Chapter V: Second warning

The Lady Fyrehawk
Copyright © Stephanie Pui-Mun Law 1999.
Used with permission.

Angelan was facing Lucy. The girl had an imploring look.
"So you're in danger and you need my help," said Angelan, cheeky.
"Your help, no," rectified Lucy. "But help, yes."
"And you love him?"
"He's my life," she said simply.
"Well, he's my friend, almost my brother, and for that, you're sacred to me. Order, and I will obey. I do what he would do if he were here, instead of me: I lay my heart at your feet."
"How dare you?" exclaimed Lucy, suffocated. "You pretend he's like your brother and you try to steal his love!"
"I don't understand."
"Your heart! At my feet! Take it back, I don't want it! I already gave my heart, I can't accept another one."
"I'm afraid you misunderstood," said coldly Angelan. "When I said that I lay my heart at your feet, I didn't mean this ridiculous organ which beats in - almost - everybody's chest, it wouldn't be of any help, would it? I meant my sword, my arms, my head, in one word, my courage!"
"I'm sorry," apologised Lucy immediately.
"My friend has one passion: your eyes. It's much to his credit. My own passion is entirely different: her name is the Plug-nosed one, the Reaper!"
"You can't say that! It's terrible!"
"My blade drank blood and will still drink blood. Every fight is mine and if a beautiful face like yours replaces sometimes the one of my old friend, I owe it to her gentleness."
"But your passion is..."
"The Death. Yes, I know. She has my whole heart and she holds it in her bony hands so cold. Heart of stone, my dear."
Angelan remained silent a moment after that sentence and then exclaimed:
"Oh no, no and no! It's atrocious! I can't let it this way. What do you think, Lucy?"
"The beginning is quite nice, but then, you speak too much of death and blood. Why don't you continue with those light-hearted gallantries?"
"I don't know how to speak of love. I only know how to lie down like a dog and die at my master's feet, looking up at him with trusting eyes."
"You're not dying, Angelan, first point," said firmly Lucy. "Second point, you're not a dog, far from it in fact. Third and final point, you speak very well of love."
A silence fell between them and Lucy continued hastily before this silence became too heavy:
"I must go. I heard Beth-Lynn say to Sane she would come to see you this evening. I'm already late."
"Why are you so anxious to leave before she arrives?" asked softly Angelan as Lucy opened the door.
"She doesn't like to see us together, Angelan, and it's quite understandable. This story between you and her is already painful enough like that without adding any pain from my own. I'll come back tomorrow."
"Lucy, don't leave. Please. I need you."
"You need blood?" asked Lucy, disconcerted.
"We can begin with that..." agreed Angelan so lowly she almost didn't hear.
She came to him and offered him both her wrists and her throat. He wrapped gently his arms around her and bent down over her throat. She felt the difference immediately: if, the first times, she had had to fancy more or less to imagine the man behind the strigoï, now she had to concentrate to find the strigoï - and his fangs. His bite was more like a kiss and it was as she had dreamed so often - except that the dream was now the reality. She uttered a small moan.
"Am I hurting you?" he breathed softly in her neck.
"No, you're not... It's just... it felt so strange!"
He wrapped his arms more tightly around her.
"I know," he whispered, his lips - and fangs - stroking Lucy's skin.
Guilt assailed her almost at once. She knew she was wrong, that she shouldn't let him do, encourage him, but she felt so weak. She knew when he finished to drink blood, for he had a way to sigh each time which was unmistakable. Only then, she had the impression to hear Venetia's voice:
"I tried all my life to protect you from strigoïs, perhaps I shouldn't have, but that's what I did."
She stepped back and broke free. Angelan raised the head and looked up at her with a hurt look in the eyes.
"I can't do that, Angelan!" she said, almost breathless. "Listen, I couldn't stand the accusation in Beth-Lynn's gaze, Venetia's reprobation nor my own guilt. It's beyond me! I can't, I don't want to be between Beth-Lynn and you."
