The Letters: Confessions of a Vampire

Disclaimer: I hold no claim on the rights to the series Blood Ties or the Blood Books by Tanya Huff, but thank these marvelously blessed creative people for giving them life and then gifting them to us.

Author's Note: We have all been so unhappy the way things have ended for our dear friends; Henry, Vicki, Mike, Coreen, and the world they live in. Though we pray that truly there is no end for BT, many of us have woven our own better endings. This is mine. (Pardon the pun, but I revamped this a bit since its first publication. There were some glaring errors and some unsmooth transitions. Sorry for that. I hope it reads better this time.)

Chapter One

The First Time

Sitting behind cluttered desk, Vicki stared blindly at the phone she had just set back to its cradle. Strangely enough, it had been Kate calling to let her know that Mike had been cleared for return to duty.

"He's on probation, Vicki. Every case he gets for the next month will be reviewed." Kate had told her. "If you have any feelings for him, please don't mess this up. Unlike you, being a cop is his life. Don't…." Kate sighed.

Vicki could hear the wheels turning in the normally restrained woman's mind. Instead of waiting for her to finish, Vicki intervened. "Take care of him for me, Kate." She said quietly before severing the connection.

Now, in the solitude of her office, Vicki felt her heart crack just a little bit more and was surprised to even think there was anything left of it that could. She had been certain the Board would take a more honest look at Mike's career than Crowley ever could, but there had been that chance, that small chance that they wouldn't and it had weighed on her, especially when Mike refused to let her speak on his behalf. She didn't know what she would have done to fix it, if he had been let go. She didn't even know if she could short of begging Henry to intervene with his 'vampire mojo'. But that wouldn't have been an option anyway. Henry was gone.

Those three words started the ache inside her all over again. Unaware of her movements, she placed an unsteady hand over her heart and gently added pressure, trying to ease the pain tightening her chest. In the last five days since Henry's departure from her life, Coreen's resurrection, and Mike's passionate dismissal, she has had nothing to distract her from the pain, from facing herself and the disaster she has made her life.

Shifting her gaze from the phone to the brightening morning light spearing through the open slats of her blinds, the glint of dark amber at the corner of her desk captured her attention.

"Oh, yeah, like you've been a lot of help." She muttered to the near empty decanter of whiskey mocking her. "A headache the size of a freight train and bad stomach on top. Some friend you turned out to be."

And some friend you turned out to be, echoed the voice of her conscience, which had yet to be silent since she had seen the door slammed behind Henry once last time.

She growled low in her throat, then laughed at how similar she sounded to someone knew…and missed so badly she didn't know if she could draw a breath without feeling the pain of his leaving. Then came the tears; just two this morning, a far cry from the unending stream of them the night before and the night before that and the night before that.

Night; it had become the hardest time of the day to get through. Not because of her lack of vision….She snorted. Yes, well maybe because of exactly that, she admitted to herself. Lack of vision, the phrase was the double edged sword she cut herself deeply with every day since hearing the diagnosis of her impending blindness nearly two years ago. And with it, she has managed o cut out a major organ and a limb.

She sighed, but did not wipe them away like she has brushed away everything and every one else in her life. They were honest tears; tears of regret, of grief, and even tears of self pity. And they reminded her of what a fool she had been.

God, what an arrogant blind fool! And why? Because she had been so blinded by her fear of looking weak and needy she slammed the door in the face of everything that truly made a person strong; family, friends, and love. That's why. What had Norman as Henry said to her? She should embrace her fear, it would keep her sane. Instead, she turned her blind eyes upon it and created the insanity which now hovered over her future.

Again, Henry had been right. He could not protect her from herself.

Leaning back in her chair, using the its gentle rocking motion to try and calm her, she closed her burning eyes and let her thoughts spin where they may. Images of the past with Mike, with Henry, flitted across her brain bringing sparks of happiness, but floods of despair. When, she wondered, had it all changed? When had she grown so afraid of opening herself to love?

Lost in her thoughts, Vicki did not hear the rattling of a key in the front office door. Nor did she hear the clatter of boot heels across the hardwood floor. What did catch her attention was the mouth watering aroma of fresh hot coffee and the sweet sugary scent of cinnamon and frosting.

Eyes popping open, she turned and stared at the dark figure hovering uncertainly at the doorway.

"Coreen!" Jumping to her feet, Vicki crossed the room and took the girl in her arms. Breast to breast, cheek to cheek, Vicki held the girl tightly to her for a moment then pulled away to examine her closely. Hot pink streaked hair, dark make-up elegantly applied, black lace bustier over purple satin above a short black gypsy cotton skirt and knee high black boots, she looked like Coreen through and through, until Vicki's gaze fell to the edge of her scar peeking out from the purple collar. A frown followed the smile she had worn and a tendril of fear skittered across her sore heart. "You shouldn't be here, Coreen."

