hour ago.
He studied the sunlight spilling into Patrick’s living room through the open window and stepped forward. Directly into it, feeling its warmth paint his body.
He sighed. For some reason he could not explain, he felt disconnected. What did it mean that he could withstand sunlight? He knew it wasn’t normal. The way Death had stared at him back on the beach, as if she’d seen a ghost, told him what he could do was not right. So what did it mean?
He raked his hands through his hair, a distant part of his mind reveling in the sun-kissed strands. Luxuriating in the warm flush heating his perpetually cool flesh. “Ah, fuck. What the hell is going on?”
“Enjoying it?”
Patrick’s casual question jerked Ven’s head around. He stepped away from the window, back into the cool shadows of the living room.
Patrick shook his head. “Don’t, Ven. You deserve to stand in the light.”
The bitter note in his brother’s words made Ven frown. They’d walked home from the beach in silence, each lost to their own thoughts. Patrick had called Bluey and told him he was taking the day off before heading for the shower, leaving Ven to ponder the surreal events of the morning.
Now, his brother stood before him, a towel slung around his bare shoulders, eyes clouded with torment.
“Not the usual start to the day, was it?” Ven smiled, trying to break the tension in the room. He felt odd. Like some vital turning point had passed that he should have been prepared for.
Patrick didn’t answer.
Ven let his attention drop to his brother’s torso. Numerous gashes and puncture wounds scarred Patrick’s chest, some still seeping blood. Ven flinched, the jarring sight filling him with the very familiar wave of protective anger. He welcomed the emotion. It was normalcy, a state that seemed to be rapidly slipping away from them both at the moment. “I’ll find the fucker who sent that thing after you, brother. I promise.” The vow felt right on his lips. And he would. That was what he was meant to do.
Wasn’t it?
Patrick looked at him and shook his head. “I’m done with this, Ven. I’ve had enough.”
Ven frowned. He didn’t like the tone in his brother’s voice. It was flat. Emotionless. “What do you mean, ‘done with’?”
Tossing his towel onto the sofa, Patrick crossed to the window. “All I’ve ever wanted in my life was to be normal, to help people, to surf, and to swim. Four simple requests of whatever supreme force pulls the strings of my existence.”
Ven narrowed his eyes. “We cannot choose our fate, brother. Mum and Dad didn’t choose to die wrapped around a telegraph pole in a twisted hunk of metal. I didn’t choose to become a vampire.”
Patrick rounded on him, his face etched in dark anger. “You don’t think I know that? Jesus, Steven. I live every day thinking about that. Wondering if their car accident really was that? An accident? Wondering if you’d be a Pulitzer Prize winner now, rather than a freelance journalist if it wasn’t for me? I spend every bloody minute of every bloody day, deep in my subconscious where I can’t block it out, wondering if the people the most important to me have suffered for what I am?” He turned back to the window, his jaw bunching, his stare locked on the glaring light beyond. “I’ve had enough.”
Ven studied his profile, his throat tight. “What are you, Patrick?” he asked quietly.
Patrick stared at the day outside.
A surge of hot anger ripped through Ven. “Y’know, we’ve been over this time and again. I don’t have the answer, just a gut feeling. If there’s something you should be telling me, something I should know…”
Patrick didn’t say a word.
The demon deep within Ven growled. Impatient frustration roared through him. He rubbed at his face, struggling to keep his fangs sheathed. That he struggled at all in the presence of his brother worried and annoyed him. “I need answers, Pat. I need to know what is going on. I’ve been pretty laidback about things since becoming a vampire. I think I’ve taken the whole lifestyle change pretty well, but I’m not going to just keep letting you ignore whatever reason you are here for. For some reason, something wants you dead and it’s time you accepted it.”
“And that something is Fred? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Patrick’s softly spoken question punched into Ven’s gut like a fist. He sucked in a silent, completely redundant breath, fear and anger flooding through