“It has to happen?” Summer shot back, fear and anger sharpening her tone.
Eliot tried to push down his own fears of allowing any of the knowledge of the future he had in his head to be known by anyone else at all. But he knew that there was no way Summer would stay unless he used that knowledge to finally convince her.
“What’s happening with her now, it leads to something else happening,” he began, despite the anger still flaring in her eyes. “And that something else directly leads to the part of the prophecy I need to save Claire from.”
“What?” was all she could say in return.
“Trust me, Kirielle will be OK... mostly,” he added more quietly.
“Mostly?” she retorted, the fear just barely edging out her anger then.
Eliot took another deep, shaky breath, knowing very well how dangerous the ground he was treading on now actually was. “Do you remember why I left America this time?”
“Can we get back to the fucking ‘mostly’ part?” Summer returned angrily.
“I’m trying to,” he told her with frustration. “But do you remember, that day you came to my house and told me Awsha was back?”
“What about it?” she growled.
“Do you remember what happened right before I felt that pain as that mental wall that I had locked the future behind just crumbled?”
“What happened? Just tell me already!”
Another sigh, “I think the reason it crumbled was because just meeting her, and hearing her name, it triggered those memories of the future that I thought I had hidden away. That’s when the wall crumbled and I had to leave, Summer.”
“Meeting who? Hearing whose name? Dammit Eliot, speak plainly!”
“Right before it happened was when I met Kirielle, and heard her name. That’s what made the wall crumble. That’s when everything came back to me, Summer.”
“What? She was only ten then,” Summer replied, her own mind trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“The version of her in my head wasn’t,” he whispered with another shaky breath.
“What are you even trying to tell me, Eliot?” she asked loudly, running her hands through her long locks in frustration.
“I’ve already told you too much, Summer. You know that. Just please trust me when I say that we can’t risk you changing what’s happening right now, please,” he repeated desperately.
“What the fuck is happening? You have to tell me that much or I will lose my mind worrying about her!” Summer told him just as desperately, tears running down her cheeks.
Fighting with his sympathy for his oldest friend and his fear of messing up anything that would keep him from saving the woman he loved, he took another deep breath before answering. “I think this was the night that she...” he swallowed again, the inner struggle continuing even as he tried to give her that answer she was begging him for.
“She what, Eliot?” she breathed the words more than spoke them.
Another look back at her tears and he gave her that answer, “The night she was embraced.”
“Em--” Summer shook her head vehemently. “No, no. Lucian would not do that. Not to her,” she denied loudly.
Eliot’s eyes darkened ever so briefly before he forced down his emotions once again, “It wasn’t... him,” he made himself give her one more sliver of information, despite how afraid he was of sharing any more at all. He then quickly added, “It wasn’t anyone that you even know, Summer.”
“Then who?” she pressed. Eliot just lowered his eyes, which only upset her further. “You know what? Fuck your future!” she growled with rage. “I will not let this happen. Not to her!” she promised, almost immediately returning to her casting.
“Look at the time, Summer,” he spoke up to stop her again, “It’s nearly dawn in Los Angeles.” he took another shaky breath. “It’s already happened,” he whispered sadly.
Looking at the nearby clock before glaring back at him once more. “And you just let it?”
“What? Summer...” he spoke her name, wounded. “Everything I’ve seen was what I’ve seen through Claire’s eyes. All I knew was from what Claire knew, after she found out. I could narrow it down to possibly the year, but not the exact moment. I didn’t know this was it. At least not until Sean contacted you today, anyway. You have to believe that, Summer,” he promised her with sadness, but sincerity. Though it did nothing but replenish her tears.
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When Claire and Lucian rose as the sun set, they both moved to Kirielle’s room without hesitation. Inside, she too had just risen from their daily slumber. She was now seated atop her bed, her back against the headboard, her knees pulled to her chest. Still wearing her disheveled stage outfit and smeared makeup from the night before, tiny red rivulets continued to slide down her cheeks. She wasn’t sobbing now though. Instead she was humming the same tune over and over, her beautiful voice shaking with every note.
Lucian’s tears welled up just as easily then, while Claire tried her best to force hers back. “Kirielle, are you feeling any better?” she asked, causing Lucian to only scoff as Claire gave him a scolding look.
“It still won’t stop,” Kirielle whispered, her words seamlessly flowing back into the notes she had been humming before.
“Is it quieter now though?” Claire asked as she cautiously moved to take a seat near the bed. “Is it easier to think now? To remember?” she spoke gently.
“Don’t want to,” Kirielle whispered again, then returning to that haunting tune once more.
“God, Claire, is she always going to be like this now?” Lucian asked, his own voice shaking nearly as much as Kirielle’s.
