Fate is Funny like that

A tall, lanky figure sped through the night, impossibly gaunt and running faster than should have been possible—an inhuman speed.

The figure’s grace wasn’t human either. He—for in fact it was a male—avoided stones and boulders and roots the same way a gazelle would, even though he was obviously panic-stricken and holding a bundle in his long arms. I sighed internally.

I was dreaming, and it was about Dad. That only meant one thing: Dad had gotten himself into trouble again, and I needed to go check on him.

I always saw his past memories like this, as though I was watching them from somewhere comfortable and taking his measure.

The dream continued, and I hoped it would give me some idea as to the trouble he had found this time.

Dad had, after all, decided to become a champion of justice to seek redemption for all of his… youthful misdeeds and committed horrors. I will grant you, my father Liam was one of the nastiest of the undead in the last four centuries—he was in the top five—so he had a lot to make up for, and I wouldn’t have wanted to be his conscience. But Dad was also my Dad, and for all he had done wrong… he had done so much right by me.

The male figure ran under the starlight until he found a village. He went door to door until he found the village witch. Once at her door, he fell to his knees and begged her to save the infant he had fed on. The babe was clearly dead, but still he pleaded.

She eyed him with consternation.

“Why, vampire? What do you care?”

Her hip jutted out and her coppery eyebrow arched as she waited. It was better than he would have received from anyone else.

“Please!” he wailed. “I’ll do anything. Undo what I have done!”

He hung his head and wept at her door.

She pursed her lips and slowly nodded. “You got ahold of a vroxcythe.” She shook her fiery locks that stuck out every which way and blew out a breath.

“What are you saying…?” He was clearly distraught, and nothing was connecting in his mind.

She leaned back against the doorframe of her hut. “A creature whose blood can bring back a soul… even to one as dark as you. The demonic impulses of the vampire are crushed beneath its purity. Vroxcythes are almost unheard of. It could only have been fate that led you to it. Sadly, there is nothing that I can do for the child. However, I have a feeling that it served its purpose.”

Anger began to grow in his eyes, along with a strange twinkling… I knew that twinkle.

“Witch! What do you mean? Speak plainly!”

She pressed her lips into a firm line and seemed to come to a decision.

“Vampire, do you wish to be human in mind and heart, or continue as this cruel creature that you have become? Decide now!”

He was taken aback, and I could see his answer was reflexive.

“I want to be human. I cannot bear this way of life! But bring the child back!”

She sighed. “Did you not hear me? The child is dead. You killed it. But you can atone.”

She chanted something that I couldn’t make out three times, and a blast of light hit him square in the chest, knocking him over into unconsciousness. The child’s body was flung into the grass, and the witch went to gather it.

Her pale features held pain as she picked up the swaddled little body. Her green eyes glowed, and she nodded.

“Well, at least you felt no fear or pain, little one. May this be your ticket away from this hell. Play in the light, tiny one.”

With that, she turned away and carried the small body to the hill that served as the village’s cemetery.

The male figure lay in the grass under the stars.

I knew this story.

It was the night my father got his soul back.

Well, if it was about this, there were a dozen possible problems it could point to… but it could also mean that something—or someone—was trying to dislodge Dad’s soul again. A lot of nasty heavy hitters would love to get my Dad back on their side… and that was something that could never happen.

If Dad turned back, it would be a severe blow to the side of good.

My eyes snapped open. I felt cold, and my mind was absolutely clear—not a shred of dream fog. Yep. This had been a warning.

Sitting up, I checked my watch. Dad was currently hanging his hat in New York. We were a time zone out of sync. I would need to go see him physically. I honestly hadn’t figured a phone call would fix this anyway, but I had hoped to gather more intel.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the flimsy cot and busted box spring I had passed out on—to hell with the Council and their BS budget cuts for their operatives—I scrubbed a hand over my face and got up to splash some water on it.

I grabbed my jeans as I headed for the shabby, broken-down bathroom of the roach motel I was staying in while I waited for my current target to show himself, pulling them on as I went.

In the bathroom, I rested my hands on either side of the sink and eyed my reflection. The cracked, yellowing mirror showed the deep dark circles under my eyes. I was tired.

Dark circles, brown eyes, black curls, black tank top… my naturally tanned skin was turning a sickly shade from too many late nights on assignments.

To the Council, people like me weren’t human; we were tools to be used until we broke and then discarded… but that was the least troubling thing they did. The Council was horrific, and I can honestly say they were the worst beings I had ever had the misfortune to meet. Keep in mind, I grew up trudging along with my Dad on his quest to atone for his past. I have seen some putrid stuff.

Unfortunately, due to my bloodline, I was inextricably tied to them.

