The Unforgiven

Note:  Text enclosed in <   > represents thoughts or feelings. 

Wednesday, May 8, 2019 
Two hours before sunrise 
Guillaume's bedroom

 "So what happened next?"

 Guillaume paused for a suitable length of time.  He was expected to protest here. "You must have heard this story a hundred times by now," he demurred, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.  The elder vampire did as he was expected.  After all, who was he to argue with Tradition.?  Tradition was what had held the alliance between Kindred and their human descendants together for six hundred plus years.  The observance of Tradition was the governance and the binding fabric of their culture.

 Guillaume was telling the tale of the Family's origins: of atrocities committed by his sire, Gilles de Laval; of the alliance forged between himself and a village of humans; of their triumph over their common foe.  During the six hundred years that he'd recited this tale, a storytelling tradition had grown up around it.  It was both their history and folklore.  The few times that he'd dared experiment with the manner in which it was told, had disappointed or upset the children who were usually his audience.  He'd long since given up on changing or altering the story for the sake of variety, if not accuracy.  It was a lost cause.

 Jenna, Beth's youngest daughter and Willow's baby sister, bounced up and down on the mattress.  She sat cross-legged next to him.  She was totally unselfconscious of her nudity, and Guillaume couldn't help but admire her beauty.  His gaze possessively skimmed over the small puncture wounds marring the neck of his lover.  He admired the long, elegant line of her throat while his hand wandered up and down the gentle curve of her side from hip to shoulder.  He dragged his fingertips, allowing his nails to trace delicate patterns over her sensitive flesh.  She giggled softly and arched into his touch, casting a curtain of burgundy silk over her shoulder.  Jenna's lips curved seductively as she smiled at the ancient vampire.

 Guillaume lounged upon his side, naked from the waist up.  A white linen sheet made from the finest Egyptian cotton was draped haphazardly over his hip.  Behind Jenna he could see the sky beginning to brighten as dawn approached from the east.  His penthouse apartment's entire external wall was composed of tinted glass that the harmful elements of the sun could not penetrate.  It allowed an unobstructed view of the daylight world and the panoramic scenery of the Boston skyline.

 "I LOVE this part!" she exclaimed with a breathy sigh, her lips still showing signs of the ruby lipstick that marked the places on Guillaume's body her lips had caressed.  He knew her child-like wonder to be contrived, but he enjoyed the attention anyway.  Jenna knew how to pander to his ego.

 "Gilles then ordered infants to be taken from the village.  Four of them were brought to the castle.  The villagers were furious, and they formed a riotous mob and lit torches.  There was much yelling as they worked themselves into a furor."  He paused again.

 "Why were they yelling?"  She interrupted, as he'd expected.

 "Because, Cherie," he murmured with a fond smile.  Guillaume reached over to tuck a stray lock of burgundy hair behind her ear.  "Peasants often lack the courage and initiative to attack as individuals.  It takes a great deal of yelling to muster sufficient courage to storm a Lord's castle, let alone the keep of a demon."

 "So what did you do?"

 "I advised Gilles to give the infants back.  Not only was it foolish to dine on children-they hardly make a suitable meal, being far too small," he paused briefly as Jenna giggled and bounced again.  Her breasts jiggled delightfully.  "But his actions were dishonorable.  Those villagers were his vassals.  He had a duty to protect them and they to serve him.  He violated his oath as their Lord with his actions."

 "Did he not listen to you?"

 "Mon Dieu," Guillaume shook his head sadly.  "He did not."

 "What happened then?" she prodded.  The elder vampire knew that the young woman knew this story by heart.  The telling pleased her, though, so he indulged her whim.  There was very little he would not have done to please his pet.

 "I saw his foolishness and his dishonor.  It was the final straw.  Even though my own actions meant breaking my oath to my Lord and my sire, I considered the weight of his error and the evil of what he had allowed himself to become.  He'd given the demon such power over himself that he'd become its servant.  In many ways, he was no longer my lord.  Though it grieved me to do so, I made my decision to betray him.  Right after sunset, and before Gilles arose, I took the three remaining children and walked into the village alone and unarmed."

