Chapter Eleven: And We Shall Crawl on Bellies Like Beasts

"Your Grace? Mother, you summoned me?"

Aurelia does not look her mother in the eyes. No one does – it is audacious and dangerous to consider oneself equal to Lady Death. Instead she stares at the stone floor and tries to ignore the whispers crawling up her spine and seeping into her ears like pus. There's something wrong with Castle Draculi, very wrong. And she knows it.

Walls aren't supposed to talk to you.

Mother hasn't spoken yet and the whispers are pressing in like a vice. Crushing her head. Making her hurt. They're loud. And it would be different if the whispers were white-noise, like at court, droning that she can tune out. But it isn't, because she can pick out individual voices, hear what they are saying, and they're so very angry. The magick of Castle Draculi is old, very old, and the contract was made in blood, carried by the winds to the mountains to accept. And so the price of that contract was blood in return, upir and human and it didn't matter because there would never be enough to pay the debt and the Castle is angry.

Aurelia has never been this afraid in her life.

Wait, no, that isn't quite true. She's been more scared only once previous. She was four years old and exhausted, head lolling against her Papa's shoulder while she clung to him like a lifeline, and Mother just kept screaming. Like a banshee or a demon and all she wanted to do was cry. So she did. Aurelia cried and cried and cried, eyes swollen and body shaking. Papa was talking in that nice soothing way of his, trying to keep Mother from yelling any louder, from doing anything drastic. And then he started shaking, shuddering, sputtering, and Little Aurelia just couldn't stop screaming. Because her Papa was bleeding from his eyes and nose, crimson on his lips, and it kept dripping into her hair, onto her face, and . . . .

"Momma, what are you doing?!"

Mother had laughed, then sneered, and said that little beasts who sniveled and cried didn't deserve to have a Papa. And Aurelia didn't like that gleam in her eyes, or how the whispers that she pretended not to hear got louder and less angry, crooning lots of things to Momma that didn't make sense but sounded a little bit like her nanny when she gave praise. It was very very wrong and cold. So cold. Momma was a cold woman when she wasn't making people bleed. The look in Momma's eyes makes her scared.

So Aurelia has learned the real meaning of fear and she keeps it close to her heart so that she doesn't end up like Papa. . . .

"You've failed me, little one," and the so-called term of endearment sounds like a curse falling from Her Majesty's lips.

Terror freezes her bones. She can't move. Or maybe it isn't just terror because she's trying to move, to run, to just get away but her muscles won't cooperate. Mother has a grip on her limbs and it's like steel, like diamond. It burns. And it aches. And as Mother tightens her hold, pulls the ligaments and warps the bones, Aurelia feels the tears well up.

God, when did she become so weak? So afraid?

She didn't ask to be this!

"You've failed me, little girl."

It's a purr, a croon, a predator toying with its food, and Aurelia somehow finds the willpower to look at her mother. She regrets the decision almost immediately.

Because Ioana Tepes, Lady Death, reigns the upir kingdom with steel smirks and a glass shard violet gaze. She is winter cruel and inferno crazy, sparks over skin and silver daggers. She is broken bones and shattered mirrors. God, her mother is crazy. Insane in the membrane. Oh, shit, can Mother hear her thoughts because there's something clamping down and it hurts more and. . . .

She can't move.

She can't move.

Oh GOD she can't fucking. MOVE!

And it hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts why are you hurting me, Mommy, why are you doing this I can't take this anymore there's too much too much please STOP! She's panicking. Aurelia knows, deep down in place that she can't really access right now, that panicking is absolutely fucking useless. But she can't help it. There's too much pain. Too much. It hurts. It hurts.

Her arms have left her body and she's screaming.

Screaming.

DYING.

Oh, God, she never wanted to be this.

Mother laughs as the world falls to black and says, "You're a failure, little one. Now you may die like one."

No. Please. Mother don't leave. She can't speak, can't think, can't breathe.

She didn't want to be this. . . . !

"My Lady! My Lady, wake up! We're here."

