The Measly Jar of Motivation – Daisy

Despite the number of art classes that she taught in a week, Friday evening’s, at the close of the day, were Daisy’s favourite. For the past few years, she had willingly given up her time to teach a class at the local hospital. There were no age or ability stipulations, resulting in the class attracting a wide range of students. It ran on a drop-in format so from one week to the next, she never knew who was going to be there.

Balancing her large plastic craft boxes in her arms, Daisy headed down the hallway to the lounge that she had been allocated for the class.

“Allow me to open your door for you,” offered a young man chivalrously as she stood struggling to balance the boxes on one arm.

“Thanks,” she replied with a smile as she sidestepped past him into the room.

“Is this the art group?” he asked shyly.

“Yes, it is but class isn’t for another half hour. I’m just in early to set things up.”

“Need a hand?”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

As they set up each workstation with the requisite arts and crafts supplies, they chatted about the class and the type of mediums it was able to offer the budding artists. From the plastic wristband just visible under the cuff of his sweatshirt, Daisy confirmed that he was a patient. When she had started teaching the classes, she had been asked not to ask the patients why there were in hospital. Many of them, usually older women, openly told her but she sensed that there was something this young man was hiding, and she respected his privacy.

“I’ll be back in five,” he said a few minutes before the class was due to start. “Save me a space.”

“Of course,” replied Daisy. “And thanks for the help to get set up.”

“Pleasure,” he said as he flashed her a smile.

True to his words, he returned just as the class was starting. He sat quietly working on a small sketch for the two hours and at the end of class he handed it to her.

“For you,” he said shyly.

It was a beautiful drawing of a daisy.

“Thank you.”

Each week for the next six weeks, he was there waiting for her. They fell into an easy routine where he helped her to set up the room then nipped away for a few minutes before returning to take part in the class. Out of all the students/patients that she had taught, his sketches showed the most talent. Some weeks he would paint but mainly he preferred to sketch. After a couple of weeks, he asked if he could borrow some supplies to use during the week. Without hesitation, Daisy gave him a sketch pad, a box of pencils, some paints and a couple of brushes.

One Friday, the hallway was empty when she arrived and there was no sign of him in the class either. Her heart sank a little. She’d been looking forward to their Friday catch up all week. As time had passed, they’d formed a friendship that she secretly hoped they could continue when he was no longer one of the patients. It suddenly struck her that he’d never told her his name.

“Oh well,” she thought as she passed out the art supplies to the rest of the group. “Perhaps he went home.”

Two hours later, as she was packing up, Daisy became aware of someone standing in the doorway. It was a middle-aged man, but he had a familiar look about him. He was holding a sketch pad and a bag of art supplies.

“Hi,” she said with a smile. “Class is over for tonight. Sorry.”

“I came to give you these back,” said the man stepping into the room. “And to say thank you.”

“Thank you? I don’t understand,” began Daisy then the penny suddenly dropped. These were the art supplies that she had loaned to her missing student.

“My son passed away this afternoon. Cancer. Allergic reaction to his new meds caused a cardiac arrest they say,” the man’s eyes filled with tears as his words faltered.

“Oh, I am so so sorry,” gushed Daisy reaching out to touch the man’s arm.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, “You’re the first person I’ve told.” He paused then cleared his throat before continuing, “Storm loved your classes. They were all he talked about these past few weeks. He hadn’t painted in a long time, but you gave that pleasure back to him.”

“He was very talented,” complimented Daisy, thinking to herself that Storm had been the perfect name for him.

“He had made you something. Think he had been planning to bring it along tonight. Thought I better pass it on,” he paused. “And return the art things.”

“He made something for me?”

Storm’s father nodded as he handed her the sketchpad and the bag. “It’s in the pencil box.”

Accepting the things, all Daisy could think to say was, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’d best be going. Family to call. Arrangements to sort out. Nice meeting you.”

He turned to leave, adding quietly, “A parent should never have to bury their child.”

“No, they shouldn’t,” empathised Daisy, remembering her own young daughter’s white coffin vividly. “Can you please let me know the arrangements when you have them? I’d like to pay my respects.”

He nodded then turned and walked down the hallway, shoulders slumped, and gaze lowered.

Feeling her own emotions in turmoil, Daisy set the things down on the table. On impulse, she flicked through the sketchpad. It was filled with sketches…sketches of her! Each one had a daisy emblem hidden in it somewhere. In one it was a flower in her hair; in another it was a flower on her T-shirt. Closing the book, she reached into the bag for the pencil box. Inside the box, nestled among the pencils she found a flat blue stone.  It was a lapis lazuli palm stone. Turning it over, she saw that Storm had painted a tiny daisy chain round the edges and in the centre had written “A little pocket hug from me to you.”

Tears flowed silently down her cheeks as she slipped the stone into her jeans’ pocket.

Airport (acrostic poem)

Arrivals and departures

Irresistible lure of the newsstand

Realisation that the trip is over

Praying that the flight is on time

Only worry is “will the suitcase survive?”

Really should have packed less

Trips are fun

(image sourced via Google- credits to the owner)

The Restoration of the Kitchen Library

Ever start a task and seriously wish you hadn’t?

A month or so ago I was getting work done in the house that involved knocking down a wall to extend my existing kitchen and fitting a whole new kitchen.

