CONTENT WARNING: The usual death and murder mentions, intrusive thoughts, one screenshot of violence (no blood), sexual references, historical language that today would be considered offensive or outdated. Merry Christmas I guess!
- Women who have had violent experiences from men, take caution, since the intrusive thoughts in this chapter deal with that a bit in a supernatural fashion.
Áine
I woke at the sound of the door knocking...at least, that's what it sounded like. Who'd be at my door so late? Does someone know? Is it a witchfinder? Róisín is still sleeping, as is Reynold. We were both so exhausted yesterday that we fell asleep in our clothes. I don't want to disturb either of them, in case I'm mistaken. Perhaps it's just someone looking for directions...at least, that's what I'll keep telling myself.
I creep through the hallways, lighting a few candles with Ignis as I go. I keep the flames in my palm, just in case. I can make out a flickering of pale colours through the frosted glass. I brace myself and step outside...only...
...There's no need for panic at all. In fact, I'm overjoyed. It's been three years, and I didn't know when I'd ever get around to seeing him again. I wonder what brings him all the way to Henford? It's no short distance from here to Nebelstadt, not even for a vampire.
I throw my arms around him. He's freezing cold, but embracing my 'adoptive' father leaves a warmness in my heart. After a long night of horrid dreams, most of which revolved around Brádach somehow- seeing Oskar is a much-needed break from the memories...memories that aren't mine to begin with. Perhaps it's perfect timing that he chose to visit me. I have much I've been wanting to tell him that I felt I couldn't explain through letters.
"I hope you've been keeping well."
"Mostly," I reply, still giddy from a mix of excitement and thinking about the strange dreams.
I head back indoors, wondering why Oskar isn't following me inside until I remember I'm supposed to invite him in. Little Róisín has woken up, curious at the new person. "Who dat?"
"Róisín, this is Oskar. He's your grandfather...sort of."
She raises her hands, wanting to be picked up, and Oskar scoops her up in his arms. She throws her arms around him, quickly retracting them. "Cold!"
"Of course," he replies, stroking her cheek. "I've been outside for a while."
"Me Rosey!" she squeaks, flailing her hands. "That my friend Howly," she says, pointing to her toy werewolf on the floor. Oskar offers to take her back to sleep, though she protests for a while before falling asleep on his shoulder.
* * *
It turns out both Oskar and Violeta moved to Henford, after Violeta had an opportunity to become an art tutor. Seems strange for her to have taken up on it after how comfortable she seemed to be in Nebelstadt, but I suppose hundreds of years of the same dwelling would get boring for anyone. Oskar is taking up an apprentice tomorrow, who will be helping him get back to business with his woodwork.
I do wonder just how they'll both cope in Henford. Rural Henford is quiet enough, but they're living in Finchwick, and the adjustment period will likely be stressful for the pair of them. I also worry for everyone else in Finchwick, in a way. After all, even if they have bloodfruit with them, it can only work for so long until they both need to satisfy their bloodlust. Still, I say nothing. I have something else I'd rather talk to him about.
"Oskar, I found out what happened- before I met you, with Brádach. I found time to read through my mother's tome again when I had a strangely-vivid dream of her death. It didn't seem out-of-place at first, but it turns out that in my anger, I...I must have not just killed him, but drained his life force."
Oskar doesn't seem surprised or fazed at all. "I've heard of such a spell in one of my arcane history books, one that can only be performed when greatly enraged. Are you sure that's what happened?"
"For the most part," I reply. "These dreams, they feel more like memories. But they aren't my memories- they're Brádach's. I saw my own mother burn, over and over again. I saw him looking down on me when I was a child. But...I guess the reason I wanted to tell you, is because the spell isn't just deadly. You don't just kill them. You-"
"Drain their life force, correct? Is that what's worrying you?"
I don't know what to do with the knowledge that I have my own biological father's life force inside of me, and the fact that it will extend my life as a result. It isn't a bad thing, of course, it's just...a peculiar feeling that I don't quite know what to do with. He seems a little dejected for some reason.
"I promise you, an extended life isn't a bad thing. It gives you plenty more time to pursue what you love. Not only that, but you will live on into better times. Isn't that a wonderful thing?"
"What about the people I might lose along the way?"
"That is a fact of life, Áine, whether you're mortal or not," he replies, with a solemn edge to his voice. "I say, think of it this way: your father was a terrible man who would have spent the rest of his years hiding his guilt and doing nothing more. Turn those years he would've wasted into something more, something better."
Oskar has a point. I would do something better with that time than he would. I'd be raising my child, living a full life alongside Reynold, maybe even alongside a little witch group of my own...that is, if I survive long enough without being killed.
