Prince's/King's Consort Bonus Chapters

"Have you fallen from his grace?"

"No!" she said almost too loudly, then quieted her tone. "No, I- there's a lot going on over here, and he's been preparing his guard for your arrival. I will volunteer myself to go with her... master."

"You've done well, these last few months. I'm so glad we could have such an amicable relationship, Marianne. Your boys, too, such a treat." She heard the dark chuckle in his throat and swallowed hard. "Before you leave, call me back with the roster. I look forward to speaking with you again, luv." The line died, and she could finally breathe.

Marianne's hands were shaking violently as she tried to keep hold of the receiver. She remained in the closet for a long moment before easing out of the darkness and hanging up the phone. Kalen would kill her, if he knew.

And Caitlin?

She couldn't bear the thought of giving her up to the King. But in that, she had no other choice. Her boys would die, if she refused. Her only children sacrificed to a silent war that was not theirs to die in. Marianne, shrouded in grief, stiffened as she came up with a plan of her own.

She, alone, was responsible for telling the King who would be in the city. If she just so happened to forget that Caitlin's brother, Sara, also came along, it was not her own fault. She was growing older, and memory often slipped, didn't it?

Marianne shook off the last of her nerves and stood, gritting her teeth. There was so slim a chance, but it was a chance she would gladly take, even if she risked her own life. She just hoped her boys would not suffer the consequences of her actions.

***

Caitlin didn't speak for a long moment, smoothing down her long dress and appreciating the awkward silence, as it only served to further her point. She eyed her mother, then her brother, seated across from her in the front room. Janice appeared nervous, while Sara looked rather indifferent, seeming unaffected by human inclinations any longer, though there was a trace of remorse in his eyes.

This conversation was a long time coming, and she'd rather be finished with it sooner rather than later. "So, when were either of you going to tell me?"

Neither spoke for a moment. Janice, though, shifted in her seat, breaking first with a streak of defiance. "I wasn't. You're a Stone, and that's that."

"But I'm not just a 'Stone', mom." Caitlin took a steadying breath. "I'm also a-"

"That sperm donor, had nothing to do with you. He refused to acknowledge your existence, then shuffled off just as quickly as he could. No offense, Sara."

Sara shook his head.

"It's not his fault for dying. And I'm not saying he was a good person, but-" Caitlin glanced fleetingly over at her brother, whose face broke as if he smelled something distasteful. "I had a right to know. And I still do."

Janice, too, glanced to Sara. "Then ask your brother. I've told you what I can remember."

"Not hardly. Amandine restored your memories, didn't she? What did you see?"

It was then her mother turned away, staring at the far wall as if in deep contemplation. "It wouldn't do any good." She turned her face back, her eyes brimming with tears. "You don't have the slightest clue what it was like with Abraham. The thinks I had to see, the things his... followers did? Despicable. Even so many years later, I still can't- Please, Caitlin, just let this old woman keep her secrets. I promise, it wouldn't help to know."

Caitlin offered her an apologetic smile, then tilted her head. "You're not an old woman, mom. I... understand why you don't want to say." Her hand absently rubbed the scar on her wrist, that old knot from Eamon's teeth still itched on occasion. "I just- I have no one else to ask. You two are the only connection I have to my father. To- my lineage."

Sara, for the first time in this conversation, eased upright in his seat. "Caitlin." He shook his head. "Father was a monster."

"Of the human variety, I take it?" A wry smile broke over her face. "Sorry."

Sara scoffed, then nodded. "He died when I was ten. Eamon came back, said father got away with too much. Used 'his sciences' against him. I was there."

"He killed him? Right in front of you?"

"Yes."

Janice's eyes widened. "I'm so sorry, Sara."

Sara shook his head again, then eased back in his seat as if he wouldn't say more.

"Did... he leave any of his notes? His work?"

Her brother only shrugged.

Caitlin, as Queen, was more interested in the survival of such sensitive information. It would be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands. "Did it all get destroyed?"

Neither moved for a moment, as if they didn't know.

