Tall, Dark & Lonely (Pyte/Sentinel #1)(3)

“Yes, I’m afraid that’s as close to the truth as we’ll ever get. I was holding a coming out ball for my youngest sister, Amy. My wife was restless with her confinement. Our two boys were asleep in the nursery and she desperately wanted to see Amy dance.”

“Understandable. Please continue.”

“Marc, what the hell is he?” Henry asked loudly. Ephraim ignored them.

“Shut up, Henry,” Marc said coldly.

“She…she….we….” his father’s voice cracked. Ephraim never once heard of his father crying. “We found the bastard bent over her body. She was so pale…and….and….”

“What?”

“He was feeding her his blood! She was drinking his blood!” his father whispered harshly.

Nichols didn’t say anything. “We chased the bastard off, but not soon enough. She went into labor…but she was dead. The boy just….he came…..the surgeon couldn’t understand it. He thought we were going to have to cut her.”

“I’m sorry. I’m rather confused. You said she was dead? I saw her myself in the village not a week after the boy’s birth. I was led to believe she died a few days later from complications.”

His father looked over his shoulder again. “We had to tell everyone that….truth is she woke up the next morning like nothing happened. She tried to take the boy. She was screaming nonsense. I had to throw her out, but she came back for the boy with him!”

Nichols cleared his throat. “I hate to ask, but is it possible the boy isn’t yours.”

“You mean did my wife cuckold me?” he asked bitterly. “I…I don’t know. He looks nothing like his brothers. I just don’t know and at that point it would have created a scandal for the boy to disappear and I was most certainly not going to send an innocent child with….oh god, she was dead I buried her myself….I…..do you think….”

Ephraim looked at his brothers. They were not handsome men by anyone’s standards. They looked so much like their father. They were as Mrs. Brown liked to say "womanly men." They had very feminine features. They were pretty boys some of the ladies said. A lot of women liked that, but Ephraim always secretly prayed that he wouldn’t look like them. He always found comfort in the fact that everyone told him that he didn’t look like them. The only thing they shared was their mother’s black hair.

He was always told that he looked like a “little man”. He was a rough little boy with a thick muscular frame unlike his brother’s much thinner frames. His startling blue eyes also set him apart. Could that have changed along with everything else? It seemed ridiculous even to him at the moment, but he didn’t want to look like a woman.

Nichols looked back at him and shook his head. “He doesn’t look like you or your other sons except for the black hair. Does he look like the men on his mother’s side or does he look like-”

“Him you mean?” His father made a sound of disgust.

“Yes.”

“He has a larger frame and different eyes but…I thought…I hoped he would look like us.” His father looked him over. “He looks like him. Do you think he’s contracted whatever ailed his mother then?”

“Yes, I think it’s a good chance the boy is diseased. If you truly are not the boy’s father then he most likely is insane as well. Tell me what happened to his mother?”

“What do you think we did? She was dead. We burned the bitch and her lover,” he said coldly. Ephraim’s breath caught.

“You’re not my father?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Both men slowly turned to stare at him. Their confused expressions turned horrified at the realization that he heard their entire whispered conversation. His father’s hand went to his chest as a collective gasp sounded throughout the large bed chamber.

“His eyes! They’re red!” Henry shouted.

“The devil!” A footman raised his weapon and backed up.

“Father? What’s going on?” Ephraim couldn’t hide the fear in his voice.

“Don’t call me that!” his father yelled. “You’re clearly not mine!”

“No, father, please!” Ephraim tried to sit up, but his restraints held him down.

“What do you want us to do with him?” Nichols asked.

His father shook his head. “I don’t care what you do with him. Just get him out of my sight.”

“Father?.....Father!” He watched his father and brothers hurry from the room. No one looked back at him. “Father, please!”

Nichols walked over to the bed, smiling. “Tie the chains around him and make sure he can’t get lose,” he ordered.

The footman hesitated coming any closer. “Now!” The men jumped and did as they were told. Ephraim could now move his arms and legs, but he was too weak to fight back.

“Please, sir, if you let me talk to my father…there’s been a mistake.” The men released the chains from the bed. In one smooth move they flipped him onto the floor, roughly. He felt the wind knocked out of him. They quickly wrapped the chains around his body tightly.

“Stop!” he screamed. It hurt. The chains were too tight, cutting off his air.

Nicholls bent in front of him. “I’m sorry, my boy. I realize this isn’t your fault, but you must realize the position you’ve put me in. I cannot have you running around feeding off people.” He shook his head. “No, that will never do.” He looked up at the men. “Take him to my estate and lock him in the dungeon.”