 While he spoke she held in her breath, not wanting to risk the sound of her own breathing to cause her to miss some part of the story.  Guillaume absently began to count her heartbeats as he continued.  Ten.twenty.thirty. 

 "This was before you'd mastered the flames, wasn't it?"  Her breathing resumed.

 "Yes.  I was but a fledgling, less than six months of age since my embrace."

 "It was a very brave thing to do!"

 He chuckled.  "It was very foolish."  Jenna's eyes were full of awed admiration.  She clearly thought him a hero, but never would have dreamed of contradicting him to say so.  Guillaume relaxed further, warming to the tale.  If all young women in this day and age were like Jenna and knew how to properly treat a man, he'd have been content to tell stories for the rest of eternity.  Alas, such was not the case.

 "The villagers were upset.  They wished to destroy me, but they were afraid." 

 "Even after I returned the children, they did not wish to listen to what I had to say.  They would have set fire to me but for an old woman who interceded upon my behalf.  She was a village elder, ancient in her years, and greatly feared and respected for her powers.  It was whispered that she practiced witchcraft and worshipped the devil.  However, she possessed the gift of second sight and was a talented healer.  She convinced the mob to let me speak and swore that she could tell if I told the truth.  To prove myself, I was forced to allow her to read my thoughts.  It did not please me to do so, but I wished to live." 

 Guillaume stuck to the abbreviated version of the tale, as the full one was much too long. Quite an oral Tradition had sprung up about the original story.  It had grown into Clan legend and remained a valuable tool for teaching the Clan's history, culture, and values to the children at Family gatherings.  A complete and proper telling included burning torches and an unruly mob, and involved a full reenactment of his conversation with that old wise woman.  The Family Matriarch always played the wise woman and Guillaume played himself.

 Jenna nodded enthusiastically.  Wishing to live was perfectly reasonable.  Guillaume thought so also.  He'd possessed strong survival instincts as a mortal and, if anything, they had only grown stronger with each passing year of his long, long life.  "What was her name?"

 "She was the Widow Margery Mary de Laval."  His eyes drifted away from Jenna, slipping back to a vision six hundred years past.  He remembered a strong, proud woman who'd been handsome in her youth and a force to be reckoned with in her twilight.  "She was an amazing woman."

 "My ancestress," Jenna noted proudly.

 "Yes," he confirmed and smiled indulgently.  "After she completed the mind scan and confirmed that I spoke the truth, I led the villagers against Gilles and his minions.  We prevailed, and an alliance was forged between my kind and yours that has lasted for over six hundred years.  A Covenant was made that Kindred would protect by night and humans by day.  I became the head of the Family and Margery became the First Matriarch.  She did not live long and the title soon passed to her daughter.  Eventually, her descendants and mine intermarried, creating your bloodline."

 As Beth's only fertile daughter, Jenna was heir apparent to the position of Family Matriarch. She, Beth, and Willow were the only three surviving members of his deceased wife's bloodline.  Since neither Beth nor Willow could have children, Jenna was Guillaume's only hope of seeing the lineage continue. Unfortunately, those with the gifts of second sight and mind reading were usually prone to insanity and instability.  This branch of the Family was extremely important to him, as this bloodline had produced the most talented and sanest of the Family's telepaths and psychics. 

 Jenna possessed only very weak telepathic ability and occasionally saw visions.  She could read emotions and some surface thoughts, but was not capable of deep mind scans.  However, she carried the all of the important genes, and her unborn children held the hope and promise of the Clan's future prosperity.  The Family's well being always remained Guillaume's first and foremost concern. 

 Ever sensitive to his moods, Jenna remained patiently silent as he indulged in reverie.  A half-hour passed before she spoke again, "Dawn's coming."  She sighed with regret.  Soon their time together would be over.  When the sun rose, Guillaume would either retreat to his study, or retire for the day, and she would head for class at the University.  The young woman knew that Guillaume was not hers forever, but only for a year, so she begrudged every moment spent apart from him.

