Summer, now forty, sighed pointedly as Eliot stepped into the parlor of the London home they had now shared for nearly a decade. Refusing to look up at his approach, she over-dramatically turned the page of the book she had been reading that morning.
“Something on your mind, Summer?” he asked knowingly as he reached for the bottle on the stand next to the lush living chair she was seated in.
“Not as much as is on yours, I’m sure,” she mumbled her reply, turning another page without even seeing the words printed there.
“I know you’re unhappy about the situation Summer, but...” he just shook his head, sat down in another nearby chair, and poured his drink, not sure how he had meant to finish that sentence after all.
“Unhappy that I’ve been fulfilling your promise to be some ancient vampire’s pet mage just because you’re afraid of even being in the same room as any of them who might care enough to read your mind?” she asked angrily. “Why would I be upset about that?”
Eliot sighed in return, “I did tell Hollister that I would help him after I saved Claire, but then we needed a place to live in ‘his city,’” he looked down, not happy about the situation himself. “So he insisted he get something in return for letting us live here now. If it was so easy to stand up to a five hundred year old vampire Prince who runs all of London, then, why haven’t you?”
She just glared back at him before responding, “Because, like Hollister, I assumed that you would eventually follow through on your promise to him and let me off the hook. But it’s been ten damn years, and you won’t tell anyone when exactly this so-called prophecy is coming for Claire!”
Eliot let out another sound of frustration, “You know I can’t do that, Summer. You’re a mage too. You know damn well how anyone knowing the future can---”
She just dropped the book to the stand next to her, almost looking defeated. “That excuse is getting so old, Eliot. I gave up Lucian, and Kirielle, and it’s been years, and still...” she shook her head again, just staring down at the floor rather than looking back at him.
“And I gave up Claire,” he reminded her in a whisper.
But then her dark eyes filled with anger as she did look back his way. “Did you seriously just say that?”
He gave her a puzzled look, “How is that surprising? You know she’s the reason I even did all of this to begin with.”
“You met Claire when? The 1860s? Twenty years before I was even born? You? The one who doesn’t even age anymore? You’re telling me what you gave up?” she glared at him again as she stood. “That’s really fucking rich!” and with that, she exited the room, leaving Eliot behind to drop his eyes to the floor at the weight of her words.
It wasn’t much later that day, just barely past noon, when Eliot heard Summer banging around in her bedroom. With narrowed eyes, he stood and made his way to her door. There she was angrily shoving clothes into a large box.
“This is a bit extreme, isn’t it Summer?” he asked worriedly. She only scoffed in return and continued packing away her things. “Where are you even going to go?” he added, attempting to use logic then.
“As long as it’s a place Hollister doesn’t own, I won’t owe him anything anymore,” was all she said.
“So you’re just going to disappear? I really doubt he’ll be alright with that, Summer,” he continued attempting to find any reason he could to convince her not to go.
“Well, it’s your debt. You can explain it to him. I’m done.”
“You know I can’t---”
“Can’t be near him?” she just rolled her eyes. “Do you honestly think he’s going to go digging through your head for some random nonsense some crazy vampire said centuries ago? Then call up Claire and Sean and tell them what he saw there? I somehow doubt he even cares about some ridiculous prophecy that has nothing to even do with him, Eliot,” she mumbled as she continued her task.
“It’s not just that that’s in my head, Summer. And of course a man as powerful as him would want to know the future. Everyone wants to know... until they actually do,” he added more quietly.
“I just cannot---” she then stopped mid-sentence as she looked around the room suddenly.
Eliot looked back at her in confusion, “Summer?”
“Quiet!” she bit back, as if trying to concentrate on something then.
He was a little taken aback by her outburst, but allowed her a moment to concentrate on whatever it was that had suddenly redirected her attention from her current tirade.
“Shit,” she whispered.
“Care to share?” he asked worriedly.
She seemed to be struggling to hold back emotions then, “Sean just did his... thing,” was her only explanation.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, not able to stop his mind from imagining what that could have possibly meant, considering her past affair with Sean.
“That thing they do! Which they still do. Even though all the rich folks have those telephone things now. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” she mumbled. Though she had stopped her packing, and was now biting her nail nervously.
“I think you’re leaving some words out, Summer,” Eliot replied skeptically.
“He just contacted me, in my head. You know they can do that.”
“Um, OK, but why?” he had to ask, equally curious and worried.
“Kirielle,” she swallowed a lump in her throat.
“Kirielle...?” Eliot replied with a raise of his brow.
“She’s... missing,” she answered, choking back tears as she moved to wrap her arms around Eliot, their previous argument all but forgotten now.
After a long moment, Summer ended the hug and moved back, wiping away tears and trying to catch her breath. She then braced herself, closed her eyes, and began concentrating.
“What are you doing?” he asked warily, knowing her well enough to know when she was about to use any of her powers.
