Читать книгу Possessed hearts - Анна Морион - Страница 3

I remember my birthdays when I was a child: every year I saw the same faces, ageless, beautiful, perfect. The faces of my now grown-up brothers, my parents, my cousins and cousins, and everyone else who had anything to do with the Mroczek clan. And so it was until I turned fifteen: then I urged them not to have these boring meetings. When I turned thirty-five, and the sun gave out my first wrinkles, I forbade my family even to mention that I was growing older. But, what a relief! A vampire's shell never ages or fades, but always remains dazzling.

My parents still hold the record in our society for the number of children born in marriage. Vampire families don't usually have more than two children. Like the Morgans. Gregory Morgan is the only one. Oh, and Fredrik, of course. My parents did their best to raise five children. Two sons and three daughters. And now, thanks to Mariszka, we are related to the Morgan clan, and my parents have a new fledgling to warm their hearts – a long-awaited grandson. I was aware of the fact that our mother selfishly hoped to keep Misha at home, but the clever girl showed character and fled to another's nest. Not Mroczek anymore. Misha Haraldson. Sounds good.

For some time now, my parents have been hinting to my older brother Martin that "it's time for you to get serious and think about your personal life". Fortunately, Martin has always been rich in excuses and declared that "fate will find him without his interference". Love his humour.

Vampire fate always finds us on its own. Even if we desperately hope to keep her away from us even a mile away. She can be a blessing. Oh, then the vampire is happy forever, for he loves the one who loves him. Mutuality. But in many cases, fate simply mocks, throws an immortal leech into our hearts, sucking our blood just as we drink it from a person's veins. Love is a disgusting thing.

***

– Martin! I didn't expect it! – I exclaimed happily when I saw my brother waiting for me at the exit of the terminal at Prague airport.

Martin stood leaning against the counter of a closed ticket office and looked at me with a smile. And I walked towards him with a smile. Soon we hugged, kissed, he took from me my big wheeled suitcase in which I had brought my best camera and presents for my nephew and Misha, we got into the car and went straight to the Morgan Castle. For everyone else, except Mariszka, of course, my appearance in the clan circle is already a gift. And maybe this righteous woman missed me? Eight years. I don't remember for what reason, but I missed Cedric's first two birthdays. Probably because of the anticipation of boredom.

– Where are you staying? – I asked as we briefly updated each other on the latest news of our lives. Briefly, because we regularly skype-called once or twice a month, substituting "blood" for "wine" and "killed" for "met". So when Martin would say, "Yesterday I met an Irish businessman and drank some wonderful Irish wine with him," I knew that yesterday he had killed an Irishman and drank his blood. How entertaining it was to cipher our conversations about hunting!

The last time I spoke to Martin was before the Oslo shoot, and I didn't have to listen long to hear about how he'd managed to have fun in those six days. But I did share with him my short trip to Oslo, emphasising that despite the gypsies and beggars, I had fallen in love with the city and bought a flat there. If he wants, he can use it whenever he wants. Martin grinned and said he'd think about my offer.

– Like everyone else. Mariszka and Markus have it, – he answered my question. – Misha and Fredrik are also at the castle. Everyone is here, waiting for you.

– That's nice," I said sarcastically, imagining how I'd have to hug everyone. – And your parents?

– They flew in yesterday.

– I'm not surprised.

– Brandon's at the castle, too.

A sigh of surprise escaped my chest.

– Brandon? – I asked, raising my eyebrows mockingly. – Since when did he become Mroczek?

– He's Markus's best friend," Martin shrugged.

– Yes, and he refused to be Cedric's godfather! – I reminded him.

Mariszka insisted that her son be baptised in the Catholic Church. The godmother was, of course, Misha (my name wasn't even mentioned in the discussion), and Brandon was to be the godfather. But he refused, saying that his lifestyle made him unworthy of such an honourable title.

An unworthy lifestyle. He sleeps with mortal women. So, by his reckoning, I am unworthy. Narrow-minded bastard.

– He had a reason, and frankly, I agree with his decision not to be Cedric's godfather," Martin said.

– Yes, it was his ever-serious and withdrawn Uncle Cedric! – I giggled.

But the thought of Brandon Grayson being there in the castle right now, of seeing him, filled me with nervous abandon.

Mariszka's wedding. The guests. Fun. Brandon.

– Are you okay? – I heard Martin's voice, forcing me back to reality.

I blinked, pushing away the painful memories.

– I'm always fine, Martin," I replied calmly, hiding the storm that was now ripping through my chest. – I was just thinking. So what about Brandon? Still single?

– He's in love, but he prefers to be alone. Too bad he doesn't have hunting parties on his estate anymore. Damn, that was fun.

– Wait! Wait! Is Brandon in love? – That news took me by surprise.

Who knew? He's in love! I think the ground shook with that news.

Brandon. That horrible vampire. I thought there was no room for love. He's all about cruelty and lust.

– Amazing, isn't it? – Martin gave a short laugh. – When Fredrik told me that, I didn't believe it. But Markus confirmed it. You know Brandon – he considers this feeling a weakness and prefers not to discuss the subject. Not with anyone. Not even Markus.

– Yeah, that's understandable, but who is she? – I had to find out her name. I should know her name.

But I knew for sure it wasn't me.

– And that's the big mystery. Nobody knows who the conqueror is. He never once said her name.

– There's no way nobody knows who she is! I'm sure Markus is well aware of that! – I said sarcastically.

I was annoyed: such news, but no one could tell me what kind of woman had captivated Brandon! Which vampire? There are hundreds of them! Which one of them has the bastard's heart now? And does she want it, that black, dirty heart?

– You're wrong, Markus doesn't know, that's for sure. The only thing we know is that the lady does not reciprocate him," Martin said in a serious tone.

The meaning of this phrase reached me only after a few seconds. Then I threw my head back and laughed out loud. It tore at my throat.