Aurelia snapped awake in an instant, snarling quietly as she snatched Bellatrix's wrist out of the air and squeezed. The disgusting British woman nearly shrieked, whimpering as her wrist was crushed in her young mistress's iron grip. Violet eyes glared up at her dangerously. Violently. There weren't many moments that Aurelia Tepes lost control - that had been the first hard-won lesson she'd learned over her short lifetime, never lose your senses - but when she did, the change in her demeanor was downright frightening.

She became bestial and wild, a Warrior through to the core, and there were very few upir who could stand up to her wrath.

"What have I told you about waking me up in such a manner?" Aurelia hissed. "It is disrespectful and rude, and I will not tolerate such behavior, not even from someone as Gifted as you. So I suggest, Bellatrix, that you refrain from taking such a course of action in the future. Is that completely understood?"

Bellatrix nodded quickly, dreadlocks swaying and crimson eyes wide. "Yes, My Lady! Of course, my Lady! Anything you ask."

Disgusted by her gutless companion, Aurelia released the offending limb from her grasp. There were bruises forming around the delicate wrist, varying shades of black and purple, but they didn't really matter. After composing herself, the princess looked about the cabin for a clue as to what her vassal had been prattling on about in the first place. People were staring awkwardly at them, frozen in motion whilst they collected their carry-on luggage from the cargo hold above the seats. However, one glance at the young teenager's violet gaze quickly set them moving again.

Aurelia scowled, in a particularly bad humor after the . . . dream that she had.

"Get our things, Bellatrix," she snapped. "We need to move if we're to make it to Bailey City before tomorrow."

The psychotic Tracker giggled quietly at the thought of going on a mission. She yanked down the heavy bags with unnatural ease, shocked eyes tracking her movements, and she followed the smaller girl out onto the gang-walk, practically buzzing with excitement. Aurelia rolled her shoulders, stiff, uncomfortable with this many bodies crowded in around her and no means of protection. Of course, they had connections to procure weapons - a pair of swords and perhaps a few throwing knives - within the United States. But for now she had to rely on her own strength and hand-to-hand combat skills.

She felt practically naked without Sinister and Night's Fall on her hips.

(mostly because there's no end to Mother's wrath and what should happen if you disappoint and she finds you?)

(shut up and just follow orders because we won't disappoint and nothing will happen if you just. fucking. obey!)

Aurelia let out a quiet snarl that sent a few grown businessmen scurry off into the depths of the O'Hare International Airport, and then proceeded to wrinkle her nose at the smell permeating the large enclosed space. So many bodies! Human beings, while being rather delicious to eat when one was famished, smelled absolutely atrocious in large groups. It was body odor and smog that clung to clothing, stale menthol cigarettes and greasy fast-food. And then over that you got the heavy smells of over-priced perfumes and cologne mixing in with cheap body wash and deodorant. Not to mention shampoo. God above, shampoo seemed to shatter through her nose like a nuclear missile. Honestly, it was all the fourteen year old princess could do to keep from vomiting in the middle of the terminal.

"Disgusting," she muttered to herself. "Absolutely disgusting."

The dark-haired girl moved through the swarm of human bodies with ease despite her discomfort. Moving through the annual court-gatherings had allowed her some knowledge about how to navigate a large crowd. Not to mention the humans, pitifully ill-equipped in the senses department though they were, possessed enough survival instinct to give her a wide berth. Aurelia was not one who simply blended in. She was impeccably dressed, Gucci leather pumps on her delicate feet and a Prada bag dangling from her fingertips, Ray Bans having been perched on the bridge of her nose to mask her violet eyes. Her outfit was in all crimson, stark against her white skin and ebony curls. She looked to be a very young sort of model,

The kind of model that had drugged-out, leather-clad groupies to carry their luggage and make all sorts of odd hungry noises towards people that got too close.

Yeah, not weird at all.

Somehow, by some miracle that neither of them really deserved, they managed to make it through security without Bellatrix setting off fifty billion red-flags and getting them detained. Or eating some poor bastard.

