The Letter

Don't Come Around Here No More

The trunk closed with a clink. Mr. Paisley rounded the 1972 Pomegranate Red Volkswagen to assist his wife. Having a mild case of arthritis in her right knee, she had a bit of difficulty lifting her leg to sit comfortably on the passenger seat. 

Watching in silence, Beth stood at the door with Raven beside her, offering emotional support.

His wife settled and her seatbelt fastened, the man, his bearded face subdued, stalked back around to the driver's side, sat down, and shut the door after him. 

"Have a safe trip," Beth spoke, her voice breaking.

From her moist eyes, Raven could see that the decision, though necessary, hurt Beth to make.

Turning away, her mother stared out the window while her father waved goodbye. Honking the horn, he backed out the driveway and drove away. 

Only when the vehicle was out of her sight did Beth surrender to her emotions, collapsing in tears.

A purpose in each step he took, Viggo entered the museum, his shoes clomping on the wood tiling. 

A lot of fanfare had accompanied its unveiling over a decade ago. Now, he wanted to see it for himself, the portrait, Beauty Mysterium. To the public, it's a portrait of a beautiful woman, often compared with The Mona Lisa or Girl with a Pearl Earring. However, to the vampire colony, it is a depiction of the vampire queen herself, Sage Nayah.

The painting made international news when stolen then suddenly returned under mysterious circumstances. To this day, the mystery of how that came about is still unsolved.

Viggo knew who could have stolen it. Pedro. He spoke of the queen often to the point of obsession. He was most likely the main culprit of its theft.

From the hushed whisperings and gasps of awe, he knew he was close. 

In the center of the square room, encased in glass and kept on twenty-four-hour surveillance, there it was. His jaw dropped. Dressed in black and gold royal attire with an emerald and gold headdress, the queen was strikingly beautiful, to where it was hard to breathe.

What also struck Viggo was how lifelike and detailed the painting was down to her pores and the creases on her lips—like a photograph. Her eyes, a deep pool of ebony, seemed to follow his every movement. It was unnerving.

"It's beautiful. Isn't it?" A young voice said beside him. 

Viggo turned his head. A girl, somewhere between the ages of twelve or thirteen, wearing a long-sleeve ivory shirt and a plaid pinafore with a nose piercing, stared at him, smiling. She tossed her medium-length blond curly hair from off her shoulder.

"It is," Viggo replied. Something about the girl sparked his curiosity. Her brown eyes shimmered with playfulness and warmth. 

There was something else—something only a vampire would detect. He had heard of Dhampir's in folklore but had never seen one in person. Though he told Raven that she was a Dhampir, it wasn't the true definition of one.

"I'm Nayah West," she said, extending her hand. He shook her hand. Her grip was iron tight. He motioned to the signature in the painting's corner. "Any relation to Cristian West?" 

"He's my dad," the girl smiled, releasing her grip.

Her phone rang to the tune of an Ariana Grande song. "Gotta go," she said, glancing at the lock screen. "My boyfriend is waiting for me." "Okay," Viggo chuckled, amused. 

He watched her prance out of the room, thinking the encounter odd.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Raven said.