baldwin observed “if you couldn’t even note that”
He sighed on the other end of the line. “She doesn’t know much about being a vampire, and doesn’t want to.”
“What?” Baldwin demanded sensing his hesitation.
“She’s…. Good” he said as if for a loss of a better description. “She reminds me of Marcus, albeit a pragmatist”
Baldwin stopped. “You are in love with her” he stated as a fact.
“She’s a good woman” He said
“Now?”
“Everyone who knows her is in love with her in some way or another. We are not a suitable pair, even if I once hoped we would be.”
“And her?”
“She hasn’t ever experienced those feelings toward anyone. Or at all, I’m not sure”
“How…” Baldwin asked baffled
“ I haven’t a clue” he said “she rivals the Virgin Mary” Baldwin was satisfied, he knew better than to try to pursue her.
“You should have brought her to Marcus” he said bluntly
“It was not long after…. The congregation got involved. The years passed and she refused external interference in her life. I discussed it with her. She reacted badly. I’m not her Sire or mate, and you bloodswore her before letting anyone else get involved for the exact same reason. You didn’t want her taken into Matthew’s Scion rather than under your direct control. And should you forget, we are around the same age and she’s a whole hell of a lot smarter than me” he admitted with honesty “I value my own skin and have no intention of poking that bear”
“You already did poke that bear”
“Yeah and it reminded me exactly why we weren’t a match” he said bitterly.
“Anything else?” He asked
“She’s devout, Catholic. She eats like a warmblood, and can sleep like one as well. She feels cold and heat fully though she won’t get hypothermia or overheat. Don’t ask me, I don’t understand. She reacts badly to blood, and rarely feeds and always needs a lot of time to recover. When she’s embarrassed she flushed like a warmblood, and smells like one as well. Alive.”
Baldwin wanted to curse.
“That’s it” he said
“Matthew might just leave you alive” he commented
“And you?” He asked after a pause
“If you ever use her again, I will rip your throat out myself” he said “are we clear?”
“Crystal”
“Good “ he said satisfied with the fear in his voice, hanging up.
He stuffed her navy cotton piped robe in her bag, and turned off the faucet heading back downstairs dropping her bag by the door.
When he returned it the kitchen she was in the exact same spot, nose in the corner but dead asleep, from her smell in shock. Waking from a vampire from sleep left them groggy and disoriented but he crouched down and gently shook her awake.
She blinked blearily looking at him.
“There’s a car outside, unless you want to go in your pajamas you’ll need to change.”
She was surprisingly docile as he helped her to her feet, and handed her a bundle of clothes.
“Where are we going?” she asked quietly
“France, the family home, sept tour.”
“Why?”
“It’s where all D’clairmont children go” he said
“I’m over a century old” she said weakly
“Do you need help?” He pointed toward the clothes
She clutched them to her chest looking scandalized.
“No!” She insisted immediately her tone offended
“Good, hurry” he said and she moved quickly.
She was true to his order, and was back in only a moment still looking groggy, and embarrassed but had washed her face and had rebraided her hair into a coronet around her head, a distinctive Swiss style that survived travel well. He was right, in those clothes she looked mannish, despite her gaunt frame. She wasn’t feeding enough and hid it in oversized clothes. The White blouse offset her skins abnormally pale tone, but highlighted the pink in her cheeks.
“My sunscreen….” She said quietly
“In the outside pocket of your pack”
She looked surprised, but didn’t comment retrieving it and in the hall mirror rubbed on a layer of the white sunscreen.
He noted it blunted the blush, evening out her skin tone with its white cast… that was otherwise about the color of her skin. She looked less like a baby, and not so strange, but it highlighted the uncommonly clear bright eyes that dominated her face
“I don’t want to go” she let out what was a dejected protest, as if she knew she wouldn’t be given a choice
“I can carry you, if you’d prefer” he said with a raised eyebrow.
