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Having a traumatized teenager in the house changed things. Indeed; who could have possibly predicted, right?
It wasn't that Ballister hadn't expected this. But then, he hadn't ever expected to have children at all. He and Ambrosius, obviously, didn't have the necessary equipment to have them on their own, and since they'd dedicated their lives to being monster hunters, adoption seemed completely out of the question. The secrecy, the frequent time away from home…what social worker with even a hint of responsibility would let a child live under those conditions? And it had seemed an even more ludicrous idea when they both turned.
What child would ever want literal monsters for parents?
Apparently, Nimona did. One evening, just before the sun set, found Ballister on the couch in the shade. He heard her approach him even before she entered the living room.
“Hey.”
Ballister looked up at her from the book in his remaining hand and nodded in affirmation. “Evening.”
He could hear her thoughts, a whisper at the edge of his mind. He tried to keep a lid on his telepathic powers; he knew reading someone's mind without their consent was a huge invasion of privacy. This seemed especially true for a troubled teenager somewhere in the LGBTQ label; the last thing he wanted was to lose her trust in that way so soon after she came into his life.
So Ballister waited, silently, exercising patience.
Right then, her hair was down, she was clad in her sleep clothes, and her arms were full with a shark plush from that cheap European furniture store Ambrosius loved so much. That was where he'd taken her to shop for new furnishings for her room. The way he told the tale, she'd scoffed when looking at the bin full of plush toys, bemoaning about how “Yeah, guess it's kind of a stereotype, huh?” when her eyes lingered on one of the stuffed sharks. Ambrosius hadn't missed the longing, though, and had rather insistently added it to their dolly despite Nimona's protests.
In short, she looked vulnerable. “You, uh…you can read minds, right?”
Ballister nodded again. “I can,” he said, taking her up on the invitation. Just this once, he let her thoughts enter his head.
“Then…you know what I want.”
He did, and moved his arm to give her access. “C'mere,” he offered.
The girl was spunky. She'd come into her own these last few months, growing more and more unafraid to take up space or make noise. Right then, though, she made herself as small as possible as she climbed up on top of Ballister and curled up, laying her head on his chest.
“Hope you don’t mind.” Her voice was soft. The only reason he heard her was because of the vampirism that had heightened all his senses. “I know it’s babyish, I’m just…trying to make up for lost time.”
As Ballister raised his hand to start reading again, his arm curled around her. “I didn’t say anything. I’m not making any judgments.” This felt a bit like having a grumpy old cat curl up in your lap, only better. He didn’t want to do or say anything to scare his new daughter off.
"Huh…" The short-cropped, dyed hair tickled Ballister's chin as she turned her head. "You don’t have a heartbeat…”
“Well, I am undead. It isn't as though I need that anymore.” He hoped his skin wasn’t too cold for her; Ambrosius told him he could feel it even under several layers of clothing.
She turned her head and pulled her knees up higher, curling into an even smaller ball.
Ballister gave a slight scoffing laugh, smiling at the warm, comforting weight on his torso, and returned to his book. It only took up a little of his attention; yet again, Nimona's thoughts pawed at the edge of his mind. He tried not to pry; all he could tell was that it was a question.
“Um…hey…”
“Isn't hay for horses?” The light whack he got against his right shoulder was worth it. Here he'd thought he'd never get a chance to use cheesy dad puns; he relished the reaction, unable to keep from smiling.
“I…kinda got a question. Maybe…a sensitive one?”
Balluster didn't need to read her mind to know what the question was. “Go ahead. Ask away.”
She let go of her plush with her left hand and let it linger on his right shoulder. “How'd…this happen?”
“It was only a few years ago.”
“Was that before…?”
“Before I turned, yes. We were in a car accident.”
“Oof. That's rough…”
Ballister couldn't help smirking. “You should've seen the car! Honestly, I came out of it better than that thing.” It occurred to him that, sooner rather than later, he and Ambrosius might be teaching Nimona how to drive. He'd made his peace with the accident, but thinking about his new daughter in such a predicament made him feel like being plunged into ice water.
One thing at a time, he thought to himself. After he took a deep breath, he continued. “Ambrosius was the one driving. Poor man still carries the guilt.”
“Wow...” Nimona pulled her stuffed shark closer to her. “Still, you're alive.” Then she cleared her throat. “I mean…you know what I mean.”
"Right. I know what you mean."
"Honestly, the whole vampire thing seems pretty cool." Nimona sighed, and the air from her mouth left a warm spot on Ballister's chest. "Especially turning into animals. Always thought, if I could have some superpower, that that's what I'd want."
"I see." That didn't surprise Ballister. A thought popped into his head; a mental image of Nimona as a pink cat or red dog. It made him smile. "It is a perk, I must say."
"What's it feel like?"
Ballister thought for a moment. "It's...freeing. The moment before, it's a bit like when you drink soda too fast and the bubbles come out of your nose."
"Ugh. I hate that feeling."
"So you know what a relief it is afterwards."
"Yeah. I do. Is that what it's like, being a cat or dog or bat?"
"Yes. Very much so."
"Mmm..." She yawned. "Metal..."
In the next few minutes, Nimona went limp on top of his torso. The gentle rise and fall of her shoulders told Ballister that she'd just fallen asleep.
When was the last time she'd felt safe enough to sleep so soundly? Ballister wasn't certain, but this felt like a great honor.
A shifting from the corner of Ballister's eye drew his attention. Being careful not to disturb the girl sleeping on him, he carefully turned his head. There was Ambrosius, pretty eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Ballister smiled in his direction.
A smile that faded a bit when Ambrosius took out his phone and held it before him.
He's about to take a picture...
Ballister didn't want to wake Nimona. That was the only reason he didn't say anything before Ambrosius pressed his thumb to the phone screen. Through the lenses of Ballister's reading glasses, he could see Ambrosius's sunny expression fall as he glanced at the resulting photograph.
"Darn it..." he muttered in dismay. "I forgot..."
Ambrosius, the werewolf, had forgotten that Ballister was a vampire. Though he couldn't see it from where he was trapped, Ballister could picture it clearly: it must have looked like Nimona was hovering above the couch cushions.
That was the downside of being a blood-drinking member of the undead, Ballister supposed. Still, his teenaged daughter still thought his condition was 'metal.'
That was victory enough. To Hell with the downsides.