Vincent was no longer in his chair when she awoke. She could feel the weekend sun streaming through the windows and onto her exposed skin; It's warmth not dissimilar from that of the fire, which was now a pile of smouldering ashes in the firepit. She shifted on the settee and felt the tug of a silk blanket against her arms. Its unexpected appearance baffling her. She hadn't fallen asleep with it and was certain that she did not get up and reach for it in the night, yet it was there.

It was then that she heard Vincent leave his room. His gentle footsteps were barely audible over the sound of the door clicking shut behind him. He was finely dressed; the sun catching the white fabric of his shirt despite his best attempts to avoid its rays.

He looked towards her, his hazel eyes passing over the mass of silk which lay crumpled around her clothed form; as if he were subtly admitting that it was he who had put it there.

She observed him as he walked into the kitchen. Seemingly curious as to what a vampire would need from such a room. He faced away from her, reaching for the frying pan that hung on the wall and placed it on the stovetop. The sheet stuck to her skin as she struggled against it, peering over the back of the settee hoping to see what was in the pan. If he was preparing blood for himself, he did not let it on. Perhaps, he was masking it to avoid startling her again?

The familiar, rich aroma of seasoned meat soon filled the air. Evangeline closed her eyes and inhaled the pungent scent. It reminded her of her father's butchery. The moment she would enter the shop a cacophony of pleasant smells would catch her attention, all of which grew more intense the closer she got to their threshold. A smile curved her lips at its remembrance, she could envision the cured meats hanging on the racks and the freshly dispatched pork in the freezer room, their alien appearance filling her younger self with morbid fascination. Perhaps, he shouldn't have let her enter the rear of the butchery as willingly as he did, witnessing death strung upon racks became a common occurrence in her childhood. Eventually, she came to find peace amongst the solitude of his shop, working quietly beside him when she found the time.

Evangeline stood up from the settee, placing the folded sheet over the arm before gathering a spare change of clothes and walking into the bathroom. The room was small but sported delicate tiles and furnishings; its design reminiscent of an era not long forgotten. She ran a bath for herself; as there was no shower, then quickly changed into her new clothes. When she emerged from the bathroom, she found Vincent sitting in his armchair eating his breakfast.

As she drew nearer, she could finally see what he had been preparing: it was black pudding. It wasn't the food in question which shocked her; it surprised her that he could consume food at all. She half expected him to emerge from the kitchen with fresh blood for himself.

"I didn't think Vampires could eat human food." She remarked, now perched on the edge of the settee.

He shook his head and covered his lips with his finger as if to usher silence before finishing his mouthful.

"Indeed. This is the only 'human food' my body can tolerate."

"Then why eat it?"

"I feared that I would cause further distress by drinking blood in front of you."

A playful smile spread across her cheeks.

"You're afraid that I, a medical examiner, would fear the sight of blood?"

A smile tugged at his lips and he shook his head, chuckling at the absurdity of his worry as if it were irrational.

With that, he turned away, returning his plate to the kitchen before retrieving his coat and gloves. She eyed him from afar, keeping her gaze subtle as not to draw his attention. His words stuck with her, as if they were an echo; their unintended malice instilling enough fear to rob her cheeks of their rosy sheen. She hadn't lied to him, the sight of blood had little effect on her, yet she was filled with worry; worry that he may feed upon her instead, despite his firm moral stance.

"Where are you going?" She asked, despite her uneasiness. The prospect of being left alone in his home filling her with greater anxiety.

"To church, you're welcome to join me." He said earnestly, slipping his hand into his glove. The light dancing on the wet leather.

"Oh. No, I'd rather not. I'm an atheist..."

"So am I." He smiled reassuringly, "I go because I enjoy the atmosphere, it's good for reflection... Perhaps you'll enjoy it too, after all, It would be nice to have your company."

