Page 33 of The Diary of the Vam'pir Jacques

We saw her attackers approach her, calling out friendly greetings. We listened to her answer, laughing at a joke that was made.

Then, the tallest Paulas, who was also the eldest, took her by the arm while Gideo took her other.

Maryn’s voice was clearly heard asking if anything was wrong. Her gaze kept flicking from one face to another.

Martaous, the youngest, demanded to know what it was like to be the daughter of a Vam’pir. Instantly, we sensed her whole demeanour change and flick to the defensive.

Maryn replied that it didn’t matter what her mother was, she was still her parent. All she needed to understand was that her mother loved her, and Diana did. Maryn added in a whisper that she loved her mother dearly. Diana and Stefan were all she had blood-wise in the world.

Paulas demanded that Maryn repeat it, giving her a shake. We sensed her shoulders straighten as Maryn repeated what she had said in a firmer voice.By the way, memory evidence can also project emotions and feelings.

Samar, the last boy, sneered and asked if she ever worried Diana might drain her.

“No,” the word resounded throughout the chamber, strong denial, full of confidence, completely sure of her mother’s love.

Maryn was aware we didn’t drink from the vein. She instinctively understood she was safe from harm, at least from us.

I glanced across at Diana, and tears of blood ran silently down her face. As the memory continued, we saw the boys carry on with their jeering and cruel comments, and Maryn’s pain was clearly experienced by all.

Finally, they destroyed her resolve, and her anguish came through as her voice broke. Tears were wiped away as she asked them to let her pass.

Then she added a polite please.

Gideo took her by the arm again, only this time he shook her harshly. Maryn cried out that he hurt her, and we all saw his expression change through her eyes.

In a hissing, low tone, he told her that was the least of her worries. She pulled her arm free just as his fist slammed into her face.

Maryn stumbled back, her hand going to her nose. When she looked at her palm, it was covered in blood.

“Gideo!” Maryn cried, her voice muffled by the hand with which she was trying to stem the nosebleed.

Then Maryn suffered a blow to her stomach. Winded, she doubled over and caught a glimpse of Samar, his face twisted and glaring. Martaous then pulled her by the hair as the others began to pile punch after punch into her fragile body.

I didn’t want to watch, but my horror compelled me to see what they had done to an innocent child.

Maryn’s screams mingled with their shouts, and finally, she could not scream any more, not even when they broke her fingers one by one. Gideo let her fall to the ground, and before she could curl into a protective ball, he began kicking her in the stomach, and anywhere else he could reach.

We watched through a blood-filled haze at the hatred etched on their faces. She couldn’t whimper in pain as she had taken a kick in the throat, damaging her vocal cords. Finally, Maryn’s mind and body could no longer endure the punishment, and she slipped into oblivion.

How long we sat there, I don’t know, but finally, Maryn’s eyes opened slightly. They were badly swollen, and they fixed on the face of her attackers. They were sitting on the ground, studying their bruised and bleeding knuckles.

“The freak’s awake,” Samar announced.

Wounded beyond belief, Maryn tried to hold her arm in front of her, but she couldn’t stop Martaous’s boot connecting in her rib cage again.

“Go on, try to make your way back, bitch,” Samar said, rising to his feet.

“Please help me,” Maryn whimpered hoarsely.

“I’ll help you right into the afterlife,” Paulas replied, laughing as he grabbed Maryn’s long hair and tugged it. “I’ll tell you how we will help, we will let you go home, and we’ll follow to ensure that you get there.”

He released her hair and shoved her with his foot.

“Please,” Maryn begged, spitting out blood.

“Go,” Martaous demanded, kicking her again.

Maryn flinched.

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