A/N: Hi folks! I have returned to writing fanfiction for the first time in a long while. I reread the VA series and the idea for this story popped into my head. I'm putting up two chapters for right now, to see what kind of response I get. It feels good to be writing again. I have missed it. Please review and let me know what you think of the story so far. Thanks.

MONACHOPSIS

Chapter 1

March 23, 1994 7:28 PM

[Abe]

"Damn this all to hell! What is the hold up?" I demanded to my driver, Onan. I leaned forward, glaring at the dashboard clock of my Lexus that had been stuck in an inexplicable traffic jam for what felt like hours. We were only about fifteen miles outside of the Moroi Royal Court in Pennsylvania and I needed to be there now.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mazur. There's still no word. I've telephoned the guardians at Court but the line is busy. There's not any report from the human news sources either." Aggravated, I reached forward and snatched up the car phone myself, dialing the number of a very trusted contact at Court who was certain to be in the loop. When Abe Mazur wanted answers, Abe Mazur got answers. I growled into the receiver as the line rang and rang. No answer. She knew better than to ignore my calls! We would certainly have words later. Perhaps she was no longer worthy of the monetary incentive I so graciously provided in return for her services. Frustrated, I slumped back into my seat, rubbing my temples.

"I could walk there faster than this! I knew we should have taken the chopper," I muttered.

"Sir, you wanted to take the car because it would have taken two hours to get the chopper prepared on such short notice," Eren, my most trusted bodyguard, who was currently seated to my left, reminded me.

"Yes, but that was before I knew we'd be stuck in the goddamn car for two hours anyway!" I retorted sharply, silencing Eren, who shifted his eyes toward the window, frowning. There was no doubt I had angered him with my temper, but with his salary, he was wise enough to keep his opinions to himself.

"I'll keep trying the guardians, Mr. Mazur," said Onan, reaching for the phone once again.

Janine was going to have my head if I didn't get to that hospital soon. It was bad enough that the court had taken over an hour to relay the message to me that she had gone into labor. Over an hour!

Damn those pompous, frivolous, self-absorbed, royal Moroi! The fools are only concerned with flouncing around at their lavish parties. Their lives consist solely of drinking, gambling their precious fortunes, and spreading gossip like wildfire. They're too preoccupied with their own scandalous liaisons to give a moment's thought to anyone else—particularly a non-royal. True, I didn't have their precious blood coursing through my veins—but I didn't need it. I was self-made. It was not by the grace of God that the Moroi world respected Abe Mazur—it was by the breaking of knuckles. My fortune was earned, not inherited. That's not to say that I didn't make sure to know the ins and outs of all their petty affairs. After all, what better way to keep my eyes and ears in their circles than to party with the best of them? I normally was practically omniscient in the Moroi world—the exception being right now!

"The guardians' line is still busy. But it's most likely a car accident," updated Onan, as we stared out at the endless sea of brake lights ahead. "Not anything that the Court would even know or be concerned with." I was inclined to accept his reasoning, except, it made no sense that the line directly to the guardians at Court was constantly busy. Few people even knew that number. Most had to be put through to the guardians on another line that was an extension of the main offices. Plus, my contact wasn't answering, and she knew that it was of utmost importance to answer my calls no matter what. If I didn't hear from her soon, then there had better be an excellent excuse—like her death—or there would be hell to pay.

Whatever was going on, it could not make me miss the birth of my child. This was an important day in a father's life. Janine wanted to keep me far out of the picture and send our child away to one of the academies to become a guardian. Such was the normal arrangement for dhampir children and their Moroi fathers. But she still hadn't denied me seeing the newborn today.

Janine was a weakness of mine. She was beautiful in a bold, fiery sort of way that suited her Irish looks. Her blazing red hair was cropped short, a stark contrast to her smooth, milky white skin. Although she was very petite, she had a curvy, toned body typical of dhampir women. Most of the time Guardian Hathaway was the textbook description of a perfect bodyguard: attentive, fiercely loyal and deadly. She and I both wielded power, though in entirely different ways. I think that was what drew us to one another, time and again, but also what continuously drove us apart. Either of us giving in to the other was like giving up some of the power we coveted, and so we constantly butted heads. We hadn't planned to have a child together, but we also hadn't done anything to prevent it. I knew Janine wasn't happy, having just started out in her guardian career. But she'd taken it in stride, just like she'd done with every challenge she'd ever faced. I knew desk work at the court had made her miserable for the duration of her pregnancy, and she would have to continue with it while she took care of our newborn. The education system for dhampirs and Moroi started them out at a fairly young age, but she would still have a few years before our child could enter the education system.

I couldn't say that I was entirely pleased with the arrangement. Most of the time, Moroi fathers were practically non-existent to their dhampir offspring. Janine wanted it this way for us. Some of my business ventures were of the nature that she felt it best for me to keep my distance from our child. Plus she had a career. I could hardly expect her to give that up for us to run off or for her to go and live like a bloodwhore. Besides, I knew she wanted our child to join the guardians like she had. It was a cause she firmly believed in and it required years of dedicated training. So, we had agreed upon sending our child to one of the academies for dhampirs and Moroi. Janine would sacrifice a few years of active duty until our child was school-aged. I would do my part to fund any of Janine and the child's needs as well as the costs of an education. That was one thing I did have the power to do.

"Mr. Mazur, I finally got through to Court." I must have been too deep in thought to have heard Onan talking on the phone.

"Well?" I demanded.

"It's not good, sir. There's been a Strigoi attack." I swallowed nervously. To my left and right I felt my two guardians tense up. "They ran a Moroi family off the road and attacked them. Made it look like a car accident. They had to call in the Alchemists to deal with human witnesses. It's all a chaotic mess. That's why traffic is so backed up." It made sense to me now, why the guardians' phone line had been so busy. "As soon as I get to the next exit we can take an alternate route to the hospital," he added.

