I came because you called me, only you know why you did.

Don’t be afraid, I won’t leave you alone.

The first thing to greet him when awareness returned was a voice. Familiar, safe, trusted. And forgotten, while only traces remained. When he opened his eyes to take in the room around him, someone called out.

“Lucian! Are you awake? Stay still honey, I’ll grab a nurse.” This voice wasn’t the same, although he couldn’t quite pin down why. It took a few blinks to adjust to the light, and he tried to clear some of the fog in his head. The room was empty of people, aside from him which made him think the person had been speaking to him. They’d said ‘Lucian’. Did that mean he was Lucian? It sat oddly, as if it didn’t quite fit him. But it was familiar enough that the conclusion didn’t seem wrong.

The look around the room told him that he was in a hospital, the equipment around and on him told him that it’d been bad. All of the noises began to get to him, the high pitched beeps the worst. The voice had been concerned he might try and move, but everything was either stiff or connected to so many monitors that any movement would have been a huge undertaking. As the fog in his head bothered him more than his body, not moving was fine.

It wasn’t long before the owner of the voice returned with a group of people. They were the nurses for this area, as well as his doctor. Through all of the questions and checks, he learned a decent amount.

His name was Lucian Beech.

The woman was his mother, Kristine Falken.

He was lucky to be alive, and had been in a coma for ten days.

His cat, Tater Tot, had been difficult to convince to leave the room. Actually, it had been impossible, but the cat stayed on the floor beside the bed. When he looked down, there was indeed a cat there to look back at him. A big one, he could see why they would have had trouble moving him.

This information began to open up memories. As they came in, they seemed to clash with each other. The same scene from two sides. Lucian could clearly recall when he’d gotten home, after Tater Tot’s vet appointment. His mother had dropped the two off before she’d gone to finish some shopping she wanted to do. The big cat had refused to enter the house, and had begun to yowl once Lucian had opened the door.

The blood underneath his feet had been tacky, but not fully dried and still shone red. The shapes in the puddles confused him at first, as the metallic smell of blood mixed with the scent of something else, but soon familiar traits appeared.

The smell was so nice, the smell of liberation.

They were his siblings. His family was strewn about in the entrance way and up the stairs. And then he heard his baby sister cry out. It had been an odd reaction for a thirteen year old, but he hadn’t run out of the house. Lucian had run further in, up the stairs and to the nursery. The blood clung just enough to his shoes that he could feel as it resisted his movements, just enough to sear the sensation into his mind. Everything was painted red, and he probably had been as well.

The red was beautiful. The red was a lingering proof of their work.

Yet all of that almost appeared normal compared to what waited outside of the nursery. It was vaguely humanoid, ink black and disjointed. There was a quality to the form that seemed to shift around, parts changing on a whim, and it was filled with utter hatred. Blood dripped down from its hands, four long fingers were coated with it and left no doubt that this thing was the one who had done it all. Right now it stood in front of his sister’s room, as if it needed to decide how it would kill the baby. At barely one year old, she was so small.

So very tiny, not much fun to be had there. But they’d think of a way. The last of the bloodline.

Lucian’s body moved on its own, but he knew he wouldn’t have changed course even if he’d thought it through. The thing wasn’t directly in her doorway, there was enough space that Lucian could get passed. If he managed to, he could try and protect his sister.

“Lucian?” His mother called his name softly, which mercifully broke the chain of memories that had begun to unfold in his head. Now that he was more aware, it was as if he could feel every bit of his wounds. Two slashes in the front to the side, a mostly missed blow. Four gashes across his back, left shoulder to right hip. A blow that didn’t miss.

He looked over at his mother and felt an odd disconnect. There was the expected love there, but it seemed somewhat distant. Lucian did feel one thing keenly, without any of the weird distance. Desperation.

“Anne-Marie? How is Anne-Marie?” His sudden switch to a near panicked state set off one of the machines. The pain in his head was incredible, and it forced his arms up to use his hands to block what he could of the high pitch alarm. One of the nurses had been nearby the monitor in question, and the alarm was turned off mercifully quick. That had hurt.

