Celena’s face lit up. "I like mathematics. And drawing. And Uncle Reggie’s teaching me martial arts. I can do a roundhouse kick!"
"She’s a prodigy," Nana said proudly. "Reading at college level. Solving equations that make my head spin."
"Takes after her father," Rose said, smiling at Blake over their daughter’s head.
"And her mother’s stubbornness," Reggie added with a wink.
For a precious half hour, they listened to Celena’s stories—her lessons with Nana, her training with Reggie, her friendship with the vampire child who lived three houses down. It was surreal—their six-year-old was discussing calculus and combat techniques—but it was a joyful surreality, a gift.
But eventually, the conversation turned to the world outside. The silence that fell over the kitchen was heavy with dread.
"What happened, Reggie?" Blake asked, his voice low enough that Celena, who had moved to sit between her parents, wouldn’t hear every word. "The city..."
Reggie glanced at Nana, who nodded slightly. "Salvador returned about four years ago," he began. "No one knows where he’d been—some say in torpor, others say he was building power in Europe. But he came back with an army. And with your sister and Damien at his side."
"Elena and Damien? I knew they had some partnership but I didn’t think it went beyond their shared hatred for myself and my husband," Rose shook her head in disbelief. "They hate each other."
"Hate makes strange bedfellows when power is involved," Nana said sagely. Read the latest on freewebnovel
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"They took over the vampire council first," Reggie continued. "Eliminated opposition. Then the city government. Then they started... ’reorganizing society,’ as they call it."
"The humans," Blake said, thinking of the woman in the alley. "They’re feeding on them."
Reggie’s expression darkened. "They’ve turned humans into cattle. Blood banks on every corner. Mandatory ’donations.’ Registration. Rationing." His massive hands clenched into fists. "The resistance tries to help who we can, but..."
"Resistance?" Rose asked. "You’re part of it?"
"Founded it," Reggie said with grim pride. "Me, Dumphries, what’s left of the old ones. Trying to hold the line." He looked at Nana. "We’ve got safe houses. Underground networks. But we’re losing ground."
"And Randal?" Blake asked. "Where is he?"
Reggie’s expression darkened, his massive shoulders tensing. "Doing something stupid," he said quietly. "After Gunther died..." He trailed off, glancing at Celena, who was listening intently.
"I know Gunther’s gone," Blake said softly. The memory of his friend’s death was still fresh for him—though to everyone else, it had happened years ago. "I was there."
Reggie nodded grimly. "To us, you disappeared right after. Randal... he took it hard. Both of you gone..."
"Randal’s been tracking something," Nana interjected, her weathered hands wrapping around her mug. "Some artifact Salvador’s been hunting. Says it’s the key to everything."
"What artifact?" Rose asked, her arm tightening around Celena.
"He wouldn’t tell us," Reggie said. "For our protection. But he’s been gone nearly three months now. Checks in when he can, but..." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "The man’s on a mission. Nothing’s stopping him."
"But that’s not the discussion for now," Nana said firmly, her eyes softening as she looked at Celena nestled against Rose. "You have a daughter to reconnect with. The darkness will still be there tomorrow."
Blake nodded, grateful for Nana’s wisdom. He reached across the table to take Celena’s small hand. "Your nana’s right. Tell us more about you. Everything."
Celena looked up at her father, her eyes—so like his own—studying him with an intelligence that seemed beyond her years. "Will you stay this time?" she asked suddenly, the question cutting through the momentary warmth.
The directness of her question struck Blake silent for a moment. He glanced at Rose, who looked equally pained.
"Yes," he finally said, with all the conviction he could muster. "We’re home now. For good."
Celena seemed to consider this, then nodded once. "Good." She slipped from Rose’s lap and took Blake’s hand. "I want to show you my room. I have all your pictures there."
Blake rose, allowing himself to be led by his daughter. "I’d love to see it," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Rose started to follow, but Celena turned and said with surprising authority, "Just Daddy first. I’ll show you after, Mommy."
Rose blinked in surprise but nodded. "Of course, sweetheart."
Blake followed Celena up the familiar staircase, each step creaking exactly as he remembered. The upstairs hallway was lined with photographs—many of Celena at various stages of her accelerated growth, but also older ones of Rose and Blake, carefully preserved.
Celena’s room had once been a guest bedroom, but now bore unmistakable signs of a child transitioning to adolescence. One wall was covered with mathematical equations written directly on the pale blue paint. Another displayed artwork—surprisingly sophisticated landscapes and portraits that showed genuine talent. A bookshelf overflowed with volumes ranging from children’s picture books to advanced physics texts.
But what caught Blake’s attention was the corner she led him to—a shrine of sorts. Photographs of Blake and Rose covered a corkboard, interspersed with childish drawings of the three of them together. Beneath it sat a small table with two items: a leather jacket he had left behind, folded neatly, and a silver locket that had been Rose’s.
"I wear it sometimes," Celena said, touching the locket. "When I miss you extra much. Nana says it’s okay because you gave it to Mommy and Mommy would want me to have it."
Blake knelt beside her, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. "She would," he managed to say. "We both would."
Celena turned to face him fully, her expression suddenly serious. "I knew you weren’t dead," she said. "Everyone said you might be, but I knew. I could feel you." She tapped her chest. "Here. It was like... like a string. Connecting us."
Blake reached out, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. "I felt it too," he said softly. "Every moment."
"Did you fight monsters?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Blake nodded. "We did. To get back to you."
Celena’s small hand reached up to touch his face, her fingertips tracing a scar that hadn’t been there five years ago. "Did it hurt?"
"Yes," he answered honestly. "But thinking of you made me strong."
She nodded, as if this made perfect sense to her. Then, without warning, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. "I’m glad you’re home, Daddy," she whispered against his shoulder.
Blake held her tight, his eyes closing as he savored the moment he had fought so desperately to reach. "Me too, little one," he whispered back. "Me too."