There are floor to ceiling bookshelves at one end of the room so before the work commenced, I packed up all my books. No mean feat.

Scoot forward a month and the work was complete…which meant that the books needed to go back on the newly painted shelves…all nine large boxes of them!

Previously there had been no rhyme nor reason as to how they had been arranged. (I can feel some of you book lovers twitching as I write that.) Books by the same author did tend to be grouped together but they most certainly were not in alphabetical order.

That had to change!

Was I up to the task?

Putting those books back proved to be something of an endurance event.

Initially I spread the alphabet out to allow space for the collection- A’s on one shelf, R’s nearer the floor and M’s in the middle of the middle shelf – you get the idea- and began to empty the boxes.

I quickly decided that there would also need to be a few separate sections for poetry books, biographies etc so each of those was assigned one of the smaller shelves.

As I unloaded each box, the shelves began to fill.

The alphabet gaps proved to be too tight, so shelves were stacked then oved along and down to squeeze in more R’s or S’s. The re-arrangement meant some of the books were lifted and shifted three and four times.

By the sixth box, the sweat was pouring off me and over three hours had passed.

By the seventh box, I’ll admit I was wishing I’d never started.

By the right box, I was cursing certain authors for writing such weighty tomes.

By the ninth box, I was exhausted.

More than five hours after I started the boxes were empty and the books were back on the shelves. There’s really not much room to spare!

Then my mother drops the bombshell – “We’ve got some of your books. When do you want them back?”

Aghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

A Widow For A Year And Change…..

I don’t often write these blogs on a personal level, preferring to keep the vast majority of my personal life out of the social media spotlight. This week is an exception.

I’ve been a widow for a year…and a few days… and it still feels weird…surreal…unreal.

There’s a certain loss of identity that comes with this new title that isn’t sitting easy with me. Am I single? Am I still married? I know that legally I’m single but what about emotionally? Who am I now?

There have been a lot of hurdles to get over this year as I try to rebuild not just my own life but also a new dynamic to family life too. It’s an ongoing journey and there’s a long way to go still with certain aspects of it.

I have tried to take time out this year for myself. I’m not good at putting myself first. It really doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m also not very good at being patient with myself. I set far too high a level of expectation of myself but at least I’ve recognised that so that’s a small step forward.

On World Mental Health Day I attended a webinar through work about burnout and it proved to be a bit of a lightbulb moment for me. Burnout and I are not strangers to each other. I first burnt out in 2012. (I recognise that now, but it took a while to acknowledge this.) It was that experience that set me on my current creative path so there was something positive came out of it.

Last year left me burnt out for a second time. If I’m being honest, I actually burnt out towards the end of 2021 but had no option but to keep going. I can admit that now. I have tried to be gentle with myself this year…. or have I?

The session I attended on 10th October brought me up short. Had I been pushing myself too hard? When I asked a close friend that question, they replied “Probably have.” That too brought me up short.

One of the casualties of the way I have been feeling both physically and emotionally this year has been my writing. I don’t mean these short weekly blog posts. My current work-in-progress, my 9th book baby, is the innocent victim here. The words just haven’t been flowing. I’ve felt disconnected from it. I parked it a few months ago, started a new project but that felt all wrong too, so I went back to the original piece. I owe it to that story to finish telling it.

Another thing that session from earlier this month made me acknowledge is that fresh signs of burnout are appearing. I’ve spotted them but they need to be addressed and addressed soon before they spiral out of control. And address them I will. I promise.

Several followers of this blog and my creative journey have been asking when my next book will be out. They’ve been asking if there will be more books about Silver Lake and Jake Power. They’ve been asking if there is more to come from Riley.

I guess where I’m going here is yes, but all in good time.

I have Book Baby 9 partially written. It’s about a third to halfway there. I just need to be patient with myself a little longer and not try to force the words out onto the page. When you do that, they don’t necessarily land in the right order. I’ve been working on it for two years…that’s longer than I’ve spent writing any of its siblings.

I owe it to myself and to the tale to take my time and not force the issue. Creatively it needs to flow and for now that flow is a bit of a stop/start affair, a bit like everyday life.

One step at a time. One word at a time… and this widow will rediscover her creative mojo.

Journal – an acrostic poem

Jotting down thoughts

One thought at a time

Using the words as therapy

Relating the tale helps

Nothing to hide

Always honest

Love how the words reveal the truths the eyes don’t see

Silently Watching Upon a Hunter’s Moon

Staring down at the lifeless homeless girl, Jem ran his hands through his hair and groaned. He could feel her blood coursing through him, taking the edge off his Rabbia Sanguigna.

“If only it would last,” he thought to himself as he tucked her stinking nylon sleeping bag round her corpse. With a click, the flame of his lighter danced in the dark. He touched it to the sleeping bag then transported himself away before the flames caught.

A few minutes later, he touched down in the courtyard outside the beach hut, just as dawn was breaking.

The girl had been the seventh person he’d taken in the past four weeks.

“Jeremiah.”

“Mother.”

“Walk with me before you go inside,” instructed Meryn, her tone leaving no room for him to decline.

Together they walked in silence along the narrow coastal path, the full Hunter’s Moon lighting their way until they reached the bridge. Stepping off the path and into the shadows cast by the stand of trees, Meryn indicated that he should follow.

“Where have you been?” she asked him directly.