That last one was only because Aurelia had physically dragged her away from a rather portly customs officer who had just received a rather nasty paper-cut on his index finger. He smelled an awful lot like bacon cheeseburgers, which the princess had to agree was absolutely divine after wading through the hordes of sweaty humans with no bleeding wounds. But they were on a mission.

(and you still can't get the look on little Mateo's face out of your head, can you little girl? wanted to save him?)

(shut the hell up I'm trying to make this dumb broad work without getting us caught and having to massacre people)

Sometimes, Aurelia wished that she didn't have a conscience to hide. Because masking it and trying to seem cold while actually protecting someone - without making it look overtly like you're protecting them - was a pain in the ass.

Exhausted from her nightmare-infused plane trip and trying to keep Bellatrix on a tight leash, as well as dealing with the onset of what was sure to be a fantastical migraine, Aurelia glared and snarled at anyone who so much as dared to look at her cross-eyed. She glided through the crowds like a wraith, a demon with dreadlocks following in her wake. They had almost almost made it outside, where there was sure to be a car waiting to drive them to their weapons-contact, when the fourteen year old felt the Tracker veer off towards a, surprisingly, empty part of the airport.

She took a deep breath through her nose and counted to ten.

Mother would be very upset if she had to send a new Tracker - one who would not be nearly as good - because the "little princess" had lost her temper.

Delicate shoulders taut under her expensive crimson blouse, Aurelia followed her errant servant across the expansive floor and towards what sounded almost like. . .

Aurelia tensed again, hissing, and took off at a sprint. She could smell tears. Hear whimpers. And the scent of Bellatrix - a mixture of marijuana and cigarettes and distressed leather - lead her exactly to where she needed to be. There was a tiny girl in a yellow sun-dress huddled in the corner of an abandoned bathroom, a girl with thick blonde curls and bright blue eyes, so full of tears and terror it was probably impossible for the poor thing to see. She looked to be about five, maybe six. And there stood Bellatrix, blood-thirsty and ravaged and in possession of a madness that was far too familiar for Aurelia's tastes.

She was ready to strike.

Children were her favorite, especially the little ones.

"H-h-help me pwease!"

Bellatrix lunged.

It moved in slow motion. The child was crying. Bellatrix was moving, darting, fangs dripping saliva and crimson in her eyes. Aurelia tensed. Darted. Moved between the upir and the human with an enraged snarl that didn't sound right coming from such a petite young girl. Everything moved like molasses. Until it didn't. Time began to run normally when Bellatrix found herself slammed into a tiled-wall, cracking it, a viciously snarling princess in her face and one delicate hand clenching her windpipe.

The Tracker gasped. Clawed. Struggled.

Nothing.

Aurelia was the Black Knight, her mother's well-groomed heir, and she would not budge.

"What in the thrice-damned hell do you think you're doing?!"

Bellatrix was turning blue, gasping like a fish, so Aurelia relaxed her hold on the older woman's throat by the slightest margin. Just enough so she could speak. The woman cowered away as per the usual. It was always such an odd juxtaposition, that simpering coward's submission on such an aristocratic, piercing filled face. But, in that moment, the princess was far too angry to appreciate the subtle ironies of her life. All she could see were the tears, the fear, the big blue eyes that kept pleading with her to save me!

"My Lady, forgive me! I was so very hungry, and I heard this human crying in this part of the building all alone so I thought, if I were really careful, I could sneak a quick meal and we'd be on our way! No one'll see me! I promise! And it's obvious the little brat won't fight back! Please, my Lady, I'm so so so hungry! Please!"

"Be silent you snivelling little căţea (bitch)!" Aurelia snarled. "Your incompetence and complete incapability of controlling your actions are going to get us captured! Get the fuck out to the car and don't move from the back seat until I have finished my business in this. . . .place."

Bellatrix gulped as much as the strangle-hold on her neck would allow. "Yes, my Lady, of course. I'll go right now."

Breathing heavily, limbs shaking from the effort it took not to take the idiot Brit's head off, Aurelia tossed her violently out the bathroom door with an odd, strangled noise of disapproval. Trix scrambled away, no doubt terrified and more than willing to listen to orders now that she had been suitably whipped into submission. Christ, would she be surrounded by blithering, incompetent nitwits her entire fucking existence? Jaw clenched like a bear-trap and fingers visibly shaking, Aurelia turned to look at the little human girl still trembling in the corner.