Frustration bubbled up in the vortex of complex emotions she had gone through this morning so abruptly. All at once her life had been ripped apart, and she had no say in it. This man had marched right in and with all the conviction of a pater familias had in his own authority taken command of her. She knew it was irrational, but she wanted to kick and scream and felt anger toward everyone and everything. Worse yet she hated her own irrationality, it shamed her in a spiral of self loathing on the knife edge of emotion she was teetering on.
He sniffed the air, then went to the kitchen going through the cabinets until he| found what he was looking for. Cookies. Gingersnaps would work fine. She stood in the door watching him then he handed her the tin.
“Sugar, we will get something more substantial on the way”
“You can smell hunger?” She asked with wide eyes as if surprised by the development
“You will be able to as well. Eat”
His statement confused her, but she didn’t say anything munching on a few cookies while he made a call. “Yes 45 minutes.”
He was now rummaging through her coat closet.
He looked back at her holding her only coat , a long navy Macintosh car coat suited to the unpredictable monsoons in New Orleans
“You are going to freeze in france, do you have no warmer clothes?”
She held out her arms indicating her grey sweater jacket.
He sighed in frustration. Vampires took seasonally appropriate clothing very seriously, aware they could very easily stand out in ways they should not otherwise.
“I will have to get you some coats”
“I can get my own coats” she protested finally
“And risk you ending up with whatever the local flea market has in men’s coats? I think not” He said with a sardonic tone
“My clothes are fine!”
“You have good taste, if overly American” he admitted “but your thrift and pragmatism spoils it”
“I am American” she said
“You are now French” he said immediately
She gawped at him. “I am not French! My great grandmother would roll over in her grave, she was Swiss!”
“Ah the Swiss are touchy about that” he noted “but do not contradict me, and you are now my daughter, making you French. And you are hardly very American with your Limoges porcelain, beautiful choice by the way”
She was once again reduced to mute shock at the variety of statements, orders and compliment
“You’ll adjust” he predicted “ysabeau and Marthe will love you”
“Ysabeau?”
“My fathers mate”
“Your… stepmother then” she said
“If you will” he said dismissively “you speak French correct?”
“It’s a bit rough” she admitted a bit ashamed “the accent…. Not as pure anymore, New Orleans you see”
He nodded in understanding
“Feel better?” He asked looking toward the cookie tin which had been demolished
She looked down and then at him. He looked smug. She could only sigh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right.
“Don’t be Pettish” he chided “put the cookies away, it’s time”
She regretfully pushed them back into the cupboard, subdued by shock and increasing dissociation.
She looked at the abandoned coffee service
“I should..”
“I will have It taken care of” he said “the house will be cared for”
“My Bible” she said a little panicked
“In the bag with your book and notes. Sept-tour has an extensive library as well. Any modern scholarship you need you can get online”
“Screens?” She said with a nose wrinkle
“E readers” he said. “Now stop stalling, you’ll need to wear your galoshes, they won’t fit in the pack” he held up her jacket.
The shock had left her cold, and she went to him shrugging it on. The familiar jacket felt like a blanket of safety that hid her from view, Friendly and well known.
She slipped off her driving Mocs, putting them in the outside pocket of the pack and shoved on her rain boots. They were extremely large and clunky, colored brown with yellow trim and cap toe, the type fishermen wore. He had tied her bean boots to one of the packs many pig snouts.
“They are hideous” he pronounced rendering definitive judgement
“They are old, and it used to be hard to find good French laid rubber boots here. They were cheap”
“Boots will be added to the list.” He pulled her rain cloche on her head.
She looked around one last time as he held open the door picking up her bag. It was fittingly, given her mood, pouring. The sun had yet to make an appearance.
She was leaving her home, for how long she had no idea. It had sheltered her since she had had recovered from her injuries, providing safety and comfort. She felt frozen in place, stuck unable to move as she felt the closing of an old life.
