All my love and gratitude to She-Devil Red, Scarlet Empress, and inkmagpie for the reviews this week. Thank you for always being so kind and supportive.
We've got our final Dracul Sânge interview ahead! And a few other little surprises.
ENJOY!
Copyright © 2021 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 8
Tempest Hambly
Frankie's personal preparations before an interview had become nearly ritualistic in nature. In addition to the countless hours of research, study, and those long walks she'd take during the daylight hours when rest evaded her, it was the time spent in meditation the day of that proved the most beneficial. That distraction-free hour of absolute silence not only granted her the chance to mentally review all she had learned – organizing thoughts, questions, and impressions – it also provided an opportunity to mentally and even emotionally prepare herself for the task ahead.
Interviewing a stranger was easy. Questions to ask were always prepared in advance and being well-over four centuries old practically guaranteed her ability to maintain a conversation with just about anyone. It was the taking on of the life-memories of another person, however – particularly when that individual happened to be immortal – that proved the burden; especially for someone as damaged as Frankie.
Learning how to manage the lifetimes of others had been a struggle after she had discovered her unusual gift, shortly after being marked by Mariella Bernardini. Despite the initial challenge, though, she had risen to the occasion, learning how to cope with and, more importantly, how to control and use her gift for good.
But when Marcus Augustine had wreaked havoc on her mental, emotional, and even physical wellbeing, he had undone decades of hard work, leaving her to manage the lingering side effects even to this day. The personal cost to Frankie had been far-reaching, Augustine's evil rippling and tainting nearly every aspect of her life. Yet, despite the oft unseen scarring she sustained, it had been the art of self-mastery that had aided her in reclaiming control over her life. Meditation allowed her to better prepare for those instances when she would not have as much control as she would have preferred, and, historically speaking, it helped to quiet the anxieties of her mind more effectively than anything else she had come across.
It had been trial and error, of course.
The last four times she had conducted interviews with the Dracul Sânge in particular, something hadn't gone according to plan in one way or another; but this time would be different.
Frankie had had over eight months to plan and prepare for her interview with Tempest Hambly – eight months of study, rumination and pondering, the meticulous review and re-reviewing of the previous interviews with the four elder siblings. Drawing connections, creating timelines, putting the pieces of the very intricate puzzle together, all while being more diligent in feeding so she could keep her strength up, minimizing the risk of succumbing to blood-rage after she would absorb Tempest's memories.
Yes, for the first time since she had begun this series of interviews with the children of her intended, Frankie Chase found herself void of fear or anxiety when it came to the scheduled events of the evening. If anything, she was looking forward to them.
She left her parked vehicle in its usual place in the south side, climbing out of the car with a smile when she noticed Tristan waiting for her at the end of the alley that would take them underground.
He was leaning against the old brickwork, his familiar grin a welcoming sight.
"Am I late?" she asked, knowing perfectly well she was actually early. The werewolf's smirk broadened.
"I always had the impression that it was physically impossible for you to be tardy for anything," he stated with a meaningful look as she made her way over to him.
"I just wasn't expecting to be escorted by royalty," she mocked with a sly grin and a little bow of her head, making him laugh.
"My brother-in-law actually wanted to be the one to wait for you, but convincing Isabella that it was safer for him to stay underground with everyone else proved far too easy," Tristan explained.
"Look at you, being so manipulative," Frankie answered as though she were proud of him. "You keep this up and you'll dethrone your sister in no time."
"Don't say that too loud."
"You know I'm only teasing. Although I'm intrigued now – you said it would be safer?" she queued, falling into step beside him. "You haven't been having issues over here, have you?"
"It's nothing to concern yourself with," the werewolf prince assured her. "Besides, you have enough on your plate as it is."
"What's going on, Tristan? Tell me. Are you being threatened?"
"Outside of the usual prejudice towards my kind? No – nothing of that sort. But we did catch a couple of Augustine's spies snooping around last week."
"What were they looking for?"
"Their true intentions remain a mystery, but there is a belief amongst the elders that they were trying to gauge where our numbers are at. Bella thinks their motives may be a bit more nefarious, though."
Frankie followed his train of thought with ease.
"She thinks they know about Zeke."
"Yes. After Louise and Jack were discovered in the city with you a few months back, Zeke mentioned that every time Jack has reentered the city, he's ended up with a tail."
"So you think the trespassers last week were looking for signs that you were harboring the Dracul Sânge?"
"Or permitting them unlawful entry into Budapest, yes."
Frankie cursed under her breath.
"I'm suddenly regretting having this interview tonight," she confessed, but Tristan was quick to offer comfort.
"Don't," he interjected gently. "Augustine has no proof of our involvement – only a suspicion – and he knows he cannot act against us without evidence or cause. Not without risking our retribution. No, this is the safest place in the city right now for the Dracul Sânge – so long as they stay underground and out of sight. Only those closest to myself and Bella know of their presence here anyway."
"I'm grateful for your willingness to grant me a place to meet with Tempest. Especially now that I know the risk involved, the sacrifice you could all be making…"
"It's nothing to worry yourself over," he insisted. "Truly. After the incident last year with the invisible and Anna-Sophie, our security is better than it has ever been. There's no safer place in all of Budapest for you to be than right here."
Frankie smiled.
"Glad some things haven't changed," she admitted. "So Zeke is here?"
"Yes. I recommended he join us for our meeting with the elders this evening to discuss the future – while you and Tempest have your little interview. I figured it would be good for him to join us, since he's Bella's husband and the eldest son of Dracul… though that last bit I'm still admittedly adjusting to."