It was ironic. He loves her and she doesn't love him! How funny! Ridiculous! He has a leech living in his heart! Oh, how he's being punished for his love of violent games! For his "unworthy" lifestyle! What a nightmare for him to know this all-consuming feeling and not be able to reciprocate! He deserves it. He deserved it!

– How long has it been? – I asked Martin again, when the wave of laughter had subsided.

– Nobody knows that either. But he stopped playing games on the estate eight years ago. I think that's a reference point," Martin said.

– A point of reference…" I said quietly. – Who'd have thought it?

And we fell silent. I couldn't talk any more. My planet stopped moving and fell to pieces. My brain froze.

– Maybe he's in love with Mariszka and that's why he's not talking. – It just came out of my mouth.

– No. Markus asked him, and he said she wasn't from the Mroczek clan. That's all," my brother said.

I laughed again.

– What a relief, damn it! – My lips stretched into a wry smile.

– Fortunately, yes. I wouldn't want one of my sisters to be the object of his affection. He's not a bad vampire, but he's not capable of feelings. I don't think so," Martin said in a serious tone.

– Luckily," I repeated quietly.

***

The sky was covered with thick, wavy clouds. We drove up to the huge castle of the Morgans, and I wondered once again why they still lived in that stone crypt. I agree, this ancient castle is beautiful and majestic, and it envelops the mind of the beholder in some inexplicable dark mystery. Although, mortals have a right to think so: this gloomy castle is haunted by murderers. Vampires.

I loved technology. New design, discoveries, the New Age. Anything that made life easier and more interesting. Like my powerful, perfect camera, which I never let go of when I'm shooting. I've always been interested in the art of photography, but even fifty years ago, so negligible, I couldn't find a single decent camera, which disappointed me and discouraged me from wanting to pursue photography. Back then, I preferred to just have fun. But when the first digital camera came along, I took up my dream and started a career as a photographer. But becoming a famous person, a famous photographer was not easy, because even the simplest of people have a talent for photography. Mortals. So I started out as an assistant to the mortal but famous photographer David Moyes, one of the most talented photographers of the last thirty years. What can I say, I was an errand girl, but then this old fool fell in love with me and I became his muse. He wanted to shoot me as a model, but I firmly refused: I hate the thought of it. Posing. Smiling for the camera. Being someone I'm not. So I left David, with whom I had nothing but work to do, and opened a small photography studio where I shot young models who wanted a cheap but high quality portfolio. This is how I started my journey from a photographer's assistant to a renowned fashion photographer who has clients booked months in advance. I don't have any assistants. I work alone – only I know what needs to be done for this or that photo, how to realise ideas, how to process, how to put light. I don't have a team that gets mixed up under my feet. And that's my speciality. I even do my own make-up and dress the models. Unless, of course, it's an order from another rich man who wants to "make a present" to his protégée – in which case, they dress and paint as they wish. Like monkeys. I don't care.

But the Morgan Castle would be a great place for a photo shoot. I can see it: a frail model in an almost transparent dress looking like a ghost against that gloomy gothic backdrop. Should I ask Markus' permission? But who would be the model?

Misha. Yes, it's worth a try. She's so beautiful and delicate… No. It might compromise her in the future… Maybe that Japanese albino model I shot a year ago? She'll fit in perfectly with this one.

– Maria!

This loud exclamation made me distracted from what I had already seen in my imagination, and I don't like to be interrupted while creating an imaginary picture.

But it was my little sister Misha. I let her do everything. She ran towards me down the paved path, wearing white sneakers.

I smiled happily.

Misha. Frisky and energetic as usual. The skirt of her short white dress was billowing and her long golden hair, like mine, danced beautifully in the wind. She is beautiful, my little sister. She is so much better than I am. And I do not wish her to know of my sleeping with mortals. To fall in her eyes is the most unbearable thing that could happen to me.

Misha ran up to me and we squeezed each other in a long hug.

– Maria! I'm so glad! You're finally here! Why haven't you ever come? – Misha said happily, pulling away from me and grabbing my hands.

– The question is, why haven't you ever come to Toronto to see me? – I answered with a laugh, squeezing her palms in mine. – Oh, my friend, how I missed you!

– Missed you so much that you didn't even bother to come to my twenty-fifth birthday party? – Misha said in a resentful tone. – Everyone was there! Everyone but you! It's not fair of you!

– Well, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I repent. – I hugged her again, and she eagerly responded to my embrace. – You're so beautiful, Misha, I can't believe you're not nineteen anymore… You were nineteen when we last saw each other, weren't you?

– Yes, but I'll be twenty-seven soon! And you have to swear that you'll come to every birthday party.

– Okay, I swear, but don't take offence.

Misha laughed happily, grabbed my hand, and led me up the wide steps leading to the main entrance of the castle. She was almost running, and I tried to keep up with her in my high heels. I turned round to see what Martin was doing: he was taking my suitcase out of the boot of his car.

– No, Martin, put it back, I'm staying in a hotel," I told him.

– What?" Misha suddenly stopped abruptly and I bumped into her. – Why a hotel?

– Because my relationship with my parents and Mariszka is not as rosy as yours, – I explained. I lied. My parents and Mariszka had nothing to do with my desire for privacy at the hotel. They may have heard my lies now, but I just couldn't be here. I couldn't.

– But that's just…

– No, Misha, don't insist.

My harsh tone embarrassed her. And I immediately regretted it. Misha is a very easy target, fragile. She always takes things personally.

– I'm sorry. Please don't insist, okay? – I asked her in an affectionate tone of voice. – I have my reasons.

– I just thought… I haven't seen you in so long… You're going to leave so soon! – Misha mumbled, looking down at the driveway.

– Yes, I'm flying back tomorrow morning," I confirmed quietly. – But I'll definitely come to your birthday, I will!

– Right. In two and a half months! – Misha grumbled resentfully.

– Two months is nothing, you know that.

– Then you must promise to come for at least a week!

– I promise, you little extortionist.

Misha smiled broadly.

– But how are you doing? – I hurriedly turned the conversation to another topic.

– Everything is magical! We moved to Stockholm.

