Bonding

Risky. Very risky. But Sera can't help herself.

It was not so very long before I was forced to acknowledge the truth: I was seeing more than a friend in the golden-eyed vampire called Crispin.

I came to the unequivocal understanding in my second week at the hospital. Crispin was sitting cross-legged at the foot of my bed as had become his habit, holding an old journal of his open in his strong, white palm. He was reading to me, as I'd asked him to. I had been finding myself ever more curious, ever more determined to understand on a full level this gentle vampire who didn't kill humans. Through him, I was learning about the others like him, the ones he called his "family." And the more I got to know him, the more of a kinship I felt.

He was brilliant. That much I'd figured out by now. My rigorous testing of his depth and breadth of knowledge had delivered some incredible and pleasing results. He was something of a jack-of-all-trades, knowledgeable about many things, but he had chosen to specialize in a few areas, focusing on medical studies, on venoms, and, remarkably, on geology. I soon discovered the reason behind his interest in rocks and minerals—he described in wonderful detail to me the intricacies of shock absorbency versus hardness in minerals, "hypothesizing" the existence of some material capable of being both things simultaneously. He was talking, of course, about vampire flesh. I marveled at what he'd guessed. We'd been studying vampires long enough in our laboratories to know how their near-indestructibility worked, on both a physical and a chemical level. I couldn't help but offer some insights, "theorizing" an increased resistance to impact if the mineral were suspended in tiny, microscopic pieces within a complex, flexible lattice. I was being stupid, of course, revealing too much. Surely he'd see I was imagining a tissue made of crystalline, vampiric cells. If he saw what I knew, he said not a word about it.

Risky. I was being risky.

I'd made promises to myself about being cautious and not accidentally revealing myself the way Crispin unwittingly did (and quite often). But I had utterly failed to follow through on them. I was being too free with my words, blurting thoughts without worrying about what secrets they might reveal, too relaxed and happy to keep my original mission in sight. Part of the problem, of course, was that I'd chosen to abandon my mission altogether. The longer I spent here, the more my old task was replaced with another, more selfish goal: to learn as much about Crispin as possible, and to relish every moment I had with him.

He'd evolved in my mind's eye. Even after I'd been stunned by his golden eyes and had turned away from my desire to kill him, I hadn't thought of him as much more than a very odd, attractive vampire. I'd thought it of both him and the one he referred to as his father, the one called Dr. Cullen. But now I was seeing more than their vampirism—I was seeing people. Human souls trapped in blood-lusting, immortal bodies of marble. And the kind of redirection this had worked upon my thoughts was inconceivable. Crispin was no longer his vampirism. He was himself, as a person, with an irritating vampiric disability hanging off his neck.

This change in perception was what had inspired me to ask for excerpts from Crispin's journal. His knowledge and his thought processes were fascinating and entertaining, yes, but I had decided it was high time that I'd looked into his person a little more carefully. He picked through his old journal entries and read me the ones he felt comfortable with sharing, unwittingly unloading a huge treasure trove of information about himself and his past. I listened with intent rapture, wishing I could take notes without looking like a creep. I had never looked into a vampire's everyday life before, and to hear it from this one—the one I had come to like so much—was incredible to me. I had a half-formed mad desire to steal one of his journals and take it home to my Siege. Surely they, like me, would see the person behind the marble face if they could only read Crispin's soul on a page!

If only.

But my fireheart was beyond reach, my memory still unreliable when it mattered most, my injured leg still uncooperative. I was still plagued by debilitating headaches that often escalated into migraines, which required prompt medicine. Crispin was usually the one to jump on it, spending time with me like he was. He was beginning to learn my subtle body language cues that meant I was hurting too much or getting too tired. It was remarkable, when I stopped to think about it. He was empathetic. He and Dr. Cullen. Empathetic vampires.

No wonder they didn't feed on human blood. They could empathize with their victims. Incredible.

