A landscape of small journals filled the brownstone's parlour and the sleek wooden coffee table.

The once barren room now wafted with smoke from jasmine incense, scattered with papers and books. Ana filled the silence with the ongoings of a television show rife with humanity's struggle with moral philosophy in the afterlife and the scratch of her fountain pen across paper. There was the odd Chinese character he grasped from his world travels but he suspected the modernisation of many languages and their written words had him at a disadvantage. Something he'd remedy once he returned to his place amongst the living. Ana's brown eyes reflected the fluorescent lights overhead; they reminded him of oversteeped black tea with a splash of milk. A strange comparison but he couldn't quite think of any other colour.

She took a break from writing, matcha latte in hand. "Well, what do you think about this show?"

"This heaven is a rather ridiculous notion," he said. "I have never seen more discontent people in my life. This includes my siblings and the people they come into contact with. And that is quite the statement, darling."

She glanced at the screen. "I'm going to check on the potion. I'll be back but you should enjoy the rest of this season."

Kol remained in the parlour even though he wished to follow her into the kitchen. The show was a rather engrossing tale albeit ridiculous and Ana had taken to driving him out of the kitchen when making additions and adjustments to the potion. He had complained about the development until she warned him off about causing her to miss the perfect timing for each step.

Ana watched the clock on her phone, waiting for it to strike the magical number nine. The closest number to heaven, the number of longevity and eternity. Camellia pink steam rose from the simmering potion, the copper pot half-filled with the thick pearlescent liquid, and she held a pitcher of blessed water. In three days time, she'd add the secret ingredient that would alter the potion's properties. The true key to the resurrection.

The clock on her phone shifted and she poured the water in at the edge, careful to avoid too much disruption. This particular potion, without the secret ingredient, only prolonged life and healed wounds; it was her own creation. The possibility of resurrection was an accidental discovery on her part, a misstep that changed everything.

She rolled her shoulders back and knocked on the door to the parlour. "I think I'll sleep now. I'll have an earlier morning than usual tomorrow."

"Oh? And why is that now, darling?" Kol lounged on the sofa.

"Family responsibilities," she said.

His eyes darkened. "Ah, yes, the burden we all must bear when attached to a brood. One would hope that we could escape such hindrances."

"You should stay home after our morning run and watch the potion. It needs to turn red before noon tomorrow."

"This potion of yours is rather complex, dearest," he said. "Any idea who could have possibly concocted it? Once I return to the land of the living, I would like to peruse the excess of their works."

"Only someone nameless and desperate," Ana said softly. "Well, good night. I'll see you in the morning."

His eyes remained inscrutable as she disappeared to her temporary bedroom.

Against all odds, Kol enjoyed the mornings he spent with Ana.

The strange idyllic nature of her routine clashing against the unpleasant city streets plagued by people, debris, and scum had somehow wormed its way into his favour. He had thought himself incapable of satisfaction outside of the chaos and savagery he wore like a second skin. Perhaps it was the strange absence of thirst and desire. He had not known this freedom, untouched by baser instincts and overindulgence.

It had horrified him to no end when fragments of Ana reminded him of Elijah; the unceasing daily rituals, the seemingly austere mornings. But she tempered it with a softness his brother could never attempt to mimic. She wasn't inflexible like Elijah, bedevilled by his innate judgemental and stern nature. Where his brother acted out of rigidity and routine, she relished in it like comfort. She lived within the boundaries of her rituals like they offered her freedom. Perhaps they did.

Ana looked at him through her eyelashes over the kitchen counter. She had her daily drink in hand, already prepared for the day beyond these four walls they shared. "What did you think of the show?"

"I suppose it was a rather good twist," he said begrudgingly. "And all that drivel about moral philosophy could have some merit for you humans."

"Not for you vampires?"

He smirked. "You have yet to meet many vampires. We're all quite… unscrupulous."

