“Do you think that even though we exchanged blood only once, that could be the reason I’m feeling so out of control of my emotions?” She pulled the jar of tea down from the cabinet. “What I’m asking is, do you think that’s all it would take? One time?”
“You said he warned you it could happen,” Fenja said, putting the kettle on the stove. “That you might feel grief and think he was deceased.”
Silke bit down on her lower lip with her teeth. “He did say that. I thought it was silly. I don’t know why I didn’t take him at his word. I’ve never felt this way when Tora was unavailable for me to reach.”
“You grew up with her, and it was normal for her to be away during daylight hours,” Fenja pointed out.
“She gave me blood many times and took mine.”
“Clearly, it isn’t the same thing.”
“It isn’t like I can find books to study his culture,” Silke said.
The center island was a large rectangle with three sturdy wooden stools covered in leather on either side of it. She pulled out one of the stools and sat. As a child, she’d spent a great deal of time right there on that stool while her mother made tea and scones. She’d learned the art of tea making, of putting love into each cup so when they talked together at the beginning or end of the day, Fenja would feel as loved as her mother had always made her feel.
“Thank you for last night,” she said. “For telling Benedek about his birth parents. I know you had to really consider before you chose to disclose things to him that might have a negative effect.”
“Children often blame themselves when they have nothing to do with a tragedy. There were times when you were a young child and you’d ask me if you killed your mother. Some child at school would have said something unkind.”
“I’d forget I was adopted. You’re the only mother I’ve ever known. I have my mother’s recordings to me, and you’ve told me about her and her family, but you’re the one who is always there for me. I might love my birth family but from a distance. You have been with me when I had nightmares or if I injured myself. You’ve been the one who saw to my very extensive education.”
Fenja poured water from the kettle into the little teapot and placed a cozy over it. “I made many mistakes. I might be a seer. I may have wanted to be a mother. The truth is I had no idea what I was doing.”
“You did just fine,” Silke defended her.
“Did I? What about your childhood? While other children played with each other, had toys and did naughty things, you were learning to defend yourself. To fight demons and vampires. You had no real childhood, Silke. I didn’t realize for a long time that the only two people you consistently were around were Tora and me. And we both saw to your education nearly every waking minute.”
“I loved my education. If you recall, I was always dragging you to the forest to show you my plants. I lived for those days, my hands in the soil, whipping up remedies for those in the village who were ill or injured. That was important to me, so it was important to you and Tora.”
“We influenced you, Silke. Yes, you needed to learn to fight. You needed to learn the uses of medicinal plants and the secrets of our ancient forest, but you also needed to be a child with friends. I should have made certain you were outdoors playing. Everything you did was to further your education. It wasn’t for you to just have fun.”
“I did have fun,” Silke insisted, feeling Fenja’s distress. “I love my life. I’m proud of my abilities. The truth is my brain demands constant new knowledge, and I have to keep learning in order to keep from making myself crazy. It’s the same with physical activities. I need to move. I like learning and perfecting each defense and offense, seeing if I can improve on it. I’ve never been made to feel in competition with anyone or that I’m not working hard enough.”
Fenja laughed softly. “You worked hard enough at anything you wanted or needed to learn, enough for ten children and then some.”
“That should tell you right there I found joy in it. And what about the creatures in the forest? You and Tora introduced me to them. They were my constant companions growing up. I always knew I had them. I chattered so much I’m sure they warned each other when I was coming.”
As long as she talked with her mother, she could keep the wild grief at bay. The familiar tea ritual and the beloved kitchen with all its memories helped to distance the terrible need to call to Benedek. She feared if she did call to him and he didn’t answer, she would dissolve into a puddle of grief on the floor. That would be too humiliating to bear.
Silke needed Benedek to view her as a strong partner. He was an exceptionally strong man. She needed his respect to be able to live with him. She couldn’t imagine, if she succumbed to the feeling of sorrow when he’d warned her it was false, that he would admire and respect her. He’d view her as weak. She would view herself that way.
Fenja poured tea into two cups and added honey. She cut slices of cheese and placed berry jam and a small piece of honeycomb beside the cheese and flat crackers on a tray. Setting the tray on the island in front of Silke, she indicated the food.
Silke’s stomach lurched. She turned her face away from the tray with her favorite type of cheese, crackers and homemade jam. The sight of it made her feel sick. She’d woken with no appetite and barely managed to drink water. She had hoped tea would be soothing, but now the mixture of aromas seemed to cause her stomach to rebel.
“You need to keep up your strength, Silke. Eat something. I know it will be difficult, but I want you to try.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Silke admitted reluctantly. It was one more thing she couldn’t seem to overcome, and it bothered her. “Mama, if becoming a Carpathian makes me weak, it won’t be a good thing. I feel as if I’m much weaker, not stronger, after one blood exchange. If I’m like this now, what will I feel when we have our second exchange? He’ll be expecting my cooperation, and I did give my word.”
“Communication is always vital in any relationship,” Fenja reminded. “In one such as yours, with completely different cultures, it is even more so. Talk to him. Voice your concerns. Allow him to know what you’re thinking and feeling so he can explain precisely what is happening to your body.”
“I’m afraid he’ll view me as too weak to be a full partner if I can’t handle this. We’re just at the beginning.” She cupped both hands around the warmth of the teacup. “It’s appalling to me that I can’t handle a separation from him. I can’t even eat or drink without him. What does that say about me?”
“It says you’re human and courageous enough to enter his world, one you don’t yet understand, but you’re trying to for him. Benedek is man enough to see that and respect you all the more for it,” Fenja assured.
From the time she’d opened her eyes, her hearing, always astounding, was even more acute. Her vision had improved significantly. Her sense of smell had more than doubled. She wanted to attribute her lack of desire for food to that but knew better. Benedek’s blood had enhanced her senses.
As far back as she could remember, she had always been able to see into others. When she was a child attending school, she was able to read the other children. She knew who lied. She knew their emotions. She became adept at it as a teenager. At the time, she didn’t realize she was perfecting the art of slipping in and out of mind merges. It just began to happen. Once she realized what she was doing, she practiced, mostly on animals, insects and birds. Then it was the mythical creatures in the forest. When she knew she could keep her energy low enough that she wouldn’t tip anyone off, she began to practice on humans and even Tora.
