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Yes, Philippe was looking forward to that as well, but only after his clan was safe.
Chapter Ten
Rafe followed Philippe into the park, his hands shoved into his pockets. His mind was torn. When he touched Philippe, when he had the vampire in his arms, the rest of the world fell away. There were no doubts or worries. No more politics or someone trying to destroy his family. Only Philippe’s smile and the calm, cool peace of those green eyes wiping everything away.
But the second he released him, the world came rushing back into focus. He worried about Edgar’s grave words that more and more vampires were gathering near the Variks. He worried he was allowing Philippe to cloud his judgment and put his brothers at risk. There was a part of him that wanted to run from Philippe, hand this stupid job off to Winter or Marcus. Let them deal with the turmoil that was the Arsenaults so he didn’t have to agonize over whether he was going to be the one guilty of destroying the Variks.
Yet, even as he had that thought, he knew he’d never let it happen. He’d never let Winter near Philippe if he could help it. Winter could be brutally impartial. His loyalty was always to the Variks.
What did that say about Rafe when even now he could feel himself being pulled in two directions?
His heart went out to Philippe and his fear for his clan.
When Aiden had made them all into vampires one hundred and seventy-six years ago, he spent what time he could teaching them about the new society they were attempting to enter. One of the strange cornerstones of that society was the clan.
For the most part, vampires were solitary creatures. Immortality did that. When everything else lived a much shorter time, vampires tended to stay away from anything so fragile.
But with humans so weak, that left them only their own kind to pick fights with.
To counter that, vampires created clans as a form of protection. Like the Variks, some vampires were born into clans, but most were exclusive, invitation-only affairs. Only the strongest, smartest, and most cunning were invited to join a clan.
Except for the Arsenaults.
It seemed that for Philippe, creating a clan wasn’t about strength but about forming a family. A safe haven.
“How many members are in the Arsenault clan?”
“Eleven now,” Philippe said softly.
Rafe frowned, figuring that Philippe was remembering the recently lost Erik and Sarah. Rafe simply couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose any of his brothers.
“You said…you said that all your clan members were outcasts or damaged in some way. Why?”
Philippe looked over at him, a small smile on his lips. “Why did I choose them?” His tone was slightly playful, and Rafe wasn’t quite sure how to read that. “Because I have no choice.”
Rafe stopped walking. “I don’t understand.”
A wind rushed through the park, rattling the barren tree limbs and sending dried leaves scattering in all directions. Lamps interspersed at regular intervals along the path threw down golden pools of light, but he and Philippe stood between the pools, embraced by the shadows.
“It’s my gift. My power.” Philippe’s smile became a little wry. “I can feel them. Sense where they are and that they need me. You may not realize this, but most unwanteds don’t survive their first year as a vampire. They’re hunted by their maker or other vampires for fun. Some commit suicide because they fear what they are and were never taught by their maker. The ones who survive, who learn to exist at least a little, are the ones I find. Ezra was the youngest I managed to save. He’d been a vampire for only a year when I was drawn to him. But most I can’t sense until they’ve been a vampire for four or five years.”
A cold, ugly sense of dread crawled into Rafe’s stomach and threatened to freeze the blood in his veins.
“How far away can you sense one?”
“Not far. A few miles.”
Rafe frowned and resumed walking through the park. “And you invite any you find into your clan?”
Philippe laughed and Rafe looked back over his shoulder at Philippe who was shaking his head at Rafe. “It’s never so easy. Most I find don’t trust me or my motives. It takes a lot of conversations to prove that I’m trustworthy. That the Arsenaults are trustworthy. And even then, I have to make sure the newcomer isn’t a danger to the rest of the clan.”
“And if you can’t recruit this poor soul?”
“Then we have to move.” Philippe’s smile slipped. “I can’t turn off the gift. What starts as a small buzzing in my brain becomes a screaming alarm after time. I become ill with it. We have to move if I can’t help the vampire, though usually it isn’t too far if we don’t wish to leave an area.”
