The Bentley was not at the gate.
Aaron walked up the long driveway alone. The sky was gray. Late afternoon light fell soft through the clouds. His skin tingled but did not burn. The front door of the mansion was slightly open.
That was wrong.
Mr. Aldridge never left doors open. He was precise. Careful. Fifty-three years of service had made him obsessed with locks and latches.
Aaron slowed his steps. His hearing sharpened.
Voices. Inside. Loud. Angry.
He moved closer. Stopped near the large oak door. Listened.
---
"So, Ashley. You were here. You think you could hide from me? How long did you think you could hide?"
The voice was a man's. Deep. Old. Not weak old. Strong old. The kind of voice that expected obedience.
His mother's voice answered. Sharp. Defensive.
"I did not want to hide. But you wanted me to marry someone else. I loved Aryan."
"You!" The man's voice cracked. Not just anger. Pain. "You! How do you think we lived without you? We thought you died. You did not send a letter. You did not call."
"If I had not seen that magazine of pharmaceutical companies, I would never have found out about your life. And you were married to this man."
A woman's voice now. Also old. Also strong. But colder.
His mother spoke again. "I do not have time for this. My son is still at school."
Aaron pushed the door open.
---
The foyer was bright. Crystal chandelier throwing light across marble floors. Two strangers stood near the staircase. His mother faced them, her back straight, her hands clenched at her sides.
The strangers were a couple. Tall. Both of them. The man had silver hair swept back from a sharp face. His eyes were pale gray. His clothes were dark blue, tailored, with gold buttons and a high collar that looked almost formal.
Almost look like royal. The woman was equally tall. Her hair was black streaked with white, pulled into a tight bun. Her dress was deep green with silver embroidery. She wore gloves. White silk.
They did not look like ordinary wealthy people. They looked like something older. Their aura pressed against the room. Heavy. Ancient. Powerfu vibe l.
Aaron's senses screamed. These were not normal humans.
He spoke loudly before anyone could react.
"Mom! Mr. Aldridge did not come today. What happened?"
Three heads turned.
His mother's face shifted. Anger faded. Worry took its place. "Aaron. You are home early."
"The butler was late. I got a ride."
The old couple stared at him. The man's gray eyes measured Aaron from head to toe. The woman's mouth parted slightly. Her gloved hand rose to her chest.
"Aaron, go to your room now." His mother's voice was firm. "We will talk later."
Aaron looked at the couple. The man met his eyes. Something flickered there. Recognition? Curiosity? He could not tell.
He nodded to them. A polite greeting without words. Then he walked quickly up the stairs.
Behind him, the woman spoke.
"You! You even had a son. How does he live in this place?"
Her voice was sharp. Disapproving. She pointed a gloved finger at Ashley.
---
Aaron reached his room. Closed the door. Stood still.
His hearing stayed sharp. The voices continued downstairs.
"You had a son and you kept him from us."
"He is my son. Mine and Aryan's."
"He is our blood. "
Aaron listened. The names meant nothing to him. tension in his mother's voice was real. Fear. Old fear.
Then footsteps on the stairs.
Light steps. Soft soles on hardwood. Someone was coming up.
A knock on his door.
"Aaron? Aaron, dear. Open the door."
The old woman's voice. Calmer now. Almost gentle.
"Who is it?" he called.
"Your grandmother. Open the door."
Aaron hesitated. Then stood. Walked to the door. Opened it.
---
The woman stood in the hallway. Up close, she was even more striking. Her skin was smooth despite her white-streaked hair. Her green eyes were bright. Unnaturally bright. Her smile was warm but her presence was heavy. Like standing near a furnace.
She looked at him. Her eyes moved across his face. His shoulders. His hands. She inhaled slowly.
"You have it," she said softly.
"Have what?"
"The blood. I can smell it. Faint but there. Something old woke up in you."
Aaron said nothing. His body tensed.
She laughed. It was a light laugh. Genuine. "Do not look so scared, grandson. I am not here to harm you. I am Jasmine. Jasmine Heth. Your mother's mother."
She stepped forward. Aaron stepped back. She entered his room without permission. Sat on the edge of his bed. Folded her gloved hands in her lap.
"Sit," she said. "Tell me everything. What happened to you?"
---
Downstairs, the argument continued.
"Let her go," the old man said. "I also want to talk to my grandson. But you answer my question first, Ashley. When were you going to come back? After our death?"
His mother's voice broke. "What? How could immortals die? You have immortal bodies. Like the ancestors. How could you die? Do not joke with me."
Her father's voice softened. "Ashley..."
"You know I did not have abilities like yours. That is why you let me go. Otherwise, how could I escape from your castle?"
"Ashley!" So what if you did not inherit the abilities of the bloodline? You know you had abilities of a wizard. We did not find that secret book. When we found that book, he demanded to marry you. Razor adg. I did not know about it. You were against the marriage. You could have told me. " The old man was silent for a long moment. Then his voice came out rough. Cracked.
"Father... I... Please forgive me."
Aaron heard movement. Fabric rustling. Footsteps. Then silence.
When the old man spoke again, his voice was thick. "There is nothing to forgive. You were right to run. I failed you. Not the other way."
A sob. His mother's sob.
..
Upstairs, Jasmine Heth was laughing.
"And then what did you do?"
Aaron found himself smiling. He had not expected this. The old woman was strange. Intense. But her laugh was real. Her questions were curious, not threatening.
"You are handling it well," she said. "The awakening. The thirst. The changes. Most would break."
"What is our family?"
She smiled. "Later. That is a long story. You should go downstairs now. Your mother needs you."
They stood. Walked to the door together. Aaron opened it.
In the hallway, his mother and the old man were climbing the stairs. Ashley's eyes were red. Wet. The old man held her hand. His own eyes glistened.
They stopped when they saw Aaron and Jasmine.
"Ah," Jasmine said. "The crying is done. Good. Now we can all talk properly."
The old man looked at Aaron. His gray eyes were kind now. The hardness from before was gone.
"So. This is my grandson."
Aaron nodded. "Sir."
"Sir? No. Grandfather. Or Eldric. Your choice."
Aaron looked at his mother. She nodded. Tired but calm.
"Grandfather," Aaron said.
Eric smiled. It was a small smile. But real.
---
They went downstairs together. Four people now. Not three. Something had shifted. The anger was gone. What remained was old pain and new possibility.
His mother sat close to her father. Jasmine sat beside Aaron.
"Where is Mr. Aldridge?" Aaron asked.
"I gave him the day off," Ashley said. "I sensed them coming. I did not want witnesses."
"Sensed?"