The Kingdom of the Nine; The Vampire Legacy IV (22 page)

“To put it simply,” Quinn said, speaking up,
which made me look over at him. “If you have any blood connection
to any children of the kingdom, you're destined to become a
vampire, but that doesn't mean that if you don't have one, you
can't become one. It can be passed from maker to fledgling.”

“Quinn and I are direct descendents of
Timmorack.” Julian said, softly and looked at me. “He fathered a
child after his change, one that became a prince of the kingdom,
and that child fathered another, and so on until we were born.”

“I thought you and Quinn had different
fathers and that Klamara was Auron's father.”

“We didn't tell you about the twins?” Quinn
asked.

“You're kidding, right?” I said, shaking my
head.

“Klamara was one of the kingdom’s nine
princes and the woman you saw was pregnant with twins. Victor and
Auron. We didn't find out, until recently, that Quinn's father was
Victor, but it didn't matter, because Klamara wasn't a vampire when
she was pregnant. Auron and Victor never became the next
generation, they were just children.” Julian replied, coldly.

“But, because their father was Klamara, and
he had been a prince, when they were turned and you were both
conceived, the next nine started with you.” I whispered to myself.
Julian nodded then looked back at the fire. “It had never happened
before, had it?”

“What?” He whispered.

“Two princes born to the same woman?” I
asked. Quinn shook his head. “Have there ever been twin
princes?”

“Never, it was always nine separate children,
but there were several cases of children being born to the same
father, with different mothers. However, in the case of Louis and
Jacob, who were not part of the kingdom, yes there can be
twins.”Quinn answered.

I nodded and sat back in the chair, where I
thought in silence for a few minutes, thinking about nothing but
the crackling of the fire, then a question did enter my thoughts
and I turned to look at Julian again, who had pulled one leg up to
his chest and had his chin on his knee. He looked over at me, his
green eyes shadowed by the light.

“Have you ever turned anyone into a
vampire?”

“Once.” He replied, honestly. “No,
twice.”

“Care to elaborate?” I whispered and watched
him pick his head up, staring at the ceiling.

“It was about 20 years after I had been
turned Quinn had left me, because I couldn't drop the subject of
our father, Auron, and I think he got sick of hearing me insist
that the man was still alive. Of course, his blood and mine were
mixed, and I could feel him calling me. It made me wonder why Quinn
couldn't hear him.” I watched Julian close his eyes and relax.

“Her name was Cleo and she had the oddest
golden eyes I had ever seen.” He smiled as he thought about her. As
he said the name, I suddenly found myself staring into the darkness
of the room, looking at a woman with blond hair. It was just the
image of her, but with its appearance came her name.

“Danzeiger.” I whispered. Julian looked at me
and nodded. “So, what happened?”

“I was being hunted, nothing new in those
days, but this time, I couldn't outrun the men with the torches.
They captured me and tied me to a post, one that was made of oak,
which I had learned was a wood that vampires were almost powerless
against. The wood would splinter if it was jabbed into your heart
or any other part of your skin, making it impossible to bear.
Anyway, these men were just about to set the fire when Cleo came
out of the woods. She was, supposedly a witch and the men were
afraid of her. She wasn't one, though, but her family spoke a
language that none of them understood, so they figured it was some
sort of magic.

“She released me, after chasing the men away,
and she hid me in a cave near her home, fully aware of what I had
become. She treated me like a mortal, and even brought me dinner
once in a while, that consisted of some kind of animal she had
captured. After several years of being with her and becoming very
close friends, she became sick with a fever that just wouldn't let
up.

“On her death bed, as her heartbeat slowly
began to grow weaker, I asked her if she would like to see
eternity. I hadn’t figured out how to use my power yet, so my blood
was still clean of the toxin.” Julian looked down at his hand and
smiled. “She said she would love to, if it was possible, and so it
was that Cleo and I became part of each other. We left after she
turned fully and began adventuring out in the open. It was strange
to see her as a vampire, because of her natural golden eyes. They
made her look so beautiful, and at night she could see better than
me.” Julian looked at me and sighed. “Anything else?”

