Page 22 of Brave Spirit (Bound Spirit #6)
Nolan
S tanding outside of my grandmother’s commandeered office, I release a pent-up breath.
I promised I would get Callie something she could use to help convince Mildred to allow “James” to be made into my thrall, which means getting my grandmother, Dalia, on my side.
Hopefully, she’ll also help with my parents.
I can only imagine how they’ll feel when I ask to make my friend into, as Felix puts it, my personal Capri-Sun.
“Stop hovering outside the door,” my grandmother bellows from the other side. “I can hear you nervously fretting from my desk.”
Here goes nothing . I open the door, trying to look as confident as possible. “Good afternoon, Grandmother. My apologies for not knocking sooner.”
She looks up from her grand oak desk covered in stacks of paperwork with a hint of amusement in her pale blue eyes. “What is it you want, Grandson?”
“Can’t I want to spend time with you, since you’ll be leaving soon?
” I ask innocently as I approach her desk bathed in sunlight from the large bay windows.
I intentionally keep my gaze focused on this side of the room, ignoring the remaining medical equipment that reminds me too much of how close I was to a slow, withering death.
“Not soon enough for your father’s liking,” she replies with a twist of her thin lips. “And you wouldn’t be hovering outside my door unless you wanted something. Quit trying to charm me and get to the point.”
With a deep sigh, I sit down in one of the chairs across her desk, leaning forward to prop my elbows on my bent knees.
“I need your help with something.” My heart begins to thump loudly in my ears.
In the abstract, this didn’t seem like a big deal.
It’s the easiest solution to protect Felix’s memories.
Feeding from people, though, especially my friends, has filled me with shame for years, and now I’m going to actively ask for it as a permanent fixture in my life.
“And that is?” She raises a single white brow, her sharp features shifting toward strained patience.
My gaze drifts toward the bookcases that line the walls, the only remaining signs of the room’s original purpose. For some reason, I can’t look at her and say what I need at the same time. “I’m… struggling with bag blood. Not that I can’t keep it down, it’s just…”
“Disgusting,” my grandmother supplies, distaste coloring her voice.
I nod, feeling guilty to admit the truth. This is supposed to be about helping Felix, but not having to survive completely on bagged blood has a lot of appeal.
She folds her hands on her desk, and genuine sympathy crosses her features. “Grandson, there’s no shame in wanting to feed on fresh blood. It’s what our kind is meant to do. Bagged blood only makes us appear more palatable for those who want to deny what we are.”
“Why is that?” I ask, knowing but also wanting to hear it. I need the validation that I’m not built wrong.
“We are predators,” she answers simply, unaffected and unapologetic.
“We are a civilized society that has built etiquette around how we feed. However, that doesn’t negate the fact that we are an apex predator, and humans are what we require to survive.
” Standing up from her swivel chair, she circles to the front of the desk and leans against the corner.
“Living outside of your kind has left you ashamed over what you are, and I regret that. It doesn’t mean you must continue this way. ”
How matter of fact she is untangles some of the shame that’s tied up in all the things I did to survive. I further consider the twins’ offer to tutor me on vampire society. Knowing more about where I come from and how our society incorporates what we need and what we are sounds… healing.
My grandmother taps her slender fingers against the edge of the desk, disrupting my inner musings. “I could send one of the family thralls to live with you, or you’re welcome to return with me to Prima for a time, meet the rest of your family, and pick out a thrall who best suits you.”
“About that…” I run a hand through my hair, trying to push down the nerves crawling up from my belly.
“I kind of already picked someone to be my thrall—my human friend, James.” My words pick up speed as I quickly try to give all the reasons why he would be better than the more obvious solution my grandmother provided.
“He already lives in town and is a regular at my house. There’d be no reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary going on.
Considering we have human servants who I really like and don’t want their memories wiped, keeping up appearances is very important.