“She’s fine, Anne-Marie is fine.” His mother shoved passed the doctor to be at his side, and she lifted his hands from his ears. “It’s okay, honey. Just stay calm all right? We don’t want your stitches to rip, do we?” She moved a hand to brush back his hair, and assumed that he had calmed down from her comfort. But there had been only one thing that had calmed him.

Anne-Marie is fine.

***

There were a few things Lucian learned about himself over the previous two years. The most glaring thing was that he was no longer just human. In reality, that was also the cause of most of his problems. Not that he cared to make a tally of everything wrong with him. It was unavoidable every October 15^th, when it got thrown in everyone’s face, but every other day he worked hard to just be human. To push aside the monster and pretend.

He had noticed that, every so often, his mother would watch him closely. While he only had a rough idea of what she looked for, he didn’t feel the need to ask why she’d upped her vigilance. After all, he was sure to find out at some point. Kristine loved her son, he knew that, but he sometimes had difficulty believing it.

His cat, a large tricolour Maine Coon, had also watched him closer since the incident. This Lucian didn’t mind, as the cat had a way to keep him balanced. Tater’s watch wasn’t to guard others, but to help him remain stable. To have one thing in the house that loved him who he could also talk to about anything? It was probably the only reason he stayed sane. The big cat went everywhere with him now, and waited outside of places when he wasn’t allowed in. Which was a lot of places. Lucian knew his cat wasn’t normal, there was no way, but it was never spoken of.

At the moment, Lucian had just finished class. While other students might linger with friends or rush to their bus, Lucian rejoined Tater Tot outside. The cat purred and rubbed against him in his usual greeting, so Lucian crouched down to give him a scratch as his usual greeting. It drew looks from new students, but those who knew him simply said bye. No one tried to stop him as he and his cat walked off, as it was fairly well known what the teenager was off to do. His path didn’t take him to the bus stop, not yet at any rate. Instead, he walked to the nearby daycare where Anne-Marie was. When their mother left for work mid-morning until Lucian finished school mid-afternoon, the toddler stayed there.

The workers knew that, while Kristine dropped her daughter off, Lucian always picked her up. He was even the secondary contact for his sister. Which meant when the tiny girl started her happy jog to her brother, no one was concerned. She had just turned three and, despite her smaller than normal size, Anne-Marie was fairly coordinated. With the glaring exceptions of dropping objects and having no brakes. As only one of those applied here, Lucian crouched down to catch her. Or let her run into him as a way to stop. Either or.

He knew which daycare workers were gossips, which were genuinely kind and which pitied him. What had happened to him and his family had been big news at the time, after all. The gossips he didn’t mind, or the ones that were concerned about how adult he seemed. The ones that bothered him were the ones open about their pity. Whereas the concerned group was that way because they worried about how much responsibility he had with Anne-Marie alone – no fifteen-year-old should raise a toddler in their minds – the pity didn’t stem from the same place. Those that tended to pity him and his family believed it beyond repair. That it was something that had ruined him in some way, or that his mother would never recover from it. They were broken things to be cared for, as they’d never be able to themselves. Never be happy. Which Lucian would never allow, for Anne-Marie’s sake.

“We’ll teach you how to stop one day.” Lucian laughed as he picked his sister up, as he knew from experience that she wasn’t going to let go of him until they reached home or had iced cream. As it was fall, that meant home. “Did you have fun, Anne-Marie?” It was a standard question at pick up time, but he always asked it. Usually while he went to the door to grab her things.

“Yes.” Anne-Marie nodded her head as she said the word carefully. She was both small and not as good of a speaker as some of the other children in the daycare. It made her feel like she had fallen behind. There was no problem with where she was, but she tried hard. Lucian helped her while he ensured that she understood she was doing well. A tricky balance to strike, but he’d gotten more adept at toddler care. “I made Luci!”

“Oh? How did you make me?” He smiled at the woman who waited for him in the entrance. As usual, it was Lacy. She was a sweet woman around the same age as his mother, and Anne-Marie liked her.

