"What is this city?" Nikola asked, sliding a picture across the table to his – almost – five-year-old daughter.
Sophie took the picture and held it to the light of the candles, trying to get a better view of the image displayed on the glazed paper. She shrugged.
"I don't know. A mess, probably" She answered, placing the picture back down on the dark red velvet tablecloth.
Nikola took the picture back. Well, how was she supposed to recognize ruins anyway? She had some very strong appetence to architecture, true, but she was still very young, and it was kind of hard to reconstruct the temples of Bhallassam from a bed of ruins on a black and white picture.
"Cheers daddy." The girl exclaimed, brandishing her wine glass, the straw menacing to leave the confine of the recipient and splash the table with grape juice.
Nikola shocked her glass with his absentmindedly, looking through the pile of pictures he had brought for their little father-daughter date night.
"Okay kiddo, what about this one?"
This time, Sophie's face lit up as soon as her gaze fell on the picture on the table. She sucked loudly on her straw, swallowed her juice, and smiled.
"That's in London!"
It was indeed a picture of London. The Natural History Museum of London, to be precise.
Nikola sighed. There seemed to be very little logic in the way Sophie's genetic memory worked. He had great expectations regarding her vampiric traits. From the written sources Archibald had collected about the sanguine vampiris race, he had gathered that vampiric genes carried memories from their ancestries. Unfortunately, it seemed that the process had been so self-evident during their reign that nobody had ever needed to write a manual on how to go through your genetic memory. From their little adventure with Afina, they knew that tasting another vampire's blood was a way of 'ingesting' those memories. But there was no knowing whether one was able to use their own genetic memories. And that was something Nikola was very interested in. Imagine all they could learn about his race thanks to Sophie if only she could access these treasures of information?
Sophie did not qualify as a full-blood vampire, so when she was born, he had tried his best to moderate his expectations of what she would be capable of. He had seen no reason why she would have more or different powers from his own. That's why he had barely been able to contain his excitement when she had first shown signs of anachronic memories. They were little signs at first, like recognizing people on pictures; people she had never met. The Big Guy, James, whatever Helen's last protégé's name had been… She also had some general knowledge that nobody had thought of sharing with her: the name of far away lands or cities, animals she had never seen, things of the sort.
Helen would brush these incoherencies aside, finding a plausible explanation for every occurence – "Nikola, there are pictures everywhere in my office, she must have asked Will or Henry who's who", "Of course she knows about Egypt. We've got picture books, Nikola.". But he felt there was more than that. It was as if Sophie had sucked on her mother's many memories while growing in her womb.
It had become even more tangible the day she had drawn a sketch of the Old City Sanctuary. Sure, it was a toddler's version of a sketch, but it was recognizable.
So now, when nobody was around, Nikola would spend quite some time trying to understand what Sophie did or did not remember. Obviously, she had inherited more from her mother's side. He was slightly jealous, but whatever.
"Daddy?" Sophie began, turning her straw in her glass, focused on the swirls she created.
"Yes, dove?" Nikola answered, leaving his pictures aside to focus on his daughter.
He was disappointed in his experiment, but the evening was far from being a failure. He had decided that since Helen was out for the night, he would put Sophie in a nice dress, try his hand at styling her hair, cook her favourite food, decorate the dining table with flowers and candles, and have a nice dinner date. They had spent a great night, just the two of them, and, as a nice bonus, he had realized he was not bad at designing hairdos, which was unexpected to say the least.
"Can we stop playing games? I want you to tell me a story."
Sophie bit her lower lip as she sent him a pleading gaze and Nikola's heart clenched. In the flickering light of the candles, he could see something very Helen-like in that baby-face and it filled him with awe. This little innocent being really was theirs. His, and hers simultaneously. How unbelievable.
"Sure, we can do that. Do you want me to read you a chapter of The Prince and the Pauper?"
Sophie shook her head and leaned down, getting her face closer from his.
"No. I want you to tell me again how mommy saved you." She said, her gaze intense with curiosity.
"Which time? I personally prefer the time your father was stuck in a cave with nasty bugs." Helen said, entering the kitchen in an off-the-shoulder black dress, bare feet, her high heels dangling from her fingers.
Nikola's breath caught in his throat. She looked smoking hot. The dress was hugging her every curve, stopping right above the knee, leaving her delicious legs bare down to her naked ankles. Her dark, smoky eyeshadow accentuated her greenish-blue eyes and gave her a feral look that made his inside turn to goo when she shot him a reproachful stare.
The toddler jumped in surprise.
"Mommy! Look, daddy did my hair! Isn't it pretty?" She shrilled.
Helen stopped next to her daughter's chair and took a minute to analyse her daughter's hair.
"It's very pretty. And what are you drinking?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at Nikola.
"Wine!"
Nikola shot daggers at Sophie.
"Wine for very small humans." He corrected.
Fine, maybe grape juice with chocolate cake for dessert had not been his best idea, but still, he was not as stupid as to give real wine to a toddler.
