As I approached the door, I could hear the chortling cackle of a female laugh track and already knew that I was in big trouble.
“Brace yourself, chief,” Sammy advised, clearly sensing it as well and stepped through, carrying the cooler swiftly through the living room and into the kitchen. Neither Loren nor Indigo seemed to pay much mind as he opened the door and shoved it inside, slamming it closed before ushering himself back to the table to start checking voicemails.
“Karaoke, Gus? For real? Tell me she’s joking?” Loren leaned back on the couch, twisted around to look in my direction.
“Man’s gotta have hobbies.”
Loren tipped her head back and laughed, a shrill, uproarious guffaw that sent Indigo bending over into her own series of almost uncontrollable giggles.
“Really? That’s what I am? The brunt of your jokes?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Indigo gasped through her laughter. “Karaoke is nothing compared to some of the stuff she told me.”
I stared menacingly at Loren before noticing a pair of empty wine glasses on the coffee table.
“I— didn’t have any wine.”
Loren shrugged. “Now you do. I ran down to the corner store and grabbed some— figured a girls’ day wasn’t a girls’ day without some wine.”
“I didn’t realize it was a— girls’ day.”
She waved me off with a casual brush of her immaculately groomed fingers. “You boys ran off to do whatever you boys do, so— we improvised.”
“Did you actually— answer any phones while we were gone? Post any social media? Do any actual— work?”
“I beg your pardon,” Indigo replied without a small sense of indignation. “I’m usually here before sunrise and after sunset by necessity, thank you very much. The world won’t stop spinning if I stop for a few hours and share some wine with a friend.” She smiled at Loren, who returned the gesture before lifting her empty glass and holding it aloft in mid-toast. Indigo took her glass and clinked it, then eyed the empty curve of its interior.
“Looks like we need a little more.”
“I’ll follow you,” I said, walking alongside Indigo as she made her way to the kitchen. Loren leaned back in the couch and swung one leg over the other, spreading her arms along the back of the sofa.
“Uh oh, dad,” Indigo whispered, “please don’t yell at me.”
“I’m not going to yell at you,” I said quietly, glancing toward the couch to make sure Loren wasn’t paying attention. “Sammy and I— we brought something back for you to try.”
Indigo froze, clearly not liking the direction of this conversation.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Something to take the edge off.”
“What— edge?”
“You know what edge.”
Her face flushed red and I could almost feel her tense— this wasn’t a topic she wanted to discuss, that much was clear. “I’m fine.”
“Maybe you are. But you won’t be forever.”
“Do we have to talk about this now? I was having a good day.”
“I know— and I’m not trying to disrupt it. But this is something that’s better to discuss sooner rather than later.”
She sighed and leaned against the counter, running her fingers through her black and purple hair. “Okay, fine. What?”
“In the fridge,” I started, then eased the door open, pointing toward the bottom shelf, “there’s a cooler.”
“What is that?” She spaced the words apart, enunciating each one carefully.
“It’s synthetic blood.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s an aid— for vampires. Helps ease their cravings. Like I said, takes the edge off.”
“What the hell, Gus?” Cords of tendons stood out on her neck, her pink cheeks almost fully blotched red. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“You can add it to a drink— you can drink it straight. In emergency situations you can even take it intravenously. The point is, it’s available so you can settle the hunger, before—”
“Before what?”
“Before it’s— too late.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
I lowered my gaze and ruffled my hair with the fingers of my left hand, trying not to show my frustration, but clearly failing at it. “Look,” I started, “like it or not, you’re part vampire now, okay? And with that comes certain cravings. Cravings that go beyond desire, okay? They become need. You may think you can control them, and right now you probably can, but eventually you may not be able to.”
“I can’t— I don’t— I—” her voice stammered and I saw a glisten in her eyes and for a moment I was worried she was going to break out in tears.
“This is hard, Indigo, I know. I’m just— I’m trying to help, as much as I can.”
