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Blue Moon, Chapter 5

MATT'S POV

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT, THIS IS MATT'S POV. AND WE'VE OFFICIALLY MOVED ON FROM TWILIGHT LORE.

WARNING: THERE'S LOTS OF SWEARING.

It has been over three hundred and forty years since I last saw Carlisle, and he's still managing to mess with things that need to be left well alone.

As a human, he couldn't understand that when your best friend tells you you're getting a little too close to uncovering real goddamned vampires, you DO NOT GO LOOKING FOR THOSE GODDAMN REAL FUCKING VAMPIRES.

I take a moment to compose myself, remembering to take deep breaths and hold onto my form. The last place I need to go about switching is in the middle of the street. Carlisle's street. The man didn't even bother to move. Didn't bother to move. He. Did. Not. Bother. To. Move. He decided to buy the house in which his life was made a fucking hell for twenty-three years and then thought it was a good place to visit.

I should probably calm down a little more so that I don't alert the curtain twitcher three doors down. The sun is on its way to setting and then I can lose control all I like without fear of being seen.

Calm down, Matteo. Calm down. Deep breaths. Deeeep breaths.

It takes me long minutes to take control of myself, but it's worth it when I do. I can think more rationally for now, and I can keep this ... human form. It irks me that my teeth ache from grinding them so strongly. As a dhampir, I don't usually have to worry about human things like jaw aches - not in the same way as they do - it's one of the benefits of half-vampirism. Another benefit is that I usually enjoy my time spent amongst humans. If I do end up grinding my teeth, it's not for long enough to cause pain. Twenty-five peaceful years here, ten war-torn years there, just long enough to live a life before I have to move on.

This quarter-century was supposed to be my time. My reward for service. Twenty-five years without being bothered by a single supernatural issue.

I've wanted to get a job at the British Library for centuries, but there was always one reason or another why returning to London was a bad idea. Little did I know Carlisle I can't just leave secret shit well alone Cullen would come and prove once and for all why vampires can't be trusted to make good decisions.

Last time I saw him, he said:

"I'm sorry Matteo, but I must do this."

Not "I think I need to do this," or "I could potentially be persuaded not to go and touch the damned vampires," but "I must." Carlisle had to prove to his father and his father's friends that he wasn't a sympathiser. He had to prove that he wasn't letting all sorts of threats pass by undetected.

"If you do this you will be killed," I'd warned him. "Others will lose their lives. This is not a game, Carlisle. This is-"

"Do you presume I doubt that?" he'd snapped. "You cannot believe I would take this chance, risk my life and the lives of others, for something of little to no import. You said yourself, Matteo: my study is correct. There are vampires in London."

"Yes! Vampires! Mortals do not cross vampires and live to tell the tale!"

But, of course, five years of friendship meant less to him than proving he could do something that others could not, and dhampirs cannot let humans know of their existence so what was I expected to do? Tell him I was a dhampir and expect him not to do anything about it? Out myself and suffer the consequences? So we'd argued for hours before he went and did exactly what I told him not to: he poked the hornet's nest and he got himself bitten for his troubles.

Dhampirs have rules. Laws. A dhampir cannot be friends with a vampire. A dhampir cannot reveal themselves to a vampire or a human. These are rules that cannot be broken. They cannot be broken. And now, thanks to a centuries-old promise I made him, I am going to have to break the laws I helped create and hope against all hope that the others allow me to do so.

No wonder I'm angry. No wonder I'm pissed right off. No wonder I can't stand Carlisle just now.

I am a Prince of my kind and I am about to risk being thrown from my throne because of Carlisle Cullen.

There's also the matter that I don't think he recognises me. He. Doesn't. Even. Recognise. Me. And I am bound to protect his wife and child if anything were to happen to him. That was fine back when he had neither of those things. Now he does. And, now I've met his wife and now that I am almost certain I will end up killing Carlisle at some point or another for sheer stupidity, I am honour bound to help her survive.

A man passes me by just as I begin to clap my hands - slowly clapping at the ridiculousness of my situation. His eyes widen. He darts to the other side of the road and hastens away. That's fair. My sneer likely makes me look half-crazed, as does standing in the shadows clapping like a madman. My hands fall to my sides. Leaning heavily against the wall, I think over the situation once again.

