Chapter XVII

Lain in the Shadow of Death

Castle Bane

Luxembourg, West of Germany

I t was a clash that often sat at the forefront of Demiesius' mind; the first time he'd come face-to-face with an enemy that wasn't quite his enemy but had wanted him dead. The weight of their aggression had been crushing and had caused Demiesius to question if he'd make it out of the bout still standing. He'd succeeded but claiming victory had driven him to the edge of exhaustion, and he knew he wouldn't have succeeded without the aid of his brothers and sisters at the time.

The destruction a dhampir had the potential of causing was great, but the fear of that destruction showing itself had never been something to fret so terribly over. As elders, there was no keeping up with what vampires in what parts of the world opted to have children with mortals, but still, dhampirs were not a common phenomenon. It was far more likely that a vampire would turn their human lovers than to reproduce with them.

Besides his own children, Demiesius could count the number of dhampirs he'd come across during his time in this world on both hands, using all ten fingers, and only one had ever reached that feared point in their life.

To have witnessed the murder of their father by the hands of mad village folk, have their existence shamed by those same people, and be made to listen to the ugly beratement his mother had to endure; anyone would see how such a level of cruelty could have led the boy to snap. He'd only been sixteen years old, so young and still finding his understanding, but his youth wasn't something that could have saved him. Only a return of his mental peace would.

"Please," the boy's mother had begged all that time ago, and Demiesius could still envision the sea of death behind her in that now vanquished village once located in south-central Romania. "He is but a boy with a broken spirit," she'd said. "He deserves punishment for what he's done; death, he does not. Please, do not kill my boy. Please!"

To watch a mother beg for the life of her child, the tears and break in her voice had pulled so many of Demiesius' heartstrings. While he had not been able to see a proper future for this lost boy, he couldn't see himself going through with the task of stripping the young dhampir of his life either.

While he and his fellow elders had fought a hard battle, it had turned into a bloody grapple for restraint, and instead of killing him, they'd done what they could to put him away the only way they'd known how. Yes, the boy was still alive and centuries of lies regarding his death had been spread, but they'd figured it was for the best that parents of dhampirs, and dhampirs alike, learn a valuable lesson of what could become of them if control were lost.

So, while death was not the only answer, perhaps the threat of it would maintain the efforts needed to keep the promise of forever alive and well for these children of vampires and humans.

Standing inside the castle in which the boy was laid to slumber, Demiesius often wondered if the castle's use was an annoyance to the sleeping boy. Gatherings for debate, organizations, presentations, and such were still held in its walls despite his being here, and while he continued to rest, perhaps the noise was bothersome through the centuries.

"Brother," a welcoming voice came then, and Demiesius looked upon Bethania when she materialized beside him holding a wicker basket of white gardenia flowers and a thermos-like container. Always presented in her beauty, she wore a fitting maroon dress with long sleeves, tall black heels, and her hair was bundled into two French braids that reached down her back. "I would say it is good to see you," she said, "But the tensions I feel from you are unfortunately familiar."

"Is my distress so notable?" Demiesius asked, following his sister where he already knew she was heading.

There were the usual attendants that kept Castle Bane running smoothly during their absence; vampires and trusted humans received word from distant covens, whether it be reports or complaints from different parts of the world. Certain matters would be brought to them if it were necessary.

Nods of acknowledgement were given as they ventured through the old halls, and Bethania returned a smile to them all as Demiesius kept his eyes forward.

"It is rare that anyone accompanies me during my visits like this," Bethania said, seeming to appreciate her brother's presence. "Minerva would come with me here and there, but you, Eros, and Nabadias often have other more important things going on. You, especially, Brother. What with your family that's grown exponentially. What brings you?"

Demiesius held his tongue, the inner tension racking at his bones going noticed second after second.

Bethania smiled to herself then, a huff of air leaving her nose. "You must truly be troubled to have come to me with your heart. Why not discuss this with your husband? I'm sure he would much rather you open yourself to him than me."

"He will grow afraid," Demiesius said at last. "If I go to him with my fears, he will not be able to rest and neither will I."

"Seems like you will already have trouble with that," Bethania returned. "Tell me, Brother. What is it? You know I will always hear you."

Starting down the farthest and longest hall in the castle, the two elders descended the brick-lined corridor toward a curved stairwell that led into the depths.

