but sometimes we need to be able to express ourselves freely in the company of those we love and trust.
“Larten needs to rebel,” Seba said. “He has stood by me loyally ever since we met in that place of the dead, but the time has come for him to face the world by himself. He must choose his own path, not simply march with me down mine.”
“Why don’t you just tell him that and cut him free?” Wester asked.
“It is important that he thinks it is his own choice,” Seba said. “If you have to be told to rebel, it is not a true rebellion.” Seba noticed Wester’s confusion and laughed. “You might have assistants of your own one night, and then my actions may not seem so curious.
“In the meantime I must ask you to trust me. Say nothing of this to Larten. Continue to suffer with him as he fails more tasks and grows ever angrier. If he asks how I reacted to his insults tonight, tell him I fumed and cursed his name. Let him think I am as angry with him as he is with me.” Seba’s eyes softened and his voice dropped. “By no means tell him that I love him dearly, or that this hurts me a lot more than it infuriates him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The three vampires came to a city in the middle of the night. It was raining and they trudged through the streets in silence, keeping to the shadows. Larten and Wester were paying little attention to their surroundings, heads lowered, waiting for their master to find a spot where they could rest up. They assumed Seba would lead them to a graveyard or the ruins of an old building, as he usually did, but this time he surprised them by stopping in front of an inn.
“I feel like sleeping in a comfortable bed tonight,” Seba said. “How does this establishment look to you?”
“Very nice,” Wester said, beaming at the thought of spending the night indoors for a change.
“Fine,” Larten grunted, casting a weary eye over the front of the inn. Then he paused and studied it again. It was an old-looking building, with blue glass in the windows. Not many inns had such curious glass. In fact Larten had only ever seen one exactly like it, a long time ago, when he was still a human child and passed by this way quite often.
“I know this place,” Larten whispered, raising his head and staring at the street with more interest.
“Do you?” Seba asked, faking innocence.
“I’ve been here before. This is…” He stopped and gulped. “This is the city where I was born.”
Wester and Seba stared at Larten with surprise, though Seba’s stare was forced. “Really?” Seba purred. “I had not thought. But yes, now that I cast my mind back, you are correct. It was in a graveyard not far from here where our paths first crossed, aye?”
Larten nodded slowly.
“Well, this is a nice surprise,” Seba chuckled. “Or is it? Would you rather we move on and not spend the night here? It might stir up old memories. Perhaps we should–”
“I don’t mind,” Larten growled, feeling strangely uneasy, but not wanting to admit to his concerns. “It makes no difference to me. Stay or leave — I don’t give a damn.”
“Very well,” Seba sniffed. “In that case we will stay. And, Larten?” He shook a finger from side to side when Larten looked at him. “Do not.”
The innkeeper was surprised to see three travellers abroad at such an hour, but Seba said they had been travelling in a carriage that had crashed when their horse lost its footing. The innkeeper expressed his sympathy, then gave them a reduced rate for the night – against Seba’s protestations – and led them to their rooms, one for Seba and one for his assistants.
“A kind and generous gentleman,” Seba noted as the innkeeper returned to his post. He turned questioningly to Larten. “Are all the people in your city of such fine standing?”
“Not that I recall,” Larten said darkly, thinking about Traz and the way the foreman had murdered Vur Horston all those years ago.
“Well, perhaps they have improved in your absence,” Seba smiled, then bid the pair goodnight and turned in.
Larten sat by the window in their room and said nothing, staring out at the darkness and the few people who passed by during the remainder of the night. He was remembering his old life, the days when he and Vur had set off to work each morning, fearing Traz’s wrath, but pleased to be together, making wild plans for the future, dreaming of a time when they could break free of the factory and city and head off out into the brave, unexplored world beyond.
Wester kept a close watch on Larten. He was certain that this was no accident. Seba had brought them here on purpose. He guessed it was to get Larten thinking about the past, the path he had taken in life, the decisions he had made. Nothing could turn a person’s thoughts towards the future more than a volley of ghosts from the past.
Wester didn’t want to play Seba’s game. He was worried where it would lead and what might happen to Larten if he rebelled as Seba wished. He was tempted to say nothing, keep his head down and hope that Larten stayed in the room until Seba announced that it was time for them to leave. But that would have been unfair. He could sense, by the way Larten shot him occasional glances, that his friend wanted to talk about this. So in the end he put his concerns aside and asked the question that Larten needed him to ask.
“Are you going to visit your family?”
Larten blinked as if the thought had never crossed his mind.
“What family would that be?” he replied.
“Your human family.”
Larten shook his head. “I am no longer human. They mean nothing to me.”
“They’re still your family,” Wester said.
“The members of the clan are my only family now,”
Larten insisted. “Vampires have no need of human relatives.”
“But don’t you want to find out what happened to them?” Wester asked. “Aren’t you interested in their fate, if they’re alive or dead, sick or well, successful or poor?”
Larten shrugged. “I put such concerns behind me when I became Seba’s assistant. I serve him now. I do not wish to divide my loyalties.”
“How can finding out what happened to your family result in a division?” Wester pressed. “It’s natural to be concerned about those you were close to. Your family played a huge part in your life when you lived here. I know you were closer to your cousin than any of the others, but you still cared about them, and I’m sure they cared about you.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” Larten huffed. “I bet they were glad to be rid of me — it meant more food for the rest of them.”
“I doubt they were that cold,” Wester said softly.
“You never met them, so how would you know?” Larten sneered.
“They were your kin,” Wester said. “They shared your blood. They must have had some good qualities, or where did yours come from?”
“Don’t try and flatter me,” Larten growled, fighting to hide a warm smile. “You know that I love you as a brother,” Wester said.
“Stop!” Larten winced. “You’re going to make me cry!”
“Shut up,” Wester snapped. “I’m serious. I love and respect you, Larten, and have always looked up to you. But I’m envious of you too. Not because you’re faster or stronger than me, or because Seba is much prouder of you than he is of me — don’t deny it.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Larten said.
Wester’s face dropped. “Weren’t you?”
Larten chuckled. “Well, maybe I was.”
Wester