"Now, either my watch is broken, or bedtime was two hours ago." Helen stated, tilting her head accusingly at the both of them.
"We're having a date." Sophie argued.
Helen rolled her eyes.
"I can see that. Now, sweetie, I think it's time for you to go brush your teeth and go to bed, okay?"
Sophie sighed dramatically, downed the rest of her grape juice and jumped down from her chair.
"Fine. Can I get a bedtime story though?" She asked, trying her best to get her way by flashing a desperate look at Helen with her huge grey eyes.
Helen huffed, shaking her head at how impossible her small negotiator was.
"I'm afraid it's too late for a bedtime story, Sophie. But we'll come up once you're in bed to give you a kiss, alright?" She explained, unbuttoning the back of the toddler's dress so she would be able to take it off herself.
The child nodded and left the room, dragging her feet, leaving her parents alone in the dim light of the flickering candles, Nikola in his best suit, Helen in her glamorous dress.
She slumped in the chair her daughter had just vacated, sighing, and let her stilettos fall to the floor with a clatter.
"I take it your date did not go as planned." Nikola guessed, running a finger around the rim of his wine glass.
Helen gestured for him to pass her his glass, which he did with a side smile, and she downed the its whole content before she spoke.
"She gave me the elbow. I'm too mysterious to be fallen in love with." She spat.
Nikola grabbed the wine bottle he had opened earlier and refilled his glass.
"I'm sorry." He said.
Helen shot him a look of disbelief.
"Fine, not so much." He admitted. "But I'm sorry for her. It's her loss, really."
Silence fell between them as he sipped on his wine, and she was trying not to get too emotional. It was one thing being open with him about her love life, but she was not going to show him how she cared about other people. No matter who she was dating, she would always come home to him. There was no discussing that.
"I don't even know why you even bother, honestly." Nikola said at last.
She raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.
"I mean, I get that you love to discover new people, that it thrills you to undress new lovers for the first time and the like but it's such a waste of time." He clarified.
"Don't you ever go out?" She asked, tilting her head with renewed interest.
He cringed.
"Of course, I don't. You've ruined me for anyone else." With that, he licked his bottom lip, his gaze undressing her in the dark.
She rolled her eyes.
"You don't mean that."
He shrugged.
"True. The Source Blood did. Which is kind of the same, me being straight and you being the only woman in our little study group."
Seeing her frown, he went on.
"Really, Helen. What would I do with a woman who's at least a century younger and has no idea who or what I really am? At best, it goes very well, and I get to see her age and die still wondering why I'm no more wrinkled than the day we met. I'm not a masochist, thank you very much. There's no point in losing my time. I got everything I need down here." He ended, gesturing to their surroundings.
Helen scrutinized him dubiously.
"So, you're telling me you don't have needs." She challenged, squinting.
He grinned.
"If you mean sexual needs, I do. And I'm perfectly able to take care of them myself."
Helen stared at him, trying hard to find the merest of signs that he was joking, and found none.
"C'mon Helen, you know me." He said rising from his chair. "I need some emotional and intellectual connection to get a show on the road."
As he spoke, he turned around the table, caressing the velvet of the table clothe with a finger, stopping right above Helen's shoulder.
"And admit it," he went on, leaning on her to get his mouth – very – close to her ear, "no cheap thrill feels as good as this." He whispered right behind her ear.
Helen closed her eyes when she felt his breath on the shell of her ear.
She hated to think he was absolutely right. The need she felt when he was this close was more powerful than anything she had felt before. It seemed that having a child together had done something to them. Or rather to her. His flirty behaviour had not changed one bit.
He smiled when he felt her breath get throaty. He could smell the sinful ideas that went through that gorgeous mind of hers, and he let his fingers run on her bare shoulder, getting her to tilt her head to the opposite side, granting him access. Almost pleading for his touch.
A gasp broke their moment, and when Helen opened her eyes, her gaze caught Henry's.
The poor man had stopped at the threshold of the kitchen, looking like a fish out of the water.
"I, ugh, nevermind, I wasn't that hungry anyway. I'm gonna, ugh, go, and leave you to your… date." He stammered, his elbows up, thumbs showing the hallway behind him, walking backwards.
Before either of the two elders could explain anything, the young man was so far gone that trying to be heard by him would have been a waste of time.
Great, Helen thought, already imagining the wide speculations that would flow around the breakfast table.
"Maybe we could vacate the kitchen. Your room or mine?" Nikola wondered, raising an amused eyebrow at her.
Helen huffed, and tapped his cheek with a small smile.
"Nikola," she sighed, "I got dumped two hours ago. You're more to me than a rebound guy and I don't need a pity party." She whispered, playing with the collar of his shirt.
He pouted adorably, but she did not cave in. Rising to her tippy toes to get to his height, she placed a finger on his lips before he could protest and touched her lips to the corner of his mouth, earning an amazed look from him.
"I'll go check on Sophie. Goodnight Nikola."