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Talia has no idea what she’s doing. The speedometer ticks upwards slowly, her heart racing along with every dip and curve in the road.
Theo whimpers in the passenger seat, a quiet, pained noise that makes Talia’s heart twist in her chest. She reaches one hand over, sliding her fingers firmly against his and entwining their hands, squeezing gently. “I’m here.” She breathes, her voice ghosting along the air and still, somehow, disturbing the unbreakable silence in the car. “I’m here.” She repeats because it’s true, because she means it. Means it more than anything in her life.
Theo squeezes her hand, harder than he meant to judging by the slight pain that shifts beneath her skin. If Talia were a different person she would pull away, but as it is she just holds tighter.
The Fairmont estate lays ahead, lights bright and open like an invitation. Talia swallows roughly, her heart cracking inside her chest. Her lungs ache like she’s swallowed glass, and she doesn’t know how she’s been breathing this whole night. She thinks she stopped the moment she saw her baby boy chained to the wall, and she doesn’t know when she started to breathe again. Doesn’t know if she really has or if this is some sort of death illusion. A purgatory of sorts for killing all of those other monsters.
All of those people had families at one point. They had all been children once, just like her Theo. She feels sick at the thought, nausea rising in the back of her throat.
“Mom?” Theo whispers, the words torn from his throat. He sounds gravelly and sick, the singular word dying on his tongue. He clears his throat before trying again, his voice low and timid. “Mom? We’re here.”
Talia breathes in slowly, forcing her lungs to expand with air before she exhales sharply, the air whooshing out of her. “Yeah, Theo,” she says, staring blankly at the door. “We’re here.” She takes a moment to regard the front door, the porch light overhead emitting a soft, glowing yellow.
It looks so normal yet extravagant. Nobody would look out at this house and think vampire, but the hairs on the back of Talia’s neck prickle the longer she looks. There’s something decaying about this house, as if it was frozen in time, but sick as a dog when it happened.
She can’t help but feel as if something terrible is going to happen here, but her pulse thuds loud and slow in her ears, and Theo’s gaze is now caught on the long expanse of her jugular so she has no choice but to swallow her worries and her fears and get out of the damn car.
The car door shuts with a loud thud, the sound echoing in the neighborhood for split second before it all falls silent save for the crickets chirping in the grass. Street lamps glow in the distance, a distorted shade of orange that reminds Talia of Tennessee. The damp heat of the night doesn’t shake the nostalgia.
She pulls her phone out, sending a quick text that reads We’re here before she walks to the passenger side. Theo practically falls out of the car into her arms, shivering as if the devil has crawled right into his skin.
Well, Talia thinks. He might as well have.
Talia soothes him, low shushing noises breaking from the back of her throat. Soft and gentle sounds as she rubs his back in small circles. She runs one hand up his spine and neck to rest at the base of his skull where she gently cards her fingers through the little hairs there. The other hand stays in the space between his shoulder blades, rubbing circles in one long, smooth gesture. They stay like that for a moment, just Talia and Theo swaying slowly together. She doesn’t know how long it lasts. All she knows in this moment is the clamminess of his skin, how it touches hers, and how her heart aches so bad it’s like it’s being torn in two.
All she knows is this: this is a hurt she cannot heal him of, and that kills her. It’s like she herself has been staked, over and over again. There’s a splinter in the center of her chest that she can’t quite reach, and the more she tried, the more it digs in.
They are suspended in time, a frozen picture of grief and devastation and love. So much love it spills out from them in waves.
Finally, Theo’s shivering subsides enough that they can stumble towards the door, his arm wrapped around her waist as he leans heavily into her side, her arm thrown around his shoulder to keep him as close as possible for as long as she can.
As they approach the door, it swings open to reveal the hallway, light spilling out towards Talia and Theo and in towards Margot Fairmont. Delightful, vampiric Margot Fairmont. Talia tenses at the sight of her before she forced herself to relax, aware of how her emotions must be reflecting onto Theo. Theo, who looks like he wants to run. Theo, who needs the safety and protection a Legacy vampire can offer him. Theo, who was remade by a Fairmont and now must suffer the consequence of their company.
Margot brushes her long, silvery hair to the side, smiling faintly at them. She ushers them inside, gently shutting the door behind them. Theo refuses to unwrap himself from Talia’s side, a gift that she won’t refute. She hugs him tighter, holds him closer.
Her baby boy. Her son. One of the brightest lights in her life. He was snuffed too soon, but still he is gleaming in front of her. His hands may be cold but they can still hold and heal and hunt.
If you had asked Talia a day ago if she’d rather see her son in a casket or in fangs, she would have said a casket. Now, she sees her boy, his sad eyes and the wrinkle his nose gets when he’s in pain, and she thinks she’d rather have a monster than not have him.
But the tremble of his arms and the broken whimpers he had made in the car tell her one thing: her boy has not and never will be a monster.
She doesn’t think him capable.
With Margot Fairmont standing before them, she thinks maybe there’s a chance. A sliver of monstrosity that has yet to be unearthed.
Margot holds one hand out, her face kind and open. There’s a wiseness in her eyes, a surety that Talia is envious of. She will be a pillar in this storm, Talia’s sure of it, but she wishes it could be her. She’s been with Theo through almost everything, but she can’t be there for this.
