“You don’t open that door,” he told her.
He didn’t say anything else to her for three days.
Every night, he set out to hunt and returned with a small animal. He shucked its skin in silence, cleaned its meat, and cooked for only Valeria to eat. Rain fell on the forth night. The roof sagged, and vermin and insects fell from it to the dirt floor below. Though the beds were made from straw and ridden with lice and fleas, neither attempted to bother Valeria or Henry. Even the rats stayed away.
Why had Henry left his comfortable life with his father for this?
That night, Henry arrived home from his hunt with a live rabbit. He sat across from Valeria and locked his gaze on hers. Her stomach clenched, and she leaned back. Henry’s fangs descended, and he bit into the animal’s flesh and drank.
Valeria gasped.
“I didn’t ask for this,” he said in a low, gruff voice.
She softened. “I know.”
“And you?”
Valeria swallowed, looking down at her hands.
“I saw you,” he said, “shortly after my father brought you to us. You were a bird, and then you were standing naked in the service quarters.”
She bit her lip. “You didn’t say anything.”
“Would you prefer I had?”
Henry told Valeria how, coming home from a pub one night, he had been bitten and drained, left for dead. He sensed his maker out there somewhere, but could not find him. He found other Cruor and learned as much as possible before returning for her.
In the late 1600s, they learned of the new supernatural law—the law that the races were not to mix. But they were already pregnant with Charles and so were forced into hiding. Even today they stayed as far as possible from society—supernatural and otherwise—hoping that would provide Charles the opportunity to live without fear of persecution.
...
“WE WERE ON OUR OWN after that,” Valeria said, “but I think that was the least alone we’d ever felt.”
“I still don’t understand how you carried a child,” I said. “I thought the Cruor can’t have children.”
“They can’t,” Valeria said, “but as I am Strigoi, it is of no concern. So long as I didn’t shift, my womb and the child could grow.”
“Charles explained the Strigoi age if they don’t shift, but this isn’t true for him.”
Valeria pressed her lips together. “Charles and—” Valeria covered her mouth and coughed quietly. “Charles aged like any normal child would…the way a Strigoi would. At nineteen, he gained the ability to shift. But even without shifting, he’d stopped aging. We realized then his Cruor heritage ran deeper than we’d thought, more than merely his need for blood. Charles will never age beyond nineteen.”
Nineteen? He certainly looked older. Technically, he was older. I couldn’t let the revelation rattle me. He was too old for me, he was too young for me…either way, all that mattered was the opportunity for us to age together.
“What if he could grow older?” I asked.
Valeria beamed. “Ah, yes! He asked us about this, and he has our blessing. Believe me, anything for love.”
He’d talked to his parents about this? I couldn’t contain the small bubble of hope that stirred within me.
“I think we’ve chatted enough,” Charles cut in. His voice had a steely edge, and he didn’t wait for a reaction before continuing. “Sophia is the descendant of a spirit elemental. We should focus our energies on discussing that instead.”
The change of subject was so sudden that even I was shaken by his statement. Valeria’s eyebrows arched, and Henry’s face gave a flicker of expression—concern, perhaps?
“Is this true?” Valeria asked.
“Yes.” I looked hesitantly to Charles. “I also hear people’s thoughts. Like you and your husband.”
“Well, that is something of a dilemma.” She sipped her tea and then set her cup aside. “But only because you think it to be, Sophia.”
“What do you mean?”
“Might you be able to tap into human thoughts as well?”
I bit my lip, considering. “I don’t believe so.”
“Clairaudience, then,” she said. “Not as odd as you might think.” She placed a hand over mine. “The thoughts of mortals and immortals are anchored in separate realms in order to protect elementals from mortal telepaths. However,” she continued, “clairaudients like yourself can bridge over to access the thoughts of immortals. It’s believed to be a common gift among witches and their descendants, since they are both supernatural as well as mortal.”