"Am I gonna see your other paintings?" Ethan pulled himself up to his feet, falling in step behind Daniela.

Walking around the central bookshelves, Daniela led the way to the door, humming in affirmation as she did so. "A lot of them."

The double doors swung open, revealing a sizeable room. The setting sun cast long, orange shadows through the bars of one window to the right. As Daniela crossed the room with a contented pep in her step, Ethan got an eyeful of the statue to their side. While Daniela didn't pay it a second glance, Ethan had to take a moment to admire the craftsmanship. Carved in marble were a group of figures brandishing various blades, pinning a woman down. Their weapons poised to strike, one figure's lantern lit up their victim's features – her face an expression of joy in what was an oddly blissful demise.

His curious hand hovered over the smooth surface, hesitating, and ultimately retracting – hedging on avoiding getting into trouble for placing his filthy man-hands on the sculpture.

Naturally, this castle would have creepy statues of people trying to murder each other. After all the day's events, Ethan felt he barely had the braincells left to try and parse the sculpture's meaning. He instead surveyed the rest of the room's notables. Aside from the door Daniela was approaching, there was another to one side, probably leading to the second-floor hallway. Then there was also the fanciest space heater Ethan had ever seen, fashioned from porcelain and gold.

Ethan paused to point at the heater. "I'm pretty sure that this costs more than my first car." He watched as Daniela came to a stop by the door, turning back to face him. He gestured to the heater's elaborate design. "What's with all that? Does the gold make it work better or something?"

His sarcasm was ignored, in favor of Daniela's quick rebuttal, "Well, I don't know – but it matches our beautiful eyes, don't you think?" She angled her head, batting her lashes as she did.

"What about the toilet back there?" Ethan jabbed a thumb in the library's direction, "The gold trim of that meant to match your eyes too?"

"What about a smack on your head instead for asking too many questions?" Daniela held an equally sarcastic smile as she continued to flutter her eyelashes at him.

Ethan raised his hands in surrender, earning a soft giggle from his redheaded companion. Daniela pushed her way past the ornate door at the end. Ethan got an eyeful of the extravagant door – the angelic figures carved in gold were staring right at him as he crossed the threshold into the atelier.

Green wallpaper patterned the walls, interspersed with the occasional wooden column. Said wallpaper was, however, barely visible due to the sheer number of paintings populating the space. Art of different sizes filled the walls, from the top of wooden molding connecting to the ceiling, all the way to the wooden panels towards the bottom of the wall. Several haphazardly stacked piles of books were tucked into different corners, along with some paintings concealed by sheets of fabric. To the left of the entryway was a small staircase leading up to what appeared to be a viewing deck.

The faint sound of mechanical parts could be heard churning and clinking away behind one wall – possibly having a hand in powering the heater in the previous room, and any others in the castle

Although what easily grabbed Ethan's attention the most was the massive painting that took up the entire right side of the wall, flanked by candelabras. The full body painting of Lady Dimitrescu was to scale, easily thrice Ethan's height. She wore a white dress, patterned in flowers. A similar hat sat atop her head, with several flowers adorning it. She held in her hand a goblet of wine or blood – or both.

"That's my finest work over there," Daniela remarked with just a hint of smugness in her voice. She admired the painting, eyes scanning the canvas for the slightest imperfections and finding none.

Ethan bit down on his tongue for a moment to keep his crass awe of holy shit to himself this time. He shook his head with a sense of wonder. "Damn. That's amazing, Dani."

And as huge as the big bitch herself.

All that was missing were the giant fuck-off claws that would have sliced him in half had he been in range earlier today. The giant lady's mean streak aside, Ethan had to admit she was a beautiful, regal woman through and through – especially when she wasn't sucking blood from his wrist, or enjoying the sight of him wriggling on the floor with sickles dug into his calves.

Maybe next, Daniela could paint her mother as Ethan had seen her this morning – with a messy bun, wearing a well-used bathrobe, and oversized bunny slippers. Such contrast that had to this current painting, and the other times Ethan had come face to face with Lady Dimitrescu.

"How long did that take you?"

Daniela turned back to Ethan as she set his portrait down on a vacant easel. Her eyes settled on him for several seconds before she remarked, "I don't know. I lose track of time when I paint. Bela usually has to remind me to eat."

With how obsessive Daniela could be, that wasn't a surprise. With a wry smile, Ethan asked, "Your mom didn't have to model for you for days in a row, did she?"

Giggling, Daniela shook her head. "Her dress was on a mannequin for the most part. I only asked mother to stand in for me when it was time to paint her face. That was…" She turned her head towards the portrait, and Ethan observed her fingers tapping against her side – counting.

"Twenty years ago, I think."

It lined up with what Bela had once told him – that she and her sisters had been around for over half a century.

"Makes sense. Vampires like you don't age, right?" Ethan could practically sense Daniela's eyeroll in response to his quip.

She came to a stop by his side, looking up at the painting as she muttered back with a chuckle, "Right."

When Daniela was honing her talent as a masterful painter, he was cramming his way through school – doing his best to make up for his years of slacking in the hopes it would be good enough for him to enter the university of his choice.

It was easy to forget that even Daniela, youngest of the three, was almost twice his age. But given their timeless nature, it felt like age was a meaningless construct.

Ethan nodded to himself as he stepped further into the room, still filled with a sense of awe, both from Lady Dimitrescu's larger than life portrait, and the sheer amount of art around him. He kept his head on a swivel, looking from painting to painting as he took the sight of it all in. Daniela meanwhile simply set the sketchpad down on a round table next to her easel.

With the sun having mostly taken its leave for the day, there was little to keep the room illuminated. The few lanterns and candelabras just barely succeeded in keeping the art collection passably viewable. No doubt though, the room would be better admired earlier in the day.

Though it now did have Ethan wondering –

"You're not checking out the lights," He stated his observation aloud, looking Daniela's way – practically waiting for her to start her obsessive ritual.

Daniela turned back to him, a small furrow in her brow. She gestured vaguely to the closest batch of candles on their golden mounts, "They are all lit."

Ethan blinked at her once then shook his head, raising his brows for a beat. He dismissed the topic with a quick, "Okay."

It was only the lighting in the library that she fussed over with such obsession. It seemed to check out, considering it sounded as though she only had her vague intuitions over the library's appearance. It didn't apply to other rooms.

That information was tucked away into one corner or another in Ethan's mind, saved for later dwelling. For now, he contented himself with taking slow paces around the atelier, running his eyes from painting to painting. He took them all in – each broad stroke of the brush and every exquisite detail. They were all masterfully painted, without exception.

Daniela enjoyed painting her family members, Ethan soon noted. Aside from Lady Dimitrescu's giant portrait, there were a couple other, smaller ones scattered around the walls. Bela and Cassandra had their fair share as well. Some were simple headshots, while others were a little more complex.