Evangeline soon fell into step with him, their shoes caked with a mixture of clay and slate from the coastal path. He had told her very little about the church, other than it being 'a short distance away' which she was beginning to question. They had walked far enough that she could see the town on the hill behind them, with the snow-covered mountains and St. Georges channel visible in the background. She looked ahead of him at the clearing, spotting the sandstone steeple through the trees, the falling blossoms obstructing her view and carpeting the floor like snow.

It was Vincent who broke their silence, remarking on the beauty of the landscape and how it was unique to Wales. Which she didn't respond to, merely allowing him to fill the dead air with his musings.

She followed him across the meadow, into the church, and down the nave before seating herself next to him a pew. They sat towards the back of the chapel away from the growing mass of people. Evangeline strained to hear their indistinct chatter over the reverberation of the bells as if they all spoke in whispers, whilst Vincent paid little attention to the overwhelming sounds of the children and the elderly, the organ and carillon, almost as if he couldn't hear them at all. She did not share his indifference and attempted to distract herself with the gothic architecture and stained-glass windows.

'How can he find this relaxing?'

As soon as she finished her train of thought the air fell still, replaced with an even more deafening silence. Her subtle breaths became audible as though they belonged to Vincent, and he was exhaling directly into her ear. She remained quiet as the priest began his sermon, too polite to dismiss his teachings but quickly felt her eyes glaze over in boredom.

"I've never understood why basic moral concepts need to be taught to the masses like this," She said lowly as not to disturb anyone, "I thought knowing not to steal, or to inflict harm onto others and so on was common knowledge... Yet, they all look as if they've never heard morals before and that there something new and wonderful."

Vincent turned to her then, bowing his head to meet her gaze. His expression a unique mix of softness and curiosity.

"I'd never thought you to be judgmental," he teased, receiving an arched brow from Evangeline in return, "Why do you say such things? To slight these people? If that is the case, then I do not believe you can comment on others morality-" She withdrew from him, visibly hurt by his accusation. "- Some may be hearing these teachings for the first time, you're quite right, whilst others are pleased to have their morals reaffirmed, regardless of how basic they may seem... I do not think they are at fault for either of these things... I'd much rather people were taught these lessons, instead of not being taught at all, would you not agree?"

"Well... yes, I agree that being taught morals is a good thing, but I don't believe that those who aren't, do not understand them. I believe everyone is born with a basic understanding of morality, it just needs developing."

"If that's what you believe, then why slight these people for developing their morals through sermons?"

She couldn't answer him, he had outwitted her and remained cordial whilst doing so whilst she was agitated.

"... I was being judgmental, as you said."

She turned away from him, ashamed by her brash remarks, hoping the pew would extend and increase the distance between them. She had not meant to dismiss the congregation, why her mouth didn't speak the words she wanted, she didn't know and now she found herself frustrated despite Vincent's friendly rebuttal.

"Don't get upset," He said, "It's good to have these types of discussions..." He reached out and brushed her delicate knuckles with his thumb, gently messaging her soft skin. In an instant, her gaze fell onto his hand, unsure if she should be shocked by his forwardness or bask in the reassuring embrace. It was an innocent gesture, yet she cursed the thought of him pulling away, instead, she fought the urge to intertwine her fingers with his.

Minutes passed before they spoke again, both lost in musings of their own. Evangeline brought her finger to her lip in thought, considering what he had just said. He possessed a sharp wit, far greater than her own. She had met others who appeared to be equally witty, but she assumed that this sudden outburst was only a glimpse into what his mind truly held and felt. How many years must he have spent improving his mind, if he did so at all? Did he make use of the extra time his genetics gave him, or did he waste the opportunity by chasing passing desires, like so many others?

"How old did you say you were, again?... 274?" She whispered, not taking her eyes off of the priest.

He nodded.

"I was born in 1746, during the reign of Yelizaveta Petrovna..." He responded faintly, uttering the name in perfect Russian as if he had never stopped speaking his native tongue.

She looked at him with wide eyes, no longer enchanted by the murmuring of the pastor.

"What was it like? Growing up a vampire?"

He thought for a moment before responding in bursts of whispers.