"Wouldn't he have kept something aside? Something safe, far away from the King?" She rattled off the questions as if they, themselves, would provide the answer she sought. "Sara, you were under him the longest, then beneath Gabriel, after that. Did either of them mention anything about keeping an extra copy of his records? Wouldn't father have thought it through?"

Janice's face hardened at the word 'father', but she didn't say anything.

Sara shook his head, then ducked a hand in his jean pocket. "He gave me this."

A small, silver key was flicked her way by thick fingers. She caught it without too much trouble, then turned it over in her hand. It had the number 215 imprinted on it. "What's it to?"

Sara shrugged. "He said 'just in case'."

"Looks to be a locker key," Janice piped in. "He must have hidden something as a contingency, knowing that the King was after him. Where did he give it to you, Sara?"

"Bunker," was all he said, then he pursed his lips shut.

"That place is long gone, though. Mom, you said he'd been in the city when you met him, right?"

"Yes," Janice said, "And actually, his hideout wasn't too far from that building Kalen owns."

Caitlin began to formulate a plan of action. With Kalen's army, his coffers, and his staff at her disposal, she had more than a fleeting chance at finding the lock to Sara's key. Janice looked spent after a day on the farm and her interrogation.

Caitlin glanced to Sara. "Can I keep this for a while?" Her brother nodded, and she smiled. "If I find something, do you want to know what it is?"

It was Sara's turn to smile, and he did, exposing strong teeth, then shook his head.

"Right." Caitlin stood from her seat, her belly giving her some trouble, but not enough to make them run to her aid. "I guess I'll find out, myself."

*

After a week, thousands of dollars, dozens of inquiries, hours of Elsie and Mia hitting the pavement, and several sleepless days, Caitlin finally stood in front of the flaking, green-painted locker in the central subway station of the city. The throng of humans did not let up, so she had come to this place in the endless flow of pedestrians, her guards flanking either side. It was a bit of a spectacle, but not enough to warrant too much attention.

If Sara had accompanied her, on the other hand, that would not have been the case.

She held the little silver key, gripping tightly to its round fingerhold with shaking hands. Elsie was keeping watch of their back while she and Mia stood facing locker 215. Whatever was inside this innocuous metal box may very well giver her an answer to her father's sordid past. Did she want to know? Or was it better to remain in the dark, as Sara wanted?

She didn't have the luxury of knowing their father like he did, though, and wondered if this would give her peace of mind, or create more questions.

Mia shifted next to her, looking more than a little impatient. But she didn't speak out. No one did anymore. Caitlin held that coveted title that had already grown old in her mind. She didn't even know what a Queen was supposed to do, other than be pampered to the point of spoilage. She didn't much care for it, unless it was by Kalen.

She steadied her hand, then inserted the key and turned, slowly, slowly, as if she was savoring this moment. In truth, she felt a pang of fear as the bolt was driven home and the metal door swung open with a loud whine. In a dozen years, it hadn't been opened.

Inside, the air was stale, and seemed darker than it ought to be.

On a rusted shelf inside the locker was a simple, leather-bound book, and a fat packet of what looked like letters. Shadow energy clung to the book itself, and she wondered how Abraham had managed to contain it in something that wasn't alive.

Caitlin scooped up the book and held it in her hands, the chatter of people in the subway station fading out. The book's title was scratched out so to make it unreadable. She opened the first page, feeling the stiffness of the dark leather, and found similar scratches to those that Gabriel had showed her, so long ago. Formulas, equations, alchemical scribblings that seemed written by a wild hand. Caitlin closed the book and handed it to Mia, then pulled out the bundle of letters.

The twine snapped before she could unlace it, and the letters, brittled by age, slid about each other in her hands. She leafed through them, each with a name on the front. Caitlin was surprised to find one with Sara's name on it, and another with Janice's.

She crumpled her brow and continued leafing through, seeing Gabriel's name, and several others she didn't recognize. On the very last letter, in that similar, impatient scrawl, was her own name.

Caitlin Stone.