Ethan was the farthest from a history or art buff, but there was an unmistakable similarity to classical art in at least two paintings of Bela and Cassandra. He couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly, but he got the feeling they were inspired by some Italian or French painter. Maybe it was the poses, and the way Daniela framed the scenes. Maybe it was the style itself, and the nuances to the color and each stroke of the brush. They reminded Ethan of the art museums he toured with Mia not so long ago.

Bela sat to the side of a desk, propped up next to a castle window as a blizzard raged on. She crossed her legs on her seat, and her head was craned down to study one book. Her arm extended forward to scribble away on a notebook, next to a neat pile of well-used tomes. Sitting atop the pile was a single human skull, methodically preserved with all the care in the world – clearly for anatomical or academic use.

Cassandra stood with a fierce, squared stance, ready for battle. In her right hand, she carried a sickle, tucking it close to her midsection where it couldn't be wrestled from her. In her left hand, she held a hooded figure by the scruff of their clothing. The person's features were obscured by the long shadows of their hood. Cassandra kept them in place on their knees – as if presenting her latest catch for appraisal.

Daniela's heels gave sharp clicks until they came to a stop by Ethan's side. She followed his gaze to the paintings of her sisters, and she commented, "I can't ever get those two to model for me anymore." The frustration leaked into her voice as she went on, "Cassie is always too tense to sit or stand still for long. Bela is always preoccupied studying whatever her latest boring book is."

"Surprised you got them to sit around long enough for these," Ethan motioned to the paintings in question.

"Oh, it took a lot of begging and bribing, believe me," Daniela huffed.

"That bad?" Ethan asked.

"Bela had me participate in some experiments. Nothing bad, I just," Daniela shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "I just despise being poked and studied by those tools of hers."

With a slow nod, Ethan prompted, "And Cassandra?"

Daniela's face fell. "I agreed that I would not bug her for a whole month."

Ethan gave Daniela a sympathetic squeeze of the shoulder. It was best that they didn't dwell on that, so he continued taking his leisurely strides around the room with Daniela in tow. He found an abundance of landscape paintings as well. Some of the views struck Ethan as familiar. The craggy mountain range Daniela brought to life with each precise stroke of black and blue – that was the same terrain surrounding the valley this village was in. The other sceneries varied in season and locale – some in the summer, with the trees bright and alive, and the sun shining down on a grateful world, while others drab and dreary, with the white-capped pine trees standing almost eerily still.

There was no shortage of attention to detail in Daniela's work. It was like she'd captured the images in canvas while standing in the very center of the landscape she was painting.

"Do you bring your art stuff out with you?" Ethan had to ask. "Like in the spring or summer, do you paint in the countryside?"

"No," Daniela shook her head, "Mother only allows us to leave the castle to hunt." She rolled her eyes as she recounted, "I once tried to sneak a small canvas out with me, but mother caught me. She forbade it."

Squinting at her, Ethan asked, "Why?"

Daniela huffed and crossed her arms. "Some precaution to avoid having anything that may slow us down. We are not even allowed to stay out after sundown."

"Is your mother scared for you or something?" Ethan shrugged, even though that hardly felt like the case.

Daniela simply levelled Ethan with her unamused eyes.

"C'mon – what's she worried about? You and your sisters are like, crazy strong and nearly invincible. You can move around really quick as a bunch of flies." Ethan just barely left out the part where Daniela and her sisters were easily some of the most terrifying beings in the valley. To keep it a tad light, he added, "Besides, I'm pretty sure you're old enough to stay up past curfew. So, what gives?"

Daniela's tattooed forehead creased into a frown, and she avoided Ethan's eyes. "I… I don't know. We tried to push it, really. We begged. She dismissed all of our requests. Then," She let out a hot scoff, "When it landed us on cleaning duty for half a year, we never tried asking again."

It got relatively warm in the country in the spring and summer months. Even the evenings lacked the usual chill. Ethan could be wearing cargo shorts and a thin shirt outdoors, and he still wouldn't freeze his buns off. It sounded as though Lady Dimitrescu was making it a point to keep her daughters on a tight leash, regardless of the weather.

"Sounds rough," Ethan muttered, glancing over at another landscape painting. It was of a late winter evening in the forest, with the moon beaming down on a circular stone firepit. When he brought his gaze back to Daniela, he realized his silent question was not conveyed. The woman was too preoccupied frowning in thought of her mother's rules.

To say the least, Ethan was a little suspicious of how it was Daniela was creating such vivid and beautiful landscape art without painting from live reference. Surely whatever images she had in her books could only go so far. Maybe she visited the same spot, day after day, and just visualized the locales under different lighting and weather conditions?

That felt rather unlikely.

The thought was kept to himself for the time being as Ethan resumed his walk around the room – nearly done now. As his eyes ran over the final paintings, it dawned on him that despite Bela, Cassandra, and Lady Dimitrescu's multiple portraits, there had not been a single one of Daniela.

Ethan's attention then went to the sheets of fabric draped over more paintings, tucked into one corner underneath the stairs. Making sure to ask this time, Ethan approached the concealed collection, "Dani, you mind if I give these a look?"

Still following close and eagerly watching his reactions, Daniela nodded, smiling at his interest in her art. "Be my guest."

Taking hold of one corner of the thick fabric, Ethan peeled it free. It revealed the paintings underneath and sent a thin layer of dust into the air. A large handful of the canvases were leaned against one another without much care. It prompted Ethan to ask, "Why aren't these ones hung up?"

"Not enough space," Was Daniela's quick reply.

The first painting that greeted Ethan was another landscape, this time of an old village, nestled in a valley and hidden in the shadow of a towering, gothic castle. He couldn't help but glance at Daniela. The question of how she'd painted these without doing so outside the castle hung on the tip of his tongue. This level of detail wasn't achievable from familiarization alone. But he remained silent for the time being. Instead, he remarked, "Wow. That's impressive."

Each rough shadow from every slanted roof tile, and every nuanced contour to the castle's arches and spires – the attention to detail was unparalleled. Had she snuck pencils and paper and used that to make a rough sketch to base her paintings on?

Daniela beamed at him in turn, completely missing the cranking gears in his head. "Thank you!"

With a final look at the painting, Ethan carefully pulled on the top, allowing him to view the next painting it was leaning against.

Ethan had thought the previous one was curious enough – but this was even more odd to see. Unless Daniela had left out the part where she had photographic memory, and that was how she was recreating the scenery with such precision.