"Lucy, use your eyes: is there still something between Beth-Lynn and me?"
"Oh yes, I see it each time she sees us together, I see her eyes blazing with jealously. Is that what you're trying? Are you using me so that Beth-Lynn will be jealous and will come back to you? I wouldn't have thought you could do that someday, not to me!"
And, tears menacing to invade her eyes, she fled through the door she had left open, not listening to Angelan's calls urging to stay, to explain what she meant. Angelan sat, feeling as dejected as the day Beth-Lynn had left him, except that this day, Lucy had been there and had allowed him to find some comfort by drinking her blood. Now he was alone. He suddenly stood up, decided.
"I must go to see Viny. She will know what to do. And even if she kills me because I hurt Lucy, death will be the most precious gift."
Then he remembered Venetia wasn't available: she had her own pains and she needed three days for Meran. Angelan thought a moment.
"I will wait," he decided. "I will wait until Venetia is available; I will have enough time to think about all that. Till then I will hide. It'll be better for everyone like this."
And so Angelan disappeared. During three days, Lucy, Beth-Lynn and Sane were unable to find either Venetia or Angelan and they began to worry quite seriously. Beth-Lynn, out of herself, even accused Angelan and Venetia of having fled together. Lucy only threw her a disgusted look and Sane said:
"You know better."
The third dhampyr was now well integrated in Gethsen and she was a good friend of both Beth-Lynn and Venetia, sharing some tastes with both of them. Unlike Venetia, she never disappeared for a more or less long time without warning, so Beth-Lynn spent a lot of time with her. But Sane liked to go hunting with Venetia, taciturn, enjoying the night and the silence. Venetia and Sane were both old lonesome wolves, bearing company from time to time, but preferring the loneliness.

During three days Venetia kept watch over Meran's body, as she had spent three days kneeling before Duncan's grave. The third night the boy moved and opened his eyes.
"Viny?" he called softly.
"I'm here, Meran. How do you feel?"
"I thought I was dead."
"You're dead," replied Venetia, her heart sinking.
"Are you dead too?" asked Meran, feeling panic rising in him.
"No, dear one."
"I don't understand. How can I see you, talk to you if you're not dead? What happened? Everything is so strange here! How did I come here? I remember the temple, the man bending down over me, with huge fangs! What did happen, Viny?"
"The man with huge fangs was a strigoï, Meran. You died in the temple and I carried you here, waiting for your awakening."
"Strigoïs don't exist, Viny," said firmly Meran.
"Sure, dear one, that's why one of them killed you," she replied without batting an eyelid. "And that's why I spend all my nights hunting them down," she added mentally.
"Viny, why are you glowing? You didn't glow before!"
"Which colour am I glowing?"
"Sort of red and white. Not pink; red and white. More white than red though."
"One week ago, for me, you were glowing white. Now you're glowing red. A pale red, but red anyway."
"What does it mean?"
"It means you're a strigoï now, Meran dear. The halo around people tells you who they are: white is for humans, red is for strigoïs."
"Why are you white and red, then? Aren't you human?"
"Not entirely. I'm born from a strigoï and a human. I'm one of those one calls dhampyrs. Like the strigoïs, we dhampyrs have the Sight. Are you hungry?"
"A little bit," admitted Meran. "I would like... in fact, I don't know what I would like. All the meals I know don't tempt me."
"I know what you need. Sit on the tomb."
"You know?" wondered Meran as Venetia was coming toward him. "How can you know?"
"I'm half a strigoï," Venetia reminded him. "Now, Meran, please be careful. I know what your Hunger is, but if you don't control yourself, you can harm me or even kill me."
"What must I do?"
"I think the strigoï in you will know."