“Hunting,” he replied evasively.

“Don’t even try to lie, Jeremiah,” she began, her voice echoing with concern. “I can smell human blood on you…and not for the first time lately.”

An uneasy silence descended upon them before Jem said quietly, “Mother, I think I need your help, I can’t control the thirst.”

“Drinking from that human with Trine started this, didn’t it?”

Jem nodded.

“How many?”

“The girl tonight was the seventh,” he confessed, bowing his head in shame. “I’ve taken care to cover my tracks.”

“Seventh!” echoed Meryn. “This has to stop!”

“Don’t you think I don’t know that, mother!” he snapped. “My Rabbia Sanguigna is raging out of control, and I don’t know how to calm it down. Nothing works.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked, her tone considerably softer.

“You were busy with Trine and Luna. I thought it would pass. I thought I could control it.”

“But you can’t,” she finished for him.

“I’m terrified I hurt Luna.”

His mother looked at him in horror.

“The very first time, all those years ago when I was partially transformed, I almost bit my son one morning. I stopped myself. Bit the cat instead,” he explained. A single tear slid down his cheek.

“You won’t harm your daughter,” assured Meryn warmly. “It’s not vampire blood you are craving.”

“Help me,” he whispered.

“I will,” promised his mother, reaching out for his hand. “How did Anna quench it the first time?”

Letting out a long sigh, Jem said, “That was a long time ago.”

Reaching into his pocket for the well-worn pouch of crystals that he always carried, he added, “I know it involved some of these.”

Taking the pouch from him, Meryn loosened the strings and tipped the stones out into the palm of her hand. Her keen eyesight detected which stones had been shaved in the past. “Opal, Moonstone and Turquoise. It’s a start. What else?”

“Blood,” replied Jem, thinking back. “And bark from a tree…an oak tree, I think.”

“I’m familiar with the potion,” said Meryn calmly. “I can prepare it for you but it’s a short-term remedy.”

“Can you do something more permanent?”

“Perhaps,” she mused. “But not here.”

“We need to go back to Stefan’s castle, don’t we?”

Meryn nodded, “But not yet. Luna is too young to travel, and Trine still isn’t strong enough. They both need more time before its safe.”

“When?”

“We’ll wait until the Snow Moon,” advised Meryn.

Jem nodded knowing in his heart that there was no other choice.

In the cold darkness of her cell, Anna allowed a single tear of regret to slide down her cheek. She could feel her runner’s pain, his anguish at the blood rage he was suffering from; she could feel her own blood rage rising and for the first time felt lost. Unable to hunt for herself she had no way to quench her own thirst…. or did she?

The Measly Jar of Motivation – Fifteen Years Down the Line

It had been years since I had seen her. Life got in the way. You know how it is. Maintaining adult friendships is tough- work, family, kids, divorce…they all get in the way.

A friend of a friend brought her back into my circle by chance.

Back in school, she had been a lively girl. One of life’s unique colourful souls. I’d secretly had a huge crush on her. Many many times I’d almost asked her out on a date, but I felt that she was too good for me. She deserved more.

She was one of life’s free spirits and I was keen to learn where life had taken her to.

I spotted her easily when I arrived at the restaurant, recognising her long sun-bleached blonde hair instantly. Fifteen years down the line and I’d know her anywhere.

My heart was pounding in my chest and my palms were sweating as I approached the table. Would she recognise me?

“Hi, Lizzie,” I heard myself say as I reached the table. “Great to see you. It’s been a while.”

“Hi,” I heard her reply.

Something was different…

I took a seat opposite her, almost sending the small vase of flowers in the centre of the table crashing to the floor as I bumped the table.

She smiled and my heart skipped a beat, but I sensed that something was just a little bit off. There was an air of serenity about her. There was no sign that that free spirit was still flying free. She was dressed entirely in black. Where had her colourful gypsy clothes gone?

And where had the long, ragged scar that now ran down her cheek come from?…

The Scent of Summer (poem)

If I could bottle the scent of summer

It would start with the smell of the ocean

The saltiness dancing in the early morning air.

If I could bottle the scent of summer

It would be the smell of sunscreen tinged with sand,

A gritty coconut aroma.

If I could bottle the scent of summer

It would be the tantalising smell of pizza

With a whiff of a side of fries.

If I could bottle the scent of summer

It would be smores and ice cream

With a lingering hint of BBQ long since devoured.

Silently Watching After The Corn Moon

For three days and nights after Luna’s birth, Trine’s life hung in the balance. Caring for the baby fell largely to Jem, allowing Meryn to focus her energies on healing the new mother. The younger vampiress had lost so much blood when she had haemorrhaged post-partum. Every time that Meryn thought she had stopped the bleeding, it started again.

As soon as night fell, Jem was despatched daily to hunt for his partner. Hunting all night, he brought back flask after flask of deer blood in an effort to sustain Trine’s basic needs. The excessive hunting brought on a thirst within him which in turn resulted in yet more hunting. By the third night, he was struggling to find any deer. He suspected that word had spread and that they were hiding from him. In desperation, Jem risked killing a horse that was in one of the fields to the south of the hut. Killing the animal didn’t sit well with him but he was exhausted and knew he only had the strength for one kill.

“Equine blood?” commented his mother, sniffing the flask. “You took a huge risk for this, son.”