She was still crying. But at least she had covered her eyes, dimples on chubby hands shielding those haunting blue orbs from view. And preventing the child from figuring out what exactly they were, but that was neither here nor there. Aurelia stood there for a long moment, not knowing exactly what to do.

(go ask her what's wrong help her find her parents something except standing there like a gaping nit-wit)

(you're not helping dammit)

Another deep breath. Fingers clenched. She was a knight, a soldier, meant to keep on marching on with her head down until the work was done. She could handle a tiny human child. Removing the Ray Bans from her eyes, the teenager knelt in front of the traumatized girl and managed not to wrinkle her nose at the thought that she was resting on something so unsavory as a lavatory floor. Because blood and dirt was an entirely different animal compared to urine and feces. It was why she didn't visit the dungeons nearly as often as Mother thought she should.

(liar.)

(fuck off)

"Are you quite alright, little one?" she crooned. English tasted awkward in her mouth, always had, but this little girl was obviously not accustomed to speaking any other language so it would have to do.

The child started. Those big blue eyes appeared from behind her chubby hands, shock-stricken and terrified and oddly curious. Aurelia had never really been around children, but there was something rather endearing about the expression so she allowed just the barest hint of a smile to curve her lips. It seemed to work. The little girl seemed to relax just the slightest, staring at her with caution rather than terror. It was a start.

" 'm alright," the girl whispered. She was little, her speech still impeded by baby teeth and a growing brain. "T'anks for sabin' me, pretty lady."

Aurelia tilted her head, on high-alert for any upir that might be in the area, and whispered, "You're welcome, little one. Do you need help? Are you lost?"

The tears welled up again. Oh, shit, she wasn't ready for this! Not crying, no crying, please goddammit! Panicking more than a little - though it was a very quiet, composed panic - the princess leaned forward and placed a hand atop the girl's bright blonde curls. They were soft to the touch, and it seemed to work wonders because the small child managed to keep herself from sobbing incoherently.

Point one for Aurelia.

"I c-can' f-f-find my M-m-o-ommy!" the child gasped.

"Alright," the princess crooned. "We shall go and find your mother. Come on."

Graceful and elegant, the older girl rose from her crouch and extended a delicate hand towards the still-sniffling child at her feet. The little girl grasped it, pulse fluttering against her palm, and they walked out of the silent room together. Violet eyes scanned the massive airport for any sign of a security guard or policeman. The place had been positively crawling earlier, so there was bound to be some form of authority that she could leave the little girl with. Eventually, her keen gaze locked onto a group of men in security uniforms, badges glinting, and she gently tugged the child along.

"What's your name?"

The question was sudden and unexpected, but Aurelia was surprisingly unfazed. "My name is Aurelia Tepes. What is yours?"

"My name's Chloe. Mommy likes ta call me Doodlebug, 'cause she's weird like t'at. You gots a pretty name. It sounds like sunshine!"

Aurelia could't help but chuckle at the statement, and she replied, "It means 'golden' so you're somewhat correct, little one."

Little Chloe's face scrunched up a tad. She squeezed the princess's hand just a tad bit tighter, blue eyes sparkling. "How come you talk so funny?"

"How do you know that I speak oddly?" Aurelia questioned solemnly, just barely keeping from laughing at the frank child. "Perhaps it is you who doesn't speak like everyone else. Have you considered that?"

The child sighed heavily. "Now my brain hurts!" she exclaimed.

Again, Aurelia chuckled, slowing to a stop just before they reached the security guards. She knelt down before the little girl and straightened out her crumpled sun dress, smoothed down her flyaway curls. Chloe wrinkled her button nose at the primping. But she didn't fight it, obviously accustomed to someone making her look presentable in such a manner. Instead, she watched the ebony-haired girl curiously. There was something in the expression that relaxed the princess's normally tense shoulders, and she focused on the task of making the child look like she hadn't been accosted by a psychotic upir in an abandoned toilet-room. Eventually, she deemed her work satisfactory.