She offered him her throat. He looked at her without understanding, then a glow lightened his eyes. Venetia closed her eyes when the sharp fangs pierced her skin. She hated to give her blood to a strigoï. Suddenly she felt that the fangs in her throat were more 'mature', if one could say that of fangs, that is, it was no more a little boy who was holding her, but an adolescent, or even a man. She jerked back, her right hand coming on the stake in the small of her back.
"Viny?" asked Meran, half hurt, half complaining.
Even his voice was different: it was deep, rich, indubitably masculine, not at all the voice of a young boy, and Venetia found herself looking in the eyes of a man who looked so painfully like Duncan.
"What happened, Meran?" pleaded Venetia. "One minute ago, you were twelve years old and now..."
"I don't know... I drank some of your blood and then, you stepped back."
Venetia looked around her. She looked like a hunted deer. Meran stood up and took her in his arms, as to protect her from those mysterious phenomena. She stiffened at once: it was really a man who was holding her, a man full of tenderness, care... and passion, she could tell it by the way he was holding her. A veil fell from her eyes and she saw Meran's affection as it really was: a deep love that even his young age couldn't stop and which he had tried to hide as long as he had been able. Venetia felt trapped. His arms around her felt strong and sure, like those of a grown man knowing what he wanted: her love.
He was almost rocking her in his arms like a child and she knew she couldn't break free.
"Meran..." she begged softly.
"Everything's alright, Viny," Meran soothed her.
"No, you're wrong, Meran! Nothing is alright!" she retorted, finding the strength to pull him away. "The only one I ever loved was Duncan, not you!"
"But you will learn to love me," pleaded Meran. "I will always be with you, protecting you..."
"How can you try to steal from your brother when he still hasn't found the peace in death? How dare you try to steal my love from him?"
"But I love you so, Viny... I've always loved you and will always do!"
"Meran, please! Don't you think I have already enough problems without adding a strigoï in love with me?"
"When I wasn't a strigoï, you saw me only as a little boy."
"That's what you were, Meran. I don't understand how you can be a grown man now."
The conversation ended here, as Angelan entered the crypt.

Seeing his defeated look and his shoulders falling heavily, Venetia understood at once there was a problem. But she hadn't the time to ask a question: Angelan blinked when seeing Meran beside her.
"You didn't kill him?" he said, surprised.
Then he saw the blood on Venetia's neck and his eyes widened.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know," shrugged Venetia. "First of all, Meran is almost like you, gentle, not wanting to drink blood at all, as he was before. Then, when he drank my blood, he suddenly grew up. Do you understand something?"
Angelan shook the head. Then he remembered something: Venetia's hand, covered by Herrikhan's glove, stroking Meran's hair.
"Your glove, Viny! Herrikhan's glove! I think it's the answer."
"Could it have changed my blood composition too?" asked Venetia, suspicious.
"Probably, yes."
"Great!" said Venetia, far from sounding enthusiastic. "Now, what's your problem?"
"I think I'll leave Gethsen for a while."
"What for?"
"Lucy... Viny, I'm afraid I'm falling in love with her. If you want to kill me for that, you can do it, I won't fight."
"As if I didn't know better," said Venetia with disdain. "What's the problem with that?"
"Have you already heard of a strigoï in love with a dhampyr? Funny, isn't it?"
Venetia glanced quickly at Meran and replied:
"Pitiful, you mean. Yes, I've already heard of it. But Lucy isn't really a dhampyr, I didn't bring her up for that, so what's the problem? Is it because of Beth-Lynn?"
"Partly, but it doesn't really matter very much, since she doesn't want to see me anymore. No, the problem is Lucy. She doesn't love me."
"Oh yes, she does. Except that she doesn't want to be a substitute for love."
"What do you mean?"
"First, she doesn't want to be between Beth-Lynn and you. So as long as she'll think there's something between you, she'll feel like a burden. Then she probably thinks you act like you do with her by gratitude and, trust me, Lucy hates nothing more than gratitude. Now it's up to you."
