I
Viktor
~ * ~

It was Flannery that led me back to Seth and Fareed.

Not some six months earlier I had rescued a little girl from an earthquake in Greece. She was so delicate in my arms I was terrified I would break her as we flew from the rubble to safety. I calmed her tears and promised her I would keep her safe.

You are expecting to hear that then I felt all my worries wash away, that I found solace and purpose in this child. But that fear never left – I had not yet healed from the incident with Memnoch, you see. And you will laugh to think me a coward, but that is what I was, and I abandoned her to the care of two ladies in Florida.

So I wandered the world, still feeling myself little more than a ghost in the depths of my despair. Pure coincidence that I recognised Flannery, and only good fortune that I retained enough presence of mind to follow her silently to her destination.

It was there that I found Seth and Fareed's new laboratory, and there that they confessed the truth.

"You are saying this child is— is made from my genetic material." I was astonished. I had not even dreamed that such a thing could be possible.

"Yes. You are, for all intents and purposes, his father."

"And you weren't going to tell me about this."

"We were going to wait until he was old enough to understand."

I knew, suddenly, that if I gave breath to this rage welling up inside me, that they would never let me near the child again.

So I did that ridiculous thing David is always telling me to do.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten.

"I wish you had told me," I said, because it was, after all, the very short summary of my displeasure. The fear, the anger, everything came back to that.

They watched me rather like they were expecting me to explode, and I took a small pleasure in taking them by surprise.

"I apologise," said Fareed. "We didn't think you'd agree to it if we told you first."

I frowned. "You are raising him together? Here?"

"The three of us, myself, Seth and Flannery. And he will always know the truth about us."

"You cannot bring a child into the Blood," I hissed.

"I promise you, we won't. This child – Viktor – will grow up human. He won't be like Claudia."

That, I felt, was uncalled for. It was not his place to use her name. "You can't raise a human child with vampires," I said. "He'll go mad." This was, after all, something I'd spent a lot of soul searching on just recently.

"We will keep no secrets from him. And we will teach him how to keep them himself."

The three of them all seemed quite confident. Seth watched me with deceptive calm, but I knew he would react with the instincts of an ancient killer were I to move unexpectedly.

I mumbled something, I don't remember what, and I left.

I was full of fear for them, the old terror for what might happen to them when the other ancient ones found out now increased tenfold. Would they kill the child too? Surely such a thing was forbidden.

I flew to Florida to check on Rose, where she slept peacefully in her bed. I could hear her heartbeat, her breathing, feel her fragile mortality.

It was almost dawn before I could tear myself away.

--

It took some time before Louis acknowledged me. 'If you wanted a civil conversation, you would knock on the door and wait,' he had told me before. So I paced the room until he set his book aside and turned his gaze to me.

"Where did I go wrong with Claudia?" I demanded.

He blinked, slowly. I wondered if it hurt him to hear her name as it had me to speak it. "I do not know where to begin."

"You've never hesitated to criticise me behind my back, is it really so hard to do it to my face?"

He shook his head. "I do not recall ever hesitating at that either." He smiled. "You were controlling and domineering and utterly unpredictable, but Lestat, even if you hadn't, Claudia couldn't grow up. She felt trapped in that child's body and it drove her mad. You went wrong the moment you gave her the blood."

"And what if she... she had remained human?"

Louis's voice softened in sympathy. "Is this about Rose?"

I'd forgotten he knew about Rose. I didn't want to tell him the truth, because to explain it seemed so huge. It was impossible to fit into this little house; these candles and musty books. "I just want to know if I can interact with a child without hurting them."

"It's dangerous for children to learn about us because they will forget to fear us."

I smiled. I made certain to let my teeth show.

"If I tell you it's impossible you'll do it anyway," said Louis, because time has turned him into a passive-aggressive little thing. "Of course you can. The only thing preventing it is you."

By which he meant my own impulses. My inability to pass a simmering pot without stirring it up.

"Let Rose be," he said. "Be her beloved uncle, but let her grow up in the sun."

I left him and flew to Paris, where David was ensconced.

