Path of the Vampire forum

Micah didn’t look up as Jesse pulled out a chair and sat down. He wished that he had had more time with his mother. There were so many questions that he wanted to ask her starting with the relationship she had had with Lily. What had happened between them that caused it to deteriorate in such a way? Casting a glance to the unopened boxes he wondered if the answers that he sought were in there. Maybe she’d kept a journal. It was worth a try and maybe it was just going to be a dead end. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

He had a sinking suspicion that the deterioration of the relationship between the sisters had something to do with his father. Another person that Savannah had never mentioned to him. Ever. Micah had asked once. He’d been about five and he’d come in from school, asking her why he didn’t have one when the rest of his friends did. His mother hadn’t answered him. She’d just stared off into the distance and left the room leaving him standing there confused. No he’d never asked about his father again.

“You wouldn’t have wanted me at your birthday parties dude.” He folded his hands on the table in front of him and turned his head to look at Jesse. He was amused by the very notion. Now that it was out there in the open the shock was starting to wear off and he felt like he could go back to being that same snarky dick that Jesse was used to dealing with. “I would have stolen your **** and shoved your face in the dirt. I didn’t play well with others when I was a kid. Drove my mother nuts.” Honestly, that really hadn’t changed over the years. Still the same selfish asshole, always would be.

Micah grabbed the stack of photos he had placed off to the side and sorted through them, picking out about a half a dozen. Putting them in a neat stack he pushed them over to Jesse. “Here.” That stack contained single pictures of Jesse’s mother. Micah didn’t need them, he hadn’t known her but Jesse had so the right thing to do was to give them to the younger man. The killer didn’t know if Jesse had anything of his mother to remember her by but now he did. Just in case.

I laugh and shake my head.

”It’s uncanny, really,” I say, even as Micah hands me the photographs. At first I wonder why he has handed them to me, but then I realise; they are all photographs of my mother. I shake my head and drop the photographs onto the table, pushing them away. If Micah doesn’t want them, that’s fine. If I keep them, they’ll probably just go into the fire. I can imagine it, now. I even want to take them, just so that I can start a miniature inferno, somewhere, just to watch the edges of the photographs blacken and curl.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch movement, on the floor; a flash of black and yellow. That damned Salamander—I’ve started calling him Mandy. I’ve noticed a trend. It’s whenever I start thinking about fire that the creature shows up. Out of nowhere, seemingly, as if it’s always following me around, just out of sight. I have no idea what it is, or why it’s there. But it hasn’t done me any harm, and I seem to have grown quite fond of the strange little thing. I lean over and lay my palm flat on the ground; the Salamander crawled onto my hand, and begins the climb up my arm, settling neatly into its little niche on my shoulder. I offer Micah a shrug, as regards to Mandy. I then gesture to the photographs he’d been kind enough to give me.

”I was much the same – didn’t play well with others. My mother didn’t give a ****, though. I don’t think she even noticed,” I explain. ”You seem to have had a good relationship with your mother. Mine sort of… she didn’t stay like this,” I say, again gesturing to the photos. She’s happy in all of them. She looks like a stranger to me; some fairy godmother who was taken away from me and replaced by a troll.

”Dad died, see. When I was six or seven. Mum kind of… deteriorated. Became a shell of what she used to be. Turned to alcohol and drugs. She was never the same. She’s still around, somewhere. I don’t keep in touch. Haven’t, for probably going on six years,” I say with a shrug. It should be a cause for grief, but it’s a loss I’ve had a long time to get used to. I’m not sure I want to keep the photos of her from when she was younger; from when I loved her, and I knew without a doubt that she loved me. In the end, I think I was just a reminder to her of everything she had lost, and she’d prefer never to see me again.