“She made macaroni art today.” Lacy handed him his sister’s bag and showed him the little macaroni ‘Luci’. It was an odd little statue, and it looked only half there. It was bad even for Anne-Marie.

“What happened to me?” He slung the strap of her bag over his shoulder, one of the two reasons he always used a messenger style bag. The other one was the fact that things hitting his scars could be quite painful.

“Tripped.” Anne-Marie sounded slightly sad, as if she mourned the loss of her art, before her voice went back to normal. “Luci day?”

“How was Luci’s day, or how was your day. Not just Luci day.” The correction was said automatically due to her desire to speak better. He waited for her to nod that she understood, even if he doubted that, before he answered the question. He wasn’t that strict about her sticking to proper grammar, he just worked on basic structure at the moment. “My day was fine, just normal things.”

“No fun?” Anne-Marie asked her question as he said bye to Lacy, so he didn’t answer right away. She waited, she knew he would say something.

“Well, the day is still here and now I’m spending it with you. So I wouldn’t say there’s no fun today.” He’d tried before to explain that his school was different than her daycare, but it hadn’t lasted long and he hadn’t tried again. “Now, what do you want for dinner?”

“Cake.” The answer was quick and confident, and utterly ridiculous.

“No, no cake for dinner. But maybe I can bake one tonight for tomorrow’s dessert. What do you think of eggs?” He watched her face scrunch as she thought. She always seemed to think so hard. Even if breakfast for dinner was one of her favourite things.

“Eggs okay. Bacon?”

“Sure, we can have bacon and eggs.” He could tell she was pleased but was trying to be grown up, in her toddler way, and not seem excited. If he timed it right, he could have it ready for their mother to get home. Then her dinner wouldn’t be cold. The only problem was how hungry Anne-Marie might be. She varied, and he’d cook as many times as he needed before he let her stay too hungry. She could wait most of the time, but sometimes she needed more food. He assumed it was because she was actively growing.

The rest of the trip home consisted of Anne-Marie informing Lucian of her thoughts on everything they passed. It was what she usually did, so he had no problems with how the conversation jumped around. Toddlers didn’t have the best attention span after all.

***

It had been so long that he couldn’t recall exactly when he’d gotten there. Why he’d gone there to begin with. He couldn’t understand much more than the instructions given to him by the Voice.

Kill this, intimidate that, learn the weakness of one, wipe out another.

He hated the Voice, but he couldn’t leave and they were the only thing he understood anymore. But he was bored. Intimidation was fun, but he never got to enjoy the fear left behind. And it was so easy.

Take that moment, for instance. He looked down to the mess at his feet. It cried and cried and cried. Nothing had happened yet! Just one lousy leg had been lost. Not like it had been using the thing. He turned the torn limb around in his hands before he chucked it to the side. When he’d discovered gaps he could exploit in the instructions the Voice gave him, he’d thought things would get better. They did, for a while, but he didn’t want to scare this thing. No, what he wanted was to strike terror into the Voice. Make it regret holding him there, make it the perfect meal for later. A goal to aspire to.

The long, wiry black limbs that made up his body bent around themselves to let him go to the thing’s eye level. It pleaded with him, and it looked strange as it leaked from its openings. Maybe he’d leave, after all what did he care? Oh, wait. It was supposed to be found. Well, that might be fun. He reached into the thing and made himself a hold as he stood and took it with him. Nothing the mess wouldn’t survive.

But it wouldn’t be quiet. It screamed and screamed. Which hurt more and more. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. There was a way to make the thing shut up. It always worked. He lifted the thing to find its sound hole and then opened his mouth. The bite down stopped the sound right away and, as the thick liquid filled his mouth, he was quite content.

And violently ill.

Lucian didn’t scream as he jolted awake. No, he rolled off the bed to the concerned meows of Tater Tot and made it to the bathroom before he threw up. It wasn’t far, as his mother had given him the master bed and thus the master bath as well, and he found more and more reasons to be happy about that. He didn’t stop until he had both nothing left to bring up and the taste of blood had left his mouth. A less than stellar effort into cleaning up occurred once he was finished, and Lucian sat slumped against the side of the shower.