I didn't want to explain the truth to David either, this time because he would say "Really, Lestat," and ask how I had not guessed the truth the minute they asked for my seed and question my wisdom in allowing them to take the samples in the first place.

But he knew about Rose, because I had recruited his help in having her made my ward.

His advice was so much the same as Louis's that I suspected conspiracy. But, I thought, whether or not I returned the child would grow up among vampires. So it was not really my decision at all.

--

I found them again in New York. At this point it had been almost a year, and Seth and Fareed were surprised to see me. Flannery was with them, still mortal for the time being.

The child stared at me when he was brought into the room and shuffled behind his mother's legs.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked.

"You're the Vampire Lestat," the boy mumbled. "My father."

"You told him?" I asked Seth.

"Of course. It was never our intention to keep it from Viktor."

Just me, I thought angrily.

"We weren't expecting to see you again," said Fareed.

The words hurt, and it took actual effort to remind myself that my continued presence in the child's life would not be served by losing my temper now. "I needed some time to think."

The three adults looked at me with identical expressions of surprise.

"It does happen!" I said. I folded my arms. "I want to be a part of his life."

Seth's eyes softened in sympathy.

"That will be up to Viktor," said Fareed at last. He knelt until he was at Viktor's eye level. "Viktor, do you mind if your father stays for a little while?"

The boy looked up at me, wide-eyed. After a moment, he shook his head. He let Fareed take his hand and lead him over to me.

"What do I... do?" How did you entertain a child? I had no idea.

"Sit with him, read to him, let him talk to you," said Fareed.

"What should I read him?"

"You could try the Vampire Lestat, I suppose, but it might be a bit above his reading level." Fareed was laughing. I wondered how I could ever have loved him.

"Start with Goodnight Moon," said Flannery. "That's his favourite."

We sat on the little armchair and I read the book while the boy – Viktor – fumbled at the pages with tiny hands and murmured the words along with me. As I reached the final page, he sighed and curled into my side, eyes fluttering into light sleep.

His hair was blond, gold as mine of earlier years. I couldn't yet see the echo of my features in him, but it would come.

I decided to run an experiment. It seemed appropriate, given the circumstances. My beloved Rose I would distance myself from, remaining her Uncle Lestan and seeing her only from afar. Viktor, I would integrate myself into his life.

--

By the time he was five, I had the terrible suspicion that Viktor didn't like me.

Rose was always happy to see me. But Viktor, whom I saw many times more often, treated me with suspicion. I brought him gifts from my travels – bird whistles from the temples of Mexico, candy from Japan, woven dolls from Peru and a tiny replica piano from Vienna.

People usually like me. Even those who profess to hate me would cross an ocean to help me, if I asked. I don't need to win people over.

Perhaps it was true that absence made the heart grow fonder.

I expressed my dismay in this to Fareed. I didn't want Viktor to grow up with his father a distant, indifferent figure.

"Lestat, it may seem to you that you are visiting all the time, but to him you are the man he sees a few times a year, whom everybody expects him to call Father. He's not stupid. He knows you're trying to win him over with presents."

"I thought children liked presents."

"He likes the presents. But he'd like to see you more."

I considered that for a moment. "I will stay here, then," I declared. "You seem to have plenty of space."

I could tell that I'd surprised him. "For... how long?"

I spread my arms wide. "Forever! Or at least until he's grown."

Fareed seemed to be lost for words. "Of course, you are welcome," he said. "We would love to have you here. I'll let the others know immediately."

If I were always near, I thought, I would be able to protect them all. Between Seth and I, we should present enough of a threat to make any of the ancients think twice.

--

One thing all four of us were in agreement on was that Viktor should have the privilege of seeing everything the world had to offer.

Viktor learned of the Romans from a villa in Rome, the great empires of India from a little house in Bombay, of the French Revolution from a tiny Paris flat. We taught him every language we knew between us. He took to books as a gift given, and soon surpassed our supply of suitable reading.

What a family of contrasts we were! Flannery and Fareed, perhaps a decade apart in age, but both children of the twentieth century and full of its sensibilities. Myself, an 18th century French nobleman, and Seth, a being of incredible age and experience.