Part of him wasn’t all that surprised that the pictures returned to the table. Jesse didn’t have to take them. If he didn’t want them Micah would just put them back where he found them, leaving them to be forgotten with the rest. Knowing what he knew now there were probably more of them. Just from looking at those pictures Micah figured that his mother had had a good relationship with her sister, but there was this burning curiosity inside of him that wanted to know what happened and where it all went wrong.

Speaking of burning curiosity Micah really wanted to know what the hell was up with that damn lizard. It wasn’t the first time that he had seen the little black and yellow thing that seemed to have taken a liking to the necromancer. It looked quite content to be resting comfortably on Jesse’s shoulder. Was that even normal? He almost asked. Almost. But at the last second he thought better of himself and didn’t. Jesse didn’t seem to mind it so who was he to judge?

As Jesse started to speak Micah began to understand his reluctance to take those pictures. “I did. She was an amazing woman. Worked her *** off for years just so I could live a happy, comfortable life.” It made him uncomfortable to talk about her but if anyone deserved to know it was Jesse. Savannah had been his aunt so he should know just how amazing she had been. “Being a single parent was hard but she never complained. And I gave her a hard time. But I guess that’s how teenagers are supposed to be. When we found out she was sick and that it was too late to do anything I tried to be better.” He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

It was odd, hearing Jesse talk about his own mother. The situations were almost the same but instead it was Jesse’s mother that had fallen into a tailspin and lost her way. Grief was powerful and many people would do whatever they could to deal with the pain of it. Micah had rebelled in the only way he had known how. At 15 he’d almost been an adult. Instead of sticking around he’d left town and spit on every single value and belief Savannah had instilled within him. He was ashamed of that now, but had he done things differently he probably never would have came to the city, and he never would have met Vel. Though he liked to believe he would have found her eventually. Told her that all time and she believed it as much as he did.

What was he supposed to say to that? An Im sorry just seemed lame and completely insincere. Jesse wasn’t looking for sympathy or apologies, he was just telling it how it was and that was something that Micah could respect. Since he didn’t know what to say he just sat and listened quietly, giving Jesse the chance to get it all off his chest.

The way Micah explains his relationship with his mother, or the kind of woman that she was, is something that I don’t have any experience with. I wonder in silence for a few seconds; what might it have been like, to have been loved and nurtured? To feel bad about acting out? Perhaps there are reasons why I am the person that I am. Why, even if I love someone, I find it hard to show it. Why, when someone comes looking for a little nurturing, I can’t really give it. It’s not within my skillset. It’s not something I could learn by experience. Not something I was ever taught.

It could hurt me, this conversation. I could compare my mother to Micah’s. I could wonder why two sisters should be so different. I could crave a past that I cannot have, and lament the fact that I was wronged, somehow. But I don’t. I have long since given up on my mother and accepted that my past is part and parcel of who I am today. I don’t particularly want to be anyone different. I like who I am, so I take the good with the bad. I lift my eyes from the photographs and focus on Micah. I cant my head to the side. He has lapsed into silence, and it’s somewhat awkward. I don’t talk about my mother much, if ever. Grey doesn’t even know the full extent of my past – it’s never come up, and it’s not something everyone needs to know. But now that we’re on the topic, it seems too important to just brush aside. I clear my throat and lean back in the chair.

”I never had a reason to try to be better,” I say. I give my shoulders a languid shrug. For a moment or three I find the roof over Micah’s head terribly interesting, narrowing my eyes at nothing in particular. ”Maybe just some innate desire to find some kind of stability, I suppose. I had my art and knew I couldn’t do anything with it unless I… got better. So if I did have a reason to get better, it was a selfish one,” I say, finally rolling my eyes back around to… well, the man I should now start to consider a cousin, rather than just a mentor. A cousin. I laugh. I still can’t really wrap my head around it.

”It’s funny, how life seems to throw us these curve balls, but they all seem to lead a very specific target,” I say, ponderously. To think, if any of it had been different, any tiny little thing, how changed life would be now. It’s uncanny.

