CONTENT WARNING: Violence against / death of a minor ( in the pictures, it doesn't actually happen, though- it's part of an 'imagine spot'), alcohol mention, one brief sexual mention, intrusive thoughts, mental health issues. Another chapter to bear in mind historical context for.
Oskar
I'm impressed by how far Eli has come in the time that he's been here.
He's still very nervous, and sometimes difficult to communicate with as a result- but he seems very dedicated to his work. He's already made a few little simple toys, which, after a little extra sanding, I'd passed on to Róisín. She adored them, and what better compliment to your handiwork than the joyful babbling of a toddler?
As for me, I've been rather run-down. The bloodfruit is no longer sating my bloodlust, and I can feel the thirst creeping in. I'd looked around for anything to take the edge off- rats, foxes, badgers, anything- but the animals of Finchwick are far too elusive, even for me. I've spent most of my time indoors for a while, trying to get back into my work and trying to distract myself. The exhaustion of it all had driven me to slumber- the first sleep I've had in about three weeks.
Tomorrow is the seasonal Finchwick market, where everyone comes together to sell all sorts of goods- jewellery, food, gifts, clothes, you name it, someone was selling it. The weather is supposed to be cloudy with a little rain, so it ought to be safe enough. Seems Henford during the day is actually quite reliably safe from the Sun...People are right when they say the sun never shines here.
I thought it'd be fun for Eli to try and sell some of the items he'd made, and I'd allow him to keep whatever he earned from it as a reward. The trouble was...it'd be far too overwhelming. A vampire's heightened senses make something like a market a complete nightmare. The sights, the sounds, the powerful stench of whatever was cooking. Not only that, but the sheer amount of people in one place...I don't know if I can handle it. The trouble is, there's only one way to test the theory...and that's to give it a go anyway. It's a massive risk, but it's the only way I'll know if I can at all cope with it.
A loud voice calls my name, and wakes me from what was a fairly peaceful sleep!
"Eli! Did you think I was dead again?!"
"Well...Yes? How could I not? You don't breathe when you sleep! And, well...I hear a lot of stories of people's masters dying during their apprenticeships..."
"I told you last time- you don't have to worry about me dying on you."
"Okay, but...I'll be really honest, you don't look well at all."
He's probably right, but I don't know how much of that is the vampirism, and how much is the thirst for blood. I try not to think about it. I'm sometimes glad I can't see my own reflection. I dread to think what the illness that almost killed me did to me, and I dread to think what vampirism did to me as well...though given some of Dinah's comments, perhaps it's treated me well after all...
"Eli, you need to stop worrying so much about me. I'm not sure why you're so concerned, but you shouldn't be."
He doesn't say anything to that, and just gives me his usual awkward stare.
"Anyway! I hope you're ready for tomorrow!"
"Well, for the most part, but...My newest creation didn't go entirely well."
I follow Eli into the workshop.
"Oh, come on. I doubt it went that-"
"...badly. Well, never mind. Baby steps. Tartosa wasn't built in a couple of months, was it?"
* * *
The weather is terrible- awful for everyone else, awful for custom, but I'm not complaining. A little overwhelming for the senses, but perhaps that's a good thing. The smell of fresh fish, fresh bread and petrichor is overpowering the smell of blood. I try not to think about it- I can't risk having a moment and scaring Eli. I buy some fish from Gideon, a man who's been making a decent living off of them with his sons, who are about the same age as Eli. Fish blood isn't much, but it'll curb the bloodlust a little. The rest, I can cook for dinner.
Our first customer arrives. He seems a friendly enough fellow. Eli clears his throat.
"Umm...Hello there, sir. Today we're...we're, uhh..."
I'll take it from here.
"Good afternoon, good sir! I do hope you'll like our goods- all handmade by my dear apprentice and myself, a descendant of the Nivelheim family, the most popular woodworkers in all of Windenburg! Oh, and my fine apprentice, Elijah."
