Chapter 3: Jamie - Blood of Betrayal, Part 3

When Jamie woke to the twilight gloom of his room, the first thing he noticed was the emptiness. Despite his hope, Margaret was not there, smiling or otherwise. He sat up, rubbing at his burning throat, and gazed about the room. The previous night's rubble lay everywhere; broken furniture, smashed possessions, even the shattered pitcher. It was as it had been in his nightmare.

He touched his teeth to discover the same sharp points. What if it's not a nightmare? What if this is truth?

It was too horrible to think about.

Still, he climbed from the bed and got dressed, looking often to the heavily covered windows. No light leaked around them, no hint of sun or shine. When he was clothed, he approached them slowly, as though they were an enemy waiting to attack, then carefully lifted the corner of the coverings. He tensed, waiting for light to burn him as his sister warned, but nothing happened. He lifted it further and found the cause: there was no sun. The world outside was cloaked in the soft mantle of late evening. Stars already blinked against the dark velvet, and the horizon was deep purple. He'd slept the entirety of the day.

He dropped the make-shift drapes and left in search of his father. In the corridor, the warm smell of dinner floated to him, and he followed it. His father had waited this long, what would a few minutes matter?

However, it was not a feast at the end of it, but rather his father's steward, William. The man looked upon him with alarm and jumped back, hands raised.

"And so they have done it ta ye as well, young laird."

The smell of the man was overwhelming no not the man, his blood but Jamie struggled to pull back. "Done what?"

"Made ye one of them. Dinnae seem so surprised, as the steward of this place there is no secret hidden from me."

"Then tell me where I may find" though he meant to say many different things, the only word that his tongue would form was, "sustenance."

"The kitchen, young laird. There are arrangements there for this peculiar diet."

"Aye." Jamie nodded his thanks and practically ran, before he did to the steward as he had done to Rechert the night before.

Though the hearth fire was lit in the kitchen, it gave little comfort. Gone was the bustle and activity Jamie had always observed there, replaced with shadowy corners and a heavy emptiness. There was no sign of food, save three carafes of something crimson on the table, next to a trio of goblets.

Jamie recognized the smell immediately. He didn't bother with the goblet, but drank straight from the pitcher in long, satisfying gulps. He stopped, only when it was empty, to stare at the drained carafe with disappointment.

"Uncle Jamie!" A pair of child voices cried from the doorway. Jamie spun, wiping his mouth as quickly as he could, lest the bairns see the blood upon his lips.

Clouds of dark hair, pink cheeks, and bright eyes, the boys tumbled into the room. They flung themselves on him, chattering in excitement, one over the other, so he could scarce make out their tales. He could smell their blood, smell the life in them, and knew instinctively that they'd not been changed as he and his sister.

"Enough," Caitrin cried as she hurried inside. "Enough! Do not pester yer uncle so." She dragged them back, squirming. "Go wash yer faces, and find yer father."

They groaned, but she sent them scooting with gentle swats to their backsides. She watched them go, the pride of motherhood shining in her eyes. "Nay, yer right. They were left as they are, so that they can grow ta manhood."

Jamie shot her a questioning look and she explained, "I told ye last night, we do not age. Had they been made as us, they'd have stayed as babes for eternity. Such a thing is wrong."

He didn't want to think about the implications, the tender ins and outs or tragedies of such an act, so he merely nodded and looked away.

Footsteps came, then a bearded man walked into the room. Long golden hair fell around his shoulders, his expression one of friendly curiosity. Jamie felt at once the difference between him and the children. This stranger was as he was now, changed, inhuman, but older. Much older.

Caitrin straightened and quickly introduced Eagan, the one who had forever changed them. At the sight of his facial hair, Jamie touched his own chin to find it clean shaven.

"'I shaved ye," his sister said, as if she'd read his thoughts. "Eagan said 'twas part of the ritual when Androu and IWhen we were changed."

"Aye, that they say it is, lass," Eagan said good naturedly. "Though 'twas not so in my day, as ye can see, lad." He pointed to his own beard. "Now, let me have a look at ye." The man stood before Jamie, surveying him. "Aye, ye look ta be a strapping specimen. No doubt brave and fierce and all the like."

Jamie narrowed his eyes. That this man was to be his master, in any capacity "Aye. Fierce I be."

"Good, good. A bit o'fierce is always good in this business."

"What business?"

"Why, the business of bein' immortal, lad. Dinnae want a soft pawed dandy, do we? No doubt ye have questions fer me? Mark, I may not be able ta answer them all, but I will do what I can, so long as ye dinnae mind it over me meal." He gave a wink as he poured a goblet from one of the carafes.

Jamie's questions came fast and furious. True to his word, Eagan answered as he could or as he claimed he could. That he had been traveling he affirmed, and had simply asked for lodgings. The turmoil intrigued him, so he stayed on, not telling the castle's occupants his secret nature until he decided to offer them the same. As to how he'd become such, another of his kind had given the blood to him, and on and on, back into the mists of memory.

While they spoke, Caitrin drained two goblets herself, nodding here and there, but never interjecting. When they'd finished, she said quietly, "Though I did not ask Master Eagan's leave ta make ye, I hope he is not too disappointed."

The older man sighed. "Nay lass, I cannae blame ye fer what ye done. I woulda done the same in yer place. 'Tis hard ta watch the suffering of a loved one. I ken already that ye are a strong lass. Yer bravery in the dark deeds of late have shown that." He squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "Where be that husband o'yours?"

"With the bairns, or that was my order ta them."

Eagan chuckled. "Good, good. But we must finish soon, so the mortals might come back and make the babe's dinner, eh?" Jamie's confusion must have been on his face, for he added, "Ta prevent unfortunate accidents, all are ordered ta avoid the kitchen an' sleepin' quarters 'til we've fed. Fresh fledglings have weak control, as yer've no doubt noticed."

Jamie muttered a semi-agreement under his breath, the memory of Rechert bright in his mind. Too bright, in fact. Each moment of the night before hung in crystal clarity, a stark contrast to the foggy memories of all that had come before.

"Aye, that be the difference between mortal memories and immortal," Eagan said.

Jamie looked to him sharply, and Caitrin explained, "Master Eagan can see ta yer thoughts."

"See my thoughts?" Jamie demanded. "What do you-"

"Aye, she means I can hear them, when I choose, or when yer fiery passions make 'em louder than usual. It's a talent Caitrin and Androu are developing, as will you." He chuckled. "Speak of the devil himself, here he is."