Everlasting

Chapter 24

Wulfric

I had a bad feeling going into this meeting that Griffin wasn't ready to become immortal and maybe never would be. It could very well have turned out to be a waste of everyone's time if he ultimately decided against it. Not to mention, I would be much happier avoiding my father.

I should have canceled the meeting, or better yet, not scheduled it at all to begin with.

Now, things had turned out far worse than I even anticipated going in. I had a hard time focusing on what was happening around me, and had scarcely registered that Roderick had freed me from my crystal prison.

Griffin, oh God, Griffin. What had I done? How could this have happened? He had provided my sole nourishment ever since that first time we laid together.

The sickness he suffered afterward, the one that still plagued him sometimes... that had to be from me. From what I took from him without either of our knowledge and without his consent.

I felt sick.

Griffin's parents pulled him toward the door, and I watched in silent agony as he walked away from me. What must he be thinking? How would he cope with such revelations? I wanted to be there for him, but I was the wrong person to provide comfort at such a time. No, anything I did or said would only make him feel worse. It was, after all, my fault.

I should have asked more questions of my father. Should have bothered to do even the smallest amount of research during my long life instead of sitting back and accepting my father's words for the truth. Why hadn't I doubted him more? I always knew there were things he wasn't telling us; I just never imagined they could be so important.

Just before he would have disappeared from my sight, Griffin turned back and offered me a soft look, one of clemency. He didn't blame me, even though he should.

I stared at my hands, which had not changed in four hundred years. I always thought I knew the price. Watching my family die one by one, never going out in harsh sunlight, and having to prey on others to sustain myself had seemed a high enough price to pay. How much pain had I wrought without ever realizing it?

Four hundred years. I was personally responsible for robbing over four hundred years collectively from my victims.

Benedict, my uncle, was long dead. His children had been robbed of their father and my aunt robbed of her husband well before his time.

My mother had been isolated from the rest of the family, aging apart from us and dying so long ago I couldn't remember more than the most basic things about her.

My mother...

My mother.

"What have you done?" I demanded, stalking toward my father.

His eyes were hard and he turned away from me. It seemed his inclination to explain himself had run out. But I would not let this go, could not let this go. "My mother. You always said the spell would only work for your blood kin," I said.

"And as your friend here explained, that was no lie," Father said smugly.

"Because you designed the sigil as such. You could have chosen to place another symbol there, no?" I looked to Roderick for confirmation.

"Yes, there are ways of encompassing one's household instead of one's blood," he confirmed.

"Which means you chose to leave my mother, your wife, out of your curse. Why? Why did you do it? Why make monsters of us all, why let us drain people of their lives? And why not at least offer us the comfort of our mother?"