not you managed to regain your memories, I wanted you to at least have a subliminal connection to your past. I hadn’t decided how the truth might come about or when. Whether I should tell you myself or see what transpired without my interference. Whenever I reflected on your human life and how I’d robbed you of it prematurely, I fell into a desiderium from which it was difficult to surface.
After Catholic Mass, which Xavier insisted you attend faithfully, I’d visit at your house, or Xavier would bring you to my place, or we’d embark on an outing together. Your parents and I remained hyper-vigilant in keeping you safe during your waking hours, but we were frustratingly impotent when it came to your dreams.
The earliest evidence of Lena’s influence appeared when you were just uttering your first words. After papa, Onwee, and gato, there was mater, Latin for mother. Then, a few months later, Xavier told me you were speaking full sentences of gibberish. After listening closely, I determined it wasn’t gibberish at all.
“She’s teaching him Latin,” I confirmed during one of our many discussions about your overall health and well-being. We were at the beach—you, Xavier and me. I’d dug a shallow pit in the sand and filled it with sea water, so that you could splash around safely. The waves were rough that day, and even though I was a strong swimmer, I didn’t trust that you’d not be swept away. You were presently plunging your fingers into the wet shore and drawing up fistfuls of sand, each clump a treasure to behold. Safe within my sights.
“He wakes up speaking it,” Xavier said with a wrinkled brow. “Why couldn’t it be something more useful, like Spanish? Why Latin?”
“Our seductions are more potent when spoken in our mother tongue.”
Xavier’s scowl deepened. “Should we be worried?”
I nodded. Any evidence of her influence was troublesome, though it did not surprise me that she was already laying the groundwork to develop your powers. When Lucian and I were young, she took our education seriously and trained each of us to hone our unique abilities. My seduction enabled me to subdue my enemies and then, if necessary, defeat them with brute strength. Lucian was cleverer, a subtle manipulator who softened people’s wills with his beguiling appearance and silken voice, then used his cunning to plant ideas in their minds. Their thoughts became increasingly obsessive until whatever deed he’d manifested came to pass.
What would be your power, I wondered, and more importantly, to what end was Lena cultivating it?
“Have you tried reaching out to her lately?” Xavier asked.
“I’ve attempted numerous summons. She ignores them all.”
It was maddening to not know what Lena was planning or how she might be molding you already. You were so young, innocent. What if she was filling your head with tales of her demonic pursuits? Or showing you scenes of gore and depravity to try to pervert your psyche?
“Does he seem well-adjusted?” I asked, looking you over for any outward signs of distress.
“Yes, and he sleeps through the night.”
I grumbled at that. The longer and deeper you slept, the more opportunity Lena had to get her claws into you.
“Onwee,” you called, two bright notes that lifted my spirits whenever I heard them.
You held up a shell, and I rose and plucked it from your tiny fingers. It was a pearly cross-barred Venus shell with one perfect hole in its center.
“Very pretty, Vincent. Find me another.” Despite Lena’s naming, we’d decided to go with a more conventional version, a small act of rebellion on our part.
You beamed at the praise, and I strung a few strands of my hair through the shell, adding to your growing collection. I adjusted your sun hat to better shield your face. Even though it was overcast outside, the ambient light might still be too harsh for your sensitive eyes. We bloodborn were hyper-vigilant about the health and vigor of our eyes because that was oftentimes where our power manifested. Though, in my case, my voice had always been a far superior tool of seduction than my gaze.
When I’d settled beside Xavier again, he continued, “There’s something else we need to discuss. I’m thinking of organizing a regular playdate for Vincent.”
More people meant more variables and opportunities for something to go wrong. I liked that you were contained within a controlled environment with plenty of supervision.
“He has you and Santiago and his nannies. He has me. What more does he need?”