She pawned off the other letters to Mia as well, tearing open the yellowed envelope. Caitlin wondered with dread an anticipation, what her long-dead father might have tried to say to her. Whatever it said, she felt a strange sort of anticipation. He'd known about her, at least enough to have left her a letter, 'just in case'.

The paper almost tore in her hand as she uncreased it, flattening it against the fading lockers. Her eyes stung before she began to read the familiar handwriting:

My dear daughter,

My work, unfortunately, has always left me little room to pursue my own happiness. If, in some other life, I'd known of your existence, I would have dropped my work entire to see you raised with both parents. But this is not that life.

You have a brother, Sara. My legitimate son -- born of my second wife who is now deceased -- and a mute in many regards. He holds not the key to leadership quite the way I had hoped. I have an unfortunate propensity towards it and have found myself using it to my own gains, as of late. I have to wonder if it some side effect of the tests I have been administering to myself. The darkness still clings to my eyes as I write this, never abating. This is how they must see the world, too.

But I digress.

Regrettably, I will admit, to have taken your mother out of wedlock. It is a distasteful thing, for one such as I, to do to a follower. I would undo my mistake, but one cannot reclaim the past, however much we might wish it.

I do not regret your life, however.

Keep in mind, for though you do not know me, and maybe your mind will be poisoned towards me by the time you get this, I do care about you.

You, Caitlin, are a Helsing by birth, though not name. You must understand why I have not made contact: It is for your own safety that I do this, for every day, the King draws me nearer to my demise. He, who once taught me everything I know, has now officially gone insane, but due to age or time, I cannot tell.

Caitlin flipped the page over, reading the tight scrawl on the other side, her heart throbbing with a strange combination of relief and regret.

I write you this letter so that you might understand. We Helsing's are a unique line. We carry a rare, very ancient lineage whose history cannot be divorced from those we call our predators. When you come of age, they may pursue you.

I've divorced myself from association with your mother before I knew you existed, and now that I do, I can't help but worry that they will not rest until you are caught. You, my dear daughter, will be a viable vessel for creatures that would otherwise be infecund. They will want you, they will hunt you, and they will tear you apart in their struggle for power.

This cannot be allowed to happen.

Caitlin, you must be strong and fight them.

The King will do anything to maintain his throne, including sealing you away, killing you, or worse, unspeakable acts that I cannot imagine for my own daughter. At the time I'm writing this, you've barely reached your third year. Your mother sent me a picture of you, which I keep always in my breast pocket, so you understand I do not speak flippantly.

I've never once forgotten about you. How could I?

My warning stands, however: Keep your distance. Stay away from the city, and away from the creatures I've been fighting all these years. You deserve a better life than I ever had. If this letter finds you, then you'll know I am gone. Bested likely, by the King, himself.

Don't search me out, don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, and DO NOT underestimate them. It would be best if you never leave that little town of yours, for only horrors await a Helsing who inquires over things they shouldn't.

With the utmost adoration,

Your father, Abraham Van Helsing

Caitlin stood there, wavering on her heels for a moment before her mind was released from the spell of the letter. Her fingers traced over his looping signature, feeling an ounce of his energy still lingering in the sheaf. "A little late for that," she said, smiling to herself.

But, one thing that stuck out was his mention of the darkness. It sounded as if he had been administering that same, noxious serum to himself; the one that Gabriel had forced on her. Maybe he thought to better understand his enemies by becoming more sensitive to their energies. And, she did have to admit, it improved her own senses. If he'd come to that conclusion, he wasn't entirely wrong.

Caitlin didn't know whether to ball the letter up or keep it close. There was so much in it, so much that explained everything and yet, left more questions than could possibly be gleaned from his words. She thought on it, then decided to give the letters to their proper recipients, and see if it answered any more questions.

She glanced to the book in Mia's hand. It, too, would be a source of explanation, if she could only decipher it. Maybe the doctor would know more and could help her with the project.

Caitlin gathered up the letters and the book, held them close to her chest and nodded to her escort. "Let's go home."

Mia's mouth twitched as if she wanted to say something, but bowed her head and said only, "As you wish, my Queen."

*

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