He wasn’t phased by the laugh that came from Jesse. The situation that they were in now and the result was rather unbelievable. Curveballs. Yeah life had definitely thrown him quite a few in the three years that he had been in the city. It seemed so long ago that Nick Bowstrong had found him down in the sewers and made him what he was now. Micah was quite sure that Nick probably had never expected him to amount to much of anything but he had and it gave him a rather large sense of satisfaction when he thought of it.

Family was something that Micah had always wanted. Growing up an only child had been lonely and while he had had a good childhood, something had always seemed to be missing. He would have given anything to have more family around him, but then again if he had he probably never would have found his way to where he was.

Finding Zoey had been amazing. Micah loved that girl with everything he had and then some. He never regretted changing her but sometimes he often wondered if he had known who Zoey was, would he have made the same choice? He’d like to say yes but she’d been so young. He hadn’t given her a choice and had ripped her away from everything that she knew. Though she’d adjusted well and had come a long way, growing from a shy, timid little thing afraid of her own shadow and turning into the independant woman she currently was. And she was just a small piece of what had been missing.

When he met Vel he’d been days away from the Shadow Realm. He’d grown tired and disillusioned and really didn’t see much point in sticking around. He wasn’t in a very good place, no matter that he had people that would have cared had he chosen to go. She’d called him, asking for his assistance in taking down the Broussards. Micah had been hesitant at first but had eventually told her yes. And after that was over she’d invited him to Tytonidae. Again he hesitated, making her wait a month before he got back to her with his answer. Vel had quickly become his best friend after they’d bonded over music. When he realized what was happening he’d tried to ignore it. She wasn’t available and in his eyes she was out of his league. In the end though, he hadn’t been able to stop it and entering into the eternal bond with her had been the one thing he had absolutely no reservations about. No regrets, not now, and there never would be.

And now there was Jesse. Micah eyed the young necromancer thoughtfully, obviously curious about his past but he wouldn’t ask. There was just something in Jesse’s voice that told him trying to pry and ask for details wouldn’t be a good thing to do. It really wasn’t his business anyways but he couldn’t help but be curious about it. Best thing to do was let it go.

“Funny how that works isn’t it?” He shrugged but didn’t really expect an answer. “One good thing about this? I can shoot you and call you a fuckin punk any time I want and not feel guilty about it. Cause that’s the kind of **** family does, yeah?”

The smile that curls my lips vanquishes the gleam of frustration from my eyes. The memories of the past had clouded my mind, dulling brightness of this new discovery. Recalling my childhood only summons frustration, hurt, and anger. There’s to be no more talk of the past, however, and for that I am grateful. To talk about it is like pulling daggers from my inners, one at a time, and twisting them as they come out. As masochistic as I might sometimes be, that’s a kind of pain that I won’t put myself through – more because the lashing wounds are lasting. But that’s the way with mental wounds, isn’t it? They don’t ever really heal. They don’t close up immediately, like our physical wounds do. Limbs lopped off of the soul don’t grow back overnight. Not even over a week. Years, it takes. And even then, sometimes years aren’t enough.

Micah’s teasing quip lifts the daggers pain-free, however. Lifts them, or buries them, it doesn’t really matter. I can feel the weight lift from my mind as I grin at him, shifting a little in my seat as I regain a sense of vitality. I shake my head.

“I’ll have to just believe you,” I say. “I don’t know the kind of **** that family does,” I add. There’s a brief storm that gathers; my tongue curls, teeth almost bared as the words nearly slip out. Do they periodically throw nephews off rooftops? No, I suppose that’s not how real families work. Not if it means real death. The way Micah says it, I assume he means it in jest; that he could shoot because he knows it’s a mere scratch. That he could call me names because, as family, we will rebound. Brush it off. Just as I brush off that last lingering memory – of Jordan’s eyes as he realises what’s happened, as his fingers stretch toward heaven, as the wind whips the fabric of his shirt, as his body plummets to the asphalt.

