Blaise leaned against a tree trunk in the quiet of the woods, his gaze fixed on the ground beneath him.
"The happiness I had at first after I turned into a vampire started to fade. Raphael and I fought, Lucien. Over the Blood Oath and everything else," Blaise said. "Raphael wanted power and influence in the vampire world. He believed me completing the Blood Oath would give him that."
He paused, searching for the right words. "But I couldn't do it. I couldn't go through with it. So many things happened..." his voice trailed off, and he looked sad. "It was just one thing after another. It was just very tumultuous at times. When Raphael decided to go to Europe to connect with other vampires, he wanted me to join him," Blaise continued, bitterness cutting his voice. "But he made it clear that I had to complete the Blood Oath first, as if that was the only way for me to be by his side."
Blaise shook his head, looking sad now. "I refused yet again, and in his anger, Raphael finally cast me aside like I was nothing. He kicked me out and left for Europe without me. I was left with nothing, nowhere to go."
Blaise sighed. "I don't know what to do now, Lucien," he admitted. "I gave up everything for Raphael, and now I'm left with this emptiness. I'm lost."
As Blaise's words hung in the air, Lucien silently contemplated everything he had just heard. Blaise had been manipulated and mistreated, Lucien realized. Raphael took advantage of him, leading him into a world of darkness and false promises.
Lucien couldn't help but feel a surge of anger at Raphael's actions. How could he exploit Blaise's feelings like that? To push him to forsake his own humanity, to demand his loyalty through twisted rituals. To try to force him to murder an innocent person!
Blaise's voice cut through Lucien's thoughts. "Are you going to tell anyone?"
Lucien's gaze lifted to meet Blaise's eyes. He recalled Maisy's words about Blaise returning when the horse was found with bite marks on its flank. Troy seemed to know something, too, at that time. It struck him now that they must have known about Blaise being a vampire all along. And the animosity Blaise's mother harbored towards him was unmistakable. She had vehemently refused to allow him inside the house, an indication that she might be aware of Blaise's true nature. His thoughts then shifted to his own father. Did he know something as well? Was he the only one who didn't know?
"I can't help but wonder," Lucien began cautiously, "why does your mother seem to harbor such hatred towards you? And if she despises you so much, is it possible that she knows the truth as well? Do they all know you're a... a vampire?" It was almost ridiculous to say such a sentence out loud.
Blaise's eyes narrowed, a touch of haughtiness creeping back into his expression. "My mother has always been cold and distant," he replied bitterly. "I've always been the black sheep to her. Her refusal to let me in the house was simply her disdain my very existence. As for the rest of my family, they suspect that something is wrong with me, that is true. But they believe I suffer from a mental illness, or some physical ailment that causes me to have a thirst for blood. They don't know I'm a vampire. They don't believe in vampires. And they don't know Raphael is one, either." Blaise's gaze locked with Lucien's. "If you tell them the truth, I cannot return to the house with you. Ever."
Lucien's brows furrowed as he considered the ultimatum. Even if he were to tell them, what would it accomplish? Blaise didn't seem to pose a threat to humans, especially the innocent. And would they even believe Lucien if he said it?
"Alright, Blaise. I won't tell them. Your secret is safe with me."
Blaise visibly relaxed, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes. The weight of the burden he had been carrying seemed to lessen, if only slightly.
Lucien's gaze wandered around the woods. It was now night, and hard to see anything at all. "Do you know how to get back home, Blaise?"
Blaise nodded, his expression calm and assured. "Yes, I spend a lot of time out here. I know the way."
"Good," Lucien said, feeling like he would melt with relief. "Let's go back to the house."
***
The next day greeted them with an overcast sky. It was humid, and the air felt thick enough to crush Lucien.
It was clear that Marie was in a bad mood . She stomped, slammed doors, and clattered the dishes when she washed them. Lucien even heard her break one dish, but didn't know if it was an accident or on purpose. The tension in the air was palpable.
Last night's adventure had exhausted Lucien, so he slept well past breakfast. When he did descend for lunch, Marie's sharp gaze, filled with a silent accusation, landed squarely on Lucien. She resented his involvement in Troy's decision to allow Blaise to stay, and was not afraid to show it.
He'd never seen her like this before! He'd certainly never been the target of her wrath.
As the day unfolded, Lucien witnessed his father's valiant attempts to reason with Mother. Their conversations were hushed, filled with gentle pleas and measured arguments. Marie listened with crossed arms and a scowl on her face; Lucien wasn't sure Father's attempt to calm her down were working. Troy tried reasoning with her, too. But she wasn't being a reasonable person, so what was the point?
Lucien knew it was pointless for him to try to explain himself again. She was emotional, and needed to cool down. Lucien chose to keep his distance, sensing that any direct interaction with Mother would only escalate her anger further.
As the day wore on, Lucien decided he ought to practice his violin. He retreated to the study, closing the door behind him, shutting out the remnants of tension that still lingered in the house. Inspired by the shocking revelation of Blaise's true nature, Lucien felt compelled to translate the profound darkness into musical form. With his instrument nestled under his chin, he began to play, the bow gliding effortlessly across the strings.
Each note resonated through the room, filling the air with a haunting melancholy. Lucien's fingers danced along the fingerboard, effortlessly finding the perfect pitch, his movements guided by instinct. The sound, both mournful and captivating, echoed what he felt in his heart.
As the composition took shape, Lucien's bow glided with purpose, exploring the depths of his violin's range. He weaved intricate melodies, intertwining minor keys with dissonant harmonies, evoking an eerie atmosphere that sent shivers down his spine.
Yet, despite the initial burst of inspiration, he hit a creative wall. The piece refused to progress. Lucien sighed in frustration, recognizing that forcing the music would only stifle its true essence.
Reluctantly, he set his violin aside, placing the unfinished composition carefully on the desk. He knew that sometimes the creative process demanded patience and perspective. He would return to it another time, when inspiration struck anew.
Lucien carefully placed the violin back in its rightful spot, treating it with the utmost reverence. His gaze shifted to the ornate little clock adorning the desk—a delicate masterpiece crafted from polished mahogany and adorned with intricate gold engravings. He realized that the hour was drawing near, the hands inching closer to the time when Blaise would awaken. His sleep schedule made more sense now that Lucien knew his secret.
He hoped against hope that the storm within Mother's heart had subsided enough to allow for a civil interaction with her son. She did seem at least a little less angry last time he passed by her. She'd been relaxing on the couch, reading a book, and even gave Lucien a small, albeit unenthusiastic, smile when he passed by. That was around 3 o'clock in the afternoon, just before he had gone off to play the violin.
Maybe father or Troy had finally spoken some sense into her. Lucien didn't know her side of the story with Blaise, but from what he had heard, Marie was willing to turn a blind eye to Raphael and Blaise's indiscretion when she was receiving money. And she was blaming Blaise for things Raphael had manipulated him to do. None of it seemed fair to Lucien.
Lucien thought back to the conversation from the night before, after they had arrived at the house, his mind retracing the words shared between him and Blaise. He had offered sincere advice, and Blaise had seemed receptive at the time. But deep down, Lucien knew the extent of Blaise's pride, his haughty disposition that often led him astray. Would he be able to keep his lips shut and just not say anything rude? Lucien laughed a little to himself. Blaise wasn't afraid of talking back, that was for sure. It had its own charm, but he needed to refrain from doing that today.
Could Blaise truly set aside his pride long enough to get back into his mother's good graces?