– I know that, Martin told me. What else?

– Nothing interesting yet. That's true.

– What about your husband?

– Oh! Fredrik got an invitation from the Royal Swedish Orchestra to play the nyckelharpa! – Misha 's eyes shone with pride.

I remember him playing that strange instrument. He's a virtuoso, you can't argue with that. But I knew Fredrik very well.

– And he refused," I said in an affirmative tone.

– Yes… But it would have been great… You know, we even had a little fight about it… – Misha grimaced.

I know how much she loves Fredrik, and that every disagreement is like a thunderclap for her.

– … but then they made up. I just want to make sure his talent isn't wasted!

– I don't think he sees it that way. – I said with a laugh.

– No, of course not… By the way, do you know who will celebrate with us? – suddenly asked Misha.

– Martin told me. Brandon? – I replied grimly.

– No… Brandon left literally five minutes ago…

– Yeah?" I interrupted my sister. – I'm sorry. Why?

– Mariszka said that Cedric and Brandon can't stand each other," Misha explained in a sad tone. – And when Cedric saw Brandon, he suddenly had something very urgent to do. Brandon ended up giving little Cedric presents and leaving. And Cedric suddenly said that his important business could be taken care of tomorrow. There.

The world was colourful again. He's gone. I won't see him. I won't be forced to smile at him and say false phrases. That's a relief. He's gone.

But I won't stay at the Morgans' all night. I'll leave the party at 12:00 and fly to Toronto at 8:06.

– And what was the reason for their mutual dislike? – I asked.

Cedric and Brandon can't stand each other. It's obvious. Since when? As I remembered, they'd had a few words at Mariszka's wedding, and they hadn't acted as detached as they did now.

– I don't know, but Markus said they've always been at odds… Come on, let's go! You've never seen Cédric, have you? Only in pictures? – Misha grabbed my hand again and we almost ran towards the front doors.

That's true. I've never seen my nephew. But Misha sent me pictures of him every month, so my laptop had about a thousand pictures of Cedric: Cedric drinking blood from a bottle, Cedric playing with Aunt Misha 's hair, Cedric sitting in his father's arms and making a grimace, Cedric running around the yard, Cedric… There didn't seem to be any activity that Cedric wasn't doing in the pictures. But I got all these pictures from Misha. And none from Mariszka. I don't care. It didn't bother me.

We hurried up the wide stone stairs to the huge main hall of the castle, and I was immediately embraced by Mscislav, my other older brother.

Misha fled to her husband.

– Ah, there you are! And did not miss me, apparently, for nine years! – said my brother with a laugh.

– I missed you, although, in truth, there was no time to be bored! – I said cheerfully, and gave him an appraising look. – Damn, I'd forgotten how handsome you are! But that bowtie doesn't suit you, take it off immediately!

– It was a present from my mum for my last birthday. If I take it off, she'll be sad and her heart will break," Mscislav whispered theatrically to me.

– 'If you don't like that bowtie, darling, just take it off. You don't have to wear it just to please me," I heard our mother's joking voice.

I cast a glance at those present: Mum was standing next to Mariszka not far from us. She caught my gaze and smiled warmly at me.

Mariszka only raised her eyebrows, as if to say, " Look who showed up!".

– Oh, thank you, Mum, but I really don't wear bow ties, – Mscislav sighed with relief and immediately pulled the stupid black butterfly off his neck. – Next time give me a scarf and I'll be extremely pleased.

– No, you buy your own scarf, and I only give bow ties! – Mum parried this witticism.

We laughed casually.

It's nice that even my parents have a sense of humour sometimes.

– Mum, you already look our age, where are you going to get any better? – I said as I approached her.

My mother was beautiful. And Mariszka was a copy of her. And so was Martin.

Me, Misha and Mscislav looked like my father.

– It's not my fault, darling. My beautiful daughter. Another one. How I love you, my girls. – Mum hugged me gustily, and I squeezed her in an answering hug.

Now that I knew she didn't disapprove of me for sleeping with men (vampires, naturally), I felt respect for her. But my mother didn't know that in addition to vampires, I also slept with mortals. Oh, she would be devastated by this news. But she would never find out. I'm very good at keeping my secrets.

– Hi Mariszka, it's good to see you too," I said sarcastically to my sister, who stood there with her palms folded on her stomach and just staring at me.

– Hi. Honestly, we were expecting you back for Cedric's first birthday, but apparently your nephew isn't as important to you as your career. Congratulations, by the way, you're a celebrity now," Mariszka told me in a calm tone.

Bloody ulcer. She knows how to hit a nerve.

I wanted to answer her with a sharp witticism about her beautiful way of greeting long-awaited guests, but the tired look of my mother, who knows that between me and Mariszka there is nothing but dislike, stopped me from this idea. So I smiled strainedly.

– It's a wonderful dress. You're very elegant, as always," I said to my sister.

Mariszka raised her eyebrows in surprise, clearly not expecting this compliment from me. After all, when we had the honour of saying a few words to each other, we used to exercise in throwing sarcasm arrows.

– Thank you. Your dress is adorable, too," she said in an even tone.

But I knew it was a lie. In fact, Mariszka was of the exact opposite opinion. Oh, yes, she was the one who was always telling me that I had frankly cheap taste in clothes. That's why my short silver dress, against her elegant dark blue, looked inexcusably bright and too short. And my ten-centimetre heels made Mariszka lift her chin to look at my face. After all, she only wore a medium heel. The elegant, imposing Mrs. Morgan.

– I'm glad you like it. After all, you're the most elegant lady in our little society for a reason. – I meant to say it in a calm tone, but there was a hint of mockery in it.

Mariszka's lips immediately pressed into a thin line, but after a second she opened her mouth, ready to give me a proper rebuff, when suddenly Misha appeared between me and her. She grabbed our hands and dragged us behind her.

– You have to see this! Let's go! Mum, you too! – joyfully exclaimed Misha, and we obediently followed her. It seems that Mariszka even forgot that she wanted to insult me once again.