"She thinks I'm using her."
"Jealousy, huh? The oldest way to make unfaithful ones come back. Angelan, I know my sister and it pains me to tell you that but she loves you. Truly. More than Beth-Lynn has ever loved you. So if you return her love, do something. Now, let's go. Three whole days and nights in this crypt are more than enough for me."
Meran and Angelan followed her, strangely quiet. Venetia sighed, rolled the eyes and took the direction of her own house. Angelan refused to go further than the cemetery. Meran stared at all the tombs and said softly:
"I guess I must learn to live here?"
"You'll live where you want, dear... laddie," corrected Venetia immediately.
It was hard for her to stop using the gentle words she had had for Meran, but now, he had declared his love to her and a word could break the fragile balance.
"As long as you don't drink blood from people who don't offer it to you," she added after a moment. "Because if you do, I'll have to kill you. I'm here for that and that's what they expect me to do."
"In this case, I think the crypt was a nice place. I'll make it my home."
"As you wish."
Meran left them and went back to the crypt without another word.
"Viny, you're not here for killing strigoïs. You can go elsewhere whenever you want."
"You know, Angelan, when I left Vicsri, I was looking from the perfect place, free of strigoïs, so Lucy would be safe, a place where we could be happy. I left lots of towns, running after this dream, and finally I came here and I understood: you don't find the place where to be happy, you have to build it, with every minute passing by, you have to fight for it. That's what I'm doing: I'm trying to make Gethsen my home, my place to be happy and no strigoï will ever force me to leave this home of mine: my friends and the warmth of their smile, the happiness of Lucy and the feeling I'm where I should be, at last."
"There's no better definition for home," said Angelan, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
"And if I must fight to preserve my home, if I must kill strigoïs and be the worse dhampyr in the world, so be it! I'll be a murderer."
"Is it a murder to kill someone already dead?"
"Sure, but if someone had killed my father twenty years ago, I wouldn't be here."
"That would have been a great loss."
"Nobody would have known it, you mean. Listen, Angelan, I want you to solve quickly this problem with Lucy. I hate hearing people say 'I love her, but she doesn't love me', 'I will die if I can't have her love' and other stupidities, because it makes me sick, but I'd like to see you in each other's arms, eyes in eyes, not even seeing or hearing the outside world. I want to see Lucy happy, Angelan, and if it means she needs you for that, so be it! So please, do something, and quickly! I have enough of tears and I think it's time for a smile to blossom again on Lucy's lips. But, for pity's sake, no endless speech! Try something more convincing than half an hour of spluttering," she concluded with a smile.
"If smile comes back on your lips, then hope is allowed," retorted gently Angelan.
"The dhampyr who said that strigoïs weren't poets was wrong: he never met you."
"I'm not a poet; I'm a dead rhymester who forgets his rhymes when eyes too bright are staring at him."
"A dead soul of a dead poet?" suggested Venetia, a mocking sparkle in the eyes.
"Sure, lassie, sure," said Angelan.
Venetia burst out laughing when hearing the feminine version of one of her favourite expressions. Angelan had a brief smile and became serious again.
"What's that story with Meran?"
"It's a warning from the Triad. That is, from what's left of the Triad."
"Damian," said slowly Angelan.
"Damian," agreed Venetia. "The most clever - and dangerous - of the three; he is even more clever than both those two strigoïs who served him as brothers."
"Be careful. Damian is not as greedy as Vivian was."
"I know."
"Why are you so sure it's only a warning?"
"I was in their power. They knocked me senseless and I almost didn't hear them come! They could have killed me! No, it's a warning and a new trick from Damian. He's sure to beat me and he's playing with me like a cat with a mouse. He's playing with me and he knows I hate this!"
"Calm down, Viny, I'm not Damian!"
"Sure you're not or you would already be dead. So long, Angelan!"
She left him after a smile and a light movement of the hand.

