Dawn's earliest light was beginning to shade the eastern horizon with grey when he returned to the house where he had hidden away his new family. Connor yawned widely as he ascended the front steps to the door. He hadn't felt so tired in a long time. Pushing open the door, he knew that the girls were close to waking. Nick was crouched at Jenny's bedside, though not so close as to be within reach of a punch should she wake violently. "They smell differently," Nick remarked.
"Then it'll be soon," Connor replied. Scent was one of the last things to change during the process. He left Jenny to Nick's observation and went to stand at Abby's bedside, sitting on the very edge of the mattress. She looked very peaceful, as though she was merely asleep, and much younger, the worries of waking life eased away. He couldn't remember the last time a mortal female had ever attracted him as greatly as she had. There had been a few which stirred his interest and his lust, but never one quite so completely and wholly as Abigail Sarah Maitland. He hoped that she would be his mate, though he wouldn't force her into anything, sire or not.
Stephen came around to stand beside him. Having already been djamphir for several months, the rush of new life had already begun levelling out in him, though he still had the naïve and childish mindset that all newborn had for the first few years. It only made sense, because after all, in a sense, they were children, just finding their feet in a completely new existence, as helpless and in need of guidance as any human toddler. He lifted one hand without looking, and Stephen crouched on his heels, pushing his head beneath the proffered hand, purring in quiet delight to know he had pleased his sire.
Stephen was eager for his new sisters to awaken just as much as Nick and Father were. He knew that once they were all together and able, they would be leaving, most likely for South America, to learn how to hunt. He had missed South America, the heat and the jungles, the danger it presented, though now he imagined it would be so much more, sharp and clear and shiny. Connor would teach them how to use their new senses to the best of their ability, how to stalk and kill silently like the beautiful deadly jaguars that Stephen had always admired.
He reached out and gently drew his fingertips across the fine white-blond strands of his sleeping sister's hair, as smooth and fine as any silk.
One of Abby's little hands shot towards Connor's face, much the way Nick had lashed out at Stephen when he first woke. Except that unlike Stephen, Connor's superior reflexes, honed by the centuries, allowed him to pull away before she made contact. Air hissed out between her clenched teeth as she kicked her legs and tried to flail away from them, rolling off the edge of the bed. Instead of falling flat on her back, new instincts made her twist around and land on her toes and fingertips like a cat.
"Here, now, little bird, there's no need for that," Connor said, moving around the end of the bed to the other side.
Abby hissed and tried to scramble away from him, though she couldn't quite coordinate all her limbs properly and sprawled limply on the floor. Connor glanced across the room to the second bed, wondering if Jenny was faring any differently.
The dark-haired woman was sitting up, panting rapidly in panic. Nick was sitting beside her, and she had burrowed into his chest, hands smoothing over his shoulders and arms as if to reassure herself he was real. He stroked her hair, spilling down her naked back in a wash of glossy ringlets, and purred softly, a low rumbling like the noise a great cat might make when fondled, soothing her. At least one of them was taking this well.
Connor knelt on the floor beside Abby, not touching but close enough to not be ignored. "Abby," he said quietly. She had buried her face in her folded arms, breath shuddering slightly. He had seen into her past via blood-memories, had seen her abused and mistreated as a child. She was afraid, more than anything, of being that vulnerable again, of being rendered helpless. "Abby, you're safe. Nobody here is going to hurt you. I promise. Look up. Look. It is only friends here."
She lifted her head slowly, either recognising his voice or obeying her sire, either one. Stephen was kneeling in front of her, only just close enough to touch, watching her with concern in his eyes. Abby extended one hand towards him, and he mirrored her gesture until their fingers brushed. She stared at their joined hands a moment, a crease between her brows, then looked up at him and said, "You ought to be dead."
"I know," Stephen replied. "So should he."
He pointed towards Nick, still sitting on the other bed with Jenny, and the petite blond followed the gesture. She blinked rapidly, seeing not one but two living dead men before her, then turned over onto her back, never releasing Stephen's hand, looking up at Connor. "Have I finally gone 'round the bend?" she asked.
Connor tipped his head back and laughed, sitting back on the floor. "No, no, little bird, you haven't. Oh, Abby, there's so much we have to talk about."
It took him another three days to get everything sorted out properly and for his girls to begin settling into their new skins, but before the week was out, they were sitting in Heathrow airport, waiting for their flight to begin boarding. Connor preferred to travel light, especially considering this was only the first leg of their journey, and they each had with them only a single carryon with extra sets of clothing and a few personal items in it. They could always get more once they'd settled. For each of them, he had procured all the documents necessary for leaving the country, all of them under false names. One could never be too careful. Nick had marvelled at how swiftly Connor had gotten hold of such things, but all things were possible with the right connections.