“You say that as if you immediately have the authority… cousin,” I say. “But I think we’re equal now, yeah? You shoot me and I’ll shoot you back and we’ll be sweet,” I say. Of course, I know in a way we are not equal. In faction terms, Micah is still the elder; he is still the elder regardless of faction or bloodline. He has been in this life longer than I have, and he knows more. He does have the authority in so many ways. But as long as we’re teasing, as long as we’re going to keep to this cousin lark, we will have equal footing, in the insubstantial things.

Having the pictures out had him feeling a little raw around the edge, for lack of better description. Seeing his mother after so much time still stung and he refused to let the memories pull him under and drown him. It was time to put them away and let Bunny put them if a safe place where they wouldn’t be harmed. Maybe one night he could look at them without feeling the way he did now but tonight just wasnt that night. Silently he gathered the envelopes and tucked them neatly back into the box that he had taken them out of, including the ones that he had offered Jesse. If the male wanted them at a later time then he could ask and Micah would willingly hand them over.

“You don’t have to believe me.” His tone was slightly flat, emotionless. There was no way he was going to reveal any more emotion. He felt too exposed as it was and it was making him uncomfortable. Talking about Savannah did that, and the only one who he trusted enough to see him so vulnerable was his wife. He rubbed his chest as if soothing a phantom ache. There was nothing there of course but it hit him that she was the only one he wanted to be with right then. “Depends on the family. Humans of course would never see it like I do now. In my family if you get shot then consider yourself in my good graces. That’s how I show my love and appreciation.” The last few words came out sarcastic as he slammed the lid down onto the box.

“Sure. Equals. Whatever floats your boat cousin.” The word sounded strange to his ears as it rolled off his tongue. Cousin. Who would have ever thought that he’d find another blood connection? He sure as hell didn’t. Micah wasn’t objecting to it but it was going to take some getting used to. Hopefully in time it would come easier and he wouldn’t always feel so awkward about it. “I’m just going to go put these away and find my wife. You can let yourself out when you’re ready. Ain’t kicking you out so take your time.” He grabbed the box and offered a tight smile. “Have a good night Jesse.” With those words he headed up the stairs into the bedroom and placed the box beside the bed. Once it was secure he used his tome and left through the fadeportal. He needed some time to think.

I slump in the chair.

The sound of Micah’s footsteps disappear. He’s gone to find his wife, and I feel like, perhaps, I should do the same. Well, she’s not my wife, but she is, for all intents and purposes, my other half. The woman to whom I have given my love, for better or for worse. I give a small laugh. The reason why I had come up here to begin with – I’d come to tell Micah about Grey, but in all that had passed, I hadn’t mentioned a word. I look up, at the space that Micah had left behind. Through the door that he had disappeared through. I could call him back, but I don’t.

There’s something about the way he left, about the heaviness to his tone, the flatness of it, which suggested he wasn’t, and still isn’t in the mood for company. He’ll find out, sooner or later, I guess.

I know I’ll move. But for the moment I am content to just sit there. To try to calm the swirling storm of my thoughts; to try to come to terms with what I have just learned. To let my brain consume, to let it decipher, and pull all the pieces together to try to create some kind of whole. I always knew there were things missing from my life, people who I didn’t know, but I never dwelled on it. It never seemed to matter. But now it matters quite a lot.

I don’t know how long I sit there, just staring into space. In the end I stir with the new facts settled and at home in my mind. I have a cousin. An honest-to-god cousin. And somehow the threads of the world have aligned to bring us together, in this family. This bloodline. Andras, Tytonidae, all of it. I can’t help but think it was all meant to happen this way. Too much of a damned coincidence, right?

Strangely, all this thinking about fate and coincidence and threads being tugged and pulled into alignment has me wanting to find only one person. Grey. And so I quietly leave the way that I came, and I go in search of my Dove.