"There, all done."

"You still haben't answered me," Chloe pointed out quietly. "How come you talk like that?"

Aurelia tilted her head to the side. "I am from a country called Romania, and I did not learn to speak English right away. Because of this, my words sound a little bit different than yours. Does that make sense, little one?"

Apparently, it did, because the little girl nodded, smiling brightly. It made Aurelia's throat constrict, but she managed to smile right back.

(wow, three whole smiles in one day that's got to be a record)

(i repeat; fuck off)

"Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully, Chloe. Can you do that for me?" When she received a solemn nod, the princess continued. "You are going to walk up to those nice men in uniforms over there - the ones with the shiny badges - and you are going to tell them that you cannot find your mother. They will take you to find her. Can you be brave and do that for me?"

Chloe bit her lip, eyes shining, and for a split second Aurelia feared that the waterworks would begin anew. But they didn't, thankfully. Rather, the chubby, blonde-haired tot lurched forward and wrapped her arms around the upir's neck, heedless of the danger her actions were putting her in. The princess stiffened like a corpse. She didn't know how to handle this! Blood and gore she could handle. Insults? Treason? No problem! But physical affection? That was something Mother had deemed illogical and unnecessary and it just did not happen in Castle Draculi. Eventually, she managed to lift her arms and place them around the tiny body pressed against her own. The heartbeat thrumming under her palms was small, energetic, erratic. But not afraid.

It kind of felt. . . . nice.

"I've neber had a big sister a'fore," Chloe whispered. "But I t'ink t'at you'd be real good at it. T'ank you for sabin' me."

Aurelia choked on the lump in her throat. She squeezed just a little bit, inhaling the scent of strawberry shampoo and Gummi Bears that clung to the tot. "You're very welcome."

She let go of the girl and gently pushed her forward. "Now, you need to go. I'm sure your Mommy is very worried about you."

One more bright smile. Then Chloe was gone, racing towards the security officers with her yellow sun dress fluttering and sandals slapping on the tile.

(we weren't ever like that were we?)

(no. we weren't)

When Chloe Sanchez was returned to her sobbing mother, she proceeded to ramble on about a pretty lady - a big sister - who saved her from a crazy red-eyed lady in the bathroom, and that she needed to have a little brother or sister right away so she could be just like "Big Sister Auwelia."

Her mother was very confused.

And Chloe was very sad, because when they tried to find someone of that name in the airport, nothing remained but hordes of sweaty humans. No pretty ladies with purple eyes and a red outfit and a weird way of saying stuff.

Maybe it had all been a dream. . . .

But maybe it hadn't.

Because Chloe could still smell Aurelia on her sundress from when she hugged her, vanilla and sugar.

"Remind me again why we are listening to Lord Frick-face?" Eddie snarled. "Because this seems extreme to me. And I don't like him."

Adrianna rarely lost her temper. In fact, she could probably still count the number of times she had on both hands. But Eddie and his attitude - no matter how endearing it could be - was beginning to approach the Danger Zone threshold. So she took a deep breath, pausing in the middle of folding her son's hooded sweatshirt, and fixed him with a lethal glare.

"We are listening because that is what we need to do to stay alive, Edward," the petite red-head nearly growled. "Now stop complaining and do as you are told. We do not have much time before Serge returns with the cab."

For what it was worth, Eddie looked suitably chastised despite the scowl that he still wore. He finished stuffing his old football cleats into his gym bag along with several other pairs of shoes and articles of clothing. They were going to have to leave his other things behind, posters and even his comic book collection. That last one broke his heart and pissed him off in equal measures. But his mom was insistent; they had to travel lightly because they were going to move a lot.

Damn upir bastards.

"Where'd Howie go, anyways?" Eddie huffed impatiently. "You've hovered over me for the past two hours and I haven't seen him since Lord Over-bite left. Doesn't he have to pack?"

"Really, Eddie, 'Lord Over-bite?'" Adrianna teased. "I thought you more creative than that."