"I know a few," she said. "I've met twice as many humans, much more indecent and immoral than the vampires I know."

He studied her and that damnable face of indecipherable emotions. "I wonder, darling, how similar are your kind to witches?"

"What do you mean?"

"Vampires and witches are infamously enemies due to the laws of nature. Abominations incongruent with the servants," he said. "Though, we've been known to ignore such limitations in the past when it comes to satisfaction."

He sent her a roguish smile at the end of that statement. A brief hint of a smile crossed her face as she watched him intently, a reflexive reaction.

"Once upon a time, people believed we were meant to banish demons from this plane of existence," Ana said. "But that was never the goal of the gods. We're simply here."

"And what were the goals of said gods, o divine emissary?"

She shrugged. "Beats me. They wouldn't tell me if I needed a new head of lettuce if I asked. I'm not even paid for this."

Kol laughed at her unusual, blase response; her plain indifference to the gods and their influence on the world. The control they had over her. He didn't quite understand her magic, yet, but he had yet to meet such an irreverent servant of the divine. He had met many religious brokers and those who believed without proof had much more respect than her. Ana wasn't quite defiant—more cool and jaded towards reality, well-worn to the fickle nature of power and dominion.

She was too young to be so disenchanted by the world around her but it was refreshing.

"All this talk of morals and humanity. Is it because of the show?" she asked.

"Not at all," he told her, flippant. "It's pointless, darling. In fact, most would say I'm their idea of a monstrous vampire. I am the reason why the phrase ripper exists. The Original Ripper, the worst of the worst."

She watched him, blank and impartial eyes surveying every inch of him. He wasn't quite sure why he was saying the things he was but the words poured out of him nevertheless. He wondered what she saw; the view of him through her eyes.

"Had I been in my body, I think I would've killed you when we first met. Drained you dry and left you for dead."

"You wouldn't be the first person I helped that tried to kill me at first." She rested her chin on her palm, unblinking. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Would you kill me once you discovered I was evil?"

"After all this work?" She tilted her head towards the pot simmering in the background. "I think the gods wouldn't like that."

Kol paused at her laconic words, the offhand delivery. They were upsetting, for reasons unknown to him.

Ana sighed. "But, are you? Evil, that is."

"The people who murdered me would say yes."

"And what would you say?"

"Yes," Kol said.

She had straightened the thick, silken blanket of her hair into a sleek look, similar to the one Rebekah favoured when he saw her last. It left her face bare, free for all to admire her gentle features. The sole factor was the polished and proper look didn't suit her. It erased all of the uniqueness inherent to her, to Ana—the wave in her hair, the lone curl at the crown of her head, the way she retreated into the soft knit of her sweater. Her fingers often sought the hems of her overlong sleeves out of habit or a need of comfort, one couldn't guess.

But, that unreadable face of hers was all the more prominent.

"You don't believe me?" he asked when she said nothing.

"No," she said simply, as if it were law.

"You wouldn't say that if you knew of the things I've done. The sins I've committed. The lives I've taken. The people I've tortured. The things I've done are nigh unforgivable. Perhaps even to your gods."

"I wouldn't be so quick to speak about the gods' judgement."

He wished to be corporeal in that moment, to touch her, to read her. Kol wanted to hear her heartbeat, to feel her pulse, to see the truth in her words.

"But I don't think you're asking about theirs." Ana set down her drink and stepped out from behind the kitchen island. She looked nothing like the girl he knew, the one he first met, in this skin of stiff black and formal angles. "I'd be stupid to think anyone is inherently evil or have a predisposition towards violence. It's a perspective, certainly, but a western one, and it's a form of absolution for someone's actions. Vampires were humans, once, and that's why you could never be enemies of nature or others without cause. Humans, and vampires alike, have a vast potential for great evil and great kindness, and they're all borne from our personal choices."

"And what do mine say of me?" He laughed bitterly. "You know nothing about who I am, darling. If anyone saw you now, they would prevent you from reviving me."

