Broken Heart 03 Because Your Vampire Said So by Michele Bardsley

love of God!” I wheeled around and glared at him. The people who had not yet revealed themselves backed up into the shadows. “Cut the crap, all right? I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m out.”
    “Huh. She doesn’t strike me as queenly,” said Zerina.
    “That’s enough, Zee,” snapped Gabriel. “She is the one named by the prophecy.”
    Oh, here we go again! I looked at Gabriel. “Y’know, I don’t understand anything that’s gone on since the day we met.”
    Wilson flopped onto one of the empty couches. He stared moodily at the fountain, pretending not to care. But he was listening. He was storing up every word spoken. I imagine he would have plenty to say about me and Gabriel.
    Zerina extracted a book from her pile. The cover sported a big, black wolf howling up at the moon. The title was Werewolves Are Real! by Theodora Maribelle Monroe.
    Brows raised, I looked at her.
    “Page twenty-three,” she said. “It’s book-marked. “
    I took the werewolf book and thumbed through the pages until I got to the right page. I read:
    Legend of the Loup de Sang
    In 1807, a small group of loup-garou immigrated from France to the town of Vincennes, the capital city in Indian Territory. In nine years, the area would become Indiana, the nineteenth state admitted to the Union.
    Among the new arrivals was the widow Chantelle Marchand, who was eight months pregnant. Destitute and in need of protection from those who’d killed her husband, Chantelle made the long, treacherous journey to the United States to live with her father, Jacques Marchand.
    Several years earlier, Marchand had come to the States and been among the first French traders to settle the area. He was the alpha of the local pack, and lived with his people in a community outside Vincennes.
    Not long after Chantelle arrived, a territorial dispute erupted among the loup-garou and the deamhan fola, or vampires (read more about these creatures in my book: Vampires Are Real!).
    One evening, the vampires viciously attacked the werewolves. The battle was intense and gruesome.
    Chantelle was among the casualties.
    As she lay dying, her father delivered a boy, whom they called Gabriel. Fortunately, Chantelle was able to see her son moments before she passed from the earthly plane. However, the newborn had been affected by the vampire’s attack on his mother.
    Translated from the diary of Jacques Marchand:
    I write these words with a heavy heart. My beloved Chantelle is dead, but the child I cut from her womb lives.
    He is an abomination. Yet I cannot bring myself to rid the world of this creature. It is the fault of the vampires. They took my daughter’s life and cursed my grandchild.
    Gabriel will not take milk. It is only by accident that I discovered his true sustenance: blood. He sleeps all day and stays up all night. Sunlight hurts him. Yet his heart beats. And he breathes.
    The vampire who killed Chantelle tried to Turn her. I know the laws of the Ancients: No vampire will feed upon the flesh of lycanthropes, nor mate with them, nor Turn them.
    By the time I arrived, the poison of the deamhan fola raced in my daughter’s veins. Killing him so quickly was a mistake. He should’ve suffered for his sins.
    Already whispers and rumors run through the pack about my grandchild, the loup de sang. Soon, they will call a Council and demand action. I am the alpha. I must do what is best for the pack.
    Marchand never again wrote about his grandchild, whom he called loup de sang, or blood wolf. To this day, rumors abound about Gabriel. Given that most werewolves live into their eight hundreds (and who knows how long loup de sang lived!), Gabriel is in the prime of his life.
    That is, if his grandfather did not kill him.
    I looked at Gabriel. “Is this true?”
    “Yes. It’s just like I told you before, Patricia. I was born into both worlds. And yet, I am not part of either one.”
    I shut the book. I couldn’t imagine running for your lives