"I don't think I can give you a brief answer. There were periods which I look back on fondly... and there are periods which I'd much rather forget... I loathed the first 180 years of my life. I was destitute, my family, and I had little prospects and no money to speak of. Our only comfort was the dilapidated wind-mill we inhabited, no one dared to confront us over it, not even the forces; As far as they were concerned ghosts occupied the mill... We had to make do with what we found: Reusing discarded clothing and amenities and devouring small creatures which had the misfortune of being in our vicinity," He animated each word with his hands as if they were speaking a story of their own.

"My siblings and I were put to work at a young age, like other children, but we had to be careful with how we conducted ourselves, making sure our vampirism would go unnoticed. We worked only under the cover of night or darkness and went to great lengths to hide our feedings, but my sister didn't share our concern and often hunted the aristocrat's pets, in some misguided sense of rebellion, and put us all at risk of being discovered. She's so unlike me-" He smirked as he spoke of his sister, her unruly acts of defiance filling him with a sense of pride, as though he was pleased that she possessed the gumption that he never had.

"But it was not my sister's antics which forced us to flee Russia. It was the seven year's war. You could imagine what it was like, for four young children to sneak onto cargo ships heading to God knows where, where people spoke different languages and celebrated different traditions. I found myself on a ship heading towards London, whilst my siblings ended up in France and Italy... I have no idea how long I stood on the dock once I arrived, minutes maybe hours, It didn't matter... I was truly, utterly alone. I had never felt so hopeless. I didn't speak a word of English or understand any of their customs. I spent my first few months wandering the streets, hoping I would end up somewhere. Very few people took pity on me, I was a foreigner, an outsider. It was only by sheer, dumb luck that a noblewoman found me and took me in - after convincing her husband, and I became their adopted son. They gave me an expensive education, clothed in the finest attire and spoilt me with things which I never knew existed; I had never heard of toys until then. But as my life improved, I became riddled with guilt. I felt as though I had deserved none of this and frequently worried about my siblings. What was troubling is that I became exceptionally materialistic and distrusting of others, assuming that they'd take everything away… I would isolate myself with my studies, using my inherited wealth to attend different universities and colleges; I was fascinated by medicine - which won't come as a surprise to you... Of course, this freedom did not last. My adoptive family noticed that I grew far slower than other children and never appeared to eat when they did. They assumed that I was constantly sick because of my pale complexion and became suspicious of me. How the public would whisper! They spread rumours about my family, claiming that they had taken in a ghost or demon: the devil's child. That's what they called me, and my family believed that I was some supernatural being. So I absented myself, fearful of what they were planning to do with me and how they would be treated by the public. That's what I loathed the most: leaving my loved ones behind. I outlived everyone I knew and became intimately familiar with grief and loneliness. In my sadness I moved to Wales and dedicated all of my time to studying medicine and vampirism; I worked with famous doctors, scientists and pharmacists of the times and continued doing this throughout the Georgian, Victorian and Edwardian era. It was only when I reunited with my siblings after the second world war, that I stopped my studies and spent my time with them. It was a joyous occasion when I saw them again, knowing that they had survived throughout their hardships and had built a livelihood for themselves. What surprised me the most is that they had met other vampires. I was convinced that we were the sole members of our species, but this revelation gave me a new goal in life: to find others of my kind, to study them, to educate them and in time have humanity accept our species, so we would no longer have to hide or spend our long lives alone. . ."

He sat motionless for a moment, his smooth, pale skin glistened as though he was carved from marble and had joined the sculpted angels & cherubs in their deathlike splendour. The only sign of life came from his warm earthy eyes, their subtle movements drawing her attention, similar to how the flickering of a flame attracts one's eye.

"You need not tell me anything else if it disturbs you." She whispered, her body poised to face the priest once again.