The painting Ethan was currently running his eyes over was the village square. The ramshackle church to one side, and the statue of the woman with the spear were the landmarks that stuck with him. However, instead of bodies filling the space, caked by a layer of snow, blood, and dirt, the village square was green with fresh grass, glistening with morning dew. Several figures mulled about the town center. Rather than appearing oppressed and afraid, they carried a certain life to them as they bustled to and fro. That radiant energy they radiated was leagues away from the frigid husk the village had been reduced to. The denizens of the village should have been running for their lives if the daughters had descended unto them during a hunt. In the painting was the opposite – nothing screamed fear and terror. Only serenity and peace.

Thoroughly consumed by his thoughts, Ethan didn't bother glancing at Daniela. The puzzle pieces mashed together in his mind as he pulled the next painting into view.

The church made a reappearance, this time farther from view and covered in snow. The red gate came into view – the same one that the crazy old lady had closed on him all those days ago. In front of the gated area were several large trucks. They were reminiscent of those big-ass military trucks in the compound that he and Chris trained in. The only difference was that the trucks in the painting were clearly much older in appearance. Crowding around the trucks were several horses, and a dozen men in assortments of brown and khaki uniforms, and olive helmets. Weapons were slung across their bodies, and it was thanks to Ethan's mind-numbing gaming binges that he recognized the long, bolt-action Mosin-Nagant rifles, and the shorter, stockier PPSh-41 submachineguns – both relics from the Soviet Era. All they were missing were the vodka, and all the cheeki breeki with the red flag and the hammer and sickle.

Considering the time and weather, there was no way Daniela witnessed the scene with her own eyes – not in her current state of being.

As Ethan pulled on the painting to reveal the next, he wound up asking Daniela, "When'd you paint these?"

"Couple years ago." Her reply was decidedly nonchalant, completely unaware of his growing confusion.

Ethan went through the next few paintings quicker as his suspicion continued to mount.

One kept the village in the background, while the forefront placed focus on a mass grave lined by countless bodies, while a towering pyre burned nearby – the spillover for the corpses which would not fit in the grave.

These weren't just paintings anymore.

The next was starkly different from the last – a celebration of Christmas, if the caroling children in brightly dressed clothes were anything to go by.

These were memories. They had to be.

Ethan set his hand down on one painting, preparing to pull it over and uncover the next. "You said you don't remember anything from before?" He needed the confirmation, because these paintings simply were not adding up anymore. He craned his head to meet Daniela's gaze. "No memories, unlike your sisters – right?"

Daniela's brow furrowed in confusion – far more genuine than Ethan could wrap his head around. "Yes. I remember nothing." Tilting her head, Daniela continued with the uncertainty heavy in her tone. "You know that. Why do you ask?"

"These paintings – all the landscape stuff," He gave a gentle tap to the collection of paintings he leaned against his hip, "Those guys with the old Russian guns – that's not from this century, Dani. Where'd you get the…" The chuckle, confused and bewildered as it was, slipped out, "Y'know – the inspiration for this stuff. Where'd that come from?"

Daniela pursed her lips for a second before shrugging. "What can I say – my imagination can be overactive. Perhaps I stitched the scenery together from all the books I've read."

Although she had a point there, it hardly felt like a definitive explanation to his query. The unmatched levels of detail – and the simple fact that most people didn't go around painting mass graves and Christmas festivities with no rhyme or reason. This couldn't all be just her imagination.

Ethan kept his voice soft and his tone easy as he began, "You don't think maybe…" His eyes flicked to the paintings once before returning to meet Daniela's gaze. "Maybe you remember more than you think?"

"I…" Daniela's mouth hung open for a beat, "Well… maybe?" Frustration crossed her face and she let out a huff, "I don't know. Even if I did, they're just… images." Daniela laid a hand on the bundle of paintings, taking a look at her depiction of Christmas. Her fingertips ran along the canvas, brushing against the children who laughed and sang without a care in the world – without any regard for the torment and anguish their painter kept buried. "Nothing that tells me who I was or what I was like." She paused to take a breath before going on, "All I have in my head are bits of scenery. Nothing's connected." Her voice lowered to just above a whisper, "They're not memories."

Just when Ethan thought the enigma that was Daniela Dimitrescu couldn't get any stranger.

Even though Bela had alluded to some memories as being nothing but intense feelings and sensations, she had also been very specific about other memories. Bela had very clearly been herself in those recollections of the past.

Whatever Daniela remembered was apparently ten times as fragmented. They were hardly even bits and pieces – just loose, unrelated snapshots of a world long gone. Daniela's world, but not one she even remembered herself in. It undoubtedly didn't do her murky sense of self and identity any favors. Disassociated, disjointed, and just well and truly lost – they were not truly memories, as Daniela had said. They may as well have been the product of an overactive imagination. A creation of Daniela's own, rather than a concrete glimpse into the past. Casting his eyes towards Daniela, all Ethan could see once more was that lost, confused girl.

Ethan sighed, "Well," He set a hand on her shoulder to give a squeeze, "Memories or not, you really make one hell of an artist, Dani."

Daniela gave him an appreciative smile, and he turned his attention back to the plethora of paintings he could still sift through. Pulling the next one into view had Ethan releasing a quiet, awed breath.

After seeing all the paintings of the other members of the Dimitrescu family, Ethan was beginning to think not a single one existed of Daniela.

But here it was, in all its glory. And more.

In remarkable detail, Daniela's likeness was fixed onto the canvas. Though barely a second passed when Ethan realized Daniela was different here.

There was no tattoo marring her forehead. Her vibrant red hair was longer, falling well below her shoulders. Gone was the undercut on the side of her head, and any trace of the scar that lingered beneath the short hair. Her eyes were a soulful, striking shade of green. While the painting ended just below her collarbone, her dress appeared much simpler than the intricate, dark dress she currently wore. No pendant was secured around her neck; the only jewelry in sight were simple earrings, shining bright – second only to her cheery, carefree smile.

The silence hung in the air until Ethan turned to Daniela, who looked rather sheepish. Quite factually, Ethan stated, "This is the only painting of you."

"Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Winters – how observant of you." Daniela smiled with a tinge of sarcasm to his relaying of the obvious.

No explanation came as to why it was that out of the bountiful number of paintings, she only had one of herself. In an attempt to get her to open up, Ethan stumbled over his words, "You, uh – look good."

It earned a short giggle from Daniela. "Why, thank you Ethan. I think green is my color. Don't you agree?"

A glance at the portrait's green eyes followed the next glance at the pendant around her neck. "Yeah. It's definitely your color."

With a pleased hum and a wide smile, Daniela added, "It complements the red." She ran a hand through her hair, fingers brushing past the undercut. Her expression turned sour, and she frowned. "The scar is hideous. I'd hide it by growing my hair out all the way, but it grows patchy over the scar and looks ugly." She released an irate huff, "At least like this, the hair comes out evenly, and the scar is not totally visible."

