November 5, 1096,

My dearest Genny,

I've volunteered with The Council to join in the wars waging throughout the Holy land. With the amount of humans and death there, the Crusades being waged have attracted a large number of vampires to them. The Council is concerned that such easy feeding grounds will attract vampires who will stop caring about the risk of exposure. They are also concerned that some of The Council properties may be put at risk by the human's ridiculous religious wars. How the human race has managed to live as long as they have is something I will never understand. Foolish, stupid things, all of them.

The idea of going to that baking land is not overly appealing but the idea of losing myself amongst it is. At least I'll not have to see Anna again for a while. It's been nearly fifty years since that first night with her but the revulsion I feel from touching her hasn't eased. I don't think it ever will. I must have time away from this place.

She had another miscarriage yesterday; that is the fourth. I'm beginning to wonder if she is even worth it. I would request an annulment, she doesn't seem to be able to carry to term, but it is still early in the marriage and I'm not willing to alienate her family. Not yet anyway, I will need a son soon though.

By going to aide in watching over the other vampires and protecting our lands, I'll also be able to feed more.

It saddens me to think that you wouldn't recognize me anymore but it's for you that I do this. For you I try to gain this strength and power. My entire existence became about you before your death and it's even more so now.

***

The waves of heat rising from the sand caused the makeshift camp before him to appear blurry. Sweat beaded on his forehead and neck, it stuck the clothes to his skin as it slid down his back. He'd thought he would despise it here but as he stared across the baking desert, excitement began to grow in him. Within the endless sand and sun beating down upon him, he felt a freedom he hadn't felt in years. This place was as empty and barren as he was inside, he could be at home here.

The best attraction about coming to this wasteland had been leaving Anna behind, but he realized there was far more for him here than that. A cruel smile twisted his mouth as he studied the human soldiers gathered beneath the sun and the women that moved amongst them, offering their service. Easy prey, there was so much easy prey here.

Oh yes, he could lose himself in this wasteland of death and blood, he could thrive here.

***

July 27, 1223,

My dearest Genny,

Anna gave birth to our son today. He's a healthy baby, fat and happy. I almost turned away when they offered him to me, but appearances must be kept after all. When they handed me that baby and I looked down at his chubby face, and black hair, for some strange reason all I could picture was a baby girl with my green eyes, and you. It was the closest I've come to crying since the first time I read your words that day on the ship.

The image of you and our daughter was so vivid that I felt I could almost touch you once more. A beautiful smile lit your face as you gazed down at our child with love radiating from your eyes, just as it did every time you looked upon me. Sometimes I think if you saw me now that you wouldn't have that look, not with the thousands I've slaughtered since your demise while in war, and simply for my pleasure. But then I feel you with me and I know there would always be love and forgiveness in your heart for me.

Our baby girl would have been as beautiful as you were. I would have loved her unconditionally and I would have protected her with my life.

I felt nothing for my son, but that was not his fault, I don't feel anything other than pleasure from blood and a never-ending thirst for vengeance. This child will help in that quest for vengeance. He has my blood in his veins after all, he will grow to be powerful, and he will be a strong fighter and ally. I will make sure of it.

She named him Braith, she asked for my opinion on the name, but I didn't have one to give. I don't know where the name came from, nor do I particularly care. I could set her free now, she has finally produced an heir for me, but truth be told I like the cover she gives me. I go to fight and come home to my wife. If I were to set her free I would have to find a mistress or do something to keep up appearances as a man, and I have no desire to do so.

I can force myself to be with her if I must, but I will not set up another woman in my life that I will have to speak with and lay with, without being able to kill her. That is the problem now, for me sex has become entwined with death. My body needs the release but that horrid feeling of betraying you takes me over every time. The only ones lucky enough to walk away from me have been Anna and the women that others know I am with; it is war after all and there is little privacy. I do not discriminate, both human and vampire women fall equally. The killing of the human soldiers is easier when I am engaged in battle and many have fallen beneath my sword and fangs.

