“I do.”
More grumbling while Azrael, presumably, consulted the Potestas. Xavier caught my gaze and held it, both of us praying for the same outcome.
“We will bless this union under the condition they raise this child to the best of their abilities, with absolute attention to his moral character.”
“Of course, my lord,” Xavier said with a slight bow, then thanked him for his blessing.
You began to stir, and I lifted you into my arms, ignoring Azrael’s presence entirely for the moment. You smiled in your sleep, and I prayed it was a pleasant dream and not Lena attempting to seduce you in your infancy.
“Lena has one more stipulation,” Azrael said.
I tore my eyes away from you to glare at him. What else had he agreed to on your behalf, that your beating heart be delivered to her on a silver platter when you came of age?
“Go on,” I said, irritated that Azrael hadn’t been more forthcoming.
“She wants him named Vincere.”
Vincere. In Latin, it meant to conquer.
Is that what she thought, that by sending you back to me as one of her own Nephilim brood, she had won? There was no way I’d give you over to her manipulation. Or to Azrael and the Order of Angels’ perverse sense of sacrifice. You were mine, and mine alone. I’d not lose you again.
“No harm will come to this child,” I warned everyone present, including Azrael. “No being will interfere with our soul bond. He was promised to me, and here and now, I claim him as my own. If anyone—god, beast, or human—attempts to harm him, I will vanquish them.”
My voice thundered against the wooden beams and echoed across the factory floor. I meant it with every fiber of my being. Azrael’s tone when he spoke was cold and clipped, showing absolutely no mercy and no remorse.
“Despite the obstacles presented to you, we are entrusting you to shepherd this bloodborn onto a godly path. And while we bless this union, know that if this child is used as a weapon against us, we will be forced to intervene. The same condition, Henri, applies to you.”
I could hardly hide the disdain in my voice when I responded with an icy, “Yes, my lord.”
“Now, bring him to me, so that I might bestow upon him my blessings of good health and virtue.”
I brought your sleeping form over to Azrael, who laid his fingers atop your tufted crown and whispered in an angelic tongue, a language reserved for those spirits who dwelt in the holy realms.
Your pretty dark eyes opened and went slightly cross as your lips pouted and your brow settled into a deep and pensive scowl.
Your fate was in my hands. I’d not fail you again.
3
Henri
In this life, as in your last, my Sundays were devoted to you.
I purchased Xavier’s condo on Miami Beach shortly after you returned, and he moved into Santiago’s guarded compound, which offered more security and ample grounds for you to explore in relative safety.
In addition to the endless views of the Atlantic, which reminded me so much of the cliffside vistas from my islands in the Tyrrhenian Sea, I chose this particular residence because whether or not you managed to regain your memories, I wanted you to at least have a subliminal connection to your past. I hadn’t decided how the truth might come about or when. Whether I should tell you myself or see what transpired without my interference. Whenever I reflected on your human life and how I’d robbed you of it prematurely, I fell into a desiderium from which it was difficult to surface.
After Catholic Mass, which Xavier insisted you attend faithfully, I’d visit at your house, or Xavier would bring you to my place, or we’d embark on an outing together. Your parents and I remained hyper-vigilant in keeping you safe during your waking hours, but we were frustratingly impotent when it came to your dreams.
The earliest evidence of Lena’s influence appeared when you were just uttering your first words. After papa, Onwee, and gato, there was mater, Latin for mother. Then, a few months later, Xavier told me you were speaking full sentences of gibberish. After listening closely, I determined it wasn’t gibberish at all.
“She’s teaching him Latin,” I confirmed during one of our many discussions about your overall health and well-being. We were at the beach—you, Xavier and me. I’d dug a shallow pit in the sand and filled it with sea water, so that you could splash around safely. The waves were rough that day, and even though I was a strong swimmer, I didn’t trust that you’d not be swept away. You were presently plunging your fingers into the wet shore and drawing up fistfuls of sand, each clump a treasure to behold. Safe within my sights.
“He wakes up speaking it,” Xavier said with a wrinkled brow. “Why couldn’t it be something more useful, like Spanish? Why Latin?”
“Our seductions are more potent when spoken in our mother tongue.”
Xavier’s scowl deepened. “Should we be worried?”
I nodded. Any evidence of her influence was troublesome, though it did not surprise me that she was already laying the groundwork to develop your powers. When Lucian and I were young, she took our education seriously and trained each of us to hone our unique abilities. My seduction enabled me to subdue my enemies and then, if necessary, defeat them with brute strength. Lucian was cleverer, a subtle manipulator who softened people’s wills with his beguiling appearance and silken voice, then used his cunning to plant ideas in their minds. Their thoughts became increasingly obsessive until whatever deed he’d manifested came to pass.
What would be your power, I wondered, and more importantly, to what end was Lena cultivating it?
“Have you tried reaching out to her lately?” Xavier asked.
“I’ve attempted numerous summons. She ignores them all.”
It was maddening to not know what Lena was planning or how she might be molding you already. You were so young, innocent. What if she was filling your head with tales of her demonic pursuits? Or showing you scenes of gore and depravity to try to pervert your psyche?
“Does he seem well-adjusted?” I asked, looking you over for any outward signs of distress.
“Yes, and he sleeps through the night.”
I grumbled at that. The longer and deeper you slept, the more opportunity Lena had to get her claws into you.
“Onwee,” you called, two bright notes that lifted my spirits whenever I heard them.
You held up a shell, and I rose and plucked it from your tiny fingers. It was a pearly cross-barred Venus shell with one perfect hole in its center.
“Very pretty, Vincent. Find me another.” Despite Lena’s naming, we’d decided to go with a more conventional version, a small act of rebellion on our part.
You beamed at the praise, and I strung a few strands of my hair through the shell, adding to your growing collection. I adjusted your sun hat to better shield your face. Even though it was overcast outside, the ambient light might still be too harsh for your sensitive eyes. We bloodborn were hyper-vigilant about the health and vigor of our eyes because that was oftentimes where our power manifested. Though, in my case, my voice had always been a far superior tool of seduction than my gaze.
When I’d settled beside Xavier again, he continued, “There’s something else we need to discuss. I’m thinking of organizing a regular playdate for Vincent.”