Chapter 15: Alexander, Part 4

Alexander spun around, his anger replaced by fear. "Uncle Fabian."

His uncle stepped into the room, his dark curly hair mussed, one hand in his trouser pocket. "Are you giving the human a hard time?"

"No, Uncle. I just came to see the baby."

Fabian smirked. "Of course you did. And what are you supposed to be doing?"

Alexander bit his lip, but when his uncle asked again, his tone sterner, he answered, "I'm to do my lessons, sir."

"Then tell the baby goodbye and go to your lessons."

With a sigh, Alexander moved to the crib. He stood on his tiptoes and peered in. Tristan lay nestled in white blankets, his dark eyes open and aware. "Goodbye, Tristan." Though his brother gave no answer, Alexander knew he understood.

He dropped back to the flats of his feet and looked to their nurse. "Goodbye, Nanny Hannah. I'm sorry if I gave you a hard time'."

She murmured some dismissive agreement, her shoulders stiff and her attention on her feet. Alexander knew she was scared of his uncle, just as he knew she didn't like the baby. He could feel it, though he couldn't explain it.

With no other delay tactics, he slumped out the door and down the hall, Fabian shadowing his steps. When they reached his bedroom door, he turned back to his uncle. "Why is Mother afraid of guests?"

Fabian leaned one hip against the wall, his arms crossed. "Jesslynn isn't afraid of anyone."

"Yes, she is. She's afraid of Father bringing strangers here."

"Then she's smart to be wary of those we don't know. Now go do your work."

"But why should we be afraid of strangers? Are we supposed to fear what they might do?" He'd read a poem about that before, that had a spider in it.

Fabian chuckled. "While that's a good thing to be wary of, she isn't afraid of what they'll do while they're here. She's afraid of what they'll say after they leave."

"What they'll say to who?"

"To anyone."

Alexander still didn't understand. "But what will they say that is so bad?"

"They might talk about you and your brother to the wrong people. Bad things could happen."

Alexander bit his lip, but tried to keep his voice calm. "What kind of bad things?"

"Your mother and father could get into trouble."

Trouble? Did he mean like a spanking? But"Why? Is it because we're children that never age?"

Fabian flinched. "Who told you that?"

"Father said it to Mother. He said the neighbors were suspicious of us."

His uncle mussed his hair. Though he wore a smile, Alexander could feel that it was fake. "Let your parents worry about it, Alexander, and just do as you're told, all right?"

"But Mr. Riley-"

Fabia straightened, his casual demeanor gone. "Who is Mr. Riley?"

"Mr. Smit's friend. They came to visit and tell Father about a slave rebellion in another county."

"And they're here right now?" Fabian demanded.

Alexander nodded, and his uncle swore. "Go to your room and stay there. I'll see this Mr. Riley for myself."

Alexander didn't bother to tell him that Mr. Smit had vouched for him, or even that Mr. Riley seemed nice. He'd find those things out for himself.

***

Alexander sat at his desk, the worn books spread out before him with a flickering lamp for light, when the clock struck twelve. Moments later, he heard his father's footsteps in the hall, and he paused from his daydream to wait for him. He appeared uncertainly in the doorframe and then plunged into the room, his hands held stiffly behind his back and his face unreadable. "Have you done your lessons?"

Alexander pointed to the opened book on the desk. "Yes, sir."

Oren nodded crisply and turned back for the door. "Good. When you've finished, come down and have your meal. Your mother is planning for your birthday, tomorrow."

"How old will I be?"

Oren stopped on the threshold and Alexander could feel him cringe. "You know very well."

He nodded to himself because he did, or he suspected that he did. He'd noticed something wrong several birthdays ago. "I'm never going to grow up, am I, Father?"

Oren's shoulders tightened like a clenched fist and then he relented and turned back. He met his son's dark doe eyes and answered calmly, "No, no you won't."

"And Tristan?" Alexander pressed.

Oren sighed heavily and nervously smoothed his long, tawny hair. "No," he said at last. "Tristan will never grow up, either."

Alexander looked at his small hands folded in his lap and struggled to come to grips with his father's words. Suspecting the truth and knowing it were two very different things. He'd watched slave children grow up, but they were different than him; their skin was darker and their teeth weren't pointy. They ate the food that was cooked in the kitchen. He'd accepted that they grew up differently than he did because they were different. He just hadn't realized how different.

"Eucey," he began, but his father cut him off.

"Eucey will grow up. She will have children, she will grow old, and she will die. Her children will have children, and they too will grow old and the cycle will continue. But not for us. We are removed from their cycle, my son. We stand outside it."

Alexander swallowed hard. "How long do we stand outside it?"

Oren drew a tight breath and released it slowly. "Forever, Alexander. We will continue as we are, incorruptible and whole, forever. Do you understand?"

He nodded slowly, though the concept was one he only half understood. When he spoke his voice was barely audible. "How many birthdays have I had?"

"Fifteen," Oren answered without hesitation. "Tomorrow will be the sixteenth."

Alexander nodded again and turned to the stack of books on the desk. "I see."

Oren waited, but Alexander had nothing else to say. What else could he ask? "Why are we different? What are we?" He already knew the answer. They were vampires. That was why he must stay away from the sunlight, though Eucey didn't have to. That was why he drank from Nanny Hannah while Eucey ate bread and taters in the kitchen. That was why she would get older with every birthday, and he wouldn't. That was why he was supposed to stay away from them. That was why they weren't "appropriate".

Oren cleared his throat loudly. "If you've finished your lessons, then come downstairs and feed."

He turned back to the door, but Alexander called after him, "How old will I be tomorrow, father?"

"Five," Oren answered softly. "You'll be five."

And then he disappeared into the hallway, leaving Alexander alone.