The Journal of Michael O'Shane

Journal Entry – July 21, 2009

Tonight did not go exactly as planned.

I was shutting down my computer and splashing on a little cologne while preparing for a night out. The concept of dating still had me nervous and uncertain of myself as I had not engaged the ritual since my mortal days. I still did not know if I was ready for it. The rules had changed. Society changed. I pride myself on being perceptive enough about the way the world turns around me even if I don’t engage it on its terms. My book shelves still contain dusty, leather bound volumes, after all.

But that isn’t what I sat down to write about tonight.

It does go a long way in explaining why I didn’t notice my phone buzz until I walked out to the grey sedan parked in my driveway. I only had enough time to glance at the car; the keys didn’t even make it out of my pocket before the chime indicating I had a message sounded. Frustrated, I reached into my pocket and produced the small piece of confusing technology, flipping through menus until I found what I was looking for.

All at once, my screen filled full of messages. All of them were from Peter.

I opened one. Then two and three and four. Each one read similar to the one before it and each one begged me to contact him as quickly as possible. Sighing, I indulged in a rare stream of profanity spoken in my native tongue and shook my head, walking back into the house and lingering in the vestibule. Annoyed, I punched in Peter’s number and waited for my brother to pick up the phone.

He did so on the third ring. “Robin?” he asked. “Did you finally receive my messages?”

I clenched my jaw in some attempt not to repeat my slip into decadent language, regardless of Peter’s ignorance of Irish Gaelic. “Yes, I received all twelve of them, Peter. I have no idea why you felt it necessary to keep messaging me, but yes, I received them loud and clear.”

Peter paused. “You sound rather grumpy tonight.”

“As a point of fact, I am.” I sighed. “Please tell me this is important. I had some place to be tonight and…”

“It is about Flynn.”

I stopped speaking abruptly at the sound of that name. Somehow, my brother has learned after twenty-six years how to capture my immediate attention and evoking Flynn is one of only a handful of methods. Memories drifted to me of living in Kilkenny some years back. After parting ways with Peter, I swore to myself I would avoid my cursed younger brother at all costs should he find me in the Irish countryside. He beat on my door and I turned him away… until he said the name Flynn.

“What about Flynn?” I asked, before the better sense telling me to hang up the phone prevailed.

Peter drew a shaky breath. I walked into my library and sat in my office chair, leaning an elbow against the one of the arms while waiting for my brother to speak. “I need to do something about him, dear brother,” Peter finally said.

I nodded in a slow, pensive maner. “What brought this about?”

“Victor. Well… Not him specifically, but him in general.”

“You’re confusing me.” I raised an eyebrow. “What does ‘not him specifically, but him in general’ mean?”

“In other words…” Peter sighed. “He has not demanded I do something about him, but I need to do something because of him.”

“Why?” Reclining back in my chair, I rocked in it a few times and turned toward my computer. “Did Flynn attack him again?”

“No. Not yet anyhow.”

I frowned on impulse. I hated the words ‘not yet’ because they always suggested ‘but soon’ might follow. “Then what has you concerned about Flynn for Victor’s sake?”

“Could you come over?” I thought I heard Peter’s voice waver, but even if it did, he recovered quickly. “Please, I know you had plans, but I would like to speak with you as we used to when we were in Philadelphia.”

His words stung somewhat. We used to convene regular meetings to ask one how the other was doing, but ever since moving to Shreveport, neither of us made a habit of keeping with tradition. I emailed him the journal entries I typed from handwritten volumes and saw him when I picked up the children to instruct John on his sword skills and Lydia on being a fledgling vampiress. My private chats with Peter were fewer and further between, though, and more often than not occured over the phone.

I nodded, shrugging off the jacket I picked out to wear and coming to a stand. “I’m on my way,” I said. I hung up the phone and slipped it into my pocket. Sighing, I walked back out to the vestibule and opened the front door, producing my car keys again and pressing the button to disengage the locks. They clicked. I opened the driver side door to slip into my seat. Within a few moments, I was well on my way to Peter’s estate.

Pulling in to the driveway, I looked at the house and did not notice much in the way of signs of life. I cut out the ignition to the car and swung the door open, stepping out and shutting it before jogging the remainder of the way to the front door. Pressing on the button for the doorbell once, I stood and waited until the door opened and my nephew John stood on the other side.

“Uncle Robin,” he said, standing aside to allow me in. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“I didn’t either, John,” I said with a sigh, walking into the entryway and pausing to look at my nephew. John shut the door and turned to face me. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Where is your father?”