And why Misha, this girl, loves Mariszka more than me? What's the reason? Why her heart is closer to this dry well-mannered cold blooded girl?

This fact caused me heartache.

– Look! Cédric is so clever! – Misha let go of our hands, and we saw a very interesting picture: Cedric was hanging on the neck of kneeling Markus and unsuccessfully chewing on his neck.

– Such a little boy, and he already knows how to hunt! – Markus told us in a satisfied tone. He was shining with happiness. I knew he was crazy about his son, so whatever Cedric did was wonderful.

– I drink your blood, you wretched mortal! – Cedric shouted pathetically.

This cute scene made me laugh: the boy is growing up to be a true hunter. I doubt he'll be as prim as his mum. Ha, he seems to be much more Morgan than Mroczek. And so much like his father: dark hair, same facial features, same undisguised love of human blood. Mariszka's gonna cry with him. And I'm glad of it.

Cedric Junior was a very sweet and funny child.

– Darling, I told you it's not nice to say such words," Mariszka's voice was immediately heard.

– Come on, Mariszka, your son is a vampire, in case you've forgotten that," I said in defence of little Cedric, who immediately broke away from his amusement and looked at me. I winked at him. – Hello, little one. I see you're ready for a real hunt already?

– Misha? – Cedric said in an unsure baby voice.

– 'No, dear, this is my other sister and your Aunt Maria,' Mariszka explained to him. – 'But Mummy doesn't like it when you play games like that, and your Daddy has apparently forgotten about it.

– Hurrah! Maria! You're here! – Cedric shouted and rushed over to me. I grabbed him in my arms, and he wrapped his thin arms around my neck. – I'm three years old! I'm a big boy!

– Of course, Cedric, you're a big boy, but it's too early for you to play games like this," Mariszka said in an affectionate tone. But she looked as if she was afraid of the fact that Cedric had even spoken to me. As if I could turn him into an exact copy of me. So I gently placed Cedric in her arms. But how unpleasant. Mariszka has a way of ruining the mood. Me.

– But, Mummy! Daddy said it was okay! – Cedric said in a resentful tone.

– Well, you've played a little, and now be a good boy, okay? – Mariszka kissed her son on the top of his head.

– I will! – Cedric hurried to get off his mother's arms, but suddenly turned to me. – Your dress is so beautiful, Maria, so shiny!

– Thank you, baby, I like it and your mum likes it too," I winked at him again, knowing that Mariszka was clearly not happy with her son's words.

Good kid. It would be a shame if Mariszka turned him into a copy of herself. I hope Markus won't let that happen.

– I like your dress too, but it's too short," Misha said to me.

– It's a little shorter than yours, just half a palm," I replied ironically. – Well, it's time to see Daddy. Where is he?

– In the other room with Fredrik and Markus's parents, – Mariszka told me. – I have to go away for a while. Have fun.

And she headed in the direction her son had run off in.

– Was that irony, or does she really think her party is a fun place to be? – I asked Misha quietly and winked at her.

Misha smiled silently and elbowed me in the side.

We went into the second great hall, called the "little drawing room" in the Morgan castle, and, as Mariszka had told us, we found Fredrik, our father, and the Morgan elders there. They were discussing something, reclining in large blue-covered armchairs. But as I remembered from the last time I'd been here, the chairs were different. Black. Impressive. Gloomy. Like the castle itself. But I immediately realised what had caused these new blue chairs – Mariszka's excellent taste. Excellent, but boring. Markus's parents had finally moved on, ceding the throne to Mariszka, and dared to infringe on the sacred – Mr. Morgan's favourite armchairs.

The first person I glanced at after looking at the chairs was Fredrik. I smiled: he was still as cold and calm as I'd always known him to be. I guess Misha and her temperament only makes him happy, because he loves solving problems so much. When did we have an affair… Was it really twelve years ago? But I remember it as vividly as if we broke up only yesterday. When Fredrik was with me, he was eager to decide everything for both of us. But I'm not Misha. I was attracted to him, but it wasn't a love that would make me a blind slave. No, I'm not saying my little sister is his slave. It's just that she's so in love with him that sometimes she lets him take over and surrender to his decisions. Like their move to Stockholm, for example. Misha confessed to me that this city frightens her a little with the number of people (though should she be frightened of them?) and that she would prefer to live in Oxford, which she loves so much despite the fact that it was there that she had her first bad experience with mortals. But Fredrik "affectionately" insisted on moving to Stockholm. The first week after their move, Misha did not speak to her husband, but then she forgot her offence. She knows how to forgive.

I don't. My heart remembers all the offences and all the insults that were committed and said to me. Sometimes I think I am heartless. But, alas, I do have a heart. But how I wish I could get rid of it, to be free from its shackles! Well, now, once again my train of thought brings me back to this…

And I rushed to my father to embrace him. He's always happy to see me. No matter what I've done. I needed to distract my mind, which had betrayed me, at the same time as my heart.

– I've been waiting for you to talk to your mother and sisters and hug your father," my father said jokingly, squeezing me in his cosy parental embrace.

– It's just that I met them first. You didn't come out to meet me, did you? Misha even ran," I said jokingly, and, pulling away from my father, turned to the Morgans. – Mr. and Mrs. Morgan! How are you? And how do you like Russia?

– 'Hello, Maria, it's good to see you,' Mrs. Morgan said to me amiably. She rose from her chair and extended her hand to me. I shook it with a smile. – We do like living in Russia, but sometimes we long to go home to Prague.

Well, you can't blame Mrs. Morgan for that: she's Czech, and the Czech Republic will always be her home. Fortunately, I am a cosmopolitan, and Poland, where I was born and spent my early years, did not evoke warm emotions in me, nor was it associated with my "home nest".