Also, he’s eighteen, if that matters. I don’t really know the rules for choosing thralls. ”
“Breathe, Grandson,” she encourages with a micro smile. “I’m not your parents. I agree you should have a thrall. I’ve believed that from the beginning. I’m also aware of how you view the individuals you feed from. It makes sense that you want it to be a human close to you.”
I gulp for air and nod woodenly, relieved that she’s on my side and doesn’t see anything odd about wanting to choose James over one of the family thralls.
“As for your James’s age, yes, it’s beneficial he’s eighteen.
Though it’s quite common to have multiple generations of thralls from a single family—thralls raising their children and grandchildren and so forth within vampire society—we do wait until they are considered adults before making it official,” she supplies, and then she aims her shrewd gaze at me.
“As I said, your request is reasonable. What do you need from me?”
“Well, I could use help convincing Mom and Dad,” I begin, knowing they are going to be an interesting challenge, and I don’t really want to take on a thrall without their approval.
“Easy.” She gets up and returns to her chair, reaching for one of the documents on her desk.
“I’ll insist it’s medically necessary for your continued care.
Your quality of life is important for keeping you healthy.
If you dread consuming the blood you need to survive, then you’ll be less likely to take in the proper amount. ”
Leaning back in the high-backed chair, I let some of the nervous energy drain out of me. “That should work on Mom and Dad, but they aren’t the only ones we need to convince. The coven will have to approve too, which means convincing Mildred.”
“And for your health isn’t enough?” my grandmother challenges, her posture rigid and her eyes narrowed at the hint of her professional authority being questioned.
“It’s not that.” I lift my hands up in a placating manner. “It’s just Mom and Dad have survived fine on bagged blood for years, and it isn’t that I can’t do the same. Like you said, it’s harder for non-vampires to understand why the difference matters.”
She picks up the pen she was using before I interrupted and taps the end against the document before her.
“Mildred is very protective of her granddaughter’s blood, so I imagine she’ll appreciate an alternative once it’s made clear that you need fresh blood.
” My grandmother stares at me like she’s weighing options in her head.
“You’re very settled on this James to be your thrall? ”
“Yes, Grandmother.” My tone is surprisingly more confident than I actually feel, but since this is what Felix wants, I’m going to make it happen.
“Alright.” She reaches into one of the desk drawers and pulls out official looking stationery.
“I’ve waited to send my report to the queen regarding all that’s happened.
I can suggest, as proper recompense for all you’ve suffered, the coven must allow you to take a thrall of your choosing.
Considering what led to your condition, this seems appropriate. ”
Shock courses through my body like a jolt of electricity. “The queen? That seems excessive. I don’t want to bother her with…”
“I have to make the report,” she interrupts in her no-nonsense way.
“It’s better I provide recommendations that the coven can manage than have her decide the best course of action solely, especially since Mildred has hinted she’d rather settle this without the council’s involvement.
” She points her pen at me. “This is all very unorthodox, so the clearer I can make it, the easier it will be for the witches.”
Swallowing heavily, I nod. Well, this is what Callie wanted.
I doubt Mildred will argue with “by order of the vampire queen.” After glancing at the abandoned laptop sitting on the far corner of her desk, I frown over at the stationary.
“You’re going to hand write your report?
Wouldn’t it be faster to email it to her? ”
This earns one of her rare laughs. “Grandson, when trying to persuade a royal who grew up during the time of the printing press, personal touches matter.” She waves her hand in a dismissive manner. “Now go. It will take time before getting an official ruling, so it is best I start now.”
“And Mom and Dad?” I ask, my voice hesitant because it feels like I’m asking too much, but it’s so much easier with her than trying to convince them on my own.
“Yes, yes,” she mutters, continuing her dismissive wave. “I’ll talk to them after. Now, run off and do your homework or see your friends, whatever it is you’d be doing instead of pestering me.”
A huge grin takes over my face, and I speed around the desk to give her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re not as scary as everyone thinks you are.”
My grandmother makes an annoyed hum, but a corner of her mouth turns upward. “Don’t tell anyone.”