"It must be strange, having him as a relation through your sister."
"Yes. His majesty seems to find his way into the lives of all the women I care about."
She noted the hint of resentment in his tone and she opened her mouth to offer a comment, but he stopped her before she could even begin to apologize for something that wasn't her fault.
"Tristan…"
"I know – it's not like he's inserting himself into our lives on purpose, though I must admit it's a challenge not to take it personally." While the words were spoken with a degree of mirth, Frankie knew him well enough to grasp the layers of doubt and antipathy underneath his humor. She took his arm for a moment as their pace slowed.
She said his name again, in earnest this time as if she were searching for something.
"I'm only teasing," he maintained, but she tugged on his bicep, her gaze pointed.
"Are you sure?" she asked, clearly not convinced.
The intensity of her gaze spoke volumes to him – she was trying to make him out, attempting to gauge if he was just being courteous or truthful. It had taken her years to learn how to accurately read the eyes of the man at her side; and the last half-decade apart had left her woefully out of practice. Instinct was telling her that despite the revelation of his lingering feelings for her a few months prior and the time that had passed since then, while Tristan had moved on, at least on the surface, there was something in the way he rested his hand over hers on his arm that suggested he was not quite out of the woods just yet.
She watched as this towering alpha at her right exhaled heavily, as if internally coming to terms with his reality.
The woman beside him was destined to be the undying bride of the reputed son of the devil, and the dragon's eldest son had been mated to his sister, the queen of the Budapest wolves. It had been different when Frankie had been openly against the betrothal, but with every passing day she seemed to become more accepting of her fate – or resigned to it, he could not quite tell. But her willingness to establish relationships with the children of her intended, and her genuine concern at their well-being… Tristan had known eight months ago that night at Carmen's that Frankie would never be his again, but in this moment, with the stunning pair of blue orbs he had once adored now looking up at him with concern, he knew.
As much as he may have wished, things could never go back to the way they were.
He had found himself becoming more and more resigned to the thought, but it was always easier to accept it when he wasn't alone with the woman like he was now.
The familiarity, the effortless ebb and flow between them… the history, the trust.
Tristan squeezed her hand and managed a smile.
"I promise," he said at last.
She said nothing in return, merely nodding in acquiescence.
The pair continued along their descent in a steady back and forth of less heavy topics and the tension from earlier gradually dissipated, Frankie managing to find her rhythm again.
"So how is Raul doing these days?" she inquired after the exchanging of a few harmless pleasantries. "It's strange not having him around as often as he had been before."
"Not too bad, given the circumstances, although between you and I, I've rather missed having Lyra around. She certainly knows how to liven up a room."
"Yes, her lack of a filter definitely aids in that department," Frankie chuckled. "It's a pity she and Raul chose to end things, though honestly I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did."
"As am I. For as long as I've known him, Raul has never been much of the committing type. But it didn't take him long to go back to his old habits."
"I'm sure the ladies are grateful for that."
He laughed.
"From what I've overheard, they definitely are," he confirmed in a way that was almost bashful. "But I do believe he misses her from time to time."
"I think Lyra feels very much the same, though she's yet to admit as much."
"I'm just glad that when my sister caught wind of it, she didn't try to alienate the pack from the alliance again like she did after we…"
"Oh, definitely!" she answered hastily in agreement. "But given that she knows who Zeke's father is…"
"And, by extension, who her future mother-in-law is going to be…" and he sent her a knowing smirk. "I suppose that would make the inevitable family gatherings awkward. To tell you the truth, I've been thinking about this whole you being betrothed to Dracula thing a lot lately and I realized something the other day. Does this mean Anna-Sophie should start calling you grandmamma?"
Frankie smacked his arm in response as his amusement resonated in the air around them.
"That's not funny."
"I'm still having trouble imagining you as a grandmother."
"Yes, well, that makes two of us," she said with a little huff, her arms which had previously been resting at her sides now folded over her chest in an unconscious display of defense. Taking pity on her, he opted to change to subject.
"So when is the annual trip to France?"
"Rémy and I leave at the end of the week."
"I assume your usual entourage will be in attendance?"
"With everything going on right now, the usual suspects are on the fence. The only ones locked in are Vesper and Carmen. I think the final list will all depend on how things go with the blood factory. If things go south, I could easily see everyone staying behind to run things while Rémy and I are away, since we can't exactly get out of going."
"So it may end up being just the two of you and Vesper?" he inquired, sounding surprised.
"Yes. Lyra's been in contact with Jacob since he returned to the city, as I'm sure you know, so she's trying to help him bring in the broken factions of other rebel groups into the fold. And Carmen, if she ends up staying behind, will run alliance HQ affairs with Danny."
"I'm surprised your brother has agreed to go in the first place, given all that's going on right now."
"Armand is combining his annual summer masque with Aunt Cece's birthday memorial this year, since it would have been her four-hundred and fiftieth birthday. He wants all of the family there."
"Ah yes, the de Chacier clan. And how are your cousins? Alayna still as uncommitted as ever?"
"Yes! Poor Alastair. The man still worships the ground she walks on, though between the two of us, his hope is a fool's hope."
He chuckled. "She kind of reminds me Raul and Lyra in that sense – loves to flirt."
"And has trouble grasping the concept of monogamy. It's true. Although I'd see her settling down before Lyra ever does."
"Do you remember the first time I visited France with you guys and you sicced Alayna on me?"
"When I did what? I did no such thing!"
But Frankie's insistence fell on deaf ears as her old lover began to tease her, mocking her past mode of speech.
