33

33
LUCIEN'S POV

“Daddy, can I get a piggyback ride? My legs are getting tired."

Linda's demand came in the midst of making our way through another dark hallway of the vampire palace, and I felt like a soldier asked to perform ballet. A piggyback ride. The simplest, most normal thing for a father to do and I still didn’t know how to do it right.

“Sure,” I replied in a voice whose attempt at confidence belied my whirring mind, which began to tick through logistics. How was it possible to put a child on one’s back and keep an eye out for battle without exposing the kid?

Laura read my expression and her lips twitched with barely controlled laughter. "Kneel down, let her mount and hold her legs. It's not advanced military strategy."

I gave her a look that promised retribution later, and crouched low, so that Linda could clamber onto my back. Her little arms clung to my neck with naive enthusiasm and something in my chest constricted as if out of pain at the careless affection of it.

"Hold on, little star," I added as I stood and corrected my grip on her legs.

"You're really tall, Daddy! I can just see everything from up here!” It was worth all the awkwardness to hear her happy voice. “Ooh, look at all that sparkly stuff on the wall!”

I looked to where she was pointing, or rather at what she had identified as “pretty sparkly things” and my blood ran cold. This portion of tunnel was lined with vampire spy sensors, cunningly disguised as decorative crystals.

“Those are lovely,” Laura said fluidly, catching my eye and shooting me a warning look, “but we must be getting on, darling.”

"But I want to look at them! They're so shiny!"

This was what parenthood must be like —weighing a child's natural curiosity against immediate threats to their safety, and acting as if magical surveillance gadgets were anything better than interesting wall ornaments.

“We’ll get you even prettier crystals when we get home,” I assured, making a mental note to research age-appropriate gem stones. Did five-year-olds like diamonds? Was there a child-friendly equivalent of jewelry panning?

"Really? What colors?"

"Any colors you want."
"Even purple and gold together?"

"Especially purple and gold together."

There was a sound from Laura — it could have been a laugh or a cough. "You're going to spoil her."

"She's my daughter. It’s my job to spoil her.”

“Because your job description also involves teaching her about reasonable expectations and financial responsibility.

"She's five, Laura. Well, we can keep economics for later and let’s talk about the sparkly crystals time.”

“The ‘sparkly crystals phase’ turns into the ‘I need a car for my sixteenth birthday’ phase before you know it.”

Linda laughed at our arguing, her tiny hands patting my shoulders as if the alignment of my hair was a very big dog for which she wanted to show affection. “You sound just like Tommy’s parents when they fight about his allowance.”

“We’re not arguing,” Laura and I said in unison, and then we faced each other with the same look of parental refute.

“You’re definitely fighting,” Linda said with the total honesty of kids. "But it's okay. Sometimes people who love each other argue over small things because they are too afraid to be speaking about larger, far scarier things,” Miss Sarah said.

Her observation was so wise that I stumbled momentarily, and Laura’s audible gasp indicated it had stuck her too
“Your teacher is very clever,” Laura said finally.

“She reads a ton of books about ‘what do my feelings mean?’ ” Linda said. “She claims that knowing what feelings are is important for being a good person.”

We pressed on through the tubes, Linda idly pointing to this and that as particularly interesting via Laura and I doing our complex dance of co-parenting under duress. It was bizarre how effortlessly we felt into a rhythm – Laura answering Linda’s questions and attending to Linda’s emotional needs, while I took care of our physical safety, both of us filling in the gaps as if we were long-lost parts of one another.

“Daddy, why don’t you live with us?” Linda piped up all of the sudden, hitting my funny bone like a tactical missile.
"That's... complicated, sweetheart."

"Grown-ups always say that. But I think it's simple. If you love Mommy and Mommy loves you, and we both love me, then we should all live together. That's what families do."

“Sometimes families are not the way you see them on TV,” Laura said softly. “Some mommies and daddies love their kids very much but they need to live in different houses.”

"But why?"

“Because,” I said carefully, searching for words that would explain to a 5 year old, “grown-ups can make mistakes and hurt each other sometimes. And even though they love each other, they want to work it through and the only way is by not being around each other.”

“So you’re trying to be friends first? Like I told Mommy?"

Laura rolled a side-eye at me. "You told her about that?"

“I thought that was good advice,” I said.

“You’ve been given good advice,” Laura said softly.

Before I could say anything, Linda froze on my back as though she’d been struck with something in my little system of cares. "Daddy, something bad is coming. And it’s coming, I know it is.”

Her heightened senses had sensed something mine hadn’t already, and the dormant protective instincts I hadn’t experienced for five whole years came roaring to fierce life. I handed over one foot at a time, to take the weight off her as I cradled her down. I moved my hold on Linda's legs, ready to get between her and any threat.

"How many?" I asked, trusting her perception.

"Lots. Maybe ten? And they feel...” She trailed off, trying to find words. “They make me feel old and scary and they’re actually interested in me.”

Laura was already in defensive mode, her alpha power rolling out in waves that caused mine to flare up in response. We had together formed a barrier around our child that was more than its two parts.

Vampires slipped out of the side tunnels with all the grace and synchrony of dancers, granite-carved faces displaying the sort of inhuman reason that came from centuries of predation. But it was the way they looked at Linda — with hunger and calculation and recognition — that made my vision trip red.
“The child is coming with us,” their leader declared. "The Ancient One wants her.

"Over my dead body," was my response and I only half meant it. I meant it literally. They would have to kill me to reach my daughter.

"That can be arranged."

Laura’s power blazed, and I could sense mine coming up to meet it, our combined strengths building into something that even these very old vampires hesitated at. Linda’s tiny arms gripped my neck tighter and I felt her strength, raw and young as it was — powerful enough in our combined resistance.

“You’ll have to get past the two of us,” Laura said with more authority than an Alpha King. “And I tell you, the blood will be more than you can afford to spend.”

The vampires looked at each other again, visibly shifting gears. They thought to have to fight us separately, I dare say looked for us to remain apart. Instead, the found something they never expected: a family bound together by love and desperation and fierce resolve to keep their own safe.

"The will of the Old One is undenied," the chief declared, but I heard doubt in his voice.

"Then let it come and ask my mother for her," I replied. “We are not going to hand our daughter over to messengers.”

But before they could do that, the temperature in the tunnel plummeted and a presence made itself known—something so ancient and powerful that not a single supernatural being standing or lunging in the corridor was left on their feet as it claimed them with its attention.

Except me. I stood, by pure will power alone I kept Linda on my back even as the ancient energy beat at us like a physical force.

A voice that didn't make any sound but communicated with the mind, crowded the room. "I will speak with the child. Bring her to me, or die, all of you.”

My back was now being shaken by Linda, who clutched my shirt so tightly, her hands couldn’t be larger than sparrow wings. Every part of me roared to run, to fight, to do anything other than allow my daughter in the presence of that which disconcerted even the elders among vampires.

But Laura’s gaze reflected mine, above the cowering vampires, and I knew that same impossible calculus was running behind her eyes. And we could refuse, and die defending Linda. Or we could close our eyes and move forward into something neither of us understood — trusting that what we had already given each other was enough, trusting that our daughter was stronger than we knew.
“Linda,” I uttered faintly, “we’re right here with you. But whatever you have in mind, Daddy and Mommy won’t let anything harm you.”

"Promise?" Her voice was so small, so terrified, and it snapped something deep inside me.

“I swear,” I said, not knowing if I could live up to it but making the commitment anyway. “On everything I am, I promise.”