“You said you did it twice?” I questioned and
watched him nod. “Who was the other one?”

“Jessa's husband.” He whispered.

“The queen's father?” I questioned and
watched him nod. That seemed to explain why I had thought Julian
was her father, because Jessa's husband was Julian's fledgling.

“That was it, though; I had heard that people
woke up differently each time you make a vampire.” Julian looked at
his fingers. “The next one might not be the same after being
reborn. Right now, if I were to even attempt a transformation the
person wouldn't live through it.”

“Why?”

“Our blood is like lighter fluid, if I were
to give a person my blood at the time right before death when the
transformation should take place, his or her body would ignite and
burst into flames. It's too potent.” He answered.

“How did you find this out?” I whispered and
watched his eyes grow cold.

“Last century, I became angry, as if the
darkness in me finally decided to take over and this was how I
destroyed anything in my path. I would drain them, then force my
blood into them, sit back and watch them burn.” He answered.
“Nothing started it. I just woke up in a bad mod one day and this
is what happened. It went away the same way it started,
suddenly.”

“Okay, so I've taken care of my questions to
you.” I sighed then turned to Nick. “Now, I have a question for
you.”

Nick looked at me, gave me a questioning
smile, then looked at Julian, and sat up, composing himself, then
he turned to me.

“Ask away.”

“Why would you believe that if you can't
protect yourself, you deserve to die?” Nick closed his eyes, and
then slowly opened then again to look at me.

“When I was a boy, my father used to beat me,
he distilled in me an anger that I can't get rid of. When I see
someone weak, it makes me angry because I was once that way and for
it, I was beaten, sometimes so badly that I thought I was going to
die.

“He would tell me that I was weak, feeble,
that I should just die if I couldn't defend myself, so, I learned
to fight, to hold in any emotions except for the anger that fueled
my fire that made my strength just that much worse.” Nick looked at
me. “It came down one day to a decision, one that I haven't been
able to forget, which makes me angry.

“Creolas had always been stronger than me,
but he was still weaker than my father. The two of them had been
verbally fighting all morning because Creolas, having always been
more intelligent than he should have been at his age, wanted to
leave our home and study at the university, which would put him
over two weeks journey away.

“My father wouldn't have it. There was no way
that Creolas was leaving, not alive anyhow, and the verbal fight
became physical when my father decided that his son needed to be
put into his place.” Nick looked off into the fire and his face
grew completely solemn. “Creolas almost didn't survive. He was
beaten so badly that you couldn't see his eyes, and his mouth was
so swollen that he couldn't speak.”

“So, what did you do?” I whispered softly,
almost as if I felt being louder would break his mood.

“I confronted him, asked him what would
possess him to do that to his own son. He said that if he couldn't
protect himself, he deserved whatever he got.” Nick sighed and
focused on the rug in front of him. “Needless to say, my father
didn't wake up for breakfast the next morning.”

“What did you do?” A voice asked, making the
four of us turn to look at Creolas as he stepped in between the
chairs. He looked at his brother in shock, as if he had never heard
this story before. Nick sighed, a look of self-hatred crossed his
face and he turned to look away from the red glowing eyes of his
brother. “Nicholas, tell me, what did you do to our father?”

“What I had to do to live.” Nick replied and
stood up. I shrank back in the chair, caught between the two of
them, and I watched as their eyes locked. “He would have killed you
when you were strong enough. He was waiting, just sitting there
waiting for you to get up and try to walk out that door. He wanted
an excuse to kill you.”

“Nicholas.” Creolas whispered, calmly. “What
did you do to him?”

Nick was about to speak, as he stared at his
younger brother, but he closed his mouth, shut his eyes then made
his way over to the fire place where he put one hand one the
hearth, opened his eyes and stared into the fire.