And yet the three of them shared their interest in medicine and science, and I was the outsider in their joy with every new discovery.

For his part, Viktor asked questions constantly and between the four of us we were able to answer most to his satisfaction. He devoured book after book, collecting them in piles that would eventually be shipped back to the compound in San Francisco. My own mother had been more interested in reading than my upbringing, and it seemed to me a great injustice to have the same happen in reverse with my son.

Sometimes he grew restless in the confines of the building and we would be compelled to walk with him under the stars. I am ashamed to say that I didn't enjoy those walks. His hand clutched in mine, warm and small, served only to remind me of his mortality. The open sky, so fascinating to him, reminded me that there were beings out there so powerful that they could kill him in the blink of an eye.

In Viktor's eighth year, Seth and Fareed made good on their promise to Flannery, and she was brought over into the Blood. Some days after the change, I found her in the little garden at the back of our current residence, staring entranced at the moon.

"Any regrets?" I asked.

She turned and smiled, shaking her head. "I have all that I could have wanted. I even have the respect of my peers." Not her human scientists, I realised – the other researchers, the members of Fareed's little team of scientists.

Viktor accepted this change in his mother with the same grace he accepted everything in his short but full life. His daylight hours were given to mortal servants, and grew shorter as time passed. With three medical doctors watching him with such care, his health never suffered from the lack of sunlight.

I became desperate for a show of bad behaviour in him. I longed for a screaming tantrum, for a show of temper, for him to fling his book across the room in disappointment at a bad ending. I tried his patience in subtle ways and he always accepted the disturbance to his routine and moved on.

When faced with restrictions he accepted them, no matter how ridiculous. I reorganised his bookshelf and he just moved it all back. I demanded he stop reading and watch television, which he had never taken to. And he did so, curling up at my side and watching with apparent interest.

I had no idea what the others thought of this, and none of them ever called me on it. At last, like the bullies of childhood, I tired of it. Viktor continued as sweet-natured and open as ever, content in his books and full of questions.

It was as comfortable an existence as I ever had.

~ * ~
II
The Vampire Lestat
~ * ~

When Viktor was twelve he told me he'd read The Vampire Lestat. It was difficult to imagine him reading it, and difficult to imagine myself as the person I'd been when I wrote it. So much has changed. But I asked him if he had any questions and promised to answer them truthfully.

Although if he had read the later books he may have no reason to trust my promises.

"I thought we were supposed to keep it all secret," he said.

I grinned. "The truth is, you don't have to do everything people tell you to do. You just have to be prepared for them to say 'I told you so' when it doesn't go the way you expected."

Viktor furrowed his brow. "I don't think that's the kind of advice you're supposed to give me."

I laughed. "But I promised you the truth, you see."

"Do people really believe it was just fiction?"

"Who would believe it? Never doubt the ability of the human race to blind their eyes to the truth. Mortals have so many things to think about. Vampires are beyond their ability to comprehend – and those who can, they cast out."

"You're not very nice," he said. There was no judgement in his tone, just a statement of bemused fact.

I admitted that this was true. "But I won't ever hurt you," I said. I meant it with all my heart, at that moment.

He nodded slowly.

"Can I meet your mother?" he asked. "I don't have any grandparents."

I had no idea where Gabrielle was, and hadn't for some years. "If I find her again, I'll invite her here to meet you," I promised. Who knew how she would react to the news? She had never shown any interest in children, even her own. "Is there anything else?"

"Will you write a book about me?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe." But I knew I wouldn't, not until I knew he would be protected from any harm the revelation of his existence would cause.

--

I had no idea how David had found out, but he contacted me to say he was intending to visit, and made good on the threat the next week, knocking on the front door of our little townhouse with excessive politeness.

I knew it was he, because I could sense nothing from that mind. I flung open the door and marvelled at him standing there, perfectly proper, hair only a little mussed from the flight. We embraced and he kissed me. At last he pulled back and smiled.

Seth and Fareed greeted him like old friends, and he and Flannery made polite introductions, first to each other, then to Viktor.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Viktor," said David.