What the hell was that?

Too potent to be just a nightmare, yet too unfamiliar to be a memory. He didn’t seek any help, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It was, in fact, the second. Yet he’d learned not to make a fuss for things, that screaming or crying wouldn’t help.

This second nightmare was different from the first, which had been different from his regular nightmares. And that was with his skewed understanding of what was a dream and what was a nightmare. He had no idea what they were, and he hoped he didn’t have enough of them to find out.

When Lucian began to shake, Tater Tot let out a sympathetic meow. He was exhausted, clammy and afraid. The blood had felt real. In fact, the only reason he could be sure it hadn’t been real was that he hadn’t thrown it up. He kept his eyes shut tight and waited for it to pass. It had to pass.

Breathe, Lucian. Ground yourself and remain stable.

The voice was familiar, and his eyes snapped open at the words. It was the same calm, male voice he had heard when he’d woken up in the hospital. There had been only one other time it had shown up, and Lucian had no idea who or what it was. He instinctively listened to authority in the voice, and his head did begin to feel a bit better.

Good. You will have more help than you think. I believe his name is Useless.

That was odd. His cat was named Tater Tot, who was this Useless? And what an unflattering name. A glance around the bathroom showed nothing at first. It was when his eyes returned to in front of him that anything had changed. There, at his feet, was a small dragon. It didn’t seem to be solid, but it sat on Tater Tot’s head. A ghost?

The small creature was kind of adorable, and at first he thought the dragon was gold. When he looked closer, Lucian realized that it – no, he, according to the voice – was more various yellows and browns that would be found in a desert, but gold did suit him if you didn’t get too complicated about it. The dragon looked up at him happily and expectantly.

“Are you…Useless?” His question made it chirp, do a little dance on Tater’s head – which the cat was less than impressed with – and Useless hopped onto one of his knees. There was definitely weight there, but when he tried to touch the dragon it felt odd. His hand didn’t quite go through, but it was also clear that there wasn’t any actual mass there. So, Useless was a tiny spectral dragon.

Still, when the little thing crawled up to his shoulder, there was a comforting presence there. Useless settled against his cheek and a warmth seemed to come from him. Warmth wasn’t quite right if Lucian thought solely on temperature, though. No, this little dragon gave off comfort and a strange, but familiar, love. Tater Tot wormed his way into his lap, and the soft rumbling from both lulled Lucian back to sleep. Only this time, he didn’t dream at all.

***

The last few days had been rough. While he hadn’t suffered the same level of nightmares, he certainly hadn’t had good dreams. Useless had stuck around, although no one else could see or interact with the dragon. Which was for the best, and allowed Lucian to have a companion with him at all times. Between Useless and Tater Tot, he had more support than he’d had in years. Yet the days were still some of the hardest he’d experienced.

His moods had been unpredictable, and only his sheer amount of practice had allowed him to remain in control of himself. But that was worn thin, and Lucian had chosen to take Anne-Marie to the park. Children didn’t bother him in a way that’d cause potential problems and he had been too sensitive to sounds for him to do his normal relaxation method. The piano keys could soothe him or, as they did right now, cause him pain and headaches. Which meant that when his little sister wanted to go play, he’d been fine to take her.

It was a Saturday, so the park was somewhat full. Lucian positioned himself on a bench at the edge of the little playground where he could see his sister wherever she went. Distance wasn’t much of a problem for him over all, but he sat close enough that he could move within normal, human speeds. Every so often Anne-Marie would look over to him and wave, and he always returned it. That usually earned him a goofy smile and then she went back to playing with whoever she decided was her new friend.

When their mother showed up to sit beside him, he wasn’t surprised. He’d sent a text about where they would be, and it wasn’t unusual for Kristine to join them when done her errands. “Mother. Groceries finished?”

