Page 47 of Hupotasso
“Yes it is,” I shake my head. “I want to talk about it with you, but I thought you didn’t want to know. You seem so, so…”
“So...? Am I unapproachable? I pray I’m not.”
“No, I meant you’re so together. And royal,” I add in a small voice.
“I wasn’t always,” she shakes her head. “But Angelina, whatever the issue is there’s still hope for you, for Falcon.”
‘No, there fucking isn’t.’
I sip my tea and wait until my tremoring subsides before broaching the subject of Falcon’s sister and her ‘template’ information.
“I’ve been talking to someone,” I start, nodding as she hands me a biscuit. Uncharacteristically, I set it aside on my saucer, too nervous to contemplate sweets.
“Oh? Who have you met?”
“Asumpta.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me, Eleanor, why did Falcon’s father allow you to save her and her sister? Falcon told me all vampire bastards are killed at birth.”
“It was an aberration,” she shrugs, her eyes not meeting mine.
“An aberration?”
She clears her throat and puts on an innocent expression, but tonight I have no patience for niceties, manners, or skirting around important words with innuendo and artifice. Tonight, I don’t give a damn.
“Eleanor, was Falcon your first child?”
Her teacup rattles against the plate like an earthquake has just hit, and she carefully places it down on the coffee table in front of us before looking up at me, her eyes full of pain.
“What do you really want to know, Angelina?”
“I want to know if Falcon had an older sister.”
“He had an older sister, yes,” she sighs, closing her eyes momentarily before opening them again and meeting mine. I get the sense she wants to tell me, but she needs me to ask. That whatever secret she holds is too old, too hard to give up without a fight.
“Was she taken for use as a template?”
“She was,” she whispers. “Asumpta should never have discussed this with you.”
I stare at her. I’d guessed as much, but hoped I was wrong. To have this woman, the only friendly face in this vast, stark castle full of ruthless vampires and indifferent staff admit such a thing is almost more than I can bear.
“And is she…?”
“She’s lost to us,” she murmurs. “And, no, the boys don’t know. The secret of the templates is kept by the mothers and fathers; although the pain is only borne by one of us. A secret and a pain you don’t need to know if you never birth a girl.”
“I trusted you,” I whisper. “How could you?”
“How could I?” she moans. “What choice did I have, Angelina? I bore the bite. I was held in thrall by the most vile, evil creature you can imagine. No words or actions were my own, only my thoughts — and oh, how those thoughts tortured me. Thoughts of escape, of hiding, of murder, of destruction. But that’s all they could ever be, just thoughts. You don’t understand because Falcon hasn’t bitten you.”
I gasp.
“You knew that?”
She avoids my eyes.
“Was there nothing you could do for your child?” I whisper. “At all?”