"Would you like some tea? I'll put the kettle on," said Viktor, and David waited with pleasure as Viktor prepared the teapot and passed teacups around the room. It had never bothered him that he was the only one who drank them.

"Thank you," said David gravely, as Viktor poured. He sat at the table opposite him and picked a book up. It was a biography of Alexander Hamilton. "Are you reading this for school?"

"Oh, I don't go to school," said Viktor. "I read whatever interests me."

David was shocked, although of course he was too polite to say so. He looked at the title page of the book and asked how Viktor was finding American history. He drew Viktor into a conversation about the War of Independence, and I was suddenly aware that my son was an American, his accent sprawling lazily against David's stiff British speech.

Once we were alone again, David said to, "He's a delightful young man, Lestat, but he needs to go to school."

"Why should he go to school? It's a silly, modern idea anyway. He's learning more at home."

David held up a hand. "I know, I know, but he'll need to know how to interact with mortals when he grows up, and it will be easier if he starts young."

"I don't see why it should matter," I said.

"Because nearly everybody his age that he meets will have gone to school," said David. "If you don't mind, I'll talk to Fareed about it."

"I don't know why you're even asking my opinion," I muttered. "You never listen anyway."

He shook his head, eyes full of laughter. "If you really don't want him to go, just say so. But I think you should give him the option."

--

So, at David's suggestion Viktor attended school, although we moved so frequently he had little opportunity to make close friends. After the first six months we asked if he wanted to stop, and he said no.

Growing up separated from other children had left him without the shared experiences that lead to close connections, David told me. But I thought some of it was that Viktor was naturally quiet and intellectual, which he presumably got from his mother.

Sometimes students came to the house to work on projects, usually in the afternoon before we awoke. He told them his parents got home late and his schoolmates seemed to accept it. Sometimes he went to birthday parties or the cinema.

He asked for help with his homework, which was a good way to start arguments about the accuracy of whatever subject was being taught. Flannery and Fareed had strong opinions about science education.

In Canada, the sun set in winter before Viktor got home from school. We'd agreed a long time before that Viktor should never come home to an empty house, so I was in the living area battling with the computer when I heard him open the gate.

He was talking to someone – a girl, by her voice. She giggled.

"Welcome home," I called, when he unlocked the door.

Viktor appeared a few moments later, girl in tow. "This is my Uncle Lestat," he said to her. His cheeks were faintly pink. "Uncle, this is Chloe. She's in my physics class. Where's mom?"

Viktor never called Flannery "mom", so it had to be for the girl's benefit.

"She's at the university," I said, which had the benefit of being completely true. The university library stayed open late enough to suit even a vampire researcher's schedule.

"We're going to work on a paper upstairs," said Viktor.

I waved them off. "Have fun."

After I was out of earshot, at least by human standards, the girl leant over and whispered. "Lestat? Like the vampire?"

"His parents were fans," Viktor whispered back.

She laughed delightedly. "You know... I think my mother named me after Louis. My middle name is Louisa."

"No!" said Viktor.

"She's never confirmed it, but I know she has all the books."

They disappeared into Viktor's room, where they did indeed proceed to work on schoolwork.

"Uncle Lestat?" I repeated, later that evening. We had at last reached an accord where I wrote and he did his homework in silence in the same room. He used his little computer, so thin now and fast too. I had returned to pen and paper, which I would type slowly into a computer when I was satisfied.

"You're too young to be my dad," said Viktor, making a face. "It's hard enough to convince them you're my uncle." He sighed. "I don't like having to lie."

"Do you want to quit school?"

"No!" he said. "I just wish it weren't such a secret."

"Well, you can't say I haven't done my part to fix that," I pointed out. "People still remember the Vampire Lestat."

We worked in silence for a while.

"Why haven't you introduced me to Louis?" asked Viktor suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"He's obviously important to you. But I've never met him. I've met David."

I bit my tongue to keep from pointing out that this was because David didn't know when to stop poking his nose into other people's business. You could take the vampire out of the Talamasca...

"He doesn't know I exist, does he," said Viktor.

"We don't talk much," I admitted. "Not about... things that matter." We barely talked about anything, at the moment. He was distracted, pulled into the whirlwind of Armand's little New York compound.

