And there it was. John had suspected as much, concerning himself, and could never believe that Mary would have willingly endangered a child, even one that hadn't been born yet, but that was the aspect of the deal that had remained unknown. Now he knew.
He couldn't hate her for it. He could feel guilt that he had been the one she saved, that his second chance at life had been at the cost of Sam, but he couldn't hate her or blame her for it.
He cleared his throat again, debating what to say and how to say it. But this was Mary, even young, and he found it hard not to be straight with her, even if he wanted to protect her. "He chose people who he thought would have strong children. Children of hunters or people who just caught his interest. Put them in positions to make a deal with him, I suspect, like he did with you."
Unable to stop himself from offering some support, he reached out and took her hand, even the contrast between hers and his a reminder of all that separated them in age and experience. "Then, when the time came, the deal called in, he gave each of them some of his blood." Even now, he didn't know how far her knowledge extended, but she was smart, she could figure it out, even if the idea had been more legend than fact years ago.
"Mary," he said quietly, fixing his gaze on her. "You couldn't have known what he was after. No one ever has, not all of it."