Chapter 16

Isobel stood on the balcony overlooking the back garden and watched Ismena run around in circles on the wilted lawn while Gabby attempted to catch her.

That’s right. Ismena was running.

It only felt like the day before that her daughter was lying in the tiny cot her father had built for her, barely the size of a watermelon. Isobel sighed, wondering how she managed to keep her daughter alive at all considering she was comparing her to fruit.

Two weeks had passed since Ismena was born, and in those scant few days, she’d grown faster than anyone had anticipated. She’d said her first word when she was a week old, gurgling Mom and Dad, her flame-red hair had reached the middle of her back, her features had defined into the spitting image of Nye’s, and her power had manifested the moment she’d been able to stand up.

She was growing so fast it was hard to keep her clothed at all. Outfits came in, and then a day later, they were folded away in a case ready to be donated to goodwill in as new condition. Her appetite never slowed, and at every meal, she would inhale everything on her plate and still look for more. She needed something to fuel her accelerated growth spurt, after all.

They didn’t know if her life was limited or if she’d grow to maturity and remain immortal, or if she’d die once her destiny was fulfilled. Whatever her destiny was now that they’d managed to keep her with them and focused on the light, they didn’t know.

Everyone had become attached to Ismena quickly, especially her and Nye. Whatever happened, she didn’t want to believe her daughter was nothing more than a tool for the Unhallowed’s resurrection. She had a life now—a free life—and there was more out there for her than being a psychopathic wraith’s battery pack.

Isobel glanced up as Nye appeared beside her, seeming to have finished organizing his diabolical vampire empire for the day.

“What are you looking at?” he asked before placing a chaste kiss on her temple.

“She’s two weeks old,” she said, pointing to the garden. “Look at her.”

Nye narrowed his eyes at the witches on the lawn, and whatever he was thinking he kept to himself.

“She’s growing faster than she ever did in my stomach,” Isobel went on. “And don’t get me started on her powers. She had a tantrum and made my coffee mug explode yesterday.”

“She was always going to be more than normal,” Nye said. “Don’t tell me the thought of her growing up fast never crossed your mind because I’m pretty sure we all had it at some point.”

“I was too busy rolling around the house,” she retorted. “Or do you have the memory of a goldfish?”

Nye snorted, hiding a laugh, and she slapped him on the arm.

“Look at her, Isobel,” he said, nodding at Ismena, who was chattering away happily with Gabby. “She’s happy. She’s healthy. She’s already learning how to control her powers. So none of this is normal, but what’s normal when I’m a vampire, Gabby’s a witch, and you’re the mother of a magical baby with a two-week gestation period? She’ll be okay.”

Isobel nodded, not able to voice her real fear. That Eleanor would come back and take Ismena from them. Their first duty was to their daughter, but what if they still couldn’t fight the Unhallowed and win? What if they were forced to use their sweet, little girl the same way Eleanor was going to? She was just an innocent child.

“There you are,” came the sound of Alex’s voice behind them.

Turning, Isobel saw the pile of shopping bags clutched in his hands and shook her head. Despite her fears, Ismena had the most mismatched family around to keep her safe. It was one beacon in the uncertainty of their immediate future.

“Alex, you didn’t,” she said with a groan.

“What?” he asked with a mischievous grin. “Can’t I buy my niece a giant pile of toys?”

“She’ll grow out of them in a few weeks,” Nye grumbled. “Then what’ll you do with them?”

“So what? She’s still a kid now. She should have something to play with other than her grumpy father.”

Isobel plucked some of the bags out of her brother’s hand and began sifting through them. There was a selection of My Little Ponies, Barbie dolls, and soft toys. She held up a bright yellow container filled with building blocks and was certain Ismena was a pretty lucky girl to have an immortal uncle with deep pockets.

“He has a point, Nye,” she said, putting the toys back into the bags. “Mena is still a little girl, no matter how fast she’s growing up. We should let her be one while she has the chance.”

“Is she, though? A little girl?” the spy asked. “She’s the Immortal Witch.”

“Infinite knowledge and understanding,” she mused. “I’m pretty sure that’s how Gabby described it.”

“Infinite whatever,” Alex declared. “No matter what she’s meant to be or do, she still needs to have fun.”