Viktor sighed.

"I'll tell him," I said. "The next time I see him."

--

Louis yelled at me. Of course he did.

"He wants to meet you," I interjected.

This shut him up, as I'd known it would. "Why on earth...?"

"I don't know. Maybe he wants to tell you off for all the horrible things you've done to me over the years."

"All the horrible things I've—" he repeated, then he started laughing.

He didn't stop laughing, even after I demanded to know what was so funny, so I left him.

--

Our next destination was California – San Francisco, where we had all met the first time some fourteen years earlier. Viktor grew tanned in the sunshine, going out with schoolmates in the hours while we slept in darkness.

Louis arrived unannounced one evening early in spring. He'd made an effort to look modern for once, which left him looking like an escapee from the pages of one of the magazines Viktor was always buying. He read them carefully from cover to cover, and once he was finished, he placed them in the recycling. The corners of the pages were always pristine.

Seth and Fareed were perfectly welcoming and I wondered if I should warn Louis not to give them any samples.

Viktor tumbled down the stairs into the room when called, gently reminding us that he had an essay to write, and Louis gasped.

On seeing his visitor Viktor turned pale, then blushed, then his hands clenched. He visibly pulled himself together and waited to be introduced.

"I'm sorry," said Louis gently. "You must get tired of hearing that you look like Lestat."

I met Viktor's eyes, and he swept them skyward for just a second. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't expecting company."

"I'm sorry," said Louis. "I didn't think to send word."

I interrupted this little apology war to point out there were plenty of chairs in the room and that they should sit down. This they did, Louis sinking into one of the armchairs with easy grace and Viktor sitting stiffly at the table.

"I don't really think we look that alike," said Viktor. "Lestat is much blonder."

Louis cocked his head to the side. "You look as he did when I first knew him, although he was paler, of course."

Despite his request of six months earlier, Viktor watched Louis in silence. I felt much the same way, but that is because I have always found it pleasant to stare at Louis. I wasn't sure what thoughts Viktor was entertaining.

At last he excused himself to get back to his schoolwork. But the next evening he asked Louis to walk with him along the beach.

I don't know what they said, but they both returned thoughtful and more at ease with each other.

Louis asked me to walk him out.

"He isn't at all like you," said Louis.

"You don't need to say it with so much satisfaction," I complained.

"But it is for the best. I don't think the world could take two of you," said Louis. He took me hand and squeezed it. "You're unique. Isn't that what you want?"

"I could wish he were a little less conformist," I said, which was a lie, because he was perfect.

"He's so young," said Louis. "Do you remember being that age? I barely can."

"I was probably unhappy," I said. "I was often unhappy."

Louis hummed in agreement. "He is very lucky to have so many parents who love him." He turned and gave me a rare, lovely smile. "Thank you for inviting me here."

I hadn't, except that I so clearly had. I wrapped him in my arms and kissed his cheek before letting him go.

--

It was late summer and the sun was setting later, but the fairground on the pier was still open. I invited Viktor to walk out with me, and he accepted. I asked him about school and about the movie he'd seen last week with some of his school mates.

"And what did you think of Louis?" I asked. "Did he bore you with all talk of dusty old books and his lies about me?"

Viktor's expression soured. "He was fine."

We walked in silence for some time.

"Do you mind?" he asked suddenly.

"Do I mind what?"

"That I'm not like you. I know I'm too quiet and I think too much and I'm never any fun. I know I'm not what you wanted."

I was staring at him at this point. "I was making fun of Louis, not you."

He flushed. "I know, but it just... made me think."

"You do realise if Louis told you you weren't like me he meant it as a compliment. I think he wouldn't be able to imagine anything worse than constantly being compared to me."

He huffed. "Why do you do that? Pretend you don't like each other?"

"What makes you think it's pretend?"

He fixed me with a steady gaze. "Remember, you promised you'd be truthful."

I shrugged. "Habit? It's fun? I don't always have deep reasons for what I do."

"But how do you know it's not real?"

"I think if you were more like me we wouldn't get along at all."

He looked at me doubtfully.