“That night, after the rest of them went to
bed; I came in to your room, and sat near your bed. I watched you
sleep; the slow rise and fall of your chest and I vowed, right
then, that he would never hurt you again.” Nick looked over at
Creolas, suddenly, which made me look at him also, at the
expression of shock on the red haired man's face. “He came back and
I hid in the closet and watched him stand over you, with a knife in
his hand. He raised it above his head, aiming for your heart. He
never met his mark.”

“Stop dodging the question, Nick.” Creolas
said, softly, but Nick continued as if he had never heard his
brother speak.

“I hit him, hard, with my fist, but it didn't
seem to faze him, as he turned and made his way towards me. I had a
feeling in my heart that I was going to die that night, but not
before I killed him, not until I knew that you wouldn't be hurt
again.

“We moved out into the barn, and began to
fight, things began to turn very violent and I knew that I wasn't
going to make it, so I grabbed the nearest thing to me, a pitch
fork.” I watched him step closer to Creolas, who stood unmoving,
next to me. “I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner.”

“You killed him with a pitch fork?” Creolas
questioned, his voice had a slight monotone to it, as if he still
didn't believe. “How did you get him passed Mother?”

“After he died, I wrapped him with cloth
around the wound and I dragged him upstairs and put him in bed.
Mama didn't even wake up, like she was used to him not being
there.” Nick took one step closer and folded his hands in front of
him.

“Why did you do that, Nick?” Creolas asked
and the hurt could be heard in his voice.

“Have you ever seen a 16 year old beaten so
badly that you couldn't make out facial features?” Nick questioned,
Creolas closed his eyes. “Everything I ever did at home, when he
was alive, learning to defend myself, learning to fight, keeping
the anger, the hatred, I did to protect you and to protect our
mother.”

Am I supposed to thank you for that?” He
stepped up, closing the gap between him, and his brother to little
less than two feet.

Nick shook his head and stared into his
brother's eyes.

“What do you want from me?” Creolas spoke,
slowly, and I watched Nick sigh and turn back to the fire. Creolas
shook his head, turned, and left the room. I looked back and forth
between Julian, who was staring at Nick, and Quinn, who was staring
at the floor, then I stopped at Nick, who glanced at me, quickly,
then went back to the fire.

18

I stood up, quickly and left the room,
following the sounds of the footsteps that lead off down the hall
and up the stairs. I found Creolas in his room, standing there,
facing the window, with one hand on either side of the sill,
staring out at the yard. I stepped towards him, knowing that he
knew I was there, but he didn't acknowledge me until I placed a
hand flat on his back.

“You shouldn't be here.” He whispered,
softly, caringly. “I don't want you to get in trouble with
Julian.”

“I wanted to make sure you were all right.” I
replied and moved to his side to look at his face, the only emotion
on his face was confusion. “Are you?”

“No.” He replied with a sigh. “I'm not.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Please, leave.” He asked and glanced down at
me. “I'd like to be alone.”

“Are you sure?” I questioned then watched him
nod, but as I turned to leave the room, I heard the shifting of his
coat and looked back at him to see him facing me, with his hands
crossed over his chest. “If you need anything, just call.”

“Why are you doing this?” Creolas asked. I
smiled and shrugged. “Oh come now, you must know if I was you and
you had done to me the things I have done, I would be hoping you
would rot in Hell.”

“See, that's how we're different, you and I.”
I replied, stepping further into the room. “I think of myself as a
very observant person.”

“And, what have you observed about me?” He
asked and I watched as smile cross his face, reaching those red
eyes. It was different then the smile I was used to from him.

“Answer one question for me first.” I said
and slowly closed the door. Creolas looked at me as if to ask if I
were nuts, then he stepped closer, his eyebrows coming together
over his nose. I sat down in the chair, by the desk and watched
Creolas sit down on the bed. He nodded telling me to go on and ask.
“How do you feel about me?”

This question seemed to stun him, and he got
up, walking back to the window.

“Why did you ask me that?” He questioned,
softly.

“I don't know.” I looked down at my nervously
twitching fingers, the back up at him. “It's just that I've been
thinking about everything that's happened between us.”