Her teeth pressed tight and she drew the tears from her squinting eyes, blinking rapidly to try and chase away whatever remained.
“I’m doing this because I care.”
“So— what? I’m just going to have to do this— forever?”
“I don’t know. Even with all my experience, I haven’t dealt with this before. I’m just trying to cover all bases.”
“Where did you even get it?”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Bullshit. Where did you get it?”
“Sammy knows a guy.”
“Like— what sort of guy?” She looked past me, suspicion cutting the tilt of her face.
“Just— a guy.”
“Jesus, Gus. Like— a drug dealer? Is that what this is? Some sort of narcotic?”
“Everything okay over there?” Loren leaned back, twisting her neck around to get a better view of our conversation.
“Peachy keen,” Indigo said with a fake smile plastered on her face and I saw concern in Loren’s eyes. She remained looking at us for a minute, clearly deciding whether to press further or let it go— then finally decided to let it go.
“Just— try it, okay? See if it makes you feel better.”
She exhaled, her nostrils flaring.
“Please?”
After another momentary pause, she finally nodded, begrudgingly acquiescing to my request, though I felt little confidence about her actual willingness to comply.
“Thank you. I’m just trying to help, okay?”
“Yeah, I know you are, Gus. I just— I wish—” she sighed. “This is all so annoying.”
“Yo, Indigo.” Sammy lowered the handset, cupping his other hand over the receiver. “Can I get some help for a minute?”
“Sure thing, Sammy.” Her lips curled, trying desperately to force away the scowl and she moved past me, walking back toward the table as I closed the refrigerator.
“Everything all right?” Loren turned as I settled myself into the couch.
“Could be better, honestly.”
“It sounded like— quite the intense conversation.” She peered over toward the desk, eying Sammy and Indigo, who were huddled together, focused on something neither of us could see from where we sat.
“She’s going through some things.” I turned back around, shifting so I was more facing Loren than the pair.
“Things. Like—” Loren leaned in, quieting her voice, “vampire things?”
My eyes widened and I struggled to try and conceal my shock.
“Oh come on, give me more credit than that, Gus. I can see them a mile away.”
“She’s not like others I’ve seen.” I felt an anxious fist closing in my chest, wondering just what Loren might consider doing. For longer than either of us had been alive there’d been a rivalry between the witches and the vampires— but of course— the vampires had rivalries with pretty much everyone.
“She’s a half-blood, right? I’ve run into a few over the years. They’re generally less dangerous than the full-bloods, but also less aware of the potential risks.”
“I’m trying to coach her.”
“You? Oh boy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re more the brute force ‘do or die’ type, Gus— not really the show someone how to do it right type.”
“I’m trying to decide if I should take offense to that.”
“I guess I’ll leave that up to you.” She picked up her wine glass and studied it as if she might will more liquid to emerge from thin air. Knowing her like I did, I believed she could probably do just that, if she wanted to. “Have you thought any more about my request?”
“What request was that?”
“Coming to the manor house. Seeing my mother. Making amends before—” her voice trailed off. Just talking about visiting the manor house of the northeast coven dropped a brick of lead in my gut, but I couldn’t let her know that. I had a very complicated relationship with the coven and the area surrounding it. Considered by many to be a hero, while considered by an equal share of others as the worst sort of betrayer. There was no in-between, at least not in my experience.
“Are your brother and sister going to be there?”
“Of course. She’s their mother, too.”
I exhaled and leaned forward, resting my arms across my bent legs, studying the architecture of the new coffee table— purchased from a local second-hand store for about thirty-five dollars and looked every last cent of it.
“This is one of those moments, Gus— one of those moments where you make a choice. A choice you could potentially regret for the rest of your long life.”
“No argument there. The question is, which choice is the one I’ll regret more?”
I saw the flex of her jaw and though I meant the comment as a joke, I could see by her reaction that she saw it as nothing of the sort. Much to my own surprise, I felt a stab of regret at saying it. “I’m sorry, Loren. I didn’t mean—”
“It might not mean much to you these days,” she snapped back, “but I treasure our marriage. The time we had together. It was important to me— you were an extension of my family, and I would think you’d have the same respect for me that I have for you.”