He sensed her shifting mood, and placed a firm hand on her upper back, steering her out the door, locking it behind them, opening the umbrella she kept in the hall and all but impelled her forward with a firm grip. She was now fully dissociated. Her mind unable to process the events of the morning yet, and giving up trying. It wouldn’t last, but in the face of an older more powerful vampire she unusually caved to the instincts she so rarely felt the pull of in the absence of an anchor. Little did she know the truth of a blood vow she now reeked of, altered her very biology, much like mating. The blood she was now sealed with was deafening, and with it came a fundamental shift in gravity.
She climbed in the large SUV and he handed off the bag to another vampire she neither recognized nor was overly motivated to interact with.
The gentle movement of the car quickly dragged her back to sleep.
He removed a bag from the cooler by his feet and carefully pushed up her sleeve. What he found there was vampire claw nail marks, someone had tried to rip her arms apart. From the damage they had nearly succeeded in killing her.
Her sire.
He was familiar with wounds, and combat, and looking at her arm indicated she had strangled someone, likely also biting them while they tried to rip her off. Understanding dawned, her broken back and ripped up legs.
She had hung onto their back, likely being slammed repeatedly as she drained them of blood. It was a crude maneuver, but if she was newly turned…. Likely the only one that would succeed, relying on outlasting her opponent and tolerating the abuse. It was as likely to kill her as it was him.
He skillfully gave her a transfusion of blood laced with sedatives without disturbing her. Pierre glanced back, noting the basic vitals he took.
Tempature. Respiratory, pulse. His diplomatic passport, and her red hair with pale skin would make it easier to claim her as a cousin and prevent too many questions. How many redheads of their unusual height were in New Orleans after all? not many. Her tempature had dropped, it was slightly warmer before, too warm for a typical vampire but that was shock. The sedative would keep her relaxed and most likely asleep unless he intentionally woke her.
“Who would you like informed Sieur?”
“Ysabeau, my siblings, Marcus and Matthew, Gallowglass”
“Frejya loves children” Pierre commented
“She’s well over a century”
Pierre had experienced many shocks and usually weathered them without note, but he looked truly astounded.
“Sieur- I mean- “
“Marcus and Matthew will need to be consulted, possibly Miriam. I believe something went wrong with her siring”
“Understood”
When they arrived at the airport Pierre took their luggage and he in his impatience chose to forgo the wheelchair simply scooping her up; ridiculously large rain boots and all. Baldwin was at the end of the day rather efficiency oriented, having all the blind pragmatism of a soldier.
The customs official took one look at their passports, and her unnatural pallor and asked no further questions. He would get her a passport once he had decided on her names.
It mattered not to him that she had lived already as a vampire for a good while, she was now his daughter and he would name her in his typical domineering manner.
His suspicions previously were confirmed, she was abnormally light, and the elfish quality to her features were likely a result of insufficient nutrition. He deposited her on one of the sofas pulling off her boots, rain hat and coat that had endured the monsoon, draping her blanket over her.
He had been right about the object of comfort, as even in her sleep she relaxed and let out a slight sound of contentment rolling into the blanket.
The flight was a successive series of phone calls, instructions and descriptions. It was soon to be the weekend fortunately, and Matthew Marcus and Miriam would all be there by Saturday morning.
She woke only once during the flight where he had to vigorously shake her before essentially hauling her to the restroom where she finally got the message.
Too heavy on the sedatives, she was too light.
She was still completely out of it when they landed, and he transferred her to a helicopter, buckling her into the 4 point harness jump seat, placing ear plugs in her ears . The noise eventually roused her, noise and light of all things was the most annoying to vampires.
“You gave me sedatives” she said her s’s slurring slightly
“You were in shock” he said simply
She gave him a disgruntled look. “You should ask… permission”
“Do you need to ask a child’s permission to give them a vaccine?” He asked rhetorically still working on his computer unconcerned
“I’m over 100!”
“I don’t think that means what you think it means” he said glancing up at her “vampires take centuries to mature, and their Sire still doesn’t need permission”
Suddenly her expression blanked unnaturally, tensing as if expecting something that didn’t come.