 Every year the eligible young women of the Family competed for his attention throughout the season.  They courted him and chased him.  Every year he took only one to his bed.  She remained his consort for the remainder of the year, until the game began again the next spring.  The contest amused Guillaume and the "winner" benefited greatly in terms of power, money, and prestige.  He always took good care of his lovers. 

 This year was different.  Jenna was not in his bed because of anything he could give her.  She didn't need money, favors, or power.  All of those things were already hers.  Jenna was here because she wanted to be and he valued that knowledge a great deal.  Their time together actually meant something and they shared a real relationship founded in intimacy and trust, if not love.

 She frowned.  "I miss you during the day," she pouted.  Her petite mouth turned down unhappily.  Guillaume chuckled and denied the urge to take that pouting lower lip between his teeth. 

 Ah, Jenna knew how to manipulate a man.  She was nothing at all like Willow, whom Guillaume had never enjoyed the pleasure of bedding.  Perhaps Jenna could even be called spoiled, but he really had no one but himself to blame.  He'd doted on the girl since her birth, indulging her whims for the pleasure of her smile.  He knew her to be self-absorbed, more so than the future Family Matriarch should be, but in the end her intelligence and natural cunning would make her an excellent leader.  She was more like him than she knew.

 Abruptly, Jenna changed the subject.  "I hear that there is a Slayer in town," she observed, watching him intently.  "Most of the other elders have left Boston.  The Family is concerned that you are still here."

 "The girl is a child, not Buffy Summers," he dismissed her concern.  She arched a skeptical eyebrow at him and he returned the gesture by raising both of his own.  "I *can* take care of myself."

 "If you say so, milord."

 He sighed.  "What else is the Family saying?" he asked, changing the subject again.  He didn't wish to dwell upon the Slayer at the moment.  The Family's fragile alliance with the Slayer and the Watchers already occupied far too much of his 'working' time. .  He didn't wish to have them invade his leisure time as well.  Their alliance was always precariously balanced upon the brink of bloodshed.  Vampires simply didn't work well with the Watchers and the Slayer, and vice versa.  It was a violation of the natural order of things.  Only the combination of Willow and Guillaume's strong leadership kept the peace.

 "They say that Angelus is in town?"  The question mark implicit within the observation indicated that she expected Guillaume to know much more than she did.  She was correct.  Guillaume nodded and concealed his displeasure.

 "That much is true," he agreed and said nothing more.  Disappointment clouded Jenna's expression.  She'd been hoping to garner some juicy tidbit of gossip from him.  Guillaume was sorry to disappoint her, but this time the topic was much too sensitive. 

 A wordless exchange passed between them.  His manner informed her that this was not a topic to be gossiped about; she acknowledged and acquiesced to his wishes with an obedient nod.  Jenna loved to gossip and flirt, but she also knew how to exercise discretion and to keep her lips sealed when necessary.  He trusted her with all but the deepest of his secrets.  Guillaume's relationship with Beth was the same, only deeper.  In time, his intimacy with Jenna would deepen.  Beth could only live perhaps another forty years before her time came.

 Ice blue eyes considered the young woman carefully.  She looked a lot like her sister, but lacked Willow's innocence.  Jenna was a sexual being.  Guillaume would have quantified her inherent sensuality as nothing short of a physical force.  Additionally, Jenna's complexion was so pale that she could have passed for Kindred.  She avoided the sun with the same fastidious care that any vampire did.  "Sunlight ages the skin and causes freckles," he'd heard her complain upon more than one occasion.  "Once I become Kindred I have no intention of spending eternity with a face full of freckles."

 "When will you embrace me?" she asked out of the blue.  "I'm going to be an old woman when you finally get around to turning me!" she complained.  Guillaume refocused upon her and immediately tightened his mental shields.  Her question couldn't have been a coincidence; he must have been broadcasting his thoughts loud enough to be heard. 

 "You know the rules," he replied, pointedly glancing towards her stomach.  "You've produced no children and you're already twenty-one."

 "I don't want to ruin my figure!" she protested with a sulky frown.

 "I won't embrace you until you've produced an heir," he responded, ignoring her pleading pout.  His gaze and tone became a stern reprimand.  "Your lineage cannot be sacrificed merely because you won't risk your waist line." 