"A substance has been discovered in Korea," Demiesius announced. "It comes from a simple violet native to a quiet village. One of its residents discovered a bizarre capability it houses that strips a dhampir from their numbness to pain and severely weakens their regenerative potential. Jeremiah has been infected with it."

"Oh, my," Bethania stressed, the tone of worry in her voice speaking of her understanding of Demiesius' fret. "Is that all this substance does?"

"I have an assumption it also blocks an immortal's attempt to grasp a human mentally," Demiesius said. "But I cannot be sure." They stepped through an unlocked set of double doors then, and it opened into another lengthy corridor, the light fixtures glowing a deep blue against the dark stone.

Looking as though they were descending into a gateway to purgatory, a ways ahead was an archway whose wide room was centered with a water fountain. The statue of a woman in flowing robes wielded a tilted vase, and the sound of water was like white noise that carried through the space.

"This man allowed his nephew to consume copious amounts of it in the form of tea," Demiesius continued. "So much that it seemed to have completely wrecked the boy's healing factors. When Eros and I confronted him, he let off a device he must have planted inside the boy in the past. A small blast was set off in his chest, destroying his heart."

"And he died?"

"Yes," Demiesius nodded, rounding the water fountain. "His death was effortless. I lost my composure and killed the man before I could probe for more answers, but Eros and I transferred both their bodies to a facility in Seoul for further analysis."

Coming to stand before a risen stone structure positioned ahead of the fountain, Bethania placed her hand atop the surface of it. Positioned before the water fountain, it was seven feet in length, and when she let her senses wander, the peaceful aura residing within became known. "How easy it was to kill that boy must have frightened you," she said. "You are worried Jeremiah could meet a similar fate? "

"By the hands of a human?" Demiesius shook his head. "I believe my son is far too capable to allow the touch of a mere mortal to bring him death."

"Then…?"

When nothing more was said, Bethania pushed the lid of the stone structure to the side, revealing the innards and the boy lying within looked almost as he had when he was first laid to rest.

With an aura as mild as an innocent child's, Florin Liviu lay nude beneath a silk embroidered cover, eyes closed seemingly forever as the peace on his face went unmoved. His skin was light brown but pale from the lack of light shone upon him through the years, brown hair having grown to reach far past his waist at this point, features were soft and comely, lashes touching the top of his cheeks, and the slightness of his shoulders spoke of how frail he appeared beneath the cover.

Set around Florin's unmoved body were the dried out gardenia flowers Bethania had placed exactly a month ago. Ever since his first night of rest began, she'd taken it upon herself to come to this place at least once every month since 1629, and like all the times before, she came wielding yet another basket of fresh flowers to replace the ones that dwindled .

Watching as she plucked the fragile gardenias from around Florin, Demiesius kept his eyes on the boy. He'd obviously aged during the years, but that didn't stop him from looking as he had before the madness took hold, and his innocence was emphasized when the fresh gardenia were arranged anew. He looked like a portrait, but Demiesius couldn't help seeing a warning in his tranquility.

Feeling for Jeremiah out in the world, Demiesius hated to acknowledge the distance sitting between him and his eldest son. Jeremiah's mental influence was nearly impossible to take hold of, so much that when Demiesius reached out with an address, nothing was returned.

He wanted to believe Jeremiah was still upset with him and merely chose to ignore, but that wasn't the case at all.

You are far from me, Demiesius thought.

The connection once promised to them through blood…was useless. If Jeremiah was brought to the point of irrepressible anger, Demiesius pained at the idea of his son's rage carrying him over the edge, of having to raise a harmful hand against him, of someday having to look upon Jeremiah in a state similar to this.

With his eyes on Florin, when Demiesius blinked, a vision of Jeremiah resting in the boy's place caused him to look away. He didn't want to face the prospect of a future as daunting as one involving the absence of a member of his family, a child of his more than anything.

Jeremiah was the furthest thing from a tiny, fragile boy. He wasn't an infant anymore, a toddler, or anywhere near to an adolescent, but that didn't make it any less impossible for the name of Demiesius' eldest son to cross his mind and not see him as he'd once been.

So small.

So pure.

So innocent.

Jeremiah wasn't all those things; the years made sure of that, but he was good and he always would be those things in Demiesius' eyes. As much as he wanted to give the belief he held in his son the space to be bigger and stronger, Demiesius just couldn't and that would be a flaw he held onto forever.

The inability to let go.