“It also prevents panic attacks” he added barely audible.
Her eyes pinned shut her head dipping in shame.
She turned her head Away, but his gaze didn’t falter watching her, observing.
“Give it time” he said firmly
The sedative still strong in her system left her subdued, but she was still sharp.
“Until I accept the inevitability of my fate and bow before your authority enforced with discipline?” She said her voice raw and bitter, she leaned her head back against the wall. “You must think me spineless”
“Spineless? No. But it’s vampires nature, you will learn in time”
“My nature?” She scoffed with causal indifference mumbling “no one even knows what I am”
“If anyone can find out it’s Matthew’s reasearch team”
Her eyes opened wide and she looked at him “you intend to find out what’s wrong with me?” She asked eyebrow furrowed
“I intend to find why or what caused your differences”
She was too tired to think about his statement, but sleep was impossible in the noisy helicopter.
‘‘I hate sedatives” she pronounced abruptly, in that unregulated way that resulted from lower inhibitions
“Why?”
“They feel the same as dissociation” she slurred
“After you were turned” he observed
Her eyes fell; Ransom had told him.
“It’s common for prisoners of war” Baldwin commented “combine that with vampires tendency to ennui and it’s especially vicious.”
She looked at him carefully as if wondering.
“I was held once, a very long time ago” he said without elaboration.
“Did you kill them?”
He looked up from his computer surprised
“Yes”
She nodded as if in confirmation of a conclusion.
“What?” He asked annoyed
“You seemed the type” she shrugged
“That is?”
“ to cope with darker emotions with power and control”
Pierre choked slightly and Baldwin glared at him
She continued unconcerned, eyes closed that too an effect of the drug “it’s an unpopular response these days, enlightenment and all that, but it’s easy to forget the danger of power vacuums are as deadly, often more than tyrants. The formation of new monarchies and sovereign states- essential for trade required a strong monarch. It can be said the enlightenment could only happen because it stood on the shoulders of powerful kings. The Middle East is currently being torn apart by such a power vacuum” she rambled “problematic as a general coping mechanism though”
“Be silent” he commanded
“Ok” she responded blithely
“Is this revenge for the sedative?” He asked through narrowed eyes
She cracked one eye open and looked a bit quizzical. “I don’t do petty revenge”
“Oh?”
“People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance.” She quoted
“Machiavelli” he said
“Indeed”
She watched as the helicopter set down, and he packed away his computer.
He managed to undo the harness but standing proved more difficult, and he once again picked her up setting her on her feet.
She swayed for a minute before stabilizing. Getting down from the helicopter proved impossible with her clumsy feet and she nearly pitched forward onto her face.
“You used one that is also a muscle relaxant” she said bitterly as Pierre handed her down.
“You can sleep it off once you eat something”
Pierre had their luggage and they slowly crossed the field to what was a massive fortress, her clunky boots making her going slow and she felt off balance as if her inner ear was unstable.
The third time she almost fell over her feet, Baldwin was over being patient and slow.
He managed in a disconcertingly deft maneuver to tip her over his shoulder, hooking his arm over her back to keep her in place as the word was suddenly upside down, and she felt dizzy from the lack of gravity.
She yelped in surprise.
“This will take all day otherwise” he said in a tone that ordered her not to protest
Pierre sighed behind them, seemingly in unsurprised sympathy, as if Baldwin manhandling someone was a regular, if disappointing, occurrence. She was too weak to do anything about it, and he wasn’t going to let her go. She was resigned to an annoyed huff.
He skirted around the curtain wall to the front entrance, setting her down once they were in sight of three women who had come out.
“Christ Freyja came” he muttered as he let her find her feet, the sudden shift destabilizing her again
She fell in step, or more accurately trudged behind him unsure of these three vampires but oddly devoid of fear and disconnected with her surroundings. She had the inexplicable urge to scootch behind Baldwin to avoid the scrutiny of these formidable creatures, but crushed the urge immediately. She was wholly unprepared to face them down, but she had her pride no matter how inauspicious her beginnings barely able to keep upright. She straightened her spine determined to meet the challenge head on.