Lucy was still up when Venetia arrived at home.
"We have a guest," she announced at once.
"Oh? Where is he?"
"She is sleeping. She was tired."
And proud of herself, Lucy showed to her sister a little girl asleep in her own bed. Venetia remained silent and then, she frowned slightly.
"I think it's time for you to learn how to use your Sight," she muttered.
"What for?"
"Because this moving little girl, so gently asleep, is a dhampyr, dear Luce."
"That's what I thought at first, but then, she glowed white. Sometimes, Beth-Lynn glows white and red, when she's angry."
"Perhaps, Luce, but a dhampyr can change the colour of his glow. Believe me, this innocent little girl is a dhampyr. What's her name?"
"Ileni."
"That's a nice name," appreciated Venetia. "Now, go to bed, Lucy. It's late, you should be sleeping. Take my bed, I'll use an armchair. A bed would be too comfortable for me after all the days spent under the stars."
"Sane found the counter spell. She'll come here tomorrow to speak of it with you."
"Great! At least, Duncan will rest in peace..."
"Assured of your love," ended Lucy, closing softly the door on her.
"Assured of my love," repeated Venetia. "Sure, sure. Then why am I so troubled when Meran, now adult, is near me and is staring at me with his eyes burning with fever and love, those eyes which are so much like Duncan's? What did I do with Herrikhan's glove? Is that the only way to give strigoïs the semblance of a soul? Love? Ah!" she exclaimed suddenly with anger. "Love, love! I spend my time hearing that word! Love here, love there, will I ever stop to hear that word? I hate that, I don't want to hear it again!"
She threw herself in an armchair, threw her legs across the armrest and closed the eyes. She fell asleep thirty seconds after with all the innocence of the youth.
The following day Sane didn't come. Venetia left a message at Beth-Lynn's where Sane lived most of the time and went into town with Lucy and Ileni.
"Which colour do you see him glow?" she asked endlessly to Lucy for each person they met.
"White. God, Viny, you already asked me a hundred times at least!"
"Thirty-two exactly," correctly Venetia coldly. "But you were wrong on the colour twenty-nine times."
"I what? Viny, they are all humans! You can't meet any strigoïs during the day!"
"It doesn't matter, Luce. Try to concentrate. Which colour for..."
She stopped dead, staring at the man she was discreetly pointing out to Lucy. The man smiled when seeing her gaze fixed on him and even blinked at her when walking near her. Venetia followed him from the gaze.
"White, white, white!" cried Lucy exasperated.
Venetia reported her gaze on her sister.
"Wrong again," she said absent-mindedly. "Not white at all."
"Then which colour was he glowing? Viny!"
"Mm? Oh... that's a good question indeed."
She noticed vaguely that Ileni was listening with all her attention, but she remained perturbed by this strange man.
"Viny? Are you still here or had this man who doesn't glow white stolen your heart?"
"My heart, certainly not. My attention, without any doubt. Alright, let's do it again. Forget all about the identification. Let's see the theory."
Lucy sighed.
"Lucy, I know I'm boring you, but if you don't know that, you'll finish in a grave. And that's not really what I want!"
"I'm sorry, Viny," apologised Lucy immediately. "The words..."
"It's alright," cut Venetia. "For the strigoïs, the glow is generally..."
"Red."
"Thank you, Ileni. Red indeed. Most of them glow a strong red. Pale red is reserved to strigoïs like Angelan with what looks like a soul."
"Pale is a big word to define Angelan's red," said Lucy. "Pastel would be better and even that is too strong."
"That's exactly what I said," replied Venetia dryly. "The worse strigoïs generally glow a dark red. You must be very careful if you see a strigoï glowing a dark red. A bright red is less dangerous: it's the indication of a strigoï who found a second soul and, normally, he needs only rarely blood gifts. That's all for the strigoïs, except that sometimes, the red can be replaced by a purple, quite nice to see, but not very reassuring. Be careful with the purple ones too."