Standing as close as he was to Daniela, Ethan was able to take a good look at the scar. Uneven and gnarled in shape, with an odd, unnatural seeming pattern. Ethan figured it was now or never to get his next question out.

"If you don't mind me asking," Ethan licked his lips, bracing himself for the possibility of getting the lights choked out of him. "Where'd you get the scar?"

And how was it that a nigh-invincible bug-woman even got scars? Bela didn't have any – or at least, not any visible ones. It may have been dark in his cell, but he hadn't felt a single blemish along Bela's arms and back during her last feeding. Ethan hadn't exactly gotten as intimately acquainted with Cassandra to find out if she had any scars – but considering his knife in her neck and the 9mm at point blank to the torso both did jack shit – it was hard to imagine any scars marring her body. He couldn't so much as get a scratch on her.

Unless Daniela had gotten that scar during some instance when exposed to the cold, when she and her sisters were vulnerable.

The frustration left Daniela's features. The morose smile returned to her lips as she absentmindedly stroked the scar on her head. "I don't remember. I've had it for as long as I can remember."

And there went the theory that she'd gotten it while exposed to the cold. Maybe the scar predated her current condition – before the transformation.

Given that the scar was a jagged sort of thing on the side of her head, Ethan couldn't help but speculate of the deeper story it may tell. Had some brain damage arisen during whatever it was caused that scar? The undercut did a decent job at keeping the damaged skin more lowkey, but it was unmistakably mangled. Daniela had either been in a wicked accident, or someone had done some very questionable things to her poor skull.

The damage had probably in turn caused all the fragmented memories. It might explain why Daniela was the blankest slate among her sisters, with her past reduced to hazy bits of scenery which held little clue to who she was.

As for the rest of the self-portrait, Daniela was being awfully particular with her words – as if she'd simply given herself a makeover via painting. But Ethan was calling it now – this was Daniela's rendition of how she looked in the past. It was like how Bela firmly held onto that past image of her once-blue eyes, long, long ago. Perhaps that image – that one, singular image was all Daniela had left of her past self. Green eyes, long, lush red hair, and a smile that would turn heads from halfway across the village.

Of course, this was nothing Ethan could prove, but it paid to have these working theories in his head. They would pay dividends eventually. He had nothing but time on his hands to speculate and theorize. Maybe Bela could give him some input eventually, after she gave him a rightful slap or two upside the head for his behavior last night.

Looking back at Daniela, Ethan found her fidgeting with her hair – roughly brushing it with her fingers this way and that, as if trying to hide the scar better.

"The scar's not hideous, Dani," Ethan was sure to tell her. "It's hardly noticeable."

Daniela quirked a doubtful brow Ethan's way.

"I mean it," Ethan persisted.

Scars were a rough sort of thing, with little that could be done about them. Ethan himself was largely impartial to them; it was just another fact of life that much of his body – hell, even his gums if you looked hard enough – was a roadmap of scars. Mia had her own share of scars from the shipwreck and the Baker House. Some along her torso, and others along her arms. He'd spent much time reassuring her that the little marks didn't detract from her appearance whatsoever.

In similar fashion as Ethan had done with Mia in the past, he redirected Daniela's attention, "Besides, the undercut's a pretty look on you."

"Is it?" Daniela perked up, giving Ethan her rather sultry, half-lidded gaze. "It's even prettier without this dress. Would you like to see?"

Ethan grimaced, keeping a hand in front of his face to block the view. "I think I'd prefer if you didn't become Ms. Atelier Defiler."

Daniela threw her head back with a sharp laugh. She placed a hand over her mouth to stifle down the giggles until she could let out, earnestly this time, "Thank you, Ethan. I appreciate it." With a gesture to the door, she asked, "Shall we return? It's getting late."

"Yeah," Ethan eased the paintings back, leaning them against one another. Once they were covered again by the thick fabric, he nodded at Daniela, "Let's."

Returning to the library, Ethan could appreciate how particularly Daniela tended to her lighting. With the sun down, the library was considerably dimmer. Thanks to the abundance of lanterns and all manner of candleholders, you could still navigate the space and carry on as usual.

Though the first thing that grabbed their attention upon their return wasn't the lighting at all. It was the fresh trays of dinner set down on the same coffee table they'd eaten at earlier. The scent of savory meat in the air set off an immediate reaction in Ethan's stomach. It gurgled audibly, and his mouth started to water.

Daniela was just as enthralled by the food. Taking in a deep whiff, her hands clapped together with excitement as she concluded, "This is Bela's cooking!"

It got a laugh out of Ethan – the fact Daniela had been able to ascertain this while still halfway across the room. Though considering the sisters appeared to have keener senses, maybe he shouldn't be so surprised or amused.

"They must be done with the cleanup," Ethan muttered while walking, but soon found Daniela still rooted in place by the doorway. He followed her gaze, which bounced between different points in the library. It didn't take him long to connect the dots – she was eyeing all the lighting fixtures.

Again.

After the visit to the atelier, Ethan could now deduce with more certainty that it was only this room where Daniela's obsessive lighting rituals came to play – and the same could likely be said for her penchant for reorganization. There hadn't been any fuss over moving the stacks of books from corner to corner, or positioning the concealed paintings elsewhere. By and large, her loops were restricted to the library.

With the better rapport they now had, Ethan felt that trying to get her to break the pattern wouldn't bite him in the ass – for now.

"Let's dig in while the food's hot." Getting Daniela to break routine felt nearly futile, but he had to try just the same. "It smells divine, doesn't it? Would be a shame to let Bela's cooking go to waste."

"I…" Daniela refused to meet his gaze. Her throat bobbed with a gulp, "I'll be with you in a moment."

Ethan approached her with slow steps, keeping his arms at his sides and his palms exposed – anything to appear as unthreatening as possible. He came to a stop a foot away and ducked his head to make contact with Daniela's flighty eyes. "The lights look just like we left them, Dani."

Daniela's hands shifted at her sides in a restless storm of fidgeting. "I have to be sure."

"Dani, look at me." Ethan lowered his head some more, finally securing Daniela's gaze. He smiled, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "I promise you, nothing bad's gonna happen if we have dinner first." Ethan took a breath, allowing the idea to simmer for a second before he added, "If you really want to check the lights, how about we do it after dinner? Food's waiting, y'know? I'll even help you, okay? I've helped set up a couple renaissance fairs – I'm really good at lighting candles."

About as good as he was at lighting spiders, nests, and Marguerite on fire.

There was a soft, metallic jingling as Daniela brought her hands together. She thumbed Maria's necklace, allowing it to clink and tinkle. It was then that Ethan realized Daniela's shallowing breaths had started to steady – she was cycling through the patterns they had went over hours ago.

"Does that sound good?" Ethan flashed an encouraging smile.