Crispin was reading from an older journal of his, and he hadn't told me the date of the entry. I was dying to know, but it probably would have revealed something about his supposed-to-be-secret real age that I wasn't supposed to have already guessed at. I didn't press him for the information. He was already baring his soul as it was, and I didn't want to scare him off. I also didn't want to reveal that I knew things I shouldn't. As if I hadn't done that enough already.

"'Visited the aquarium today' … 'sharks have toothy skin' … 'Emmett wouldn't quit scaring the fish' …" Crispin rolled his eyes. "Blast it, Emmett. Don't get me wrong," he added, glancing at me, "Having older brothers has been a wonderful experience. But I'm not sure there's another person on Earth who likes to tease me more." I gave him the biggest, most devilish grin I could conjure up. Crispin's face twitched into a smile. "Okay, except for you," he relented. I laughed.

"Nothing personal, GoldenEyes," I teased, fiercely. Yes, I was still teasing vampires. One would have thought I had a death wish, except that, in this case, it was the opposite. I had long since lost my fear of Crispin. By the textbook, such a thing would have been suicide, but I had come a long way from the textbooks.

Crispin sighed, shaking his head a little at me. I was propped up on a massive pile of pillows, where I'd been sitting for the last hour, listening to him talk. Now, getting antsy and achy, I sat up straight, stretching out my legs and back. Crispin observed with his all-seeing eyes. He straightened, closing his journal. "Ready to walk again?"

Not really. I had to gather my strength before I nodded. We'd been practicing walking for the past couple of days, trying to strengthen my body in preparation for the day I would leave the hospital. It still seemed distant, but I was glad to be doing some exercises. Dr. Cullen had worked out some physical therapy techniques for us to do, which was good of him. I was especially glad of Crispin's sturdy, solid arm as a support.

Crispin shoved himself off my bed, set his journal on my bedside table, and offered his beautiful hands. I prepared myself for the stupid blush I would predictably experience and accepted them, letting him help me. My face heated up at the coolness of his sturdy palms. Bah. I was getting much too eager to touch him these days.

Crispin gave me a crooked little grin, clean teeth gleaming, as he helped me get up, working me safely around my twisty IV tubes. He could probably feel the heat of my blush on his undead flesh. I wondered if he found it amusing. I, for one, found it embarrassing. But I turned my focus upon my feet and balanced on my unsteady legs, wincing at the ache of my injured limb. I reminded myself that I could do this. I'd been getting better and better. It was only a little extra stiff today.

Crispin tried to warm me up, guiding me carefully around my hospital bed, away from my IV rack so I could stretch without messing up something important. I limped along like the little invalid I had become, clinging to my favorite vampire and feeling ridiculous. At least I was wearing a patient garment more like my native robes instead of the stereotypical back-tying hospital gown.

I wasn't used to such weakness and frailty. I grimly acknowledged that I'd better get used to it. It sent pangs through my heart, but the truth was that I still did not have my fireheart. It had been over two weeks since the day of my accident, and I was still Sera, not Seraphinartisa. If things didn't change (and my heart dreaded that they might not), I would be human from here on out. This weakness was a major part of who I was. The one thing that would get me through it was this gentle creature next to me.

Crispin stood still once we'd moved a safe distance from my IV rack. He was like a statue while I tried to stretch and bend my bad leg. He was, once again, giving himself away to me, as sturdy and non-squashy as he was. I was careful not to point it out for fear that he'd lose his courage and back away. I much preferred his arm to the rails on the sides of my bed. I leaned heavily on him, picking my foot up off the ground and sticking it out as far as I was able. Crispin tilted his head a little, observing. "Not quite as good as yesterday," was his worried comment. I sighed.

"It's just stiff. I'm fine." I applied a little extra pressure to his arm even though I technically didn't need to. He didn't move an inch. It wasn't easy to throw off a vampire's balance, especially not when I was so small. My measly five-foot height combined with my thin stature to make me light as a feather next to Crispin's incredible sturdiness. It kept surprising me how terribly strong he was, even though he was so supple and lean. I was getting rapidly used to it the longer I spent in physical interaction with him.

