Chapter 3
21 December 1985
There were plenty of things that Mort Lacoste hated. Sunlight, females that didn't go for one-night stands, laws restricting hunting to only some districts of the City… the list went on and on. But at the moment, on the absolute top of that list were overexcited children and giggly fairies.
He sighed theatrically when Harry and Nadia once again burst into laughter. Nadia flew up and down and her body was jerking violently as if she had a hiccup. Harry was jumping and clapping his hands with mirth.
"Good idea, Nady!" he kept repeating. Mort snorted when he heard the endearment. The boy had no sense of decorum whatsoever. Mort still wondered why exactly had he accepted being called "Uncle" – he felt embarrassed each and every time he heard it. He wasn't sure why he had allowed this foolishness.
Perhaps, there was no reasonable explanation. A lot of what happened around Harry appeared to defy the laws of logic. The boy seemed so terribly out of place in the House of Auctorius with his infantile behavior, his toys, his constant cheerfulness and his exuberant emotionality.
Tonight, Harry and Nadia were acting their absolute worst. Mort admitted that he understood their enthusiasm –they were both about to see the City for the first time.
Normally, Harry was not able to leave the House. His blood had maddening effect on the vampires and while he was safe enough from the members of Auctorius Clan, thanks to his heir status, nothing stopped others from attacking.
Tonight was different. Every year, on the night of the Winter Solstice there was a Grand Festival, during which all inhabitants of the City could meet peacefully to celebrate the end of year. Ancient magic guarantied that no harm could be inflicted upon anyone. If Harry's safety was their only concern, the boy could even go to the Festival unaccompanied.
However, that was not the case. Harry was, of course, causing great curiosity among all who held power in the City. And it would be perfect occasion for them to try and gain upper hand in the political games they all played. Harry was considered Amon's weakness and everyone would be only too eager to exploit it.
Mort thought that even having boy surrounded by guards was too much of a risk. But Amon insisted that Harry couldn't grow up shielded from the world.
"Everybody ready?"
Mort turned around abruptly and saw Amon coming down the huge staircase, dressed in formal attire of a the Leader of Auctorius Clan. Black and silver suited him and he would have been looking formidable if it wasn't for idiotic, benevolent smile on his face. Mort had to stifle a groan. He found Amons' reactions to Harry sickening.
"Yes!" replied Harry with a grin and few totally unnecessary jumps.
"Very well," Amon kept smiling. "Let's go then."
"Look there Nadia! Look at the fireworks!"
"Harry! Harry! Have you seen how quickly they fly?"
"Oh, look at these dancers, Nadia! Won't they get burned with all that fire?"
"Oh, what is this thing they eat? Is it ice-cream? Can I have some, Daddy?"
Amon watched his son and couldn't help catching a bit of boy's enthusiasm. As he had attended the Grand Festival every year for few centuries, he usually found all the attractions repetitive and boring. He kept coming only because it was expected from someone like him to make an appearance. Usually, he spent whole night discussing politics with various other important people, equally tired with the whole thing.
But this year, as he watch Harry's awed reaction to everything around, he couldn't help enjoying himself. He took the boy from one attraction to another, bought him huge blue lollipop, small play-sword and few other trinkets.
Finally though, it was time for his traditional round of polite and empty conversations. Count de la Roche, leader of Cerberus Clan was approaching with curious expression on his face. Amon scowled inwardly. The Count was dressed in red robe, which, while certainly good for hunting (no visible blood-stains), was very inappropriate for a gathering where potential prey was invited. As if that was not enough, robes clashed terribly with Count's red-brown hair. Overall effect was disastrous.
"Mort, go and have fun – show Harry the menagerie or something. I have to…"
"Don't worry," Mort interrupted impatiently. "It won't be difficult to keep the brat occupied here."
Amon snorted. He watched with some amusement as Harry dragged Nadia to the gladiators sparring on round arena and Mort followed them reluctantly.
"I see there was a grain of truth in the rumors, Lord Auctorius." Count de la Roche said quietly. He was following Amon's gaze and seemed honestly surprised by what he saw.
Amon looked at the vampire and greeted him with slight nod. Count returned the gesture with reverence and remained quiet, waiting for the answer.
"There usually is some truth in any rumor." Amon was not going to make this conversation easy.
"Of course. Yet, the rumor I'm referring to seemed so outrageous that I refused to believe it, until I found the proof."
"And have you found it?" Amon asked raising his eyebrows, as if making sure that he understood correctly.