Oskar's demeanour completely changes. "There is something I should tell you, Áine. It's not something I like to talk about, but I feel you deserve to know."
"Before I asked Violeta to turn me, I was near death myself. I'd found out through a physician that I was terminally ill, and not much could be done. I had so many things I wanted to do with my life, and thanks to Violeta, I had a lifetime to do them. Admittedly, I got very little done on my previous to-do list, but I'm thankful for all of the years she has given me. I've seen many things I never thought we'd ever see at all, let alone in my lifetime."
That's terrible. I didn't realise he'd been through any such thing. I always assumed that he'd met Violeta and asked her to turn him, and that was it. He always seems so curious, so I figured that was all there was to it. I can't imagine how that must have felt- having so many plans for your life, only to have it cut short by no fault of your own...
He laughs to himself. "Funny to think, isn't it? That my worst memory is from well before the war. Even before I was ever a vampire. To think that back then, I lamented that I'd die before my thirty-seventh birthday, and yet here I am, soon to turn one-hundred and sixty."
"I can't begin to think what that must feel like...all of the things you've had to keep to yourself for so many years," I tell him. He gives me a held-back surprised look.
"Not entirely, I suppose. Sometimes Violeta and I tell each other things, but mostly we just write things down if we need to. We just got on with it because we had no other choice."
"You have a choice now, Oskar. You know you can share anything with Reynold and I if you want to. Reynold does it all the time at the monastery. He's often called upon for counsel."
"I don't think I need anything like that, but I appreciate your concern," he replies, flat-toned. "Anyhow, I forgot- I bought something for your daughter."
He calls Róisín over, saying he's got something for her. Her face lights up with excitement, and she bounces up and down. "For me? For me?"
"Just for you," he says, in a soft tone I've never heard him use before. "I made this especially for you, so no-one else has anything like this- just you!"
She rips open the ribbon on the box, and squeals so loud the neighbours can probably hear her. It's a little wooden cat toy, with a cartoonish face, red eyes and long fangs...it's a vampire cat. Of course it is.
"Kitty!" she says, over and over again in a whimsical tone, cuddling it. "New kitty!" She stares into its face. "Ooh, red eyes. Mean kitty. I love him so much!"
"She already loves it. Thank you, Oskar. I really appreciate you making something for her."
"It's no problem at all. It's been wonderful to see you again, Áine, and I'm glad that I can see you more often now...even if Henford is a bit much to get used to sometimes. Anyhow, I ought to take my leave- I have a long day ahead tomorrow. Meeting my apprentice for the first time."
I wish him well, and my daughter waves goodbye. It warms my heart to know that Oskar is never far away. I just hope Henford isn't too much of a shock to the system for him.
Oskar
I take a stroll around Finchwick, as I have been the week that I've been here. Though Henford seems to never get any sun, or so Violeta says- I still haven't tested her theory that I won't burn unless the sun is out. She's living just down the road from me. It feels strange, almost claustrophobic being in such a small house, but it'll take a while before it truly feels like a home.
The nights are usually quiet, save for when the pub gets busy towards the end of the night. I try to avoid groups of people. I do notice an interesting-looking woman, standing on the corner by the pub, dressed in red silk- something that I suppose most would consider seductive. There isn't anyone else around; the pub seems to be quiet tonight. I figure I ought to talk to her. I wonder if there's a reason she's out so late.
She catches my attention before I even speak to her. She speaks to me in a soft and sultry voice.
"You look a little lost, darling. Been a long day? Maybe I can help you wind down a little, if you'd like."
"Oh, I'm quite alright, thank you. I prefer being out late. Less crowds."
She chuckles. Did I say something funny? Or is it my speech impediment that's making her laugh? Sometimes having fangs on both my top and bottom teeth is something of a curse.
It's been ages since I've had a taste. I wonder what her blood tastes like-
No, not now. This is what I dreaded about coming to Henford. Violeta is right- we both needed a change of scenery, and I don't regret having my daughter on my doorstep- but I haven't had to wrestle with these thoughts for so many years. They were going to wreak havoc on me after so long of not experiencing them. I could barely cope with them back then. How long until forty-six turns to forty-seven? Forty-eight? Forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two- No, for Watcher's sake, stop...
"I see. So you're a gentleman of the night, are you? Someone as beautiful as you must be."
Beautiful? I haven't seen my reflection for almost one hundred and thirty years- sometimes it's hard not to picture yourself as some kind of bat-faced monster when your imagination has had to fill in the blanks. Most men would take such a compliment as an insult to their masculinity, but I certainly don't. If anything, it's oddly affirming.