"Oh Alayna, why don't you give Tristan the grand tour of the house!" Frankie blushed as he continued. "And then ten minutes later, she's trying to seduce me. But I passed your test, madam, and with flying colors."
Her smile grew modest.
"I wasn't testing you," she maintained, though it was clear not even she believed her own assertions. "But I do remember being quite impressed that you had had the fortitude to resist her. Alayna's beauty has always been unrivaled."
"I can't argue with that. All the beauty of a goddess without any of the pretense."
"So if I invited you to join us, are you saying you'd want another tour of the house?" she asked tartly.
"Oh, don't tempt me, Francesca!" he exclaimed dramatically. "I don't think I could say no a second time!"
Frankie laughed.
"Well you have my blessing if the need ever rises in you," she replied archly. "But in all seriousness, even if I had sicced her on you once upon a time, could you blame me for wanting to be sure of your feelings for me?"
"Just because you still hadn't come to trust me entirely at the time is no excuse for catfishing," was his pointed reply. She shrugged, conceding.
"Fair enough."
"Besides, for all of your cousin's virtues – and they are many," he added with what Frankie could have sworn was a small sigh, "you'll recall she wasn't the one I wanted at the time."
Frankie smiled in reminisce as she recalled the events of the past.
"Yes… if you are anything, Tristan, it is loyal. I only hope my intended is half as devoted as you were."
"If he's not, I have a sneaking suspicion your brother and I will be fighting to be first in line to set the man straight," he chuckled deviously.
"Not if I get to him first," she proclaimed, amused at the thought of putting the great Vladislaus Drăculea in his place and wondering just how she'd do it.
"So you've accounted for nearly everyone except for that Leinhart fellow of yours. Will he be going to France as well?"
Frankie felt her undead heart leap up into her throat for barely a second – in a bought of anxiety or excitement, she could hardly discern the difference – but she was quick to collect herself, smiling with an expression of practiced indifference.
"Why would Vlad Leinhart need to go to France?"
The line was delivered with expert innocence and would have fooled anyone witnessing their exchange, but Tristan had felt her stiffen beneath his arm, which was presently resting over her shoulders. He had to bite his tongue to keep from chuckling.
"Well, considering who he is, I figured it would make sense that you'd bring him along to meet the family…"
Frankie halted abruptly which left him at least a step or two ahead before he turned around to look back. Tristan was fully prepared to tease her, but the expression she was wearing had his smile fading just a little. He had anticipated her surprise, but not the concern that was now lightly creasing her brow.
"How long have you known?" she asked him.
He merely shrugged as if the revelation was old news.
"I've had my suspicions for a while – since the incident with Vivian," he admitted, "but it wasn't until recently that Isabella was able to confirm them. She told me everything after she talked to Zeke about you doing your interview down here." He chuckled a little in response to Frankie's dumbfounded expression. "Don't look so surprised. Besides, I have it on good authority that you've known who he is for months now."
"How could you possibly…"
"We've known each other for well-over half a century, woman – and we were together for at least a fifth of that. Even you are prone to being predictable on occasion, despite your best efforts to remain a mystery."
He waited for her to confirm his suspicions, but she said nothing. This secretly disappointed him, but he never let it on.
"You and your secrets; I swear."
"You haven't told anyone else, have you?" she asked, not having picked up on his thinly veiled accusation.
"No. No, of course I haven't. I know you, Frankie. If you wanted people to know who he was, you would have told everyone by now. The fact that you've kept this so hushed up from even the likes of Lyra or Carmen, let alone your brother, says a lot."
Although the woman's eyes hadn't moved from his face, it was like she was looking beyond him now, lost in her own head – a state he hadn't witnessed her in for a very long time.
"Lyra can't keep a secret to save her life half the time and she lacks the ability to be objective. And Carmen… I love her, but she meddles," she explained quietly. "As for my brother… well, that negates explanation."
"I guess it does. Bella was telling me she couldn't understand why you would keep something like that a secret, but I figured it was because – since Dracula and the prophecy impacts you the most – you wanted to do this on your own terms, which meant keeping everyone else in the dark. If there was one thing about your personality that has always remained a constant over the years, it's your sense of autonomy."
Tristan's ease at reading her mind pulled her out of her own thoughts as she looked at him again.
She had forgotten how wonderful and strange it was to be so well understood, abrogating the need for explanation. It was a level of intimacy she hadn't shared with anyone in her life that wasn't already a blood relation and a part of her wondered if Dracula would ever come to comprehend her the way Tristan did.
The man seemed to translate her silence with ease, answering it with a reassuring smile.
"So does this mean you'll have him undergo the Alayna test, too, if he ends up coming along?" he asked, hoping his playful mockery would get her to smile.
The corner of her lips twitched just faintly, but her brows were still knitted seriously over pensive eyes.
"He doesn't know who I am," she explained, feeling oddly liberated being able to say any of this out loud, "nor does he know that I know his true identity. Sometimes I even wonder if he's aware of the prophecy in the first place. If he was, you'd think he would have… I don't know, done something at this point."
"Maybe he does know," the werewolf replied. "If what I've heard of Dracula is at all accurate, the man probably knows a lot more than he's letting on."
"You think so?"
"He's a reputed tactician, and his instincts are stuff of legend – won't do or commit to anything unless it serves some greater purpose."
"What purpose would it serve to pretend to be someone else?"
"Maybe he thinks it's the only way for the two of you to get to know one another without your legendary prejudice getting in the way."
Frankie smiled that time, his blatantly pointed look serving as a proverbial smack upside the head she so desperately needed.