Count de la Roche hesitated for a moment.
"Yes. Or no. All depends on the meaning of what I have seen, I suppose."
"It's easy to misinterpret anything our eyes show us, isn't it?" Amon said vaguely. He could play this game for almost infinite amount of time – he knew what information Count wanted, but was not going to volunteer it. Count had to ask directed question, if he wanted to learn anything about Harry. And asking direct question would give Amon right to ask question of his own and expect honest answer.
It was all down to such games in politics. Here, in the City, there was no big price to win – power was divided and stayed in the same hands for centuries. Amon had to content himself with small, pointless struggles – big, important wars had already been fought and won.
"Yes. It is." Count said. He seemed irritated by the conversation – a bit impatient perhaps. "Well, maybe you would be so kind, Lord Auctorius, and tell me what am I supposed to think, when I see the little human boy, dressed in Auctorius black and silver robes and accompanied by Mort Lacoste – vampire known to passionately despise humankind."
Victory! He was going to savor it.
"I wouldn't say Mort despises mortals – they are his favorite pastime." He said thoughtfully.
Count de la Roche blinked, disappointed by the lack of answer.
"Am I to understand, Lord, that you are not going to either confirm or refute all the gossip regarding the boy?" He asked.
"Oh, pardon me Count de la Roche," Amon managed to sound genuinely taken aback. "I was not aware that my personal decisions would cause such a stir."
"Well, they did." Count said with unexpected frankness. "And unless all that I heard is very far from truth, such reaction from other clans shouldn't surprise you."
"What have you heard, Count?" Amon asked.
"I have heard that you, Lord, have chosen the boy for your heir." Count emphasized absurdity of this claim with dismissive gesture. He seemed to consider the notion impossible.
"It's the truth." Blunt reply knocked the air out of the red-haired vampire.
"It's the… truth? But – why? How?" Count was shaking his head with denial, apparently unable to believe what he heard.
"Count? Are you feeling alright?" Amon asked with false concern. The other vampire's reaction annoyed him. Harry was his heir for more then half-a-year and Amon never made a secret of it. One would expect this to be wildly known by now and not cause such astonishment.
"Oh… yes, yes." Count replied absentmindedly. It was clear that the information distressed him.
"Lord Auctorius, good evening!" Another vampire joined the conversation. Amon smiled slightly at Huang Zhan-shi, Leader of Xiao Clan. Perhaps it was only matter of cultural difference, but more often than not Amon found conversations with him unusually interesting.
"Good evening," he replied politely.
In the same time Count finally became coherent enough to mumble some excuses and go away.
"You have scared him, Lord Auctorius," Lord Xiao said with solemn expression on his face.
"Have I?" Amon asked, not bothering to hide his amusement. "Honestly, I merely answered his question. I didn't threaten him. I didn't mention his debts. I can't see a reason to be afraid."
"You gave him the answer he feared."
"Perhaps." Amon said pensively. "But why would my appointing the heir scare anyone? I would rather expect my enemies to be pleased – it gives them some leverage, something to use against me, doesn't it?"
"Yes," said Chinese vampire, nodding. "But they know you well, Lord Auctorius. They know you never do something you wouldn't gain from. And yet, they do not see what you can possibly gain from this decision. So they are scared because they don't know your plan. They think of easy ways to attack you and they think: 'He must be prepared to such an obvious attack.' So they do not attack, because they are sure you will somehow turn the attack against them."
Amon laughed. He was aware of his reputation, of course, but this was the first time, when it worked so brilliantly in his favor. Because the sad truth was that he didn't have any plan –Harry was weak, unprepared for the role of the heir. There were many traditions, such as Heirs' Duel, for example, in which an heir could be asked to represent his clan. And Harry wasn't ready to fight anyone and he would not be in many years. Any clan leader could use this to gain upper-hand over Auctorius Clan.
"And also, "Lord Xiao continued, "they ask themselves: 'why?' You did something they don't understand and what they don't understand, they fear. They think you might go further. You did something very bold and they think: 'what will he do next?' They don't know what to expect and this scares them too."
Amon nodded. Lord Xiao's point of view was interesting and not far from what he thought.
"Thank you, Lord Xiao," he said. "Your words are wise." But he couldn't help thinking that his enemies would not remain scared forever and would sooner or later make their move. He was worried.
Lord Xiao bowed his head, thanking for the complement.
As Harry and Nadia went from one attraction to another, Mort couldn't help feeling self-conscious. Here he was, playing nanny to two kids – what a dreadful, shameful position. It was terrible to find oneself in such a situation in a public place, where anyone could recognize him.