"Why are they dangerous?"
Venetia did as if she hadn't heard.
"The humans now. The most frequently encountered colour - or lack of - is the white. Of course, no human is of a perfect white. Some are almost grey; others, generally in relation with strigoïs, are white and red, sometimes even pink. Those humans are most of the time those who have the greatest opportunities to become the mother - or father - of a dhampyr, even of several dhampyrs. People like Beth-Lynn can glow red only when they are angry or such a feeling. Then, finally, the dhampyrs. They are almost the most difficult of all. A dhampyr who hates strigoïs will be white with a bit of red, quite similar to an angry human or a human with affinities with strigoïs. One hating humans will rather be red with a bit of white, a glow entirely different from the one of gentle strigoïs. The dhampyr hating both races will glow either blue - pale, bright or dark - or black. But this kind is quite rare. And the dhampyr hating none of them - like you, Lucy - will glow gold."
"Gold! I glow gold?"
"Why, of course! Which colour did you think you were?"
"I don't know. White, I guess."
"And which colour was the stranger?" asked suddenly the clear voice of Ileni.
Venetia looked at the little girl.
"I would like to know...," she said, troubled. "It was a sort of light, a glow so luminous it was impossible to distinguish the colour. I never heard of such a thing..."
At the end of the day, the three girls returned home. After the dinner, Venetia went into the main room, chose an armchair and fell into it with a sigh of satisfaction. Ileni imitated her. As Lucy entered, with a hot teapot and three cups, Venetia looked up at her from her armchair.
"I think you should go to see Angelan tonight."
Surprised, Lucy almost poured the tea on the table instead of in the cups, but she set the teapot upright on time.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You ought to see Angelan," repeated Venetia obligingly.
To give an impression of composure, Lucy poured the tea in the cups, but Venetia, who knew her, saw her hand tremble.
"Put this teapot on the table, Luce," she said firmly. "You're trembling so much you'll spill all the tea on the floor."
"I can't go," Lucy whispered.
"Oh yes, you can. He needs you, perhaps more than when Beth-Lynn was hurting him."
"You don't know what you're asking me."
"I know perfectly. I already told you that you can't hope to hide me something about you or strigoïs, remember?"
"You can go instead of me!" exclaimed Lucy with despair.
"No, I can't. Listen to me, Luce. You're thinking I'm throwing you into his arms. Perhaps that's what I'm doing indeed, but I don't care. Beth-Lynn hurt him deeply and you were there to help him. Now you are hurting him; if I go to help him, who will do it when I will hurt him at my turn, because I won't have time for him? Ileni? Angelan is my friend, Luce, whatever you may think of me, and I won't let him suffer like that when my sister can heal him. He really needs you, Luce. Is what I'm asking you so terrible? I thought it was what you wanted!"
"Yes... That's what I want. But Beth-Lynn..."
"Open the eyes, Luce dear! Go to Angelan, Luce. During this time, Ileni and I will have a nice chat. And if Angelan still needs help after your visit, then you'll have the right to call me, but only as a last resort! Go now."
Lucy sent a last helpless look with pleading eyes, but Venetia remained inflexible. The door closed on Lucy and her sister said to Ileni, with a smile:
"So! It would be a good idea that you speak a bit about you, wouldn't it? So we could learn to know each other a bit more. What do you think?"
"I agree," replied Ileni. "But I'm afraid it's not a very pleasant story."
"Too bad," grinned Venetia. "I'm half-sick of sad stories. But I'm listening nonetheless; I'm quite used to not very pleasant stories. How did you come here?"
Ileni suddenly looked like a very young little girl, even younger than she really was, and she raised toward Venetia her eyes full of tears.