"Well, whatever his reasons, the answer to your previous question is no – he's not coming to France with us. If anything, I plan to use those ten weeks to figure out what the hell I'm going to do," she admitted.
They soon arrived at the very heart of the lycan community – the underground market. Weaving effortlessly through the mass of werewolves – most of which were in their human form – granted Frankie a chance to momentarily distract herself, picking up on the tail-ends of a number of conversations, but never stopping to listen further as she followed Tristan to the tunnel that would lead them to the royal hall.
When they passed by the throne room, Frankie quickly conjured up old memories of layout of a place she had once known so well, secretly attempting to gauge where the werewolf prince was taking her before he could reveal the destination. A number of stairs and beautifully crafted stone halls later, she noticed Zeke at the opposite end of a corridor headed in their direction. Those brilliant green eyes of his were quick to light up when he noticed Frankie ahead.
He called out her name in greeting.
The woman extended her hand on instinct, unable to keep from smiling as he bent down and lightly kissed her knuckles affectionately.
"It has been far too long," the eldest son of Dracul announced, and though Frankie cordially agreed and exchanged pleasantries with the man, for the first time in her life she began to notice little nuanced similarities between Zeke and his father.
Though not biologically related, his straight, dark hair reminded her of her intended, as did the dark brows resting over intense eyes, the strong hands and broad shoulders. In this light they could have been brothers, or perhaps even cousins at the very least, though the age in Vlad's eyes was infinitely more noticeable. But was it age, she quietly wondered to herself, or experience?
"I'd love to escort you the rest of the way so we can catch up, but I'm afraid Bella actually sent me to fetch you, Tristan," and Zeke's attention turned to the werewolf. "The meeting with elders is scheduled to start in five minutes."
"Damn it, I forgot. We'll walk down together. Frankie, you remember the way to Valerio's old study, don't you?"
"Yes, I still know the way," she assured him as the two men began to head in the direction she had just come from.
"Bella said you guys can use that room. If you need anything, just tell Jack. I told him to wait out in the hall for you just in case you got lost," Ezekiel called out.
Before Frankie could ask why Jack was here with Tempest at all when Zeke's presence should have been enough, the farewells were quickly exchanged and the woman was left to proceed down the corridor alone. It wasn't long before she reached the wing of the underground lycan palace reserved for the royal family and after turning a corner that would lead her to the old king's private study she came across a familiar face.
As promised, Jack was out in the hall awaiting her arrival. His attention, however, was fixed on his mobile phone rather than his general surroundings, the man texting furiously, fingers flying. It wasn't until she was a mere foot from his person that he finally realized he had company at all. His eyes went wide in astonishment as he quickly switched off the display of his phone, shoving it into his pocket with an expression of surprise and… guilt at being caught?
"Francesca!" he called out, clearly taken off guard. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Not long," she answered with a suspicious look in the direction of his pocket before she met his gaze more fully. "I'm surprised to see you here, given your brother…"
"Yes, but you know me. Always eager to see you, even if for a moment," he interrupted. "You're looking well."
His shameless attempt to turn the attention over to her own person was not lost to Frankie.
"Thank you," was the only answer she offered him, her gaze fixed as she waited for some kind of explanation. Jack shuffled a little uncomfortably at first, as if he were racking his brain for an excuse to offer her.
"I apologize for not noting your arrival sooner. I fear I was rather distracted."
"I could see that."
"I was speaking with Antón."
"Ah! And how is Signore Bernardini? Well, I hope?"
"He's all right, I suppose. A bit of a nag, if you ask me…"
"I'm glad to hear he's well. You'll extend my regards to him?" she asked slyly when his phone vibrated angrily in his pocket. Jack's smile was sheepish.
"Maybe later. That needy Italian can wait. I should introduce you to my sister so you two can get the evening started," and he motioned toward the open study behind him, urging her to enter first.
She did, but was quick to pause abruptly in the doorway when she noticed that Miss Tempest Hambly was not alone. Her elder sister, the one and only Louise Poincaré, was situated at her side, both females seated on the leather sofa by the gas fireplace.
Louise was poised and still as her eyes shot up upon the intrusion, fixing on Francesca with razor precision. Her expression proved difficult to decipher, though she thankfully appeared less hostile than she had been during their previous encounter.
Tempest, a petite brunette that looked to be no more than perhaps twenty, had turned in her seat to follow her sister's eyes.
"Miss Poincaré," Frankie could hear herself saying, instinct having her address the woman rather than indulge in the tension bubbling between them. "What an unexpected surprise."
The blonde female rose from her seat, all composure, save the way in which she seemed to subtly shake the nerves from her hands before offering an unexpected curtsy.
"Madame de Chacier, c'est un plaisir de vous revoir." (*)
Tempest seemed to be taking cues from her sister, for she too came to her feet to mirror Louise, curtsying and lowering her head in a sign of respect. The gesture made Frankie's brow raise just a hair in suspicion, but her features were quick to return to a more neutral state as she nodded in acknowledgement.
"I am pleased to see you again as well," she offered in response, "though admittedly a little perplexed. Did your sister request your presence this evening?"
The three siblings seemed to follow her train of thought immediately and all save Louise were quick to counter her suspicions that this additional guest was in preparation for any unforeseen quarrel that could arise. Tempest was the first to speak up.