"Oh...Nivelheim family? I've never heard of them. Have you only just brought your work over to Henford?"
...What?! What's he talking about? Has he been living under a rock?
"No? They've been world-famous for almost two hundred years, from Shang Simla to Selvadorada! Almost everyone has heard of the Nivelheim family! Dressers, wardrobes, tables- you name it, someone owns one!"
Eli shrugs to the gentleman, and utters an awkward 'sorry...'
"Oh, my apologies, Mr. Nivelheim. I have sadly never heard of your family, nor have I even been to Windenburg-"
"It's a 'v', not a 'w'! At least pronounce it properly-"
"Anyhow, you there, boy. Have you been doing this for long?"
"Sort of! A few months now! I'm really enjoying it. Herr Nivelheim is really nice...most days. Do you have any children, Sir? Maybe they'd like one of these toys?"
The man smiles, looking down at the table. Eli's a fairly talented young man, and he's applied himself surprisingly well. All of them are well-crafted.
"I like your attitude, son. I'll take the rabbit, and the little dog and duck on wheels. How much?"
"How about...fifteen-"
"-Two-hundred Simoleons."
Eli gasps at me, looking back to the gentleman. Eli, the first rule of being a craftsman...never undersell yourself! It isn't about politeness- it's about getting what you deserve! It's about having enough left to buy your materials as well as eat!
To his surprise, the man nods without much consideration, placing the money in his palm. Eli's eyes light up like a magpie eyeing a gemstone.
"Oh, thank you, Sir! I hope you have a great day. And I hope your children enjoy the toys!"
The boy's lack of charisma was what convinced him, and not a two-hundred year-long well-respected family business. I won't say I don't feel slightly defeated because of it!
"Wow, we've been here for, what, an hour? And we already have two hundred Simoleons! Isn't that amazing, Oskar?"
"...Oskar?"
* * *
After a surprisingly-good time at the Finchwick market, the two of us head home, with empty stomachs and full pockets. We managed to sell out of everything. There's something endearing about seeing Eli's face flushed with pride.
I leave him to count up the money- as a test of his arithmetic, and because I want as little to do with numbers as possible.
"I'm definitely not miscounting- there's at least eight hundred Simoleons here! How did we make so much money off of just a few toys?!"
That's a good question. Even without any of the customers having a clue who I was, we still made an unbelievable amount of money for someone who'd been on the job for a few months only. A few of those items were my own, but the customers seemed much more interested in Eli's cutesy, minimal touch.
"Well, that's surprising- especially with no-one remembering who I am..."
"...Are you still annoyed about that?"
"More annoyed that I let it fall into obscurity," I reply. "I've done little bits of work here and there. My friend Violeta would sell them off at various markets where she sold some of her art pieces. Decorations, knife blocks, and so on. I didn't do anything substantial for years, and now no-one remembers who the Nivelheim family are. My mother and father's years of hard work...all forgotten, and it's all to do with my laziness."
"I doubt it's laziness," Eli replies, gazing with excitement into the bundles of notes on the desk. "Can I ask something?"
"Depends what that 'something' is."
"Well, you said that your mother and father's work has been 'forgotten'...it can't have been that long, can it? I mean, you're in your late thirties, so it's only been roughly about forty years, right? They can't have forgotten all about you already."
Is that asked out of curiosity, or is Eli becoming suspicious? I change the subject.
"I know I've mocked you in jest for your awkwardness, Eli, but it turns out you have a lot more charisma than I thought."
"Oh. Thank you...is there a reason you're sitting like that and not on a chair?"
"It's easier to think up here."
"I see. Well, I mean, you can just start again, can't you? I can make the smaller things, and maybe you can get back to making furniture and such."
Eli has a point. Back in Nebelstadt, there was no easy way to transport anything big enough outside of it. In Henford, it would be easy enough to just deliver it to someone in the country.
"Someone must remember, anyway. Maybe the older people will. My father has a few pieces around the house. And when someone remembers, that'll be all it takes- one person to realise the Nivelheim family is still around and still going, and then you'll be back in business, right?"