"Would you like to sit in one of these seats and do some stretches?" Crispin asked, gently. I pressed into him, squinting my eyes slightly, and rested my head against his upper arm. He took in a quick breath and stiffened a fraction. I froze. I wasn't sure why I'd done it. It was … instinctive, somehow. It was oddly as though I were trying to listen for the essence of the soul I had begun to see. Then I realized in full what I'd just done. I wished he couldn't feel the warmth of my blush.

Crispin broke into soft chuckles. I felt the hard muscle of his forearm relax under my hands. "Hello, there," he teased. "Do you need something?"

I cleared my throat. "Erm … no, I … sorry."

Crispin's musical laughter was dangerously intoxicating. If I'd been one of his prey items, he would have had me in his snare in a second with that laugh. But he was Crispin, not a predator of mortals. So I just melted. I tried to hide my apologetic grin without success. He rested his free hand lightly on mine and gave me a tiny squeeze. "Come on, trouble-maker. Let's see what we can do about that leg."

He took me to one of the seats against the wall. I cringed as the muscles and tendons of my achy leg stretched in ways they weren't used to. Crispin tenderly helped me relax, sitting me down, supporting me so I didn't fall and wrench all the tight muscles too hard. He knelt in front of me. "Ready?"

I took a great, deep breath, trying not to think about how close he was and how his cool hands would feel on my skin. I focused instead on the stretch we were about to try. It would hurt. I readied myself. Then I nodded.

Crispin gently took my little brown ankle into one hand, supporting my calf with the other, and slowly stretched my leg out, lifting it until it was in front of me. His face was very concentrated, focused. He could probably feel the resistance of tight tendons, and was looking for their extension limit. I held my face stoic until the pain finally got too much. Then I cringed. He stopped at once. "Right there? That's the limit?"

"Yep," I grinned through gritted teeth. "That's good. Ow."

Crispin gently lowered my leg, letting it settle back into the normal position for sitting in a chair. "Better than yesterday by quite a lot. It's a great improvement."

I nodded, sighing. It wasn't a return to my prime strength by any means, but it was getting better. One step at a time. "All those little muscles are just so tight. I've been lying in that bed too long. They forgot how to work."

Crispin opened his mouth. Then he shut it. He looked a little alarmed. For a second, I was worried, but then he got a very odd look about him and shyly turned his eyes to the floor. I tilted my head. He cleared his throat.

"I think we should try a different exercise, now."

I was instantly suspicious. "Alright, spit it out. What's wrong?"

Crispin sighed. He sat back onto his heels, his lips tight for a moment. Then, "I was about to say—it would be a good idea to have your hamstrings massaged—to loosen them, you know—but … well, I had better not be the one to … It would be rather awkward for me to … ahem." He cleared his throat.

Oh my goodness. Vampire blushing! I was witnessing vampire blushing! I flushed beneath my soft brown cheeks and put my fingertips to my mouth, battling down laughter. Once I had some control of my voice, I said, "yes, that's a good plan."

"The—the, um … massage, or … ? Ah …"

I broke down into furious, stifled giggles. Crispin cleared his throat and avoided looking at me, an embarrassed smile creeping onto his face. I could see this was new territory for him. Well, it was for me, too. I was just as awkward and lost. "Thank you for offering to help me," I said, fighting down giggles. "But you may be right about the … intimacy factor."

Crispin rubbed the back of his head. He looked so very muddled. It was his first major slip-up as far as our odd little relationship was concerned, and he didn't seem to know what to do now. He gave himself a little rooster-tail mussing up his hair. I had to look away. Too much adorable all in one vampire.

"I'm so sorry," Crispin mumbled. "I had the thought, and I didn't realize how very silly it was until …"

I leaned back into my seat, still grinning. "You're sweet. Thank you. But maybe we'd better stick to the exercises Dr. Cullen suggested."