Shutting out the haunting image of Jeremiah taking Florin's place, Demiesius turned his back to the sleeping dhampir, and he said, "Jeremiah has been damaged. His aura is not what it used to be, and his pride will not allow him to speak to me on the matter, but we both know what can follow an outburst if it reaches him and I cannot."

After placing the final gardenia around Florin's body, Bethania then opened the thermos and slowly poured a portion of blood into the boy's mouth, the flow gradually making its way down his throat. "It is a hard truth to swallow," she said, "but not all hope would be lost, Demiesius. Look at Florin. He sleeps, but he is here. It took great effort, but we did not fail his mother. Her son is still alive."

"Sleeping for over four-hundred years does not equate to life," Demiesius said in angst. "I would not want a state such as this for my son, nor would he himself."

Setting the empty thermos aside, Bethania reached into the stone casket, passing her gentle fingers along the frame of Florin's peaceful face, and tucking the strays of his hair behind his ears. She always held firm to a belief that he would awaken someday, thus beginning his second chance at life. Some days and nights, the doubt her brother's held toward the idea of Florin rising again seeped into her, but Bethania wanted to be as hopeful as Florin's own mother had been. She'd been mortal and was gone now, but that didn't mean her faith should die with her.

"You will see," Bethania said. "Hope is not lost for Florin. Refusing to have faith in him is akin to not having faith in your own sons. Talk to Jeremiah, Brother. Tell him the truth of what future may touch him if ever a quest of destruction intercepts him. If you have fears, share them with him. He could be afraid as well, and he doesn't deserve that. To be afraid."

When the scrape of the stone lid closing over Florin sounded, Demiesius captured one last look at the slumbering soul before darkness swallowed him again. There was doubt in him that Florin would someday open his eyes. Oftentimes, it was a preposterous notion, but Demiesius had been met with other events once thought impossible. Like when he'd fathered a child with the love of his life, or when he returned home one night to find the love of his life nearly fifty years after losing him.

Faith, Demiesius thought, perhaps he could hold onto it.

For how long?

That was the real question.

***

By the time Demiesius returned home, it was long past noon in the London area. Nearing three o'clock in the afternoon, the majority of the iron guards that shielded the castle's interior from the sun were down, but much of the first level was left unshielded for his sons. They didn't need sunlight, but they enjoyed it, and he didn't want to strip that from them just for the fact that their parents were beings that could do without it.

With his senses drawn out, picking up on those in the castle was simple. Everyone had a presence of their own; his youngest sons whose natures were always pleasant and even-tempered, there was Jeremiah whose once abundant presence was now nearly nonexistent, and Demiesius could also pick up on the strong array of Min-jae.

The Korean dhampir's aura was so regular compared to Jeremiah's that their nearness to one another almost seemed like Min-jae's was trying to overwhelm the other.

As Demiesius stood in the middle of the grand foyer trying to figure out how he was going to have this conversation, his downcast thoughts were silenced when the harmonious touch of his husband's voice entered his mind.

"You were gone for twelve hours," Hamilton stated, sounding more woeful than upset with him.

"I apologize, my love," Demiesius returned. "There was lots to discover and much more to discuss."

"About Jeremiah?"

Demiesius' eyes turned toward the floor. "About everything," he answered. "I would like to speak with you first before bringing it to him."

Able to sense Hamilton's worry from afar, Demiesius climbed the stairwells toward where his children were gathered, and he found them congregated in a quite spacious entertainment area equipped with various devices he still wasn't all too familiar with. The large television and different electronic systems were in use, each young boy lounged here and there occupied with something to hold their attention.

Lysander was the first to notice him as he lounged on a long divan alongside Gabriel, both boys seeming to share a book no matter the noise of the television and Sebastian and Avery's bickering back and forth.

When Demiesius turned his gaze across the vast room, Jeremiah and Min-jae were standing before what was referred to as the Travel Board. Jeremiah had come up with the idea himself decades ago when he was about seventeen. It was a wooden display board that stretched two full meters with a yellowing map of the world tacked to it. There were two hundred and twenty-eight pins currently stuck to it, each of them indicating the countries Jeremiah had visited in his life so far on top of his favorite cities being indicated as well.

Startled suddenly when Avery bombarded him with an embrace, Demiesius worked up a smile and touched the top of the boy's hair.