After a moment, Theo reaches out, taking her hand in his. Margot gently, insistently pulls him closer, and Theo goes, his hand falling away as he drifts towards her. It’s almost like she has a gravitational pull.
“You might not want to watch this.” Margot murmurs, her voice soft. Talia blinks, confused, until Margot guides Theo’s mouth to her wrist and urges him to bite. Theo lingers for a moment before giving in, fangs elongating and sinking into the pale skin of Margot’s arm.
Theo drinks noisily, desperate, grateful noises spilling from the back of his throat. He clings to her arm, his fingers sinking into the skin there. Talia’s stomach twists sharply at the sounds, but her gaze is torn from Theo. All of her attention is on Margot. Margot who pets his head with her free hand, making soft, soothing sounds almost identical to the ones Talia made outside. Her expression, usually open and sunny, is clouded and distant. Her jaw clenches slightly with every pull of blood. She’s watching Talia, her usually light eyes dark as she meets her gaze steadily. It’s almost as if she’s daring her to look away, to hide from what her son now is. Who he is now.
Talia doesn’t. She steps forward, placing a gentle hand on Theo’s back. She strokes his back with her thumb, small, comforting circles that make Theo hum.
After a long moment, Margot twists her arm away, tutting at Theo when he dips his head down after her. “That’s enough for now, Theo. It’s time to rest.” Theo swallows hard, nodding slightly as he straightens up. “Upstairs, the first door to your right. My husband will be waiting to help you get cleaned up and settled in.”
Theo starts to leave but he pauses by the staircase. There’s blood on his chin, slick and shiny against his skin. Talia wants to wipe it away just like she used to when he was a child and would get marinara sauce anywhere and everywhere he could. “Thank you.” He says to Margot, but he’s looking right at Talia.
Thank you for saving me. He’s saying to Talia. Thank you for believing I’m still me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for still loving me. Thank you for always loving me.
“Of course, sweetheart. You’re family now.” Margot says. Talia frowns at that, a sharp, visceral discomfort taking root in her stomach at the thought of this woman laying claim to her son. Talia bites down on her tongue, her tension fading the longer she watches her boy loiter by the staircase, tears gleaming in his brown eyes. In a second she’s moving forward, and Theo is rushing to meet her. They collide in a messy hug, Theo giving her a bone crushing hug and Talia meeting it with every ounce of her own strength.
“I love you.” He murmurs against her shoulder.
He’s probably getting blood all over her shirt, but Talia can’t bring herself to care. “I love you too. So much. Forever, okay?” Talia pulls away slightly, cupping his face in her hands. “You’re my son. You’re my son. Nothing could ever change that, alright? Nothing.”
Theo nods, tears spilling from his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. Talia kisses his forehead once, twice, before nudging him towards the stairs. “Now go get cleaned up.” She urges him, something settling into place in her chest when he huffs out a laugh and obeys her, trudging up the stairs.
“You still love him.” Margot’s voice calls inquisitively from behind. Talia stills, her spine stiff. “Even though he’s a monster?”
Talia spins on her heel, disgust burning in her gut at the amused gleam in Margot’s eyes. Hatred festers in her heart at the slight smile on her pale pink lips, the upturn of her lips and the quirk of amusement that Talia sees as clear as day. “He’s not a monster. He never could be.”
“But he’s a vampire now.” Margot presses.
“He’s not like you.” Talia hisses.
Margot laughs, the sound bitter and sharp. Talia’s never heard her laugh like that, like she’s not on some radio show acting like the perfect hostess. It’s like she’s flipped a switch, and this is who Margot is behind doors. A little sweet, a little sour. Compassionate, but cruel. If she were someone else, Talia might dare to call her fascinating. “Has anyone ever told you not to make an enemy out of someone doing you a favor, Talia?”
The way Margot says her name makes Talia shiver. It’s like Margot is delighted just to wrap her name around the syllables, how they slide off her tongue with ease. “This isn’t a favor. No, this is just you making us even.”
Surprise sparks to life in Margot’s eyes. “Oh?”
“For Oliver.” Talia says. “A son for a son.”
Margot considers her for a moment before she smiles, ear to ear. She looks like a cat who just got the biggest canary she’s ever seen. “A son for a son.” She agrees.
Talia dips her head slightly before heading towards the door. “If that’s all—“
“Aren’t you curious?” Margot asks.
Talia stops in her tracks, reluctantly crossing to Margot and standing just a breath apart from her. “About?”
“What it’s like to feed?” Margot whispers, as if it’s a secret just the two of them are in on. Talia’s heart leaps to her throat, her gaze instinctively drifting down the column of Margot’s throat. Her long neck and the smooth skin that Talia can easily imagine bruising. Down farther from her shoulder to her arm, her wrist hidden from view. Talia wonders if her wrist still has puncture wounds from Theo’s fangs or if those have already faded away.
Talia lifts her head, ignoring Margot’s knowing look. “No.” She lies, striding towards the door.
Margot laughs behind her, the sound soft and quiet, but it rings through Talia’s ears all the same. “If you ever get curious, you know where to find me.” Margot tells her.
“I won’t.” Talia denies before she dips out the door, hearing it click into place behind her. She walks steadily towards her car, not wasting a second before she’s on autopilot, clicking her seat belt on and reversing out of the driveway.
It’s not until she’s miles away that she lets herself wonder, one hand automatically lifting to check her throat for bite marks.
She’s not sure if it’s disappointment or relief at the sparseness she finds there.