“Go give them to her already,” Isobel declared, waving him off. “And while you’re at it, take the…” Her words trailed off with a groan as Alex bounded over the balcony, hopped onto the roof, and landed on the lawn below. “…stairs.”

“He won’t listen to you,” Nye said. “He’s smitten.”

“I suppose that means you can keep your head?”

He smirked. “For now.”

Turning to watch the goings-on in the garden, she laughed as Ismena began pulling at the bags in her uncle’s hands. He lifted them up out of reach, but she jumped…and floated for a split second before returning lithely to the ground. The things she could do already were astounding. Soon, she’d leave her poor mother behind.

“Come,” Nye said as Alex led their daughter inside so she could open her presents. “Let’s oversee the mess that’s about to explode all over the house.”

It was moments like these she’d cherish when Ismena was grown, and knowing how soon that would be, Isobel’s heart sank. How big would she be when her first Christmas came around? Twenty-one?

Shaking her head, she followed Nye into the house, determined not to think about it.

Tristan listened to the sounds of glee coming from the living room at the front of the house and tried to find happiness in Ismena’s joy, but he couldn’t find it within himself. Alex had purchased more toys than was likely appropriate, but the little witch sounded more than pleased.

Sitting at the island bench in the kitchen, he stared out over the wilted garden and sighed.

On the outside, he might look like a thirty-year-old man, but on the inside, he was worn down by the ages, his continued struggle with his past and loyalties a constant drag on his day-to-day life. Gabby had removed Eleanor’s compulsion, and his visit with Arrow had confirmed it, but he still didn’t feel right about any of it.

He should’ve been able to withstand the wraith’s power and break free. The problem was, he hadn’t known he was under her control until he was standing over Gabby at the standing stones, entirely prepared to rip her apart…just like he’d torn Nye’s witch contact, Sabine, limb from limb.

Resting his head in his palms, he tried to clear his mind of the image but wasn’t having much luck. He’d done terrible things over the millennia, especially in the first decade of his vampire life. He’d slaughtered innocents who’d strayed too close to his hideaway in the forest of Germany. He’d killed so many that the local peasants had referred to him as the ‘Devil Who Walked.’ His legacy of murder was so strong they still told stories about the monster who lurked in the woods to this day.

He wasn’t that person anymore, not after Arrow helped him control what he’d become and remember his humanity, but the compulsion Eleanor had placed him under brought back all those memories. The sense his life was not in his own hands, that he’d killed innocents, that he almost killed Gabby…the thought was too much to bear for a man like him. A knight who believed in loyalty and a strict code of honor above all else.

Movement roused him from his self-loathing, and he raised his head. Ismena was standing beside him, her little hand tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“Hello, little one,” he said, surprised to see her wandering the house on her own. “Where has everyone gone?”

Ismena was already grown enough to play quietly and not need constant vigilance, but Isobel hadn’t let her out of her sight since she was born.

She smiled up at him expectantly, like she knew he was worried about something and was waiting for him to tell her.

“Do you need somethin’?” he asked. “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head and tugged on his shirt once more a frown pulling at her mouth.

Tristan shoved off the chair and knelt before the little girl, who only stood there and watched him with her strange honey colored eyes. Even he could see there was a depth in her that shouldn’t be present in a two-year-old child, and it was unnerving. How much did she understand and was unable to voice? Perhaps she did sense his melancholy and desired to help.

“I don’t know how much you can understand,” he said, smoothing back her fire-like hair. “But I need to tell someone, and perhaps you are the perfect little princess who could listen.”

She stared up at him expectantly, her honey eyes sparkling with curiosity. What a strange little creature she was. He’d never had much interaction with children after he turned, but little Ismena stirred memories of his own daughter. When his human life had been taken from him, it’d been years since he’d seen his family. The Crusades had been brutal, and many men had been parted from families the same as his. He never knew what became of his wife and daughter, but he hoped they’d found happiness after his loss.

“I can’t trust myself,” he said, his thoughts heavy with the absence of his family. “Eleanor cast her compulsion on me, and I feel as if I might turn at any moment. What if I’m not safe? What if I hurt you without knowing what I’m doin’?” He cast his gaze to the floor and shook his head. “I don’t belong anymore. I lost my family a very long time ago. I can’t be the cause of this one’s demise.”

He glanced up in surprise as a little hand brushed against his cheek, and her warm skin began to heat his coldness.

“Happy!” she chortled, then grasped his hand, tugging him forward.