Strangely profound coming from Eli, but he's just lit a spark of an idea. Either he's a genius, or I'm an idiot. Maybe both. Why did it not cross my mind as soon as I got back to Henford to just get straight back into it? Probably because I was too busy dealing with the stress of a new place, but now I'm more used to Henford...
"I think you've just hit the nail on the head, Eli. Good on you. You can have tomorrow off for all of your hard work today."
"Thank you, Oskar. Can I ask something-"
"About your cut, isn't it?"
He gives me a solemn nod, and I slowly push every single bundle towards him.
"What?!"" He almost falls out of his chair. "I can't take all of it! That's almost eight hundred Simoleons! That's too much!"
"Eli, do you remember what I said to you, when we first met?"
"You said a lot of things when we first met, Oskar...and I mean a lot."
Cheeky. Turns out he does have a little bite hiding somewhere in there.
"I said you'd prove your worth to your father by earning more on your woodwork than he is on his extortionate cures. People will buy from you because they want to, not because they have no choice. I've got enough to live on for the time being, and if your theory is correct, then I'll be back in business in no time at all."
I do miss the huge stacks of cash from Nebelstadt, and I do mourn the fact that most of them weren't legal tender by the time I'd moved to Henford- but there was always a fresh start. With Eli by my side, I think we'll do well.
"I still don't know how we made that much money."
"Because people like your work, Eli," I tell him. "Just think about how many children are going to laugh and smile because of what you made. And better still, think of the cash!"
Eli beams to himself and chuckles, grabbing the stacks of Simoleons and heading to his room. "Thank you, Oskar. I really mean it. Thank you- for everything."
"And thank you, Eli- for making me realise that I can still revive my family's...hard work."
I have to keep holding back saying anything that'll make him paranoid. I just hope that, wherever my mother and father are now, that they're proud.
* * *
The day had been fine. Good, even. Once the night comes around, I sense another spiral coming on. Eli is asleep in his room. It must be past midnight.
I've been sitting here in the same place for hours, trying to erase any thought that comes into my mind.
The fish blood had done little to curb the bloodlust. Even from the other room, I could sense it. The gnawing hunger spreads throughout my entire body.
I have to keep telling myself that I'd never hurt him. Neither Violeta or I have ever, or would ever harm a young person, but I know my own mind would convince me otherwise. It's already trying its hardest.
I wouldn't do it. I know I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't hurt the boy, let alone drink his blood.
You would do it.
No, I wouldn't. Not under any circumstance.
I find myself counting the bats again. As usual, it's not making any difference, but it'll only get worse if I stop.
The images grow more vivid. This time, the boy is dead on the floor, and it's my fault.
There's a voice. It's Eli.
thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five...
"Oskar? What's going on? Why are you-"
"Eli, don't stop me."
"I'm confused. Why are you sitting-"
"You're not safe here, Eli."
"What are you talking about? Why are you sitting on the-"
"Eli, listen to me! You're not-"
"Oskar, calm down. Listen to me."
The world gradually fades back in. The room is dark, and Eli is standing above me, wide-eyed.The image of his soulless body flashes through my mind as I look at him. Dead, alive, dead, alive, like some kind of twisted experiment.
"Why are you sitting here? What's wrong? Why don't you think I'm safe?"
I don't say anything to him. I'd take feeling nothing over feeling this. I'll have to get used to it if Eli is to live with me for so many years, but how? Nobody else knows why this happens. I don't know how to properly deal with it, and I don't want to tell Eli anything- not about my vampirism, not about my afflictions. I hoped he'd never see me like this, but he doesn't seem worried, and he doesn't seem afraid.
I find myself curled up on the floor clutching my chest, trying to ease the cold, crushing feeling inside of it. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder.
"Are you worried about something?"
"I'm fine, Eli."
"Oskar...is there something...going on?"
"Going on? What are you talking about?"
