It wasn't long before Daniela was able to steady her breaths and ease the tides of sorrow. Given how quickly her moods shifted, this didn't come as much of a surprise to Ethan anymore. After thoroughly wiping her eyes and face with a napkin, Daniela was back to (mostly) normal, and they dug into breakfast.
Ethan took a spot on the sofa, while Daniela sat on the cushioned armchair by the narrow side of the coffee table.
Things were quiet at first, and Ethan took the moment to observe Daniela, who now carried herself with the same carefree nonchalance as when they first entered the library. As if she hadn't just exploded into a fit of tears and hugged it out with him.
Ethan couldn't help but ask, "You okay?"
"Hmm," Daniela hummed around a mouthful of bread. "It's just not as good as Bela's cooking."
It wasn't exactly what Ethan was asking. But if that's what Daniela was fixated on, then it stood to reason she was okay for the most part.
They were halfway through breakfast now, but Ethan had an inkling it wasn't Bela who cooked the meal. Bela's cooking was masterful. The type of homely food you had to pay top dollar for – or find just the perfect person to put a ring on for.
Breakfast was by no means bad, but it didn't compare to the food Bela personally prepared. Covering his mouth with a hand, Ethan agreed, "Yeah. A little too much salt, I think."
"Yes," Daniela laughed slightly. "And do you want to know why that is?"
Ethan only squinted at Daniela and gave a slight nod of the head. After all the shit he pulled this morning, it was an easy guess.
"Sister is too busy toiling away in the great hall where you made a mess." Daniela's tone had a teasing hint to it – even though his rib-shattering experience with Cassandra hardly seemed like a lighthearted matter.
If Daniela thought his clash with Cassandra in the hall was bad, wait until she took a peek into the lower dungeons.
Diverting the topic from the hall's new stains of blood and wine, Ethan gestured with his fork, "Has Bela been cooking a lot lately?"
Ethan glimpsed Daniela's cheeky smile, even as she covered her full mouth with a dainty hand. "Quite a lot, yes. The past two weeks in particular, when you first moved in. I am sure you have something to do with Bela's return to cooking."
And there they went back to whatever the deal was between him and Bela. And the all too casual term of Ethan moving in to the castle, rather than acknowledging how he'd been sickled in the legs and dragged around the floor screaming and flailing.
"I really lucked out, didn't I?" Ethan cracked a dry half-smile as he wiped his mouth. "Got some real charming movers that helped drag me into my new home."
"Oh, we're charming, are we?" Daniela answered right back with a toothy grin.
Ethan gave a cross between a scoff and a chuckle. "Yeah, you in particular nearly hooked me up to the ceiling, didn't you? What – did you want me to have a nice view from the room up there?"
To Daniela's credit, she looked the slightest bit sheepish. She bit down on her lip, and her eyes evaded his. She was quick to return them to their original line of conversation.
"I suppose I owe you my thanks for getting Bela dearest back in the kitchen to work that magic of hers." Daniela turned her knife over in her hands for a moment after slicing into her omelet. "Tell me, how did you get Bela to start cooking for you – and for the rest of us?"
It was odd to think back to that very first slice of country bread that Bela had fed him. She'd baked it herself and appeared to take a measure of pride in the fact. That pride had been even more evident when he started chowing down and giving in to his ravenous appetite. He had to swallow down the chuckle that came with the memory – of his poking fun at her and the damn bread that was her pride and joy.
"I didn't." Ethan shrugged. "She just… did. Bela wanted to make sure my body recovered in time for the next bloodsucking sessions."
Daniela's eyebrows pitched in that dubious look of hers – as if thinking he'd done or said something deep and profound to convince Bela to start showing off her culinary skills.
"Is that so?" Even before the words left Daniela's mouth, it was painfully clear she didn't believe him.
"Had Bela not been cooking much before you three caught me?" Ethan figured it was better to be the one asking questions, rather than let Daniela pry further, then doubt his answers anyway.
With a casual shrug, Daniela barely finished chewing when she answered, "She only started about a decade ago, but never cooked regularly."
Ethan paused; his spoonful of veggies hovered in the air for a moment now that his attention was fully captured. It was a definitive period of time Daniela had highlighted – one he hadn't quite caught before. "Why a decade ago?"
With her mouth still full of chewed bread, Daniela gestured vaguely towards her head. The reply that followed was nonchalant, "That's when she remembered."
Bingo.
Ethan leaned in Daniela's direction by a fraction, his spoonful of vegetables wholly forgotten. His eyes ran all over the redhead's face, searching for any signs or hints that she may be pulling his leg, or giving him any sort of false information.
Considering all of Daniela's attention was directed towards her food rather than him, there was no reason to doubt her. A sense of wistfulness was set in her features as she tore a chunk of bread, smiling all the while.
"What a day that was," Daniela laughed softly once she swallowed her food. She was back to expertly spreading butter on her bread as she added with an air of drama, "Bela Dimitrescu's last hunt! She was chasing some man-thing through the village, when…"
Daniela's eyes finally returned to Ethan, and her preparation of the buttered bread ceased. Her big eyes bore into Ethan's own for a moment, before she tilted her head. "Bela hasn't told you this story yet, has she?"
Ethan really needed to work on his poker face if it was that dead of a giveaway.
He didn't bother lying. "She hasn't." Then, in a pitiful attempt at charm, he smiled at Daniela, black eye, battered face and all. "I'd love to hear it though."
Daniela giggled, but gave a firm shake of her head. "Save the smiles for my sister, silly man. It is not my story to tell." She gestured with her fork to the door leading out, "If you want to learn of how Bela remembered everything, then you should ask her."
Ethan tried just the same, "Please?"
Daniela gave him a toothy smile, leaned forward, and tapped him once on the nose. "No."
He didn't bother trying to swat Daniela's hand. He simply scrunched his face up in displeasure and flinched away. Once Daniela reeled her hand back in, he glared at her without any of the usual venom. She simply turned her focus back to breakfast.
Ethan could drop it for now. After how his last conversation with Bela had gone, it was obvious that her past, lost and blurry as it may be, meant a lot to her. He was dying to know more – to uncover how it was Bela unearthed her memories, and her humanity along with them. But learning of those circumstances through Daniela didn't feel too respectful of Bela and her memories. They were her secrets, and it was only Bela who should reveal them to him.
The Dimitrescu's youngest was right – he had to hear this from Bela herself, when the time was right.
He had all the time in the world, after all.
Although, the train of thought did stir another line of thinking within Ethan. If Bela had recovered her memories years – no, decades – after she turned into a bug-woman, then –
"What about Cassandra? Does," Ethan had to pause and consciously not refer to her as that psycho bitch, "Does your sister remember anything from before?" He kept his voice soft and levelled as Daniela held his gaze. "Did she have any big moments like Bela where it all came back to her?"
Daniela bit down on her bottom lip, and she tore her eyes off of Ethan, choosing instead to settle them on her plate. The longer the silence drew on, the more downcast Daniela appeared. Her shoulders sagged. Her brows furrowed. Her fingertips fidgeted with her butter knife.
Ethan added, "With how things stand between us, I don't think it's a good idea to ask her that myself." He spoke with a wry smile, "I kinda like having all my arms and legs attached to my body, you know? If I start prying, I'm sure she's gonna finish what she started." Ethan raised his right hand up in emphasis – wriggling the stub of his missing finger.
"Cassandra was…" Daniela fiddled with the half-buttered slice of bread for a moment. Her lips hung open for a few seconds, as though nervously searching for the right words. Emotions rolled over her face, one after the other – anger, hope, despair, happiness, sadness – they all took their toll on Daniela as the thoughts and memories ran amuck in her mind. Eventually, Daniela licked her lips, sighed, and settled on, "She wasn't always like that."
"She was different." There was a deep sadness that filled Daniela's eyes when she glanced Ethan's way. "We could speak to each other for days on end, once. We had our differences, but what siblings do not have those? In spite of that, we understood each other. Or at least…" Daniela's downcast gaze returned to her now forgotten plate of food. "I thought we did."
Ethan remained silent. He listened intently and waited for Daniela to gather her thoughts before speaking once more.
"With each year that passes, Cassie reminds me more and more of how Bela was in the early days."
I miss the old Bela – the one from years ago who spilled more blood than I ever did.
Cassandra's words reverberated through the chasm of Ethan's mind.
Just like the first time they had been uttered, Ethan couldn't imagine their roles to be reversed – for Bela to be the blood-drunk psycho with nothing but torture and sadism on her mind. But if that were true – and now Daniela was alluding to it as well – then Ethan was in for an enlightening, if not indescribably heavy talk with Bela in the future.
Or, Bela would do everything in her power to ensure he never found out about her sordid, bloody past. Chances were that it could go either way. Ethan had his own traumatic past with the Baker House which Bela hardly knew the details of. That wasn't something he was eager to share with Bela. Not that he didn't trust her – and it wasn't lost on Ethan just how much he trusted his jailer – but more that he wasn't eager to revisit the hell that had shaped him into who he was today.
