Hello!

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OOO

It had been three years since the night Sarah Chagal had been brought to safety by Count Von Krolock. This particular night found Edmure Reeds alone and unable to sleep. Usually when he was alone and unable to sleep he'd end up doing a very unwise thing and it seemed he'd done it again tonight. It was especially bad when Veronica was gone and Veronica was gone so often. Even Maria wasn't home this evening, nor was their son, Claudius. Absolutely alone was Edmure, and all he could think about was one thing. Well, two things, he supposed.

"You called?" Purred the familiar voice as cold arms wrapped around his waist. Edmure had not seen Herbert in ages. He despised himself for rekindling what had once been between them, but he could hardly live in the facade he had created either. Besides, now there was Claudius; finally, an heir. That's all he needed, really. That's all his father had wanted. Veronica was very dear, but Edmure could never feel the way about her she felt about him. Of that he was very certain. For twelve whole years he had lived in this façade of a life. Not a life he despised, but not one he was particularly happy in either. Herbert made him happy. So right after Claudius's birth two years past, Edmure called for Herbert again.

Edmure had been surprised Herbert had been so receptive to the idea of it. Edmure was much older than they had been when it started. Though, he supposed, Herbert was still much older himself. Despite it, Edmure could not help but feel an old man compared to his partner. Though if his age now bothered Herbert, the vampire had said nothing about it. Which was good, for Edmure so delighted in being with him again.

It was a secret, this tryst, and a very well kept one. The slits Edmure made in his skin were small and unnoticeable and he found ways to make them heal quickly. Veronica would be so upset if she knew, and he didn't want to upset her. He couldn't upset the children either. Maria was so smart and so wonderful: he loved her and Claudius like he'd never loved anything before. He could not hurt them. Everything would be ruined should Edmure's secret get out.

"I need to talk with you," Edmure said as he turned around. Herbert was standing far too near to him and he suddenly forgot what exactly he'd been planning to ask.

Herbert pouted, "That's rather boring. I thought you'd called me for something a little more…fun."

"I'm sorry, but it can't wait," Edmure said fervently. "I have a question. About your father."

"About my father?" Herbert made a noise of disgust then turned and sauntered off to the bed. He laid out upon it, looking far too seductive and making Edmure forget why he was talking again. "What about my father?"

"Do you know a Sarah Chagal?"

Herbert raised his brow quizzically. "That's not a question about my father, Edmure."

"So say it's several questions." Edmure teased easily, moving to sit upon his bed. The vampire stared at him with squinted eyes and did not move from his lounged position. "Do you know her?"

"Of her," Herbert responded astutely. "What is the fascination with that little thing?"

"She's Maria's friend," Edmure explained. It seemed Herbert was getting bored with him. When Herbert got in a mood, he'd often leave before they even touched each other. Edmure hoped he wasn't upset. "Sarah told Maria that your father leaves presents for her. Is that true? And for what reason?"

Herbert groaned half-heartedly, "He can be a ridiculously sentimental man." It must've shown upon his face that Edmure had no idea what Herbert meant by that claim. He clicked his tongue, crawling a bit towards him. "There's nothing immoral in it, if that's what you're worried about. He just...I don't know, feels some sort of kinship with the little thing. I don't understand it at all and he hardly speaks to me about it." His arms snaked around him, "He hardly speaks to me about anything."

"I just worry for her," Edmure continued, desperate for someone to talk to. His qualms were not ones he could discuss with Veronica and especially not with Maria. It seemed Herbert was not a good option either, his mouth now placing kisses on Edmure's neck and certainly not listening to a word. "Sarah is like…like another daughter to me. Her father is drunk all the time and the mother ignores her."

Herbert breathed, "Well, maybe father will stop being so brooding and give the little girl an immortal kiss and be done with it. They'd certainly both be much happier for it."

"Is that what he wants to do?" Edmure asked as his heart caught in his chest. He should not be so horrified by the notion. In fact, the notion had come into his own mind many times yet Herbert had never made him any offers of immortality. Yet Sarah… Sarah was just a child. She was so sweet and good, precocious and cunning. He'd heard the rumors (everyone had) that Count Von Krolock was requiring a new Countess but he could not believe that a child would…

Edmure's mind instantly left behind any thought of Sarah and Herbert's fingers moved down his thighs. His long fingers trailed back up Edmure's body, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt. Edmure found his mind erasing of the other things he needed to tell Herbert when his lips started kissing very softly on his neck once again.