I don't know how Fredrik and Misha explained their marriage to the world, after the huge scandal that my brief affair with my younger sister's current spouse caused. Of course, at the time, he was single, single, and had no idea that Misha even existed. But surprisingly, the entire vampire community had accepted Misha and Fredrik's decision quietly. For that reason, the Morgans elders were not surprised by my appearance in the same room where Fredrik was. I had also heard rumours that the Haraldson clan had been very favourable to Misha. Especially Fredrik's parents: they were happy that their "misguided" son had come to his senses and was no longer "wasting his life".

– Well, Prague is not going anywhere. As long as it's still standing, it's as beautiful as ever," I said jokingly. – You're gorgeous, as usual. You look great too, Mr. Morgan.

– I try," Mr. Morgan said modestly. He didn't leave his chair, but he extended his hand to me, and we shook hands. – By the way, we saw one of the pictures you took… I think it was a week ago, dear? – he turned to his wife.

– Yes, yes… We don't buy glossy magazines, but when we saw your name on the cover, we rushed to buy one. And I would like to point out that this magazine is the most popular in Russia. You're doing very well, girl, and we both think you're a very talented photographer," Mrs. Morgan said immediately.

– Thank you… I'm very pleased to hear that. – I'm suddenly a little embarrassed.

What? Maria Mroczek? Confused? I think the last time I felt that kind of embarrassment was in my twenties. But the Morgans' praise was something sublime: what an honour to hear them say it, old-fashioned vampires who still preferred castles to the more comfortable new modern villas!

– But still, please be careful: every year we find it more and more difficult to hide our existence, you know that. I'm afraid that world fame…" my father began in a concerned tone, but I interrupted him:

– I have everything under control, Dad, please don't worry. I know when to stop and go into the shadows.

– Yes. I don't doubt you, Maria. You are a wise woman, almost like your mother," her father replied with a smile.

– I prefer to think of myself as a girl, Papa! – I said with a laugh. – I am too young to be a "wise woman"!

Everyone laughed. Except Fredrik, of course," he smiled, as if to confirm my words. He knows me. Maybe even better than I know myself.

– Hello, brother-in-law," I threw to him, for some reason not wanting to communicate with him at the moment.

Fredrik seemed to feel the same way, for he didn't even give me a hand.

– Hi, Maria," he said in an indifferent tone. – How are you?

– My life brings me nothing but joy," I replied ironically.

A lie. Disgusting. Black.

My life was beautiful. But it all fell apart in an instant. But no one must know about it. It's up to me to forget what torments me so much. How can I do that?

– I'm glad," Fredrik replied briefly.

He is lying too. After all, he doesn't care, not at all.

– But where is Cedric? I want to say a word of greeting to him," I said hastily.

– He's in his room. He said he was tired of the crowd and needed a breath of solitude," Mrs. Morgan answered me. Her eyes flashed strangely, and a bitter smile flickered across her lips for a moment.

– I hope he doesn't mind my disturbing him," I said quietly, thinking that Mrs. Morgan's sudden transformation was due to the very disagreement that had forced Cedric to leave the castle. But that's their family and their problem.

– I don't think he minds… Cedric has been sitting there for three hours. Tell him we're waiting for him," Mr. Morgan said suddenly. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

– Gregory…," his wife said quietly.

– It's all right. Don't take it personally: he never liked to be among the guests," Mr. Morgan said quietly.

– I'll get him. I'll see you later! – I said cheerfully and headed to the other end of the castle, where Cedric's room was.

The sound of my heels echoed off the high stone ceilings, making it even louder and more intense. Every step I took was another second-a second of my lost life. But the Morgans' behaviour made me wonder: what had driven Cedric so far away from his parents? They had always been a very close-knit family… So strange. It's useless to ask Mariszka – that prude is always as silent as a fish. But I'm sure she knows. Maybe she'll tell Misha and she'll tell me. Although, it's been eight years, but this mystery has remained a mystery.

I walked to the solid wooden door leading to Cedric's room and opened it without knocking.

– You never knock on other people's doors," I heard Cedric's handsome voice. He was standing at the window, his back to me. He was probably thinking about something, and my visit had disturbed his loneliness. The loneliness he loves so much. Strange Cedric.

– We're related, which means we don't have to observe these ceremonies! – I said cheerfully and glanced round his room.

It was huge. Dark. Sullen. How fitting for this hermit. Books, a fireplace, an ascetic atmosphere, and minimal furniture. Heavy black curtains on the windows, this time opened wide. The dim light of the gloomy Prague day seemed to embrace Cedric's tall, handsome figure. Black shoes, black jeans. Black jacket. I'm sure: black shirt and black tie.

– Are you in mourning? – I joked, walking slowly toward Cedric.

– You're so clever," he said without turning round.

I didn't think his joke was funny at all, but I decided to keep playing the game.

– Who?

He didn't say anything.

I walked over to him and looked at his face with a grin.

Cedric didn't seem to notice me; he remained silent, staring out the window.

– Your mother is very upset about your absence," I said, not uncomfortable with his coldness toward me.

He said nothing.

– Cedric, this is getting annoying! – I said in an annoyed tone and slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

I think my gesture made him a little angry, because his eyes on me were angry. Frowning eyebrows, stern face, scowl. He's so handsome, this vampire, this hermit. And he's still alone. He's not in love with anyone. He's free. But at the same time, it's like he's disconnected from everything that has to do with feelings. Just coldness.

– I didn't call you, Maria, and I don't intend to entertain you," Cedric said in a quiet but simply icy tone.

He'd never felt any friendly feelings for me. Nor have I for him. I was just trying to play a little game, but I realised that this time I'd hit an impenetrable rock.

– I don't need to be entertained. I always find my own entertainment," I smiled sweetly.

– Doing inappropriate things with mortals?

My breath caught in my throat. How did he know?

– Calm down. It's your business. – Cedric grinned, as if he could see the horror of losing my innermost secret on my face. And so close to my parents' ears.

– Where did you…" I whispered, taking a step away from him.

I realised now that playing with him had been a bad idea. He was stinging my soul with his words, the way a wasp stings soft human flesh.

– You're careless. Markus saw you.

– M-Markus?

The news made me feel creepy.

