Godric softly stroked the woman’s dark hair to comfort her, even though she was only in the second night of her transition. The dirt tickled his nose, and he wondered once again about the new theory amongst his kind suggesting that the transition didn’t actually have to be made in the dirt to be successful.
As was his norm, he would wait for more information to surface on the subject before deciding for himself. He considered the Making of progeny too important an undertaking to risk for the sake of convenience or the gaining of new knowledge. The fate of the woman in his arms, soon to be his newest Child, was already too precious to leave to chance.
He never would have guessed that a short visit to London simply to sort his affairs would result in the unexpected acquisition of a Child…and a female Child at that.
He took his role as Maker very seriously and only chose to turn the humans with whom he felt the true “pull”. To vampires, the Maker’s pull was sacrosanct, completely different but tantamount in reverence to the pull of a Mate. Interference in either resulted in an immediate true death.
Once the Child was chosen and had fully transformed, the potential punishments for interference did lessen, but even after the Child reached the equivalent of “adulthood”, no one could interfere with a Maker’s Call, a Maker’s Command, or the response of a Maker to their Child’s Call.
Even though they may not feel the “pull”, many of his kind chose to turn humans for a variety of reasons, with loneliness, a desire for slaves, and true affection for the human being the most common. He could understand turning a valued human out of loneliness or affection, but could never abide the creation of slaves.
The first time he ever felt the Maker’s pull was around 900 years ago, and it was an epic success, he thought with earned pride. Eric the Northman was the highlight of his unlife, his brightest and best achievement.
Although at that time Godric had still been living in the clutches of the beast within and was little more than a savage monster delighting in the wars of humans, that particular “pull” had been so strong and so instinctive that he had been forced to obey. Thus, Eric the Northman was re-born.
Godric smiled in fond memory of Eric’s first years after the transition. He was indeed a handful! Godric had never encountered such an odd mixture of humor, arrogance, devilry, skill, determination, cunning, ferocity, merry camaraderie, cutting wit… If anyone had been born to become vampire, it was Eric.
If his latest Child took to the unlife even half as well, he would consider himself truly blessed.
He stretched what little he could, then rearranged himself protectively around his future daughter. He wondered what purpose his newest Child would serve in his future. Eric had proven to be an accomplished, intuitive strategist, an invaluable secret weapon when navigating the war that was vampire politics. He was a true gift becoming ever more precious as the centuries accumulated.
This Child, however, was different. He’d never had a daughter before, and wondered at the potential differences. He knew many, well, most Makers enjoyed a sexual relationship with their progeny, oftimes whether the progeny wanted it or not. He could not understand forcing sex upon anyone, and would certainly never consider doing so to his own creations. The Maker/Child relationship was simply too precious, and deserving of far too much respect, to allow that sort of abuse.
So…a daughter. His firm lips twitched at the thought of suddenly becoming more knowledgeable than he wanted to be about women’s fashions and…whatever else it was that women deemed necessary. The injuries this human had suffered proved, however, that she was in truth a fighter, that giving up was not something she would do willingly.
The “pull” to change her had been every bit as intense as it had been with Eric.
After Godric had removed her assailants from this life, he had offered her a different sort of life…a never-ending life if she so chose. When he had offered her that chance, with her last conscious breath she took a leap of faith and whispered a resounding “YES!”.
As he slipped her peacefully into her eternal night, her spirit clung to him with surprising strength even as her body gave up. He suspected she would be glorious in her new unlife, and hoped for her sake that her transition would be as seamless as her acceptance.
Soon after she woke, they would have to move, and he considered which property would be best. Although they were in England, her accent and dark appearance made him question her true origins. Was she Spanish? Portuguese? She was as dark as his Eric was fair.
What was he going to do with a daughter? He held her a bit closer as he resigned himself to raising another baby vampire after all those centuries.
He tested the faint-but-growing Bond, and was somewhat relieved to find nothing of the calling of a Mate. The Maker/Child Bond was complex enough…he couldn’t imagine the complications inherent with a Mate Bonding. He’d never had a true Mate, and was pretty sure he didn’t want one. He preferred a much simpler life.
Godric was determined to enjoy this last night of peace before all hell would undoubtedly break loose. Newborns had definite needs and so very little self-control, especially so soon after rising. At least his contacts in the City would gladly help in any way they could. He decided that after a good feeding, they should leave for Wales. Should they be spotted, her darker hair wouldn’t stand out as much there.
He’d heard in the past of Makers having a horrible time controlling their newborns. Although Eric had indeed been strong-willed and determined, he seemed to intuitively know when to listen to reason and caution…most of the time.
The worst punishment he’d ever had to implement was to forbid Eric from feeding on beautiful women for a solid month. He grinned at the memory – Eric had whined and pouted like the world was coming to an end. But Eric had also learned to better listen to his Maker. After that, he’d rarely had to even consider using his Command, and was glad. He much preferred being Eric’s “brother” to being his “father”…but had yet to be his “son”.
Once “grown”, Eric continued to hold him in almost worshipful esteem, no matter how hard Godric would try to point out that such reverence was in no way necessary. When years would pass between visits, Eric would still immediately drop to one knee before him when they would next meet, even though he knew full well that Godric would immediately command him to rise. Godric knew he could issue a Command to stop this, but he understood Eric’s need to acknowledge his Maker. With a rueful grin, he knew that he would simply continue telling his Child to rise.
He pondered for a moment the possibility of joining his child, then promptly disregarded the notion. Raising his new daughter was his own joy and responsibility, and Eric was doing so well in his own life, with his own progeny…although he might be able to supply some tips on raising a daughter.
Then he remembered Pamela, and very quickly tossed that notion as well. Pamela was an original – definitely an…original. Somehow, even with as little as he knew of the transforming human he held in his arms, he knew his daughter was nothing like his Grand-Child…as she insisted upon calling herself.
Oddly, Pamela complimented his Eric in a totally unexpected yet completely natural way. While she was nothing like what he would have chosen for himself, he did like her…in smaller doses.
He nodded. Wales it was, then.
With his daughter.
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