“Of course I do. I just— I don’t know how to explain it, but— what happened between you and me was one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me, and I’ve got five hundred years of bad things clattering around inside my head.”
“Do you think you’re alone in that? Do you think it was just water spilling off my back?”
“That’s not what I said, Loren, I just—”
“What? Something’s on your mind, Gus, I can tell.”
“You got married,” I spat, the words slicing through my lips too quickly for me to take back.
She drew her head back, studying me.
“Again,” I continued. “You got married again after we split. Three times, right?”
Her brow furrowed and I could see her tongue moving over her teeth from beneath tightly pressed lips. A radiant heat seemed to emanate from her, her fists closed so tightly her fingernails could have drawn blood.
“And you think because I got married again, that somehow lessens our marriage?”
“You moved on. I— didn’t.”
“I had little choice, Gus. In those days women—” she closed her eyes and I could tell she was desperately trying to keep herself composed. “Women were not allowed the freedom back then that they are now. If I was to live my life, it was fully expected that I do so with a man by my side. I’m happy for you that you weren’t forced into the same circumstances. But just because I married again— just because I had more children— that doesn’t somehow reduce what you meant to me.”
The sheer weight of what she was saying settled upon my shoulders as she spoke those words, and I could almost feel gravity itself increasing around me. She’d had children. I knew this, of course, or I’d heard it at least, through the grapevine, but until she’d said it with her own words, the full impact of it hadn’t really crossed my mind.
To my knowledge, her relationships had all been with human men— and thus, her children were likely, at least mostly, human children. Which meant, most likely— she’d outlived them all. Her husbands, her kids, every family she’d ever known beyond the coven. Of course, there were exceptions. My father was an elf and my mother was a human and somehow— I ended up with his longevity— but many would have said I was an outlier, not the standard. The questions bubbled to my lips, but I kept them back, closing the dam for once, holding back the flood of inquiry.
“Before you feel the need to ask,” she continued, “yes, they have all— passed on. My three husbands.” She cleared her throat. “My nine children.” She swallowed. “I watched each of them grow old, feeble, and eventually die— not a single one of them truly understanding why I didn’t.”
“Loren, I’m—”
She held up a hand, her head shaking. “I don’t want your pity, Gus. It’s the risk we take.” Her eyes landed on mine. “Well— the risk some of us take.”
I felt the barb of those words go straight into my heart— though I couldn’t muster up the courage to argue the point. After all, she was right. For every long year since we’d separated, I’d had my own share of opportunities to forge other relationships, to start other families— to foster other friendships. And I’d let them all go, preferring the short-term pain of a severed relationship over the long term pain of watching them slowly wilt away and die as I stayed vibrant and young.
“I can tell just by looking at you,” she continued, her voice steadying, “that you already have several lifetimes of regrets. Opportunities lost— paths not taken, all for the sanctity of your own perceived emotional well-being.”
I cleared my throat, finding it uncharacteristically difficult to speak.
“Take this one chance, Gus. This one opportunity to do the right thing— and I’ll leave you to your life. You’ll never see me again— never have to be tempted by my presence.”
“I—” my lips parted and I started to reply, started to tell her I didn’t mind being tempted by her presence. Started to tell her that the real reason I’d been forgoing relationships since our separation is that I was waiting for her to come back. Waiting for her to return to me, because I was far too afraid to go to her. And now she was here, she was sitting right on the couch next to me, and I was going to flush this opportunity right down the proverbial crapper.
“Okay,” I finally said, nodding. “Okay. I’ll go.”
She smiled a soft, thin smile and reached over, her hand pressing mine to my knee, squeezing gently. “Thank you, Angus. It will mean the world to my mother. It— it means the world to me.”
I nodded and she stood, sweeping away toward my bedroom so she could get ready.