"There is not much that Cassie remembers," Daniela rubbed a thumb along the slice of bread in hand. "What little she does remember is nothing good. Downright awful, in fact."
With a deep breath, Daniela continued on with that forlorn look in her eyes, "Years and years of her nightmares of those bad days, and hunting alongside Bela – now I can hardly recognize the Cassandra I once knew."
"The difference between her and Bela is that Bela remembered." Daniela looked up from her plate to meet Ethan's own frown. "Bela had a lighthouse to guide her home." The redhead's gaze deepened for a moment, truly boring into Ethan as she muttered, "She still does."
Daniela's throat bobbed with a gulp. "Cassie does not. I fear if she remembers anything more, it would only be more darkness and pain. I don't think Cassie's poor heart can take any more memories."
"I miss the old days, before," Daniela paused for a beat, clenched her jaw, then continued, "Before everything. Before she became who she is now. I love her to death, but it kills me to see her like this. I know you probably don't believe me, given what she –"
Daniela cut herself off, and her eyes went to his arms, crisscrossed by scars. "Given what we did to you. But still, I miss her so much."
Ethan's head was ready to begin spinning from all the information.
Yet at the same time, the pieces were all beginning to fall into place. All those disjointed images – the fragments and snippets of information – they were finally coming together to form a larger picture.
Bela was once a cruel monster – one that was apparently far worse than Cassandra.
Cassandra, having nothing but darkness to haunt her dreams and her very being, fell in line with Bela, and they let all the rage out in the only way they knew how.
Bela remembered, and Cassandra did not.
Daniela's phrasing – Bela Dimitrescu's last hunt – implied Bela started trying to turn her life around a decade ago, perhaps to varying results and the occasional relapse.
That left Cassandra alone in her bloodlust and sadism, driving a wedge between herself and Bela – possibly the last person to truly relate to Cassandra.
Cassandra was isolated and alone now more than ever. With one sister trying to swear off of bloodshed after decades of nothing but – and the other secluding herself in her library out of sheer fear of herself – who did that leave Cassandra with, but herself?
There was their mother, but judging by how she didn't seem to understand Daniela's slew of issues, what hope was there to understanding Cassandra's? Ethan didn't doubt that Lady Dimitrescu cared for her daughters, but no mother was perfect – and Cassandra's sadism and bloodlust likely made her the ideal huntress anyway. Her current condition was undoubtedly nothing but beneficial to the Dimitrescu House. Why would the Lady seek to correct that if she didn't see anything to be corrected?
It must be an embittering thing to witness Bela's about-face, spurred on by her brighter, happier memories of long ago. Cassandra didn't have that, and perhaps she couldn't have that, given the image Daniela was painting of the little memories Cassandra could recollect.
It took a special kind of twisted past to turn someone into the kind of person Cassandra was. Ethan couldn't even begin to guess the sort of pain she must have endured in life. If Ethan had died, gone back to life with a clean slate, only to be haunted by nothing but his memories of the Baker House – shit, he may just become a murderous psychopath too.
His taunts in the Great Hall trickled to the forefront of his mind – all his barks directed towards Cassandra, telling her that she was pathetic, telling her that she was nothing. That had gotten a rather visceral reaction out of her. Had those barbs of his hit too close to home, somehow? Had such jeers come from someone else long, long ago?
Ethan let out a quiet sigh as he took the moment to recognize there was indeed more to Cassandra than simply being the deranged psycho bitch.
With that well of information, it only left one sister unaccounted for.
"What about you, Dani?" Ethan asked. "What's your story?"
From the brooding sadness that hungover Daniela prior, now she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. When she blinked the surprise away, a sad smile settled on her lips.
"I don't have a story."
Daniela leaned back in her chair. Rather than nervously butter her bread, Daniela returned to wringing her hands on her lap. Her nails scratched against one another as she admitted with a shrug, "I remember nothing of the past. Nothing happy, nothing traumatic."
"This is all I have." She gestured to the library around her, and Ethan couldn't help but feel his heart break seeing the utter sadness in her smile. "Other people's stories."
That led back to all the care in the world Daniela had for her library – even if its messy state may lead one to think otherwise. All these books – these stories of hundreds, if not thousands of others – Daniela placed all her stock in them, since she had none of her own.
A part of Ethan wanted to be sorry for her, but at the same time, he felt it may be better this way. Bela had posed a similar idea the other night. If she didn't remember her past, then there would be no nagging memories at the back of her head, taunting her of the better days that would never return. While Bela had ultimately admitted she would not forget them if she could, Daniela didn't have that option. Her past was locked away. No happy memories, but nothing dark and fucked up either.
"I guess that is what drew me to the library when my sisters and I first came to be." Daniela soon confirmed Ethan's thoughts. She ran her fingers through her hair – along the undercut – in a nervous manner. It drew Ethan's attention to a gnarled scar on Daniela's head that he hadn't noticed prior. It was faint enough to mostly go unseen through the buzzed section of hair without extra scrutiny. Ethan had a feeling he wouldn't get the full story behind that scar any time soon, since it was a fair guess that Daniela herself didn't know where it came from.
"It feels comforting to be…" Daniela spoke softly, her eyes settling on one shelf towards the central skylight. "Surrounded by other stories. At least in here, I can see the world through the eyes of all these authors."
It further reinforced the deduction Ethan had once made – that the sisters didn't get to see the world beyond this village. They were as trapped to the surrounding area as Ethan was to this castle. Through the rich literature of the library, Daniela could see a world so much larger than her own.
The rest of their breakfast was consumed in silence, heavy with contemplation. Ethan found himself wrapped up in his thoughts, abundant in revelations. There was Bela's past, bloodier and darker than he initially imagined. There was the new light that shone on Cassandra – the beginnings of an understanding as to why she was as fucked up as she was. And of course, there was Daniela – the blankest slate with her emotions on a hair trigger, a deep pit of remorse, and a muddling sense of self.
The complexity of it all reminded Ethan a little too much of the Baker Family. Just like in Louisiana, he'd spent a traumatic chunk of his time screaming, running for his life, and squeezing the trigger of one firearm or another until his hands blackened with gunpowder. And towards the end of his time with the Bakers, he'd come to see them as more than they were at the surface level. There was always a deeper level to everything. The Dimitrescu Family was no exception.
They returned to work soon after, but not before Daniela first went through her ritual of checking the lights. Ethan knew better by now than to question it out loud. So instead, he watched Daniela in silence from the central skylight, while the latter circled the room.
There were a dozen possible reasons why Daniela might be so particular about the candelabras and lanterns. Maybe a misaligned candelabra had once set a book alight somewhere. Maybe she was afraid of the dark, and that included the smallest shadows that would be leftover if one light had been snuffed out.
They weren't particularly good guesses, but they were all Ethan had at the moment as he watched and waited. Maybe he could ask Daniela about it sometime when she was in a better mood.
Ethan shifted from where he stood when the sun got in his eyes. He took a slight step to the side, even as the thick clouds above soon overlapped and obscured the sun in no time. It drew Ethan's attention to the frosty glass caked in snowflakes, and the ice which clung to the skylight's frame. Despite his captivity, Ethan had to be grateful for the castle's abundance of warmth. He was pretty sure he would have frozen to death during his fight in the village, were it not for the physical exertion keeping him warm.
Once Daniela was finished, their focus was returned to the shelves in the center. The shelf Ethan had earlier emptied was then filled with another shelf's contents. Daniela tagged in this time, assisting Ethan in transferring the books over.
As time trickled by, one shelf was eventually completely reorganized, with its previous books carefully laid out on the floor. Those books would then be moved to the newly emptied shelf to their side. What it was they were trying to accomplish, Ethan still wasn't certain. But, similar to all he'd learned of Daniela so far, there was likely some meaning to it all. Some depth and rationality, hidden just beyond reach.
In lame attempt at broaching the topic, Ethan ran a hand along the smooth wood of the shelf and spoke up, "The, uh – the spines of these books look better with this shelf's wood."
It was a transfer from a redder, darker shelf, to a slightly less red, lighter stain of wooden shelf.
Not a huge change, but the only one Ethan could perceive.
Daniela mimicked Ethan, placing a hand to the side of the shelf from where she stood barely three feet away. Her brows quirked up, and genuine curiosity filled her eyes. "You think so?"
Ethan paused to compare the two shelves once more, still at a loss. With a shrug, he nodded. "Yeah. Was that what you were going for?"
Daniela blinked several times as her head swiveled between the two bookshelves, hands fidgeting at her sides. "Not really, but now that you mention it… could we switch these two shelves?"
This was what his big mouth got him. If he kept talking, they were going to wind up replacing the carpet and repainting the walls.
"As in… the entire shelves?" Ethan tried not to sound too perplexed.
It got the slightest rise out of Daniela just the same, "I did not stutter, Ethan – yes, the entire shelves."
"Okay," Ethan motioned to the shelf's rear, "Let's move this back first to make room for the other bookshelf."
"Worry not, Ethan," Daniela's flare of irritation subsided, giving way to a grin. She took a hold of the shelf, bending her knees in preparation. "I can take the brunt of the weight; I just need you to help keep it balanced." Another wink, causing Ethan to grimace. "I need you to save your energy for the fun we'll be having later."