"I haven't the faintest what father wants to do, nor do I entirely care." Herbert peeled the shirt from Edmure's skin. "Now, I don't think you called me here to talk about my father, did you?" Edmure shook his head no. "Good."

Herbert kissed him again and they did not speak for the remainder of the night.

OOO

Sarah was sent to live with an aunt she hadn't met it a place she hadn't been for the first month of the summer. The Aunt was Aunt Violet and the place was Constanta, a wealthy Romanian city by the sea shore. Sarah had not known that last factoid, a woman at the tavern named Natalia had told her all about it. Natalia insisted Sarah would have the most wonderful time and see the beautiful city and go to ballets and operas and all sorts of things that sounded wonderfully magical.

The reality was less so. Sarah's Aunt Violet lived in a rather large house near the shore with no children and four large dogs. Sarah had never much been a fan of dogs, so the hounds took a bit of getting used to. Besides the five of them, the big house was empty and strangely cold for being so near to the sand. A widow was she, and a wealthy one at that, so she made a point to take Sarah in for the month to help her with her "transition into womanhood." Whatever that meant.

Sarah's parents had been more than eager to get rid of her, though Sarah was not entirely sure why. Nothing strange had happened since that night of the winter storm. Well, nothing strange that Sarah had told her parents about. Like before, protective measures were strong in the weeks following the episode. It seemed everything Sarah had was covered in garlic and her room lingered with the smell for months. She wouldn't tell her parents, but the garlic did not even work. For once in a while, Sarah would get little trinkets from her angel.

Of course she knew he was not an angel. Sarah knew what he really was, she was not daft, yet thinking of him as an angel made it easier to think about him. He was the angel she had prayed for: Sarah knew it. It was not very frequently her angel left her a present, but in the loose floorboard where she kept the blanket there would sometimes be left a gift. Primroses, on occasion, would be there waiting for her. Little figurines of animals or people would sometimes be found amidst the red folds of her blanket. There was even once a beautiful hair comb that she never had occasion to wear but no less admired. It felt very nice to be admired.

She told no one of this but Maria, for Maria found it fascinating and not scary as Sarah found it fascinating and not scary. They were just presents. They were just kindness. And it was so wonderfully fun to have a secret.

During the first day of her stay at Constanta, Sarah wondered if her angel worried for her. She'd thought about leaving a note to explain where she'd gone but knew she'd get in terrible trouble if such a note were found. Would her angel know where she was? Not that it mattered, really. She just…

She didn't know why she worried.

OOO

Elisabeth was still lying across the bed when Von Krolock rose for the night. His sleep had been satisfying if short and he felt a small bit better than he had the night before. There had been unrest among his brood, an unrest easily set right, yet it still riled him to know it had happened at all. The ball was nearing and they all would feel better after feeding. Supplies were running low and their reputation in the village was already on a thin line. A thin line he'd created with his own selfishness

If not for Elisabeth, Von Krolock would've spent the night doing nothing but turning over in his own mind. Elisabeth was very good for distractions and other comforts: she gave them freely without requiring anything in return. Many of the other women had not the same mentality as she. Elisabeth's profession from her human life made her less affected by things like love. Von Krolock was rather certain he had forgotten how to love and many of the other woman required it if they were to share his bed. He could simply not give them the thing they required.

"You're awake quite early, master," Elisabeth noted in a voice full of sleep.

"There's much to attend to," he responded. Not a lie, for there truly was. The accounts needed to be settled and he needed to check that all the tenants had given rent. A rather dull part of immortality was the tedium of such things. However, he'd quite literally sold his soul to keep this castle and village alive so he would not allow it to falter. For over four hundred years he had not allowed this castle to falter despite any kind of upsets. There had always been upsets.

Politics were not exceptionally fun, but something necessary for the castle's survival. Not every member of his court was useless: many of them had served in courts and politics in life and were rather helpful assets. The issues arose in the ones he did create: the extras, the others. The creatures who'd lie about in the castle and bemoan their horrifically boring states. Those were the problematic ones.

