set into the furthest wall and wondered what lay beyond.
The walls were filled with high bookshelves, and Trey guessed that the majority of the books on the shelves were incredibly old. Two comfortable-looking black sofas faced each other across a smoked-glass coffee table, empty except for one of the ancient volumes, which lay face down in the centre.
Lucien sat down on the nearest sofa and gestured for his daughter and Trey to sit on the other. He sighed as he allowed his back to merge with the soft leather cushion behind him. Steepling his hands together, he gently tapped the backs of his thumbs against his bottom lip, unwilling or uncertain how to begin the task ahead of him.
‘I want to ask you how much you know about yourself, Trey,’ he said after a long pause. ‘But that would be entirely unfair of me after I have promised you answers and not questions. So I shall start by telling you some things about who you are and what you are, and you can fill in any gaps. Is that OK?’ he asked, a sympathetic look on his face.
‘As I have already told you, I knew your mother and father, and I deeply respected and . . . loved them both. Your father and I shared certain . . . skills and interests, and we used these resources to try to do some good in the world.’ He stopped and smiled at Trey. ‘Your father, Daniel, was a great man, and you should feel hugely proud about the difference that he made to a great number of people’s lives. I will provide you with the means to find out very much more about your parents, especially your father and the work that he did, so that you can understand a little better where you come from.’
‘He was an architect,’ Trey interrupted.
‘No, Trey. Your father was not an architect. He did help to build great things, but he did that by fighting against those that would have anything decent and virtuous in this world reduced to pain and filth and misery. Ultimately this struggle led to his untimely death, but before this he was nothing less than a brilliant beacon that was never afraid to cast its light and fire into the darkness that threatens us all.’
‘Lucien, you’re not making any sense. What is this all about?’ Trey asked.
‘There are people, and things , in this world that constantly strive to destroy everything that you and I would consider good. Pitched against these are those like your father, who, in spite of the awesome power of the enemy, are committed to obstructing them in their quest.’
Tom quietly entered the room and sat on the arm of the sofa.
Lucien continued. ‘We in this room are committed to continuing the struggle that your father gave his life for. Like your father, we use our gifts and powers to try to stem the evil that others would unleash upon humanity. Trey, we would like you to join us.’
Trey looked at the people around him. The grave looks upon their faces merely added to how he felt about the utter ludicrousness of what he was hearing. ‘Are you all mad? Or is it me that has completely come off the rails?’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘First you tell me that you’re a vampire, Alexa appears to have hypnotized me in some way to make me believe in telepathy, and now you’re banging on about some titanic struggle between good and evil that you and my father were involved in. Then . . . then you sit there straight-faced and tell me that you want me to join you! This is insane, Lucien! I’m just a fourteen-year-old kid, who, until today, didn’t believe in vampires and whose only experience of them was exterminating them on his games console!’
Lucien stood and faced Trey, his eyes scanning the boy’s face. ‘No, Trey, you’re not just some fourteen-year-old kid – not after last night. Because, last night, although you have no memory of it, you experienced for the first time the full revelation of what you really are. You are a lycanthrope: a werewolf.’
Trey stood there, his mouth hanging wide open as he shook his head
The walls were filled with high bookshelves, and Trey guessed that the majority of the books on the shelves were incredibly old. Two comfortable-looking black sofas faced each other across a smoked-glass coffee table, empty except for one of the ancient volumes, which lay face down in the centre.
Lucien sat down on the nearest sofa and gestured for his daughter and Trey to sit on the other. He sighed as he allowed his back to merge with the soft leather cushion behind him. Steepling his hands together, he gently tapped the backs of his thumbs against his bottom lip, unwilling or uncertain how to begin the task ahead of him.
‘I want to ask you how much you know about yourself, Trey,’ he said after a long pause. ‘But that would be entirely unfair of me after I have promised you answers and not questions. So I shall start by telling you some things about who you are and what you are, and you can fill in any gaps. Is that OK?’ he asked, a sympathetic look on his face.
‘As I have already told you, I knew your mother and father, and I deeply respected and . . . loved them both. Your father and I shared certain . . . skills and interests, and we used these resources to try to do some good in the world.’ He stopped and smiled at Trey. ‘Your father, Daniel, was a great man, and you should feel hugely proud about the difference that he made to a great number of people’s lives. I will provide you with the means to find out very much more about your parents, especially your father and the work that he did, so that you can understand a little better where you come from.’
‘He was an architect,’ Trey interrupted.
‘No, Trey. Your father was not an architect. He did help to build great things, but he did that by fighting against those that would have anything decent and virtuous in this world reduced to pain and filth and misery. Ultimately this struggle led to his untimely death, but before this he was nothing less than a brilliant beacon that was never afraid to cast its light and fire into the darkness that threatens us all.’
‘Lucien, you’re not making any sense. What is this all about?’ Trey asked.
‘There are people, and things , in this world that constantly strive to destroy everything that you and I would consider good. Pitched against these are those like your father, who, in spite of the awesome power of the enemy, are committed to obstructing them in their quest.’
Tom quietly entered the room and sat on the arm of the sofa.
Lucien continued. ‘We in this room are committed to continuing the struggle that your father gave his life for. Like your father, we use our gifts and powers to try to stem the evil that others would unleash upon humanity. Trey, we would like you to join us.’
Trey looked at the people around him. The grave looks upon their faces merely added to how he felt about the utter ludicrousness of what he was hearing. ‘Are you all mad? Or is it me that has completely come off the rails?’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘First you tell me that you’re a vampire, Alexa appears to have hypnotized me in some way to make me believe in telepathy, and now you’re banging on about some titanic struggle between good and evil that you and my father were involved in. Then . . . then you sit there straight-faced and tell me that you want me to join you! This is insane, Lucien! I’m just a fourteen-year-old kid, who, until today, didn’t believe in vampires and whose only experience of them was exterminating them on his games console!’
Lucien stood and faced Trey, his eyes scanning the boy’s face. ‘No, Trey, you’re not just some fourteen-year-old kid – not after last night. Because, last night, although you have no memory of it, you experienced for the first time the full revelation of what you really are. You are a lycanthrope: a werewolf.’
Trey stood there, his mouth hanging wide open as he shook his head
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