"If you want the proof of it, just look at the people I surround myself with. Louis, David, even Marius. Intellectuals all."

"I'd like to meet Marius someday," he said thoughtfully.

"Oh, Marius," I said. "What do you need Marius for when you have Seth? He's six thousand years old. He can tell you everything Marius can, and then some."

"Everybody has their own experience of history," said Viktor, very seriously for one who hadn't even seen two decades yet. "Besides. He's important to you, too."

I rolled my eyes, but I could see the beginnings of a smile on Viktor's face and I knew he was starting to understand.

~ * ~
III
Rose
~ * ~

The year Viktor turned fourteen I discovered Rose had been living in a hellhole of so-called Justice and I decided the experiment was over, mortals were terrible and I would bring her back with me.

Rose accepted the truth about her Uncle Lestan wide-eyed but with no doubt in her heart.

"You believe me?" I asked, just to be sure.

"Of course," she said. "I always knew I wasn't imagining you taking me up into the stars away from the island."

"I thought it would be better to let you have a normal life," I said. "But I was wrong, and I won't leave you alone again."

She clung to me and turned her face to my chest and said nothing more.

I brought her back with me, as promised. She flew first class in an airplane, her Aunt Marge accompanying, because I didn't want her to be alone.

She landed at midnight and I met her at the airport. When she saw me waiting she ran to me and clung tight. I called a taxi to take us home. Aunt Marge took a hotel near the airport. She would fly back in a few days, and I promised them both that they would be able to say goodbye.

The others were anxious when we arrived, confused at my sudden absence and at the mortal girl at my side.

"This is Rose, my ward," I told them. "She's going to be living here from now on." I pushed through, ignoring their stunned expressions.

I carried her suitcases to the larger of the spare rooms. She sat on the bed, painfully thin and drawn. She was exhausted, and I saw her eyes drooping even as I showed her to the bathroom.

When I returned to the others I was met with a chorus of "Lestat, you can't just"s but once I explained the situation they agreed, as I knew they would.

I returned not long before dawn and watched her sleep for long moments. How tender I felt at that moment. I gently touched her shoulder until she woke, eyes flying open and drawing a sharp breath.

"It's me," I said. "You're safe."

Her eyes were very wide, and I realised I hadn't turned on a lamp. This I did with a quick flick of my mind.

She collapsed against me. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I thought I was back there."

I held her a moment. "I need to rest now," I said. "But I will be with you again at sunset, I promise. You can explore where you like here in the daylight." We had mortal servants, of course. I had left a note for them to take care of Rose when she woke.

"You'll really be here?" she asked. "You won't go away?"

"I'll be here as soon as the sun sets," I said.

--

I woke shortly before sunset, a nameless worry clutched around my heart until I remembered Rose. I dressed as quickly as possible, barely sparing a thought for my looks.

Viktor and Rose were in the old-fashioned kitchen together, cups of tea steaming in front of them untouched.

He was still in his school uniform – he must have only been home half an hour at most.

Viktor was staring at Rose in suspicious disbelief. "He took you flying?"

I was startled to realise that Viktor was jealous. He'd never shown any particular desire for my attention at all, but having to share it was not sitting well with him.

"High above the clouds into the stars," she said. "When I was a little girl and he saved me, and again, to get here."

She wasn't trying to make him envious. But perhaps my Rose had grown up just as isolated as Viktor, in her own way. She didn't notice he was growing sullen.

"You're really Uncle Lestan's son?" she asked. "I had no idea he had a son. You look so much like him."

"I didn't know Lestat had a... I didn't know about you, either," said Viktor.

I stepped into the room, then cleared my throat to make it more obvious. Rose's expression brightened. She ran over to me and hugged me. "Can I really stay here? I like this place."

We were wintering in a restored castle in Scotland. The night hours were long and the stone fireplaces provided enough heat for even our frozen limbs.

It made me think of my own ancestral home, lying in ruins. By rights I should hate the place, but I suddenly longed to return. It would not be so expensive to hire an architect, have it restored to its former – no. I would restore it to a new glory, to suit my own taste.

"You can stay as long as you like," I promised.