"Welcome home, Father," Avery said, "You were gone a lot longer than usual, but don't worry, we saw Dad off to bed once the sun rose."

"I'm sure he appreciated that," Demiesius nodded.

"Why were you gone so long?" Gabriel chimed in from the divan.

It wasn't a question Demiesius felt confident answering right about now. He wanted to speak to Hamilton first before spreading any more word about this. "It's nothing to worry yourself with," he said instead, touching his nose into the top of Avery's hair. "I am also going to head for bed."

"Before you do, Father," Sebastian called then, "May we leave to the city? Of course, if Jeremiah is alright with taking us, too."

Watching his father from across the room, Jeremiah couldn't help but notice his demeanor. He liked to think he knew his father well enough to be able to spot his changes in mood, and while he'd shown upset several hours ago, he doubted the man was still hung up over it. Already knowing Demiesius had spent those hours away gathering intel and gaining what understanding he could on the matter with Saengsacho, Jeremiah knew without a doubt whatever his father had learnt was still with him.

Most people found Demiesius Titus difficult to read, but not Jeremiah. If you knew what to look for, Demiesius was an open book and the distance in his charcoal eyes told Jeremiah almost all he needed to know about how his father's hours away had gone.

"If your brother agrees," the elder answered. "Just be sure to stay close to each other. I don't want to hear about another incident like the last."

"Yes, Father," Sebastian promised, hurrying from the room with Avery, Gabriel, and Lysander gladly following behind. Even without Jeremiah's agreement, it seemed they already anticipated he would bend under their will and take them out for a day in the city.

"Father," Jeremiah distanced himself from the Travel Board, nearing the standoffish elder trying his darndest to remain stern in his face. "I know you won't take it, but I wanted to apologize for my behavior before. You're right, I should have known better than to allow an outburst to take hold of me in a public area. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry."

"Forget it," Demiesius said. "Nocturnal Heights will make their repairs and move on, just as I would have you move on from the incident. Go about your days and nights, but perhaps with a second thought here and there."

"I understand."

"As for the dilemma in Saengsacho," Demiesius added, figuring since Jeremiah and Min-jae were here at once, he might as well offer information. At least, what information he was willing to give right now. "You needn't place much focus on it. That man who went about harvesting the blood of immortals and harnessing the extract of the Pyrenean has been dealt with. From what it seems, no others of the village were involved with his plot. Eros and I will handle the rest."

Min-jae came forth with a question of his own. "May I ask what Kyung-hwan was using the blood for?"

"Eros and I located a hidden compartment in the home he shared with his mother," Demiesius informed. "This Kyung-hwan created blood capsules to distribute the blood of immortals to his mother to save her from the chronic pain she apparently suffered from."

"And you collected them all?" Jeremiah asked.

"To my bewilderment," Demiesius said, "Eros suggested we allow her to keep them. Kyung-hwan was the only person who knew exactly what they were. When she runs out, she will likely suffer again, but she will at least have an amount to last some years depending on how much longer she lives."

"And the rest?" Jeremiah added, noting the relief on Min-jae's face. Knowing punishment wouldn't be brought to Saengsacho was a consolation. "What does that imply?"

"The extract of the Pyrenean gained interest from outside sources," Demiesius stated. "Anyone with possible ties to it and this new knowledge of what the plant is capable of will be dealt with as well."

As much as Jeremiah didn't like the idea that a dangerous substance might be in the wrong hands, that idea itself would lead Demiesius and Eros into what could be considered rocky terrain.

To Jeremiah's understanding, outside sources meant people with an interest in knocking a dhampir to their knees, and the only faction of people in the world that could want such were already known to them.

Were they still so hung up on a confrontation that'd happened over twenty years ago? Jeremiah almost let out a laugh. Of course they were. While vampires often left the past in their wake and carted their memories along for future reflection, mortals would gripe over an incident they started for so long the details became misconstrued; warping their understanding of the events to make themselves the victim. Victors wrote the history books, but tension and constant anger would always refuse the truth.

There was once a time when the devastation of a Public Headquarters could be deemed undeserved, but the second go-round was brought onto themselves whether they wanted to believe so or not, and for that second devastation having been brought on by the assistance of a being such as Jeremiah, of course the Public would take an interest in what it took to weaken a dhampir enough to lead to their death. Jeremiah wanted to laugh again.

Like he'd ever let that happen.

