Hupotasso (Vampire Bachelor Games #2)

54

54

“I’m so very sorry, Lord Falcon,” the doctor murmurs. “We’ve done all we can, but the damage to your mother’s heart is simply too great.”

I stare at her through the glass walls of the intensive care unit she’s resting in. Her face is pale, almost grey, and I shake my head. She’s surrounded by nurses doing this and that, all dressed in white suits, from their headgear to their shoes. The only colour in this sterile environment is the flowers arranged in their hundreds of bunches behind another glass wall, no doubt sent from royals all over the world who’d heard of her hospitalisation.

Mother can see them, but she can’t smell or touch them; the risk of infection is too great. It must pain her. She adores flowers; the castle is never without them.

As I watch even more are delivered and squeezed onto the long bench now laden with blossoms.

“I thought you said you could repair her heart?” I snarl, turning my attention back to the doctors.

“We did all we could, but she’s not responding to the medication as we’d hoped. I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do.”

I try not to show the shock I feel. I want to rage and demand he make it not so. But he’s the world’s top heart specialist, and there are two others standing beside him nodding their agreement. And I have my image, the royal image, to uphold, one of regal strength and power. I can’t rampage here as I would like and rip all their heads off.

“How long does she have?”

“With the rate of tissue fragmentation and shut-down progressing as it is, it might be best if you and your family say your goodbyes.”

I close my eyes for a second and try to get my bearings. On top of learning that Angie had run away, my failed attempt on Spider’s life and my lack of rest in the past forty-eight hours, this shock is almost too much.

“Your Lordship?”

I open my eyes to the concerned stares of the three doctors.

“I’ll see her now, in private.”

“Of course, My Lord. There’s no need to dress in the protective gear,” the lead specialist adds quietly, “not any more.”

Mother opens her eyes as I approach the bed and takes my hands as I sit beside her. Her own appear almost translucent, and frailer than I’d ever imagined. I realise that although she’s human I’d never conceived of losing her. At least not for at least another fifty or sixty years. But I hadn’t factored in Spider.”

“Hello, darling, it’s so good to be able to see your face. These ridiculous costumes,” she nods her head towards the nurses hovering behind the glass wall, ordered to wait until I leave before they return.

“Mother,” I try to smile, but the pain of seeing her this way twists my lips and constricts my throat. “I’d bring in your flowers, but there are so many.”

“The nurses will read the cards to me later,” she smiles weakly, her heart fluttering and missing a beat before starting again, too fast. “Although they all say much the same thing. Could you arrange to have them all sent to other patients, darling?”

“Yes, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s the small, kind gestures that keep the royals in people’s hearts and minds,” she reminds me gently. “We live in castles and ride in golden carriages while they can sometimes barely afford to heat their homes. Without some show of benevolence royals would lose the populace they feed upon, literally and metaphorically.”

I could almost laugh. Even now, so ill, she seeks to educate me on my role. To guide me as she has always done to do better, be better.

“Mother, the doctors…” I choke, the words stuck in my throat.

“Don’t,” she smiles weakly. “I know. I’ve lived a long, long life. I’ve seen centuries come and go. Your father’s bite assured it.”

“Unhappy centuries,” I groan. “I’d hoped to see you surrounded by grandchildren and living your own life, free from all you’ve suffered.”

“All I hoped for,” she coughs and frowns, one hand flying to her chest.

I reach for a glass to pour her a drink, which she gratefully sips before continuing.

“All I hoped for is for you to have a wife whom you could learn to love. For you to become all you could be. I’ve lived to see that, even if you can’t yet see it.”

I shake my head.

“Falcon, I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“I want you to lobby to stop The Games. They’re a terrible thing. They belong in the past with the Romans and their gladiators. A waste of precious life. Promise me you and Angie will use your influence to end this televised debauchery. She’ll help you, she is good , son. Good for you, good for humanity, and good for vampires too. I chose someone I knew would complement you so you could work together to make the world a better place.”

“Mother,” I shake my head. “Angie’s gone.”

“Gone?” She whispers, her heart beginning to hammer. “But I told you…I confessed…”

“Please, calm yourself. She wasn’t happy,” I shake my head. “I apologised for how I’d treated her. I told her I’d make up for all the damage I’d caused. That we could start again. But she vowed she wanted a divorce. She said she hated me.”

“Darling, she’s been hurt, but I’m sure she’ll come around.”

“No,” I shake my head. “I was so angry, Mother. You know how I lose my temper…” I bow my head to avoid her gaze as I add in a whisper. “I bit her.”

“Bit her?” She murmurs, her eyes widening as the import of my meaning dawns on her. “Not…? You didn’t…?”

“Yes, I did. But it didn’t work,” I look up, my eyes dark, “she didn’t obey my command. She was obviously Spider’s all along. You and I, we were both played. What other explanation could there be?”

“Oh, my foolish boy,” she whispers. “Hupotasso wouldn’t work if she was pregnant.”

As she utters the words I drop the glass I’d been holding. The sound of it shattering pierces the silence of the room as effectively as the truth of what she’s said shatters my misconception. It had been at least three months since we’d had sex, the night I’d told her I loathed her. Could she have conceived that night?

My thoughts race as I stare at Mother’s sorrowful expression before dropping my head to her bedcovers, too ashamed to meet her gaze, too disgusted with myself to even keep up the facade of strength. At this late hour, on her deathbed no less, I’ve disappointed her and proven myself no better than my father after all.

‘Pregnant. Oh fuck. Why? Why didn’t I think of this?

Mother places her hand upon my hair as the image of Angie cowering bleeding and sobbing on the floor, me poised to kill her, floats before my eyes, and I groan aloud.

‘What have I done? How can I EVER make this right?’

“Mother,” I moan.

She makes no reply and I keep my head down, her hand still upon my hair, because I don’t want to look up and confirm what I know — I can no longer hear her heart.