“I was careful. Made it look like an accident. Even spilled some into the earth so it looks like the poor creature bled out naturally in its field,” he replied, running his hands through his hair.

“You’ve done well. I’m proud of you,” she complimented warmly. “Rest. I’ve settled the baby. I’ll sit with Trine tonight.”

“What if she wakes up?”

“I’ll fetch you straight away,” promised his mother.

With a weary nod, he acquiesced and headed back upstairs to bed.

As the sun rose over the river to the east, Jem felt a hand on his bare shoulder.

“She’s awake,” Meryn announced, her relief evident in her voice. “And she’s asking for you.”

“Awake?” echoed Jem, eyes wide in disbelief and all thoughts of rest gone.

Meryn nodded, “Come and see for yourself.”

Without stopping to grab a shirt, Jem pulled on his jeans and hurried downstairs. His heart was pounding as he entered the small room.

“Hi,” said Trine weakly. She was propped up on a pile of pillows, with Luna nestled on the bed beside her.

“Hi, yourself,” replied Jem with a grin as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling? You ok?”

“I will be,” she assured him then gazing down at their daughter said, “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“She’s perfect,” he agreed. “Fine set of lungs on her too. She’s not always this quiet.”

With a soft cough, Meryn interrupted them, “Trine and I were talking before I fetched you. She needs more blood.” The older woman paused, “Human blood.”

“I was worried you were going to say that,” sighed Jem.

“She’s not strong enough to hunt for herself,” continued Meryn.

“Wait!” interrupted Jem sharply. “I’ve not taken a human life in years. I make do with animal blood. I don’t know….”

“You have no choice here!” snapped his mother. “This girl, your mate, needs human blood.  The best quality blood you can find for her. Not old, weak, watery blood. Young, athletic blood.”

“And how do you propose I do that, mother?” he challenged.

“What about the people who walk and run in the hills?” suggested Trine. “Don’t some of them camp alone outdoors?”

“They do,” conceded Jem. “But I’d need to take you to them. I can’t exactly kidnap a trail runner or a hillwalker and bring them here!”

“True,” admitted his mother. “Is there nowhere close to here? Travel is risky when Trine is still so weak.”

“Killing locally carries too much of a risk,” he countered. “We can’t jeopardise our home. We have Luna to think about here too.”

“Could you transport me to a suitable camping spot?” asked Trine. “I need to make the kill myself.”

“My dear, you’re weak as a kitten. That would be a substantial risk to take,” observed Meryn.

“I know a possible spot,” revealed Jem reluctantly. “I’ve camped there myself in the past. If I transport Trine there, I’ll stay close by to help in case anything goes wrong. Between us, we can do this.”

“I’m not so sure,” began Meryn.

“Mother, make your mind up!” snapped Jem failing to hide his frustration. “It’s the safest way to get human blood without drawing attention to ourselves here.”

“Meryn, we’ll be fine,” added Trine. “Jem won’t let anything happen to me.”

“Fine. It needs to be tonight,” stated Meryn. “I’ll take care of Luna until you come back.”

Shortly after midnight, Jem touched down near a stream about a hundred miles north of the beach hut. He unfurled his wings then quickly scooped Trine up into his arms before she crumpled at his feet. As they had set off, she had barely had the strength to stand. Off to their right, as he had hoped, there was a small blue tent. Scanning the immediate area, he confirmed that it was the only sign of human life for a few miles. He pointed it out to Trine, and she nodded. Treading silently, Jem carried her across the tufts of grass and heather until they were beside the tent.

“Ready?” he whispered as he set her down on her feet. “I’ll unzip the front of the tent. The rest is up to you.”

“I can do this myself,” she stated firmly, a determined look on her face.

“There should only be one person in such a small tent. If there’s a second, signal and I’ll join you.”

“But you don’t….”

“If there’s two, you’ll need me to.”

Reluctantly, Trine nodded. Kneeling on the damp grass, she silently unzipped the opening of the tent. One look inside told her that there were two sleeping occupants inside. She signalled to Jem who nodded that he had understood.

“Take the one on the left,” he whispered. “I’ll pull the one on the right outside. There’s not space for both of us in there.”

Trine nodded.

The next minute or so was a blur. With superhuman speed, Trine entered the tent in the same moment that Jem whipped the second sleeping occupant outside. As soon as the person’s head was out of the tent, he bit into their neck deeply, not caring if the person was male or female. The first taste of human blood was enough to spur him on to drink thirstily. Inside the tent, Trine was feeding on the other unsuspecting occupant. Neither of the sleeping hillwalkers had had time to utter a sound.

“We need to dispose of the bodies,” said Trine when she crawled out of the tent a few moments later.

“Let me put this guy back in,” said Jem. “Then I’ll find their camping stove.”

“Why?”

“We need to burn the bodies. It’s safer that way,” stated Jem, trying to detach himself from the revulsion he was already feeling. “I’ll light the stove. Let the flame touch the sleeping bags and then it will all take care of itself.”

Flames were licking at the sides of the tent as Jem wrapped his wings around Trine to transport them both home. Focusing on the journey, he tried to quell the burning thirst that was raging deep inside his core. A thirst he knew he needed to resist.