The tall boy groaned heartily and tossed the pillow he was trying to pack at the back of her head. "C'mon, Mom, you won't even let me swear! How am I supposed to insult him if I can't use bad language?"

"Think creatively, darling. It should be nice to use your brain for a change."

Eddie pouted for a moment - his mom was a savage when she wanted to be - but then realized that she had just effectively deflected his question without him realizing it. Damm; she was good. He strode over and plucked the pillow from where it had fallen on the floor beside his bed, glaring at the poster of Jon Snow on the cracked plaster beside him. It glared right back with dark eyes that seemed to say 'try me bitch.'

"You still haven't answered my question," Eddie declared. "Where's Howie?"

Adrianna stilled once more, hands fisted in the soft cotton of a Joker graphic tee. Her shoulders were taught. He could see her shaking, trembling with frayed nerves and indecision, and it immediately made the teen feel guilty. What was the point in having your questions answered if all it did was make the person answering them absolutely fucking miserable? Answer? There was no point. Not in this. Not in the violence and the running and the anxiety. Not in the scars and the nightmares and the lies that they had to tell everyone.

We're fine.

We're getting help. Nope, nothing wrong, no siree, we're just peachy goddamn keen. Sunshine and unicorns shooting out our asses and gummi bears for teeth. We're absolutely not having nightmares about blood on pavement and screams and weirdos with red eyes. We aren't bitter and angry and in debt to the woman who we once really disliked and kind of feared because we thought she was a vampire. Turns out we were right, but that really doesn't matter because guess what?

We're just goddamn fine.

Eddie snarled at himself. Then he sighed. "Mama, I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm just. . . . being me, I guess."

She was still shaking, but Adrianna turned and smiled at her son. "If you were anything but you, copil, I would worry even more. Howie finished packing everything he wanted to take before you got started. He's with his father right now, patching up some loose ends."

The red-headed boy frowned. "What do you mean 'patching up some loose ends?' We can't legally take him with us, right? That'd be kidnapping, and I'm pretty sure you're not a kidnapper."

Joker's face distorted and crumpled beneath the power of Adrianna Tepes's nerves. "Do you remember what I told you about Enchanters, love? About how they can influence the minds of upirs and mortals alike?"

Eddie nodded. His mother continued. "Well, Howie has gone to wipe his father's memory of having a son, and to make him sign over custody to me."

Silence rang through the air like a funeral dirge.

"Holy shit," Eddie breathed. "He can do that?"

Adrianna nodded mutely and forgot to chastise her son over his language. "This is not a happy situation, fiul (son). And I wish I could change the circumstances, really I do. But there is simply nothing to be done except the worst. It is a necessary cruelty."

They finished packing Eddie's copious amounts of clothing - including Christmas presents - into the few suitcases and bags they had. Everything was quiet, even the old manor that creaked and groaned furiously. Eventually, Eddie's eyes strayed to the other Game of Thrones poster he had hanging above his bed. Arya Stark stared back in black and white.

Valar Morghulis

He couldn't think of a better phrase.

Howie sat in front of his father.

No, that wasn't quite right. At least, not anymore.

After all the work he had put in, all the effort and Gift-power that had flowed, he was sitting in front of Richard Jones. Who was the head scientist at F.A.T.S. Who was divorced only once and married to his work, the physics of the stars. Who loved basketball and playing Call of Duty when no one thought to pay attention and eating greasy fast food that would kill him before he was sixty. Richard Jones, with his slim build and thick glasses and thinning blonde hair, who perpetually smelled of chemicals and the heavy fabric used to make lab coats.

The man who didn't have a son.

Howie felt his heart break a little more as his father - who had loved him through all the nightmares and the dissociation and the scars - stared at him blankly. There was no recognition. None. Of course, that had been the ultimate goal. The blonde teenager had always aspired to be more like Hermione Granger than any of the characters in the books he'd read, simply because Hermione had more common sense and intelligence than any of the other role-models kids seemed to possess. And her logic had been sound in wiping her parents' memories.

But he hadn't counted on it hurting quite this much.