"Oh no! I would never dream of insulting you by insisting on an added witness," she insisted, her voice so timid, she was nearly drowned out in the sounds of her brother who had begun to offer his own explanations. But Frankie's attention was fixed on the young woman, which seemed to quiet Jack as the youngest Dracul was permitted to speak for herself. "I am well acquainted with how these interviews of yours generally work, and normally I would enjoy getting to know you as my brothers have, with just the two of us. But I have determined to speak to you on a matter at some later part of the evening that is going to be rather difficult for me and my siblings have all offered to accompany as moral support."
Frankie looked to Jack to see if this was true and he nodded.
"Niklaus is on his way," he added. "Should be here later in the evening."
The woman became aware of a familiar anxiety tightening within her chest at the thought of being in the company of not one but all of the Dracul Sânge in a single sitting. What story would Tempest need to tell that would necessitate the presence of not only one sibling but all? Although she wished Jack had at least warned her of this gathering beforehand, she could do little else but take it in stride.
"I see. Would you like to wait for him to arrive before we get started, or…"
"What I have to tell you can wait for the end of our interview," Tempest replied.
"My brothers and I will wait until Tempi is ready and then we will rejoin you. Lou, however, has requested to stay, merely to listen," Jack added with a pointed finger of warning in the blonde's direction. "And if she is to speak, she is to remain civil."
"Do you have any objections to this arrangement?" the young brunette inquired thoughtfully with a look of anticipation.
Frankie's eyes met Louise's once more.
What was her motive for staying, she could not help but wonder.
The words exchanged during their last encounter had continued to haunt Francesca for months. To own the truth, she was no stranger to being disliked. It came with the territory, accustomed to having her general introversion and quiet sense of confidence misinterpreted for arrogance and conceit. But it had been Louise's harsh critique of her character, the way she had so expertly revealed Frankie's own insecurities when it came to her betrothal to Dracula that had unnerved her most – a poniard that pricked and stabbed at the back of her mind continually.
No one so naïve would dare to aspire to being our father's queen. I mean look at her, Jack! You seriously expect me to believe that that is the undying bride of the great dragon, the savior of our race? I've seen more promise in some of father's whores than I do in this pitiful disgrace of a woman.
Although deep down Frankie knew the words had been spoken out of spite rather than genuine malice, they had wounded her in unexpected ways and it made lingering under the blonde's scrutinizing gaze unpleasant. But if Frankie was anything, she was obstinate. So with that famous steel running down her back, she straightened, raising her head just a little as to deflect any weakness Miss Poincaré could have detected in her.
"No, I suppose I don't mind," she said at last before returning her attention to Jack. "So you'll be joining us later?"
"Yes. With Niklaus still absent and Zeke in conference with the lycan elders, we won't be able to have that particular discussion," and he looked to Tempest when he said this, "until the whole family is present." His phone began to buzz angrily in his pocket again and Frankie smiled sympathetically. "And I have to take care of a certain Italian anyway," he announced, retrieving the mobile and waving it a little in the air with an expression of bemused resignation.
"Of course. But before you go…" and Frankie motioned her head a little in Tempest's direction and Jack snapped his fingers in an ah-ha fashion before extending his hand out to his youngest sister. She came to his side at once, her footfall delicate and utterly silent despite the point of her stilettos and the thin rug that covered the floor.
"Yes, I nearly forgot… introductions. Francesca, allow me to introduce to you my sister and the youngest member of the Dracul Sânge – Tempest Hambly."
Tempest bowed her head, quickly looking to her brother to make sure she was doing the right thing before she extended her hand.
"I'm very happy to finally meet you, Francesca," she replied with eagerness as Frankie shook her hand, smile reaching up into a pair of soft hazel eyes. "I was admittedly hesitant to like you so quickly without us ever meeting, but when my brothers spoke so highly of you, I knew you had to be as wonderful as they insisted – even if Louise wasn't as convinced."
She tacked on the last part rather bashfully before placing her hands behind her back and swaying a bit as she smiled up at her elder brother, pleased by his subtle nod of approval.
"Like most, I'd prefer to be readily liked by everyone, but in your sister's defense, I can appreciate her hesitance," Frankie replied, sending Louise another sidelong glance, and while the blonde female said nothing, her expression softened just a fraction. "I'm not usually so easily won over, myself," she continued, and while the two ladies seemed surprised by this bit of information, Jack had to hold back a chuckle. "But we're not here to talk about me," and Frankie reached into the inner pocket of her jacket for her digital recorder. "Shall we get started?"
Upon this cue, Jack excused himself after making certain the women were situated, and when the door had closed behind him, Frankie switched on the recorder and looked to Tempest to commence. Louise, though she had retaken her seat at her sister's side in silence, remained the picture of stoic restraint, watching her father's intended with carefully veiled interest as the interview began.
"My name is Tempest Marie Hambly-Drăculea. Henry – or Hal, as he was known by the rest of us – was my twin brother. We were both born in the spring of 1962 to a human by the name of Sybil Hambly. She had been a consort of Father's during the second world war until she was formally released to be with our biological father – a vampire by the name of Lord Henry, a member of Father's royal guard."
"So you were born dhampir… not human," Frankie clarified, surprised by this revelation as it hadn't been included in Tempest's original file.
The young woman nodded gently, remaining soft-spoken as she continued.
"Yes."
"Were you raised by your mother, or your biological father?"
"We were raised from our infancy by Dracula as his own flesh and blood. We did not learn the truth of our parentage until we were of age, but by then it made little difference to us."
Another surprise.
Frankie's brows furrowed a little in suspicion. The question of why he would do such a thing seemed to linger on the tip of her tongue, but before she could find a satisfactory way of wording such a query, Tempest explained.