"Yes, I agree. We had better." Crispin cleared his throat again and turned his head back up to me, still looking all bewildered. I beamed fiercely at him, which made him look slightly worried. He'd learned by now my cues for when I was about to start teasing the living daylights out of him.

"So," I said, battling down more laughter. "Shall we try again? You see, this pretty leg isn't going to regain its proper function all by itself—"

Crispin groaned, putting a neat white hand over his eyes. "Stoppit! You're making it worse!"

I laughed again. "You are so much fun to tease."

"Thank you. I think." Crispin shook his head and stood. "Well, I don't think I can do that anymore, so why don't we see what you've regained of your memory?"

Aw. I wanted his hands back. I scowled. Crispin smirked. He quirked an eyebrow. Now it was his turn to tease. But it was also an end to our playful physical contact, and I had to go back to worrying about secrets, which was much less fun. I carefully crossed my ankles, wincing at the stretching of muscle and tendon. "Fine."

Crispin settled himself into the seat next to me. He went into his backpack, extracting from it the notebook he'd been using to keep track of my recovery. He flipped through a few pages, too quickly for human eyes to take in the contents. He was reviewing it at lightning speed in his vampiric way. He reached the page where he'd left off and stopped there, taking out his pen, a perfectly transparent one that he'd filled with green ink. He dated the page with a shining, silver nib. I caught myself staring at his handwriting again. I loved the dainty, slanting way he did his numbers. Very nice, as usual. It was nigh calligraphy.

"Right," said Crispin, softly. "Report. Still nothing about your parents?"

We had reviewed this several times during the past couple of weeks. They wanted to contact people who loved me and who might be worried about me. It was so good of them, especially a worried Dr. Cullen, who was so wonderfully legitimate and who was earning more respect from me by the day. How could I tell them that my parents were absolutely not worried about me? How could I do that without delving into the whole mess that was my mission, my original purpose here, my heritage, my terrible true form? I hadn't worked out some way to do this.

Luckily, there was an easy, if short-lived, way to get around this. For a while, my memory of their human-language names and human contact information had been gone. But that had only been for a while. Like many other things, I had remembered their names several days ago. I hated to add to the lies I was fabricating to hide myself from the vampires I was studying. But I did anyway. "Still nothing. I can see them, I remember their faces … but that's all."

I really needed to find some other excuse. This one would only stand for a little bit longer, if it still stood at all. I was sure Crispin was becoming aware of how much I was beginning to remember of things, such as words I had once forgotten and other basic facts that had slipped away from me. I hadn't been vigilant about which things I'd forgotten and which things I was supposed to still remember. He'd commented several times on my apparently improved recollection of vocabulary and the names of some of the pieces of medical equipment in my room. I was remembering. How much longer could I pretend that my parents were the only thing still missing?

Crispin quietly wrote down what I'd told him. I watched my hands, afraid he'd be able to see my lie in my eyes. He drew my attention again after a moment. "What do you remember of your home?"

I blinked once. This was off the usual beaten path of questions he was supposed to ask. Crispin saw what I was thinking and smiled. "I thought it might help you remember the most important things. Perhaps reliving some of your home memories will help you recover the rest. Why don't you start with your collection of shiny things?" He added, at a sudden thought. "You said you had a lot of broken rock pieces with quartz crystals in them."

I smiled a little. This was a good move on his part. Not only was he taking the right actions to help me recall my parents, he was also using the interrogation as an excuse to learn more about me. I leaned back into my chair, looking at the ceiling, trying to decide what was safest to tell him. He'd be able to use almost everything I said in his quest to guess at where I lived. Anything I said about weather, geography, or even the structure of my house would be analyzed for clues about locality. I would have to choose my words very carefully.

"I have quite a few pens, too, as you've probably assumed already," I said, thinking quickly. Crispin chuckled.