I refuse to have to go through another relationship with another woman though or worse yet listen to what she has to say. It is bad enough with Anna, whom I rarely see, but at least when I do see her I know what inane gossip, fashion, and travel conversation I will have to suffer through. Therefore, I will keep up this sham of a happy marriage for as long as it takes for my plan to come to completion.

Until then, I will continue to pretend. I am the master of it after all.

I'll be returning to the Crusades within the month, it's where I can be free. For now though I suppose I will play the role of father.

***

Atticus stared down at the squirming bundle within his arms. The boy, Braith, he reminded himself, had his black hair and his mother's oddly colored, yet striking eyes. Eyes that were focused raptly on him as he walked from one side of the room to the other with the baby. He was surprised to realize that he'd actually believed he might grow to feel something for the child, his child. Even if it was part hers there was a piece of him within this baby. Shouldn't he be reacting to that, shouldn't he care in some small way?

Instead, the emptiness within him grew with every step and just like the night he had first lain with Anna, he felt a growing madness escalating within him. It seemed that each event in his life that moved him further away from Genny, the more the insanity took hold of his mind. Knowing that he required this child for his future plans, he turned and thrust the baby into the nurse's arms before he did something to the boy that would destroy everything he had been working for.

The woman, startled by the abrupt gesture, fumbled to keep hold of the child. Atticus spun away and left the room before he destroyed everyone within it. He had to get back to the desert and the freedom it gave to him. Striding down the hall, he thrust open the door to his rooms. He'd been planning to escape the villa, but it seemed fate had other plans for him when he spotted Merle alone in his private solar, standing by the balcony overlooking the beach. His cousin turned toward him and smiled invitingly as he opened his arms to him.

"My but you're a sight for sore eyes!" Merle greeted cheerfully. Atticus gave him a brisk hug before stepping away. "I hear congratulations are finally in order! And a boy!"

"A boy," Atticus confirmed. He moved further away from his cousin to pour himself a goblet of blood.

"And his name is?"

"Braith."

"Interesting."

"She chose it," he said before downing the contents of the goblet.

The smile slid from Merle's face. It had been nearly fifty years since he'd seen his cousin; their lives had taken them on completely different paths. Merle lived the easy life in Spain with his wife while he enjoyed the massacre of the sand.

"I thought this would make you happy," Merle said quietly.

Atticus's eyes slid sideways toward him, his hand clenched upon the gold goblet, causing it to bend within his grasp. "Happy!" he barked as his façade cracked. "It had to be done! That does not mean I am happy about it."

Merle's eyes widened, he stood for a moment before walking over to pull out a chair. He dropped the blade at his waist onto the table and slumped onto the chair. "I'd hoped you had found some happiness in your life since we last saw one another."

Atticus tossed aside the ruined goblet and brought another one forth. He cursed himself for having let so much of himself show, he'd worked relentlessly to keep up the charade that was his life. The birth of his son and seeing Merle again had rattled him in perilous ways. He couldn't allow it to all fall apart now. Regaining control of himself, he poured himself another goblet of blood.

"Would you like some?" he inquired not bothering to respond to Merle's statement. Merle waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. Atticus walked over and sat across from him. "How have things been with you?"

"Fine enough," Merle responded though his eyes remained troubled as he watched Atticus. "Jane miscarried again three months ago. I think she's had enough of trying and so have I. That was the sixteenth child we've lost, a boy this time. I don't think it was meant for us to have offspring."

"Do you plan to end it with her and marry another?" Atticus inquired.

Merle shrugged. "Things are convenient for us now but I suppose I'll eventually have to take another if she can't produce an heir."

"Do you have any bastards?"

"I'd lay wager that there are a few of them running around out there, none that I'm aware of or have acknowledged though." Atticus nodded and sipped at his blood. "How is it in the land of the sun?"

