Page 104 of How a Vampire Falls

Leslie had never seen her parents so clearly before. So many memories clicked into place and suddenly made perfect sense. They had been acting on barely-healed wounds, and over time their wounded actions formed habits. And it sucked. Losing out on her own identity, culture, and pride—it all sucked, and she couldn’t turn back a clock and give these missing pieces to her childhood self.

But she was a vampire, for goodness’ sake. She had centuries to catch up on what that meant, to cultivate new layers of herself—not only as a vampire but also as a woman, as an artist, as an eternally bonded spouse.

“I understand,” she said. “You were hurt and scared, both of you.”

“It’s not an excuse,” Mom said.

“No, but you were trying to keep us safe the best you knew how. What you went through—stalked, threatened, physically attacked…”

The full truth of it finally struck her. Tears filled her eyes, and she couldn’t help it—she rushed to Dad and threw her arms around him. She imagined his fear and pain, ambushed and beaten by violent wolves.

“Oh, Dad. I’m so, so sorry they did that to you.”

She imagined Mom too, witness to the pain of the person she loved most in the world. If a wolf pack had nearly killed Ryker, Leslie would be hurting too, terrified it would happen again. And then to find out a tiny new life grew inside her, a life those same violent wolves wouldn’t hesitate to destroy…

She reached out and grasped one of her mom’s hands. “I know it was awful for you too, Mom. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for both of you for everything the Meredith wolves did.”

Mom’s eyes sparkled with tears, and Leslie lost her breath. She’d never seen her mother cry before. Never in all her life.

“Thank you, Les,” Mom whispered. “Can you forgive us for…for passing some of this down to you?”

“Oh, Mom. Of course I forgive you, both of you, one hundred percent.”

Then she was sandwiched by both of them as they all hugged. When they resumed their seats, Leslie pressed into Ryker’s side, and he put his arm around her again. She needed a good cry in the safety of his arms, a final release of the history they’d heard today. But now wasn’t the time.

In the ensuing quiet, Leslie had no idea what to do next, yet the sorrow of her parents’ story didn’t settle over them. Somehow the very house felt brighter, more open, as though it had known all these years that this conversation was needed, that the secret past needed to be known.

Suddenly Leslie needed Mom and Dad to know something too. She needed them to know what Senna and Laurence already knew. She looked toward Ryker and could only hope he guessed what she was trying to ask. He must, because he nodded with a smile that held both pride and joy.

“Um, Dad, Mom… Do you know about future-sight?”

Dad chuckled. “Do we ever. Your mother is on top of it.”

“Well, it turns out, so am I.”

“Oh!” Mom beamed, but then her face shadowed. “I never told you about this either.”

“My mama never told me until last week.” Ryker shrugged.

“That’s different,” Mom said. “You’re not a daughter.”

“Aha.”

“Not that wecan’tinherit it,” Dad said. “We’re just less likely to, and it doesn’t carry the same…traditions? Ceremony? Something like that.”

“Okay, listen up,” Leslie said. “I’m trying to tell you something.”

Her parents both went still, anticipation in every line of their bodies as they sat forward.

“One of the glimpses I’ve seen for Ryker and me is…a child.”

Her mother actually screamed. It was the most demonstrative moment of Debra Snow’s life as far as Leslie knew. Never in her life had she heard her mother shriek for joy, but it was happening now. All of Mom’s caution, all of her reserve, evaporated in a single instant. She was on her feet, dancing in place. Dad was too, swooping her around in a circle and then grabbing Leslie by both hands to pull her up and into a hug much longer than the last one.

“Hey,” Leslie laughed against his chest. “Hey. Y’all. Calm down. I’ve got zero timeline on this. Y’all might be two hundred by the time this happens.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” Mom said. “A grandbaby—oh, Leslie, I don’t care if I’m double that!”

Mom gave her a final hug—three in one day, surely a record—and Leslie let a few tears wash away the old confusion and hurt. Here were all the hidden truths, finally spoken, finally out of the dark corners and into the light. Like this dear old house, Leslie’s heart was bright and open.

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