Alastair

I swirl my whiskey. Eleanor sighs, setting herself on my lap. I smile. A few months have passed. She's taken ownership of the library, had her books delivered.

Furnished everything. It's gorgeous. The labor of her love.

"You mustn't be so cross dear," I kiss her gently, holding her.

Eleanor presses her like against my neck idly. "Let's take a walk tonight," she says softly.

I nod, with a smile.

Eleanor and I walk through the back alleys of New York, hand in hand. I hold an umbrella to shield us from the moon.

We chatted softly about this and that. The library, Liam, a book she's read, my gallery, business. It's a comfortable walk.

I find my heart full at the settled nature between us. Our love flows gently and easily, with just a look and warm speech.

"What is that?" She asks.

We stop. It smells of blood. I frown, narrowing my eyes. We step into the alley, investigating.

Oh. It would appear someone had been murdered.

"Hm," Eleanor frowns leaning against me. She's displeased. She eats for food. Kills for love. Very occasional.

Senseless violence makes her ill. I hold her close. "I know." I murmur.

We turn around, about to leave. And then I hear it. A faint sniffle. I turn around. A small form is crouched at the feet of the corpse.

"Is that a child?" She remarks.

Something inside me stirs. I do not mind violence. It is not just my nature. It is human nature. It reminds me of the feeling I got when I first laid eyes on my Eleanor.

I find my feet moving toward the huddled child. She looks up at me.

She says nothing. I glance back at Eleanor. She raised her brows.

"Is this...your parent?" I ask softly.

She looks down. Her face is dirty. I pick her up into my arms.

"I'll take care of you now," I tell her, rocking her in my arms. I'm not sure why. I'm not sure what it is.

But I want to protect this child. I must. She puts her face in my jacket. She doesn't know me. Doesn't she know not to speak to strangers?

This poor thing.

Eleanor looks at the child in my arms and up at me. She takes her jacket off silently, putting it over her thin arms.

And I smile. It's her approval.

"What's your name?"

"Emma." She whispers.

I look up at Eleanor. "Another E name. How nice."

• • •

Eleanor wipes her face. She's rough with it, with she says it's how her face was washed as a child, and she was always clean.

After she washes her face with a rag, she slathers lotion on her.

"Can't have you walking around ashy," she murmurs. The child is shining when she's done.

I look between the two. "Is that why you glisten so?" I ask her.

She smiles at me triumphantly. "Alright Emma."

I lean down, and push back her curls. Her eyes are wide, soft. Scared. I smile. She leans back.

Right. Fangs.

"I'm Alastair."

"You talk funny. Like on TV kinda."

I smile. "I'm not from here."

She glances at Eleanor. And then back at me. She uses her whole palm to push her hair back as it flops in her face once more.

Elenor takes this time to pull me aside. "What are you doing?" She raised her brow.

I look away. "She's a child in need."

"Cut the shit you don't care about children in need! I once saw you laugh when a child got hit by a bus!" She hisses.

I chuckle despite myself. It was really the logistics that was amusing. The way they were just mowed—

"I just..." I look over her shoulder at the child. "Doesn't she look meant for us?"

She looks over at her. "Saying she's meant for us means she's not meant for whoever her real family is. That she was meant to suffer in hunger and thirst in dirt, because we want her."

It's like Eleanor to remind me to be human. To show empathy.

"Well...can we keep her?"

Eleanor sighs, holding her head. "This is about the library isn't it?"

"It's not—" we both look back at the child and I continue in a hushed whisper. "I want a child. I want a child, Eleanor."

I want us to have a child. I need it. To ground her. And perhaps...perhaps I need one as well. Something feels missing. She fits right in that missing place, Emma does.

She looks between my eyes. "Find her next of kin. She can stay with us until then."

I pick Emma up. "You can stay!" I twirl her around.

Emma stared back at me. "Yay." She states simply.

Ah. She's just like me.