John glanced in the direction of the hallway. “Probably in his study. He’s been spending a lot of time in there lately.”

I nodded. Patting John once on his shoulder, I thanked him and walked further into the house, turning down the hallway and finding the door to Peter’s study ajar, a light on. His name was nearly past my lips when I rounded the corner, but I stopped myself from speaking it when I found the room to be unoccupied. My brow knitted in confusion, I turned in the direction from whence I came and paused in the corridor. The faint sound of piano music drifted to my ears, but I ignored it at first in favor of figuring out where Peter might be.

The music continued, however, and when I became aware of the fact that it came from the other room, I wandered into the sitting room and lingered in the doorway. Peter sat at the piano, his fingers touching the keys and playing hit or miss with the chords of a song. I watched with interest, attempting to remember when my younger brother ever expressed any interest in playing any sort of instrument. “Have you been practicing?” I asked.

Peter smiled, but did not look up from the keys. “Some. Here and there when I can manage the time.”

I walked a few paces further into the room. “I have to admit, I had no idea you wanted to play piano.”

“My mother taught me some when I was younger. Maestro is finding a violin, but I wanted to play this in the meantime.” He paused, but his fingers did not. “I have had this urge to actually touch the music I listen to.”

I nodded. Walking up to the piano, I leaned an arm against the top. “The music sounds different when you’re in love,” I said.

Peter nodded. “Very much so.” He drew a shaky breath. “How did you know that was why?”

“Hard not to.” I punctuated my words with a chuckle. “He is a musician. Touch the music and you’re touching that part of your soul where he resides.”

My brother nodded again. Silence settled between us. I listened to him play for a time and found myself so lost in the notes, the sound of his voice jostled me from whatever I was thinking. “Did you ever fancy you would see me so head over heels for another man?” he asked.

I laughed. “Brother, I might have only lived for a hundred and sixty years, but this has been long enough for me to see quite a few things take place I would have never thought possible. We are vampires. Vampires are no respector of genders.”

“Granted.” He glanced at me. The sight of a smile surfacing proved to be encouraging. “Still, for how attached to the lingering aspects of my mortality I am, I thought I would have to shed a few layers first before I would consider the possibility.” Peter chuckled. “Turns out it was the other way around. He has been the one teaching me how to be my true self.”

“He suits you.” I nodded. “I would not tell you that if I thought otherwise.”

“I think so as well.” Peter nodded in return. “He reminds me of you in some ways. In other ways, though, he is completely different.”

I raised an eyebrow, attempting to suppress a grin. “Are you telling me you’ve secretly wished you could bed me all these years?”

Peter stopped playing abruptly and shot me a look of abject revulsion. I laughed. “What in the world is behind that look?” I asked.

“Bloody hell, Robin.” Peter winced. “As though I could ever think of you in such a manner.”

“You are so young. Goodness.” I shook my head. “That point aside, however, I could not refuse the open door. You poke fun at me often enough I relish the times when I can turn the tables on you.”

Peter allowed a visible shudder to run through him. “Robin, I might be young, but please.” He eyed me up and down. “You are not my type.”

I chuckled and this time he laughed with me. The resonate peals of laughter between us replaced the piano music in the room and dissipated into utter silence once the moment passed. Peter’s smile faltered and the sight caused me some alarm. I frowned, my eyes set on him. “What is it that has you troubled?” I asked. “Are you regretting this?”

“No.” The answer came so fast, it nearly knocked me aback. Peter looked at me, his eyes indignant. “No, not at all. Not now, not ever. No. I love him deeply and eternally, Robin. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

I nodded slowly. “So then tell me what you needed to say, brother.”

“I will, I am…” Peter rubbed his face and allowed his hand to settle on his lap. “… working around to that.”

“Allow me to help you, then,” I said. I leaned further on the piano. “Flynn.”

“Flynn,” Peter said, repeating the name, his gaze distant. “Yes, him.”

“Yes, him.” I raised an eyebrow. “What about him and why does this concern Victor if you say the assassin has not been antagonizing your lover?”

He frowned. “He has not been yet, but I wonder about it, brother.” Peter’s hands settled on the keys. Softly, they pressed down on the ivory and the first tentative notes became a song once more. “Everything has been happening in what seems like a flash. It feels as though part of me is waking after a long slumber and stretching its legs to see the light of day. Believe it or not, I like it.”

“Like what, brother?”

“Being this way.” Peter’s smile resurfaced. “I have been enjoying being a vampire for the first time in my life. I have ceased using the word ‘curse’ and replaced it with ‘gift’. The ‘gift’ of immortality. I even started to use my abilities again.”