Silently Watching Under A Full Corn Moon

With the last light of day glowing behind the hills across the river, Jem stood on the beach staring at the beach hut. It still looked the same from the outside. There was nothing different about it as far as he could tell. No one passing by on the coastal path would realise how drastically it had been altered.

Before they had left the castle following the conclusion of the dark angel’s trial, he has mentioned to Jai that there wasn’t much space in their much-loved beach home for the baby.

“I can help with that,” Jai had promised. “Allow me to go home to my family for two months then I will visit you and show you how to make your beach hut a beach palace.”

At first Jem had been sceptical about the vampire’s promise but Meryn had explained to him that Jai’s gift lay in extending spaces. She described it as an ancient form of earth magic.

True to his word, Jai had arrived a week before July’s full Sturgeon moon, bearing gifts from his Indian family for the baby. Having surveyed the hut and the geology around it, he declared that the rock bed was suitable to extend the hut down into the earth without making any changed to the current exterior or destabilising the structure. The three vampires consulted at great length long into the night before it was agreed that Jai would create a staircase down from Trine’s old bedroom and create three new underground rooms. When Jem had offered to help, Jai had politely declined.

“This magic is sacred to my family,” the Indian vampire had explained. “I need to work alone. Once I have the tunnel started, you must seal the entrance until I return to the surface.”

“Jai!” Trine had protested. “That sounds barbaric even for vampires. I am not sealing you under our house. We’ll lock the door to the room. Will that be enough?”

Reluctantly he had agreed.

“This will take me one month,” he stated as he’d entered the room. The small Indian vampire closed the door before either of them could ask him any further questions.

Over the next five weeks, Trine and Jem heard the occasional rumble of rocks moving but otherwise were oblivious to the changes going on under their feet.

By the time Jai returned to the surface, there were only four weeks left until the baby was due to arrive. Pregnancy suited Trine. With Meryn’s help, the ice maiden had devised a way to get all the vitamins and nutrients that she needed to support her body to carry the baby. Blood alone was not sufficient to nurture the unborn child. Much to Jem’s amusement, Trine developed a more human pregnancy craving in the latter few months of her pregnancy. She was craving ice cream.

The night that Jai finally emerged from behind the locked door, Jem had just returned to the hut with two tubs of cookie dough ice cream that he’d acquired after hours from the local supermarket. He was scooping some into a bowl for Trine when the door creaked open.

“Jesus!” yelped Jem, dropping the spoon he was holding into the bowl with a clatter. “You scared the crap out of me, Jai!”

“My most humble apologies,” said the small Indian vampire with a deep bow. “My work is done. May I show you the new rooms then I must return to my family tonight.”

Awkwardly Trine got to her feet, wincing as the baby kicked her ribs sharply.

“Lead the way,” she said as she smoothed her loose blue dress over her large bump.

Abandoning the ice cream for the moment, Jem followed them into what had been the been Trine’s bedroom. A staircase spiralled down in one corner of the room. In lieu of a handrail, tick rope had been draped against one wall as the steps curled down to the beach hut’s new lower level. With Jai leading the way, the three vampires descended the staircase to the square hallway at the bottom which had three doors opening off from it.

“Allow me,” said Jai, opening the left-hand door. “I’ve left décor and furnishings up to you but each of these rooms is large enough to be a bedroom or if need be, a sitting room or a suite of rooms. They are all interconnected from within the rooms too.”

“How?” gasped Trine, her eyes wide with wonder at the subterranean transformation of their home.

“Trade secret,” said Jai with a wink. “Jem, if you would like assistance to decorate the room I could come back in a few more weeks.”

Shaking his head, Jem replied, “Thanks but I know how to drive a paint roller.” He paused, looking round the first room. “This is awesome. How did you remove the rock and dirt? You never came out the entire time you were down here.”

“Magic,” answered the Indian vampire. “I cannot disclose our secrets. You would need to be part of my family before I could consider revealing that.”

As they moved into the second, more rectangular room, Trine declared, “I have no idea how you did this, Jai, but it’s fantastic. So much space! I love it!”

“Happy to have helped, my dear,” he said with a formal bow. “In winter, these rooms will be warm. In summer, they will be cool. There’s a climate enchantment in place.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” gushed Trine. “Thank you!”

“This is amazing, Jai,” compliments Jem. “Thank you doesn’t seem enough.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” assured Jai warmly. “Now I must take my leave. I have been separated from my family for too long.”

After the Indian vampire had departed, Trine and Jem sat discussing how they were going to decorate and furnish their three new rooms. As Trine devoured her ice cream, they debated colours, eventually agreeing on a pale neutral colour palette for the walls. Jai had already laid beautiful wood floors throughout the lower level that would tone in with any colour choice.

“Been a while since I’ve done any painting,” mused Jem, thinking back to his previous life and the hour spent decorating his family’s home back then. “Actually kind of looking forward to it.”

“How long will it take?”

“A few days. A week tops.”

“What about furniture?” asked Trine, licking the last drops of her ice cream from the spoon.

“I can transport some from my old house or we can get new stuff. Up to you.”

“I’ll have a think,” promised Trine, wriggling into a better position in the chair.” Your little princess is restless.”

“Probably a sugar high from all that ice cream,” he teased with a smile. “Won’t be long til she’s here. We still need to stock up on baby supplies too.”

“I’ll make a list,” said Trine. “Meryn said she’d bring some essentials. She’s arriving next week.”