"Gee," Ethan scoffed, mimicking Daniela in gripping the bookshelf, "I wonder what stuff you got planned? Are we gonna play hide and seek? Or maybe you've got some dice and we can get the whole family together for Dungeons and Dragons?"
With a heave, the shelf – books and all – was lifted. True to her word, Daniela did the lion's share of the work without breaking a sweat. Ethan simply kept the shelf from tipping over to one side. Daniela carried it with ease that was just astounding to witness. The level of effort she was exerting didn't at all line up with just how heavy the furniture was.
Daniela grunted softly as they maneuvered the shelf backwards, giving way to its replacement. "You'll see. I mustn't spoil the surprise just yet."
"Sure," Ethan assisted Daniela as the shelf was eased down onto the floor. "A lady's gotta keep her secrets and all that, right?"
"Right." Daniela grinned and soon took up her position by the empty shelf. They went through the motions to lift and transfer the bookshelf, before repeating the same with the loaded shelf. By the time the deed was done, Ethan found himself wiping sweat from his brow. Meanwhile, Daniela placed her hands on her hips, head turning back and forth between the two shelves as if they'd achieved some great feat.
"This is much better, don't you think?" Daniela turned to Ethan for approval.
Truth be told, he could barely tell the difference. He was too tired to really question it, so he agreed, "I – I guess so, yeah."
Daniela rolled her eyes and promptly grabbed Ethan by the arm. It had Ethan's alarm bells go off for a split second, and the instinct to twist his arm and break her grip had to be consciously suppressed.
This was Dani. Not Cassandra, or some hollow-eyed former servant in the dungeons. She meant well.
Probably.
He allowed himself to be tugged over to the side of the skylight. Lithe hands settled on either of Ethan's shoulders, and Daniela meticulously positioned him in a certain manner only she could make out.
"You said so yourself earlier, Ethan – look at all the pieces as a whole." Daniela motioned forth, "What do you see?"
"A bunch of books," Was Ethan's first sarcastic remark. A sideways glance revealed Daniela's unimpressed features, with her lips pulled into a thin, straight line. Never one to shy away from pushing buttons, Ethan added, "A library?"
Daniela frowned then, and a few irritable flies began to buzz around her head.
"My imminent death?"
He received a light smack on the back of his head, and Daniela chided him, "Ethan!"
Ethan ceased his clowning and turned his attention to their surroundings. He swallowed his bias and his earlier conclusions of Daniela's reorganization as being asinine and pointless. He ran his eyes over the scene with great care, taking in every minute detail. The columns supporting the ceiling, stretching down from the frosty glass skylight above. The shelves, arranged with purpose he could not see. Each leatherbound book and every deliberately angled candelabra.
Ultimately, Ethan failed to determine what exactly it was he was supposed to be looking at, other than what Daniela had pointed out – it was the big picture that mattered. All the tiny details and larger changes meant nothing on their own. Significance only came from the grand picture of the entire library.
"You're trying to nail down a specific look, right? For the whole library?" Ethan tried, his voice thick with uncertainty.
Daniela stepped around him and into his field of vision. She nodded her head with fervor, nearly bouncing up and down in excitement. "Yes, exactly!"
"What's the basis of that?" Once more, Ethan kept his voice gentle, wary as he was of stepping on a landmine without realizing it. "If you fill me in on that, I can help you out better, you know?"
The enthusiasm slipped from Daniela's features. She turned to face the skylight, and her hands joined together in front of her, fingers knotting together restlessly. "I'm not sure. It is just…" Her shoulders raised in a shrug, then sank down. "Intuition, I suppose."
If intuition was all that guided her attempts at redecorating, then no wonder the place was in such disarray. It was all too easy to become hyper-fixated on one section of the library – in this case the skylight – while the rest went neglected. Then if said intuition was as fickle as Daniela's mood, then it was no surprise she was locked in an endless cycle of reorganization. She could never be contented with her setup – all the more given that she herself didn't know what exactly it was she wanted this library to look like.
The basis of Daniela's intuition was difficult to speculate. If this were Bela he was dealing with, he'd make the easy assumption that this had roots in her past life. Alas, if Daniela was to be believed – and Ethan had no reason to doubt her – it was impossible that the past was her basis for rearrangement, since she didn't remember a single thing.
But that didn't make sense. Daniela's intuition had to be born from something – some memory, experience, or trauma. Ethan could look at this library all day and he wouldn't magically come up with some vague sense of intuition to guide his reorganization efforts. If Daniela was as hyper-fixated as she was on the library's order, then there was something to it. Maybe some sort of carryover from her past that even she didn't know she had.
Ethan considered probing some more, and so he looked Daniela's way.
There was something about that moment which stirred something within Ethan. He watched Daniela's slumped shoulders as she looked on at the library around her, painfully alone with nothing but the countless bookshelves to keep her company. It was that same, probably misplaced, sense of protectiveness – that desire to help.
Daniela may just need her own lighthouse to keep her from crashing ashore into her own vicious nature which she fought against. It didn't matter that Daniela lacked the memories that Bela cherished and used to ground herself – this library was everything to her, and it counted for something. If he could help her with it somehow, then it was only right for him to try. Chasing even the smallest shadows away from Daniela's mind would be a win in Ethan's book.
They would do well to steer away from the skylight, for starters. Cleanup the obvious mess around the perimeter of the library. Maybe it would jump-start her intuition and hopefully focus it onto the rest of the library. Ethan could lead them towards that in a moment. But first…
"Hey," Ethan placed a hand on Daniela's back. "How about we put these books in the shelf first. Then we can work on the other stuff."
It was enough to break the miasma which briefly shrouded Daniela. She smiled at him. "Okay."
The work was tedious and quiet as they filed the books away and back into the shelf. Ethan quietly watched Daniela as those expressive eyes of hers bounced around from tier to tier of the different bookshelves. If she wasn't loading books alongside Ethan, she was muttering ever so quietly under her breath while her fingers flexed at her sides. She radiated with indecision over the remainder of the work to be done in the central skylight – rather than so much glance at the piles of books and other messes around them.
Minutes rolled out into hours, now with the various genres being scrutinized by Daniela, while Ethan chipped in from time to time. They were little things, oftentimes innocuous and inconsequential.
"This?" Ethan raised a brow, tugging free the book in question. "Why do you want Dracula moved out of gothic fiction? Tall, spooky castle, vampires – feels like it belongs here."
When he simply questioned Daniela – like in wonder of why they would move an entire shelf – there was mild blowback. An irate curl of the lip here and a brief flutter of flies there. It was different when Ethan made the effort to appear earnest in his curiosity – which he was. When Ethan sounded genuinely interested in seeing things from her point of view, Daniela was much more receptive.
"Isn't it obvious?" Daniela's eyebrows furrowed together – as if so concerned that he wasn't seeing what was right in front of him. "That's non-fiction. It belongs in the 'How To' section, just over there."
Ethan followed the trail of Daniela's finger to another shelf, then turned his eyes back to her. In spite of her deadpan delivery, he could make out a smile threatening to break out on her face.
"Right." Ethan kept his tone just as sarcastically neutral. "Does it go next to The String of Pearls? I'm sure there's a lot to learn from Sweeney Todd. Or is that in the 'Cooking' section?"
It finally pulled the giggle out from Daniela. She gave him a light slap on the arm as she motioned to elsewhere on the shelf. "Move it over to classic horror. I believe that is a more apt home for Mr. Stoker."
Gothic fiction and classic horror seemed like equally good candidates for Dracula. It felt like a moot point to argue, and so Ethan swapped out the book as instructed. "As you wish, my lady. Classic Horror it is." His wording – he felt it was appropriate as they were combing through the classics – earned another little laugh from Daniela. Dracula then found its place not far away from similar classics, along the likes of Frankenstein.
It was curious as well to see the occasional set of thin magazines slipped into Daniela's shelves of horror. Weird Tales, which Ethan's geeky self then noted was where Lovecraft's The Call of Cthulhu first made an appearance, was one such collection of old magazines. Ethan and Daniela took their time transferring the bundle from the beginning of the classic horror shelf to the end – where Daniela said it felt more appropriate, since the novels should come first.
Daniela's Jane Austen collection was well-worn from frequent use. Extra care and deliberation went into its reorganization as well – or rather, an entire shelf was reorganized around it in order to keep the books easily within an arm's reach. There was the occasional small talk here and there as they sorted through the books. It was a nice change to see Daniela placid, in an almost dreamy state while they went about their work. Ethan continued biding his time for the right moment to suggest they divert their attention to the outer shelves.
He was also growing rather preoccupied in his thoughts as the smell of aged paper grew thicker in the air, and stuck to Ethan's hands. They brought memories to the forefront of his mind, of the scent of the perfume in Mia's hair mixing with the old books in the closet – all the wholly un-chaste things they got up to in the college library.