"Lord Henry had been a faithful servant of Father's for decades. He had always been considered more a friend than an employee. He was killed months before my brother and I were even born and our mother passed within the hour we were delivered into this world. The birth of a dhampir is quite different from the birth of an average mortal. Oftentimes the mother and child both perish in the process. The fact that Sybil was able to deliver both myself and my brother and still live just long enough to hold and name each of us before her passing was a miracle in itself, but the likelihood of us surviving our first year without being reared by one that knows the workings of our kind was slim in my day. So, as a way of honoring those that gave us life, Father took us in. We became his within the first twenty-four hours of life."
"You mean you became blood-bound to him?"
"Yes. The youngest members initiated into the Dracul Sânge."
Frankie looked to Louise as if for confirmation and the blonde nodded once.
"It is true," she answered plainly. "I remember the evening Father brought them both home… and the sleepless days and nights that followed for the next few years."
"What was it like, growing up with Dracula as your father? You're the first I've ever met who can actually attest to such an experience. Your siblings all became bound to him later in their adult lives, and they didn't really look at him as a father until much later. But you and Hal…"
"We were different," Tempest finished with an understanding smile. "It's been so many decades now since my childhood, I can't remember it quite as well as perhaps Louise or Jack could."
Frankie prepared to move onto the next question, mistaking the woman's modesty for lack of remembrance, but Louise was quick to set the record straight.
"He doted on them," she interjected, her words filled with a kind of teasing that was new to Frankie, and certainly not unpleasant to witness as the blonde seemed to relax some, smiling knowingly in her sister's direction. "They never wanted for anything, but he made sure not to spoil them. Well, not too much. He never could say no to Tempi," and Tempest's smile turned shy.
"In my defense, you were the one who taught me how to get what I wanted," and the ladies both chuckled quietly as if recalling some secret memory.
Tempest proceeded to detail a number of fond recollections of her younger years, describing what it was like to grow up in Castle Dracula as a dhampir and as the recognized daughter of a king. Louise would chime in every now and then, usually to correct her sister's accounts if the details were slightly off.
They continued in this mode of casual conversation for some time, leaving Frankie to remain in a comfortable state of relative silence, the woman content in merely observing and listening. Whenever a story was shared, she would quietly shuffle through the lifetimes of memories she had already absorbed from Louise, Jack, Zeke, and Niklaus in search of the tale from those years of Tempest and Hal's youths so she could align them with what the women were now describing, granting her a more complete picture.
It proved a somewhat unusual exercise, for with each memory that was stitched to another, Frankie couldn't help but feel as if she had been there personally to witness it all first hand, as if she had always been there, a part of their lives. Without even realizing she was doing it, she began to imagine what it would have been like to raise the young dhampir twins at Vlad's side as not only his queen, but his wife, his equal. It was merely a wishful thought, but it left something warm and delightful to settle in the center of her chest.
In the past when it had come to the memories of the Dracul Sânge, Vladislaus' personage had always been wraith-like in her mind – an indistinguishable shadow of mystery and ambiguity. But now that she knew who he truly was, she was pleased to find his face in the memories of his children, a fully active and visible participant in their lives. To them, he wasn't at all as his reputation suggested. He was never cruel or unfeeling to any of them.
This king of the undead, this supposed prince of darkness, although he certainly could be both a fierce ruler and a force to be reckoned with, had also been a loving and devoted father. Stern, certainly – and it made sense given his militaristic upbringing – but he seemed to genuinely care for their well-being and happiness.
The image of Vlad with a bundled infant in his arms in a dimly lit room or even him playfully chasing a set of brunette twin toddlers down a corridor made Frankie's heart ache in a way that astonished her. Until recently, it would have been impossible to picture Vladislaus Drăculea in such a light, but now… it wasn't her preconceived notions of his majesty that she was seeing in her mind's eye, but rather it was Vlad as she knew him.
Without even being consciously aware of the occurrence, Frankie's heart continued to soften towards him in a way that could only be described as dramatic.
A couple of hours into the interview and she was already wondering what it would be like to witness a reunion between Vlad and his children, dreaming about what expression he would wear when he learned they were alive and well, that the family he had spent centuries creating had somehow survived… and that it had been she who had returned them to him. She could see his face in her mind's eye, the softening of his countenance as he looked upon her. Perhaps he'd reach out for her then, inviting her into their fold and his arms.
What would it be like, she wondered, to be a part of such a family, to belong to them and they to her… to be bound not merely by law or societal convention, but in blood, in soul?
Frankie was unconscious of the way her expression had fallen suddenly at the thought as the ache in her heart grew more pronounced, reality soon blowing through her imaginings and dashing them to pieces as she was physically plucked from each memory she had subconsciously placed herself in, destroying the fantasy.
What she found herself instinctively wishing for could never be… not with her blood condition, the demons inside of her, let alone all of her own personal baggage.
Besides, she had denied the affections of Vlad once already. While the pull between them lingered, it would be cruel to give him hope where there was none. The reality of the situation hurt her far more than she had anticipated. She had always known it, that what she now found herself longing for could never be, but being in the presence of Tempest and Louise who were so busy reminiscing, and having already won the affection of his majesty's sons who were so eager to call her mother…
Frankie could almost hear her own heart audibly cracking in disappointment.
Not only would she and Vlad never even have the chance to see if they could somehow make things work out, she would never be able to have sire-lings, children of her own; and the thought, though not new by any stretch of the imagination, proved more devastating in that moment than it had in a long, long time.