“Guess I’d better decorate a room for her,” laughed Jem, appreciating the human normality of it all.

A soft noise on the shingle behind him brought Jem back to the present. He didn’t need to turn around to know that his mother had arrived.

“Still looks the same,” Meryn commented as she came to stand beside him.

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Jem with a lazy grin. “Jai has worked miracles with the place. Wait til you see inside.”

“I’m sure he has,” agreed his mother warmly. “And how’s our mother -to-be?”

“Fine, I guess. Getting bigger by the day.”

“Has she been able to hunt?” quizzed Meryn.

“Not for a few days. She said she felt too heavy for it. I think she’s worried that she accidentally hurts the baby.”

“Then you’ll need to hunt for her,” stated Meryn plainly. “She’s going to need all of her strength. Ideally, she needs fresh blood daily until the baby arrives. You’ll need to keep the blood warm for her to ensure its at its best.”

Jem nodded, “How hard is this going to be for her? One of my other children was a C-section. I’m guessing that’s not an option here.”

“It’s a last resort,” admitted Meryn. “Any birth takes effort. They don’t call it labour for nothing, but Trine is young and healthy. Vampire labours are different to most human labours. They tend to be short and intense.”

“How short?”

“Less than three hours. I’ve only attended a handful. Vampire babies are rare creatures.”

“But she’ll be ok, won’t she?”

“I’ll take good care of her. Of both of them,” promised Meryn, trying to sound reassuring. “Now, are you going to help me inside with these boxes?”

Turning round, Jem noticed a pile of boxes and a wicker moses basket sitting on the beach behind them.

When they entered the beach hut, Trine was sitting crocheting a tiny white baby bootee. She set her work aside and struggled to her feet to greet the senior vampiress. Her baby bump made their embrace awkward, but she twisted to the side to wrap her arms around Meryn.

“Someone’s blooming,” complimented Meryn with a smile. “That bump looks lowers. I’m not sure that you have much longer to go, my dear.”

“It feels different today,” admitted Trine, resting her hand on her swollen abdomen. “The baby’s seemed restless too. Lots of movement.”

“Baby knows what she needs to do,” assured the older woman warmly. “Your job is to help her.”

Behind them, Jem had brought in the pile of supplies that his mother had brought with her.

“Jeremiah, pass me that brown leather bag, please,” said Meryn. “The rest, apart from the square box, can go in the nursery.”

“Meryn, have you brought an entire baby department’s worth with you?” giggled Trine when she saw the pile of boxes.

“Only essentials to see you through the first six weeks,” replied Meryn. “Now, let’s get you into the bedroom so that I can check you over. Jeremiah, remember what I said about blood. There’s collecting flasks in the green box. Can you fill them for me, please?”

“Any preference of source?”

“Something rich. Deer would be ideal.”

“Leave it with me.”

Lightly Jem touched down in the shadows beside an empty factory unit a few miles to the east of the beach. He hadn’t wanted to stray far, and he was confident that he would find deer in the woodland that bordered the factory’s deserted carpark. Scanning the treeline, he watched and waited, sensing that there were deer close by. Sure enough a couple of minutes later, two young bucks sauntered out of the trees onto the grassy embankment in front of the building. Before either of them picked up on his scent, Jem swooped in killing them both. Fighting back his burning hunger to feed, he filled the four flasks that he had brought, tucked them inside his shirt and then turned his attention to the second deer.  Already the blood was cooling but he drank eagerly, feeling the blood’s richness filling his veins. Once his hunger was satiated, Jem took care to hide the carcasses in the undergrowth near the road. If anyone found them, they would assume that the animals had been struck by a car or a delivery truck.

Just as he was checking that the flasks were secure before he headed for home, something caught Jem’s attention. It was faint but just as had happened months earlier back at the castle, he heard a whisper of a voice pleading for his help.

“Anna?” he thought as he focused on the voice.

“Help me, Son of Perran.”

The cry was barely audible, but it was there and there was no doubt in his mind that the voice belonged to the dark angel. The question was how… how as she reaching him when her magic was bound? Shaking his head as if to rid himself of the voice, Jem spread his majestic wings and soared soundlessly into the night.

The moon had fully risen by the time he touched down in the shadows on the shore cast by the beach hut. Glancing up, he noted that the moon was almost full. When he entered the hut, both vampiresses were sitting crocheting by the fire.

“Perfect timing,” declared his mother. “Fill Trine’s glass before that blood cools.”

“A fine vintage it is too, if I may say so myself,” he joked as he emptied the first flask into the large crystal goblet. “It’s limited to four flasks. I advise you to enjoy them while they are fresh.”

“Not all of them,” interrupted Meryn. “I need to keep two aside.” She held out her hands and accepted the flasks from her son. “Excuse me while I go downstairs to keep these warm.”

Jem stared after his mother as she disappeared downstairs.

“Best not to ask,” said Trine softly.

“I won’t,” he replied, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“Meryn thinks the baby will come in the next day or two.”

“I thought there were still a couple of weeks to go?”

Trine shook her head, “Apparently not.”

Looking deep in thought, Jem pulled over a stool and sat gazing into the flames in the woodburning stove.

“Jem,” prompted Trine softly, “You look worried. What’s wrong? Did something happen out there?”

Deciding against mentioning hearing Anna’s pleas for help, he replied, “Was just thinking about my kids. Thinking about their births….”

