Part 1 (1/2)
Anna Strong.
Legacy.
by Jeanne C. Stein.
To my first writing partner and good friend, Miyoko Hensley, slaying her own demons with style and grace
To family, those related by blood and those related by the heart
To the writing community, critiquers, publishers, booksellers
And to readers, those who attend conference panels and those who write to say they love my books and those who simply buy the books and remain anonymous-
Anna and I thank you.
I'VE BEEN A VAMPIRE FOR SIX MONTHS.
During that time I've gotten used to drinking human blood, experienced the exquisite pleasure of the blood drive, the union of blood and s.e.x.
That's the good part.
In that same six months, my home was burned to the ground and my best friend and business partner kidnapped and almost killed by a vampire who said that he would show me the way. Avery said that he loved me.
He lied.
I learned I had a thirteen-year-old niece from the woman who pimped her out to men for money-her mother. Then found out that she had lied.
About everything.
Trish is not my niece, yet I perpetuated the lie so my parents could become the kid's guardian. A gift to them when I can be their child no longer.
I lost my human lover, Max, because he learned what I am in the worst possible way-he saw me in action. Saw me turn and kill as a vampire.
Recently, I separated myself from my vampire mentor and the Watchers, an organization that teaches supernaturals how to survive in today's world. Part of my job was to terminate rogue vamps. It's not that I didn't like the work. I liked it too well.
I'm determined to live as human. Sometimes it's h.e.l.l.
Sometimes, like today, it seems easy.
CHAPTER 1.
WHEN I WAS HUMAN, I HATED THE HOLIDAYS. Hated the inescapable dirge of mindless Christmas songs. Hated being force-fed hope and joy. Hated the contrived joviality. To me, Christmas was a stark reminder that in a few days, my brother would be dead yet another year, killed in a senseless accident a few days after ”the hap-happiest time of the year.”
Yet here I am this mid-December afternoon fourteen years later, a big dumb grin on my face, enduring a crush of smelly humanity for the chance to help my niece pick out a gift for my mother.
My niece.
I can say that now without the mental quotation marks around ”niece.”
In a couple of months, Trish has become as much a member of my family as I am. Maybe more so since she's human and I'm not.
I'm a vampire.
Another thing I have come to be able to admit (only to myself, naturally) without an internal shudder of disgust or shame.
I'm a vampire.
I accept it, like being blond or having green eyes. I wasn't born a vampire. I was made one. I've adapted to the reality of the situation, and truth be told, can forget about it for, oh, minutes at a time.
”Aunt Anna?”
I love the sound of that. I can't help myself. I respond by giving the beautiful, healthy thirteen-year-old girl at my side a hug.
She pulls away, but she's grinning. ”What was that for?”
”No reason. Did you decide?”
We're in Horton Plaza, at Tiffany's, a selection of earrings spread on a velvet mat in front of us. I am standing to the left of Trish, out of mirror range, since casting no reflection is one of the drawbacks of being a vampire who lives among mortals. I can also watch Trish un.o.bserved and marvel at how far she's come in the last three months.
When I first met her, Trish Delaney was a runaway. Her mother, Carolyn, showed up at my parents' house one night and announced that Trish was their grandchild. Carolyn, whom we hadn't seen since my brother died, concocted an elaborate story about not finding out she was pregnant until after my brother's death and being too scared to approach my parents for fear they would react the same way hers had-demand she have an abortion. She came to us then because she was afraid Trish was in real trouble-involved in drugs and murder-and had nowhere else to turn. She also came because she knew what I did for a living.
I'm a bounty hunter by trade and expert at finding people.
And we bought it.
Turns out, most of the story was a lie. Carolyn was the one who turned Trish over to her abusers, for money. She's dead now, and the dirtbag directly responsible for what happened to Trish is dead, too. Three others are awaiting trial. We're hoping they'll plead out so Trish won't have to relive the horror. Trish understands that they may not.
But for now, here she is-a long-legged thirteen-year-old teetering on the verge of womanhood who can smile and laugh and feel secure in the knowledge she has finally found a family that she does not have to fear. If the worst happens and she has to testify at a trial, she knows we'll be right there with her. In the meantime, we're going to enjoy the holidays.
As a family.
Trish has an earring in each hand. ”It's between these two. Which do you like better?”
One is a knot of gold, the size of a dime. The other, a delicate filigree hoop.
”The hoops. Mom likes hoops.”
Trish holds the chosen one up to her own ear and checks the mirror. ”I like these, too.” She hands the earrings over to the salesperson. ”We'll take these, please.”