The castle's relationship with the villagers was a very carefully balanced one, and boredom would upset the balance. They must walk the line between fear and respect else face repercussions. Von Krolock was not so vain as to think himself untouchable. He had seen his creatures perish before and knew he was just as susceptible.

There were unspoken rules between the villagers and the vampires. A sort of "you don't harm us, we don't harm you" mentality. As much as he could, Von Krolock discouraged feeding upon the villagers. If one gave blood willingly or was stupid enough to stumble upon a vampire's path, then the rule was bended. Killing or creating mindlessly was strictly forbidden. To keep the peace of this, there were always humans brought to the ball every year. Humans no one would especially miss upon whom the brood would feed. Otherwise stores of blood were kept or the creatures could find means to feed on their own. As long as they kept away from unwilling villagers, Von Krolock cared not how they fed themselves.

The villagers kept the secret of their ruler's true nature, paid their rents, and did not come snooping. As long as they kept to their own, they were given protection and a house to live in. The village very rarely received new faces: many of the same families of his childhood still occupied the place. Chagals had run the tenant house for nearly a hundred years.

Sarah. He need not be thinking about a child. She was gone for the month, regardless, which was certainly good. He'd grown... He'd grown too reckless. Idiotic.

"Paperwork. Exciting." Elisabeth sat up from the bed and stretched her long arms. Her hair was red and fell over her shoulders like a waterfall of flames. She slipped from the bed, picking up her shift and covering her bare body with it.

"You're welcome to stay if you're tired," he said absentmindedly as he dressed himself.

Elisabeth sighed, "I'm all right. I'm hungrier than anything so I suppose I'll take a trip." She touched his shoulder softly. "Good night then, your Excellency. Have fun with your papers." The woman hesitated. "And don't forget to feed yourself, Emilian. You look positively emaciated."

OOO

Nothing.

Of course there was nothing. Rebecca felt like a madwoman to have thought anything differently. There was nothing at all bizarre left behind in Sarah's room. No other toys or items that were not things given to her by family or friends. Of course there wasn't: Sarah was a good girl. Even when things had been suspicious, Sarah was still a good girl. Whatever fixation the Count had had upon her had obviously been blown out of proportion in Rebecca's mind. It was just that...the thought of Sarah becoming one of those things was far too much to bear. Too many of Rebecca's friends had met the fate.

Rebecca knew how charming those creatures could be, but she knew how inhuman they could be as well. Sarah need not be around such creatures. Sarah need not be a part of such evil. Sarah was all Rebecca had.

Rebecca and Yoine had always wanted a large family, but Sarah's birth had been too complicated to dream of having another. Sarah was all that they had and Rebecca would be damned if they lost her. Sarah would find a good husband and take over the tenant house and carry on as their family had for a century. Nothing could happen to their Sarah.

Feeling foolish for going through her daughter's things, Rebecca retired back to the tavern. Well, retired was not the best word, for it was crowded and busy as it always was and full of people demanding drinks and attention. Drunken blathering the most of it, but one particular conversation caught her ear.

"...I get to the castle and the bastard's not even there!" Prattled a man with a face red from drink. "Some ginger girl tells me he's gone out. I'm gonna be late on my rent and the bastard'll kill me for it all because he's decided to go holiday!"

Rebecca froze. You are being ridiculous, she scolded herself in a voice that sounded very much like her husband's. Surely the Count had gone absolutely anywhere that was not Constanta. He certainly did not even know Sarah was gone at all. Yes, Rebecca was most certainly paranoid. She should stop her eavesdropping and get back to work.

"What would a vampire go on holiday for?" Teased the woman who was practically on the man's lap.

"Hell if I know!" The man belched. "All I know is he's gone and when he gets back I'll be dead for my tardiness."

"To your death, then," teased the blonde girl while raising her glass.

The man laughed, "To my death!"

OOO

Constanta was very boring, Sarah had decided. Aunt Violet, it seemed, was not just a tired old lady, but a mean old dictator who decided Sarah needed to learn to be "a lady". Which meant Sarah had to wear a corset all day, which was an absolutely ridiculous ordeal because Sarah had no reason to wear corsets at all. It wasn't as though she were attending balls or going to be a princess. Though she would quite like to be a princess.