“Yes, we have milk again.” She sat silently with him for a few minutes as they watched Anne-Marie. “You seem to be doing well.” No, he hadn’t been, but he wasn’t about to argue that with her. He also knew why she brought it up – October 15^th was fast approaching.

“I’m fine, nothing unusual.” Which wasn’t quite a lie. Lucian often felt awful, but this was more extreme he supposed. He had no desire to talk about it with his mother, however.

“That’s good. I want to talk to you about something when we get home.” He stifled a sigh at her comment. That was never good. The recovery from his injuries had taken a long time, and had seemingly delayed him in other ways. She had watched him for signs of puberty for a while now. Lucian wasn’t sure what she expected from him there. He knew he was fine, just because he didn’t share everything did not mean it didn’t happen. It didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed things himself, either.

But it wasn’t as if he could explain his thoughts to his doctor or his mother. He figured he was doing things differently because of whatever it was that had attacked him. That had changed him. He had more trouble with those aspects than his teenage hormones. His doctor would assume he was crazy, and his mother would react poorly. Which, in reality, would be an understatement. That wasn’t something he was willing to do to himself.

“I’m sure we’ll have time at some point. You aren’t in a rush, right?”

“Not quite, Lucian. Not yet. I’m happy with how things are going with you.”

“What do you mean?” He had the feeling he wouldn’t like this, but she would tell him whether he asked or not.

“Well, the past year has been pretty smooth, don’t you think?” She paused and smiled at him, unaware of how her words made his mood sour. “There have been no slip ups since last October, you seem to have control over it.”

“Do you think so?” Lucian kept his voice at its normal even and quiet tone. His thoughts weren’t as quiet – if everything was fine then why the nightmares? Why the horrible experience of the other night? Why did he have to fight down thoughts and urges every day?

Steady. Breathe.

He followed the instructions from that voice as if by habit. It was strange how he trusted this unknown voice in his mind more than the voice of his mother beside him.

She does what she can, but the situation is beyond her ability to handle.

That was true. Many would have killed him, or at least tossed him onto the street. But despite the monster inside of him, Kristine would stand between him and the world. That she also made sure she and Anne-Marie were safe was a trade off he would never refuse.

“I do, sweetie, I do.” As she went on about how pleased she was with how perfectly human he was, his mother had no clue how precarious her safety was. It was a bitter pill for him to swallow, but if that voice hadn’t been in his head or if Useless and Tater Tot hadn’t sat on his feet, Lucian knew he would have snapped. That part of him that was monster wanted her to shut up, to stop insinuating there was something wrong with him. As if he didn’t already know that. Yet his gaze never left his sister, and he stood before the sound of her cries reached him.

The toddler had slipped in a muddy patch made from another child’s accident with their water bottle. That had seemed like such fun to other children that they deliberately made the spot larger. He was behind her a bit too quickly for a normal person, but no one seemed to notice.

“And what happened to you?” He smiled as he reached under her small arms and lifted her upright. The little girl hiccupped as her tears turned to laughter at his familiar voice.

“I’m the mud queen!”

“Oh my, royalty. What should I call you?” At his comment Anne-Marie laughed louder and wriggled her arms and legs in the air as he lifted her higher. Mud splashed off of her, and she seemed so thrilled that Lucian laughed himself.

“Little Bean!”

“Little Bean, Queen of the Mud.” He turned her to him and ignored the mud as he held her in his arms. “That’s quite the title, little lady.”

“Luci, we have iced cream?” She threw her arms around him as best she could.

“Can we have iced cream.” Another automatic, but casual correction. “And not until after supper. That’s dessert.”

“Boo.” She gave him what he could only assume was some kind of huff, even though it had ended up more her blowing little bubbles. His steps back to the bench paused briefly as a thought hit him. He adored this little girl – both the human and the monster would do anything for her. The thought lingered oddly as he resumed his movements.

“I’ve got her bag.” Kristine smiled at her children and they began the walk home. “I’m glad you’re here, Lucian. I don’t think I could have made her smile without doing anything at all. I’m jealous sometimes.”

“What?” He was genuinely surprised by her words.

