“How come I know what scent I’m wearing, and I can remember purchasing it, but I can’t remember actually smelling it?” She twirled to Lawrence, seeking answers.
“All your knowledge is intact. The memories from your mortal life will seem dull to your sharpened senses. You are having a hard time remembering smelling it because you didn’t smell it as clearly in your mortal life. Human memories are also wrapped in emotion, which you experience differently now. It can be difficult to unwind the feeling from the memory.”
“Am I immortal?”
“Very nearly. A single human isn’t a threat. If you’re to die, it’ll likely be by the hand of another vampire.”
“How?”
“Decapitation, burning, or destruction of your heart.”
Short list. Amaia picked up a porcelain figurine of an exotic bird, admiring how the light danced on its surface. “How many others are there?”
“In the entire world? Thousands. But don’t worry yourself about them. Right now, we need to focus on you, Amaia.” Lawrence rose and placed his hands on her shoulders.
Amaia set down the figurine. “You keep calling me that, but it’s not my name.”
“Yes, it is. When you’re reborn, you’re given a new name. I have named you Amaia. It means the first.”
“The first what?”
“My first child.”
Amaia shook her head. It was strange to hear his voice as if it were her internal thoughts. “Can any vampire get in my mind like that?”
“Goodness, no.” Lawrence sat in the window seat. “I can only do it because I’m your sire. Vampires mind-speak with their makers and their mates, no others.”
While Amaia could see the advantages to such an arrangement, it left her unsettled. “Can you hear all my thoughts?”
“No, I can’t hear any of them. You have to want me to. It’s like speaking, only with your mind. You simply will me to hear what you’re thinking. You may give it a try if you like.” Lawrence’s expression was open and encouraging, just as it always had been when he taught her something new.
Amaia gathered a thought in her mind and tried to push it to Lawrence. “You’ve always been like a father to me.”
The smile on Lawrence’s face spoke to her success. “And you’ve always been like a daughter to me.”
The bond Amaia felt to Lawrence seemed even stronger than the familial closeness they had shared when she was mortal. Fierce loyalty to him surged through her, a desire to please him. There was only one other person to whom she had felt so close.
She ran downstairs to the parlor, forgetting to move slowly. The burst of energy that launched her deflated when she saw the room was as organized and tidy as it ever had been. The man she had been eager to see was nowhere to be found.
“I burned the body along with your dress. It was too soiled to save. First kills are always a messy business. You don’t develop your fangs until your transformation sleep.”
“He was someone to me.”
“Michael? Yes, he was. A pity he was your first kill. When the venom takes hold, you can’t control yourself. It urges you to feed. If you fail to feed by the time it burns off, your transformation won’t be complete, and you’re easily killed. You’re not to blame for killing him. It’s all a case of bad timing on his part.”
Amaia tried to remember. She reached into her dreams and realized that they hadn’t been dreams but flashes of memory.
“I loved him.”
“Yes.”
“But I killed him.”
“You did. I had hoped to wait until you were more accustomed to your condition to bring Michael to you. I had hoped you might ask him to join us.”
Amaia’s mind swirled. Even through the veil shrouding her mortal memories, she knew she had loved Michael even more than she loved Lawrence. Or at least she’d thought so. Her mortal self would have never imagined she was capable of killing him, no matter what Lawrence said. That was just like him, trying to lessen the blow for her sake. Lawrence always watched out for her.
“You’ll need to learn how to look more natural. You’re standing still as stone. Remember, humans don’t have perfect balance. It’ll take near constant thought at first to blend in, but it will eventually become instinct.”
Amaia made note and tried to casually sway her arms. Instead of gentle curves, her arms made sharp, quick angles, resembling a marionette being jerked about by an impatient child.
Lawrence’s laughter rang in her ears. “Don’t think so much. It’ll come. You’re less than an hour into your new life. Here, sit. Relax.”
Lawrence’s wrinkled hand took her smooth one and led her to the same couch they had shared when he had bitten her. She had never noticed all the lines crossing Lawrence’s hands before. She would never age. For eternity, she would retain the skin of a twenty-two year old.
“I told you you’d like it. You never have to worry about aging, about losing the power your appearance gives you.”
“I thought you couldn’t read my thoughts.” Amaia smirked up at him.