Well, maybe he did, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

"I am going to walk out that door," Howie droned, his voice multilayered and shimmering with his Enchantment. "And when I do, you are going to wake up and live your life normally. There is no Howie Jones. You have no son. Do you understand?"

Richard nodded. "Yes."

Howie's lip was bleeding; he'd bitten right through it.

Leaning forward, the blonde upir, all of fourteen and shattered quite thoroughly, pressed a kiss to his father's forehead in a parody of his childhood bedtimes. Tears leaked from the edges of his eyes. He sucked in air through his teeth to keep from crying.

"I love you, Dad. I'm really sorry about all this."

Richard Jones awoke the next morning and went to work completely normally.

He had an excellent day tracking quantum fluxes and tracking planetary movements relative to certain stars.

But, when he returned home and stared at the bare, neutral walls of his home, he couldn't help but feel like something was missing.

Thankfully, Serge had managed to procure them two separate vehicles for travel, a late-model Ford Expedition for her and the boys, and a Prius for himself.

Eddie had a field-day watching the 6'8" Serge trying to squeeze himself into the minuscule car, jeering and leering in a manner almost reminiscent of his personality before this whole fiasco began. However, there was an underlying cruelty to his jokes that stood out in comparison to the light-hearted pranks and teasing he used to partake in. The juxtaposition cut Adrianna deeply, like a physical wound, and she'd had to swallow the knot in her throat several times to keep from sobbing outright.

And then there was Howie.

Her poor boy hadn't said a word since he'd come back from his father's home. He just sat, motionless, in the front seat and stared out at the road with lifeless eyes. He wasn't seeing. He wasn't thinking. He just kind of . . . was, if any sense could be found in the observation.

To be quite honest, the petite woman didn't think her nerves could handle any more surprises in the near future, and she'd nearly shredded the leather of the steering wheel when a deer had suddenly popped into their headlights. Though, she was rather pleased that they didn't have to ride in the same vehicle as Serge on their way to whatever safe-house he'd managed to line up for them.

Her nerves were already shot.

She didn't need to add any more latent fury atop them.

Eventually, after about two-and-a-half hours of driving, Eddie had run out of jokes to level at Serge and had fallen asleep, sprawled across the back with two different seat-belts contorted around his midriff. He snored. Loudly. But it was a familiar, comforting sound. Because there weren't quiet whimpers and screams intermixed with the loud inhaling snores. Adrianna was still wound tighter than a two-inch spring. Howie still hadn't said a word.

But it was something.

At least, until Howie did finally speak.

"Adri, I have a question."

This time, the steering wheel was not lucky enough to avoid mutilation. There were four identical gouges in the cheap leather from her nails, and they nearly ran off the side of the road.

Adrianna tried to swallow her heart again. "Iisus (Jesus), Howie! You startled me."

He stared back at her solemnly. "Sorry; I didn't think it would scare you that bad."

Fingers shaking and pulse thundering, Adri turned her attention back to the road and followed Serge out onto the Interstate. "No, dragă (sweetheart), it isn't your fault. I am simply on edge after today's. . . events. What is it you would like to ask?"

"Why is your sister after you and Eddie?"

The steering wheel groaned in agony.

"What?"

Howie locked onto her with fathomless blue eyes. They glowed in the dark confines of the Expedition, ice in the middle of the ocean. "Please don't make me say it again. I think we have a right to know. I'll tell Eddie so you don't have to say it again, but we need to know why everything happened. Why we're actually trusting him instead of being home in bed."

For a moment, Adrianna nearly forgot that Howie was still considered a child. Only fourteen. But he was so calm, so composed and logical. It wouldn't make sense until one examined all the events that had transpired within the last two months. And then it made more sense. That didn't mean the stare was less unnerving, though. Every part of Adri's body trembled, but she kept control of the car, eyes on the road and hands at ten and two.

"If I tell you, you cannot tell Eddie," she whispered. "You have to promise me."

Howie frowned. "Why?"

"Promise me!" Adri very nearly snarled it, and Howie leaned back just a hair, nodding frantically.

"Okay! I promise!"