"You don't want me?" Coreen asked, a small smile hovering on her very darkly painted lips. "I brought coffee." She wheedled.

Taking the offered cup and the small pink bakery box from the goth's hands, Vicki carefully placed them on the desk. "That's not what I meant. I meant it's only been five days since—" Vicki choked on the rest of her words.

Seeing her Vicki's distress, Coreen laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm fine. A few bad dreams, but other than that, I'm great. Ready to hunt down some demon butt!"

Vicki shuddered beneath the hand. It was a few seconds before she could turn and meet the young girl's bright gaze. "I can't fight him alone, Coreen."

"You're not alone, Vicki." Coreen said softly, squeezing the older woman's shoulder once before letting go. You never were, she wanted to add, but kept that part to herself. Just because Vicki had given her a hug—and sure it had been the first honest felt hug voluntarily given by the woman—didn't mean Coreen had the right to castigate her. It was obvious by the swollen eyes and her pale complexion Vicki had spent the past five days in an emotional hell and she could not find it in her heart to add to the burden, especially when she herself was only beginning to see the bigger picture.

"Henry's gone."

The words were baldly stated and in spite of Vicki's wish to sound detached, Coreen heard clearly the anguish behind them.

Unable to look Coreen in the eye, uncertain just how much of that scene in Henry's condo she had witnessed or recalled, Vicki moved back to the false comfort of the chair behind her desk. As she stared out the window, she heard the rustle of papers.

"He left this for me to give to you." Coreen's voice was almost a whisper.

'This' was a large pristine white envelope slid across the battered surface of her desk. Scrawled in elegant style was a single word; Victoria.

Heart pounding so hard in her chest the echo of the its beating in her ears drowned the sound of Coreen returning to her place in the front office. Vicki felt herself teetering on the edge of a meltdown. Every ragged breath she took brought to her lungs the intoxicating scent that uniquely belonged to Henry. He had taught her that; to appreciate the fragrance of the world around her. Sure her sense of smell would never be as refined as his, but since her evening with Henry after her meeting with the director of Garden Hill Funeral Services, she learned how just how powerful a scent could affect a body's will.

Groaning silently to herself, Vicki recalled how effectively Henry had been seduced by the perfumes of the mortuary imbedded in her clothes and skin. How sweetly and skillfully and honestly he had shared that seduction with her. The feel of him, so close, deeply drawing her essences into himself, the sound of his voice as he spoke of his desires had ignited an instant fire deep inside. With scarcely a touch of his face against hers, with the whisper of his breath brushing her skin, she had melted. The feel of her juices sliding from her womb and soaking her panties sent her into a near panic. The flick of his tongue against her ear even as she tried to detour his attention to the strange events taking place on her computer screen sent her spinning into a butterfly of an orgasm. It had been all she could do to hang on to her sanity, to not arch her body into his touch and moan her satisfaction.

What would he have done if she had?

Another sigh flew from her lips and the sound of it sparked a bit of familiar anger. She was sighing too much. She needed to get a grip, regain control. She stared at the envelope. So he left her a package…via Coreen no less! It was probably just some old case notes he had.

Picking it up, Vicki forced herself to not trace the bold graceful lines of her first name with her finger. Instead, she flipped it over and with cold precision flicked the metal clasp and peeled back the flap. The heady aroma of Henry struck her heart and soul as she tipped the envelope and poured out its contents; letters, personal and private, wrapped lovingly in a red silk ribbon tied and sealed with black wax bearing the Tudor family's ancient crest.

"Oh God." The small cry snuck past her lips. Though she had never heard Henry tell of this, never had personally experienced something of this nature, a deep feminine part of her knew exactly what they were. Her first instinct was to jump out of her chair, to run as fast and far away as she possibly could. But something stronger than fear kept her there. The shudder from a sob she refused to release lived in her fingertips as she gently touched the fine linen envelope at the top of the stack. It bore no name, only a single word; Angel. "Oh, Henry, what have you done?"

The broken whisper snagged Coreen's ears. Watching Vicki through the open glass peek-through between her front office and Vicki's private domain, Coreen watched the older woman's hesitation. It was easy to read the pain on Vicki's face. Coreen had experienced that vision all too clearly the night Vicki had brought her back from Hell. She held her breath as Vicki reached to run a trembling finger over the first letter, then gasped as she caught a clear glimpse of the blood black brands imbedded in Vicki's flesh. Between one heart beat and the next Coreen went from feeling lost and guilty to being submerged in the warmth of having been suddenly given deeper understanding of the way life and death works. For the first time in a year she felt not the weight of guilt for having caused Vicki so much pain, but a glimmer of hope. Before now, Coreen had always believed if it hadn't been for her own desire to wreak vengeance upon the monster who had stolen her Ian from her, Vicki would never have ended up scarred and scared down to her very soul. For that reason alone, Coreen had done her best to railroad Vicki into letting her be her assistance. She was not stupid. She had been exposed to enough of the darker side of life to know that although Henry had stopped Asteroth from venturing into the world that first time, things would never be the same. Vicki was marked and what a demon marked a demon took. It was only a matter of time. Coreen knew she owed Vicki a greater debt than she could ever repay, but she swore to herself that she would at least try to keep Vicki safe from all that was about to come after her. What better place to repay her debt from then to be at Vicki's side? She just wished she'd been able to see just how much Vicki had changed the moment she had been touched by the dark side.

