chorus of hissing accompanied her expression. “He’s enslaved our sons and daughters. He represses any and all attempts to take back power. He turns our own kind against us. I’m your mother for gods’ sake, and you’re a demon hunter.”
Whenever I was tempted to respond hotly to her accusations, I had to take a moment to breathe deeply, which, in the dream realm, meant surveying the idyllic scene before me. Inevitably, my gaze returned to you, my vibrant focal point.
“The demons I hunt have committed crimes against humanity,” I said as my defense, but it was a weak one.
“According to their rules.”
“There must be law and order.”
“Spoken like a true soldier.”
I turned on her then, and I knew from her alarmed expression, my demon nature was showing. “If I’m an obedient soldier, it’s because you made me one. You molded me into a killer from the time I was born. You compelled me to follow your orders unquestioningly. So, if you’re looking for someone to blame, ask yourself what you might have done to turn your own best assassin against you.”
She sniffed indignantly and set her mouth in a grim line. I couldn’t remember many times she’d admitted to being wrong, and she obviously wasn’t going to now.
“You have a new master now,” she said and lifted her chin towards you.
“We can agree on that.”
“And for the record, I do not approve of your choice in parochial schools. Catholicism, Andronicus?” She shuddered in disgust.
“It was his parents’ choice. Xavier’s at least. They felt it would give him a strong moral compass.”
“Or a crippling guilt and self-loathing from which he’ll never recover.”
In truth she was right; it could go either way. The task of rearing a child was fraught with opportunities for blunder.
Having finished stomping the grapes, you clambered out of the bucket and ran over to us, throwing your grape-stained arms around my waist in an exuberant hug.
“Bravo, mi amore,” Lena said. “Now, run to the cellar and fetch us a bottle of wine. I’m sure it’s been a while since Henri has had our traditional Falernian variety.”
You scampered off, and her gaze followed your retreating form with a mixture of love and devotion.
“What will you do when he remembers?” Lena asked, her gaze sweeping over me surreptitiously. We’d both done things that demanded explanation and even then…
“You believe it to be a foregone conclusion?” Humans were generally ignorant of their past lives, but demi-gods were often reborn due to the accolades or affections they’d earned as mortal beings. Gods didn’t like letting go of their beloved heroes and paramours, hence the allowance for divinitus inspirata or divine inspiration.
“His mind is strong, and he’s curious by nature. It would take a concerted effort to prevent it,” she said.
Was it better to foster a fresh start, unencumbered by the grief and tragedy of your past life, or would it be better—more honest, at least—to confess to our transgressions?
“I don’t know,” I said at last. I felt ill-prepared to make such a momentous decision. “Will you make him choose between us?” It seemed the natural conclusion, for I despised her truly, and she’d made it clear to me time and again I was not in her good favor.
She regarded me thoughtfully before replying. “I’ve accepted that I no longer have the ability to persuade you to my side. We both have regrets. We’ve both made mistakes. How about we agree, at the very least, to keep each other’s secrets and let Vincere form his own opinions on our characters?”
It was a promise and a threat. I swallowed this bitter pill. I only wanted her to put your health and safety above that of your physical powers. To do what was best for you, regardless of her own ambitions.
“Vincent is a gentle soul. He’s not like us.”
“What do you mean, not like us?” Her shrewd eyes narrowed at the offense.
“Not like me and Lucian, not meant to be used as a weapon. He’s too kind and compassionate.”
Lena, unimpressed by my plea, only stared through me as if gazing at your future.
“Anything can be used as a weapon, Andronicus. Even kindness. Even compassion.”
7
Vincent
I looked forward to Sundays all week long because that was my day with you. Swimming at the beach or lazing around by the pool. Strolling through South Beach and people watching. Eating decadent meals at our favorite restaurants. Sampling my latest experiments in baking. You traveled so much for work that you hardly ever kept your refrigerator stocked, and I liked