Page 8 of Worse Fates

“Oh yeah, that’ll cheer him up,” Ramy snorts. “Rurik the devastated, Lucero the brooding, and Ramy the perfect—”

“Perfect?” I chuckle.

“—into the home of our Maker. Who’ll ridicule until Rurik will lash out and you’ll get in between them. Then I’ll end up having to smooth everyone's little egos.”

“I’ve never heard any complaint about myego.”

My grin grows when Ramy scoffs.

“Besides, isn’t that all family gatherings?”

Ramy is quiet for a long time. In the window I see his reflection open its mouth, sigh, then finally say, “It hurts to see him, Luc.” Without his jokes, Ramy is a man who wished for family and found us. And then we, like most families, disappointed him.

“You should travel, Ramy. You wanted to see the world when you were turned. A big adventure.”

“Who will stop Rurik from killing himself?” he asks, not unkindly, but to cut to the bone. “And take you out of your own head, because you’re…”

“Say it.”

I wait for him to speak the words aloud, the ones we’ve all been thinking but too scared to voice.

“You are losing yourself to apathy, like Vidar.”

I’ve seen Ramy’s fear grow for me in these last few years. Fear of losing another to the nothingness of apathy, because if I lose myself, then Rurik won’t be far behind. Then who will Ramy have?

Not Vidar.

Not Sen, the eldest of our dysfunctional family, and who left before Vidar made Ramy.

“There,” I smirk. “Don’t we both feel better now the words are out?”

“Mostly, I feel like a jerk,” Ramy admits, and softens my sharp edges.

Sometimes, I wonder if I should play Maker and turn a human into a vampire. A companion for Ramy. But the very idea of it twists my guts; it would be a betrayal of the mates I was too cowardly to offer immorality.

My phone rings and I pull it form my pocket.

“It’s Vidar,” I say.

Ramy is next to me within a second using his vampiric speed.

“Vidar?” Ramy frowns. “Has he ever called? I didn’t even know he knew how to use the phone I gave him.”

I shrug before answering. “Maker?”

“You sound surprised to hear from me, offspring.” I flinch, his voice shredded.

Recovering quickly, I answer, “Well, not hearing from anyone in two years will do that.”

“We’re immortal,” he sneers. “What's two years between us? Besides, I thought I should update you.”

Vidar rots away within the bowels of a mansion we let fall into ruin, so I can’t even imagine what his ‘update’ would be. “On what?”

My Maker moves, and I hear the cracking of his bones, like dry twigs underfoot. “A human boy was living in the house for a few days.”

Closing my eyes, I let the frustration turn my voice into a growl. “And you allowed this?”

“Why would I care?” He laughs, and the sound harsh and bitter