Francesca had become so lost in the mire of her own thoughts that she hadn't realized the way in which Louise was watching her with an ever-softening expression, even as Tempest continued to fill the silence with accounts of her youth.
"Hal and I were formally turned when we were twenty-one, and to celebrate, we went on this huge American tour on our own with Louise and Niklaus while Jack and Zeke stayed behind to deal with some political issue with Uncle Marcus… I can't quite recall what it was exactly. But we attended a half a dozen concerts while we were there. Hal loved rock music. I remember we saw Kiss, the Scorpions, and Journey first; then we hopped over the pond to catch Def Leppard, and then went back to the states for Black Sabbath and Prince – or maybe I got the order wrong. But it was so much fun, being a full-fledged vampire for the first time and feeling like we had the whole world at our fingertips. The 1980s were some of the best years of my life up until that point."
"Until you fell in love with a werewolf and nearly went all Romeo and Juliet on the rest of us," Louise chimed in, finally pulling her eyes away from the still silent female seated across from them.
Tempest's smile grew mischievous.
"I was young and Beau was my first. Besides, I still think Father completely overreacted."
"Not too keen on having a lycan for a son-in-law?" Frankie managed to say, still attempting to smother her own private heartache. "I can't help but wonder how he'll react when he finally hears about Zeke and Isabella?"
"Well, he'll have to get over it if he wants to see his granddaughter," Tempest replied rather emphatically. "Anna-Sophie is the cutest! I know if he could just meet her, he'd be as smitten as the rest of us."
This made Frankie smile a little knowingly.
"Yes, she is. But I'm astonished to learn that this affinity for werewolves runs so prevalent amongst the Dracul Sânge. I never would have imagined…"
"Is it really so surprising?" the young Dracul continued with a slight wink. "I mean you and Prince Tristan dated for how many years?"
Frankie could sense the condemnation suddenly coming from Louise.
"You what?"
"Zeke never told you, Lou? Our future mother almost became his sister-in-law a few years back, from what I understand."
Frankie finally dared to look in Miss Poincaré's direction and the bewilderment that was there had the corners of her mouth twitching a little.
"Yes, it's true, Tristan and I were together for about a decade. But we broke things off six years ago when I told him about my betrothal to your father. Though we're still on friendly terms, we haven't seen very much of each other since."
Louise muttered an oath of disbelief under her breath while Tempest leaned forward in interest.
"I never would have pegged you as the type," the latter admitted, "especially given all I've heard about you. I mean… Tristan is an alpha male – literally speaking – and you're, from what I've been told, just as stubborn and dominant as he is. Maybe even more!"
Frankie gave way to the smile she had been suppressing as she secretly wondered where Tempest had gotten her information. Probably from Jack, she mused internally.
"It wasn't always easy," she admitted, recalling the earlier days of her relationship with the werewolf prince. "But we had been friends long before anything sexual had taken place between us – which, in retrospect, worked in our favor. It gave us the opportunity to create a solid enough foundation for us to build a more intimate relationship on. Well, save my neglect in telling him the truth regarding the prophecy. But at the time, I was still determined to carve my own path, consequences be damned. It was easier to lie to myself, and to him, pretending that our relationship could be forever rather than put everything out on the table at the start as I should have."
"If you weren't betrothed to Father, or if you were able to find a way out of the whole thing, do you think you would still be with Tristan?" Tempest asked suddenly and Frankie could sense the expectation in the room as Vlad's blood-bound daughters watched her carefully, awaiting her answer.
She knew her response in her gut before the words could ever reach her lips.
As if it were instinct, her mind immediately turned to Vlad and the mere thought of him left her undead heart fluttering slightly, try as she might to suppress it.
"The best kind of relationships are the ones where both parties involved treat one another as true equals," Frankie explained. "Tristan and I were partners before we ever became lovers. He understood and respected my need to control certain aspects of my life – as an individual, as a woman, and as someone who has endured and experienced what I have. And in return, I did my best to adhere to his alpha tendencies, particularly in the bedroom. We did our best to make adjustments as needed until we found a rhythm that suited us both, and most of it, as it often is, was just a lot of trial and error. But I learned a great deal about myself and about what I wanted in a relationship from my time with him – valuable lessons I would never dream of taking back."
"If you two made each other so happy, why break things off? Why not make them work despite the obstacle of Mariella's prophecy?"
"Because I knew in my heart that I could never be entirely his. That, and I had broken the cardinal rule of any successful relationship – and that is to be honest and forthright with your partner. I had deceived Tristan from the start, making him believe that I would always be his and his alone when I knew deep down that could never be, despite it being what I had wanted at the time. He deserved my absolute fidelity and I couldn't give that to him."
"Do you ever wish you had just left things as they were?" Louise inquired, speaking for the first time since this particular conversation had begun. Frankie's answer was immediate.
"Absolutely not," she answered softly, much to the surprise of Jack who had recently entered the room unnoticed. "No, knowing what I know now, having that valuable sense of hindsight, as much as I still care for Tristan I know that he and I would not have worked out in the long-run. At the end of the day, despite the efforts and sacrifices we made to be together, we had always been better as friends. Before we became romantically involved, he would always challenge me, encouraging and sometimes even straight up forcing me to be better than I was, to recognize my own potential."