I don't know what to say to her. Am I really so obviously a vampire to others? Is it the way I dress? Is it my speech? Do I even care if anyone finds out? Who would be brave enough to even try to stop me? Maybe she won't hate me for it, I suppose, but maybe my first week in isn't the best time to cause a stir like that.
"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm the same as you- standing on the edge of the street, sucking men dry for a little paycheck. You don't have to feel ashamed, I promise."
"Really? People pay you to drain them?" What a strange country I'm in. I didn't expect there to be vampire-friendly folk, let alone people who'd pay to have you drink their blood. Maybe I ought to change my mind on hiring an apprentice, and just find these odd people with fat pockets and peculiar interests.
The soft thudding of her heart...I can hear it from here. I'm sick to death of bloodfruit. What's stopping me? No-one else is around.
No, not this again. I have to focus on something else...the bats. I can stop myself this time, I know it.
One bat, two bats, three bats, four bats, five bats, six bats, seven bats-
I bet her blood is sweeter than any confection...I should just give in. Innocent or not, what difference does it make? The way the fresh blood of a human warms your insides...don't you want that? Witnessing the growing pallor of their skin as you savour every last drop? Maybe you should let go and become the monster everyone will accuse you of being once they know the truth about you-or maybe you already are the monster-
"Are you okay? Why are you counting-"
No! Don't stop me, or I'll hurt you.
"What are you talking about? We were just talking, you weren't doing-"
- thirteen bats, fourteen bats, fifteen bats, sixteen bats...
"Please, stop. I don't know why you're counting bats, but whatever it is, you don't need to."
I find myself sitting in the grass, with her hand on my cheek. Why is she helping me? I could've hurt her. Goodness, my first week in Henford and already someone other than Violeta has seen me like this.
"Don't touch me! I don't want to-"
"You weren't trying to hurt me, sweetheart, I promise."
I don't get it. Why is she so understanding of something no-one ever seems to understand?
"What happened?"
"I'm not sure. I thought you'd fainted for a moment."
She helps me to my feet, and a nauseous sensation fills my stomach. I notice my arm quivering, and I grab it tight.
"I...I apologise. I'm quite unwell. Sometimes I have...moments..."
"I get you, sweetheart," she says, with a little laugh. "Don't you worry. I'm sorry I jumped on you straight away. I didn't realise you weren't well until the light hit you. Wouldn't have been any good if we got into bed and...oh, I feel awful-"
Bed? Wait-
"Goodness, I've gotten the complete wrong end of the stick, haven't I? Oh, Watcher, even that sounded- No, no, I thought you were...well, another kind of lady of the night."
"I think I know what you mean," she replies. Her laugh is making me less anxious. "No, don't worry, darling. I'm not a vampire. They've been dead for years now. Wiped out about sixty years ago in a horrible war."
"Well, I apologise for keeping you," I reply, still completely shaken by those horrific thoughts. "I'll let you get back to work."
"No need for apologies. It's quite refreshing, having a chat. Sometimes it's nice to have small talk with a man who doesn't want to do anything, you know. It's been lovely to have met you. I assume you're new here? I don't recognise you. And is that a Windenburg accent?"
"Indeed. Anyhow, I ought to get going. I think I ought to lie down for a while."
"Go and get some rest, sweetheart, it's late. Oh- and my name is Dinah, by the way. And you are?"
My words catch in my throat for a moment. "Oskar."
"And will I see you again, Oskar?"
"I imagine so," I reply. "I'll likely be out a lot during the quieter hours."
"Well, until next time- take care of yourself. I hope you'll come to find some joy in Henford- as difficult as that may be."
Dinah...She seems a lovely woman. I can only imagine how good her business must be. I can't tell whether her compassion is genuine or just her trying to sell herself, but either way, the compassion is appreciated. Perhaps it is genuine; after all, I'm sure Dinah knows what it's like to be misunderstood and harshly judged. No matter what happens, at least I know there's one person in Henford who doesn't think I'm a lunatic.
Gideon
It seems as good a time as any to ask the boys about what they want for their futures. A lot of boys their age are going into apprenticeships, and whilst our fishing is doing well for us, I don't know if that's what they want in the long term.
"Well, actually, Father...we were hoping that maybe we could stay with you and just carry on with the fishing," Josiah says, the quieter of the two.
Really? All of their possible options and they want to stick around with me. I can't say it doesn't touch my heart, but I don't know why they don't want to branch out. I know Josiah is a bit shy, but I thought even he'd want to get out a little.