“Going back of course,” she returned, as if he should have already known that answer.
“Summer, wait,” he told her desperately.
“Wait? Why the hell would I wait? I practically raised that girl for the entire first half of her life! Be serious, Eliot!”
As she started to cast again, he quickly spoke up, “Don’t go!”
She then turned to look back at him with utter disbelief, “Why the hell would I not go?”
Eliot’s breath shuddered then, a million thoughts screaming through that overcrowded brain of his, trying desperately to find an answer he could safely give her.
“That’s it, I’m leaving,” Summer retorted, not having enough patience to cancel out the fear she felt for Kirielle in that moment.
“I need you to stay, Summer,” Eliot told her, his own fear causing his voice to shake urgently.
She gave him another look of outrage that he would ever ask her to ignore the danger Kirielle could be in then. “So help me, if you even try to say I need to stay because of Hollister...” she growled the words.
“It’s not that,” he breathily tried to assure her.
“Then what the fuck is it?” Summer shot back in the face of the audacity of him asking this of her.
He took another deep, shaky breath before forcing himself to give her an answer, as much as he dreaded doing so, “Because this, what’s happening right now, with Kirielle... It has to happen.”
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“Come on, let’s get you home,” Claire’s voice broke into the haze in Lucian’s brain at that moment as he continued to lean hopelessly against the wall, running a hand through the normally perfectly coiffed black locks which were now beyond disheveled.
“Home?” he asked, voice breaking, as the last of the Kindred who had been helping had now gone home themselves, and their remaining servants had also now moved off to scour the city as the sunrise loomed ever closer.
“She might turn up there, after all. You should be there if she does,” Claire reasoned as she linked her arm with his and began leading him toward the nearest waiting streetcar.
He didn’t speak again until they reached his home and exited the car, “Are we really supposed to just go to sleep for the day, hoping that a bunch of servants can find her, when none of us could?”
Claire turned her eyes downward, trying to find some words that could offer him any comfort at all. “The sun comes up in under an hour. And if this was her mother, she’ll not be a threat once that happens, anyway.”
“And if it somehow wasn’t Penelope, who knows what could happen to her if we wait a whole day before trying to find her again?” Lucian managed to make a valid point despite his current inner turmoil.
“I understand that concern, I do. But what do you think we can do in under an hour that we haven’t already tried, Lucian?”
“I’ll summon her. I was hoping we’d find her another way, but now time is almost up and it could already be too late. I need to know that she’s alright, Claire!” he told her desperately as they reached the porch in front of his home.
Claire looked up at him, feeling his pain then as well. But she had to make one more point that he may not be able to see. “And what if she did go with Penelope willingly? Do you really want to use your powers on her, to force her to come to you? It may backfire, Lucian.”
“I’m willing to take that risk, Claire,” he stated, traces of red obvious at the corner of his dark eyes.
Claire shook her head, “But I’m not. I’ll summon her myself. Then if she’s going to hate one of us for taking her choice away, it won’t be you,” she told him with a soft hug before leading him into the house with her.
But once they entered the home, their superior hearing easily caught the sound of quiet sobbing coming from Kirielle’s bedroom. With no thought for his own safety, Lucian rushed into the room, Claire on his heels.
There Kirielle was curled into a ball, sobbing next to her bed, “Kir'..” Lucian whispered, moving toward her.
“Lucian?” she whispered as she uncurled herself, and sat up to look back at him with scared blue eyes, red tears trickling down her pale cheeks.
“We’re too late,” he whispered, his voice filling with despair the moment he saw those tears on her now even paler skin.
Claire tried to keep her composure as it was obvious that Lucian’s was long gone at that moment. “Tell us what happened, Kirielle,” she whispered softly as she took a step closer while Lucian just stared back at her in shock.
“I...I... It’s so... hard...” Kirielle’s voice stammered, the tears still flowing.
“It’s OK, take your time... Just start when you were backstage tonight... what happened to make you leave?” Claire attempted, kneeling down to try and meet her teary eyes, though still keeping a distance between them.
That was when Kirielle moved her hands to her temples with anguish, “I... I can’t think! It’s too loud! It won’t stop! God just make it stop, please!” she begged them, causing Claire and Lucian to look at each other with even more fear and despair then.
“What’s going on, Claire?” Lucian asked desperately. “You said they weren’t as... weren’t exactly like the Malkavians, and she’s... she’s...” his eyes brimmed with more tears as he looked back at where Kirielle desperately pressed her palms to her ears now.
Claire looked back at him sadly, “Listen, I saw enough to know what happened to her tonight. And what’s happening to her now, sort of,” she said softly. “But we barely have any time before dawn, and us all making it through the day is the most important thing right at this moment,” she told him with regret as she quickly moved to throw covers over Kirielle’s windows in preparation for the day that all three of them would now be forced to slumber through.