"They took my mummy!" she sobbed. "They said... they said she had killed my sisters and that they were doing that for my own good! And they took my mum and they killed her! But my mum, she wasn't like they said she was. She loved me and she always wanted what I wanted. When I was crying, she sang lullabies to me and rocked me in her arms. And she played with me, laughed with me and sometimes even cried with me. Do you think like them? Do you think she had killed my sisters and that she wanted to kill me too?"
"No, dearie, certainly not. No mother can wish to kill her own children. What happened next?"
"They said they will come later, to take me and give me to a loving - normal - family where I would be very happy. But I didn't want. My daddy came that very night and took me away with him. We did all the way to Gethsen together and then he left me at your door, where Lucy found me... What did I say, Venetia?" she added, anxious.
Venetia started.
"Nothing, dearie.. It's just it's a bit like our own story, to Lucy and me..."
"Your daddy took you to Gethsen?"
"No, I played the role of our father for Lucy. You see, I don't know my father."
In a few words, she summarised her life and Lucy's, without emotions, as if she didn't care a bit.
"Oh!" sighed Ileni. "I'd like to have a sister like you, so tender, so protective!"
"You have such a sister, Ileni," smiled Venetia. "Since you're living here, with us, you're our little sister, to Lucy and me, so I'm your sister."
Ileni cried with joy and ran into Venetia's arms who held her close against her. On her slim willing face a sad expression passed quickly: she remembered when she had held Meran, about the same age as Ileni - before his 'transformation'.
"You'll speak to me of your mother, won't you?" she asked Ileni. "My mother didn't love me. She loved Lucy, but everybody always adore Lucy."
"Oh!" whimpered gently Ileni, feeling sorry. "Your mummy didn't love you and you never knew your daddy! How did you find some tenderness?"
"I had - and still have - Lucy. She has been my only family during all those years."
"If you want, my mummy will be yours too, so we will really be sisters," proposed Ileni.
"Thank you, dearie," smiled Venetia.
When Lucy came back, late in the night - or early in the morning - she found Venetia still in her armchair, her cheek on Ileni's soft hair, and the little girl was sleeping soundly in her arms.
"Hello, Luce. Had a good night?"
"One can say that. Angelan and I had a little explanation and all is for the better now between us. But..."
"But he still thinks of her," completed Venetia.
"Of course! And..."
"And you feel guilty toward Beth-Lynn."
"Check again!" agreed Lucy without brightening up. "But..." she added before laughing with a helpless sheepish look. "He's so nice! He's so clumsy, so moving..."
"Sure, sure..." muttered Venetia suddenly in a bad mood. "Since all is alright now, I think I've earned a good sleep. Good night, Lucy."
"Viny! What did I say?" asked Lucy, half-stunned.
But Venetia only showed her back to her and didn't answer. Lucy's joy disappeared almost at once and she felt a new guilt: the one of being happy when Venetia, her beloved sister, had lost everything, had sacrificed almost everything she held dear. A terrible shame seized her and she bent down the head as to hide it while burning tears were invading her eyes.
The following morning Venetia had only to take one look at her sister to know the problem.
"Lucy, stop that immediately!" she ordered dryly. "This guilt is stupid and useless. I need you to be happy, so be happy without remorse."
"But, Viny..."
"Lucy, you're not the one who killed Duncan, nor transformed Meran, and you're not even responsible for that! You have absolutely no reason to feel guilty."
"Yes, I have, for I'm happy and you're not."
"Don't bother for that, Luce. I'll find my own happiness later. But if you are not happy, I won't be able to be happy either. End of discussion."
"But..."
"There's no 'but', Luce."
Understanding her sister's embarrassment, Venetia let her flee during the day and Lucy spent her day wandering in Gethsen with no aim, smiling absent-mindedly at those she knew. As the sun went down, her steps led her to Angelan's.

Text © Azrael 2000 - 2001.
The Lady Fyrehawk. Copyright © Stephanie Pui-Mun Law 1999. Used with permission.
Set Gothiquesque, from Moyra/Mystic PC 1998.