The next several days passed without any extraordinary events. Fyn brought Eondar hot milk every time the sire woke from a nightmare, and it got better bit by bit. The next Friday night, Eondar slept through the night for the first time in weeks. He also continued to look for an apartment, but nothing really suited his needs. And the lifebearer caught himself looking disappointed whenever the sire marked some possibilities on the newspaper's residential market page. Living together with Eondar was something he had adjusted to surprisingly quickly. Although it did nothing for his nerves to catch his room-mate emerging from their bathroom shirtless and still wet from a shower every morning, the man was really great company and could cook like a five-star-chef.

Then Monday morning came with something unexpected.

"Mr. Sheldon, here are the events for the upcoming week." Celia put a list on Fyn's desk with a smile. "And we got a call from Mrs. Myers; her little daughter is sick, and she won't be able to cover the celebrity gossip column today. She asked if you can fill in for her, this one time, and since it fit your timetable, I put the event on the list - if that's okay."

"Of course," Fyn answered. "And why don't you come with me, Celia? It's high time you did some field work."

The girl beamed at him. "That would be great! What about Eondar?"

"He got a call on his cell phone half an hour ago and went out to take it." Fyn checked his watch with a frown. "It's not like him to chat that long."

"I'll look for him," Celia announced and bustled out. "The event's this afternoon."

After she was gone, Fyn took up the list with a sigh. There it was - he was doing a silly celebrity report just like he had dreaded.

The mentioned event was at the Holden hotel downtown. The hotel chain owner, Othric Holden, wanted to present his fiancé to the public. So far, there had been no hint as to the identity of his betrothed, and it was anticipated with much speculation. To Fyn, having no interest in that kind of stuff, it was all new, and he started to look up some of the rumours on the internet to be prepared. But he would most likely allow Celia to write the short article. He knew that she loved celebrity gossip. And the name Holden made him a bit uncomfortable, to be honest.

The journalist had never really cared about the things that had happened between his father and the Holdens. There was a hazy memory about a big, beautiful house where he wasn't allowed to touch anything and a tall, blonde sire with eyes like glaciers. When Fyn had been old enough to understand, his father had told him that a man named Aravin Holden was his real sire, a heartless guy who had treated Fyn and his father badly. The lifebearer had accepted this, knowing that his dad would never lie to him. And there was Sheldon anyway whom he had taken on as his sire.

But, now, Fyn was forced to bring himself up to date with the state of the Holden family and reluctantly started to browse through various news reports from past years in the "Valkyrie Times"' digital database. Aravin Holden had been banned to the Nandar branch of the hotel chain about thirty years ago by his brother due to some shady business and had never returned to Avras. Eight years ago, he had been killed in an earthquake there.

Fyn stared at Aravin's picture on his screen. He clearly remembered that face and those colorless eyes, and it made him shudder. He didn't feel sorry for never meeting that man again, and, as nasty as it was to think like this, he felt glad that Aravin was dead. Taking some deep breaths, the lifebearer went on reading about the sorry lot that was left of the once-proud Holden clan.

Othric had a son, Sylair, who had been accused of kidnapping and attempted murder in two cases around the same time Aravin had been caught doing illegal things. Sylair had been declared certifiably insane and was put into a closed mental hospital. About a year ago, he had been released, but had left the country immediately. There was no information about his current whereabouts.

The journalist involuntarily gasped as a picture of Sylair Holden appeared on his screen. He knew that face, too! And it made him feel cold and sick, even more than Aravin's picture. But why? His parents had never mentioned Sylair, just Aravin.

Fyn took a few deep breaths and tried to concentrate. Sylair Holden was a beautiful lifebearer with a sweet face, stunning baby-blue eyes and wavy caramel-brown hair. The picture had been taken during the trial, and there was an undeniable glint of madness and burning hatred in those seemingly innocent eyes. Fyn had never seen anyone who looked this pretty also look this evil.

By now, his journalist instincts had started to take over. Fyn realized that he had to know right now why looking at Sylair Holden scared him like this. He couldn't put this on the back burner, and there was still time until he, Celia, and Eondar had to go to that event at the hotel. With feverish haste, the lifebearer began his research about anything connecting him to Sylair.

He didn't have to search for long. Although it wasn't in the official archive, the database also held information that the newspaper had gathered, but then had been forbidden to print for security reasons. There, Fyn found a detailed report about Sylair's crimes - and once again, gasped in shock. The two people he had tried to kill were two lashran named Sheldon and Cerise, and the person kidnapped had been Cerise's son, a four-year old lifebearer named Fyn.

"Mr. Sheldon?" Without warning, Celia barged in. "Eondar just left. There was some emergency concerning a friend, as far as I understood. He said he'll be back on time." She stopped as she saw the look of horror on her superior's face. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you!"

Fyn finally remembered to breathe. "It's... it's okay. I just... no, it's alright. I think I'll take an early lunch break."