He only waited for someone to taunt him – he already received fair number of contemptuous looks.
As if on cue, two young vampires started shouting and laughing in the loud, obnoxious way.
"Look at that!" One said.
"What is he doing with that human?" Other asked with a slurred, drunken voice.
"He is huna… humanitarian," first replied. "You know – taking good care of your prey, before you feed."
They both burst with laughter.
Mort suddenly felt something exploding inside him – he had enough, he was Mort Lacoste and nobody ever talked to him like this. Not thinking twice about the situation, he advanced toward two vampires in purposeful strides, forgetting momentarily about his charge. He grabbed both of them and pulled them close.
Slowly, he opened his mouth and run his tongue over each of their necks. He sensed their blood and after making sure he memorized their taste he slowly leaned back from two oblivious drunks.
"You are lucky," he whispered. "I can't harm you tonight. Otherwise you would both be dead by now. But I promise you – I will find you and I will make you regret every single word you said."
Two vampires seemed to barely register anything around them and certainly weren't worried by the threat.
They giggled uncontrollably and Mort felt sudden urge to simply lure them far enough from the City for the ancient protective spells not to work and then torture them for his heart content. They were so drunk that they would probably follow him eagerly. But of course, he couldn't. Not when he had to take constant care of Harry.
Disgustedly, he dropped them on the ground and turned back, only to see his charge gone. He looked around frantically, but both Harry and Nadia simply vanished. Everyone seemed to carry on as if nothing happened. He looked back at the two vampires, but they were still lying on the ground in and undignified heap. Were they a ruse? Was it some planned attack?
Suppressing the panic, he went to the place where the boy had been standing before the whole confrontation. He could still sense his presence in the air. He let his instinct guide him, hoping that the brat didn't go too far and had enough sense not to talk to strangers.
Harry was dying from laughter as he run. It was such a brilliant prank – he could easily imagine Uncle Mort's stunned face, when he would finally notice their disappearance. Although, judging from how angry he was, it wouldn't happen too soon.
Since the day Harry first met Mort, he witnessed the vampire's fits of uncontrolled rage many times. The reasons were usually very stupid: servants didn't bring something quickly enough, somebody didn't address him with enough respect – there could even be no reason at all. Harry found this sort of erratic and violent behavior easy to relate to – he had been treated like this his whole life. Calling Mort 'uncle' came to him naturally; somehow, on subconscious level, he was reminded of the other person he used to call this.
Even now, after half a year, Harry didn't really trust his guard. Mort had never directed his fury at Harry, but the young boy expected it to happen, sooner or later. He deliberately disobeyed his Uncle, because he wanted this moment to finally come and be over with it.
Of course, Harry was unaware that there were two different magical protections, making any sort of attack from Mort absolutely impossible. One was his heir status – no member of Auctorius Clan could harm him in any way. Other was his empathetic magic, which caused powerful magical creatures to like him. Despite his fears, Harry was perfectly safe in Mort's reluctant care.
So, usually Harry was disobedient, because he wanted to know how far he could go, he was testing Mort's patience. This time however, this has not been Harry's motivation. He simply was tired of constant sulking of his guard and was too young to understand the risk. As he was running with Nadia, as far from Mort as possible, he was feeling mischievous and very sly. He also wanted to see menagerie, which his father mentioned, but Mort dismissed as very boring.
Finally, they arrived to the large, round tent with twelve feet high, moving sculpture of dragon above the entrance. They stopped, awed by the view.
"Come on, let's go!" Harry exclaimed, grinning. "Maybe they've got real one inside. It would be ten times as big!" Harry stretched his hands far, to show exactly how huge dragons could be.
"Even hundred times as big, Harry!" Nadia countered with wide smile.
"Um… I don't know, Nadia," Harry replied with pensive frown. "I think there wouldn't be enough place in the tent."
"It might be enlarged inside," small fairly said playfully and burst with laughter, as if it was funniest thing ever. Harry grinned and beckoned at her to follow him. But before they had a chance to finally get in someone's half amused, half disdainful comment stopped them dead in their tracks.
"So, you are the little human everyone are talking about, aren't you?"
Harry and Nadia turned immediately and were greeted with sight of very odd vampire. He had to be very young when he was turned – no more then sixteen years old. Of course, it meant nothing about his real age, but Harry could feel that he was much less powerful than his Dad or Uncle, so he obviously had to be much younger then they were. He was tall and lanky and had short, spiky and slightly silvery hair. His voice was rather thin and didn't sound very serious.