"Why does my judgement matter?" she countered. "I'm not the gods. I'm not you. You wanted to live, Kol. Why?"

She looked at him with those sunlit tea-brown eyes, clear as day. He couldn't move, unable to withdraw from her orbit. The gravitational pull she had on him was inexplicable. His reflection lingered in her eyes, a stranger, and yet, he never felt more free or himself than that moment where she held him without her hands.

"Kol," she said. His name had never sounded more right coming out of anyone's mouth. "I think that you're capable of being better than anyone could imagine. You're holding yourself back—afraid of the possibilities, afraid of your potential. Attaching a label to yourself is a limitation people cling onto out of a need for control."

"I can't say anything about what you've done or who you've wronged but I can say this—if you regret it, I think it's enough if you try to make amends, rectify your mistake, and prevent something similar in the future. If you don't, well, you have your reasons. Whether or not they're agreed upon by others is another matter entirely. What do you think of yourself? If you're unhappy about it, ask yourself why. You can always change."

If the gods had chosen her as their emissary, their guide for lost souls, he could understand why. This demure slip of a girl, so unfathomably young but reserved and sagacious, crept beneath his skin and unwound him in ways his own family had never attempted to. She had appealed to a sliver of him he hadn't known to exist and brought it forth to the cliff's edge but never pushed it into the choppy waters. That was entirely his choice and he had made it several times now. It seems that he'd do so once more.

Kol stared, drinking her in—this deceptive shade of a girl who could disappear with a shift of the light. He lingered there, watching and thinking. Not quite speechless but reluctant to disturb the atmosphere around them.

"I have to see my uncle," she said and picked up her drink. "Watch the potion. If it doesn't turn red, you won't be home for Christmas… if you celebrate that."

That quiet and lax sympathy, that wise tenderness, was a weapon. A blade buried beneath the ribs that one gladly walked into as long as she was the wielder. He pitied the poor souls that came before him, the ones who walked into peace at her behest. Before her modest mercy, no one stood a chance.

He hadn't quite understood the appeal to simply disappear, to walk into the light, but he did now. The willingness to move in the direction she pointed in. If Ana had insisted on it, he would've seen her reasoning in the light etched on her face, in the warmth of her words.

Ana smoothed out the wrinkles of her skin tight turtleneck and the lines of her slacks. Her trench coat fluttered around her legs as she stepped into the base floor of the skyscraper. She understood the need to impress potential clients and future partners with a statement of wealth and success but the grandiose waste was irritating even on the best days.

She observed the pristine lobby of white marble, sparkling glass, and stark metal lines as she wiped off her shoes and balanced a tray of coffee. Her leather messenger bag bounced against her hip.

Fifteen men dressed in black suits, strapped and armed to the teeth, dotted the main floor—five more men than normal. Ana pulled out her identification card for the girl at the front desk to scan and entered the private elevator. The Tokudaiji personal safety teams followed everyone, with a few exceptions, around the world at the behest of her grandfather even if most of them could defend themselves easily.

The elevator slowed to a stop near the top floor and she exited, hands in her pockets. Another Tokudaiji was visiting her uncle and considering her luck, it wasn't one of her cousins.

She walked towards the desk of her uncle's secretary and set down the tray. The girl looked up at her in surprise, big brown eyes wide and frazzled.

"A caramel macchiato for the beautiful girl dealing with today's bullshit," Ana said. "Which irritating relative of mine is it today, Sachi?"

"Thank you," she said gratefully and took the coffee from Ana's hands. "It's Clan Elder Yutaka. Mister Tokudaiji is stressed over negotiations and he's not making it any better with the constant emails and this visit."

Ana examined her. Sachi was the perfect secretary; professional, put together, and efficient while remaining amiable. She preferred some form of outerwear due to the office's colder temperature but kept to the typical pressed blouse and pencil skirt combination. There were a few wrinkles in her clothes, a furrow in her smooth brow, and strewn papers riddled her desk.