Claire sighed heavily as she stood again and moved to take his arm, leading him back out of the room, and closing the door softly behind them. “How long did it take you to recover from dying and coming back? I’m going to guess that it was longer than one day, Lucian,” she told him pointedly.
“But I wasn’t like that. I was just... angry,” he settled on.
Claire let out another sound of exhaustion despite having just slept throughout the entire day. “I don’t think this is just from being embraced. And it’s not all just because of the clan she is now. There’s more to it. And that’s the part that is making this so hard for---”
Her words were cut off as the door that led from Lucian’s home to his office opened. Stepping inside was a stunningly beautiful young man with long auburn hair pulled back into a pony tail above a simple white button down shirt, a medical jacket draped over his arm.
“Sorry Lucian,” he began warily, easily noting the expressions on their faces. “I just thought you should know that Reeve didn’t come in today. I’ve been here since just after dawn. No word from him.”
“And now one of my assistants are missing too. Wonderful,” Lucian just shook his head up at the ceiling, “Go ahead home Connor. Put the sign up for emergency patients only tonight.”
Connor just nodded. He took a moment to pull his light blue eyes away from where he and Claire’s eyes met and had lingered on each other a bit longer than either had intended. Though that reaction was understandable for both of them. Claire was a Toreador after all. Her beauty and presence was irresistible to most mortals, and Lucian’s blood ran through Connor’s veins, enhancing all those desires, as vampiric blood, or vitae, tended to do for all those who were bound by it.
“Reeve, your other assistant?” Claire asked after Connor had departed.
Lucian had now slumped down to a seat upon the couch, unable to keep his sad eyes from wandering back to Kirielle’s door every few seconds. “Not really high on my list of priorities tonight, Claire,” he shook his head, running his hands through his dark locks once more.
“When a blood bound servant fails to show up during the day, it’s generally not a good thing,” she said sadly as she took a seat next to him.
Her own words caused her thoughts to drift back to the first servant she had ever made. There was a day that he never showed up to protect her, and no one had seen him once in the three centuries since, as death was likely the only thing that could ever prevent those bound from doing their duty.
“Yeah well, ‘not a good thing’ seems to be the running theme here lately.”
“He was one of the ones helping search for her last night though, wasn’t he?” Claire asked, casting her eyes down.
“I suppose. It’s all a bit of a blur right now, somehow,” he replied with a sad sarcasm.
“He and Kirielle were close, weren’t they?” she pressed.
That did cause him to look back at her, “Well he’s been with me longer than Kirielle’s been alive. He and Summer were the ones who practically raised her, during the day, anyway,” he added.
“And that’s why he knew,” Claire stated sadly, though seemed to be speaking more to herself than Lucian then.
“Knew what?” he prodded.
“How to find her last night,” Claire made herself answer, though with more sadness.
“You think he brought her back here, then just left without bothering to tell me he had found her? And then didn’t even come into the office today? I highly doubt that. Blood bond and all,” he reminded.
“That’s not what happened,” Claire whispered.
Lucian furrowed his brow, “Care to elaborate?”
Claire’s eyes were filled with regret as she did so, “Remember how I said there’s more to it?”
“Still a bit vague, Claire.”
“And did you hear what she said when I asked her if she could remember what happened now?” Claire attempted to lead him to the proper conclusion as gently as possible, futile as that was.
“That she didn’t want to...” Lucian swallowed hard.
Claire took a long moment to gather the emotional strength to make him understand the state Kirielle was now in. After all, she had seen that entire night in the girl’s head, through the din of that never ending music that now tormented Kirielle’s every waking moment.
“Penelope lured her away with some strange song. It worked the way our summoning does. Kirielle couldn’t have resisted it even if she wanted to,” Claire decided to begin at the beginning. Lucian leaned forward then to listen to her words with deepening worry. “Their nickname is ‘the Sirens’ after all, right?
“She played the regretful mother again, insisting that she just wanted to get to know her daughter. Make up for all those lost years. She asked Kirielle to take her to one of her favorite places. Kirielle did.” Claire sighed again, “She did just want to know her mother, despite Penelope’s obvious desire to turn her.
“Once Kirielle led her to that bridge she loved, overlooking the city, Penelope made her move, draining her like it was nothing, just some sort of ‘gift’ she was giving her,” Claire sniffled slightly.
Lucian swallowed another lump in his throat, “So Kirielle didn’t actually ask her to change her after all?”
Claire forced back her sadness once more, “It doesn’t seem like it.” She then took a moment before moving on. “The next thing Kirielle remembers was waking up, tied firmly to the bridge, mad with frenzy.”
“God,” was all Lucian could say then.
“Penelope had left her there like that. I guess after killing her own sire in frenzy, she didn’t want to risk history repeating itself. And... that’s when Reeve found Kirielle. He knew all her favorite places, after all.”