Harry remembered that he shouldn't talk to strangers, but this one didn't really seem dangerous at all. So he asked curiously:
"Who are you?"
The "young" vampire laughed.
"Who am I, you ask," he said. "Not someone with whom a little princeling like you should associate, I assure you."
He stopped at gazed at two children for a while. Then he looked around briefly and only after that, he finally continued.
"My name is Essel," he paused again. Harry found it weird that the vampire didn't give his clan name. He remembered his Dad saying that this was very rude.
"I am Harry Auctorius," he said proudly, mostly to show that he knew how to present himself properly. He didn't notice everyone around them turning and staring at him.
"Oh, I know that, princeling," Essel snickered. He was very well aware of the reaction the boy's statement caused. And was more then little curious as to why nobody had yet come and stopped his conversation with young heir of the clan which was after all considered to be the most powerful.
"I am surprised, princeling, that you were allowed to run on your own like that," he said. Harry didn't reply, but the treacherous blush on his cheeks told Essel everything the vampire needed to know. He laughed out loud.
"You are a mischievous bugger, aren't you?" he asked.
Harry didn't say anything, so it was Nadia who finally spoke in careless, joyful voice.
"Oh, yes he is. He is driving his Dad and Uncle mad, you know? And me too, most of the time."
"And you are?" Essel inquired.
"Nadia, his slave," she answered with a shrug.
"More like partner in crime, I bet."
Essel was honestly amused by his very unusual company. He had not talked to children for at least a couple of centuries.
Nadia only shrugged again, but it was clear from her expression that she indeed was Harry's partner in crime. Then she grinned, flew up and did few backward somersaults. Harry knew that this meant she was getting bored.
"Come on Nadia," he said. "Let's see the menagerie."
Nadia laughed joyously and sped to the entrance. Harry turned on his hills to follow her quickly. He was getting a little unnerved by Essel – the vampire seemed perfectly friendly (his appearance only enhanced the impression), but his eyes remained lifeless throughout entire conversation. As he started walking, Essel put the hand on his shoulder and stopped him.
"Wait," he said seriously. "You might be safe from direct harm here, but this place is dangerous none-the-less. It will be better if I keep an eye on you."
Harry shook his head.
"Dad said I shouldn't talk to strangers," he muttered.
Essel's eyebrows shot up.
"A little too late for that, isn't is? You already talked to me." There was dangerous glint in his eyes now, as if he enjoyed Harry's discomfort.
Harry felt very insecure now – he wanted Mort or Dad to come. He looked around, hoping they would appear somewhere, but he only saw multitude of unfamiliar faces and everybody were looking straight at him.
"So, this is this mysterious human, so powerful that Lord Auctorius himself chose him for his heir?" a dwarf with wild, dirty beard shouted. "He looks more like a whiny brat to me."
A few laughed, but majority of the gathered creatures remained silent. Harry's cheeks reddened at the insult. He was powerful, he really was! Dad kept telling him how unusual his magical gift was. And he was not going to let anyone laugh at him or at his Father. He straightened up and slowly started to gather magic in his hands, although he wasn't really sure what he was going to do with it. He simply wanted to be treated with respect.
Everybody in the crowd felt waves of energy coming from him. Harry didn't know it, but he almost physically grew and strange light appeared in his eyes.
Nobody was laughing now. No, they were watching him with awe and Harry understood that his magic had worked. He looked around in triumph and let his gaze linger on the scruffy dwarf which offended him earlier. The dwarf seemed to shrink under the scrutiny and finally turned around and run. Revengeful part of Harry wanted to follow him.
Once again, Essel stopped him by placing hand on his shoulder.
"Remember where you are," he whispered quietly. "This is Grand Festival. You cannot harm anyone, no matter how much they deserve it."
Harry looked at Essel with wide eyes. He suddenly was ashamed of himself. His Dad had told him to pick his opponents carefully and only fight those that were worthy. The dwarf obviously wasn't.
"I…" he started talking, but he wasn't really sure what to say. He was bit afraid of the strange, intoxicating emotion that overwhelmed him just a moment ago. It felt so good to be in control.
Essel nodded and appeared to understand inner turmoil Harry was going through.
"Come on," he said. "Your friend is waiting at the menagerie."
And indeed, Nadia was standing right next to the entrance and gaped at Harry as if she saw him properly for the first time. She wasn't smiling. Harry let Essel lead him. He felt very dirty now and he didn't understand why.
Suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind jerked him back. Harry looked back and sighed in relief – it was Father. His face was unreadable, but Harry sensed his anger. He leaned against his Father's legs and relished safety of being held by him. He turned back and noticed Mort, who was looming over Essel in a very threatening pose.
"Don't you dare touch the boy, you scum!" Mort spoke with low, deadly voice, which Harry already recognized as much more dangerous then actual screaming.
To his utter surprise however, Essel didn't really appear cowed. Instead, he straightened up and looked at other vampire with utter disdain.
"Not that it was ever my intention to have anything to do with him," he said sarcastically. "But I thought that it wouldn't be good for barely…' he paused and looked at Harry appraisingly. "How old is he? Four? Five? Five-year-old human to walk unsupervised around here. This place is dangerous, you know?"
"Don't patronize me!" Mort's voice was filled with barely controlled fury and Harry was sure that had it not been for the Festival, there would not be much left of Essel at the moment. He thought that Essel was either very brave or very stupid. There was again this strange glint in the blond vampire's eyes.
"Whatever the boy was doing, it was no business of the likes of you, you piece of trash. You should keep away from your betters!"
Essel opened his mouth to retort and suddenly closed them again. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded more like a hiss and was laced with so much venom that Harry instinctively moved closer to his father.
"You will not be in position to consider yourself anyone's better for very long now."
And with that, he abruptly turned and walked away. Mort almost jumped, eager to follow him.
"Not now, cousin. It's pointless," said Amon. Harry shivered when he heard how outraged his father was, even if he appeared relatively calm.
22 December 1985
Amon hadn't said a single word to Harry after they came back. He sent his son to bed and left him alone. He knew that if he actually tried talking to him right then, he would probably loose control and do something he would regret later.
Harry acted so foolishly, so irresponsibly! But wasn't it part of his nature? He was a human child after all. From what little Amon remembered from being a human, he had the overall impression that children weren't very clever.
A strange thought occurred to him suddenly. He had been a child once. He couldn't recall any of it, but he had to be. He had had parents, house. He must have done some stupid things then. It was a pity he couldn't evoke even a single memory of his childhood – perhaps it would help him deal with Harry.
He simply didn't know how to treat his son now. The boy deserved a punishment, but he seemed so subdued, so afraid on the way back. Flash of his anger returned, but this time it was directed at Mort. If his fool of a cousin hadn't left Harry, none of it would have happened. But he wasn't really surprised. He was aware how uncomfortable Mort was in his role, even after half a year. Yes, he was fond of Harry, even if he would never admit it. But still - it was obvious that this sort of taunting would throw him over the edge.
Amon understood that whole was situation wasn't really anybody's fault, but he was too furious to really care. Finally, he decided that only thing to calm him down right now would be a good, whole-night hunting. He opened the window, transformed swiftly into enormous bat and flew away.
He came back almost with the sunrise, feeling much more like himself. It was too late however to talk to Harry – he had to wait for the evening now.
When the evening finally came, his anger was truly gone. He went to Harry's quarter in rather good mood – he was going to get over unpleasant conversation with the boy quickly and then give him some dull book to read in Ancient Vampiric Tongue (Harry still wasn't fluent enough with this language, as their servants mostly spoke Russian). Perhaps Inter-clan Laws and Rules of Conduct? It was bit over the top, but Harry needed to learn its content someday. It would be educational and would serve as a proper punishment.
So he was totally unprepared for the wave of absolute despair that almost overwhelmed him as he approached Harry's room. Suddenly alarmed he quickened his pace, opened the door and stopped dead in his track. Room was full of untouched trays with food. Harry was sitting in his bed, pale, with bloodshed eyes. His lips were trembling.
"Harry, what is…"
He only managed to get this far with his inquiry, when, with astounding speed, Harry bolted out from the bed and in flash was hugging him with all his might. He was saying mumbling something into his leg, but Amon couldn't understand any of it. He lifted the child up and held him in what he hoped was comforting hug.
"What's wrong, son?" he asked.
"Oh Daddy…" Harry sobbed wretchedly. "I thought you didn't – didn't want me anymore." Another round of sobs. "Because I was such a bad, bad boy." Hiccupping. "I promise, I will be good now. I promise, just don't leave me Daddy."
Harry was clutching him desperately and Amon listened to his words with horror. It was half a year already and he still felt so insecure! At this particular moment he wanted to kill boy's relatives all over again, for doing this to him.
