Fortier: Blood and Moon

Danger

“We are planning to launch an attack on the Bertrams only. You remember them, do you not? Your sworn enemies?” he said, before he gently stroked his white beard. He was an old fragile man, but that was normal. Vampires do age, after all; it just affects us really slowly, even though it does not kill us.

“I do. Lychas was kind enough to invite me to his home.”

“I'd expect no less from that viper. Whatever lies he fed you, you must now cast aside. You brought a precious gift to us after all,” he said. Did he sense that I brought someone to the house? Just how exactly did he know?

“What?” He said before he took a pause and sneered at me. “You thought I wouldn't recognize the smell of a Bertram right in my house?”

“None of you will lay a hand on her,” I said. I didn't break eye contact with him. Needless to say, he was quite taken back by my words.

“Did you just threaten your old man, you spoiled brat?” he said. He began to frown; he wasn't used to being questioned or told he cannot do something. That was the true extent of his powers. None would dare to tell him no, save for me. “Don't answer that,” he said, before he broke the eye contact.

“Well, regardless of what you plan to do with her, now that you're here, we are going to attack at daybreak. Their spirit is weak, as is their moral. My son . . . the Fortier,” he said as his face wore a smile. Was he actually proud of me? No, that cannot be. My father is the type that he would be more than happy to simply use the title of his son to threaten his enemies.

“You know, Lychas invited me to his home to offer peace,” I said, knowing that my father would never trust a Bertram. Hell, I wasn't even sure if I believed it myself.

“Peace?” he said in a bitter tone. I could see his face turn bright red with fury, yet his fingers were ice cold. “Do you think a Bertram would honor such things as treaties?”

“It's different this time.”

“Different? Just how exactly?”

“He offered me to marry his daughter. He wants to unite our houses to end the confl--”

I was interrupted, as he rolled both of his hands into fists and drove them at the edge of the chair. “Marriage? You f*****g i***t,” he shouted as he began to pant heavily. “And what did you say?” he added.

“I said no. But based on your reaction right now, I am tempted to change my mind.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Alfred. You're not marrying into that shithole of a family. This ends in blood,” he said as a little spit came out of his mouth. His nails went deep into his palms at his point, and they were dripping blood like it was an open tap of water. You would think that being the Fortier would grant me a bit of respect with my old man.

“Father, I never judged you, nor did have I ever dared to disrespect you in any way. But your method is wrong--”

“Wrong? Do you hear yourself, child? Have you so forgotten what they did?” he said, as he squinted his eyes at me hard. It sent a shiver down my spine, as his tone became broken and slurry. Peace meant defeat for him for some twisted reason. But that thirst for blood will do no one any good; it is bound to result in our destruction.

“That was over a century ago, father. Why can you not understand that revenge does not work . . . There are other methods to deal with the tragedies of the past.”

“It does. Revenge has always been our way.”

“Then our way is wrong.”

“An eye for an eye, Alfred. I will hear no more of this.” He took a deep breath and gathered whatever he could to calm his nerves. The man was shaking.

“Then the world will be blind, and you will swim in that shadow pit of death that you've so elegantly tailored. Is that truly what you wish?”

“Yes. So be it. The world can go f**k itself for all I care,” he replied in a cold manner. Not a shred of emotion was carried in his words.

“Mad man, you're a mad man.”

“Alfred, you are my son,” he shouted at me yet again.

“I will not partake in this. You've managed to do just fine without me all these years anyway. Make do,” I said before I turned my back to him and walked towards the very door I used to step inside. He was a lost cause. Peace would never spring with him alive, after all.

“f**k you, you arrogant little punk of a child! You even sound like those Bertrams! They've managed to get to you!” he said, as he pushed the chair with his body and stood up.

“No they haven't. And father?” I said before I turned around once more to look at the reason I am alive. Never have thought that this day would come. “You would do well to weigh your words carefully against me. You are a monster, but I am your son, nonetheless, and I am the Fortier.”

“Have you lost your damn mind? You dare threaten your own father? Get out of my house. You are no son of mine, you hear me! f**k you!” he shouted. The rampage of a foolish old man, drunk with his thirst for blood. The only reason he draws breath is solely due to him being my father . . . but that will only protect him for so long.