"I did assume. Would you like to try remembering which ones you have? Are they all shiny?"

My face twitched into a small smile. "I can try. I've got a … a Pilot Metropolitan in black with white dots around the center band."

Crispin made a small happy noise. "A good choice. Modern, but timeless."

I snorted, rolling my eyes. Cute kid. "And I have a TWSBI Diamond in Prussian Blue. I fill it with Diamine Asa Blue ink. Perfect match."

Crispin made another happy sound. "Good, good! That's a glossy one." I smirked a bit.

"If you say so."

"Where do you keep your pens?"

I closed my eyes for a second, trying to relax into the exercise. I saw in my head my room, the dark wooden desk, the drawer in it, the knob on the drawer, the knob etched with a small clover design. "There's a desk in my room. I have a pen case book—you know, all black leather with a fleece lining inside and little elastic bands to put the pens in."

"I should get me one of those." Scribble scribble. Crispin was making his notes. "What is your room like?"

"The bed is by the window," I said, wondering exactly how much detail was safe to go into. "The floor and the walls are wood. I have a big circular rug—it's my makeshift carpet. My desk is against the wall by the door."

"Good … good …" Crispin paused in his writing to look up. "Does your house have multiple floors?"

Odd question. "It does. My room is on the top floor, the attic."

"I see." Scribble.

I was getting tired of talking about myself. I wasn't the interesting one here, anyway. "Let's hear about your room, Crispin."

Crispin sighed, giving me a slightly disappointed look. "This was supposed to be an exercise in memory for you, not me."

"Well, I want to know."

A small grin twitched over his face. "Oh, Sera."

"Please," I begged, as sweetly as I was able. Crispin sighed.

"Sera, we're supposed to be finding out who your parents are, remember? Don't you want to go home?"

I held my breath for a moment. Oh, Mother Sun. It had been an emotionally charged question. I wanted to see my family again, yes, but that just … wasn't as simple as it looked to be. I had so much to work out. What was I going to tell them about my failure in my mission? What was I going to tell them about these vampires that I really didn't want to see killed? Worst of all, what would I say about the loss of my fireheart? I looked at my knees. My stomach hurt. How could I hope to keep Crispin safe? My vampire-hating people … would they learn to see as I now saw?

"Sera," said Crispin, gently. I glanced up to find him peering closely at me with his brilliant, worried golden eyes. "What's wrong?"

I sighed, heavily. How could I explain this all to him? All at once, I desperately wanted to. I wanted to spill everything, to show him what I now faced. Maybe we could think through it together. Maybe he could help me see some answer to the dilemma. But it was a stupid idea, of course. I still held out hope that his ignorance of the truth could protect him. My people would react to his knowledge of dragons with immediate aggression. Vampires couldn't be allowed to wander free knowing that we existed. We operated on the element of surprise. If vampires knew about dragons, vampires would find ways to escape dragons. They couldn't avoid what they didn't know was there. And those who did know? They had to be destroyed. Or captured. I saw again in my mind's eye Crispin pinned to the dragon-bone table with the silvery bindings holding him flat while Grandfather stood over him in a lab coat, fascinated by the new specimen, not seeing the terror and pain …

I clenched my teeth tight. Chills crawled over my skin. No. Not Crispin. I wouldn't let him be treated like an animal. I knew now that there was so much more than the bloodthirsty monster inside of him. And … not now. Not now that I had bonded with him. It would break me to see him caged and picked at, a study specimen, a lab rat. I'd sooner break my own neck than allow it.

Crispin was still waiting for his answer. I tried to decide what to say to him, still overwhelmed, unable to come up with some lie. He softly murmured, "I know you told me you weren't in any danger at home, Sera, I know that. But … are you sure you were telling the truth?"