Maria had told her that once a year there was a ball at the castle. Sarah would like to go to that ball, but Maria said it was only for the people that lived in the castle. Sarah thought it a rather silly ball if no one was invited. She'd like to be invited. Would she have to wear a corset if she went? Aunt Violet said that all ladies wore corsets to every type of function, so Sarah imagined she'd have to wear one to the ball. Maybe she didn't want to go to the ball if she wouldn't be able to breathe the whole time.

Her days were filled with chores and mindless memorization. Yes, Sarah was a student and a servant all wrapped up in a nice little bow for her aunt's amusement. The routine of it all was monotonous and horrendously boring and Sarah could not wait to go home again. Part of her felt strangely homesick, but she was not sure what she was homesick for. Not her actual home, that was certain, though she missed certain aspects of it. She supposed she missed school too, for at least she got to see Maria every day at school. She missed not wearing a corset most of all.

Yet Sarah found her freedom at night. At night, Sarah could do as she pleased and her aunt was none the wiser. Aunt Violet and four dogs would fall asleep very early and all four of them snored so loudly that they never heard Sarah leave. Leave she would and walk out onto the sandy shores. It was much cooler at night so she'd wrap herself in her red blanket and step onto their private square of sand. Sarah was not scared of being on the shore alone. Even if she was, this little bit of it was there's and no one was meant to come out upon it. It had been scarier the first time, but Sarah had been in Constanta a fortnight and was not scared anymore: she was brave.

At night, she'd go out and let her toes touch in the water and she'd dream of going far, far away. Where though, she was never quite so sure.

The wind was cold so she'd tucked herself into her blanket. The air felt thicker, though she didn't quite no why. Thicker in a good way though: that tingling you get of anticipation. A feeling that comes spontaneously and seizes you whole. Sarah had always liked that feeling. She'd get it sometimes out of absolutely nowhere. Usually when she was all alone and especially at night. That feeling that something very magical was near. She was never sure just what, though.

She sang a song to herself because she liked the way it echoed on the waves. She wasn't sure of all the words, but it was one of the sad ballads she'd heard people sing in the tavern. It was about a woman who lost her lover in a shipwreck, so she walked into the sea to be with him. When she went to the water, the woman saw her lover and they sang to each other before joining each other in "the palace of the dead." It was a melancholy song, but Sarah had always liked it. Undying devotion and immortal love sounded like magic to her. There was something exciting about it that Sarah didn't quite understand yet, though she knew she would someday.

She wanted to be like the people in these stories and go on great adventures and have great love. Home was stuffy and boring and nothing like these stories. She wanted magic and mystery: not garlic and chores. Sarah wanted…Sarah wanted to be a witch or an enchantress or something wonderfully exciting. Part of her had hoped Aunt Violet was a witch, but Aunt Violet was far too boring to be any bit magical. Sarah wanted magic. Her friends thought her silly for wanting it, but she did anyway.

Sarah stood up from her spot and spread out her blanket like great red wings and ran about the cold sand. Shells were catching in her toes but she didn't care. Sarah sang the song aloud, laughing to herself and swirling in the sea wind. All alone, Sarah could be whatever she wanted. She was a nymph controlling the seas or a goddess empowering the winds. She was something magical and powerful and something so much more fun than just herself.

Then she stopped, a very keen and very distinctive feeling taking hold: Sarah was not alone.

There was someone there. Sarah heard them. Someone was singing. Just soft enough, but she did hear them. Her heart kicked in her chest and she turned but saw no one around. No, no it was for certain she had heard someone. Someone was singing. A low voice singing along to her ballad.

"Hello?" Sarah called in a much too quiet voice. Even were this person right next to her they couldn't have heard it. And there wasn't anyone right next to her. There was no one at all. Yet the notion of speaking much louder was terrifying.

She straightened, "Hello?" Louder this time and hopefully less terrified sounding. Nothing. Sarah should've expected as much. It was late and no doubt she was just tired. When given the impossible, the mind will usually grasp for some semblance of normalcy. So Sarah must just be tired or too caught in her fantasy for her own good.

"Hello."

Sarah gasped. She had heard someone. There was someone around. Of course she couldn't see them, so that was not helpful. Was it a spirit? She wondered. A ghost or some kind of angel?

It could not be...

"Hello," Sarah said again, for she could not think of anything else. This time it didn't speak. "Where are you? Why can't I see you?"

