Hupotasso (Vampire Bachelor Games #2)

60

60

“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” Wolf laughs as he bites into a chicken leg and waves it at me to reinforce his point. “Your father was the worst vampire I’ve ever known. Do you honestly think you’d have friends like Jag and I if you were a despot like your sire?”

“Jag wouldn’t agree with you,” I shake my head.

“Jag’s closer to you than anyone,” he snorts, “even if you’re on the outs now. You call, he’ll come. I don’t need to tell you that, surely? How many centuries have we been friends and comrades? I mean, Christ, even now he’s out looking for your wife. Your wife , Falcon, to allow you time to mourn your mother. Do you think your father would have sorrowed as you do over two human women? And do you think your friend would take so much time to help you if he believed you were such a man?”

I raise my glass to him and acknowledge he’s right.

In all the bullshit that’s happened over the past week; my biting Angie, my mother dying, Angie running, I’ve become so morose and introspective detailing all my failings that I haven’t stopped to consider that I’d also tried to set things to rights. Admittedly, I’d fucked those attempts, principally by biting Angie and stressing Mother to death, but I’d tried. Perhaps beating myself up over my faults was a sign I was not yet a complete tyrant.

If I was my father I wouldn’t give a shit.

“Thank you, Wolf. And thank you for travelling here for my wedding and standing beside me at the altar, even though you told me it was a fucking stupid idea.”

“The worst,” he grins. “Nevertheless, I’ve enjoyed spending time here these past months. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer to help with the funeral arrangements and the hunt for your wife, but I have a new lead on my sister and I have to follow it up. I only pray your search for your wife doesn’t take as long as mine for my sibling.”

I shake my head and look down at my food so he can’t read my eyes.

For all the long centuries I’ve known Wolf there’s been one constant; the search for his long-lost sister — a sister his family denies exists, but Wolf maintains is as real as he is. He’s always claimed he knew his younger sister when he was a mere five-years-old, that they played together, and he loved her. Despite his mother and father denying they had a daughter, the lack of birth certificate, and unsuccessful independent enquiries and investigations going back centuries, he’s always maintained, been adamant, in fact, that she disappeared on her third birthday.

He’s looked for her ever since he was old enough to get out the front door without notice.

I clear my throat and look back up at him. He deserves my respect for his unfailing loyalty to the memory of his sister, whether she existed or not. He was constant like no other, and I’ve always admired him for that, even if I don’t truly believe he ever had a sister. Jag feels the same way. We’ve discussed it many times. Royal girls are not as common as boys, no one really knows why, and a daughter would have been treasured even centuries ago as an opportunity for a valuable alliance when she came of age, if nothing else. Vampire records were detailed, bloodlines were accounted for and watched closely. It’s highly unlikely his memory of the little girl is correct. Still, we’ve also accompanied Wolf on more than one dead-end wild goose chase based on information about her whereabouts.

No doubt I will do so again.

“I wish you well on your new quest,” I murmur as we raise our glasses, “and I hope we both have better news to report when next we meet.”