"What are you smiling at?" Daniela's tone bordered on suspicion, and Ethan found her eyes narrowed his way. A few stray bugs flitted above her head, which Ethan was now growing used to witnessing as a litmus test to the intensity of her moods.
Ethan hardly even realized he'd been grinning to himself as he reminisced of his old library escapades.
With Daniela, honesty tended to be the best policy to disperse her apprehension. She was probably worried about him mentally mocking the lengths they were going through to fix up the bookshelves. The memories playing through Ethan's head were worlds away from that.
They were happier memories – even funny, when he thought about them. It was liberating to be able to recall them with less ache in his heart.
"I was thinking about Mia." Ethan added for clarity, in case he hadn't mentioned it before, "My wife."
"What about her?" Daniela's suspicion was replaced by sympathy before he could blink.
Ethan placed the book in hand down on the shelf. He turned to lean a shoulder on the shelf and face Daniela as he gave a wry smile. "The smell of these books. It really takes me back."
Confusion filled Daniela's expressive eyes, and she let out a slight laugh. "Takes you back where?"
This seemed like just the sort of scoop that entertained Daniela, so Ethan obliged, "You wanna know something that Bela doesn't know about me?"
Daniela leaned close, her face breaking into a wide smile. The glee filled her face as excitable flies danced above her head. In a nearly conspiratorial voice, Daniela asked, "What?"
"I lost my virginity in my college library's supply closet."
Daniela clapped a hand over her mouth and leaned back. Her brows nearly met her hairline as a breathless laugh left her lips. After a beat, she exclaimed, "What?! Surely you're joking."
A hardbound novel had bonked Mia's head in the dark, and at least one mop smacked Ethan across the face, separating his lips from Mia's – but it was undoubtedly the most memorable part of senior year regardless. It was insane to remember the lengths that dumb, horny college students would go. They had to get creative, because sneaking each other into their dorms was out of the question; the university's security was to thank for that.
Ethan felt his cheeks growing warm as he shook his head, but he grinned in spite of it. "It was a clumsy, stupid first time, but we couldn't keep our hands off each other." He gestured to the books. "After that big-ass hardbound fell on her head, well," Ethan chuckled to himself. "Maybe it was the mild concussion talking, but Mia said the smell of old books was probably an aphrodisiac."
Daniela tilted her head and pursed her lips. Her eyes avoided his in a show of faux innocence, and she ran a slow, almost sensual hand down the side of the bookshelf. A soft rumbling – almost like a purr – came from her chest when she asked, "Well… is it?"
"No." Ethan narrowed his eyes, "And don't get any bright ideas."
To show that the discussion was over, Ethan returned to the task of restocking the shelf. He ignored Daniela's pout, spurring her on to whine, "But you look like you'd make for a fun time in a closet!"
"Nope." Ethan shook his head.
A beat of silence passed as he pointedly avoided Daniela's batting eyelids, and she added, "I have a supply closet just around the corner, in case you change your mind."
With his cheeks and ears pink, Ethan firmly shook his head. "I won't."
"Aww… saving yourself for Bela, right?" Daniela swayed closer and grinned wider. "I'm sure she will pounce you in no time when I tell her of how you like to get dirty in cramped spaces."
Ethan finally snapped his head back towards Daniela, and could barely keep the laugh out of his voice as he grimaced, "Do not tell Bela about that!"
It was Daniela's turn to ignore him and go on, "You two would make some beautiful blonde babies, you know that?"
"Jesus Christ, Dani," Ethan winced and took a step back for good measure as Daniela drew closer. "Stop!"
Daniela's giggling filled the air at his expense. She only stopped to bite her lip and wink, "I'll even lend you two the keys."
All he could do was glare at her as her own cheeks flushed pink from the fit of giggles that had overcome her.
It took audible knocking on the library door to break through Daniela's laughter. She perked up at the sound of it, and placed a hand on Ethan's arm as she said, "That must be lunch." She squeezed his bicep and requested, "Could you please get that, Mr. Library Defiler?"
Anything to get a quick break from Daniela and her Bela-based ridicule.
"I really set myself up for that, didn't I?" Ethan shook his head again when Daniela only grinned at him wider. "Jesus. Yeah, I'll get it."
That was how Ethan found himself trading in the emptied breakfast trays for fresh trays of lunch. He balanced the empty trays in either hand as precariously as he had earlier. On the other side of the door, Ethan found Olga. The veil continued to obscure her features, but her voice now had a touch of familiarity to it, and Zoria's old bracelet now dangled from her wrist.
As Ethan got both trays into place, he couldn't help but ask, now that the Dimitrescu's eldest had come up in conversation again, "Olga, have you seen Bela around?"
Olga adjusted her grip on the two trays. It was an easier feat, given they were void of food now that she had passed the lunch trays to Ethan. "Lady Bela and Lady Cassandra passed through the kitchens earlier. They proceeded to the dungeons."
Ethan blinked once and suppressed a wince, knowing the mess they would find down below. Under his breath, he murmured a quiet, "Fuck."
"Madam Cassandra asked for a wheelbarrow as well." The unease filtered into Olga's voice with the slightest shake. The rest of her little report to Ethan went unstated, as the implications were clear enough. They both knew what that wheelbarrow would be used for.
They would need a bigger wheelbarrow.
Body bags, too. Lots of body bags. That was, unless they were just going to feed those corpses to the lycans, or whatever other ungodly creatures were roaming the Village.
With how many bodies Ethan dropped – he lost count, really – it was going to be backbreaking labor getting all the corpses out of the lower dungeon. Lucky for the Dimitrescu sisters, they had their inhuman strength and endurance on their side. The same couldn't be said for Zoria, and all the others that had perished by bloodletting, and then again by his hand.
Ethan couldn't help but wonder how Bela was holding up after that whole ordeal. From their argument last night, to her saving Ethan's hide at the last moment from Cassandra's blade. Bela's own mind was probably running a mile a minute as a result of everything that transpired.
Would she be angry with him over the mess he caused with the bloody wine bottles? Would there be retaliation from the Dimitrescu House? Bela probably wouldn't be the one to re-break his ribs over the sorry state of the lower dungeons. But Cassandra and the family matriarch were another story.
Those two would jump at the chance to make him dearly regret his misgivings against the Dimitrescu House. He'd cemented his inevitable clash with the two the moment that shelf of bloody wine smashed into the floor.
In spite of it all, it was Bela's own condition he found himself going back to. How was she dealing with the storeroom's destruction, and knowing the storm Ethan had brought on himself?
"Is Bela okay?" The question slipped out of its own accord, leaving Olga staring at him in silence for a dumbfounded pause. The candor and nonchalance – the familiarity – with which he asked of Bela must have been jarring. He followed up with a half-assed attempt at formality, "I mean… Miss – or Lady Bela – is she okay?"
"She… seemed tense, I suppose." Olga thumbed the sides of the trays as she spoke. "Lady Bela did not utter a word when we saw her."
There was no grand insight to be gained from Olga, who could only watch the events unfold from the sidelines. Ethan shouldn't have really expected anything else.
Olga's posture grew stiff, and her back straightened like a board, taking a step back. Her head bowed deep as she greeted, "Good day, Lady Daniela."
Ethan glanced over his shoulder to find Daniela – likely wondering what the delay was. "Good day," The redhead offered a cheeky smile, and turned her attention to Ethan. "Getting acquainted with the servants, are we?"
"I got seven fingers left, Dani – it's not easy holding stuff." Ethan preferred not to have his line of inquiry, Bela-related as it was, questioned. That would only serve as extra ammunition for Daniela.
Besides, it was good to make it clear Olga had no fault in the short delay. It was for her own safety that the interaction between her and Daniela was kept minimal. There was no need to risk trifling with Daniela's emotions and put Olga's life on the line.
Thankfully, Daniela relieved Ethan of one of the trays and didn't question it further. "Let me give you a hand."
"Thanks," Ethan nodded, while Daniela didn't bother sticking around to see the rest of his exchange with Olga. She brought the tray on over to the same coffee table they'd eaten at earlier. Turning his attention back to the maid, Ethan found her sighing in relief. He gave a smile of his own. "You can go on ahead, Olga. Thanks for the food."
"Of course, Mr. Winters." Olga's veiled head appeared to crane ever so slightly to peer over Ethan's shoulder – over to Daniela placing her tray down. There must have been a sense of wonder – or bewilderment, more likely – running through Olga's mind.
Because how was it that a man like him – an insolent, insignificant man-thing like him – able to go about his business with Daniela like everything was fine and dandy? There were maids who lived and served in the castle for weeks, months, years even, only to wind up dead at the slightest infraction.
Ethan must have made for a strange sight in the bigger picture. The biggest outlier to set foot in this castle for years. He was fed the same food as the rest of the family, walked around with an arm looped around Bela's, and spent time helping Daniela with her library. And after doing everything that should ensure his swift demise – splattering the hallways with blood and wine, piling bodies high in the lower dungeons, ruining stocks of wine – here he was, still being fed the same food and being given the same treatment.