He blinked, his throat feeling tight with emotion. With one word, she’d dismissed a thousand years of anguish, and he felt lighter. Had she placed some of her power inside him?

“Where are we goin’?” he asked as he rose, and she led him through the house, her tiny feet treading purposely as they went.

She didn’t reply, determined in her course. When they entered the living room at the front of the manor, she saw the mess of toys and smiled.

Immediately, Ismena threw herself down onto the floor and upended the plastic container, spilling colored blocks over the floor.

“Block!” she cried, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, a wide smile on her face.

“Do you wish me to play?” he asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Clapping her hands, the blocks began to rise up off the floor, hovering in the air.

“That’s quite impressive,” he said, plucking up a green rectangle. “Can you build a tower?”

She nodded and squinted her eyes. Immediately, he felt the air tingle with power, and the blocks began to float, merging with one another. First, the foundation formed and then the walls, each little piece of plastic clicking into place until there were no more that fit.

When she was done, Ismena smiled up at Tristan, extremely pleased with her handiwork. Then she clapped her hands once more, and the entire thing crumbled to the ground.

If this was her level of control after two weeks, even at her accelerated growth, then she was going to be a very powerful witch, indeed. In all his years hunting dark witches with Arrow, he’d never seen a child display such talents. A child who manifested power other than an accidental burst of psychic ability was a rare occurrence. Ismena was incredible.

Watching as she assembled another tower, he made a decision. As long as Ismena wanted him to stay, he would. Given half the chance, Nye would be glad to see the back of him, and his position as right-hand man to the leader of the London vampires was replaceable. He could already see Reed as a fine candidate, though he was still rather green.

Yes, it was a fine idea. As long as Ismena wanted him, he would do what he could to help the little witch. Her life would be an uphill battle all the way, and if he could alleviate some of the pressure on her, then he would.

Yes, he would stay.

Isobel stared at the scene unfolding before her and shook her head in surprise.

A thousand-year-old vampire was sitting on the floor piecing together building blocks with her two-week-old daughter, who was now a very well-developed two-year-old.

“Isobel,” Nye said, appearing out of thin air behind her.

“Shh,” she murmured, waving her hand at him. “Come look at this.”

Nye leaned over her shoulder, and when he saw what was happening, a low growl sounded in his throat. He went to stride forward—probably to rip Tristan a new one for being alone in the same room as his daughter—but she pressed her palm against his chest.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“Isobel. He disappeared for weeks and arrived just in time to witness the birth. Now he’s in there alone with Ismena. Forgive me if I’m overprotective.”

“She’s perceptive, Nye. She knows his heart and wouldn’t be in there if she sensed danger in him.”

“How do you know? We don’t even know what she’s capable of. We don’t even know…” he trailed off, not wanting to voice their greatest fear.

“You can’t deny the things she’s been doing,” she argued. “I trust her, and now I trust him. Tristan is one of us and always has been. He’s been questioning his place here ever since he was compelled. Right now, seeing Ismena playing with him without a care? He’s got a place, and it’s right here with us.”

“I never liked his smugness,” Nye said sullenly.

She elbowed him in the stomach. “He’s not smug.”

“He’s a know-it-all.”

Isobel sighed, knowing she would never win this argument with Nye. The spy had always had a rivalry with the knight, or at least, that’s what she understood from the bits and pieces he’d told her in the last few months.

“She’s going to grow up within the year,” she said, voicing her thoughts. “She’ll have the weight of the supernatural world on her shoulders whether she wants it or not. She’s going to need all of us, Nye. She might have infinite power and knowledge, but somehow, I don’t think it lends itself very well to social skills. Magic, yes. Making friends?” She shook her head, worrying about her little girl’s future.

“Dad, Dad, Dad!” Ismena cried when she saw them standing in the doorway.

Tristan glanced up at them, his smile beginning to fade, and Isobel nodded, letting him know she was completely fine with their current arrangement.

Nye sighed and strode into the room. “What do we have here?” he declared, surveying her creation.

“Block!” she cried and then pointed to Tristan. “Tri-tan!” She tugged on Nye’s trouser leg until he was forced to sit beside her.

Isobel smiled, a laugh escaping her lips as she watched the two big, bad vampires playing with the little redheaded witch.

Yeah, she was pretty sure they’d be okay.

For now.