My brother-in-law has seen me. With a mortal. He could have told Mariszka. And she would surely rush to share this "magical" news with our parents. Oh, no. No!

– But he only told me. So your secret is safe," Cedric said quietly, as if to comfort me.

– Yes, you can keep a secret like no one else," I whispered with a smile. – But you can't judge me.

– You're right. And I don't judge you. – Cedric turned his face away from me and stared out the window again. And I realised that was the end of our conversation.

– Your mum's upset, Cedric. You have to come with me. – I headed for the door, not bothering to persuade him.

– They're not bored, believe me. – I heard a cold reply.

– As you wish. – I grinned sarcastically and left the room.

Walking back to the hall, I felt awful. Horribly dirty.

Why is Cedric Morgan always so honourable? Cold. Always so… Clean? Has he never done anything reprehensible? Not once in his life? In almost three centuries? It's hard to believe, but it seems to be true. And that's why his moral purity embarrassed me. It depressed me. Next to him, I felt covered in fresh, horrible-smelling dirt that soaked into my skin that I could never wash off.

"What's all this sniffling, Maria?" – I said to myself to get rid of this oppression.

I was used to spitting on everything and everyone. But sometimes my reason failed me, and then the feeling of disgust at my dirty soul haunted me, tormented me. And at that moment it seemed to me that, even just being near Misha, I was committing a blasphemy.

As I walked into the hall I'd left only three minutes ago, I forced myself to square my shoulders again, lift my head proudly, and walk up to the Morgan seniors with a smile. Hell, I promised them I'd get back with Cedric. Oh, well. I tried.

– I'm not surprised. Don't take it personally, sweetheart,' Lady Morgan told me with a smile.

But I could see the cruel disappointment on her beautiful face when she saw me. Without Cedric.

– Oh, not at all, Mrs. Morgan. At least I've breathed the air of seclusion," I said in a calm tone, sitting down in the chair next to me, which was now vacant. Mr. Morgan's away somewhere. – Besides, your son looked so peaceful, I didn't want to take him away from his euphoria.

– Peaceful? Cedric? – Mrs. Morgan questioned quietly, incredulity in her voice.

– That's what it seemed to me. – I shrugged and put my foot on my leg. – Misha told me that you're planning to look for a new place to live next year?

– Yes, but we're not sure if we want to move. But I'm leaning towards Iceland. Quiet, peaceful place. Not much in the way of hunting, but we're willing to put up with the inconvenience.

– You should live in Toronto. Believe me, it's paradise," I suggested. But, remembering that I might be seen with mortal lovers, I added. – You're right, though: Iceland is the place to be. Beautiful scenery for filming. I'm thinking of hiring an Icelandic woman as a model… It should be very interesting.

– I'm sure it would," Lady Morgan said with a smile. – I think we'll be seeing those pictures in the best glossy magazines again soon.

– Glossy is not the way… I prefer aesthetics. Maybe in the near future. – I stroked my chin thoughtfully with my fingers, already imagining my own exhibition in the best galleries in the world. But alas, in the present, I'm stuck on the glossy step. But it won't be for long. I promise. It's time to improve my skills and channel them into something truly worthy of a photographer, like reportage photography. Hmm, I'll do that right after I shoot that strangely beautiful Icelandic woman whose hair and eyebrows are so white they made even me marvel. I'll surround her with cold landscapes and icy beauty to emphasise her own. Most importantly, she's not a model at all, just a nurse in the hospital of her tiny village in the west of the island. She'll be the best thing I've ever done. And then I'm going to kill her. Her blood intrigues me. The wind of Iceland seems to be playing in her veins…

– Maria?

I woke up to hear Markus's rather loud voice calling me.

– Yes?" I asked with a smile, not looking at him.

He knew my secret. He had seen me. He could tell Mariszka.

I should ask him. I have to. Tonight. To find out how far the truth about my shitty life has spread.

– I'm going to the airport. Would you like to keep me company? – Markus asked.

I looked up at him in surprise.

He looked at me calmly.

"Obviously, he wants to talk to me about the same thing I want to talk to him about," I thought. There was a reason he'd asked me to ride with him to the airport.

– Yeah, I'd love to. – I got up from my chair. – But I hope we can make it before the gift-giving.

– Of course we will. My son wouldn't forgive me if I missed this momentous occasion. – Markus turned to his mother. – Tell Mariszka we'll be there in half an hour.

– Please don't be late," Mrs. Morgan said meekly.

Markus and I went down to the castle's huge garage. Silently. I waited for Markus to ask me the question, but he didn't say anything. It was only when we approached one of the cars, a luxurious black Jaguar, that Markus looked at me and smiled.

– What did Cedric say? – He asked, out of the blue.

Unexpected, because I was expecting a different question: "So you sleep with mortals?"

That deceived expectation, which I admit was only a relief, made me smile widely.

– You know your brother. He said he wanted to be alone," I said, sitting down in the car next to Markus, who was driving. – I wasn't surprised, though, and everyone should stop being surprised.

– I stopped doing that a long time ago. Cedric can't be changed, that's just the way he is. – Markus started the car engine and we drove slowly out of the garage into the dim light of day.

– And yet I'm surprised at how different you two are," I grinned. – Born into the same family, with only a tiny age difference.

– Yeah, just like you and Mariszka.

The phrase, which Markus said in a rather joking tone, made me fix my eyes on his face. It was like foreplay leading up to an inquisition.

But I wouldn't be myself if I let anyone throw it in my face like a dirty towel washing away my protective mask.

– You mean the fact that I sleep with mortals? – I asked bluntly, but with irony in my voice.

– No, I merely noticed that you and my wife quietly hate each other. – Markus smiled. – And don't worry about your sex life. I'm not interested.

– Cedric knows," I said quietly. – You told him.

– Yes. But only to him.

– Why?

– What?

– Why didn't you tell Mariszka? – That question really surprised me.

– I don't think she'd take it as well as Cedric.

– But why did you tell him? – I asked. I was irritated. – It's none of your business!