"I am kept busy," he murmured as his gaze drifted toward the darkening sky outside the balcony doors.

"Do you plan to return to the war now that you have a son here?"

"I'll return to the desert within the month. What brings you here?"

"The Council meeting is next week. I thought I would take a detour on my way to Transylvania to see how you have been and to congratulate you." Merle had been granted his own place on The Council when a young noble from the House of Herstin died unexpectedly in a fire. The noble had been the last of his line and they'd needed someone to step forward to take his place.

"I'd forgotten," Atticus admitted.

It had been years since he'd attended one of The Council meetings. It wasn't required of him while he was battling to keep their lands safe and the vampires within the desert under control. The population of vampires amongst the Crusades was swelling but most behaved themselves, far better than he did. In the beginning he'd come back for every Council meeting, but he'd soon realized that being the war hero, and the only one amongst them with actual battle experience, had elevated him in The Council's eyes far more than his attending every meeting ever would. He was battle hardened, he protected their wealth, and he carried out their laws without hesitation. Messengers carried back his feats to The Council and relayed Council details to him. That was good enough for him. He came back here twice a year, for two weeks to visit with his wife, but that was the only time he spent outside of the desert.

Merle shifted in his seat and began to fiddle with his knife. It seemed as if something was on his mind but he appeared reluctant to reveal what it was. Finally he lifted his head to meet Atticus's eyes. "I ran into Camille."

Atticus's head shot up, for the first time in years a true smile lit his face. "How is she?"

Relief filled Merle's face, he relaxed and smiled jovially back at him. "She's doing well, looked as beautiful as ever."

"What is she doing now? Is she married?"

"She is designing women's clothing in Paris and is highly sought after. That's how I ran across her; Jane insisted we go to see her while we were in France. Though I didn't know who it was we were going to see at the time, and of course Jane has no idea who she is. She has chosen not to marry, though I'm sure if she met the right man she would settle down. She says she enjoys having control over her life, being free, and taking care of herself. She seemed happy enough but she told me she misses Genny every day and that she actually hides a little G in every piece of clothing she creates."

Atticus turned away as tears burned his eyes. He tried not to think about the wonderful life he would have had with Genny if she hadn't been killed, but between this news and the baby, he was flooded with images of her in ways he hadn't been in years. Her raven eyes swam before his face, his nose was filled with the scent of asters as her laughter rang in his ears. His head bowed beneath the piercing blade of sorrow that pierced his heart. A blade that hadn't dulled over the years but only sharpened with every day he spent without her.

"She told me to tell you that she says hello and that she misses you also," Merle continued.

"She wouldn't miss me if she knew me," he murmured unable to keep up appearances with the barrage his senses were taking. "I should have died that day."

Merle leaned over the table toward him. "Didn't a piece of you though?"

Atticus shuddered, his nostrils flared as those words caused knowledge to spark within him. "Yes," he confirmed and lifted his head to meet Merle's gaze. Though it was far more than just a piece of him that had ceased to exist but he would never reveal that. "Yes, a part of me died that day."

It seemed strange to confirm it aloud but once the words were out, he couldn't take them back. Merle sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. He didn't speak again as they sat together well into the night. It was the closest he'd come to making a connection with anyone in years and though he knew it wasn't much of one, he didn't want Merle to leave. The silent presence of another within the room actually made him feel almost alive again, but he knew it was a feeling that wouldn't last.

"She smelled of asters," he murmured.

"I remember," Merle said.

Maybe that was why he felt almost alive again, because he had someone else to remember her with him if only for a little while.

***

December 15, 1225

My dearest Genny,

Word arrived today that my second son was born on October 21. I knew she was to have the baby around then but I didn't return for the birth this time. Why would I? I was there for the birth of my first son; I found no reason to be there for the second. It's reported that he is healthy and that she has chosen the name Caleb for him. It's not a name I would have chosen, but who am I to judge? The children are simply a means to an end after all.