I sighed again. He was still worried about that? I thought we'd left that behind. "Crispin, my family loves me. They won't hurt me, I promise. It's just … I don't think they'd understand …"

"Understand … you?" Crispin offered when I paused. I shut my eyes. Not me, exactly … they wouldn't understand him. His family. What I'd discovered about them. How I felt about him. Why I'd failed my terribly important coming-of-age assignment on purpose. Would they be willing to look past the old things we'd believed about Crispin's kind, to see the truth I was unraveling? The will of a dragon was not an easy thing to bend.

"Have you tried to talk to them about it?" Crispin offered, trying to be helpful. "Communication is the only way to foster understanding. You could … I don't know … don't be afraid to lay all the cards on the table, is what I mean."

I grimaced. Yeah, that wasn't necessarily the answer. It all depended on whether they'd be willing to bend out of the status quo. Which … dragons were stubborn, unmovable creatures. I just didn't see a way.

Wait. There was a way.

I sat up a little straighter, blinking, suddenly seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. There was a way to change things. It was desperately far-fetched, unlikely, the chance was only a small one, but … there was one dragon who held all the power, who could turn the tide of the law, who could divert even the will of the most stubborn, iron-necked elder … the Matriarch. The dragon-mother, the first of her kind, the ultimate authority, and my great-grandmother by many generations. My mind raced, excited. I was next in line to lead my Siege. I was destined to be her mouthpiece, the go-between, the only one permitted to enter her ancient, volcanic chamber. What if I exercised my authority now? What if I went to her, begged for understanding, pleaded my case, presented the evidence … ?

Oh.

My heart dropped into my stomach. I sagged slowly against my chair and rested my head back, closing my eyes. I suddenly wanted to cry. What was I thinking? I wasn't a dragon anymore. I had lost my authority, my fireheat, my true form … everything. I couldn't go face-to-face with the Matriarch now. Not when I was Sera. I had to be Seraphinartisa—the last direct descendant, the future mouthpiece—if I was going to go face-to-face with the ancient one. That was gone, now. All gone.

"Um … Sera?" Crispin's fingertips lightly touched my knee. I came to myself, rapidly blinking. My eyes were a little wetter than usual. Shoot. I licked my lips and cleared my throat, trying to come to myself.

"It's … I'm fine. I think I'm getting tired."

"Oh. I see." Crispin slowly lifted his finger off my knee. He looked concerned. He'd learned my personality enough by now to know that something was very wrong. I could see he wanted to press the issue, to get an explanation. I averted my eyes, refusing to say another word. This was well beyond the realm of things I could tell him. Crispin was still for a second, as though hoping I'd say something, anything. Then he sighed, faintly, and stood. "Alright. Come here. Let me help you."

I accepted his offered hands, trying not to look at his face. I really was getting tired, my emotions running away with me. I needed a nap. Hopefully it would be enough to bring me to my senses so I could have a good talk with him before it was officially bedtime. I was sorrowful over my loss and over the danger that Crispin was in, which he didn't even know about. I had let myself get attached. I had allowed myself to draw close to him, to be heart-to-heart with him. It was too late to go back. I had no hope of pretending that I didn't care about his survival. I was afraid for him.

Crispin helped me drag myself onto my mattress, carefully keeping the IV tube out of my way. He looked like he wanted to sit with me, but I didn't think that was a good idea. I needed to think. I had things to work out. And he couldn't be here for it. I had too many secrets to keep. So I quietly asked him to go, even though I really didn't want to. He left his pen with me, putting my notebook on my bedside table in case I wanted to write a little. He was such a sweet thing. Sweet vampire. Gentle vampire.

I sat cross-legged at the head of my bed for a very long time after he was gone, staring at my hands clasped tightly in my lap, angry at the world. What was I supposed to do? I was running out of time. They'd come after me, eventually, even if I never did call my parents. And then what? Crispin would be exposed. His family, too. Then they'd die. And I couldn't go flying off home. I couldn't fly! I couldn't face the Matriarch. How could I secure Crispin's safety without the final law of the ancient dragon-mother?

By the Sun, this was looking more impossible every day.