His voice doesn't change. He doesn't lose his patience, and he doesn't falter.
"Well, my father would call it a 'weakness of temperament', but I don't want to call it that," Eli replies. "My father deals with those sorts of things all the time. You don't need to be ashamed. I'm not judging-"
"Eli, I told you, I'm fine!"
"My father might possibly have something that might-"
"I'm not paying your father for anything. Even if he had the cure to all ills, I wouldn't give him a Simoleon."
"That's not what I mean, Oskar. If one unit went missing...I doubt he'd notice-"
"Eli, you're not risking yourself for me. I'll be fine. Go back to bed."
With a sigh, Eli retreats to his room, and I make my way next door to Violeta. She's sitting in low light reading a book. We haven't spoken much; she's been busy with her art classes, and they seem to be going well.
Violeta
There's only one person who would be knocking on my door this late at night- and he's not just paying a call. He looks awful- bags under his eyes, and even paler and more dishevelled than usual. I felt a part of his pain. I too had not had a good drink in a long time, but I'd been telling myself not to, for his sake. My art classes had been a good distraction, channelling my desire to sink my teeth into my clients' throats into the artwork instead, but it would only last so long.
He lies there, and says nothing for a while. Being in touch with my feelings a little more had its ups and downs. Right now, I felt a crushing guilt. It's my fault that he's like this. I knew Oskar was a little different before I'd turned him, but the intrusive thoughts, the deep-seated belief that he was an out-of-control monster...those were all due to me.
No-one really speaks of the relationship between a vampire and their sire. It's not anything that would make sense to a mortal. For some people, it was romantic, lustful, a desire to keep someone you loved around for eternity with you. Sometimes the love was genuine. Other times, it was false, conditional, like Eugen's was. For some, it was a simple case of supply-and-demand- a desire for someone to slave after them for the rest of time. There were even times where people just did it for fun, and left them to fend for themselves, some kind of sick game.
For others, and for myself, there's almost a maternal element to it. For those who have enough heart to not walk away and leave them to their own devices, there's a lot of responsibility involved. You may not have been the one who gave birth to them, but you are the one responsible for their rebirth, and for me, there's little difference. Not quite a best friend, not quite a mother.
"How many this time, Oskar?"
He doesn't say anything.
"However many times this happens, you know you'd never hurt someone so young as Eli. We never would, no matter what. We aren't as cold-hearted as our minds like to tell us we are."
Many would think me a heartless creature, but there were plenty more heartless than me. Oskar and I had dealt with plenty, when our group at Nebelstadt was much larger. One of them broke our rule- killed a boy in his teens for his blood. We dealt with him appropriately.
"I can't deal with this anymore, Violeta- not whilst I'm here. Not whilst Eli is around...He isn't safe with me."
"You've dealt with it for this long, Oskar. It'll be fine- I promise. I'll look after you. You'd never harm Eli. Besides, he's safer with you than he is with Samuel Annorin."
He goes quiet again for a while.
"Eli tried to comfort me. I think he knows there's something wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you, Oskar..."
"You know what I mean," he replies, his voice shallow. "He even offered to see if his father had something to help."
"Even we couldn't afford anything from Annorin."
"No- he offered to steal from his father. I told him not to. I may have been a little strict about it, but I don't want him risking himself for me. I don't even know why he would."
"Well, I don't know the boy too well, but from what you tell me, he seems a kind-hearted young man," I reply. "He's happier as your apprentice than he was at home being berated by his father."
I notice him tense up a little, and his voice changes. "If Samuel Annorin didn't have magic in his blood, I'd drain him dry- him and every other deadbeat father in Henford."
I chuckle a little. "We can only dream, Oskar...though you and I may have to give in and hunt one night."
"But I don't want to-"
"I know you don't want to, but we don't have much choice. This is Henford- plenty of terrible people around here. There's bound to be a guilt-free meal somewhere, hm?"
After some further silence, he stops responding to me. I think he's fallen asleep.