With a final deep breath, Daniela nodded. Her hand came free around her makeshift bracelet as she smiled, brow furrowed ever so slightly in uncertainty. "Dinner sounds good."

Ethan placed a hand on Daniela's back, leading her towards their table. His thumb brushed light strokes against the fabric of her dress – his nonverbal 'good job' for overcoming her compulsions, if only for the moment. Before long, they returned to their seats from earlier in the day, with Ethan on the sofa and Daniela on an armchair.

Seeing dinner up close effectively sucked Daniela in, leaving the fixation on her lights forgotten for the time being. "Bela made Mititei!"

They were rolls of ground meat, that much Ethan could tell. From the smell, he could pick up hints of well-seasoned lamb and expertly spiced beef. Judging by the brighter specs in the glistening meat, chicken may have been incorporated into the rolls as well. A generous side of polenta and freshly sliced onions capped off the meal to ensure dinner kept them stuffed for the evening.

Curiously, Ethan picked his plate up, even though he doubted Bela would send him a note – especially after how the last evening had gone, and the fact Daniela would be witness to the little messages.

He was wrong.

To the stupid man-thing,

As far as mother is concerned, you are not to blame for the incident in the cellar.

Next time, you're cleaning up your own damn mess.

The wind left Ethan.

It was unmistakably Bela's looping, elegant cursive. The note was penned on the familiar off-white stationery, with the flowers along the edges and the Dimitrescu crest at the very top. Her usually warm salutation felt like a punch in the gut this time around; not that he didn't deserve it. The note was so curt and to the point that it hardly felt like any he'd received from Bela in the past nearly two weeks.

Predictably, Daniela snatched the note out of his hand before he could get a say in. "What have you got there?"

It barely took a second for Daniela's sharp eyes to run across the note, and for the message to sink in. Her jaw dropped, and she turned her delighted face Ethan's way. She laughed, sounding bewildered yet happy at the same time. "Bela handled it!"

Ethan felt relief, truly. The note's direct message could not be understated.

The fate he'd earned himself as a result of all that damage – that was something Ethan had already come to terms with. That simultaneously brave and foolhardy part of himself was completely prepared for the tribulations to come. His sense of humanity had cried out in rebellion, and he was obliged to deal with the consequences, however bloody they may be. Now that weight was lifted from his shoulders since the mess in the storeroom was apparently deflected away from him, however it was Bela had managed that.

But Ethan couldn't truly feel the relief in the same way Daniela did, because of the note's subtext.

The directness of the note, the lack of fun fact about the meal, and especially the absent 'Dear Puppy,' or 'Love, Tapeworm' – they were warning signs in flashing lights of how Ethan had fucked up.

And the fact that he'd been looking forward to her sweet salutations and sign-offs – another warning sign of his fading sanity.

If not for his rather crippled state post-Cassandra, he really would have been inclined to assist in cleaning up – especially if the task had been delegated to Bela. It was only by Lady Dimitrescu's decree that he'd been assigned to Daniela instead. But that aside, it was apparent that Bela had meant to jab at him with that remark, rather than literally just wishing he cleaned up his mess in the storeroom. While Bela probably didn't enjoy the manual labor, that was surely the least of her concerns. His jackass behavior the previous night, and the stressful toll he must have inadvertently inflicted on her as a result of destroying the stock – that was a bigger headache for her.

The list of things Ethan owed Bela for was only growing by the day. At this point, he was better off sticking an apple in his mouth, rolling around in seasoning, and presenting himself to Bela on a silver platter.

"What's wrong? I thought you would be happier to hear this news." Daniela studied his face as she extended the note back for him to take.

Ethan took the time to tug his journal free from his pocket, slipping the note in between the pages. Once it was safely stored away, he settled on sarcasm. "Oh, just disappointed – y'know, I was really looking forward to being bled dry for the rest of my life."

It got him a pointed eyeroll from Daniela, shaking her head in disbelief. Regardless, she no longer questioned his reaction. The meal before them demanded attention, and they were more than happy to oblige. The food was delicious, as was always the case when Bela was involved. The meat was grilled to perfection, remaining tender and juicy. The polenta hit the spot, and was as filling as it was delectable.

"I do wonder how Bela was able to shift the blame from you though."

Of course, the topic wasn't completely put to bed that easily. It was only natural that Daniela wouldn't let the matter go just yet.

Ethan grunted around a spoonful of polenta. With a hand covering his mouth, he tossed it back to Daniela, "You said so yourself – she's the smart one; she'd figure something out."

"Yes, but," Daniela gestured towards him with her fork, "How did she un-incriminate you is the question."

"Beats me," Ethan muttered. Whatever Bela had done couldn't have come easy. He had a feeling he would learn of all the juicy details in time, and of all the ways he owed Bela even more. If only he could get Bela alone to speak with her privately. "I'll be sure to ask Bela when I finally see her again."

Daniela's smile took a sly edge to it. Her brows gave a suggestive wave as she asked, "Are you excited to see dearest Bela again?"

Much like Bela had somehow deflected his blame, Ethan deflected Daniela's insinuations. "And get locked up in a tiny cage again? Not much."

"But I thought you enjoyed confined spaces? Don't they excite you?" Daniela shot him a wink and added, "I'll even lend some old books to get that aphrodisiac in the air. Setting the mood is important."

Ethan cringed hard, focusing his attention back on the rolls of ground meet on his plate. "Yeah – no more college stories for you."

Inadvertently, it lit up Daniela's eyes with excitement, "Wait, there are more stories?"

"Dani, eat your food!" Ethan laughed out in a poor attempt at scolding. Daniela complied, once she was done giggling to herself.

In the privacy of his mind, Ethan had already admitted that he missed Bela. After the day he'd had with Daniela, he was missing his blonde jailer all the more. Daniela could be a doll, but she doubled as a minefield. While he may have been learning to maneuver around Daniela, he still had to remain vigilant – deliberately picking his words and trying not to monumentally fuck up. Mentally, it was draining. His missteps were painful. The bruises on his wrist were a testament to that – and Ethan was aware of how there may be matching blue and purple fingermarks around his neck now.

With Bela, there were less and less pretenses. By and large, he could be himself around Bela. He could breathe easy and unworriedly. There was peace with Bela.

The silence settled between Ethan and Daniela, made easier by how engrossed they were with dinner. When their trays finally lied empty on the table, Ethan and Daniela leaned back in their respective seats, feeling contentedly full.

Daniela broke into a yawn first, bringing her arms up high above her head, looking like a cat in the middle of a stretch. Still mid-yawn, she managed out, covering her mouth, "Bela's food is so good," She smacked her lips softly, recovering from the yawn, "You just want to fall right asleep after."

"Food coma," Ethan muttered in agreement, resting his head back on the soft cushioning.