“You must still miss them.”

He nodded, “They’re adults with kids of their own now.”

“Do you ever….” Her words faltered on her lips.

“Only my daughter lives near here,” he revealed. “I’ve seen her twice from a distance since…well…you know.”

“You’re allowed to miss them, and you’re allowed to talk about them.”

“It’s easier if I don’t,” he stated without lifting his gaze from the dancing flames. “Better they believe I’m still missing. They must assume that I’m dead by now.”

Reaching out to touch his slender shoulder, Trine said, “You’re going to be the best father to our little princess.”

Two nights later as the full moon rose, Trine let out a sharp gasp as she rose from her seat by the fire. Grabbing at her rock-hard bulging belly, she flashed a panicked look across to Meryn.

Calmly the older woman got to her feet and said simply, “It’s time.”

Trine nodded.

“Help me to get her downstairs,” she instructed Jem.

“I can manage,” protested Trine, hating being fussed over.

“If you’re sure, my dear,” agreed Meryn. “Take it slowly. If you feel another contraction building, stop and let it pass.”

Trine nodded as she headed for the staircase.

“What can I do?” asked Jem, looking almost as scared as his partner.

“Wait there,” said his mother bluntly. “I’ll call you if I need you.”

“I want Jem with me,” called back Trine.

“Let me get you settled, my dear, then he can come down,” compromised Meryn following the younger woman down the spiral stairs.

Alone in the living room, Jem began to pace nervously. What if this all went horribly wrong? Vampire births were dangerous. What if Trine died in labour?  What if he lost them both? He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. In his heart, he knew Trine was in the best hands.

“Jeremiah!”

His mother’s voice rang out clearly from the foot of the staircase. Within seconds, he was standing beside her.

“Is everything ok?”

“Everything’s fine,” she assured him. “You must promise though to do exactly as I say once we are in the birthing room. No questions. No debate.”

He nodded.

“Your primary role is to keep Trine calm.”

Again, he nodded.

Inside the smallest of the three new rooms, Trine had changed into loos shift nightgown and was standing leaning against the wall, as a fresh contraction ripped through her.

“Don’t fight it,” coached Meryn, rubbing Trine’s lower back. “Let gravity help here.”

“I’m trying,” gasped Trine.

“You’re doing fine,” assured Meryn, signalling to Jem to step forward. “Why not lean on Jeremiah for support? Put your arms over his shoulders and allow him to take some of your weight.”

Three more strong contractions tore through Trine in quick succession as she clung onto Jem. Following his mother’s lead, he praised his partner and rubbed her back as he nuzzled nose into her neck whispering that he loved her.

“I need to push,” groaned Trine as the next contraction began to build rapidly.

“Let this one pass then I’ll check for baby’s head,” said Meryn, reaching for a bottle of hand sanitiser. “The longer you can stay on your feet, the easier this will be.”

“Easy!” yelled Trine, her blue eyes blazing with anger. “There’s nothing easy about this!”

“I know, my dear,” soothed the older woman as the next contraction held Trine in its iron grip. “Jem, hold her, while I take a look.”

Lifting the hem of Trine’s nightgown, Meryn reached underneath to check the baby’s progress. She gauged that she wasn’t as fully dilated as she had hoped. As yet, Trine’s waters hadn’t broken, and the older woman sensed that might be slowing things down. Muttering a quick spell as the contraction peaked, Meryn initiated the membranes’ rupture. A flood of dark liquid flowed down Trine’s pale legs fresh blood streaked among it.

“Lift her onto the bed,” snapped Meryn, her concern clear from her tone.

“Meryn!” pleaded Trine as Jem laid her down on the bed, propping her up on the pile of pillows.

“it’s fine. Baby’s just a little distressed. Settle back and let me take a closer look.”

The baby’s head was crowning when Meryn checked, much to her relief. Gently, she applied some herb infused oil to encourage Trine’s body to relax and stretch to accommodate the baby’s head.

“On the next contraction, bear down hard,” Meryn instructed as she lay her hands on top of Trine’s stomach.

Trine could only nod as she felt the pressure build rapidly. She reached out for Jem’s hand, crushing his fingers as she pushed as hard as she could. With barely a moment to take a breath, another contraction gripped her.

“Push as hard as you can, my dear,” encouraged Meryn, keeping her hands on the young woman’s taut belly. “Keep pushing.”

Gasping, Trine collapsed back onto the pillows.

“Baby’s head is almost out,” reported Meryn. “Another big push and that’ll be the hard part over.”

“I can’t,” wailed Trine.

“You can and you will!” stated Meryn firmly. “As soon as that contraction builds, push with all you’ve got, girl.”

Stunned into silence, feeling utterly useless, all Jem could do was Trine’s hand and watch.

“Push!” commanded Meryn sharply.

A scream tore from Trine’s throat as she pushed with the last of her remaining energy.

“Head’s out.”

Swiftly, Meryn worked to untangle the umbilical cord from round the baby’s neck before Trine instinctively pushed again. One final push and the baby slid out into Meryn’s arms with a soft whimper.

“You have a beautiful baby daughter.”

Before either of them could reply, the baby began to wail, her piercing cries suggesting she was hungry. Gently, Meryn laid her on Trine’s stomach then turned to her son.