Over Rose's shoulder, Viktor bit his lip and looked away.

--

"Why didn't I know about Rose?" asked Viktor. I could tell that I'd really hurt him. His lip wobbled like he was near tears.

I had no easy, glib answer for him. "I wanted her to grow up in the mortal world. It was safer to keep your two worlds separate."

"I wish you'd told me," he said. "I wouldn't have told anybody else. I know how to keep secrets."

I shook my head. "The old ones, they can just pluck secrets right out of your head." But David had known, and Louis too. And no other immortals had ever gone near Rose, as far as I could tell. "I've always been so afraid for you," I continued. "For all of you – Fareed, Seth, Flannery. What they've built is so unique, so new, I can't even begin to predict how the old ones will react. So I kept you a secret from Rose, and she a secret from you."

He held my gaze a bit longer, then dropped it, shoulders slumping. "I think I learned more about you through your books than in the ten years you've lived here," he muttered.

"Then you are one up on Rose, for she never knew me even from my books," I snapped.

He flinched, and I was instantly stricken with guilt.

"You never touch me," he said, raising his head again, eyes wild. "You're so open with everyone else, even Rose, but you never come near me."

I was taken aback. How to explain that he never seemed to welcome my attention, that he would hug his other parents but always hesitate before he came to me?

How to explain my own fear, when I felt the fragile mortality of him?

I wondered what other accusations he had in store to throw at me. So I was a failure as a father; did he have to twist it into eloquent words and hurl them at me?

And suddenly, I knew what he wanted. I didn't read his mind, I wouldn't deny him that privacy, but somehow I knew.

"I love you," I said. "I do."

His breath hitched. "You do?"

"I do," I repeated. "I always have. You're perfect. All I've ever wanted is to just... be a part of your life." I didn't want to start crying, but I've always cried easily, and I never saw the need to hide my emotions before. Never had to be strong for someone before.

So he came to me, and I held him and stroked his soft hair.

I wondered what it meant that he had grown up so serious, when he was raised in luxury and denied nothing except an ordinary life with mortals. And my Rose had been given that life and had only received pain from it. Was my own rebellious nature the relic of a youngest child, raised in the restrictions of a noble household with uninterested parents?

And I became aware of how ridiculous it was to fear rejection and judgement from a child. He may be my opposite but he loved me, as surely as any of the others, and he looked up to me as a mentor. It was my disapproval he feared.

I held him closer.

~ * ~
EPILOGUE
~ * ~

It was another six months before I felt comfortable enough leaving Rose to visit the remains of my old home. It was filthy, caked with dirt and smoke and trash from decades of unknown mortals using it as a shelter – campers, squatters, I had no clue.

The upper floors were a ruin, anything organic having rotted away or in the process of it. But the stone had endured. I pressed my hand against it. Stone endures.

I could destroy it, I thought. I could crush it to dust and use that to build a new home. Something sleek and modern and concrete.

Or I could use it as the foundation, layer plaster on top until the past was buried, only visible to those who knew it.

I realised with some surprise that I wasn't alone. An immortal heartbeat approached, mind closed to me. I turned.

"I hate this place," said Gabrielle. "Why are you here?"

"It's just a place," I said. "Just stone and rot. I want to make it something new. A home. Why shouldn't I? It's mine." I pulled off a handful of timber and crushed it between my palms.

She cocked her head to the side. "I hear you have a son," she said.

I wondered who'd told her. "A son," I said. "And a ward – a daughter, almost. They want to meet you." Rose had never said as much – but she would, I knew.

"Do you love them?" she asked.

"Of course!" I said.

"Do not 'of course' me. You and I both know that parental connection does not beget love." And I knew it was so, not just from her but from Rose's grandparents, from Flannery's parents, from so many lives through the years.

I closed my eyes a moment. "Yes," I said. "I do. And I tell you that I love them."

She rested her hand on my cheek. "Then I will meet them. Not because they are my grandchildren, but because you love them."

I was almost unbearably moved. I gathered her up in my arms and let my head fall to her shoulder.

The wind began to moan as it whipped through the ruined towers of my past. I took Gabrielle's hand and led her away.