The redhead giggled softly and repeated, "Food coma – I like that."

"Could just pass out right here and now," Ethan joined his hands together, resting them over his stomach. "Just wake me up for lunch tomorrow."

With a slight grunt, Daniela got up to her feet. "Lunch? Are you planning on sleeping in?"

Ethan watched her step away from the coffee table. He'd expected Daniela to start going over the lanterns and lights. His hands went to his knees, preparing to stand up so he could assist her as promised. Instead, Daniela went straight for the central bookshelves, and ran a finger along the rows, searching for a particular book. He shifted slightly from where he sat, just to get a little more comfortable on the sofa. "After the morning I had, I'm ready to sleep two days straight."

Daniela pulled free the book she was searching for in no time. Her gaze was fixed to the cover as she stroked a delicate hand along the surface. She remarked, "I nearly forgot how busy of a morning you had."

Busy was one way to put the pulse-pounding terror and the life-or-death ordeal he survived.

With her book secure, Daniela turned and made her way back towards Ethan. "You've learned so much about me today, Ethan. That foul tongue and your occasional missteps aside – you're quite the gentleman. It would only be fair if you told me about yourself for a change, Mr. Winters."

Ethan blinked up at Daniela as she approached and rounded the table. In signature Daniela fashioned, she ignored all sense of boundaries and sat next to him on the sofa – close enough for their knees and shoulders to make contact. His eyes went to the book she picked out, but she kept it close to her torso, essentially wrapping her arms around it. The cover was concealed from his prying eyes.

"What about me?"

Daniela leaned her head on Ethan's shoulder before responding, "What was your life like before the castle? I'd like to know more about my new friend."

Ethan suppressed the initial urge to shrug Daniela's head off – but considering how placid she was at the moment, it was harmless. Having her head on his shoulder wouldn't kill him. Ethan leaned his own head back on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. His hands fidgeted over his midsection for a beat, thumbs rubbing up against one another.

He supposed she was right. It was only fair, especially after all the information she'd given him. Aside from more possible teasing, there was little ill that would arise from talking about his past, mundane as it was.

"I grew up in California," He began. "Spent most of my childhood being shoved into lockers and getting my head dunked into toilets."

The weight lifted from Ethan's side, and he found Daniela had made it a point to look at him. Her brows met in an incredulous look. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, turns out being the spelling bee champion or the first runner-up in the chess tournament don't make you very popular." They were the two things Ethan had excelled at in his early years. Back then, the only other thing he stood out for was slacking, until he finally took things seriously in his senior year.

"Sounds unpleasant," Daniela muttered under her breath as she returned her head to its previous position.

"Wasn't all bad." Ethan was fairly sure all the swirlies had given him a natural resistance to waterboarding. Too bad they never played five finger fillet – at least then he might gain an advantage against all the sharp objects and profuse bleeding."Besides, I hit my stride in my last year. Figured I needed to shape up so I could go to a college I didn't hate."

Daniela let out a curious hum. "And how did you hit your stride?"

"All those years of running from bullies must have paid off. I ran track and field." Pimply, brace-faced Ethan of yore would never have guessed all that running would one day culminate in outrunning mold-powered mutants. "Started to study properly. Actually applied myself, y'know?"

"And how was college?"

Ethan cracked a smile in spite of himself. "Got drunk and high off my ass more times than I can count."

"Better not tell mother about that when she gives you the talk over Bela," Daniela's frame shook with a short laugh, and she asked, "Is that where you met Mia?"

Meeting Mia was an ordeal in and of itself.

"Yeah, it was my third year in college when she nearly ran me over with her car."

Ethan felt Daniela shift from where she sat. Without lifting her head from his shoulder, Daniela eyeballed Ethan – once more checking to see if he was serious.

"I was running around campus at night. Wasn't wearing anything reflective, so I kinda deserved it." In hindsight, that was the closest he'd ever gotten to a near-death experience. Back when those didn't happen every other day. "She hit the brakes just in time, but I kind of dived out of the way like an idiot and sprained my ankle."

"Was that some sort of elaborate plan of yours to ask her out on a date?" Daniela asked with a soft giggle. "Because that appears to be your modus – get yourself hurt and then secure a date with a beautiful woman."

"No," Ethan laughed at Daniela's wiggling eyebrows. "I didn't exactly plan to get the shit kicked out of me by your sister." Pausing to shake his head, he got back on track, "With Mia, it sorta just happened. She gave me a ride to the campus infirmary so I could get my foot wrapped up. Then…" Ethan still felt sheepish to think back to it. He'd told this story dozens of times before. Hell, he'd already recounted this tale to Bela just days ago during one of their lunches. "It was definitely my fault for not being more visible at night, but she blamed herself – so, she said she'd take me to coffee some time to make up for it."

"I'm seeing a pattern here with the women you like and coffee," Daniela remarked.

"Yeah, yeah," Ethan grumbled, waving his hand in dismissal. He allowed Daniela ample time to laugh it up by herself before he continued, "One thing led to another, and we just hit it off. Fast forward a couple years later and we got married. She moved with me back to California."

He didn't give Daniela time to react and coo over how sweet that sounded. His story with Mia didn't have a happy ending, or even a happy middle thanks to their encounter with the mold in Dulvey. "Things were great at first, then…"

It was easier to talk about. At this point in his life, and being forced to confront his grief and his loss so much – it was becoming a familiar feeling. But it was never pleasant, and he wasn't in the mood to run the gauntlet of emotions all over again. It was why he settled on giving her the Sparknotes version.

"Then they weren't. One day, she disappeared without a trace in the middle of the ocean." Ethan paused to take a breath. The silhouette of the Baker House against the setting sun burned into his vision. "Years later, she reappeared somewhere else entirely, so I tracked her down on my own."

"Like a proper hero, hm?" Daniela's tone had a hint of admiration to it. Like he were some knight in shining armor. Reality was anything but. Ethan could still remember the taste of his own terrified, salty tears; they mixed with the metallic tang of Mia's blood in his mouth as he buried a hatchet into her shoulder.

"More like a proper idiot," Ethan muttered. "Anyway, I found her and we got out, but that didn't last. You already know how that ends," He shrugged one shoulder. "She's gone."

Daniela remained quiet for a long while, until she eased one arm around Ethan's left. Her fingers ran over the scars, old and new alike. They paused over those she inflicted herself, and she took a long, quiet inhale before remarking, "You must miss her terribly."

"I do," Ethan spared a glance at their now entwined arms. There were countless times Ethan had found himself in a similar position. Mia would scoot up against his side, wrapping an arm around his. In her other arm, she cradled Rose, carrying their darling bundle of joy close to her chest. With some mindless documentary droning away on the TV, it was easy for them to eventually fall asleep, gently knocking their heads against one another and drifting off.

