The Book of All Things New

Look, I don't have to identify myself everytime. You know it's me, Zeb. Now, where do I start? Well, Annie moved her bed. She sleeps with the little cherubs now. They huddle together in warm, cozy nests. Really just mounds of blankets and faux fur throws from Marshalls, piled in dark, tiny storerooms opening onto the dim cellar. But they are snug, like dog dens for the ever so slightly more than canine set. And they accept her. They like Annie. She tickles them and hums little songs. She tells them stories. I don't know if they understand or comprehend. But they listen. And they gurgle. And they smile their baby smiles. Some of the toddlers respond in piping little one word sentences. They chortle - Yes! Yes! Yes! or No! No! No! or Mine! Mine! Mine! You get the idea. And they burrow in all around her. If Sarah fills the role of mother, Annie plays the part of the envied, older cousin. They adore her. And it's odd, since she isn't really even a vampire. But she does have her own form of intoxicating magic. I am not even sure she is aware of it. Maybe it's all just natural to her. Maybe she can't help it. Look at them sleeping, like a litter of soft, little, chubby, furry puppies, quietly breathing and dreaming dreams. Sometimes they take little tastes of Annie in their sleep. Sharp, tiny, pointed tongues dart out, pierce her skin and snap back into plump, little, pouty mouths. It is how they become accustomed to her. It is how they know her. And she likes it. See, she giggles in her sleep. At least I think she's sleeping..... Let me tell you something about magic, real magic. It does not require trinkets, no tiny, human bones, no gold what-nots. No pseudo Shakespearean, slightly biblical pronouncements. None of that pre-teen, girls-at-a-slumber-party-with-flashlights crap. Yes, I know the Red Paint folks are partial to their mumbo jumbo. But they don't really need it. The magic, the knowledge, the power is already there. It is all just a question of mind over matter..... of dreams made manifest. It's a force. And it waxes and wanes like a flame in the wind. It does not know from good or evil, if it even knows anything at all. But we can tap into it. We can harness it. We can bend it to our will. Like a sister to electricity, though much more primal. When good people band together and dip into it, good things happen. When bad people do the same, bad things happen. The choice is yours, oh living humans. But you always knew that...... Tomas/Jonathon and Sarah are growing stronger. I can see them in their bed. I can see them in that French wardrobe they have. They share secrets and intimacies. How quiet they can be. Must not wake the children. It is rare for vampires to bond in that way. It happens, but only occassionally. Angels crave only the warm, loving light of The Lord. Except when they crave other things. And this does not make them bad, or even naughty. No, it tends to make them strong. And Baylah? She is off to the zoo, sleeping with the hibernating polar bears, deep within their authentic, fiberglass caves. The keepers have been taken care of. They can't even see her. Not with their eyes. Not with the monitors. Look at the pale, red stains upon their snowy, white fleece. But do not worry. She will not kill them. She is only nursing..... And The Shaky Hand Man? He does what he does. He continues to knock the good guys off the chessboard of life. No more big theatrical stunts. He does not need them. Just kill the good and preserve the bad. It's obvious he does not need that little, skinny female child anymore.