"I'll solve it," she reassured.

"Thank you," Sachi said, relieved.

She picked up the tray of drinks and knocked on her uncle's office door once before she opened the door. Two men sat across from each other, separated by a slim wooden desk.

"—honestly, Kentaro, does your secretary know how to do her job? Whoever wishes for your time can wait—"

"I wasn't aware you had any authority on the ongoing affairs of Uncle Kentaro's office."

The man with tightly coiffed hair and bespoke clothing with his back facing her turned his head, greying hair prominent against the smooth and pale skin of his temples. Yutaka was undoubtedly a handsome man in his youth, as most Tokudaijis were, even with his harsh frowns and wrinkled forehead.

"Clan Elder Yutaka," she said blandly. "An unexpected pleasure to see you after all this time."

"Anastasia," he said stiffly. "What a surprise."

"Is it, now?"

Ana ignored his scowl as she set down the tray of drinks on her uncle's desk. Kentaro graciously accepted and promptly hid a smile behind his coffee cup. He was the third eldest and second favourite in her line of maternal uncles. A mild-mannered handsome man and permissive uncle who spoiled her with any luxury she asked for.

"I hope you don't take offence to the fact I didn't bring you a drink. After all, you're supposed to be back in Japan," she continued, just as bland. "Is grandfather aware of this visit?"

"Sanetoshi is not privy to my every movement."

"Interesting," she said. "Is that why you commandeered Tokudaiji resources allocated by the clan head without permission? I recognised a few faces down in the lobby that weren't here a week ago. If I checked, would the family's private jet also be here?"

He remained silent at her censure and pursed his lips.

"Tetsuo informed me of your responsibilities with the monks. It's a shame you were unable to persevere with following through on your obligations despite the fact grandfather charged you with it."

Yutaka stood up. "I'll be in touch, Kentaro. As it is, I can tell when I am unwanted. I will be returning to Japan shortly."

Ana sat down and crossed her legs, watching him leave and enter the elevator. Sachi glanced in through the glass walls and sent her a small heart with her hands. She winked and turned back to her uncle.

"You should tell him I'm in the country next time," she said. "I'll drown him in the Gowanus. It's disgusting there and he would deserve it."

"You should be more careful," he reprimanded with a smile.

"What can they do to me that they haven't already?" She shrugged. "I'm cut off from the Tokudaiji family fortune."

Kentaro shook his head and set down his coffee. "Now, what do you have for me?"

She pulled out several colour-coded files from her messenger bag and laid them out for him. Paperclipped to each manila folder was a short summary page she had typed up and printed out.

"Leverage," she said.

He flipped through every folder, glancing over the summary pages, before he slumped into his leather office chair. "You do not know how much trouble you've saved me from."

"It wasn't much trouble," she said easily. "But you should really learn negotiation skills or get someone else to, uncle. Relying on information means nothing if you can't convince people to side with you even if you're right."

"Perhaps," he said carefully. "You can return home and teach someone to take over your role in the company. Your grandfather misses you, he constantly says so."

Ana's lips quirked up. "I call him every two days. He's complaining on the family calls to make sure everyone feels guilty and sides against the elders. Also, because he wants you all to visit him more."

Kentaro rubbed his eyes. "That old man is always playing games."

"That's why our family is doing so well. That and the clan elders are no longer interfering in our business."

"Mina," he sighed. "Please don't tell me you're continuing to antagonise them."

"Uncle Kentaro, you know better than that. I'm too busy."

"Try not to anger them too much," he said. "They're acting out of sorts. Stressed by events at home."

"Maybe they shouldn't meddle in matters that could incriminate themselves," Ana suggested. "I'm not even bothering them right now and they're being dragged through the mud. Imagine if I got involved."

"Please, do not."