Managing to calm down, Adrianna returned her attention to the asphalt and tried to keep a respectable distance behind Serge. She swallowed thickly, jaw working. "You have to understand that the upir are an old people, Howie. We have had laws and customs passed down for hundreds of generations. They are not to be taken lightly, not even by the royalty who enforce them, and the consequences are severe when those laws are disregarded. Do you understand so far?"

He nodded. She continued. "One of the laws that upir have followed for centuries is that we do not, under any circumstances, procreate with humans. We cannot marry them unless they are turned, and even our human friends must remain unaware of our existence lest our species be discovered. So when I met Eddie's father in college, the relationship was understandably kept very very secret."

"Wait a minute, hold on," Howie interrupted. "What has this got to do with your sister trying to kill us?"

"Listen and you'll figure it out. Now, after about four months into my relationship with Eddie's father, I came to the realization that I was pregnant. Which was a disaster on multiple levels, not only because I had broken one of the most heavily-enforced laws of my people, but because I was already betrothed to Serge. There was only so long I could hide the baby. And I didn't have many options. Half-upir children are not viable to be adopted out because they have special dietary needs at the beginning of their lives. So, I could either keep Eddie and flee Romania or terminate the pregnancy. That was it. And I had to think quickly before anyone found out about it." The steering wheel screamed again. "I didn't think quickly enough."

"A few weeks after I had found out about it, Serge came to visit me unexpectedly. I did not have time to mask my scent. He smelled it right away. Honestly, I don't blame him for being so angry with me. Serge is many things, but he was always faithful to me, and I took whatever trust he had in me and threw it all away. All for a human I barely knew."

"Yeah, why did you end up with Eddie's dad, anyway?" Howie whispered. "The guy was a jerk."

Adrianna smiled thinly. "There's always that bad-boy allure that girls talk about, my sweet. And he had certain moments where he was just so sweet I couldn't help but love him. So I begged Serge not to tell anyone, as I was Crown Princess and heir to the throne. And my father was a very unforgiving man, almost as ruthless as Ioana. He promised not to tell on the condition that I got rid of the baby."

For a long moment, Adri was silent, and Howie nearly regretted asking the question as he watched her body shake.

"But I just couldn't do it. How could I? He may have been accidental, but this was my baby. How could he ask me to just throw him away? I told Serge as much. He was livid, and before I could even think to try and stop him he ran off. And he told Ioana exactly what was going on. My sister was shocked; however, she was equally opportunistic. She used the information to tell my father. I was exiled and stripped of my royal titles. Ioana was named the Crown Princess. And I left with James and Eddie.

"Shortly after that, my sister killed my father and assumed the throne herself. But Ioana isn't well, and she thinks that I will one day return to take the throne back, regardless of our father's decision to exile me. Not to mention Ioana has been jealous of me ever since we were little girls. So she has made it her goal to find me and Eddie - and now, by extension, you - and Destroy us so that there will be no one to usurp her reign."

The silence hung heavy around them.

Howie sat, stunned, numb. Holy crap, she was a fucking QUEEN. A Queen! And she had been a princess. With lots of money and power and influence in her world.

And she had given it all up for Eddie.

"So does this mean me and Eddie are princes now?" he blurted. "Because that would be super freakin' cool."

The tension leeched from Adrianna's shoulders and she chuckled at him. "It's 'Eddie and I', dear. And you two have always been princes. You just didn't know it."

Neither of them noticed Eddie crying in the backseat.

He had heard every word.

It was his fault . . . .

A/N: Holy shit, that was a doozy! And two chapters that aren't spaced nearly three or four months apart WHAATT?

I'm kind of proud of this, actually, because I alternated between writing this out and studying for a genetics test I had today. And I slayed the shit out of both of them. Fuck yeah.

But anyway, I hope you guys liked this. Next chapter will involve our motley crue (you see what I did there? didja?) arriving at their new safe-house, Aurelia arriving in Bailey City, and general amounts of fuckery from our lovely resident psychopath in Romania! So be prepared, peeps, for Winter is Coming.

Christ I need to sleep.

Lots of love,
BlackRosePoetry