Charlie tried very hard to focus on her story. Looking for mistakes, thinking if there were some events she should re-write or delete, but her mind just kept coming back to her argument with Vaggie. Now Charlie understood that Vaggie meant well and that she was only trying to look out for her but what upset Charlie was that Vaggie always seemed to undermine her judgement. Always thinking that Charlie had the mind of a child and that she was too naive to recognize danger. It reminded her so much of her father.

Charlie's father would almost say and do the exact same things. Expect the worst in others immediately and assume that Charlie didn't know what she was doing. It was so frustrating. Why couldn't Vaggie and her father just trust her?

Then she heard the door to the library creak open and the sound of footsteps on the floor followed after. Charlie remained seated with her back turned.

"Go away Vaggie." She said assuming it was her friend come to lecture her again. "I don't want to keep talking about this. I have far more important things to do then cater to your paranoia."

"I do hate to disappoint you my dear, but my name is not Vaggie."

She stood up quickly from the desk when she heard the masculine voice reply. She turned around and found that the person she had addressed wasn't Vaggie at all. It was Alastor.

"Oh Alastor I am so sorry." She said. "I thought you were someone else."

"I should certainly hope so. Otherwise I must have offended you very much." He chuckled. "I do apologize if I am intruding on your hard work. I was looking for Rosie but she is not here so I shall be on my way."

"Oh no you don't have to leave. She'll be back here in just a moment."

"Well in that case I'll just simply wait and converse with you. If you don't mind that is."

"Not at all. What did you want to talk to Rosie about? If it's not private or personal that is."

"It's not. I was merely going to remind her to take a few breaks between writing and editing otherwise she'll give herself another splitting headache. That's a common thing to happen to writers."

"It's very sweet how considerate you are to her."

"Well she is family after all. Actually she's the only biological family I have left. Everyone else in my bloodline is tragically long gone."

"You mean you really don't have anyone else? Your parents?"

"They, like Rosie's, died much too soon. I was only twelve when they passed."

"Oh I'm so sorry." Her voice full of sympathy and kindness. "May I ask, who looked after you?"

"No one. I was on my own after that. I mean, Vox's father would look out for me sometimes due to being a friend of the family but I mostly had to rely on myself from then on."

"You didn't have any aunts or uncles? You and Rosie are cousins."

"We're distant cousins. My great, great, great grandfather Jameson Nightshade and her great, great, great, grandmother Eloise Gardner nee Nightshade were brother and sister, though they were never close."

"How come?"

"Jameson Nightshade was born into a family that was so dirt poor that they couldn't even afford to keep livestock. So when his sister was born his parents decided that they didn't need another mouth to feed and he was sent away to live on his own, even though he was still just a boy at the time."

"How terrible."

"Yes but that's what some poor families would do back then. If they found it too difficult and too expensive to raise more than one child then they would typically abandon the older children in hopes that they had matured enough to make it out on their own."

"How did he do out there?"

"He found work as a fisherman. It didn't pay much but it kept food on the table and he began saving up his money to build his own ship so he could go sailing and run his own fishing business. By the time he reached adulthood he had saved enough to buy all the materials he needed but then love stepped into the picture."

"Love?"

"Her name was Daisy Lee Rey, she was a slave of the Magne cotton plantation and she met Jameson when he was delivering a shipment of fish to her master. Throughout the many deliveries he made, they shared many conversations which led to them falling in love. He bought her freedom with his life savings so they could marry. It was a great sacrifice but he had no regrets."

"That's so romantic." Charlie swooned. "Did they ever have children?"

"Only one son. My great, great, grandfather Alastor Nightshade, for whom I was named after."

"Did Jameson ever see his parents or sister again?"

"No. In fact Eloise was never told she even had a brother until long after he had passed, and their paths most likely never crossed because she had eloped with a gypsy medicine man."

"Wow. Your family has a lot of interesting stories."

"Speaking of which, how are you and Rosie fairing on your story?"

"She says it's really good and she believes that if I keep trying, my book will be published someday."

"You better listen to her on that. Trust me, she knows a good book when she reads it."

"But I don't think my story will ever be as good as hers. Of Forbidden Love and Freedom is just so incredible and beautifully written. It's my favorite book ever. What's yours?"

"Well I can't say that I have only one favorite. I have many. Among them is Mary Shelly's Frankenstein and I find it particularly fascinating because the so-called monster in that story isn't just some rampaging brute, he's a man-made soul who desperately searches for a purpose in life but because he was abandoned by his creator he's confused. Frightened. Angry. Not sure what else to do except lash out."

"I think the best stories are the ones that give depth to all the main characters." Charlie said. "Because in real life people aren't one dimensional. They're very complex and there's always so much more to them than what you see."

"Yes there is." Alastor agreed. "And I find those who can take the time to learn about those complexities, special. You're a very special woman Charlotte. Probably more special than you give yourself credit for."

"You hardly know me." She inquired with a giggle. "You don't really know for sure that I'm anything special. You're just being a gentleman."

"A true gentleman never gives false complements. Especially to a lady." He grinned. "And true we've only met yesterday but I think I already know a great deal about you."

"Oh really? What is it you think you know about me?"

She thought this whole thing was just a joke or quite possibly playful banter. Nothing serious.

"You have a tender heart." He spoke. "So tender that you can't bear to see anyone suffer. This gives you the desire to show everyone compassion and understanding. To try so hard to lift their spirits and bring them joy, because the sight of anyone feeling pain or sorrow wounds you deeper than any knife possibly could."

She looked up at him astonished by the accuracy of his words.

"One of the reasons writing is your passion is because you can control what happens in the world of your stories. You can make it a world of justice, where love and kindness overcomes all which differs from the real world. It's a release from how cruel reality can be."

He advanced to her. She didn't move away.

"But writing isn't your only passion my dear. Music is another element that you cherish deeply. You very much love to hear it, to dance to it, and to sing to it. You have the purest and sweetest singing voice but you're quite shy about it."

The way he looked into her eyes, it made her feel as if he was gazing into her soul. Reading her entire being, knowing instantly what was in her heart.

"You're shy about all your wonderful talents because you struggle to see your worth. You also struggle with being completely honest with the people in your life about what troubles you because you don't want to seem like a burden to them."

How could he know so much about her after meeting her so soon? It was so strange. But even stranger was that, something like this should frighten her but it didn't. It intrigued her.

"And there's a hint of irony to yourself."

"Irony?"

"You have such a loving heart and you give love freely, but you've never really been in love have you? You are a very independent woman and your content to have just your friends and family but you can't help yearning to know what it's like to fall in love and have that love returned. To find the one person who will treasure you above everything else in the world and make you feel that you're never truly alone."

She was almost enchanted. Enchanted by his voice, by his eyes, and by his face. She suddenly had the oddest feeling that she had seen his face and heard his voice many times before. That this wasn't the first time they had ever conversed like this. That he knew her and that she knew him.

"Are you..." Her mouth could barely shape what she wanted to say. "Are you a writer? Because you speak so..."

She couldn't speak anymore. He was so close. Too close for someone who had only known her for a day and a half, but for some reason Charlie wasn't discomforted by this.

"Pardonne-moi."

The moment was interrupted by Mimzy stepping into the library.

"I do hope I am not intruding but I believe Husk is looking for you sir." She said. "Something amiss with the front gate."

"I see. I'll speak to him about it then." Alastor composed himself very quickly. "Charlotte, could you do me a favor and remind my cousin not to push her mind too hard?"

"Of course." Charlie answered.

"Thank you."

He gave her one last smile before exiting with Mimzy.

Charlie needed a moment to regain her thoughts