Granted, the extent of the damage to the storeroom probably wasn't public knowledge just yet. That spectacular lapse in judgment was the most likely culprit that would finally undo his rapport with the Dimitrescu sisters. That would be what got him locked up in his cell around the clock and fed rotting bread for nourishment.
With a discomforted gulp, Ethan bid Olga goodbye, and he was on his way to Daniela by the table. Lunch came in a bowl of hearty, savory-smelling stew, still hot to the touch. It was served with a side of bread, as was the staple around here. Topping it off was the usual silver carafe of water.
Daniela took a look at the food on her tray, gave it one sniff, and declared with a pout, "Bela didn't cook this batch either."
The redhead must be truly in tune with her sister's cooking if she could tell it apart from smell alone. With an amused smile, Ethan asked, "You're a big fan of your sister's cooking, huh?"
"Aren't you?" Daniela countered. "The things Bela can do with the simplest ingredients," She paused to close her eyes and hum – the vivid memories of decadent meals undoubtedly filling her mind. "Truly something else."
Ethan only nodded in silent reply and followed Daniela's lead – tearing some bread apart to dip into the meaty stew.
"Tell me, Ethan – is that how things began between you and my sister?" Daniela's eyes lit up with mischief and curiosity alike.
Here we go again.
To buy himself some time, he bit down on his bread, now dripping with the thick stew. As he chewed and the silence drew on, Daniela added, "Is that not how those stories go? The way to a man's heart and into his bed is through his stomach, is it not?"
Ethan would be lying if he said all the quality food Bela served him had not played a part in dropping his defenses. Still, he wasn't keen to tell Daniela that. With a tired shake of the head, Ethan answered with a non-answer to delay the inevitable, "Why are you so interested in me and Bela?"
Daniela rolled her eyes, once more picking that tone that sounded as though the answer was obvious. "Bela may be my big sister, but I have to look after her too, you know? I simply want to know more about my sister's new boyfriend."
"I'm not –" Ethan scoffed, and narrowly avoided choking on the stray bits of food still in his mouth. "Dani, I told you – it's not like that."
"Then why won't you answer my question?" An agitated fly or two buzzed over Daniela's shoulder. "If it is not like that, then what is it?"
When Ethan opened his mouth – prepared to dismiss the notion, Daniela beat him to it, "I saw you two down in the hall before I fed from you the second time! I saw how you looked at each other. I am not blind, Ethan – so if it's not like that, then what is it?"
Ethan's lips remained separated for a second longer. As insistent as Daniela was, he once more found himself not too sure of how to answer that question. Her expressive eyes didn't stray from Ethan, even as she began mixing her stew to disperse the heat.
"How is it that in the ten years since Bela remembered, you are the first person to make such an impact on her?" The irritation left Daniela's face, leaving in its wake some sense of wonder. Her tattooed forehead wrinkled as her brows came together emphatically. "After years and years of blood and murder, and then a decade of being this – this tired, depressed woman – now she is smiling again. She is laughing, and cooking, and calling me a sweetheart – and she even seems to worry for Cassie now, rather than just revel in the carnage with her, or shun her completely." Daniela made a sharp gesture to the door – towards the great hall and the latest confrontation, "Not even just that. Bela stood against Cassie and is taking care of you. So, what is this all about?"
It nearly sent Ethan reeling to think of the mark he could be leaving on Bela within such a short span of time. Despite the length of his stay in the castle – or imprisonment, he had to remind himself – he still found himself questioning the bizarreness of his relationships and circumstances here. Nothing about it was normal, and apparently nothing about the effect he had on Bela was normal either.
They were supposed to be a prisoner and his jailer, simple as. But no, nothing about Ethan and Bela was simple as. They spent an entire fucking night tangled up together in bed for Christ's sake – if that wasn't a breach of normal captive-captor protocol, he didn't know what was.
As much as Ethan didn't want to admit it, they'd smashed through all the barriers and lines they weren't supposed to cross. Past those destroyed walls, they found themselves in a new grey area entirely, and Ethan wasn't opposed to the newfound relationship with Bela either, as undefined and strange as it was.
The thought that he'd managed to bring about some profound change in Bela was enough to make Ethan's heart stutter. It took Ethan a moment to realize the warmth he felt in his chest was happiness – to know she was feeling like a better, livelier person as a result of their interactions. Following that revelation was a sense of purpose – of commitment to pulling that thread and ensuring Bela only felt better and happier over time.
He cared about her.
"Fuck me," Ethan muttered under his breath, quietly enough that even Daniela didn't catch it.
He cared about Bela more than he could explain.
"Again, you said it yourself earlier, Ethan," Daniela cracked a small smile, and paused to blow air at her hot spoon of stew. "What I see of you and Bela – they are fragments. To understand the whole matter, I am trying to view the entire system, rather than the bits and pieces."
"Show me what the system looks like and how it began." Daniela turned up the puppy dog eyes now, pouting at him. "Please?"
Picking up a torn piece of bread, Ethan turned it over in deliberate motions. It was the same type of country bread that Bela had baked for him, that much he could tell. There were small differences and nuances to the flavor profile that were lacking – once more, indicative of Bela being absent from the baking process. Yet just the same, this was the same bread that had started it all, and served as the bridge to one of their first real conversations.
"Fine. You win," Ethan relented. Daniela nearly bounced in her seat with childlike glee. She shifted on the armchair to get a smidge closer, and leaned forward to listen, eyes shining with joy as she watched him.
"After Bela patched me up and I felt a little better, she brought me breakfast. This sourdough, country bread thing of hers – terror pain or whatever it's called." Ethan took a moment to dip the bread in his stew. Daniela's excitement took a pause to frown in confusion at his naming convention. "She was just feeding me to help me recover my strength, but it got us talking."
Talking was one way to label the banter and sharp wit that they dueled with. That was something he enjoyed more than he cared to admit. It reminded him greatly of Mia, before everything went to shit. After the Baker Incident, things were just never the same between them. They clicked just as they did before the mess in Louisiana, but in the years of semi-normalcy before her untimely demise, Mia just wasn't the same.
There was a fire in her that had gone out. A result of all the trauma and suffering the years with the Bakers had brought her. Ethan loved her to pieces, but there was no use denying that Mia had gotten abrasive and more difficult to talk to. It was just an unfortunate fact.
Ethan didn't realize how much he missed talking to someone that challenged him the way Bela did, and the way Mia once did.
"What about?" Daniela brought him back to focus. The question was asked behind the rim of her goblet before she took a sip, still hanging onto his every word.
"She was trying to convince me that she's not a vampire." It got an amused hum from Daniela, prompting Ethan to add, "I still don't really buy it though. I'm pretty sure all three of you are vampires."
"Well, we do bite." Daniela flashed a toothy grin, bobbing her eyebrows up suggestively. Ethan scrunched his nose in displeased response.
"Anyway, we got to talking about Mia." Ethan could still see the vivid remorse on Bela's face the first time he'd mentioned his late wife's death. "Talked a little about Rose, too." He stirred his bowl for a moment, staring but not quite seeing the rich, dark stew swirling in response to his spoon. "Things… kinda changed after that, I guess."
The memory alone of Bela's hot breath on his neck was enough to send a prickle of goosebumps along his skin. The quietest ache roused within Ethan's chest at the thought of her fingers in his hair; the utter care with which Bela held him, even if she had only done so out of the need to get him to relax for the feeding.
Those blood-sucking sessions were a slippery slope, and Ethan was acutely aware of how they'd been picking up in intensity.
Another tingle ran down Ethan's back as it all came back to him – the smooth skin of Bela's arms as his fingertips wandered, the tight hold they had on each other as though their lives depended on it, the borderline lewd noises Bela made, and how he enjoyed those sounds a little too much.
Ethan shook his head softly to banish the train of thought before it went even further off the rails.
It went against every rational bone in his body, but he missed her. Crazy, irrational, batshit insane as it was – but he missed her.
"Changed how?" Daniela asked, preparing another spoonful of stew as she did so.
For now, Ethan felt it was prudent to omit the bits of information about Rose that Bela had slipped him. Developments like that were better off kept as he and Bela's secret.
"She got me a mattress to sleep on, for one." It was a damn comfy one at that.
"Oh my," Daniela bit her lip. "I hope you took the hint – surely there is room for the both of you on that bed."
It was tried and tested that there was room for the both of them. Not that Ethan would let Daniela know that.
"No, Dani – there were no hints that came with the bed." Ethan avoided Daniela's gaze. He kept his eyes affixed to his stew on the off-chance Daniela could peer into his mind and see the images of him and Bela snuggling under the sheets.
He got a piece of bread flicked at his forehead for his evasion. The bread bounced off and landed on his tray as Daniela turned her dubious voice to him. "I don't believe you for one second, but do go on."
"Believe what you wanna believe," Ethan huffed. "But yeah, it was just easier to talk to her moving forward. Our little teambuilding session with the door helped, too."
Again, Ethan made it a point to leave out the more volatile details – such as the impossibly long half-minute he spent contemplating whether or not to kill Bela and begin a mad dash across the castle to find Rose.