“Do you want to cut the cord?”

Numbly he nodded as he accepted the surgical scissors from his mother. With a trembling hand, he cut through the touch knotty cord then watched as Meryn tied it off and smothered it in a paste. Wrapping the baby tightly in a soft blanket, she handed her to him.

“Meet your daughter, Jeremiah,” she said smiling proudly at him before turning her attention back to Trine.

The new mother lay propped up on the pillows totally exhausted. Her naturally pale skin was almost as white as the cotton pillowcase.

“Trine, my dear,” began Meryn. “We need to deliver the placenta now.”

“I can’t.”

“Let me massage your belly to encourage a contraction then give me one more push. The best push you can,” requested Meryn, her strong hands already working the flaccid skin of Trine’s belly.

“Pain….” gasped Trine, arching her back. “Pain!”

“Damn it,” muttered Meryn. “Jem, out the baby down. I need your help here now.”

On the bed in front of them it was clear that Trine was losing a lot of blood.

“What do I do?” he asked, eyes wide in horror at the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Stem the flow with this,” instructed Meryn, passing him a clean towel. “I need to get the placenta delivered. We need the blood from it for the baby then I can use magic to heal Trine.”

Doing as he was told, Jem held the towel in place, pressing firmly praying it was enough to stem the flow of blood.

“Step aside,” ordered his mother sharply as she pushed her way in. “Trine, one push. Just one.”

With a groan, the exhausted ice maiden used the last of her strength to push as the older vampiress guided the placenta free. She bundled it into a bowl then immediately turned her attention back to Trine. Muttering incantations in a language that Jem had never heard before, Meryn worked hard to stop the haemorrhaging.

“Mother?” Jem began softly gazing at his seemingly lifeless partner lying on the bed.

“She’s sleeping,” she assured him. “We’re not out of the woods yet but I’m confident she’ll be ok.”

“So much blood….”

Meryn nodded, “Too much.” She picked up the dish holding the placenta then used a large syringe to draw all the blood from it.

Jeremiah, pass me the baby… unless you would like to do this?”

Slipping a rubber teat over the end of the syringe where the needle had been moments before, Meryn handed it to him, “Let her feed. Don’t let her suckle too fast. She needs to take all of that slowly and steadily.”

“Don’t babies drink milk?” he asked looking bemused.

“They do but vampire babies need the blood from their placenta as a first feed. It strengthens the bond with the mother among other things.”

“What other things?”

“Vital nutrients. Antibodies,” Meryn paused. “Humans could do well to learn from our practices.”

In his arms, the baby sucked hard on the teat. Her eyes were closed as she drank thirstily. Marvelling at her perfection, Jem watched her rosebud moth suckling hungrily. Her long eyelashes were dark as were her tiny eyebrows. There was a light covering of dark hair on her head that was just visible under the folds of the blanket.

“Did you feed me your placenta blood?” he asked curiously.

“I did but I never told your father,” Meryn revealed quietly.

The second that the last drop 0f blood left the teat the baby’s eyes flew open. She gazed up at Jem with her mother’s blue eyes.

“All done,” he said softly, easing the teat from her mouth.

Behind him, he was aware of Meryn working on Trine and could sense magic in the air.

Objecting to her feed being over, the baby began to cry.

“Jem, the deer blood is in that wooden box,” said his mother, pointing to the corner of the room. “Be careful, the box is hot.”

“What do I do?”

“Take out one bottle. There’s a teat on it already. Let her feed,” instructed Meryn. “It’ll be a few hours before she can get a milk feed from her mother.”

“Is she ok?”

“For now,” replied Meryn. “The bleeding has stopped. I need to keep an eye on any signs of infections. The next day or so will be crucial here but I’m hopeful. I’ve given her something to make her sleep. Rest is as good a healer as any magic at this point.”

“I can’t lose her….”

“I know, son. I know,” nodded his mother. “Let the little one feed then we’ll bathe her and get her dressed properly.”

While Meryn bathed the baby, Jem sat holding Trine’s hand, running his thumb over her cold skin.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Wait til you hold her. She’s perfect.”

The ice maiden stirred. Her eyelids flickered,

“Rest. Meryn’s given you something to help you sleep.”

He watched as Trine’s eyelids flickered again and her lips moved as she tried to speak. Despite his vampire hearing Jem didn’t catch what she said. He leaned in closer as Trine repeated one word, “Luna.”

“Are you trying to tell me her name is Luna?”

He felt Trine weakly squeeze his hand.

“Luna,” he repeated. “I like that. Simple.” He paused, “And I know what to do.”

It was a still clear night with dawn still an hour or so off. The full moon was casting a shimmering trail of light across the river when Jem stepped outside holding his baby daughter in his arms. Carefully he carried her down the stone steps onto the beach then made his way down to the water’s edge. Standing in the full moon’s light, Jem gently peel back the soft white blanket and let the moonlight bathe his tiny daughter.

“Welcome to the world, Luna.”

In her cramped cell in Level Zero, the dark angel sat on the edge of her narrow cot bed visualising the full moon that she knew had risen above the castle. She felt a shift in her senses. Her connection to the runner was fragile but it was still there despite the bind on her magic. In her mind’s eye, Anna saw him present his newborn daughter to the moon. The dark angel smiled to herself, secure in the knowledge that there was still a glimmer of hope.