"But after we became intimate," she continued, noting Jack's presence now, the man still lingering in the doorway, just listening, "that changed. When alpha werewolves mate, there is a kind of unintentional marking or claiming that takes place, an irreversible chemical reaction that changes the way they view their partner. When he claimed me, as consequence, he also became extremely protective, territorial – borderline possessive at times. He was determined to spare and defend me from just about everything and because I've spent the majority of my life looking after myself, I'll admit, I got spoiled by his attentions. After a while, I didn't really mind that he was constantly shielding me from things when I should have cared, when I normally would have. Instead of insisting on being autonomous as I had always been, I became comfortable, complacent; I stagnated. In fact, now that I'm saying all of this out loud, that's probably why our split was so devastating. I had stopped growing. I had learned to become vulnerable, yes, but I had also grown a little co-dependent. I had forgotten how to stand on my own, so when he walked away…"
"You forgot how to pick yourself back up," Tempest finished with a knowing look before she looked in her brother's direction. She reached out for him and Jack came to her side in silence, sitting on the arm of the sofa as the conversation continued, determined not to interrupt it. "It was like that with me and Beau," she continued. "I loved him, despite Father's vehement objections, but in retrospect I came to find that even though he was integral to my personal development in certain areas, he wasn't the best for me in others. And it wasn't because he was a werewolf – it was just the type of man he was and the kind of girl I had been at the time."
"The people that pass through our lives all serve some purpose, I believe," Frankie explained with an affectionate smile in Jack's direction. "With Tristan, I needed to learn what a healthier relationship felt like, as most of mine have tended to be more toward the contrary. That's not to suggest that what he and I shared was perfect, because it wasn't… but he was good for me in many respects, and I like to think I was good for him in a way," and Tempest smiled sympathetically at this.
"Is any relationship ever truly perfect?"
"Perhaps not – especially since you're dealing with such imperfect people. But I do believe that some relationships and partnerships are better than others. It's all about the individuals involved and the effort they put into it."
"Do you think you and Father will ever work out… when you finally meet each other?"
Frankie shrugged, leaning back in her seat, still looking in Jack's direction as she tried not to smile at his knowing expression.
"I'm not sure. There's still so much working against he and I… and in the spirit of this honesty we've been sharing, I have to confess I'm hesitant to even try."
"Because of his reputation?" Louise inquired a little defensively.
"No. My concerns on that front have grown less and less these last few months."
"So you mean your blood condition," Tempest interpreted and Frankie nodded.
"Amongst other things."
"But don't you think he at least deserves a chance," Jack said at last. "Like you, he never asked for Mariella to portend what she did. He never asked to be bound to you… although given your history, perhaps he unconsciously did."
"What do you mean by that, Jack?" Tempest inquired as she patted his hand, which was resting on her shoulder.
"I mean Father and Francesca have met before."
"Really?" the girl asked, apparently excited by this new revelation. "Why didn't he say anything?"
"If you're referring to the masquerade ball in Venice…" Frankie began, but Louise's gasp of disbelief interrupted her before she could even finish her thought.
"That was you?" the blonde exclaimed. "You're la sirène?"
"Was," the woman assured her with a modest laugh. "That was a very long time ago."
"Aunt Mariella used to tell me that story all the time when I was a little girl," Tempest explained enthusiastically. "But I thought she had made it up… the one that got away."
"The only one, for that matter," Jack said with admiration in his smile. "Historically speaking, Father was always the dominant party in the relationship, the one in control."
"Makes sense, given his position. Kings don't bow to their queens, let alone their consorts – prospective or otherwise," Louise pointed out.
"I guess that makes Francesca the exception to the rule."
"I sincerely doubt that my departure that evening makes me the exception. If anything, I've always been convinced that the reason why I was able to leave him there that evening was because he never really had the chance to get his teeth in me in the first place," Frankie replied, trying to hide her amusement.
"Are you suggesting that a few moments more in his presence and things would have ended differently?" Jack asked teasingly.
"I suppose we'll never know," she replied, careful to appear aloof.
"I'm still amazed that la sirène was even a real person!" Tempest continued. "Lord, that makes so much more sense now. Lou, do you remember when Father found out Mariella had been telling us the story? I'll never forget the expression on his face. He was cross, but he looked so haunted at the same time…"
"I think the look she gave him in response to his chastisement was far more memorable. I'll never forget it!" Louise agreed.
Frankie was already trying to sift through Louise's old memories to see if she could find this encounter they were referring to. It took a moment, as the conversation continued amongst the siblings, but she did find it. Tempest appeared to be eleven or so at the time, and Mariella Bernardini was recounting the tale of a beautiful siren in a deep indigo gown, capturing the attention of his majesty before disappearing into the night without a word of explanation.
As the girl had previously described, Vlad had entered the room with an expression that was familiar to her – one of recognition and even regret. He had looked at her that way a number of times during the start of their acquaintance, though she could never account for the reason behind it until now. When he had put an end to Mariella's storytelling, insisting it was time for Tempest to go to bed, Bernardini's wife had chastened him for insisting that that had to be the end of the story, but he had dismissed her with a wave of his hand so he could tuck his daughter into bed.
"Why did you run from him that night?" she heard Louise asking next, pulling Frankie from her thoughts.
"A whole host of reasons," she admitted. "Fear being the principle one among them."
"You were afraid of him?" Tempest clarified but Frankie shook her head, looking down at her hands suddenly.
"I was afraid of what he made me feel."
(*) c'est un plaisir de vous revoir is French for nice to see you again according to our Lord and Savior, Google Translate ;)
I know that's kind of a mean place to end the chapter... but this sucker was already SO LONG! But I hope you enjoyed the final Dracul Sânge interview! This is definitely not the last time we'll see these guys, but I must admit, writing about all of them in a single room together was such a fun challenge! We've got a bit more of that in the next one, so I'll see you guys on Monday with the next chapter.
Don't forget to review!