Her resolve to preserve her pride was summarily shredded.
“It’s a baby!” The tallest of the three women exclaimed in excitement looking at her
But that wasn’t want arrested her. For some reason she felt an affinity with this stranger, as if she knew her, and…. Pride. Her stature was impressive, but that didn’t explain it. She felt alarmed by the development. She was impressively tall, more so than even her with pale flaxen hair and decisive features.
She looked Between Baldwin and Frejya sensing somehow their affinity. Her brows furrowed in confusion. Baldwin lips quirked in amusement at her blatantly confused expression.
“Frejya, (he said in a warning tone) Ysabeau, Miriam, my daughter, Eleanora.”
She stared at him in shock at the words, and would have had a more dramatic reaction if not for the drugs.
“Oh she’s positively precious” Frejya said in amazement. “And a redhead too! She said glancing at her braided coronet. She sighed happily “girls are so much cuter than boys”
Eleanora looked like she had seen the 8th wonder of the world, so shocked was she at these successive pronouncements. She was many things but she had never been referred to as precious, or cooed over. Her jaw fairly dropped at a complete loss.
Fiery red hair and being overly tall for a woman as her father used to say marked her as defective. Her one redeeming feature, her pale skin, was spoiled by a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Eyes too pale, hair too dark, too red, too tall and broad marked her as anything but precious.
If she hadn’t been more dazed she would object to being called a baby, but in the hierarchy of shocks that was low on the list.
Frejya smiled at her sympathetically and it nearly immediately served like bucket of cold water.
She inclined her head in a slight bow, not wanting to offer her hand to imply she was of higher rank.
“Eleanora Andros, good to meet you... Frejya, Ysabeau, Miriam” her manners coming back as a reflex despite the circumstances.
“Oh no, another bower like Marcus, what did you do Baldwin teach her mens manners?” Frejya said “I’m your Aunt, and you may call me Aunt Fanny”
She blinked unsure how to respond to this statement. For the first time she looked like the lost child she was, standing slightly behind Baldwin in her comically large boots, and glanced at him as if at a loss how to proceed.
She caught herself quickly.
“I’m a hostage” she said eventually “but….thank you?”
Freyja gave her a broad warm smile as if pleased by the development “don’t worry you‘ll find your way just fine”
Baldwin pinched his nose. “You are not a hostage”
“Ransom is the hostage then” she said clarifying “I don’t think he’d like to know he’s the damsel in this situation”
“Ransom is temporary insurance” he corrected “until you understand your situation”
“I fail to see the difference” she said dryly
“Remind me to never give you a sedative again” he said in a long suffering tone. “Your unfiltered honesty is worse than any intentional revenge”
“Blame that on the drugs if you like” she said through a still polite smile voice dripping with insincerity
Ysabeau and Miriam looked like they were suppressing laughter.
Miriam smiled at her with conspiratorial amusement.
“Why don’t we discuss this inside?” Ysabeau said finally turning
She looked at the ominous stone stairs with Ill concealed trepidation, and near open despair.
she was nothing if not a realist. And making it up those stairs alone was not within her current capacity.
Baldwin once again declined to give her a choice, treating her as an inglorious sack of potatoes.
“Office” he announced to Ysabeau
“Would you stop manhandling me” she griped dizzy from the sudden change in gravity hanging on for dear life.
“You will be waiting a very long time for that” Frejya said cheerfully when he set her down in hall. Her center of gravity was so disturbed and general balance decimated she would have fallen right over if he hadn’t kept hold of her steering her toward what she presumed was the office following frejya.
“You can barely keep your feet straight on flat ground, not to mention stairs” he said dismissively
“And whose fault is that?” She said peevish and upset, and sounding like it. “I don’t like sedatives”
She was directed toward a large wingback chair in the corner by Baldwin, one she could slump over in without falling over. She was exhausted.