She laughed softly and leaned back into her seat. "Well, how did my re-proposal with RENAI Inc. go?"

"Well, when the CEO saw your name signed at the bottom, he immediately folded," he said dryly. "If only the rest of us held so much power."

"It's not power, it's favour," she said.

"Are we rejecting another arranged marriage proposal?" He took a sip of his coffee. "It'd be such a shame to say no."

"Not the case. Saint-Jacques owes me a few favours and he didn't know I was a Tokudaiji. That contract was a complete insult and he knew it."

Her uncle sighed. "Why don't you return to the company full-time?"

"I said I'll think about it, uncle," she said. "Let's not rush it especially when I'm doing much more important things."

"And what are you doing these days besides school?"

"The gods' bidding, surveillance, training," she said. "You should look at the files more closely. There's information on the Chois, Sanadas, Tams, and the developing alliance between the Sajis and Yamaguchis."

He paused and straightened. "The Sajis?"

"Aunt Atsuko told me about her second cousin interfering in her brother's board. Hiroyuki went sleuthing. I compiled the information from loose lips."

"And why did my own wife and son avoid telling me any of this?"

"A bit difficult when you aren't home for dinner," Ana said. "So, she went to the resident problem solver."

Kentaro rubbed his face. "Shit."

"You should pick up some yellow camellias today."

"I still know my wife's favourite flowers," he said dryly. "I haven't been on a ten year voyage, Mina. The memory of everything your aunt loves is embedded into my brain."

Ana pulled out a business card and set it on his desk. "Yes, but did you know where to get any in New York?"

"Dear gods, you're a lifesaver," he said.

"Glad to help."

Ana hid her hands in her trench coat pockets.

The sluggish streets of New York City passed by her. Something about the coming western winter holidays inspired a tedious listlessness in the city, punctuated by the overcast weather and the chill in the air. Others might have detested it, with their perception of the disheartening ambience, but Ana appreciated the bleakness of the city, the briskness surrounding them.

This time of year in the west roused a wanting in her, to burrow beneath blankets before flickering fires with a book in hand and a movie in the background. Simple, faint desires.

She wondered if Kol understood such a thing after years of violence and extravagant indulgence. He reminded her of the teenagers she once went to school with—lost and restless, satiating himself with things he didn't want but deluded himself into thinking he did. They were rich, privileged beyond belief, and without direction, unless handed them and coddled into a path.

She entered the brownstone and hung up her things as she peeked into the parlour where Kol was absorbed with the television.

"I'm back," she called out. "Did the potion turn red?"

"Looks absolutely bloody, darling," Kol drawled. "If only it didn't have such a glow about it."

"Good," she said. "You'll be home for Christmas, then."

That night, at nine o'clock exactly, she poured in another pitcher of the blessed water. Anastasia stretched her hand over the simmering pot of pearlescent scarlet, small bubbles forming on the surface of the concoction. She inserted a needle beneath the skin of her pinky finger and it welled with blood.

Nine drops of it fell into the potion and dissolved as the wound closed with a little coaxing.

The solution blackened, thick bubbles brewing at the top, before it shifted into a carmine. The pearlescent nature had become more prominent, almost similar to a shimmer or diamond dust with each sluice from the stirring ladle.

Two more days of this simple addition and Kol could return to the land of the living.

Ana had obstructed him from entering the kitchen, again, but not over the potion. She had, however, allowed him to speak to her through the parlour door while she worked.

"Rebekah has terrible taste in men," he told her. "I have never liked a single one that dogged her steps. Nik and I chased most of them off, in the end. She's probably still trying to find love to no end with Nik's interference."

"Isn't that what all older brothers are like?" she said absentmindedly, voice louder than normal.

"Oh, you have some experience?"

"All my older male cousins," she said. "I was supposed to have an arranged marriage. No man in the country passed the test, apparently. It didn't help that they all had opposing favourites."

"An arranged marriage? Aren't those past practices frowned upon these days?"