Unfortunately, Coreen had not known Vicki prior to Ian's death. She had not realized until too late how much Vicki had taken to heart her responsibility to keep the world safe. When she had finally realized the cost of her own vengeance had been the sacrifice of every ounce of possible happiness in Vicki's life Coreen woke and slept with the weight of that knowledge and did her best to find a way to undo the damage she caused.

Right up until the moment when Asteroth had burned himself into her body she fought to correct her mistake. The moment her heart beat once more in her chest, she knew only that she was grateful for Norman's ineptitude, Vicki's unrelenting drive, Henry's honor, and yes, even Asteroth's demonic nature. Without any of that, she would have remained in the Limbo Asteroth had cast her soul into or worse, she would have become Norman's demon bride as he had so sickly desired.

Life was about balance, she had been told by her spiritual mentor, and Coreen's eyes and mind were now opened to the truth of that very statement. Wickedness could not live without Goodness. Sacrifice could not happen without the need for gain. It didn't matter if that gain was for the side of Light or the side of Dark. Evil plans could not be laid without having a countermeasure put into place. Tip the scales and chaos would reign. No man could live a life of purity, but neither could life survive in pure dark design. Dark desires may have given those marks on Vicki's soul, but love had been their creator; Coreen's love for Ian, Norman's love for Coreen, and Asteroth's love of unending Dark Times. Love brought the power of them to Vicki's control; love of justice when Magnus O'Connor struck against those she once worked with, love of Mike when the solving of the riddle of Pandora's Box had led to his death (oh, yes, in a weak moment, Vicki had told her what happened), love for Henry once to defend him against Norman and once to save him from certain death at a sorcerer's hand, and love for her when Vicki chose to bring Coreen back from torments of Hell.

Henry was wrong, Coreen thought as she watched Vicki carefully pull the top envelope out from beneath the blood red ribbon. "And if this doesn't go the way I believe it should be, then I'll just have to find a way to make that damned undead bastard prince see the Light." Coreen swore to herself as she turned her gaze away from Vicki's office, leaving the woman to find her own enlightenment in private.

Completely unaware of Coreen's epiphany, Vicki stared at the red wax seal poured over the flap of the linen envelope in her hand. It did not bear the mark of the Tudors, but instead, carried the raised edges of a perfect and beautiful letter H. Breath held, she slid her fingernail beneath the flap and broke the seal. Her eyes closed briefly against a pain that pierced not her body, but her soul. It was fear. She knew it was fear. She could taste its bitterness in the back of her throat, feel the burn of it in the tears left hanging in her eyes, but she was not going to run away as she has done before. She was going to take the advice of a demon. She would embrace her fear, make it her own and grow stronger for having done so. No longer was she going to keep her blind eyes turned away. Whatever Henry had to tell her, she would bear it. She had to.

With careful fingers, she pulled the small folded pages from their paper cage, opened them, and began to read.

Angelic….

That is the word which springs to mind when I think of how the sound of your voice above all other sounds in that cold and foul smelling alleyway rescued me. Like the bells of heaven it called to me…you called to me, pulling me from a blackness of a century old memory. When I looked up I found myself faced with a vision that instantly awakened within me a hunger more powerful than any I have ever had for blood or vengeance. You thought I had disappeared from your sight, but the truth is I could not have moved to save my immortal soul. Instinct from hundreds of years of self preservation cloaked me, but there I remained within a hand's reach of you, unseen and intoxicated. The heat rolling from your perfect form warmed my cold flesh. The pulsating rush of your blood through your veins hypnotized me. I grew drunk on the sweet spice of your body; the fragrance of your soul.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt.

At the time I did not recognize the sensations filling me, but I could not turn away so I followed you until you got into a cab a half a block away and disappeared from my sight. The moment you left I was like the moon eclipsed by the sun; returned to the hollow darkness in which I existed.

What would happen, I wonder now as I sit amidst the remnants of my long life. What would have happened if I had made myself known? Would you have seen me for the monster that I am? Or would you be like all others whom I have known; easily persuaded by my charms?

I think, perhaps, it is best if I do not find out, lest the disappointment add one more feather to the weight of my growing disenchantment.

So then I bid you safe journey, angel, and sweet, long lasting life.

Henry