Connor sat in one of the airport's less-than-comfortable seats, glancing towards the board every now and again. He'd missed the Americas, actually. The last time he'd been across the pond, as it were, horses were still the only mode of transportation other than one's own two feet. It would be good to return now, in the age of technology. The wait probably would've bored him, if not for the fact that his new family was full of questions which he was always glad to answer.
"Is Lester like us?" Nick asked, making a slight face; he sat in the row of chairs which faced Connor's, Jenny sitting beside him. He still didn't like the suited man, though his animosity was much less now than it had been before.
"No, no, gyermek, he isn't," Connor replied, still running a gentle hand across Stephen's hair. The tracker had taken the seat beside his sire's and was leaning into the other man's side, one of Connor's arms around him. "James is a mage."
"Mage?" echoed Nick and Jenny in unison. The two could hardly be separated since her remaking, and Connor had a creeping suspicion that the pair were mates, proper mates.
He nodded, smiling internally; there was so much for them to learn, so many things he had to teach them yet. "Magicbenders, spellweavers, the names for their kind are almost as numerous as ours. James is, for the most part, still a human. The only difference is that he will live several centuries longer than normal humans. See, mages are born with powerful magic in their blood, and it is this magic which gives them their incredible longevity. And James is a fourth-generation mage, which means he will live a long time even amongst others of his kind. The stronger the magic is in an individual, the longer they can be expected to live. His children are just as prodigious, and we can expect to see them still youthful and fresh at the turn of the next century."
Abby came to sit in the chair on Connor's other side, curling into his side and tucking her head into the hollow of his shoulder. He placed his arm around her shoulders, and she made no move to shrug him off as she would've before. "How long have you known him, then?" she queried, cuddling into his chest. It was where she felt safest and most loved, tucked into the embrace of her sire.
"Hm...1761, I do believe. Yes, that's the year. He was still a strapping young man then, and a bit too hotheaded for his own good," Connor remarked, fondness colouring his tone as he recalled the young mage, still growing into his own magic, ready to challenge anyone that looked at him cross-eyed.
Jenny laughed, a merry sound that warmed the air. "Lester? Hotheaded?"
"Oh, yes. He was young and hormone-riddled once, just as we all were. The teenage-rebellion phase tends to be much worse in mages, because as the body matures, so does the magic. It tends to make one very irritable and easily provoked." The master djamphir was quiet for a moment as he called for the memories of when he first met the intrepid young James, though his last name had been Miller then. The fool boy had let his temper and his pride get the better of him and had been painted into a tight corner with several very unpleasant skinwalkers that'd been set to make themselves a mage-skin throw rug. Connor had intervened, using his greater age and ability to drive away the abhorrent creatures. To this day, he still couldn't say why he had done so. Something about James simply...intrigued him, much in the same way the members of the team did. Though mages and djamphir tended to keep to themselves, neither allies nor enemies, he and James had remained friends in all the years to come.
He would have told them that story, but their flight had begun boarding. "Time to go, gyerekek."
As they made their way towards the gates, each with their own small carry-on, Abby fell into step behind him and laced her fingers with his, lightly swinging their arms. "What does that word mean? The one you called us just then? Gyrekik."
"Gyerekek," he corrected. "It's a Hungarian word, it means 'children.'"
"Hungarian," she repeated, staring up at him.
Aware of their eyes on him, Connor explained, "I was born in Hungary, little bird, when I was human, and I moved to England a very long time ago. But that is a story for another time, when we are safe and free of this place, yes?" He had been living in the UK long enough that anyone would believe he had been born here. He'd adopted the accent and dialect seamlessly, but once he relaxed, allowed himself to be himself instead of the human persona he'd so carefully crafted, snippets of his mother tongue would invariably slip in, and his voice would change slightly.
He could feel the unease radiating from his new family the closer they got to the gate. Being in a pressurized metal tube 30,000 feet in the air with nothing but humans, with no way to escape or hide, was a stressful undertaking for any djamphir. Even Connor, old as he was, felt slightly uneasy with flying, but for newborns only a few days old... He reached out with his power, through the bond between sire and fledgling, to soothe away their fear and replace it with a steady calm that would last for hours yet. He rarely exercised that kind of power over others because it had a nasty tendency of stifling the personality, like a human taking drugs, and right now was a critical time for them, as they shook off the last vestiges of humanity and their new djamphir selves took shape. At the moment it was necessary, however. There was no way to get them safely through the flight otherwise.
Before they even took off, Nick had fallen asleep, so had Jenny, leaning up against his shoulder. Stephen drew up his hood and slid low in his seat, eyes heavy-lidded yet aware. Abby snuggled up into Connor's shoulder and was soon asleep as well. They'd likely sleep the entire flight. Connor laid his hand over Abby's, resting on his thigh, and smiled as he looked out the window. A master without his family was no master at all, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt like a proper djamphir. Soon enough they'd be in the States, and from there, they could make their way down to South America, to the rainforests and mountains where he could teach his new children how to hunt and chase and kill and they'd be a family together.
He was feeling better already.