Looking back, Ethan could nearly scold himself for even considering it – for posing that danger to Bela to begin with. Of course, Ethan knew it all made sense – rationally. Captor and captive, imprisonment against his will, and all of that stuff.
But just the same, Ethan was deeply aware of how wholly irrational he was becoming, and how attached he was getting to Bela. Just the thought of hurting her made his stomach churn.
"Well done, by the way," Daniela gave an approving nod. "I can hardly tell that you two broke that door frame during your little tussle."
The little tussle was much more pulse-pounding and violent in hindsight, given how Bela nearly knocked his head off his shoulders, but sure – call it a little tussle.
Ethan took his time to consume a few spoons worth of stew while Daniela patiently waited. "We kinda fell into a routine not long after that. She'd come by with coffee after breakfast."
What a sight for sore eyes Bela was whenever she came into view. Her hair shined golden under the lamplight, and there was nothing warmer than that twinkle in her smile, coffee cup in each hand.
Ethan barely noticed his own smile creeping into place as he spoke, "We'd have lunch together on most days." Such a memorable first lunch that was they shared – gourmet burgers to rival any five-star joint back home. All the more memorable were the beginnings of Bela's walls coming down for him. Her memories from her life long, long ago were shared for the first time, and Ethan only continued to get more glimpses with each day that passed.
"Then we'd stretch our legs a little and let the food digest. Took short walks around the castle." It was better that Ethan left out the part where Bela kept her arm looped around his as they walked – a precaution, as Bela would always say.
"Aww," Daniela clasped her hands together, grinning widely as she did. "Do you hold hands while walking?" Her eyes then narrowed slightly as she tried to confirm, "You've at least held Bela's hands by now, right?"
The denial was on the tip of Ethan's tongue. "We –"
"I saw you hold her hands when I last fed on you!"
Damn.
Still, it wasn't technically a lie when Ethan said, "We don't hold hands while walking, Dani."
"Hmph. Talk about a dense man-thing." Daniela grumbled and crossed her arms for a moment. "You should. With how my sister looks at you, I am certain that would make her swoon for you."
Ethan wasn't even going to bother countering that. He would only be met with more resistance if he vehemently denied that he was trying to get Bela to fall for him. As complex and grey as his relationship with Bela was – that wasn't exactly the goal he was going for, and he knew that much to be certain.
"Anyway," Ethan waved a hand. "We'd usually hang out again after dinner."
The moment the words left his mouth, Daniela had a hand raised to chime in. "And do you know, Ethan, just how eager Bela is to excuse herself from the dinner table?"
Ethan ignored the flutter in his stomach. That was probably the stew settling.
Definitely the stew.
"Always in a hurry to say she has some specimen she is studying – or a book she is taking notes from." A sly look crossed Daniela's face, and Ethan knew what was coming. "It appears you are the specimen she was…" Her brows danced up and down with insinuation. "Studying."
When Ethan ignored her implications, Daniela added, far more bluntly, "Has she asked you to strip down to study you better? Maybe in bed?"
No stripping was needed when Bela stuck a hand under his shirt to help share her body warmth while making him the little spoon in bed.
"No," He grunted, hoping in vain that if he ignored the heat in his cheeks, they would go unnoticed. "How many times do I have to tell you that it's not like that?"
Daniela raised her hands up in a gesture of surrender, even as her eyes gave a punctuated roll. "Fine, fine… and after you two," Her fingers formed air quotes, "Hang out. What next? Does Bela stay the night? Does she take you to her cozy corner of the dungeon?"
"Neither," Ethan kept the emphasis strong in his voice. "She goes on her way, and I go to bed."
"Really?" Daniela's eyebrows all but met her hairline in disbelief. "Does she actually still keep you locked in that cage? There is hardly room in there for both of you. I understand you get frisky in tight spaces –"
"Hey!" Ethan interjected, only to be ignored. Sharing that little part of his college life was a big mistake.
"But that small jail can't be comfortable for the both of you." Her expression went to one of disapproval as she clicked her tongue – a strange prospect, considering the oft understated circumstances of Ethan's lodgings.
Ethan's lunch was given some much needed attention for a moment. Once he was done swallowing, he wiped his mouth and spoke up, "I dunno if you've forgotten – but comfort isn't really top priority for a prisoner. I am kind of being held as a captive here. You know that, right?"
Daniela scoffed, sending a few flies jittering overhead for a second. "Of course, I know that, Ethan – but just because you are stuck with us, doesn't mean your life has to be miserable."
There wasn't a trace of sarcasm or irony on Daniela's features. At the rate Ethan was going with the Dimitrescu family, it seemed only Cassandra and Lady Dimitrescu herself wished him the bare minimum comfort in his imprisonment.
If it was left to Cassandra, he'd still be in manacles, wearing the same soiled clothes, and eating rotten leftovers. He would undoubtedly be missing more than just a few digits. Most likely was that entire limbs would be chopped off and roasted over a fire. His flesh would be stripped from his body – probably while awake – and there wouldn't be much he could do to stop it. Consciousness and lucidity would be a thing of the past as he lived from blackout to blackout between bloodlettings.
And now it was not only Bela, but apparently Daniela as well who wished for him to have better accommodations since he moved in to the castle.
"You really mean that?" Ethan couldn't help but ask.
With a nonchalant shrug, Daniela pushed it back to him, "Why not? I see you more as a guest than anything else – a friend, even." There was a pause before a small, shy smile formed on Daniela's features. She pushed the question out with some hesitancy, "We are friends, right?"
Ethan felt inexplicably pinned in place for a long moment. There was an almost childlike innocence to the question, and the way her big eyes bore into his in search of confirmation. Intermingling with it was her lingering fear of rejection – of losing someone she had come to see as a friend.
The prospect of friendship was odd beyond words when one tried to stamp the label on them. Daniela was, after all, part of the family that held his daughter captive and kept him prisoner. Daniela herself had nearly jammed a meat hook into his hand to hoist him up to the ceiling above when he first met the whole family.
And what happened to friendship when Miranda decided he was no longer needed? Word would reach Lady Dimitrescu swiftly, and there would be no more reason to keep him alive.
What about every other complexity to factor in – all the tiptoeing he had to do to ensure he didn't set off any of Daniela's triggers? What room was there for friendship when death lingered around the corner if he dropped a book?
Had that been how Maria felt at some point? A certain weight – not an unpleasant burden, but rather the heft of responsibility – to be called Daniela's friend? It was a tall task that loomed ahead. Supporting Daniela and trying to temper her triggers, all while avoiding her potentially murderous mood swings – it was much to ask from any one person – especially when said person was directly and indirectly linked to so much murder and terror.
Yet who else would try and do so for Daniela?
She watched and waited for an answer, eyes desperately running over his face in search of any positive signs. The hope within her appeared to diminish with each moment of silence that passed, giving way to fear and sadness.
There was really only one answer for her, after everything he'd learned of Daniela. Stupid as it sounded, it was the right thing to do.
"Yeah," Ethan smiled. "We're friends."
It earned a soft, relieved giggle from Daniela. "Mother may just faint. Her eldest is dating a bad boy like you, and her youngest is his friend."
"We're not –"
Daniela entered a full on fit of giggles in the face of Ethan's exasperation. Much like with Bela, it was clear that getting riled up only encouraged more teasing. He turned his attention back to his lunch tray while Daniela took her time reeling the laughter in.
When she settled down, she smiled more earnestly this time, and reached over to give Ethan's arm a squeeze. "Dating or not, I appreciate what you've done for Bela. I have not seen her so full of life in years. Whatever it is you're doing, please keep doing it."
Ethan could only nod, muttering a slight, "Sure," under his breath.
He had no intent of doing otherwise. By now, Ethan was well aware that he was in deep. Once he got the chance to patch things up with Bela, there was no way to go but further down the rabbit hole.
It was a beautiful thing to hear those snippets of her past, something she clearly held so near and dear to her heart. To be trusted with those glimpses into her past life stirred something within Ethan – a sense of duty to see this through and walk with Bela on the path to embracing her humanity.
That past was shrouded by so much bloodshed and death – apparently far more than he initially imagined – yet it persisted just the same. Bela held onto it, difficult as it was, and as sullied and tarnished as it had become over the decades. Cut up, stomped into the dirt, and bled dry – that scrap of humanity Bela clung onto had been entrusted to him, of all people.
Ethan never really expected to be anyone's lighthouse, especially not after Mia. But that light in Bela was worth fostering and growing, and he would be damned if he backed out on her now.
With a solemn nod to nobody in particular, Ethan resolved that he would see this through to the end – whatever and wherever that may be.
These were not monsters that had imprisoned him in their castle.
They were people. Lost, confused, and scarred deeply – but people just the same. It would only be the right thing to do – the human thing to do to help them in what little way he could.
To any outsider looking in, it probably looked crazy. Maybe it was crazy. Doing the human thing for a bunch of bug-women who imprisoned him and drank his blood simply didn't make sense off the bat. Ethan's BSAA-appointed therapist would give him a firm smack with his hardy patient file to snap him out of that madness. Hell, Ethan's pre-Baker self would give him a good slapping as well for even considering all of this.