– Don't be nervous. Cedric wasn't even surprised. I was surprised to see you with that bartender in Toronto. – Markus's tone was so calm that I was suddenly ashamed of my temper. But I wasn't going to apologise: Markus really had no right to reveal what he'd seen. Not even to his brother. He didn't!

– I'm not nervous. It's just my own business, don't you think? – I responded to Markus's retort with the same calmness.

– I do. But you have to admit, it wasn't a pleasant discovery.

– I don't care.

– Neither do I.

– Well, that's perfect.

– You're being ironic. – Markus looked at me. – 'But I don't want Mariszka or my and your parents to find out about this. Please be more discreet.

– I wonder if you are lecturing your friend Brandon on this. – The irony never left my voice.

– He doesn't need them. He doesn't care what anyone else thinks.

– That's where we're alike.

– No. You love your family too much to do it out in the open like Brandon does. Frankly, I don't know why he's suddenly gone off the rails.

– Yeah, he used to be nothing but annihilating to mortals. – I shrugged. – But now his life seems to revolve around the skirts of mortals.

– I don't think so. Brandon… It's hard to understand his nature.

– Have you tried asking him the reasons for this sudden change?

Markus suddenly laughed briefly.

– Of course I have! – He answered my question and stopped talking.

– Do I have to get every word out of you? – I said jokingly and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. – What did he say?

– The same as you did.

– That it's none of your business?

– Yes.

There was silence. We drove in silence on the wide, flat road.

It's weird. Brandon and Markus were best friends. For years. Decades. Centuries. And suddenly this Englishman declares to Markus that taking an interest in his best friend's life is "none of his business"? What's happened to him? No-one can change so suddenly. 180 degrees.

But Brandon wasn't a doormat like the rest of the vampires. He didn't hide his passion for mortals from others. I do. He didn't. And that's what I admired about him. That openness. This insane disregard for others, their beliefs, their views. Our beliefs. I hope I'll be like that. One day.

– He is weirdo! – I said quietly, and then I stared at Markus's face again. – The woman he's in love with. Do you know her? Who is she?

– You won't believe this, but I have no idea. – Markus sighed heavily. For a moment his face became very serious. – I wish I knew…

– What the hell is going on with that bastard? – The mystery surrounding Brandon Grayson tugged at me like a Siren. Why would I want to know? What do I care?

Let it go, Maria. Let it go now.

– I'm not sure what I'm guessing, but I'm getting the idea that Brandon isn't in love with sex with mortals, but with his power over them," Markus suddenly changed the subject.

– Well, that sounds like the Brandon I know," I chuckled. – Still, I'd like to know which one of us was unlucky enough to be the object of his lust. No, wait… The object of his affection. Ha ha! That sounds so ridiculous, knowing we're talking about him!

I wanted it so badly. To the point of a mind spasm.

– He's not as bad as he seems," Markus said in a cool tone, as if defending his best friend's honour.

– I'm not saying he's bad. I'm saying it's hard to believe this amazing event. He's fallen in love! Ha! – I parried.

But I wasn't actually amused. I was sorry.

– Okay, let's leave the poor guy alone, okay? – Markus asked in a strained tone, turning his car sharply to the right. It was only now that I noticed that we were making our way through a dense line of cars, as if frozen in a traffic jam.

– Shit… Where do all these idiots go? – Markus cursed softly as he pulled up behind a large white SUV. – Stop honking, donkeys, it won't help!

But his words were said in vain: the other drivers, the mortals, honked as often and loudly as if they hoped to clear the traffic jam with their incredible inappropriate noise. Hoping that the traffic jam would dissipate on its own if they pressed the signal button every fraction of a second.

Idiots. The most appropriate word for such mortals.

– So are we going to the airport? – I asked only now.

– Yes, to Václav Havel," I replied, looking in the rear-view mirror as if searching for ways to escape from the chaos surrounding us.

– And what did you forget there? – I wondered.

– Not what, but who. Brandon.

I sighed unhappily. I did not, did not want to see that vampire! Ever!

– Are you bringing him to the castle? – I asked, hoping for a no.

– No. It's just that he's gone and left his iPad at the castle.

– Are you saying we're going to Vaclav Havel just because of that little thing?

– For him, losing his iPad is not nothing.

– Oh, yeah, I forgot. He's a famous philanthropist and businessman. – I let out a chuckle.

Brandon Grayson. Philanthropist. Hypocrite.

– Exactly. There he was! – Markus nodded towards the airport exit.

Damn it! Why did I waste all that time interrogating Markus? I should have jumped out of the car and run!

– You know what, I think I'm gonna make my way to the nearest shopping centre. I just remembered I forgot to bring my favourite perfume. – And without waiting for a reply or Markus' surprised remark, I hurriedly left the car and walked away along the narrow line between the rows of colourful cars.

To buy perfume. What an abominable reason. But I couldn't think of anything else. I had to escape, and I did.

– Pick you up? – I suddenly heard Markus' voice.

– Yes, I suppose so. I'll be at the Palladium," I replied. My heels clicked against the pavement. – You'll find me there.

– Great, I hope you won't get lost in the ocean of perfume bottles… Hi, it's good to see you again," I heard my brother-in-law's voice again.

– It's good to see you again. Thanks for coming. – It was Brandon Grayson's voice. It was beautiful. Low. Sexy.

Beyond my will, I turned around. My body betrayed me.

Brandon was standing outside Markus's car, leaning slightly against the window. A smile played on his lips. A charming one. Like himself. Black suit. Black leather gloves. Black sunglasses. Elegance in the flesh.

I stared at him without breathing.

Bastard. Hypocrite. I hated him.

Turning sharply, I continued on my way, desperately hoping he wouldn't notice my unspoken presence.

He didn't.

Quite quickly I reached the shopping centre and wrapped myself in the first perfume shop, bought a bottle of my favourite perfume, found a lonely table in a small but cosy café, ordered a cup of expensive coffee for the sake of appearances, and sank into my thoughts. It was a miracle I'd managed to bring my purse with my credit cards.

