Chapter 6: The Owl of Undoing

“I did get caught once,” William said, as he climbed to his feet. “I fell asleep in Tobias’s bed and was running late for morning drills. I put on my full armor to climb out the window and my culross got caught on a tree.”

He reached down to help Vlad up. “Your mother, the Queen, found me hanging there when she was out for her morning walk and oh, the lecture she gave me!”

It was an old tradition, one they had kept from their days on the march when King Josef sent them out to conquer distant and foreign lands.

His admission broke the tension. They both began to laugh. Nodding in unspoken agreement, they started gathering supplies for a fire. It was an old tradition, one they had kept from their days on the march when King Josef sent them out to conquer distant and foreign lands. It was an easier tradition as vampires, given their supernatural strength and speed. William pulled two old stumps out of the ground with ease while Vlad gathered firewood and laid out a set of heavy stones. 

They reminisced about everything from the time Vlad stole away to the cellar of a noble in Champs Les Sims and got rip-roaring drunk on his collection of nectar, to the time William and Tobias tried to hide a dog they were training from King Josef’s advisors. 

Vlad laughed and wiped tears from his eyes, “…but you insisted that dog could fetch on command! Lord and Lady Sibley spent weeks trying but the mutt wouldn’t bring them so much as a boot!”

William chuckled and shook his head. “Tobias was convinced that dog would buy us enough favor with the Sibleys that we would be dismissed from royal service and get a cushy job doing personal protection.” 

His tone turned wistful, “He had all these plans for building a wee cottage on the edge of their property, growing vegetables, running off the occasional bandit. It would have been a good life.”

Vlad always wondered how William could speak of losing Tobias and maintain his composure. How could he even think of his husband—his one true love—gone and buried for centuries? 

How did it not kill him? 

Vlad tried to give order to his memories, to consider William’s loss without thinking of his own. When they were first turned, it had been…difficult. They camped in the woods, sleeping in caves by day and hunting llama-herders and farmers at night to keep from starving. Vlad understood his…mistakes…but William had taken on vampirism nearly effortlessly. 

He saw Tobias, could have turned him at anytime, but William chose not to. Why? 

William pulled Vlad out of his reverie. “You went out hunting with Anastasia.”

It wasn’t a question. William knew and he didn’t approve. He had never approved of Miss Hell. 

Vlad kept his tone light. “I don’t think she’d appreciate the cavalier use of her first name.”

No one called Miss Hell by her first name, not even Vlad. It unleashed something terrible in her. He asked her about it once and she gave him a look that was so bereft, so unhinged in its grief, that it took his breath away.

“Anastasia is dead and buried,” she told him, and never said anything more about it.

…she gave him a look that was so bereft, so unhinged in its grief, that it took his breath away.

He knew she was from a small village in Glimmerbrook but she never told him how she was turned or by whom. And Vlad, despite all of his considerable efforts, had never been able to discover the answer.

William would not be deterred. “It makes you sick, feeding without permission. And yet, you terrorized those sims tonight. To what end?”

“It didn’t bother me,” Vlad sniffed. 

Lie, his conscience hissed.

“Even Caleb could hear you hurling your guts out for hours and he’s not yet 300. Why not embrace this change? Toss Bloodvein and Anastasia out. Many would stand with you, and the rest I would gladly help get in line.” William gave him a gleeful smile as he said the last part. 

Vlad shook his head. “They are important allies. And I have no desire to remain in this state.” 

Lie. Lie. Lie, his conscience repeated. But his conscience was wrong. He didn’t want to change. Had absolutely no interest in it. 

“Is this about Atorn and Kaylynn?” William’s voice was low, nearly a whisper. 

Vlad’s throat closed up. At one time they had been everything to him. They had been…the rest of the words died in his brain. Sometimes he couldn’t bear the thought of it—a wife and a son dead and buried for ages now. Like Tobias. Like his mother. Like his sister. 

Like everyone. 

“Absolutely not. This about a king needing his strength.” But the words sounded hollow even to Vlad’s ears.

“Vladislaus, brutality is—“

“Part of the job,” Vlad finished, cutting him off. “Brutality is what saved our lives. A kind king is a dead king.”

And he knew then that he was shouting, showing weakness. Protesting too much, his conscience added.

“Your father certainly thought that and look where he ended up,” William challenged.

Vlad bought loyalty so that it was his to discard when it no longer suited him.

If it were anyone else, Vlad might have ended them. William’s insinuation was an insult. His father had people thrown into a pond of sharks for less. Vlad bought loyalty so that it was his to discard when it no longer suited him. For situations like this.

But he didn’t buy William’s loyalty. He earned it long ago and for whatever reason, he could not bring himself to toss it away. 

He meant to make his voice cold, but instead it came out haunted. “You’re right. A king grants favors at his discretion. Get rid of the television.” 

He got up and walked towards the front of the house. William’s words were already doing their work, skittering through his conscience. Vlad paused. “And the electricity.”