It's strange, people die so quickly within this desert that even though I've been here for some time, I haven't had to move about much in order to avoid detection. It would be a dream if the rest of the world could be more like this place.

***

May 30, 1227,

My dearest Genny,

The Council has called me back. I've just received word that my Uncle Nyles met his demise in a hunting accident and that they believe it is time for me to assume my place amongst them now that they are down a noble. I don't know how I'm going to handle going back to civilization. I don't know if I can go back to the charade that I've been avoiding for almost a hundred and fifty years.

***

Atticus sat and watched as his sons moved around the field. Even at their young ages he could see the differences in the two of them. The oldest had a kindness in him that Atticus was determined to rid him of. It was a horrible thing for Braith to possess, one that would only destroy him in the end. It was a weakness that Atticus could not tolerate. Not in the son that he planned to have become one of his strongest soldiers in the war that he would one day wage across this land. Even as he watched though, the eldest knelt to call forth a kitten that had been hiding in the woods. The kitten crept out cautiously but continued forward at Braith's urging. There was delight all over his child's face as the kitten finally came to him.

Atticus contemplated putting the child out of his misery before life destroyed him also, but he was aware of the fact that the staff of the villa didn't like the younger child. Some even feared him. Caleb was known to laugh as he bit, pulled the hair, or kicked and beat at those hired to take care of him. Atticus found this amusing; in fact it was something he took pride in. Whereas the oldest was every bit the clueless, hapless bastard he had once been, this younger specimen was every bit the heartless, savage monster he had become.

However, Atticus was old enough to hide the insanity and ruthlessness within him, Caleb was not. The youngest may be the merciless son he would need to one day crush the human race beneath his heel, but the vampires would not follow him. They were more likely to turn against him and put him down as a child when it would be easier to kill him, if they thought there was any chance he would rise to power.

The oldest though, humans and vampires alike loved the oldest; he had a magnetism about him that few could resist. Perhaps it was his pretty face, Atticus thought sardonically as he was already shaping up to be a handsome, strong boy. Even more so than the younger child. At six, Braith was already twice the size of the other vampire children he was being raised with and the star of all his training courses. He may not have the savagery within him that Atticus required in the boy, but he had the power and the ability to lead that Caleb did not possess.

There was always the chance that he could rid the eldest of the weakness of compassion that would one day drag him down, and that was exactly what he intended to do. Braith grinned as he caught the kitten in his hands and held it before him. Walking across the field toward him, Atticus saw much of his old self within Braith and he hated him for it.

"Kill it," he commanded brusquely.

The smile slid from Braith's face as his head tilted back to look up at him. "Excuse me papa?"

"I said kill the kitten."

Behind him the younger one began to giggle. "But I don't want to," the older protested.

"It doesn't matter what you want. In this life you won't get what you want, learn that now child. Crush it."

The boy stared at him from uncertain eyes that were the same shade of gray with that strange blue band around them as his mother's. He despised those eyes. His gaze fell to the orange and black tabby cat squirming within Braith's grasp. Atticus watched as Braith's hand moved to grab hold of the kitten's head but at the last second, instead of killing it as he'd been told, the boy tossed it toward the tree line it had emerged from. The kitten's legs were braced apart, its hair stood on end when it landed in the woods. A small hiss escaped it before it turned and fled into the forest.

The younger one began to laugh louder as Atticus snatched Braith up by the back of his tunic and lifted him before him. The color faded from Braith's face, his eyes bulged from his head. Atticus gave him a sharp shake back and forth. "You are never to disobey me again!" he snarled.

Dropping his arm down, he dragged the child behind him on the ground as he stormed back to the villa. The child was brave and obstinate, he'd give him credit for that, but he would learn his place. He would learn that this world was only a place for cruelty and he was going to be the one to teach it to him. The sound of the boy's cries fell on deaf ears as he dragged him back to the boy's room and locked the door behind them.