Celia nodded and closed the door behind her.

"Forests," Fyn whispered, once again staring at Sylair Holden's picture. That man had kidnapped him! Now the nightmares he had as a kid finally made sense, but he was glad to have forgotten any conscious memories about it. But why? What had happened back then?

The journalist grabbed his phone. There were two people who surely had some answers for him, and he needed them now.

Half an hour later, Fyn stood in front of his parents' door. After his brief call, his sire has asked him to come over so they could talk. This wasn't something to be discussed over the phone.

Private investigator Sheldon was an impressive-looking sire with dark hair and eyes, and although he wasn't really a tall person, he had a presence of authority around him. He smiled at his son as he opened the door. "Come in."

They went to the living-room, and before Fyn could say anything, his father had jumped up from the couch, rushed toward him and embraced him fiercely. "Oh forests, I'm so sorry!"

"Dad?" Fyn patted his father on the back, a bit confused. "I'm sorry if this is stirring up some bad memories, but when I stumbled across some information about the Holdens, I just had to know the whole truth."

"We debated on telling you," Sheldon said quietly, looking at his son with serious eyes. "But aside from those nightmares, you practically forgot everything that had happened after a while. And later, when you were older, we just agreed to tell you if you ever asked. But you didn't until now, so we decided to let things be."

"We just wanted to protect you," Cerise whispered, his voice teary. He still hadn't let go of his son. "Sylair was locked away, and Aravin was disgraced. We thought it was all over forever."

"It is over, love," Sheldon corrected his mate. "And because of that, we can sit down and talk about it. Come on, let go of Fyn before he turns blue in the face."

Cerise loosened his grip and smiled sheepishly at his son, turquoise eyes bright with tears. Even now, Fyn couldn't help but think of his father as the most beautiful lifebearer he had ever seen. The journalist had inherited the platinum blonde locks and delicate features of his father, but Cerise had a refined, elegant aura around him despite his also very youthful appearance. Simply put, he looked like an angel out of old human churches. "Sorry, sweetheart. Let's sit down."

Sheldon fetched them all a cup of coffee, and then, he and his mate began to tell Fyn the whole story - starting from Cerise trapped in a contract at a brothel to pay his sire's debt to the showdown in the warehouse where Sylair and his crony, the gangster Malrone got captured, and finally Sheldon's theory on the mad lifebearer's motives.

All the while, Cerise kept his arm around his son like he was still a child and Fyn was thankful for it. Although there was a happy ending, the events leading to it were simply horrible. Unconsciously, the lifebearer rubbed at his right lower leg. Now he knew that he was marked for life not due to a simple, tragic accident but due to Aravin Holden trying to beat up his father and him getting caught in the middle as a toddler.

"But there is something else," Sheldon added after a while. "It's just a theory of mine, and since none of the people involved ever gave a statement, it's still guesswork. Aravin had ordered a paternity test, and it turned out negative. But there might be a possibility that Othric is your real sire. Since he is the last Holden left and you might meet him in person, I thought you might want to know. But there's no proof whatsoever."

Fyn shook his head. "I don't care. You are my sire. And after all I've heard, I pray to the forests that I will never meet one of those blasted Holdens. I'll go there for my report, and then I'll forget about them forever."

Cerise drew his son closer to him. "That might be for the best. But I'm so sorry for all that has happened, sweetie."

"Dad, it's not your fault. You did all you could to protect me," Fyn answered softly. Now he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "I love you both so much. Please don't blame yourself for anything."

Cerise just held him close, and after a moment, Sheldon sat down beside them and hugged Fyn from the other side. The lifebearer curled up against his parents, and, safely sheltered between them, cried like a little child.

Celia was clearly worried when Fyn returned to the "Times" about an hour later, looking fragile and with red blotches under his eyes. No amount of cold washrags had been able to erase all the traces of his crying fit from his pale skin.

"Mr. Sheldon, are you okay? Can I do anything for you?" the girl asked as he slowly went to his office. "Maybe you should take the day off?"

"I'm okay, Celia." The lifebearer gave her a reassuring smile, thankful for her honest sympathy. "Please don't worry. Has Eondar come back yet?"

"He called and said he'd meet us at the hotel. Today must be jinxed," the girl stated. "Whatever happened, it must have been serious. And now you..."

"Let's hope he'll be there on time, but you better get a camera in case he can't make it," the journalist told her. "And there is something you can do, on second thought... could I borrow some of your makeup, Celia? I can't go on a job looking like this."

She understood immediately. "Of course! Good thing we have the same skin tone. I couldn't help you if you had that golden lashran skin."

"I think that is the first time I've gotten a compliment for my pale complexion," Fyn stated and couldn't help but grin. "I don't know what I will do once your internship is finished."

"You just have to put in a good word for me with the boss, Mr. Sheldon," the girl answered with a big smile and then ran off to fetch the needed items.

To be continued...