"Your old life as well, hm?" Daniela asked. "It must be a far cry from your current time in the castle."

"Definitely," Ethan muttered. The simpler, mundane days were long gone. Back when the most nervous he'd been was mustering up the guts to propose to Mia. When monsters and mutants were just a thing of games, movies, and comic books – not a real, tangible threat that carved scars into Ethan's body and his psyche alike. "What I'd give to be a normal Joe back in my office cubicle."

Yet after all the curveballs life had thrown at him, it appeared he was fated not to go down in history as another humdrum office worker. He could miss the simplicity all he wanted, but fate was a cruel bitch, and he wasn't getting that back.

Hell, Ethan could even miss his time at the Baker House if he really thought about it – it was far more straightforward than his current stint of imprisonment. He knew the rules and what he had to do to survive. By and large, Ethan didn't have to do much thinking at all back then – he could just turn his brain off, let the instincts take over, and fight tooth and nail to survive. Ethan would not pass up on the simplicity of his hellish stay with the Bakers. Although admittedly, his present company was far more accommodating than the former. At least here, his teeth weren't being pried open with a knife, so he could be force-fed maggots.

The games were the same fifty shades of fucked up though; Cassandra and Lucas could probably take notes from each other if they wished. Ethan had enough scars from both of their wicked sources of fun. At least Cassandra had yet to call him up in the middle of the night and obnoxiously ask him to join the party. If his luck could improve for a change, maybe Cassandra had a better taste in music than Lucas, too.

Daniela shifted then, now sitting upright so she could look at Ethan. Her smile was a tad apologetic, and it was coupled by a squeeze of his arm. "I hope I haven't upset you." Her fingertips continued to gloss over the scars she'd left on his arm, while her eyes were fixed to the delicate silver chain around her wrist. "I know how thinking about the past can be difficult."

"It's nice sometimes," Ethan raised one shoulder in a shrug. "It's good to remember where I came from and what things were like before…" He licked his lips for a beat, motioning vaguely to their surroundings, "Before all of this."

"Perhaps I can offer a change in topic?" Daniela thumbed the book in her arms. She cradled it with as much care as a newborn.

"Whatcha got there?" Ethan nodded his head at the book.

Daniela bit down on her bottom lip for a second, "I must admit…" She took a breath and spoke quickly to get all the words out, "I really like your voice. I wanted to ask if you could read to me."

Ethan's eyebrows raised in mild surprise. Before he could voice his perplexity, Daniela winced and spoke up, "Please don't make me ask again. It's embarrassing."

It was endearing to see a blush dusting Daniela's pale face as she pointedly kept her eyes away from his. Admittedly, acting as her audiobook certainly beat watching Daniela obsess over the lights, or going back to rearranging the bookshelves ad infinitum.

"Sure," Ethan gave a shrug and nodded. "Why not?"

The book extended forward as Daniela revealed the cover. It was a collection of Grimm's Fairy Tales. The book was bound in fine, dark leather, and the name was inscribed in gold, which reflected light from the nearby lantern. This was on Ethan and Mia's shopping list of books to get for Rose.

When the book didn't come free from Daniela's grasp, Ethan's eyes snapped to meet hers. He discerned the message even before Daniela solemnly told him, "Please be careful with it." Her voice was silent when she finished, "It's… a very personal book."

One had to wonder if this is the book Maria died over. If it was, there were no visible dents or scuff marks that gave it away at a first glance. It appeared exceedingly well-preserved, old as it was.

"I will."

Ethan's word was enough for Daniela to release her hold on the book.

With great care, Ethan placed the book on his lap. "Any particular story?"

"Hmm…" Daniela let out a long hum at first, before settling her head on Ethan's shoulder and closing her eyes. "Surprise me."

Obliging, Ethan ran his fingers along the side of the book. Gently, he opened it to a random page, and began flipping until he uncovered a title. Ethan landed on the Cat and Mouse in Partnership.

With a side-eyed glance at Daniela, Ethan made a hearty flip over towards a different story. Perhaps to land on a tale which had a moral that was not that the nature of creatures and people could seldom be changed.

As Ethan's streak of Romanian luck would have it, the next random pick was Little Red-Cap, or Little Red Riding Hood, as it was better known these days. Give him a red cape and this story may as well have been about Ethan's mad dash through the village and the nearby forests. Ethan felt an involuntary twitch out of the corner of his eye as he declared, "Had enough of overgrown wolves lately, to be honest – I could go the rest of my life without seeing another wolf."

Daniela only chuckled softly as Ethan began flipping once more. As the pages went by, Ethan was made aware of the occasional stains towards one corner of the book. Dark, faded red in color – unmistakably blood. Very old blood. It was another macabre story for another day, Ethan figured – one he likely wouldn't learn any time soon. More deliberately now, Ethan turned all the way to the beginning of the book; he figured he'd try his luck there.

Ethan arrived at The Frog King – a decidedly cheerier tale, considering the unlikely connection made between the frog and the princess, and the importance of keeping promises.

Clearing his throat, Ethan was thankful to find it no longer sore after Daniela's latest outburst hours prior. He didn't put too much thought into the oddness of it all – of how the person who nearly snapped his neck like a twig was now resting her head on his shoulder. After everything with Bela, Ethan knew he was beyond questioning his strange friendships. Taking a breath, Ethan began, "In olden times when wishing still helped one, there lived a king…"

The words continued to flow, and Daniela remained perfectly silent to his side. As he spoke, he occasionally glanced her way, only to find she had not moved a muscle. Her eyelids remained shut and at ease. Her chest rose and fell with steady breaths. Even the arm wrapped around his had not moved in the slightest.

"… Faithful Henry helped them both in, and placed himself behind again, and was full of joy because of this deliverance." Ethan paused to take a breath. He couldn't help but wonder if there were bizarre parallels to be drawn here. He'd hardly consider himself a princess, or the Dimitrescu sisters to be frogs – but maybe there was something to be said about the commitment to helping them better themselves.

Chris would make a god-awful Henry, considering his penchant for backstabbing and shooting people Ethan cared about. Maybe the Duke could be his Faithful Henry.

As the fairytale eventually came to a close, and silence filled the air, Daniela began to shift in their seat. Kicking off her heels, she pulled her legs up onto the sofa. Daniela began to lie down, clutching onto his hand and maneuvering it to get comfortable – practically curling around it like a kitten. Her head landed on his lap, and she was still for just a beat before craning her head up to look at him. She winked. "I quite like the view from down here."

"Don't even think about it. I've got a heavy book and I'm not afraid to use it," Ethan grumbled, even if any of the usual venom was now absent. He was both too tired and too accustomed to Daniela's flirtatious passes by this point.

