Destined for a Vampire (Blood Like Poison 2)

In an oh-so-adult way, Lilly proceeded to make introductions.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bear and Mr. Llama,” I said, reaching out to shake their furry feet.

“They’re married, so they both have the same last name,” Lilly informed me.

Lilly’s perfectly articulated words and quick mind were amazing to me. It had been a long time since I’d been around children, but I was pretty sure she was extremely advanced to be just shy of four.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Mr. and Mrs. Llama, then.”

She nodded, satisfied with my correction.

“This is Mr. Mallard,” she said, indicating the duck that sat to her right.

“And this is his daughter, Lilly,” she explained, pointing to the duckling that was squished into a tiny high chair across the pink plastic table from me.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lilly. I love your name,” I said, winking at the real Lilly. She smiled prettily.

“She’s happy to meet you, but she misses her mother.”

There was a hint of sadness in Lilly’s silvery blue eyes and I felt the pinch of a frown between my eyes. I purposely smoothed it.

The characters at tonight’s tea party were much different than the ones from the other night. I couldn’t help but wonder why these had so much more emotional depth, what Lilly was thinking of and why.

I had no idea why Lilly’s mother wasn’t in the picture. No one had ever mentioned her, but now, considering tonight’s cast of characters, I was more than a little curious.

“She does? What happened to her mother?”

I watched Lilly fiddle with the big red bow around the duckling’s neck, a very maternal gesture. I wanted to ask a thousand questions, but I couldn’t let myself forget that she was just a child, just a baby really.

Then something occurred to me: I’d heard of therapists using stuffed animals in children’s sessions before. I couldn’t see why I shouldn’t give it a try.

“What happened to your mother, Lilly?” I asked, careful to address my question to the duck Lilly, not the real Lilly.

Lilly just shrugged, putting a white handkerchief in the duckling’s lap like a napkin. When she began to pour tea, evidently having no intention of answering my question, I took a different tack.

“What about you, Mr. Mallard? What happened to Lilly’s mother?”

“Her daddy doesn’t talk about it. But he’s sad. He loved his Mrs. Mallard and wishes he could see her every day.”

Lilly was twisting my heart around her teeny tiny finger and she didn’t even know it. I wanted to gather her in my arms and make her pain go away.

“One day, maybe Mr. Mallard will find someone else he loves just as much and Lilly will love her, too, and she can be a part of their family,” I offered tenderly.

Oh, how I hoped that could happen for sweet Lilly!

Lilly’s perfect cupid’s-bow mouth rounded into a silent “oh”, her shimmering eyes widening in excitement as she looked toward me.

“Could you marry Mr. Mallard? You could be Lilly’s new momma.”

If possible, my heart squeezed even tighter.

“I’m not a duck. I couldn’t marry Mr. Mallard.”

“But Lilly likes you.”

“And I like Lilly. It’s just that Mr. Mallard needs another duck. So does Lilly. And one day, Mr. Mallard will find that perfect duck and they’ll get married and then Lilly and her family can live happily ever after.”

Lilly sighed, chewing at her lip. “I guess,” she said, nodding in agreement.

But I wasn’t convinced. Her expression said that she didn’t have any hope that her family would ever be whole again.

How could a child so young, so sweet, have so much adult despair in her big beautiful eyes? What had happened in her short life to put it there? What tragedy had stolen the bliss of her youth?

With a resilience that only the innocent can manage, Lilly snapped right out of her melancholy and began presiding over her tea party as only a princess can. I laughed more than once at her charming performance and quick mind. I was rapidly discovering that she was a truly amazing child.

Lilly took a break from hosting to watch some cartoons. I sat on the couch opposite her, but it wasn’t long until she climbed down from hers and walked over to mine, crawling up to sit beside me.

As we watched the animated adventures of Dora, Lilly inched her way closer and closer to me until her head was in my lap and her thumb was nestled squarely in her mouth.

I reached down to brush a few chestnut strands away from her cheek and her soft, sweet baby scent wafted up to my nose. Her lids began to blink more slowly until they dropped and didn’t rise again.

Her tiny shoulders rose and fell with her deep, even breathing and I thought I could actually feel her wiggling her way into my heart and making herself a place there.

I waited a few minutes, letting her get good and asleep before moving her, then I picked her up and carried her to her bed, tucking her snugly beneath her Princess Jasmine comforter.

After I’d put her to bed, I wandered aimlessly through the house. At the front of my mind were two things: that book in Sebastian’s office and the way I lost time the last time I was here.

It made me uneasy to think about, especially since I still wasn’t sure what had happened. I was grateful that it hadn’t happened since then, and I hoped that it wouldn’t again. But in some strange way, because I hadn’t blacked out like that again, I seemed to be blaming the book for that first occurrence. For that reason, irrational though it was, I was hesitant to go to the book again.

I was flipping idly through a magazine when Sebastian returned home. He looked exactly as dapper as he had when he’d left, not the least bit wrinkled or mussed.

He walked straight into the den, removing his cuff links as he walked. He flopped down on the couch Lilly had first occupied and leaned his head back against the cushions.

He exhaled in an exhausted puff and said tiredly, “I hate formal events.”

I had no idea what to say to that, not having been to anything more important than prom last year. I did, however, feel really guilty that he had to take me home now.

“You know, since you’re tired, I can call my parents for a ride.”

Sebastian raised his head, frowning. “Absolutely not. It’s no trouble and I’m not that tired.”

I nodded, still feeling terrible about it.

“How did Lilly do?”

I smiled. “Great. She’s an amazing little girl.”

I thought of the odd beginning to our tea party, but said nothing. It was not my place and none of my business. That was one curiosity I’d have to take extra pains in squelching.