My eyes widened. “You’ve been using your abilities?”

Peter nodded. His smile broadened. “I showed Victor what I could do with my hands recently. The light, you know?” He waited for me to nod before continuining. “Well, I showed him that and we have discussed several times over how I shelved my powers after what happened with Monica and how rarely I ever use them. He spoke of honing them and I…” Peter shrugged. “I… thought the time was right. I wanted to bring them out again.”

I shook my head. “Remarkable. Now, if you want to know which epiphany surprises me the most it is that right there.” I chuckled. “Knowing how stubborn you’ve been with me for years about using them, I almost feel I should ask for some proof.”

He laughed. “Not right at the moment, brother. I promise a demonstration soon.”

“Fair enough.” My eyes shifted to the other side of the room. “So, you’ve been finding some measure of contentment, I gather. Coming to your own as a vampire, merging it with your abilities as a seer; being in love with Victor, loving Celeste. You have a nest here vampires secretly envy when they think themselves incapable of romance.”

“Only, I have an assassin constantly waiting in the wings who could screw it all up.” Peter frowned. “This is my problem.”

“You think he would disrupt things?”

“That is just it, Robin, I do not necessarily think he would disrupt things. I think if or when he destroyed something, it would be because of me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Explain, please.”

Peter sighed. “Flynn is tied into my thoughts and emotions somehow, only he takes them to extremes. I feel hungry and he is ravenous. I feel aroused and he is insatiable. I feel angered and he is homicidal.” He glanced at me quickly before looking back at the piano. “You know all about the homicidal part.”

I nodded, but said nothing more. Nothing more needed to be acknowledged about that bitter memory. Peter sighed. “He has no limits,” he said. “And that whole debacle on the veranda was my fault. Flynn took a faint echo of residual hurt I had harbored against Victor and made it his carte blanche to come out and provoke that fight. Whereas I was content to live and allow things to settle back into place, he started a fucking battle.”

“So, you fear him taking your impulses and exaggerating them?”

He sighed. “I fear anything of the like. Him using my sentiments in any manner as a touchstone for a myriad of reactions.” I watched as Peter’s eyes began to glisten. The sight caused me to frown. “Dear brother,” Peter said, “I have these horrific visions of Flynn taking some aspect of my thoughts or feelings and going on a rampage. Or being provoked somehow with me unable to control him. I told Victor I feared the assassin drawing a blade and using it against him and that whole discussion between us became rather intense.”

“How so?” I settled on the bench beside Peter and fixed my gaze on him.

Peter stopped playing. His hands settled on the keys and his eyes raised to regard the polished wood before him. A blood tear escaped his eyes and trickled down his cheek. “I asked him to defend himself and he refused. Said the same damn thing I would have said in his shoes. He would sooner take the blade than draw a sword against me to end my life.” Peter raised his hand to quickly swipe away the rogue tear. “Something has to be done, though. The truth of it all is that I need him as much as he needs me. So, I must stop this from ever being an issue.”

>He lowered his hands onto his lap and remained sitting in position. I drew a deep breath and looked away. “This is a conundrum,” I said.

Peter nodded. I raised a hand to drum on the top of the piano and focused on the sight of my fingers while continuing. “Suppressing him is only going to anger him, Peter. As much as I hate to say this, you and I both know it’s true.”

“I know.” He sighed, looking down at the ivory keys and brushing a finger over what appeared to be a smudge. “Not to mention everybody tells me how much they favor their beloved assassin. As though any of them knew how hard it is to walk around with this perpetual voice buzzing in your ears at the worst possible moments. Ignoring his temptations, his taunts, his presence. Him wanting to come out to the surface and push me back into the closet.”

I frowned. “I know. I can’t begin to imagine how tiresome that must become for you.” I sighed. “Has he been troubling you a great deal lately?”

“No.” Peter looked at me. “Strangely enough, he has been rather quiet lately. Very much unlike himself. I have been asserting myself very strongly these days.”

“But then comes the other shoe. How long will it last?”

“Heaven only knows.” Peter shook his head, looking away again. “Brother, I simply want to be. I wish to reconcile this being I am and enjoy the rest of eternity. I want to embrace what I am. Not spend any further time worrying about what Flynn might do to Victor or anybody else I hold dear.”

“Too bad you and Flynn can’t come to a meeting of your minds.”

Peter’s head whipped back to line me in his sights. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Would that not solve everything? Mend the fissures and reconcile the sides. You’re embracing your vampire nature after all, I would think this would please Flynn enough for him to consider it.”