Most people would torch this castle and slaughter the family within. Ethan wouldn't even deny that the family would deserve it for all the atrocities they committed.
But things just weren't black and white, no matter how the situation and people involved may seem. If humanity could bloom under the shadows of death in this castle, then who was he to snuff it out or pass judgment?
It was like in Louisiana, when Jack pleaded with him to save his family and free them from their mold-induced murderous rage.
Except this time, Ethan could actually do something about it beyond granting release in the form of a bullet. He couldn't help the Bakers, but maybe – just maybe – he could help Bela and Daniela.
Maybe even Cassandra, if they didn't kill each other first.
The moment let a brief silence fall between them, just long enough to allow both of them to finish up with their meals. Ethan was taking a big sip from his goblet of water when Daniela eventually spoke up once more.
"You got mother quite angry earlier, even before you opened your mouth with those little remarks of yours." Daniela stated it plainly and factually – even biting down a smile, as though amused by the memory of it. With a curious tilt of her head, she asked, "What mess did you make down in the dungeons anyway?" Her expressive eyes flicked once towards his jeans – now clean and blood-free. "Did you… break something? A few bottles?"
The uneasy rumble in his gut was definitely not from the stew this time.
Ethan thumbed at the condensation of his goblet for a moment. Then, quite frankly, he admitted, "I might have fucked up a bit down there."
Concern etched onto Daniela's face, and her lips formed a straight line. "How so?"
A nervous tremble set into Ethan's hand. He hardly noticed the subconscious, restless tap of his trigger finger against the goblet of water.
Those raspy groans filled his ears – only to be blotted out by the deafening ringing as his gun spat lead. His pistol's muzzle flash seared into his vision – powerfully enough to leave spots as he tugged on the trigger with a vengeance, and dark, sticky blood splattered every inch of his face.
Ethan consciously set his water down and took a deep breath. He placed his hands on his knees – which similarly started to bob up and down with anxious energy.
"I had to fight off a bunch of the Moroaice in the lower dungeon. After that, I…" The human-shaped bundles of bloodstained linen crept into Ethan's mind. But Daniela didn't need that reminder right now. "I made it to the storeroom, and I just…"
The sentence trailed off into the void, and all Ethan could see were the rows upon rows of shelves. They were filled to the brim with human lives, neatly bottled up and labeled accordingly with a sick sense of professionalism.
His voice grew soft. "I lost it."
"Ethan," Daniela lowered her head to meet his downcast gaze. "What did you do?"
Like ripping a band-aid off, Ethan got it all out, "I tossed some bottles around." Even now, the shattering of glass seemed deafening to Ethan. "Wine, blood – didn't matter. I just broke bottles and then knocked a shelf over and smashed the entire fucking thing."
The heavy silence hung in the air for a moment longer, until Ethan finally looked Daniela's way. Her big eyes were opened wider still, and her dark brows furrowed in a mix of concern and horror alike.
"Yeah, that wasn't my best judgment call, I'll admit that."
"Ethan," Daniela let his name out through clenched teeth. The familiar drone of bugs began to fill the air. "Do you have any idea what you did?"
"Look, I just got my blood drank and my arm nearly fucking chewed off. Cassandra was talking shit and implicating Rose." Ethan defended himself, for what little it was worth. "I wasn't thinking straight, and seeing all those bottles –"
Daniela didn't let him finish. Her voice came in hot, yet still highlighted by that air of worry. "For such a seemingly smart man, you can be an idiot, Ethan."
Ethan gave a quiet sigh and nodded in agreement.
"Do you know what mother is going to do to you if she finds out?" When Ethan kept his gaze fixed away from Daniela, she grabbed his hands – tightly. "Actually, no – it's not a question of if. It is a question of when she finds out."
Daniela chewed on her bottom lip. She took a breath before admitting, "I understand why you did that – I do." Her throat bobbed with a gulp. "I despise that storeroom and everything it stands for. I have not been in that room for…" She trailed off for a moment, only to shrug and mutter, "Forty years? Fifty? I lost count."
Ethan hardly had time to hold onto that train of thought – the idea that Daniela herself hated their collection of blood and wine. She was quick to continue as her grip on Ethan's hands steadily tightened, "But ruining the family stockpile is not going to accomplish anything. All you've done is given mother a reason to make your life hell and force her to replenish the stock."
The hold Daniela had on Ethan's hands grew firmer, painfully so – to the point she was at risk of dislocating his fingers if she squeezed any harder. "She will make you pay for every bottle of blood with your own, Ethan."
"Dani, you're hurting me," Ethan grunted out as a result of her tight, trembling hands clamped over his.
Immediately, Daniela recoiled, tucking her hands in towards her chest. Her eyes darted down to her own hands – then towards Ethan as he rubbed his hands against one another. "Sorry," She breathed out. "I'm sorry."
Before he could so much as try to reassure Daniela, the redhead was on her feet, and her swarm of flies flittered around in an anxious storm. She paced along the stretch of carpeting, wringing her hands together as she walked.
With how much Daniela seemed to care about him, Ethan felt it best not to worry her further.
"Whatever it is your mom has in store for me, I'm sure I'll get through it." Ethan found himself trying to calm Daniela down more than anything else – since despite the anxiety creeping up, he felt oddly… at peace with the potential consequences, as oxymoronic as it may sound.
Daniela turned to face Ethan, bugs still wildly buzzing about. With a frustrated grimace, she enunciated, "My mother is not a forgiving woman, Ethan."
Ethan wasn't sure if it was foolhardiness, bravery, or a little too much self-assuredness. It just didn't seem like a legitimate possibility to be held down and tortured and bled for wine forever. He'd gotten out of tight spots before through the skin of his teeth. He could do it again.
The countless swarms of mold monsters with their razor-sharp claws. Jack trying to run him over with a burning car, and trying to cut him in half with fucking chainsaw scissors. Marguerite trying to devour him whole with her swarms of insects. Lucas attempting to burn him alive in his fun house – one way or another, he'd survived all of that.
And again, with his mad chase throughout the village with lycans literally nipping at his heels and a giant fucker swinging a hammer around. Then that homeless-looking Magneto asshole trying to shred him to bits with his industrial death trap. And of course, who could forget his most recent run-in with Cassandra's game, which brought him back to the present issue.
So many things should have done him in by now, but he'd gotten up again each time. It didn't matter how many fingers he'd lose, or how many scars would come to decorate his body. Every time Ethan was knocked down, he would get back up.
There was still so much he had to do before he could die in peace. Failure wasn't in his dictionary. Giving up wasn't an option.
Or, maybe he really was just an idiot, as Daniela put it.
Ethan stood up from the sofa and approached the still anxiously pacing Daniela. He considered his options as Daniela and her anxious swarm of bugs had yet to face him.
There was nothing to do but face the consequences of his actions head on, when it came down to it. It was beginning to dawn on Ethan that, even if he could undo it all – even if it was probably the smarter, more reasonable path – he wouldn't.
He wouldn't enter that storeroom like an obedient dog with his tail tugged between his legs, pick a bottle out, and leave. He wouldn't keep his head down and avoid acknowledging the unfathomable amount of death the Dimitrescu House was responsible for.
There was just no reality in which that happened.
Yes, Ethan's hot-headedness had spurred him on – but that was just part of it. His brief rampage was his humanity screaming out at the injustice of it all. It was the only way at the time he could dig his heels into the ground, stand firm, and say enough was enough.
If it took his blood to replace those bottles, then so be it. Better that he bled than some innocent maid or unfortunate traveler. His defiance could at least focus the Dimitrescu House's wrath on him, someone who could take the punishment, get knocked down a hundred goddamn times, and get up a hundred and one times.
Daniela's frantic pacing finally came to a stop when Ethan interrupted her path. With hands raised in a placating gesture, he kept his voice soft. "I'll figure it out, okay? Even if I'm doomed to be blood-cattle forever, I'm sure I'll figure something out."
When Daniela appeared plainly doubtful of his claim, he added, "Strange as it sounds, I've been in some pretty rough spots. No need to worry about me so much, okay?"
Not to mention Chris was out there somewhere and was working on an eventual jailbreak. If he got word that Ethan's situation was going from bad to worse, Chris would – probably – intervene.
Daniela's hands hovered in the air for a second – as if wishing to reach for Ethan but restraining herself. Her endlessly nervous eyes ran all over Ethan's face as the buzzing of bugs continued to fill the air. Slowly, she nodded, as if more to convince herself than anything else. "Bela might think of something. She's the smart one – she would find some way to keep you safe. And I – I'll help, if I can."
Once more, Ethan had to give the slightest doubt. His mind already had an entire script memorized and summarily forgotten for Bela – of how they were on opposite sides, and all that. The same should have applied to Daniela, yet after everything said and done – it just didn't add up. He could almost believe her without a moment's hesitation.
"You'd really do that? You'd help me – even if it's against what your mom wants?"
"We're friends, right?" The answer came simply for Daniela. That shy smile made a return. "Friends have to look out for each other. I can't promise that I'll," A nervous, frustrated scoff, "Fight anyone for you, or anything like that – but I'll help in what little way I can. Who says you can't slip out while I'm in the bathroom?"