I was so floored that I barely heard him. Strigoi running victims off the road in cars? In my twenty-five years, I'd never heard of an attack like that before. Even with a guardian, an attack in an automobile could easily turn deadly. The guardian and the Moroi could have already been injured from the accident, making it even simpler for the Strigoi to finish them off. I felt a bit nauseated at the thought.

"Did they ID the victims yet?" asked Eren.

"Some members of the Ozera family," answered Onan. "Ruslan and Grisha, along with their guardian and their three children. The youngest wasn't even a year old. All confirmed dead." I swallowed, picturing the family in my head. I'd just seen them a few days ago at Court. Ruslan, tall with black hair and pale blue eyes and his wife, Grisha, petite for a Moroi, with coppery hair, had been out walking with their three children. The youngest stood out in my mind. Held high in her father's arms, she shared his dark hair, and her wide, blue eyes took in the world with such innocence. She'd worn a bright yellow pea coat and matching yellow shoes—like a ray of sunshine. A smile danced across her face. I tried not to picture her body now, cold and lifeless; bite marks on her tiny neck. I felt sick.

I couldn't help imagining, what if it had been my child, sharing that same fate?

[Janine]

"I'm going to need you to push harder, Miss Hathaway," a skinny, tired-looking, Moroi nurse with an unnaturally nasally voice commanded for the tenth time.

"I am pushing!" I bellowed, louder than I had meant to. The nurse's weary face looked slightly taken aback, but didn't say anything else. "Where is Ibrahim?" I demanded, writhing as a sharp wave of pain flooded over me. "He should have been here hours ago," I gasped.

"Mr. Mazur hasn't arrived yet. He sends his apologies, but he is caught in traffic," answered yet another nurse standing near the door. She was young, probably close to my age, with sleek, blonde hair and such a huge, fake smile permanently plastered on her face. I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to punch her. That is, if I could have gotten out of this godforsaken bed. Damn hormones!

"Well, tell him to GET HERE NOW!" I shrieked instead, trying to let out my frustrations as I continued pushing.

"Get the doctor in here! This baby's coming!" I heard the skinny nurse shout. Blondie bolted out the door.

"No, not yet!" I protested. "It can't be time yet!"

"Sorry, Miss Hathaway," said the middle-aged female doctor, bustling through the doorway. Her smile seemed more genuine, and there were lines of fatigue etched into her face. "These things don't wait."

"Well shove it back in there then!" I shouted. "The father's not here yet!" Ignoring my protests, the doctor and nurses scurried around getting ready for the delivery.

The next few moments passed by in an agonizing blur. I only remembered a horrific pain, the sounds of an infant's cries, and overwhelming exhaustion.

"It's a girl!" announced the skinny nurse brightly. I had honestly been hoping for a boy. It would have been easier on me to send a boy to guardian school than a girl. Hopefully she'd take after me and enjoy it.

A moment later, a tiny bundle, wrapped in a blanket, was placed into my arms. She was no longer crying, and looked peaceful, like she was practically asleep.

"Hi, baby," I cooed, feeling my heart melt as I looked at her. When I had found out I was pregnant, I'd been horrified. I'd spent most of this pregnancy wishing that I hadn't been so reckless. Now, for the first time, I felt a wave of joy and love gazing at this tiny miracle we had created. I knew now, that I would sacrifice whatever it took to keep my beautiful daughter happy and healthy. But where on earth was Ibrahim? He'd missed our baby's birth! Surely he should have been here for this! I at least wanted him to help me with a name.

"You have to let me in! I am the father!" I heard a familiar voice in the hallway. Well, that answered my question. Ibrahim had arrived.

A second later, he strolled through the door, handsome as always, dressed in a lime green button-down shirt and colorful paisley scarf. Somehow he could always make those ridiculous, flashy colors look good. I couldn't help but smile at him as his eyes fell on me and his daughter. But I soon noticed a troubled look in his eyes. Something wasn't right.

"Janine," he breathed, stepping to my bedside and gazing down at our daughter.

"It's a girl, Ibrahim," I whispered, unable to stay upset with him for being late. That's the way it was with him. He always had his reasons, and I'd learned a long time ago not to ask too many questions.

"My precious daughter," he sighed, touching the tiny infant's head with his fingertips. I could sense sadness in his voice.

"What is it, Ibrahim? What's wrong?" I asked carefully.

"Janine, there was a Strigoi attack."

"What?" I demanded, my voice louder than it should have been. My baby's eyes widened and she looked like she might cry. "What happened?" I repeated in a softer tone. I listened intently as Ibrahim described the details of the attack. I'd never heard of anything quite like it. I had known of Ruslan and Grisha. They were good people. And their guardian, Lorenzo, had been a year ahead of me at the academy. We'd been friendly, sparring and practicing together quite a bit. He'd been so proud to have landed the job with the Ozera family right out of school. He was a phenomenal guardian—one of the very best in his graduating class. My heart ached.

Looking into Abe's eyes, I could tell he was the most unsettled I'd ever seen him. His eyes lit up with love for our precious daughter, but at the same time I read worry in his features.

"Our little darling needs a name," I spoke softly to him, admiring the tiny bundle in my arms staring up at me.

"Rose, like the most beautiful flower," Abe answered without hesitation, gazing at his daughter.

"Rosemarie," I suggested, wanting to make the name a bit more unique.

"It's perfect," Abe replied, reaching down to squeeze my hand. "Our perfect, precious daughter—our little Rosemarie."