I was woozy to the core. Why the hell had I flown here? Hadn't seen my parents, my brothers and sisters? Did I want to meet my nephew? Finally get to spend some time with Misha? What am I doing here? Sitting in this stupid cafe, hiding like a rat. From who? Who is the person I'm hiding from like a lowlife?

It's me.

I'm the one sitting here amongst the clamouring, foul-smelling, death-smelling people. This is me sitting here in my short holiday dress. This is me all alone. Without a phone. Without common sense. Me and my thoughts.

But what is this unseemly behaviour, Maria? Squaring your shoulders. It's just one day. One bloody endless day, and you'll live it like you've lived decades and centuries before. Wars. Catastrophes. One day, Maria, and you'll be free.

– I'm here.

I flinched.

Markus's voice came over the hum of thousands of voices, saving me from spiritual suicide.

– I'm coming," I said, barely audibly, and left the café. – Where are you?

– In the car park.

– You two had a quick chat," I said quietly, walking toward the escalator leading to the underground three-level car park.

– He was in a hurry. He had a meeting in London.

– The ever-busy benefactor. Mortals just have to kiss his shoes.

– Leave it. I don't see why you don't like him. – Markus asked with a laugh.

– Why should I like him? – I grinned in turn.

– You don't, but as far as I know, you've never liked him.

– Wrong. I'm just indifferent to the fact that he exists.

I found Markus's car and sat in the back seat.

Markus grinned and started the engine.

– Put your seatbelt on, please, I don't want to get fined," he said.

I complied silently and kept my eyes on my dark red perfume bottle all the way to the castle. I had no desire to talk.

Luckily, Markus seemed to realise this, because he didn't say a word the whole way. Maybe he'd guessed the real reason I'd run away. I was so insistent on asking him about that damn Grayson…

Where's your mind, Maria? You're acting like a crazy idiot. Don't talk. Always be quiet and be happy. The smile must never leave your lips. You're free. You are beautiful. People's lives are your domain. You are Death's reaper. You are Death's helper. And you will not stoop to what Life insists you do.

***

Half an hour after we got back to the castle, it was time to open the presents, and I have to say, little Cedric was very professional and quick to unwrap the pile of boxes he'd been given. It seems that this little vampire is the happiest kid in the world. He has everything a three year old intelligent person's brain could wish for and think of. My present – a small, but incredibly high quality and fast toy helicopter – was also to Cedric's liking, so from the moment of their acquaintance, the couple never parted for a moment: the helicopter flew around the castle, and Cedric ran after it with a remote control. The baby was just shining with happiness. Well, I was extremely pleased with myself, because his mother's gift – a collection of colourful books with Polish fairy tales – was forgotten the moment he unwrapped the box and almost instantly threw it back to the mountain of already opened presents. I will never forget that keen sense of satisfaction when Mariszka's face was covered with undisguised disappointment at the sight of what fate had befallen her "lovingly chosen" gift. Our parents had given their grandson a black as tar Arabian horse, which, according to their assurances, was waiting for a small but proud owner in the country cottage of Mariszka and Markus. Of course, Mariszka immediately expressed her doubts that "giving a child an adult horse is dangerous, why not a pony?", which made everyone present, including her husband, roll their eyes. Misha and Fredrik presented their nephew with a synthesiser, expressing the hope that they would soon hear his own compositions. Expensive, pompous gifts. And only Cedric did something blatantly magical – he gave his nephew a ball and a promise to play football with him whenever the kid wanted to, and if Cedric senior was within reach (I think he didn't mean departures, but unwillingness to come out of his melancholy and lonely voluntary imprisonment in his gloomy world).

To summarise: the holiday was a success.

But soon, thankfully, it was time to part. When saying goodbye, I gave my sweet Misha a beautiful expensive dress, which I ordered in the best atelier in Toronto, according to my sketch. Misha was ecstatic, rushed to hug me and reminded me once again of my promise to come to every one of her birthdays.

"Oh, Misha, you're just taking advantage of my love!" – went through my head. But her happy eyes immediately killed any hope of excuses in me.

– And remember that you can always come to us, at any time of the year and day! – Misha chirped, not letting me out of her arms. – You're always welcome!

I suppressed a laugh. Oh, yes, Fredrik, indeed. Naive little sister.

– Maybe we'll fly to Toronto to see you! – Misha suddenly exclaimed.

I pulled away and smiled impotently: no, that's all I needed!

– I don't think it's a good idea… I won't have free time to entertain you, you know? I work twenty-four hours a day…" I whispered, not knowing how to lie more convincingly.

At the thought that Misha would inadvertently encounter one of my mortal "suitors" waiting for me at home and at work, I was horrified. Misha can't know. It would be… The end. The end of me. The end of her love for me. The end of me. No.

– It's no big deal! Even a couple of hours a day will be enough for me! After all, Fredrik will fly with me!

Fredrik covered a mocking smile with his palm.

– Misha… – I grabbed her palms and looked into her eyes. – You don't have to fly to me. I'll fly to you myself. Honestly. For a week. Just you and me. Deal?

– That's a great idea, Maria. If you came in December, when I was away visiting my parents, that would be the perfect visit," Fredrik said. There was irony in his voice, but Misha didn't seem to notice it, because she immediately agreed with him.

I don't know why, but my little sister didn't want to notice that her husband and I preferred not to see each other. That's a good damn thing, because if we make her choose the company of only one of us, she'll choose Fredrik. She loves him. I can't lose her. Luckily Fredrik knew that, knew how much I loved Misha. And he tolerated it, gallantly agreeing to leave his wife for a whole week, because I knew perfectly well that the visit to my parents was a lie.

So I left Prague, bound by promises and a wonderful sense of freedom.

The day had exhausted me. So many emotions. Too much for one day.

After arriving in Toronto and throwing my suitcase into my flat, I hurried to the nearest nightclub. In the morning, I threw another mortal heart out the door.