London was dark, wet, and filthy. Mr. Claire was minding his own business as he intermittently checked in with his family. The rush of memories for him was much slower than the other revived ones that Dr. Frankenstein brought back from the dead. He sauntered over every now and then to keep an eye on Vanessa, pleased that she had found some peace-or so it seemed to him. His attraction to her was her kindness and beauty, naturally. Yet, somewhere in the recesses of his mind he felt there was a deeper connection as if they had met before. Not that any of it really mattered; he was done being an angry monster because of his past. Mr. Claire sought out for the first time since he had been reborn hope for a loving family in a bright future, even at the risk of his old family fearing him.
Even on that thought, he mused that his companion, Vanessa, would always be there regardless. A smile spread across his blackened lips revealing ghostly alabaster teeth. Here he stood near the street where Vanessa lived with her unusual companions, and even noticed the good Doctor visit on occasion. He knew that the Doctor loved Lily, but Mr. Claire knew that even Dr. Frankenstein loved Vanessa in some way. That was the thing of her, her faith and soul-though imperfect-was enticing for both pleasant and ill company.
Mr. Claire looked almost longingly at Vanessa's window where she would stare out to the sea, or so he imagined. He wished that she felt no hardship and he endured none either and that they'd both go to a heaven away from it all. He did not hold it against her when she ran away frightened. What hurt the most is that she was kind enough to do that; not because she was scared of him, but what would follow. So, it was better to love and lose than never at all. He was used to being hated, gawked, and alone. The most tragic part is that she did love him on a plutonic and compassionate level and walked away for both their sakes. That is what hurt. It wasn't the simple hatred but being too close to heaven and never really in reach.
Golden eyes searched for Vanessa in the windows, but they were darkened. A barouche pulled up to the front entryway and Mr. Claire noticed a woman exit the cab. He watched curiously, his breath almost taken away instantly. This young woman looked just like Vanessa but her hair was parted differently and her eyes-though that same shape-were a light brown. Vanessa had blue eyes with forest green flecks that reflected the earthy moors in England. This woman's skin was a little more golden tan, probably from living outside of the cloudy English weather. This mystery girl was the exact height and shape of Vanessa, which drew Mr. Claire in. Eagerly watching, he pondered if her resemblance made her a relative of the lovely Miss Ives. Curiously, the woman exited the carriage with few bags and belongings and went for the front door. The coach left, but the woman stayed.
Interestingly, the girl didn't look poor nor begging for money, yet she was left there bare and alone. The young girl went inside after the door opened a little and after a short pause. Mr. Claire waited to ensure that all was all right. Going on his way, he thought for a split second that if Vanessa was kind, so might be her kin, and if Vanessa was courting the man she was with, then perhaps this girl would be pursued by Mr. Claire himself. Pushing the idea out of his mind, he could only focus on getting back with his other family to see if hope still slept there in his family's hearth.
Vanessa barely slept after her session of hypnotherapy to remember all the horror she'd forgotten before the surgery at the asylum. Part of her memory she was robbed of was due to those horrid scientists torturing her like a rotten vegetable. The other part her own mind made her forget to ensure its own survival-which could easily be reversed, as evident by her appointment.
Vanessa arrived home and prayed in her room with a reclaimed rosary, whilst she sat on her bed. All of a sudden she heard a brief faint whisper, "My sister I am coming to help." Frightened, she looked about with a furrowed brow. Surely this must have been a trick of the Fallen trying to lure her in into their grasp. Nearly jumping out of her skin, she heard the knocker clack on the heavy steel door. There was a sense of peace, which gave Vanessa pause for concern. Trudging slowly down the stairs, she peered through the crack of the door to find an interesting character. Vanessa perked at the serendipitous moment and allowed the newcomer in to discuss the information this girl had. It was almost like fate that brought her to Vanessa's care, and Vanessa sensed that this friend was a long awaited answer to a long and painful fight that Vanessa prayed for.
God gave Vanessa this long awaited relief for the battle ahead, but there was also a hint of despair with the hope. It was a foreboding shadow of unspeakable horror that was masked by potential hope; in the presence of this guest, Vanessa could only sense the hope. If the other presence was felt it meant that both Vanessa and the guest would be doomed to darkness just like everyone else if the Fallen had their way if they knew of the girl who showed up on Sir Malcolm's property.
The Visitor that came long and far in a stuffy black cabby, wore simple black clothing with little color. Colors were faded of the ones that were present and the reason for this change of attire was simply the conservatism of London. The young woman who traveled bravely alone is a Gypsy. The nomadic child was used to a luxurious life on the road, with a large caravan that traveled across continental Europe. Bloods mixed with other blood as water mixes with salt and sugar, as her father used to say. That did not mean, however, that the grains of salt and sugar didn't know where they came from before they became one with the water. Though the woman had trunks of money from all over with her father and large family in the caravan, they were considered lower class because of their anchorless lives and mixed ancestry. With money, clothes, food, tobacco, and the carts for homes, she did not need nor want much else. Like the Tortuga, the horse cart is her homey shell.
Oddly enough, a Gypsy would venture away every now and then before returning to the family hive. Usually it was because they'd finally find someone in the continent and settle down, or find a monastery or temple where they'd spend time with God. The young woman came, at the age of twenty-two, alone to the British Isles to seek out her other close relative. She came into London and left her ride on the footsteps of Sir Malcolm's home. The mansions she visited were long vacated and she was told that Sir Malcolm and his neighbor, Miss Ives lived in the city. She hoped that Miss Ives would be here, or else the expensive journey was fruitless. The lady couldn't give up for the fate of the world depended on her to get to Miss Ives before she gave into temptation of the Fallen Ones. Looking at a small slip of scribbled paper in her hand, she checked the address. After paying the man, the coach left her and her small bags of clothes and money at the large town house before her. She knew how to forage but actually having food and lodging would be not completely foreign to her if she stayed here long enough. While briefly checking the address in her hand again, she whispered a little prayer before knocking on the large steel door.
If anyone had heard her, she said, "God please let this be it. My sister, I am coming to help." She waited for a good few minutes and almost gave up hope until the door slowly opened.
"Hello?"
"Hello."
"Who are you?"
"Are you Miss Vanessa Ives?"
"Depends. Who are you to inquire?"
"If you are Miss Ives, I have information about your mother I'd think you need to hear about." The young woman gently put. Curiously, Vanessa said, "We can discuss it then inside, but what kind of information? Who are you?"
Sighing nervously in the entryway the woman then said, "If you are Miss Ives, and I hope you are, I am Esmerelda…your sister."
Vanessa speechlessly smiled a small smile of surprise of a little disappointment and hope, holding the door open for her guest. Esmerelda came in and Vanessa closed the door. They both looked a little relieved out of the silence.
In the foyer Vanessa said, "So my mother and your mother-?"
"Is our mother; I am your half-sister, Esmerelda." She repeated. They both looked at each other in awe and processed the undiscovered realization of a hidden family tree.