Carlisle Cullen, as a human, thought "Ah, let me mess with vampires," and, as a vampire, he thought, "Ah, let me mess with humans."

I thought he had more sense: he has never partaken in the blood of humans; he became a doctor; he gave me hope for vampires.

And now he does something like this?

Humans are fragile. They are breakable. They are, by nature, not things vampires should be impregnating on a whim.

Alright, I really do need to calm down.

It takes months and months for it to happen. So much control goes into creating a dhampir that even those who knew about our existence found it nigh on impossible to create one of us. Those who did create one, who then abandoned us to our fates, rarely survived long enough to try it again. We find each other, my kind. We find each other and we avenge our mothers.

Carlisle may be one of the few vampires with a case against his death. I can have hope of that, can't I? He seems to love her - Carys. He genuinely seems to want to protect her, and she seems to want to protect him in turn. He might not run and leave her. He might actually do the right thing. If he does, they might just survive it.

But I've looked into him again. Since I last checked up on him, he's formed a coven and I doubt he'd be willing to leave them and cast himself into the shadows of his own making. His coven fought and won against an army of newborns. They have the attention of the Volturi. The fucking Volturi.

I swipe at my forehead, listening to the blood pumping slowly through the fragile human veins. When I shift, it will be faster, stronger, my body will be the opposite of fragile.

This is bad. This is "the vampire world might just find out we exist again and then we'll have to kill most of them and start again" kind of bad. This is exactly what Harla has been preaching for millennia.

Fuck.

Harla is going to have a fucking field day with this. Two thousand years without us having to kill a vampire for siring one of us and here we are all over again, only there are only nine of us left and a hell of a lot of vampires who might need to be killed to keep our secret. And here we are with me of all people determined to protect an entire coven because of a stupid promise. Because the word of a dhampir is unbreakable. Because when a dhampir swears to protect you-

I should walk away. I should walk away right now and leave them be. I should keep my kind a secret. I should leave the sweet woman to her fate and come back when the time comes for the dhampir to be picked up and brought up with their own kind. I should steel and ready myself for killing Carlisle and his coven and any vampires who know what they've done.

But I, like Carlisle, cannot leave things well alone.

There was a time when this bound us as friends - more like brothers - but that was when he was human and his interests amused me. That time has long since passed. He can't even remember who I am, and I can't shake the guilt of not stopping his first death. I can't be responsible for his second one.

I think there are sympathisers among our ranks. If there are, there's more hope in this. If I'm correct, four of the nine think we should come out of the shadows and tell the supernatural world that they're not alone.

I suppose there are five of us now.

There's a chance.

Fuck. I'm doing it, aren't I?

I will cross this street. I will knock on that door. I will announce myself. And may the gods forgive me, I will align myself with the very beings my kind are raised to hate - the very kind I have killed more than my fair share of.

Let's hope it's worth it.

My thoughts slip into cadence with my footfall, every step falling in with a word:

Carlisle. Fucking. Cullen. You. Fucking. Twit. You. Absolute. Idiot. If. You. Survive. This. I. Will. Haunt. You. For. The. Rest. Of. Eternity. You. Absolute. Idiot. Touching. Things. You. Shouldn't. Be. Touching. Putting. Your. Dick. Where. It. Doesn't. Concern. You.

With each sharp knock on the front door, I think:

You. Better. Remember. Me. And. Quickly.

A/N: Let's face it. Of all the humans in the world who would know a dhampir prior to becoming a vampire, it would be Carlisle. I actually love Matt so much. I've been waiting to share him with you all for a really long time. It was supposed to happen from Carlisle's POV but to be honest, I didn't think it would do the situation justice and it would take longer to explain than it will if we understand Matt before it happens.

A really good question came up from JosieNightOwl: Matt doesn't know Carlisle and Carys are mates, but his comments about Carlisle staying with Carys suggest he's hoping they might be. Unmated vampires tend to abandon humans when they've made dhampirs with them but mated human/vampire pairings are so rare in the dhampir making process that it's only happened once before. More on that soon!