Dad didn’t know what I had gotten mixed up in. He could never know, because if he did, he would try to get me out… and he would never forgive himself for leaving me at the university.

See, the spell that had re-ensouled Dad also effectively hid me from the Council’s radar.

They normally found kids like me before we turned five.

Which led to a lot of horrifying things for the kids they found.

Dad had unknowingly shielded me… and he had also trained me. That training was still saving my life.

I was one of the top vampire headhunters, and the Council had no clue why… and I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell them.

When the Council found me and gang-pressed me into their ranks, I was given a choice. Since I was one of the more gifted healers of my generation—later I found out the only healer in three generations—I could either marry a wealthy and aristocratic member of their ranks, or head to the field and play supernatural field agent to protect the Council’s interests in the supernatural community at large.

A wealthy arranged marriage to a hot guy sounds pretty good, right?

Sure—so long as I wanted to die on my wedding night.

When something looks too good to be true—if it feels off—it is off.

My unnaturally suspicious nature paid off. I did some snooping and found out the real plan.

It was a seldom-used custom among the Council to marry a powerful magic user to a weaker one. During the wedding night, part of the stronger user’s power was taken and split with the weaker spouse. Upon death, all of the power went to the weaker spouse. It had been started for protection in ancient times.

However, the Council already had the magic user they felt my abilities would serve better than me… and he would have been happy to use my abilities for the Council’s benefit.

They figured a young college girl would never choose field operative over hot hubby.

Boy, did they get the wrong girl.

So off I went to the field.

The Council is still pretty miffed at me and keeps giving me the hardest and most dangerous assignments to get me to give up and get married. They have no idea how stubborn I am—which is probably a good thing.

Being in the field also put me in a great position to network and get in their way. Although I would prefer not to deal with them, I understood why I was where I was.

Fate is funny like that.

My life looked a lot different than Dad had pictured, but I wasn’t really shocked. Maybe the way it happened… but not that I had stayed in this arena. Heck, I grew up here.

The original plan had been for me to get my degree and live a somewhat normal life. I had told Dad that wasn’t going to be a thing—I simply knew too much, and besides, I had no interest in a so-called “normal” life. But Dad insisted I would be happier.

So I said okay, and we agreed that if I hated college, I could do whatever I wished… so long as I stayed away from vampires.

Wow.

I shook my head.

I was aligned with most of the powerful vampire groups throughout America, Moscow, and Romania, along with the Vampire Council—the sibling council to the one I worked for.

Truth be told, I had more ties to the undead than I did to the living. Disturbing to think about… but ehhh. Sorry, Dad.

I looked down at my watch again. It had a lot of history. A simple wristwatch—black band, classic black numbers, gold face. It was old, not worth much, easily overlooked. And to a little girl who had just been traumatized, it was a symbol of trust—an anchor for her broken heart.

I ran my fingers over the face and around the band. I shouldn’t wear it; it was a potential link back to Dad and could jeopardize his safety. The Council can track by energy signature; they had no idea about Dad, and it needed to stay that way if I wanted to keep him safe.

Even though I had done the work and disconnected all of his energy signatures from it, it was still a risk.

But I couldn’t help myself. I was still sentimental, and the truth was that when I felt small, Dad’s watch helped remind me of who I was—and that I could make it through anything I set my mind to.

I missed him. I wished I could tell him everything.

...............And I’d felt small a lot since getting dragged into the Council’s hands.

Dad had adopted me after my birth mother tried to end me in a house fire. He took a wrong street, and due to his vamp hearing, he heard me and saved me.

He tried to give me back to her over my protests, only to have the situation repeat itself.

I remembered the second time he saved me....once we were away from the fire, he had held me in his arms for a long time. I remembered the burning smell and how shaken he had been. When he pulled me out again—it took more effort that time— he got us as far as he could before he just crumbled and sagged down onto the sidewalk.

He didn’t say anything. He just took his watch off of his wrist and fastened it onto my small one. I remember how big it looked on me—almost silly.

He stayed holding me for a long time. Then he gathered me closer and stood in one swift, fluid motion.

“Let’s go home, baby.”

I nodded—and promptly passed out.

When I woke up, I was home. Dad’s and my home.

Dad learned how to brush my curls and have tea parties with stuffed animals. He learned to cook for a small girl.

I learned that I could trust someone. That when somebody with a good heart yelled, it wasn’t the end of the world. It didn’t mean they didn’t love me or that they would leave. I wasn’t scared to spill a glass of juice anymore.

I learned to fight. To think.

Dad learned that he was happier with someone else around—and that he could trust himself to heal a broken heart.

I ran my fingertips around the old watchface and took a deep breath. Whatever was coming, Dad wouldn't have to face it by himself. Even if he tried.

Time to book a flight to New York.