Miriam peered at her with concern. “How in the world did you happen”
She asked with a hint of wonder as if inspecting a new specimen
“Miriam” Baldwin warned “she was turned in the 1850s”
They all turned to him.
Frejya spoke first. “You have to be kidding”
“I did say something was different”
Miriam looked fascinated.
“So you adopted her?” Frejya clarified the question hanging.
“Yes.” He looked to her. “Would you like to explain, or would you like me to?”
She tilted her head to him.
“She was sired soon after New Orleans was purged, intended as another Juliette… in the broad sense”
Ysabeaus eyes immediately swung to her
“That didn’t happen” she said flatly devoid of intonation “obviously”
“Instead you remained in hiding” Baldwin said
“I was known by some” she corrected
“Who hid you?” Frejya asked in amazement
“I live a private life” she said stiffly
“Ransom” Baldwin added “her idle musings were behind the recent…. Developments. Ransom acted on them”
Ysabeau’s eyes widened “she is who cornered you?” She took a second look at her.
“Oh my, no wonder” she said in a tone laden with implications. She looked back to Baldwin “good thing you did” she added with grudging approval
They shared a knowing look that she wasn’t sure how to interpret.
“ I am paying you back” she said her voice acid
“I am not taking your money”
“I will find a way” she glared at him
“Your alias will be dead within the week, your assets and accounts transferred”
“What?” She said breathless
“Your identity will change, along with additional names and your assets will be moved through the knights of Lazarus to the de clermonts, until you are capable of independence in accordance with vampire law. As per tradition that will be at least 3 months. Your home will be kept for you”
She felt dead inside, an odd coldness sweeping over her.
“How..”
“You left your estate to ransom. He will transfer it, in accordance with the law to me, the head of your clan, and father”
Her voice was dead and lifeless
“I have no clan or father”
“That’s not true anymore” he corrected “my blood song that meant you recognized Frejya. It changed you on a fundamental level, not to mention by law. The same way I recognize a witch who was bloodsworn by my father”
She stared at him for what felt like the thousandth time uncomprehending. “Nothing on vampire law covers this”
He pinched the bridge of his nose “is the only thing you know about being a vampire from law?”
“Essentially, with the exception of ennui” she said “blood vows I understood to be some sort of… Euphemism for legal adoption, with the requisite year timeline being like when notice of a marriage had to be posted, a formality to give chance to ascertain if there’s some kind of conflict”
“Good gods” Miriam said
“What applies to me or not is a mystery” she said flatly “if it isn’t obvious by now clearly something went wrong”
“This didn’t” Baldwin said sharply. “Blood vows, like mating, fundamentally change a vampires instincts and smell. It will be clear to other vampires for a year and a day”
“It’s deafening” Frejya commented
She felt a little woozy, the temporary excitement that had sharpened her fading and she felt like was slowly being dragged back under a heavy blanket.
“That’s enough for today” Baldwin said rising. “You are going to bed, or you’ll have to be changed. Ysabeau, please have Marthe bring some sandwiches” he said abruptly standing before her.
“Her room is across from yours” she replied smoothly
Baldwin didn’t give her a chance to respond before he flipped her over his shoulder, removing both boots hauled her down the hall, up a flight of very steep stairs and into a bedroom with a huge canopy bed, her things had been removed from her pack and placed in a wardrobe which was open, a nightgown laid on the bed
She would under different conditions protest, but she had no energy reserved as he thrust the nightgown into her hands and pushed her toward the bathroom. She barely managed to get out of her clothes and pull it on.
She took in Nothing, not even mustering embarrassment over being seen in her pajamas only enduring his severe gaze as she had several sandwich halves forced upon her.
“You gave me too much” she said groggily
he said “you have time to sleep it off”
She didn’t make it out of the chair, falling sleep the moment he turned away with the empty plate