Katlego
To our surprise, we weren't eyed with any suspicion sharing a room. Then again, most say it's only the nobility and the upper classes who'd turn their nose up at such a thing. Whilst Finchwick was the more affluent spot in Henford, there were still slivers of the hard-working people that made Finchwick what it was in the first place- one of those places being the inn. It was cosier than I remembered. Nia had spent the entire night staring at a drawing of an owl on the wall.
I didn't want to get out of bed at all. I wanted to stay snuggled with Ellie.
I gently wake her from her slumber, and she gives me a confused look. I wipe the drool from her lip.
"No-one heard us, did they?"
"They were probably too drunk to notice," I reply, laughing. "Anyway, we're off to Withernham in a moment, so you'd better get dressed."
* * *
Withernham looks rather beautiful in the late spring. There's banners with hearts everywhere- likely a sort of project made by the children of the town. Ellie shrivels up when I go to talk with the Peteran priest. She's mostly not one for conversation with most people. It's interesting to see exactly who Áine went for. It's a little humorous, in an adorable way. Of all the men Áine could have lay with in the middle of a forest, it was a soon-to-be-priest.
Thankfully, he seems keen to help us out.
"We are asking for a place to stay until we can make enough Simoleons to find a place to live. I used to own a little cottage just outside of here, but I hear it was torched in my abscence..."
Father Morgan bows his head. "I'm sorry, Katlego. We've done what we can to change people's minds, but it took the deaths of their children for them to realise what they'd lost without you here. When my predecessor passed away, she passed away in pain without your herbal remedies to ease it."
"Do not place that blame on my shoulders, Father!"
"I'm not," he says, calmly. "That isn't your fault. I'm not angry at you; this is all Annorin's doing. Almost every working person who lives in Henford has a reason to despise him. Gideon has worked hard over the years to convince people of your innocence, and he's done fairly well. He's still living in Willow Creek, I think. I don't know about Henry. Either way, Katlego, the refuge has been empty for a long time- you and Eleanor are welcome to stay as long as is needed. Your treatments were what kept Mother Joyce busy despite her eventual unwellness. I have a lot to thank you for."
He seems a sweet man. It's almost touching to hear, but more than touching, it's infuriating. Mother Joyce was always a kind and patient lady. She'd sometimes complain about her successor, but she was always thankful for my work. To know she'd died in agony...
"Thank you, Father Morgan. We both appreciate your kindness."
"It's my pleasure," he replies. "It's good to have you back, Katlego. And just Reynold is fine."
"Can I ask you something, Reynold?"
"Of course."
"When we arrived the other night in Henford, a man warned us of a werewolf around the area. Is it safe here?"
"The werewolf is no harm to most people," he replies, strangely quick. "There haven't been many werewolf sightings around here for a while, so there's no need to worry. Who did you speak to? Do you remember?"
"Hmm...Long white hair. Dark clothes. A bit of a speech impediment. From Windenburg, I think? I think his name was-"
"Oskar," Reynold cuts in, with a mix between a chuckle and a sigh.
"I ought to get back to my duties, but if you're at all interested in seeing Áine again, I can tell you where we live now. I think she'd be over the moon to see you again."
There's a warm feeling in my chest. I had greatly missed Áine- it would be good to catch up with her.
I'm still far away from my goal- but if people are moreso on my side, maybe I can get back into business after all. If Annorin tried to crack down on me, I'd have plenty of people on my side. Already, I had the backing of the Peteran abbot, a complete stranger who worked for Annorin somehow, Gideon, and also the apothecary Henry. It's a start.
As for seeing Áine again, maybe I could hire her as my helper again. It's all starting to come together. I should have returned here a long time ago. With the witches, I think I was stagnating. Here, there's plenty of chance for growth...and a little healthy retribution.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologise for that one electric streetlight! It won't happen again! : P This chapter was meant to be happier, but the coin flip landed on Oskar not being able to override his thoughts this time around...