"Harry," he whispered soothingly. "Harry, my son, I will never, ever leave you. How could you even think of it?"
Harry kept sobbing, but as Amon rubbed his back, he slowly, slowly started to calm down. Finally, he was only sniffling slightly, but still didn't let go of his Father.
Finally, Amon decided that Harry was calm enough to go through with the conversation.
"Harry, can you listen to me?"
Harry nodded shakily.
"Harry, what you did on the Festival was very stupid and reckless. Do you know why?"
The boy nodded again.
"Can you tell me?"
"Because it was dangerous and someone could do something to me?" Harry answered uncertainly.
"Yes Harry. Uncle Mort was terribly worried, when he noticed that you were gone. I was even more worried, I was scared."
Harry looked at him disbelievingly.
"Yes, my son, scared. Because you are very important to me." He reached to boys neck and lifted the medallion that was hidden under his shirt. "This medallion I've given to you for you protection. Through it I can sense whenever you feel endangered. And last evening, at one moment you did feel endangered, didn't you?"
"Mhm," said Harry.
"And that's why I was scared – I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know where you were and couldn't help you. Do you understand?"
"Yes Daddy."
"Good." Amon smiled. "Now, promise me you will never go off on your own like this again."
"I promise, Daddy," Harry said solemnly.
"Very well, Harry. So, tell me exactly what happened yesterday."
Through a lot of sniffing, hugging and with plenty of promises that he will never do it again, Harry managed to recount everything more or less accurately. When he was finished, Amon smiled at him and said:
"Harry, you did piece of very serious magic yesterday, much more advanced than anything we have done so far. I'm proud of you."
Harry beamed, but then looked down and said quietly:
"I felt very dirty afterwards, Daddy. I don't know why."
Amon looked at his son for a while and then he spoke in a very thoughtful manner:
"I think Harry that your human nature was cause of it. You see, for humans, different types of magic are connected with different emotions. Some are coming with love, other with hate or fear. I believe that they have this distinction between white and black magic: first comes with positive and second with negative emotions. For a vampire, this is not important – vampire is not affected by the magic he performs. So, although now you may encounter some difficulties, you can rest assured that they will be gone once you are turned. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded.
"Yesterday you altered the way others perceived you – it was a mind-controlling spell, which can only by caused by hate or fear. That's why you felt bad later – those feelings are not natural to you. It was also very powerful, which made the emotion so strong."
"Nadia doesn't want to talk to me now," Harry said guiltily.
Amon shook his head and snorted.
"Son, she belongs to you. She will do whatever you want her to do," he said patiently. Harry's attitude towards his own servants slightly annoyed him.
"I know, Daddy," Harry replied. "But I want her to want to talk to me, not do it because she has to."
"Fae are very capricious. She is afraid of you at the moment, but I'm sure she will forget it soon enough. Is there anything else you want to talk about?"
Harry hesitated for a moment.
"Daddy, are you going to punish Essel?"
Amon blinked.
"Of course," he said seriously. "The way he spoken is unacceptable for somebody in his position."
Harry pondered over this and then asked:
"What position, Daddy?"
"Harry, Essel is a clan-less vampire."
"Clan-less vampire?" Harry repeated, perplexed.
"Yes. He has no clan, no family, nobody to protect him. In our society ones like him are considered lowest of scum. You didn't know, so I don't blame you, but respectable vampires never talk to ones like him. They are outcasts, with no rights, no laws to defend them. For touching you alone, he deserves to die."
"But Daddy," Harry cried with apprehension. "He… I was afraid of him for a moment, but he was rather nice to me… I think. Do you have to kill him?" he ended with a whine.
"Harry, if it was his only crime, I could let it pass, but I can't forget the way he spoke to Mort. This is unforgivable."
Harry lowered his eyes and tried to squash the terrible guilt that was eating him from the inside.
Author notes: I'm so terribly sorry for long wait. I head a lot o work and simply couldn't find time for anything not related to my studies... (which I rather despise at the moment). At least it's finally over 5k words long.
Anyway, thanks a lot for all the reviews.
Also, there is this funny new forum-thingy here, so I created one especially for discussing this story. If you have any related or unrelated questions, the link is in my profile. From this chapter on, I will also reply to some reviews using this nice 'reply' option instead of messing up my profile:)
Next chapter: Harry deals with guilt. And he is noughty boy again. And he finally gets to learn some fighting. This will probably be the last chapter with so young Harry.
Disclaimer: I get no money. Nothing you recognise belongs to me.