That had me relaxing.
"Though if you wanted to, it wouldn't take much work on your part," he added.
"What's the full story?" I asked, not wanting to pursue that line of thinking.
He waved my question away. "It would take far longer than you have to understand."
"What's with all the monsters?"
"Ah." He glanced around, his gaze fond.
I could feel other monsters hiding in the forest, watching and listening to our conversation.
"They're good company, if a little lacking on conversation. When you were a child, you enjoyed them immensely."
I remembered that. At the time they'd been no bigger than cats, coming out only when my mother turned off the lights for the night. Unlike most children, I'd never required a night light and now I knew why.
He lifted a hand and there was a rustle before one of the shadows dispersed, the light fueling it shooting to his palm. He closed his fist around it and squeezed. I felt the shift as the light winked out.
"Easily made, easily destroyed."
I stared at the remnants of the butterfly as they floated to the ground, feeling a surprising grief for its passing. "You didn't have to do that."
A soft understanding filled his face. "You feel pity for them."
I flattened my lips, not answering.
"You're kind," he said, almost as if to himself. "That trait doesn't usually last long in my offspring."
I was careful to keep my sarcastic response to myself, trying not to even think it. Whatever he was, my mental defenses didn't seem to work against him and aggravating him for petty reasons seemed like a fool's errand.
The quirk of his lips told me I hadn't quite managed to keep my thought contained. "I can take away your vampirism if you want. You'd be something else, but you would be free of the curse that was thrust upon you."
I considered him for several long moments.
It was true I'd often railed against what I was, using it as an excuse to pull away from the world. I mourned my humanity and the choices that had been taken from me.
Now he offered to undo what I was.
To do so felt like going backwards. This was a bell that couldn't be unrung. I'd gone too far down the path, gained too much.
Becoming human meant losing all that.
"No, thank you," I said at last, feeling like a giant weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
"Are you sure? You've never embraced what you are, and I'm offering to change that."
"I've come to accept what I am."
"Very wise, granddaughter," he said with a small smile.
"Why did you make me forget you?"
I'd loved him. When he stopped visiting, I'd cried myself to sleep for months, never knowing why. It got to the point my mother took me to a therapist.
"I felt it best to obey your father's wishes. My presence was making it difficult for you to blend."
And now we came to the proverbial elephant in the room.