No voice, but it was not gone, she knew it. Was it the man from the song? She wondered. The man who'd drowned in the water so long ago. Sarah looked back to the ocean and wondered if that's what it was. Which was silly. Superstitious. But superstitions seemed less silly when one was all alone at night. Well, not all alone, it seemed. There no ghost singing to you in the ocean, Sarah.

She looked down. Yes, Sarah felt very clever. Maybe this spirit was invisible, but perhaps it left some sort of trace behind. Perhaps it would leave footprints. And there were footprints. Ones too large to be hers and too strong to have been there very long. I am clever, Sarah thought proudly and lunged towards the prints. The specter moved, evading her grasp, but Sarah would not lose. She did so hate to lose games.

"Wait!" Sarah squeaked as she followed the prints. It was like a game. A running game. Sarah was always the fastest at those games. Who are you? She wanted to scream. And how are you invisible? I didn't know people could be invisible.

Could vampires become invisible? Had Maria's father said that before? She thought maybe he had. But it couldn't be that this was...

She caught him! Sarah couldn't believe it, but she was definitely holding something. A sleeve. Yes, a sleeve of a shirt and her ghost did not move. Not a ghost, though, she decided. Sarah wondered if it were her angel but could not ask it for the angel didn't even know she called him that. But it couldn't be… A hand. Sarah found the specter's hand. It was cold and long and strangely bone like. She grasped it in her own though she didn't know why. It didn't feel scary.

A dog was barking. Aunt Violet was awake.

And in the next moment, Sarah was in her bed.

"What?" Sarah said aloud, sitting up and feeling her head pound like a nail. It was still night. It was still the same night and yet she was in her bed. No, no, it had not been a dream. Sarah had been on the beach. The dog was still barking. She looked and saw her blanket bundled next to her like it always was but… "No!"

She tossed her feet over and stumbled about her room. There was not a spec of sand upon her. It had been a dream. It had been a dream, but it could not have been a dream. Her brain was ringing as the dog clambered down the hallway, scratching at her door until Sarah let the damn thing in.

"What?!" She hissed as the great black beast ran to her window. It growled a low growl at the empty outdoors. "Shut up, you beast! You'll wake Aunt Violet!"

Sarah tried to push it but it was much larger than her and would not be moved.

"Fine," Sarah huffed, leaving it to its perch. "Well, I'm going to sleep, so do try to be quiet."

Back to her bed she went, but Sarah would not be able to sleep. It had not been a dream. It could not have been a dream. It was far too real to have been anything but. That hand. She'd touched that strange and cold hand. It was him, she decided. It had been her angel. Why had he run from her? It was not possible Sarah had frightened him.

She whispered, "Are you still there?"

Sarah waited for a long time, but no one answered. The dog kept growling. Sarah did not sleep.

OOO

Idiot. Idiot. Gluttonous, stupid, selfish, idiot.

He was starving: he had not known hunger like this in years. It was all consuming. It was all possessing. It made him less a man and far more a monster.

Idiot.

Why had he gone there? Some vastly selfish hope to see her and why? Why bother to see her at all? There were no ties to her. No ties but invisible ones he had created and inviable ones that were pulling his very skin apart. Idiot. He should not have spoken to her. He should not have let her touch his arm and hold his hand. There should have been no ties formed to begin with. He knew how stupid this was. He knew there was no good ending to this tale he had written.

She had been so sweet. Her starry eyes had been so wide when she took his hand in her small one. Then, like the disgusting thing he was, he wanted to… He'd been so hungry and she'd been so…

But he hadn't done it. It was the right thing but the monster hated him for it. He'd taken her away. He'd made her forget. Sarah needed to forget. It would be better if she forgot everything.

His whole body was reeling with the hunger. It was an impossible hunger.

"Sir?" Said a woman standing out front a restaurant. No doubt he looked rather suspicious, standing upon the corner and hanging in the shadows. He hadn't the energy to conceal himself. He'd been staring at the woman who was now gazing back. He had not been intentionally looking, but it seemed the woman was not bothered by it.

She flashed a smile that he could tell she'd flashed many times before. "Can I help you, sir?"

His throat was on fire.

"Yes, you can."

Von Krolock did not take another look at the woman or hear another sound from her as he tore his fangs into her flesh.