“She may be my little girl, but if you are there Anne-Marie will go to you one hundred percent of the time. I think she likes you more than me.” Her tone was obviously teasing, and he smiled as Anne-Marie responded to it with a laugh. While she had no idea about the conversation, her mother’s tone had let her know it was a fun one.

“I love Luci!” Her tiny arms went around his neck as she beamed at him.

“I love you too, bean. A small scoop of iced cream then.” The unexpected prize earned him a giggle from his sister and a laugh from his mother.

“I’d warn you not to spoil her, but it wouldn’t do any good. Not that you do, but I doubt I could stop you if you wanted to.” She stepped close to give him a half hug before she moved a bit away so they could continue the walk. “We’re lucky to have you.”

***

Lucian closed the door to his room softly behind him. The day had felt long, as his thoughts had been filled with something that had nagged at him since the park. While he’d spent the time as normal as possible, he’d tried to sort out what it was. When he did, he had been surprised.

Anne-Marie loved him, and he loved Anne-Marie. Him. Not the Lucian from before. That would be impossible, as she hadn’t been old enough. The one she loved was him, the Lucian from after. The person he was now, with both of his natures. That little girl he adored loved him.

The knock was unexpected, but he opened the door to see his mother. She smiled at him and handed over a photograph. “I know you love photos of the family, you’re always taking them. But that means you’re never in them. So I took this one today, thought you’d like it.”

He took the photograph and looked at it. It was him and Anne-Marie, the moment when he’d had her in the air. They were both laughing, and mud flew off of her feet. Lucian looked up at his mother. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Good night.” Kristine hesitated before she reached and patted his cheek. Then she was gone, and he closed the door. Alone again, aside from Tater Tot and Useless. He set the photo on his nightstand, grateful that his mother had taken it, and then looked to the cat and dragon.

“What do you two think? Can I do it?” Thankfully, his two companions seemed to understand. Not that he got many answers out of them. Since he woke in the hospital, there was something in the back of his mind. A hint of ability he steadfastly ignored. He was aware enough about himself to know that some of his urges and inclinations were not human. Not even close. In fact, every October 15th made it clear he was a predator and that he didn’t have to look human.

But he’d never taken the step to let himself change, to call it forward from the place where it was tucked away. He’d never felt that he should. Yet, what if he was wrong? It might help tell him what or who he was.

He wasn’t the human child.

He wasn’t the monster.

He wasn’t both of them at the same time.

So what was he? He moved to the master bath, as that was where the only large mirror he had sat. It was turned against the wall most of the time, so he righted it before he took his shirt off. He never looked too long at his scars, even though the worst ones were on his back. Those took a lot of effort to see, while the two across his abdomen took effort to avoid. But they were part of him, of that defining moment that changed everything about him. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and pulled forward that hint of something.

It wasn’t painful to feel things shift, but he couldn’t say it felt nice either. His arms stayed at his sides, since he had to be careful with how dangerous his hands might be. When he could tell everything that would change had changed, he opened his eyes to look in the mirror.

The eyes that met his were a yellowish gold, the pupils slits that contracted as they adjusted to the light. To his limited knowledge, they seemed similar to a cat’s or fox’s. They certainly moved the same.

His jaw was different, and it took a minute to understand why. The lower jaw had shifted to accommodate the slightly longer but much sharper teeth that now filled his mouth.

It was his hands that had the most blatant change. Eyes could be missed, as could his jaw and teeth. These could not be missed. His fingers and thumbs were elongated. They followed the same human shape, but they ended in a prominent point that lacked any nail. The entire length of each finger was covered in black skin that, when it hit his knuckle, began to disperse into freckle like areas until it vanished entirely.

He simply looked for a while and took in the changes. How they felt, what they looked like. A tentative and light tap on the counter that held the sink showed just how dangerous those claws were when a small hole was made immediately, with no effort at all.

This was what he was. He may have had no idea what any of it actually meant, but this was his reality. His dual nature. It was odd, and confusing, but he felt as if this was the start of something. The start of acceptance.

“Nice to meet you, Lucian.”