"It's hard to get anything out there right now," Daniel says, "not unless you want to be a witchfinder. And you know we don't want to do that because you spent years telling us not to do that," he finishes, with a laugh. "So we figure we may as well stay here and catch fish with you. There's always going to be a market for food, anyway, isn't there?"
Daniel and Josiah have always been precious to me. To see them like this...it makes me realise that both of my sons are much better young men than I was at their age, even better than I was when they weren't even twelve yet.
"Father, you hunted witches. Why did you always tell us not to do it? It seems hypocriti-"
Daniel tells his brother to shut up, but he keeps going. It's fine.
"And you said to me that somehow you'd 'deal with' Samuel Annorin-"
"I know, Josiah, I know. I told you both never to hurt people unless it's necessary, and then I said to you I didn't care how Annorin gets dealt with. Thing is, I want you two to make a better world without the harm of another human being clouding your mind for the rest of your life like it has mine. If someone absolutely has to get hurt in any situation, I don't want it to be on either of your consciences. I taught you the art of swordsmanship to protect yourselves first and foremost. If you want to stay and work with me, then that's absolutely fine. I just want you both to be happy, that's all."
The two of them smile in unison. "We know, Father. But we want you to be happy, too, you know."
"I am happy," I reply. "I know you both hate it when I'm mushy like this, but I'm happy that I've raised two loving, perfect boys. Ruth would have been so proud of you both- as proud as I am."
Violeta
Today was my first day as an art tutor in Henford, and it was...peculiar, to say the least.
I had a grand total of four people show up, but less people paying more money sounds preferable to crowds paying me small change. As I glanced at them while speaking, I pictured myself in detail draining all four of them one by one, their blood warming me from the inside out, the way a cosy Winterfest dinner used to- and the thought of it alone actually pleasured me enough to hold back. In fact, it even inspired the still-life I'd painted as an example, with a velvety red background. It was a feeling I'd never experienced before. We were all so busy indulging in a shared ...dare I call it 'passion'... that my primary passion had been successfully sidelined. I didn't know how to feel about it at first. A level of control over my bloodlust? Since when?
Our second task was figure drawing, and I'd asked all of them to draw me standing there, arms folded. The human figure is difficult to get a grasp on, but everyone had done well considering they were all inexperienced.
In a way I didn't expect, talking to other people about art felt different. Oskar was an attentive listener, but he wasn't much interested in painting, so we never really had much to discuss about it. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but talking to people other than Oskar actually felt enjoyable- nothing against him, but it felt...good...to talk to a different person than him, when I thought it would annoy me to no end. During the class, we were all discussing old famous pieces, some more modern, but I was too wrapped up in the discussion to consider sticking my fangs in any of their necks.
Then before she leaves, one woman told me how much she enjoyed it, and how much she looked forward to the next one, as well as how much she loved my work after seeing it somewhere in a local café of sorts. Then the others join in with their compliments, and I'm not entirely sure whether or not it touched my heart or just boosted my ego...
Wait...heart...touched? Ego...boosted?
No! No, no no no no. For the first time in however long, I...felt something? It felt like a fiery sickness in my stomach. I hated it. Emotions led to vulnerability, vulnerability led to pain, pain led to death. I'd been quite at home feeling close-to-nothing for the past two-hundred-and-thirty-odd years. I wasn't going to start going all mushy now. No. Not for anyone.
* * *
Without much warning, Oskar visits. Good timing, perhaps. He's somewhat more of an emotional creature than me; maybe he'll get it.
"The art class was...well, it was..." - I choke on the awkwardness before the word leaves my lips- "good?"
Oskar forces an unnatural laugh from his throat. "Good? Since when you did think anything was good? You hate everything, remember? You always told me you hated almost everything."
"Oh, don't mock me, Oskar. I'm dealing with this badly enough as it is. I don't like it. Anyhow, how was your evening?"
He looks down at the floor solemnly, kicking his foot like a child. "That good, hm?" I say, playfully, only Oskar doesn't return my attempt at a joke.
"I met this woman. She was lovely, but I...had a horrible thought again while we were talking."
I couldn't imagine living like Oskar. My thoughts of drinking people's blood in beautiful, vigorous clarity was entirely within my control, and a source of something close to enjoyment. For Oskar, they came out of nowhere, and greatly disturbed him.
"How many bats did you get to this time?"
"Sixteen."
"Well, that's an improvement, at least..."
"She seemed surprisingly understanding. I don't know why."
