Chapter 9
741words
"You have the nerve to mention the child, Justin?"
I asked softly.
Justin's head snapped up, his eyes red. "I know he's dead... I know I killed him... I'll spend the rest of my life atoning for it..."
"No, you're wrong."
I clapped my hands.
The curtain to a side door drew back, and a wet nurse walked out, holding a five-month-old baby boy.
He was healthy, strong, and bright as a little sun.
He had my amber eyes and a profile that resembled Justin's.
But there wasn't a trace of vampiric coldness about him. Instead, he radiated the powerful life force unique to royal werewolves.
"Orion," I said, taking the child and kissing his rosy cheek. "Look at that pathetic man on the floor."
Justin was completely stunned.
He stared at Orion, trembling. He could feel it. That was his bloodline.
The child hadn't turned into a dried-up husk or a monster.
He was perfectly fine. Healthier and stronger than any vampire fledgling.
"Is... is that..." Justin reached out a trembling hand, trying to touch him, tears streaming down his face. "My son... he's alive... Gods, he's alive!"
He tried to stand, a fawning, pathetic smile on his face.
"Gracie, I knew you were amazing. That's our son! He's the perfect hybrid! Quick, let me hold him! If we work together, with the Bloodspring, we'll be invincible!"
I looked at him coldly and took a step back, moving away from his filthy hands.
Orion, in my arms, seemed to sense the repulsive aura. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and buried his face in my shoulder.
"You've got two things wrong, Justin."
My voice was ice.
"First, his name is Orion. He is the future king of the Moonlit Alliance. He has nothing to do with you."
"And second, what makes you think you have the right to touch him?"
Justin froze, staring at the beautiful, healthy child. Then he thought of his own demon-spawn, gnawing on the life force of his clan.
All of this beauty should have been his.
He had thrown away a pearl, thinking it was a worthless stone. He had treasured a catastrophe.
This psychological torment was a thousand times worse than any physical pain.
He slumped to the floor, letting out a hopeless wail.
"Please... Gracie, if not for me, then for the innocent lives in my clan... give me a little of the Bloodspring..."
His spine was broken.
Looking at him now, the last of my hatred faded, replaced by an endless, cold disgust.
"You want the Bloodspring to kill the demon-spawn?"
I took a crude glass bottle from my dimensional ring. It was filled with a cloudy, shimmering liquid.
"This is Orion's bathwater," I said coolly. "But since it was touched by royal blood, it should be more than enough to cleanse your pathetic little curse."
I tossed it.
Thump.
The bottle rolled to a stop by his knee, kicking up a little dust.
"Take it and get out. Consider it a final act of charity from my son."
Justin shakily picked up the bottle of bathwater.
It was his salvation. It was also his ultimate humiliation.
But he had no choice.
Under my father's murderous gaze, he clutched the bottle and scrambled out of the hall like a beaten dog.
...
The aftermath was exactly as I'd foreseen.
Justin returned with the "holy water" and killed the demon-spawn. Isolde died a painful death in the backlash.
But without my father's protection and with its strength decimated, the Crimson Court was quickly carved up and absorbed by other vampire factions.
Justin survived, but his life was worse than death.
He lost his title, his mate, and the heir he should have been so proud of.
They say that on many nights, wandering vampires whisper tales of a crazed lord lingering outside the wards of the Moonlit Holy Mountain.
He never dares get close. He just stares at the palace on the summit from afar, muttering the same words over and over:
"That's my son... That's my Orion..."
And whenever that happened, the werewolf guards on patrol would release the hounds.
He would spend the rest of his long, miserable immortality in regret—a disgraced lord, forever hunted, forever humiliated.
And me?
I stood at the highest peak of the Holy Mountain, holding Orion's hand, looking out over the vast lands that were mine.
The sun shone brightly. The future was mine.