"As I said," Demiesius retrieved Jeremiah's attention again, "Do not let this matter sit with you. Have a good day, my son. Min-jae." He nodded before starting off to bed.

"That's still good news, right?" Min-jae said. "My parents have said they're considering staying in the city, but I'm making the decision to go home at some point. I wasn't sure how much I liked the idea of living in Miss Choi's coven if I couldn't. I have my own apartment there, but it's not home."

"I hope you'll be able to." Jeremiah started from the room as well, Min-jae following behind, and they descended the hall. "Is that something you want to go back to Korea and discuss with your parents? It's midnight over there right now, and I'll likely spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with my brothers. It's been a little while since I took them out."

"Do I have to?" Min-jae asked.

Pausing at the top of the stairs that led to the first level, Jeremiah couldn't hide his smile. Ever since Min-jae arrived here out of the blue, they'd been glued to each other, and he quite liked this feeling that came with someone wanting to be around him, someone who wasn't selfishly looking for something he could give them.

Jeremiah's presence was all Min-jae had come for and that thought alone brought forth a warmth that filtered through each of his veins, whirling every which way through his body until wrapping around his heart.

"You can stay if that's what you want," Jeremiah said, eyes looking toward Min-jae's hand lingering beside his and he took it.

"Is that what you want?"

"It is," Jeremiah answered without fret. His fingers moved to intertwine theirs and their hold on one another was reciprocated, the sweet-tempered light that passed when their eyes were brought together. "I'd like it if we could spend the day together. Perhaps the next day…and the day after that."

Mutually untangling their fingers, Jeremiah and Min-jae stepped aside when the youngest Titus boys hurried by, now dressed and excited to head out; all of them were listing off places they wanted to go.

Just when Jeremiah made to follow, everyone froze when a furious nature rippled through their bones, the incensed gust followed by a level of anger Jeremiah nor anyone had ever heard come from Hamilton's mouth before.

"How could you say that?!" Hamilton shouted from afar, voice so loud it could be perceived well through the many halls. "No! Take it back; don't you ever say that again!"

Jeremiah looked toward his brothers, all of which looked shocked to their core at the idea that Hamilton could raise such a furious tone to Demiesius. "Stay here," he said, and he hurried to his parent's bedroom. The upper halls were darkened from the shut iron guards, but there was a faint glow coming from beneath their door.

"My love," Demiesius seemed to try, his voice as calm as it could be, and Jeremiah slowed his approach as he continued to listen. "Please. You must understand what this means for him."

"No!" Hamilton shouted again. "I don't want to hear it! No one will ever take my son! No one!"

"I know, I—."

"No, Demiesius! I said I don't want to hear it!" Hamilton didn't allow him to finish. "Get out! Get out if you're going to talk such nonsense!"

"My love—."

"GET OUT!"

Jeremiah's whole body tensed from the distress of hearing Hamilton yell at his father with such a loud thunder of outrage in his voice. In all their years together, Hamilton and Demiesius had been the epitome of the perfect couple, and their perfection to one another had never resulted in any sort of expressed anger. Arguments were discussions, tempers never flew, disagreements led to understanding, but this was a type of discussion that led to Hamilton's appall.

The bedroom door came open then and Jeremiah felt like he shouldn't have intruded. Demiesius was going to follow Hamilton's order to distance himself for the time being, but he stopped when faced with Jeremiah through the threshold.

As neither of them had been able to sense him nearby, Hamilton stood fixed by this apparent understanding that there was something changing in their son.

"I didn't want the boys to hear too much," Jeremiah said.

Afraid that Jeremiah may have also heard too much, Hamilton went for him, resisting the angry and doleful crimson rain trying to come forth from his eyes. He hesitated to touch Jeremiah but rested his gentle hands on his cheeks anyhow.

"Don't listen," Hamilton ordered. He couldn't help himself and the trembling taking over seemed to push his tears forward. "You're my son and no one is ever going to take you from me again, you hear me? No one. Do you understand?"

An uncomfortable tightness started at the back of Jeremiah's throat; this strange sensation that seemed unavoidable if the threat of tears reached him. But he didn't cry. He didn't want to cry. Not in front of his parents or anyone else anymore.

"Jeremiah," Hamilton urged.

"Yes," he nodded, "Yes, I understand."

"No one," Hamilton said again, as if saying it over and over would make it true. "You're my boy. You're my sweet boy."