 "Humf!"  Her frown became more broody. 

 "There are certain benefits to childbirth," he observed, attempting to offer an olive branch.  He didn't wish to reprimand Jenna too harshly but neither would he tolerate having his authority questioned.  His gaze shifted to her small, though fine, bosom.  Personally, Guillaume had always preferred considerably more cleavage on his lovers.  He often found that the medieval ideal of ample bosom and hips that he preferred was not easy to fulfill in this era of starving waifs.  His unconscious sigh was soft with regret.

 "You've broken the rules for others," she complained.  "I know for a fact that you've made repeated exceptions for Angelus."

 Guillaume's jaw tightened and displeasure hardened his ice blue eyes.  "What I do is for the good of the Clan.  Do you question my judgment or my authority?"

 Jenna had the good sense to retreat before she crossed the line.  Her manner shifted with mercurial swiftness from petulant to contrived innocence.  "Not *I*, milord," she drawled with a conciliatory smile.  "Others might but not I."

 "Others do," he agreed.  "But never to my face."

 Her smile became impertinent and sly.  "That is because they desire their faces to remain intact." 

 He did not reply, but acknowledged the truth of her words with his own grin.  No further words were spoken and the tension quickly passed.  Guillaume could not bring himself to stay mad at his darling for very long.  She was his pet.

 Finally, she sighed.  "Well," she murmured with regret.  "I have class in an hour."  She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and then crawled from the bed, leaving him with a clear view of her heart-shaped bottom and graceful spine as she bent to reach for her robe.  "Will I see you tonight?"

 "No, not tonight."  His voice darkened mournfully while his eyes filled with irony.  "Tomorrow.  Tonight I am expecting Angelus himself to honor me with a visit."  She glanced back and he met her gaze, making it clear that he'd rather have spent the evening in her divine company than with his troublemaking Grand Childe. 

 Angelus.  Now, *there* was a brat who never failed to annoy him.  Angelus always caused Guillaume untold amounts of heartache and headache.  He was difficult to manipulate and nearly impossible to control.  The ancient vampire would have destroyed the insolent whelp a hundred years ago if he were not so vital to Guillaume's plans. 

 Some of his misery must have crossed his face, because Jenna's smile became a smirk.  "Poor Guillaume." she cooed.

Wednesday, May 8, 2019 
One hour before sunrise 
A dark alley not far from Watcher headquarters

 Andrea "Drea" the Vampire Slayer ducked under the vampire's arm and thrust her stake upward into his chest.  Her tiny stature made dodging his blow easy.  The stake struck him at the point where his ribs joined, directly under the breastbone.  With an explosive sound like a backfiring engine, he disintegrated.

 She whirled to face the last one, her long black braid snapping over her shoulder like a whip.  Her Slayer sense allowed her to locate the precise location of the last vampire in the alley.  This one had hung back from the fight and was trying to slip past her in the shadows.  It was scuttling along like a roach, hugging the wall for safety.  Drea stepped forward and cut off its path.

 Instead of attacking, the vampire retreated further into the alley.  Drea hefted her stake confidently and stalked her prey.  She had this one cornered; the alley was a dead-end.  The bloodsucker had no place to run. 

 They reached the end of the corridor.  Drea couldn't make out the vampire's features, but it wasn't much bigger than she was.  It was probably a female, judging by its stature.  Didn't matter.he, she, it.was dead anyway.  With one smooth motion, Drea closed the distance between herself and the vampire.  She thrust the stake home, expecting to penetrate its heart.

 *CLANK*

 Her stake ran into a metal trash lid that the vampire was clutching defensively to its chest.  Drea made an impressive dent, but failed to punch a hole in the metal.  Her stake shattered into a thousand tiny splinters.  With a grunt of annoyance, Drea snatched the lid from the vampire and tossed it away like a Frisbee.  Luckily, she always carried a backup, which she drew.

 "Wait!" the vampire, a girl judging by her voice, yelped as the pissed off Slayer took another step forward.  She cowered back against the alley-end wall, trapped and terrified.  "I'm Kindred!"

 "Kill me, start a war!"