The rumble emanating from Daniela's chest as she giggled felt far too close for Ethan's liking, but he suppressed any ill thoughts towards her. This was just Dani being Dani, with her lack of physical boundaries and her bombs of innuendo left and right.

More earnestly this time, Daniela asked, "Could you read another?"

She turned up the puppy dog eyes, and squeezed his hand, which was still thoroughly trapped from where it was – with Daniela wrapped around it. "Pretty please?"

With a nod, Ethan was already beginning to pick the next story. Daniela yawned in turn, and took a moment to stretch. It reminded him of a cat before nestling in bed – or a carton box. Then she lied her temple down on his lap. The yawn soon spread to Ethan, finally dissipating when he landed on the next story.

It was another classic – Rapunzel.

"There once was a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for a child."

Stifling another yawn, Daniela interjected, "If Bela's hair were longer, this tale may hit too close to home for you."

Ethan completely ignored her teasing. "At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her desire…"

Lady Dimitrescu was a little too fair to be a wicked witch or stepmother. But Ethan couldn't deny some similarities – the castle and its towers (though Bela inhabited the dungeon rather than a tower), and the guardian keeping the daughter under lock and key. Ethan didn't consider himself princely in any shape or form, especially accounting for the fact he was currently a prisoner. So, those similarities started and ended with the circumstances of Bela's living conditions.

That was a good thing, too. If there were any more parallels, he was bound to end up blinded by a thorny bush for several months.

"… Two of her tears wetted his eyes and they grew clear again, and he could see with them as before." Ethan took a moment to stifle a yawn, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. "He led her to his kingdom where he was joyfully received, and they lived for a long time afterwards, happy and contented."

It must have been comforting to have such a secure, well-defined happy ending. That surely beat having an anxiety-laden middle to your story, and nothing but. With how volatile and uncertain Ethan's life had been the past few years, he could go with some consistency and finality for a change.

But thinking back, that was what Ethan thought he had once he reunited with Mia, and they entered into witness protection under Chris. Their story was over – or at least, the stressful, bloody, mold-melded part of it was. Now, the rest of their life would be the quiet epilogue.

How wrong he was.

Happy endings were only a thing of fairytales. The real world was an unfair, unforgiving place. The deafening bark of Chris' pistol had reminded him of that.

Ethan sent his gaze to Daniela, who was curled into a ball by his side, still holding onto his arm. Her breaths came out slowly and steadily – even and contented. With the story complete, she still did not stir, and that appeared to be the signal that she had fallen deeply asleep.

With great care, Ethan closed the book and set it down on the coffee table, even as another yawn snuck up on him. Holding his free hand over his mouth, he observed the library around him. The shadows grew long and dark now that the candles and lanterns were burning out. Whatever little moonlight struggled to peer through the skylight, as the thick clouds above obscured the view.

It was peaceful. One could hardly guess that someone had been beaten bloody and sentenced to death in this room just a day ago. The dark shadows did a splendid job obscuring the red patches on the even redder carpet.

There was even less evidence that he had his own close calls just hours ago. Ethan could thank his lucky stars that his neck was unsnapped, and his hand was still attached to his body – but he put little stock in luck these days. He could only bask in grateful silence that he was unharmed, and his belly was full once more with a delicious meal. He was sitting on a soft sofa, wore clean clothes, and his current jailer was wrapped around his hand like a kitten – things could be much, much worse. He could still be in his damp, blood-soaked clothes and steadily bleeding out in the storeroom.

Now the only thing staining his clothes would be Daniela's drool on his jeans as she snoozed away peacefully.

After the day he'd had, Ethan was tuckered out beyond words. While lying down would be ideal, beggars – or prisoners – couldn't be choosers. With Daniela sound asleep, his eyelids were now making it a point to remind him of just how heavy they were getting.

Ethan gave Daniela a final glance and acknowledged the fact he was not getting his hand back anytime soon. Truly, he was happy for her – glad that she could be at peace curled around his arm like that. Once more, it reminded him a little too much of Mia, and all the times he'd read to her in bed when she was heavily pregnant with Rose. Not fairytales though – more of the crime thrillers that Mia was so fond of. As if having lived through actual traumatic body horror wasn't enough for Mia – she was still a sucker for the pulse-pounding, page-turning thriller genre.

How odd that was. His normal wife – as normal as she could be after the mold – was a huge fan of horrific tales of monsters and killers. Daniela – someone he would have called a monster just hours prior – adored her classic fairytales.

With how soundly Daniela slept, you would never tell at a glance that she could rip you apart without blinking an eye. She looked to be every bit the sweetheart Bela had said she was – just as Daniela had proven as long as he stayed on her good side.

Though admittedly, Ethan knew all too well that looks didn't count for much in that regard. Few could guess that a nerd like him had survived as much as he had, and put as many mutated wolfmen and mold monsters into the ground as he had. Few could guess that his trauma ran deep enough to hone white-hot killer instincts that he had to consciously suppress – for the sake of his humanity as much as Daniela's and Bela's.

If he could help their humanity bloom in such impossible circumstances, surrounded by blood and death – then maybe he had a shot at overcoming his own trauma. After all, strange as it was in this case, sometimes the best way to help yourself was to help other people.

Even if they were vampire bug-women, and he was their prisoner.

"I'm insane," Ethan muttered to himself – if saying the words out loud even counted for anything anymore.

With a last sigh, Ethan leaned his head on the sofa's backrest. His eyes shut, and all the day's challenges – from Cassandra's messed up idea of a game, to walking on thin ice around Daniela – all caught up to him. The exhaustion set in, blanking his thoughts, and wiping his usually turbulent mind clean. His brain was as empty as a blank slate by the time he drifted off into a dreamless, fit-less sleep.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Please do give those fave and follow buttons a quick smack, and be sure to write in with a review to let me know how you felt about this chapter, and I'll get back to you around the time of the next chapter's posting!

This was another fun one here with the tour of the atelier. I figured if I was writing *Artist Dani* then that big-ass painting of Lady D might as well be by her as well. A bit of a testament to her unparalleled skill as an artist, when she's not stuck rearranging her library until kingdom come.

The two classical looking paintings of the sisters are inspired by Italian painter Caravaggio. Bela's is based on St. Jerome Writing, while Cassandra's is based on David with the Head of Goliath.

With Ethan's very long, long day finally coming to a close, the next chapter brings some interesting things in store, and I'm super excited to share that chapter with you soon. I won't spoil it of course, but I think you'll enjoy what I have planned.

As always, thanks so much for all the support and patience. With the holidays coming to a close (happy new year!), I'm gonna go back to being pressed for time soon. I'll do my best to keep a semi-consistent posting schedule going. I'll catch you guys hopefully around the same usual time next week. Stay safe out there!