Ethan could only stare at Daniela in surprise as she went on.
She waved a hand in gesture to the library around them, and the swarm of flies mimicked the motion. "After all, you've been helping me all morning."
It was the makings of a plan. Or at least, Ethan could be assured he wasn't in this alone when things got dire. There realistically wasn't anything Ethan could do right now to assure his survival anyway. That was, other than what he was doing at that very moment – which was fostering his connection with Daniela. All he could do was sit tight, see if there was any magic Bela could work to mitigate the mess he made, let Daniela look the other way while he slipped out if shit hit the fan, and cross – or burn – any other relevant bridges when he got there.
As if he didn't owe Bela enough after she saved his bacon from Cassandra.
An apology gift, his blood in a silver chalice, and a little groveling were probably in order to make it up to Bela.
"Thank you, Dani." Ethan offered a smile. "I really appreciate it. How about we," He raised a hand towards the shelves, "Y'know – let's get back to work. That helps calm you down, right? Maybe we can both calm down a little by working on the books."
The longer Ethan spoke, the less Daniela's anxious colony of bugs flitted overhead in their mad frenzy. She watched him with those big, expressive eyes of his, hanging onto his every word, and taking in deep breaths. By the time she nodded at him, only a few insects remained buzzing in the air. "Good idea. There are some books by the skylight that could be rearranged."
Ethan took his chance to intervene. "Dani, you said there's a specific look that you're trying to go for, right? That intuition of yours?"
It seemed to hit a positive chord with her that he'd remembered. Daniela smiled at him as the last of the flies overhead finally returned to her body. With a nod, she hummed out, "Mhm."
"Now, this is just me guessing, right? But I feel like that image you've got – that intuition – you don't actually want books lying on the floor, right?" Ethan pointedly glanced at one discarded book not far away. "How about we start with those instead. We don't wanna step on anything and ruin them, right? I'm sure these books mean the world to you."
Daniela's hands fidgeted at her sides for a long moment. She took another deep breath before nodding along, "Right."
"Maybe we can go around for a bit and pick those books up." Ethan gestured a hand towards the skylight. He spoke slowly and watched for her every reaction. "Let's take them to the skylight to get a better look at them. Then we can sort them out from there. How does that sound?"
There was some tension set into Daniela's form – like she was resisting the urge to disagree and return to the obsessive rearrangement of the central bookshelves, leaving the rest of the library in rampant disarray.
After a longer stretch of silence, the redhead let out a heavy sigh, and the stiffness seeped free from her shoulders. There was an uncertain frown on her features when she agreed. "Okay."
Ethan felt oddly proud watching Daniela leave the central bookshelves be. It was increasingly clear that, without outside intervention, Daniela was stuck in a bit of a loop. Everything she obsessed over in the library – her almost ritualistic candle-lighting, the rearrangement of the central shelves, the outer bookshelves being ignored – they were all connected, with Daniela at the center. This was a step towards breaking free from that mold.
The pair found themselves splitting the library in two. They each took one side and trawled along the perimeter, picking books up from the floor as they went. By the time Ethan and Daniela would finish, they would meet again in the middle, having gathered more than an armful of books each.
Ethan took his time collecting the discarded books, difficulty with his grip and all. Their condition – aside from lying around on the floor – was impeccable. Not a scuffed cover in sight. Most of them were relatively recent publications, compared to the more aged tomes.
The Perks of Being a Wallflower and Fight Club particularly caught Ethan's attention – and it was only by their movie adaptations that he had an idea they were comparatively modern. Ethan had an inkling that was part of the reason these books didn't find a home among the generous amount of shelving. Perhaps it was the books closer to Daniela's first life that were easier for her to sort out and meticulously categorize. Maybe she read those books in particular over and over in comparison to the new ones.
As Ethan meandered through his side of the library, he eventually spotted the corner of one novel sticking out from underneath a low shelf. The surface was cluttered with more books, so it was no surprise that one had fallen off and nearly been hidden from sight completely. Ethan set his pile of books down as neatly as he could, then got down into a crouch.
Reaching underneath the shelf, Ethan's fingers nudged into something cold and metallic. With a curious frown, Ethan pulled the book and the mystery object out in one go.
The book was Stephen King's Misery, which Ethan felt was a little on the nose for his current situation.
The object was a necklace. The thin chain of tarnished silver led to a broken clasp on one side. On the other was the profile of a dove, cast in silver and stained with dried blood.
The blood wasn't faded or black – just dried. Only a few days tops. Maybe a day. After Louisiana and a handful of tracking lessons from the BSAA, Ethan was more than familiar with the finer points of blood's aging.
All it informed Ethan was that this was not good.
Ethan was pocketing it before he could think twice, even as it produced a slight tinkling. A tentative glance of his surroundings revealed Daniela was still sweeping her side of the library. She hadn't seen his discovery. Ethan felt that was a good thing for the time being.
This necklace could easily belong to Daniela herself, or any of the maids who entered Daniela's domain for the final time. With how volatile Daniela was, it felt like the right move to err on the side of caution.
If it belonged to Daniela, then his recovery of the necklace may be met with joy, relief, and gratitude. Just as easy was the likelihood that she may find his possession of the necklace to be an invasion of privacy. There was a method to the madness of organization in this library. God save anyone who moved a book in here without her clearance.
The more he considered it though, the less likely it seemed to be Daniela's. He didn't get even a single drop of blood from stabbing and shooting Cassandra, so the blood couldn't belong to Daniela. Plus, with how she operated, she would know immediately if she were missing something belonging to her. The library would be turned upside down to find it.
If it belonged to Maria or any of the former maids, there was a similar risk of escalation. Maybe even despair if the mood hit Daniela just right. There was honestly no telling for certain. The safest bet was to hold onto the necklace until the opportunity came to broach the topic. Taking into account the dried blood on the tarnished silver dove – well, it was a potentially heavy talk (and the usual risk of bodily harm) that may await him when the time came up.
Ethan was back on his feet and acting casual in no time. Misery was added to the pile in his arms, and he continued his sweep of the library. Several more books found their way to his bundle by the time he drew near to the other side. It was at this point Ethan found himself by the desk and its abundance of crumpled papers. Ethan had clocked the desk when he first entered the library, but was only now given the chance to see it up close.
It was as he'd first seen it, cluttered with paper – trash or otherwise. The loaded typewriter was halfway through its current page, just waiting for the user to resume their sentence. From where Ethan stood, he could make out blocks of text interspersed by dialogue, given the spacing and quotation marks he could glimpse. Perhaps Daniela fancied herself a writer in her spare time? It was something he could carefully broach with her later in the day.
Definitely a safer topic than asking who owned the broken and bloodstained necklace, at least.
Aside from everything Ethan had noticed prior, there was something that had gone unseen up until that very moment. Tucked underneath the desk was an object, tall, wide, and thin in shape, concealed by an expansive sheet of fabric.
Curiosity got the better of Ethan.
Setting the books down on the table, Ethan peeked under the desk and tugged on the corner of the fabric.
It revealed the portrait of an unfamiliar woman, masterfully painted on canvas. She craned her head in a decidedly fond manner, smiling brightly as she did so. Her dark hair was tied up into a bun – perhaps to avoid getting in the way of her day-to-day activities. Since the painting was from the top of her shoulders and up, there was little to tell from her clothing, other than it was of a dark cloth.
There was beauty in her features, and how simply and uncomplicatedly she presented herself. Her face was uncaked in makeup – and it almost reminded him of when Bela came to him in the dead of night. There was a warm air to the woman in the portrait – of acceptance and friendliness that awaited anyone who came to know her. Maybe it was the shine in her smile, or the kindness in her eyes.
Around her neck was a tarnished necklace. The profile of the silver dove was free of dried blood.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
Ethan's wrist lit up with tingling pain as Daniela's smaller hand seized him. His joint threatened to pop right out of the socket under Daniela's crushing grip. Her eyes lit up with fire, and the enraged buzzing of flies filled the fluttering space around them.
Her lips split into a snarl. "What are you doing?!"
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Do be sure to hit those fave and follow buttons and send me a review to let me know how you liked this chapter. I love hearing from you guys, as I'm sure you've noticed by now.
I hope the meatiness of this chapter makes up for the delay. Stuff got kinda hectic on my end, so finding time to write got a little difficult. But anyway, I hope you fellas enjoyed the continuation of this little arc we have with Dani.
A good handful of little revelations here as Dani starts spilling the tea on her sisters. That'll only continue to unravel as we go on, and when Ethan gets the chance to reunite with Bela. Maybe even with Cassandra if they don't kill each other.
Anyway, I think that's it from me for now. The holiday season is fast approaching, and things are getting pretty busy. I'm not writing at the pace I'd like, but it's what I can manage. Next chapter should go up in 1-2 weeks. Again, I'll send out my usual barrage of replies around the time of my posting, or to let you know if I'm running late. I'll catch you fellas around at the next one. Thanks so much for the support and patience. Stay safe out there.