We both sit down on the sofa, and he leans his head on my shoulder for a while until he manages to gather enough energy to fake being in good spirits. Whenever I see him like this, I can't help but think to back when he was on his deathbed. The image rarely leaves my mind even after this long.
The helpless, desperate yet lifeless look in his brown eyes when he asked me to turn him...a part of me wonders if I shouldn't have. A part of me feels like I've subjected him to an eternity of mental turmoil, and nothing I do to try and make it better seems to make any difference.
"So who was this woman you were chatting to?"
"A woman named Dinah. Had the most beautiful red and black outfit. A complete stranger, but friendly enough...turns out she was a prostitute. I don't get it. I seem to make friends with women much quicker than-"
"What on Earth would you want to do with a prostitute? You've never cared about that sort of thing."
"She spoke to me first! I didn't even know she was one! I got the wrong end of the stick and thought she was a vampire!"
"How did you manage to confuse the two?! Just because a woman is out late at night and wearing red and black doesn't mean she's a vamp-well...Never mind."
"It's a long story. I didn't tell her anything about me, but...she was kind enough to talk me out of counting bats at least. I don't know quite how a stranger managed it, but..."
This woman, Dinah, with the red and black, maybe I ought to keep an eye out for her and thank her.
"Are you going to keep doing the art classes?"
"Probably, but...I feel awful having felt genuinely good today. I don't know. That doesn't make sense, does it? I've been comfortable all of these years with such diminished emotions. If I don't try to crush them back down, then they'll overtake me. They'll make me weak after two-hundred-plus years of finally finding strength."
It's odd. Oskar and I very rarely have a heart-to-heart like this. We haven't for years. We took to writing things down, and not often discussing them in much depth.
"I know it probably doesn't feel like this, Violeta, but you're going to have to take risks on occasion, and that includes letting yourself feel good. I don't think either of us have much choice in whether or not we go about our lives as near-emotionless husks, but I also don't think it's worth suppressing those rare moments of genuine joy because you're worried someone will take advantage," he says. "It isn't like the old days anymore. None of those people are around to hurt you. I know Henford is full of terrible people, but it's also full of weak-minded people. All bark, no bite. And luckily, we have plenty of bite," he adds, laughing.
"Think of it this way- you know what you deserve now. And if anyone ever tried to take advantage of you, well, you have vampiric strength, or you can just drink them dry. Either way, you win. So just let yourself feel good instead of trying to stop it. Give in to it once in a while."
Maybe Oskar is right. Anyone who tried to hurt me now would be in for a whole world of misery. Maybe now, I could let myself be happy, when I was lucky enough to feel something close to it. Maybe the art classes will better for me than I thought, though the thought of growing closer to humanity frightened me and made me nauseous. I was better than them. Stronger, too. I don't want to be like them, but I'll have to if I'm to start a new life amongst other humans.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Oskar asks. "For what?"
"That I'm no help to you."
"I'm not sure I follow," he replies, in a solemn voice.
"I don't know how to help you. I've tried, over and over and I just don't know- and it pains me."
"Don't worry yourself." He gazes down into the floor again. "You do what you can with the knowledge you have, and I appreciate it. I don't think anyone knows what it is. I suppose that's the plus side of immortality- maybe sometime in a few hundred years, someone will have a name for it. Maybe even a cure or a solution."
"Oskar, you don't need to be cured - you're fine as you are. I don't think it would be happening at all if I hadn't have turned-"
"Violeta, I asked you to turn me," he snaps, retracts a little and closes his eyes shortly before opening them again. "I don't regret that decision one bit, no matter what ill may have come from it. Please, don't blame yourself for any of this...I'm starting to think taking on an apprentice was a terrible idea, and...I should go. I'm sorry if I burdened you-"
"Oskar, you would never hurt someone so young. I know that. You know that. Neither of us would."
He knows that. Somehow, I think he's aware that these thoughts are nothing to do with him in the back of his mind. It's just trying to convince himself of the truth when his own mind is constantly lying to him.
"These uncontrollable thoughts, they aren't you." I put a hand on his shoulder before he leaves. "And you're never a burden. I don't care how long it will take me to convince you that these thoughts don't reflect you at all. I don't care how long it takes me to talk you out of counting bats, or how many times I have to do it- I won't leave your side, Oskar."
He gives me a weak smile before leaving. I probably shouldn't have brought up the near-death situation like I did, but I had to get that feeling off my chest...and there it was again. Feelings. The cold, heavy dread in your chest. I hadn't felt it for so long. It came back, and I didn't want it to. Perhaps it's a sort of trade-off. If I am to find something close to happiness in Henford, maybe I will also have to take the return of the more painful emotions in my stride.