I felt a set of eyes staring at me and looked back at Peter without realizing I looked away. A wide smile spread his lips in the first overjoyed expression Peter had managed for my sake that night and I could only grin back at him. “Did I say something which pleased you?” I asked.

Peter nodded and before I knew it, I found myself smothered in an embrace. Peter’s arms wrapped around me and his hand patted my back three times before he pulled away again. “Robin, you are a genius.” He stood, bringing his hand to his mouth and beginning to pace. “Integrate the personalities. I am the dominate one, so my thoughts, passions, and inclinations would take precedence, but Flynn’s vampirism and ability would blend into me completely.”

“Is this even possible?” I asked. “Wouldn’t you have done it by now?”

My words stopped Peter’s pacing. He frowned at me. “Dear brother, I never wanted to. I never had any reason to and no inclination to immerse myself within the devil’s whims.”

“And now you do?”

Peter looked away. He sighed, shutting his eyes. “Truth, Robin?”

I nodded. “Truth, Peter.”

“I enjoy killing.” I watched as the hint of Peter’s fangs emerged while he spoke. I fought against mine. “I enjoy the taste of blood running down my throat and the smell of fear, the hint of lust, the carnal decadence of taking, consuming, and depleting.” His eyes opened, this time possessing a hint of wickedness inside them. “Robin, all along I have been the devil, Flynn was the only one with the gumption to actually make good on my lusts until now.”

The corner of my mouth hinted at a smile. “Well, now. That only took twenty-six years and six months.”

Peter shot me a look of annoyance which quickly became a frown. “Not all of us had a maker focused on training us to be vampires. Some of us were taught how to be assassins first.”

My smile disappeared. I nodded. “I did you no favors in that regard, but we’ve discussed this a hundred times over. If I knew then what I know now, I might have dragged you off to Ophelia’s coven from the start.”

“Yes, I know you would have. And I am jealous of you at times, you know.” Peter smiled in a wistful manner. “You knew Sabrina when she was of a mind to travel and savor the immortal gift. You had a companion for a maker at first.”

“Your time will come,” I said. “One way or another.”

“I know it shall. And I shall relish every moment of it, knowing who will be standing beside me.” I watched as Peter’s eyes shut and the smile on his face turned more delighted. “Dancing through the streets and stalking through the night. Seducing and enticing the mortals before feeding from them. Each evening, rising and relishing the bonds of love.” He nodded. “I want this, Robin. Whether or not it can be done, I sense it happening just the same.”

I nodded, finding myself becoming distinctly jealous of the happiness playing on my brother’s face. Ecstatic for the love he found with Victor and the love he possessed with Celeste, but unable to fight off a tinge of melancholy even after his lids lifted and bright green eyes regarded me again. “Robin,” he said, the aura of contentment lingering on his features, but his smile becoming softer. “You need to get out there and be happy.”

I huffed and looked away. “As though I knew what that was any longer.”

“Surely there are things which make you content.”

“Some.” I frowned. “Have not felt all that happy ever since…” I stopped.

Peter furrowed his brow. “Ever since what?”

>My eyes refused to engage him again. Instead, I rose to my feet, considering the remainder of that statement and the face who emerged as though walking through the veils of sadness and finding me in the place where she left me. “Never mind, Peter,” I said, waving my hand in a dismissive manner. “It isn’t worth discussing.”

Peter nodded, concern latent in his eyes. “Alright, brother.” He sighed, his gaze remaining fixed on mine. “Do you think this could work? How can I ensure this is made permanent?”

I sighed, digging my hands in my pockets. “Well, if you had a spell caster.”

“A sorceress?”

“Or a warlock or somebody who could bind your personalities. I do not know. The only person I knew who might have the foggiest idea…” I stopped speaking abruptly.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

I shook my head, but the more I considered it, the more I wondered. It was as though Peter’s epiphany of self brought one about for me as well. Looking up at him, I nodded. “I have a few calls to make, so I will leave you to your piano.” Walking to him, I met my brother in an embrace. “Love them with all your soul. You discovered something very important, Peter. You discovered the lengths we have to go to in order to shelter the things which are priceless. I don’t blame you for one moment for wanting to ensure you and Victor have many happy decades ahead of you.”

Peter appeared befuddled when I pulled away, but I did not spare him a few additional minutes to respond. I waved and jogged for the front door, not pausing on my way to the car. There were things I needed to attend to before dawn found its way onto my doorstep.

One of them, a call placed to Russia, to check on my immortal child.

Sláinte,
Michael