"Perhaps in the west but the west, despite it's reputation, isn't as open-minded as advertised. It's much more efficient, in all honesty," she said. "You can come in now."

He passed through the door and stared at the spread on the kitchen island.

A generous bowl of an autumnal orange soup with thick slices of lobster in the centre sat in front of his stool, steam rising from the low bowl. Chives, thinly sliced scallions, and a crosshatch of creme fraiche garnished the lobster bisque while fragrant and loaded dirty rice rested on the side. In the centre of the island was a variety of cheesecakes—the traditional New York style, chocolate, strawberry, caramel… too many to truly name.

Kol turned to look at Ana and her typical unreadable face was obviously pleased as she leaned back.

"I thought your last meal as a ghost should be something special," she said. "I normally don't cook this kind of cuisine so it isn't my personal recipe. I borrowed a friend's but they were from New Orleans so I trust them."

He stared at her, taking in each inch, as if searching for something else. Kol wasn't sure what he was looking for. This was Ana—she had returned to her usual self with relaxed clothes and soft black ocean waves rolling down her back. Her tea-brown eyes laid upon him expectantly.

"I made the New York style one but I bought the others from the nearby bakery. They're well-known for their cheesecakes," she continued and extended her hand. "Well, Kol?"

He wordlessly placed his hand in hers and sat down at the island.

He cleared his throat. "Thank you."

"No problem," she said easily. "Well, is this your Ratatouille moment?"

"Yes," he said.

Not one spoonful of the food had passed through his lips yet but he could already tell. Kol looked at her, clad in a knitted sweater and floral apron. A strange sort of light enveloped her, a pale blush of rose, and she released her hair from the silken ribbon holding it all back.

He dipped his spoon into the lobster bisque and raised it to his lips. The luscious and creamy soup glided over his tongue, full yet light. Refreshing yet comforting. Hints of tomato and white wine highlighted the sweetness of the lobster. He closed his eyes at the taste.

It was the best lobster bisque he'd ever had.

Kol ate in silence, savouring and taking solace in each dish. He had counted the minutes she stayed in the kitchen making dinner, impatiently waiting to see her face to face. Now, those minutes melted away. He could understand now, that relief, that profound delight depicted in a children's film. The sudden rush of memory, the undeniable warmth in each bite.

Ana watched him with a hint of a smile on her face.

A smile tugged on his lips, reflexive, unintended, but there all the same.

Kol had descended into a thoughtful pondering after dinner.

Anastasia had finished the potion off with the last nine drops of her blood. It would simmer away until the afternoon, tomorrow, until it would fit into the giant stainless steel camping thermos she brought with her over the border. She massaged her neck and stared at the moon outside of her window. The skies were starless due to the countless amount of pollution from the city.

She opened the parlour doors. "It's a six hour drive. Anything I should bring for you?"

"Blood," Kol said.

"...I hope you don't mean mine. Because I'm anaemic and vitamin D deficient." She sat down beside him on the couch. "I fainted the one time I donated blood and they told me I couldn't do it ever again."

"I guarantee you're delicious regardless." His lips lifted into a roguish grin, revealing pearly straight teeth, a hint of sharpness on the canines.

"Let's not make this weird," Ana said, "or I'll leave you in limbo."

"I'll haunt you forever," he retorted.

"I'll make you find true peace."

He laughed, head thrown back. "Only you could threaten someone with such a thing, dearest."

"I guess I'll break into a blood bank tomorrow morning," she said. "Then you can show me around that little backwater town you called the heart of the supernatural world."

i'm not that happy with this chapter, especially the writing. i might come back to edit this, in fact, but either this comes out now or i'll just dwell on it forever. i've been super busy with real life events, so hopefully, this will suffice!

follow me on tumblr and pinterest delicateseraphs. i'll answer any questions you have and i do post excerpts at times! thank you for all the comments, they give me such motivation to write.