Chapter 40

"Does Lucas know?" Vlad asked, a serious note to his voice that was not normally heard.

"That she is a Tesalor? No. She has asked me to keep it quiet in exchange for her starting her own House. Apparently, she is being hunted," confessed Viktor, taking a moment to look at Nadezda.

"Understood. You can drop me off here. I'll try to figure out who was trespassing on my lands."

Viktor let out a sound of agreement and Sasha stopped the car to allow the vampire out.

"Nicholas was special. If this is one of his descendants, I will help look after her. She will have the protection of the House Vampire."

"Thank you, old friend," said Viktor, accepting the oath of protection for Nadezda.

Vlad nodded before disappearing into the darkness.

"Where to now, Sir?" Asked Sasha as he sat patiently waiting for his Boss's next command.

"Home, to the condo. I'll bring her to the estate when she is awake. She could probably feel more comfortable waking up in a familiar place," replied Viktor.

He sighed, things were getting complicated.

The tread on Viktor's body wriggled down until it was touching Nadezda's cheek. It rubbed itself against her in greeting.

Viktor watched its actions, understanding that this whole thing was to get him to come and save his Little Cub. But how did it know that she was in danger?

His question was answered when a black ribbon disentangled itself from her hair and seemingly greeted the thread. So, she could control ribbons. He guessed that made sense as she was a weaver, but he had never heard of a weaver being able to control strings. What else was this woman capable of?

There was nothing that Viktor hated more than a mystery and this girl was a complete mystery that he needed to solve.

But he had time to figure it all out.

Now, however, he needed to know who wanted to kill her.

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Yup, I've said it before and I will say it again, there is nothing better than waking up in a place that you are familiar with.

I didn't even need to open my eyes to know that I was in my room at Viktor's condo. I might not have the nose of a wolf, but even I could smell the Van Helsing. My eyes still closed, I took a deep breath of musk, and cinnamon, and vanilla. The final smell I could swear was the smell of protection, whatever that smelled like.

Like I said, I wasn't a wolf, I couldn't identify every single smell… and in a place like New York, I really didn't want to.

I chuckled at the direction my thoughts went to and I opened my eyes to greet the day.

Apparently, the reason why a nose like mine could detect the smell of Van Helsing is because… he was sitting right beside me.

My laugh must have woken him up as he was looking down at me, his eyes trailing over my face.

"You have really become my Knight in shining armor," I smiled as I looked at the man in front of me. "I have no idea how you even found me, but I am truly grateful."

"You really don't know?" He asked, confusion apparent on his face.

Now it was my turn to look confused. "No, how would I know? I woke up in the casket, six feet underground and without my cell. Are you sure you can't read my mind?" I questioned, the suspicion clear on my face.

"If I could read your mind, little Pui, my life would be so much easier," he grumbled which both reassured me and made me laugh.

"Trust me, you don't want to be in this head. It might just drive you crazy." Viktor made a sound that was neither a confirmation nor a denial.

He held out his hand to me, and I will fully admit that I must not have been that awake, cause I had no idea what he wanted me to see.

"You have very nice hands," I confirmed after looking at his palm and fingers for a few seconds.

The look he gave me made me chuckle again.

Then I saw what he wanted me to see. Crawling down his black suit jacket was a single black thread. It slowly made its way to the Hunter's hand and waved at me.

This time, I burst out laughing, completely unable to hold myself back.

"I didn't know that this was one of the Van Helsings' powers. You can use threads?" I asked. It would be nice if that was the case. Then my ribbons would have something to play with.

"No. We have many hidden… talents… but this is not one of them," he replied with a serious face. His eyes searched mine to see if I was trying to hide anything or not.

I could assure both you and him that my confusion was very genuine, thank you very much.

"Then why do you have a thread?" I asked. When the thread's 'head' dropped, I quickly continued, "Not like it's not a very cute thread, and if it helped you find me, it is a very smart, helpful, great thread."

The thread stood up straight at my praise and looked back to Viktor.

"Does it have a name?" I asked, completely serious.

"Why would it have a name?" He demanded, looking at me like I was crazy.

He had a thread that he didn't even know the name of, I was not the crazy one.

I wiggled my fingers and my black ribbon came out of my hair where it normally rested. This one was the boss of all of them and the one that I had the longest.

"This is Callie," I introduced.

"Callie, as in beautiful?" Asked Viktor.

"No, Callie as in short for Calypso, the Greek word meaning to hide or to conceal," I explained as Callie slipped through my fingers and wound itself around my arm.

"Why that name?"

"Because it allowes me to hide who I am, to conceal that I am also a monster," I said quietly, looking at Viktor in the eyes.

"You are not a monster," he assured me.

"But I can't die," I said, turning to look at the wall. For the first time since my family died, someone knew what I was. I could only hope that I wasn't making a mistake. After all, I had only known this man for a week… or maybe longer… how long had it been?

"Not being able to die doesn't make you a monster," he said, gently placing his palm on the side of my face and forcing me to turn back to look at him. "I know what a monster is. I hunt them, I police them. You are an immortal, what would have once been considered a nymph or a goddess. You are human, you are a Gypsy, you are many things, but you are not a monster."

I had been trying to convince myself for hundreds of years that I was still me, a Gypsy with all my pride intact. The words that I told myself never affected me as much as the handful of words that Van Helsing just said.

I took in a breath, still looking him in the eyes. When it let it out, a weight was lifted from my shoulders. I might not be human, but not being human did not automatically make me a monster. I was not a monster.

I was me.