Hard as she tried, she could not separate the murmuring of the priest from her inner dialogue, his low droning voice becoming static in the background before fading out entirely. Only Vincent's tale, his grim monologue, remained and echoed in her ears as if he was continuing to speak it. How was she supposed to comprehend his history? He had survived throughout two, almost three centuries. He had breathed the very air her ancestors did; he had worn the clothing which had been so delicately captured in paintings and tapestry and felt the fabric against his skin; he had ridden in carriages which traversed the Victorian streets of London, smelt the smog in the air, heard the bustling voices of people long dead and danced to their music. He was a living fragment of history.

"No. I ought to tell you more," He confessed suddenly, his body now as animated as before. "I haven't spoken to anyone in this manner."

"Not even your family?"

He shook his head.

"Then... Why confide in me? I'm nothing to you, especially when compared to your family."

"Nothing? Ha, you are no stranger to me!" He chuckled, the tips of his fangs appearing behind his plump lips for an instant. "Why you? I can't say what drew me to you. I suppose it was instinct."

'Instinct'. She looked at the tapestry to the right of her. It was draped from a railing against the wall, the light from the stained window casting it in shards of colour. Was it instinct? Could he not highlight a quality which drew him in? She ran her hand through her hair. She had given him little reason to admire her, that she was certain. He had been friendly and obliging whilst she had remained distant and suspicious. She had no reason to continue acting in such a way, he had confessed to her his secret, his vampiric burden and spoke about his troubled past; which he rarely shared with anyone. He was right, she was no stranger.

"You know, I've severely misjudged you."

"You have?" He furrowed his brows in confusion.

"I used to think of you as out of touch and untrustworthy. I was adamant that you were dangerous and meant me harm. But I can see now how wrong I was. You're one of the most friendly, open-minded, and accomplished people I've met." She began, her gaze falling to her feet, "I'm not accomplished in the slightest, nor do I have a fixed goal in life like you. I just drift through everything, hoping that things will work out but they never do. I'm lucky to have ended up where I have..."

Her face fell flat, her eyes dark and tired. She was exhausted from having suppressed her emotions for so long and felt as though she had just confessed an intimate detail about herself and was awaiting scrutiny, no matter how much relief her little admission brought her.

He looked at her then, his expression so determined that she wondered what he would do next.

"Join me." He said, now grasping her wrist.

She looked at him with an arched brow but did not pull away.

"I don't understand-"

"With my studies. It will give you a sense of purpose and I will appreciate your help."

Her eyes lit up at his offer, their icy blue irises iridescent in the sunlight. 'What an opportunity!'. It was unthinkable. What scientists would give to research a new species. She could not let this go but urged herself to remain sceptical. From what he had shown her, all of his research was conducted informally and the literature which he sourced only spoke of theories. Did he not have access to a laboratory or a research team? Was anyone aware of his studies? She decided to ask him.

"I can access the university's labs, but I can not research my theories in that environment. If they were to discover my studies I would be publicly outed and... God knows what would happen then. No vampire has ever done what I'm doing and no vampire would ever support it-"

"Why?"

"Because I will be putting my entire species at risk. I invite you to imagine what would become of the world if the existence of vampires was confirmed, such a revelation needs to be handled with care to avoid causing worldwide panic. We must not allow legend or the human imagination to be the only representation of our species because if we allow it, they will treat us like mindless, immoral monsters with a lust for death and suffering; we will be denied rights, denied humanity and imprisoned if not killed or worse. You see, that is why we must keep our studies quiet, to avoid rousing suspicion within the vampiric and human community until we are ready to expose ourselves."

"But how will researching vampires help you expose your existence?"

"Well, to convince one of one's harmlessness, would it not be wise to see if you are harmless, and to be accepted into society, would it not be wise to know the areas in which they must adapt to accept you and if you are compatible. None of this can be achieved if you do not research it first."

Evangeline sat there astonished, deaf to the church bells, blind to the pastor and blind to the crowd now leaving their pews and shuffling down the aisle. Only Vincent seemed to exist at present, his passion for his work now infecting her and filling her with a nostalgic sense of determination and childish abandon. She took hold of his hand and pulled him out of his seat as if he weighed nothing at all.

"Come! We must head back. Teach me everything you know!"