Dimitrescu's Daughter (Completed)

Chapter Five: A Bird in the Hand

Footsteps sound behind me but when I turn there's no one there. They continue past me and fade down the hall.

"Now I know I'm hearing things, I can't be not seeing things," I sigh.

Continuing through the house I hear more footsteps with no one to make them along with a strange buzzing I chalk up as white noise in the back of my mind. I've begun hearing all sorts of odd things. Or perhaps this is all just a dream. Time will tell.

"I don't care if you like it or not."

A familiar voice chills me to the bone. The darkness in my chest is pulled towards the sound of her voice.

"You may be a doctor but I am something of an expert in blood myself, specifically the drawing of it. I am telling you once a day is too much," Dimitrescu tries her best but her words come out bitter and with a slight growl.

The two are sitting by the hearth in the den in the middle of the castle. It's not really obvious how all the furniture is tailored to fit the lady of the castle until a normal person tries to sit in it. I myself have to climb into some chairs.

Mother Miranda has opted to stand at the end of the couch. Her face never seems to change unless she's revealing that unsettling smile of hers. Now more than ever she seems unamused.

"The girl heals. Regenerates, in fact. So as long as you keep feeding her the supplements I gave you then she'll be fine. Everyone reacts to the cadou differently."

Cadou, cadou. In my mind I know what that means but the shock and horror is making that difficult.

"I don't repeat myself. The answer is no. Once a week, at the worst," Dimitrescu says, standing to use her imposing height. Miranda couldn't be less intimidated.

Miranda's eyes narrow slightly, "Do you want to see your daughters again or would you rather keep your new toy?"

My heart stops dead in my chest.

All my life and only mother Miranda can instill such a fear in me that I can't move. This from someone whose stared down the nose of venomous snakes more than once and been dropped into a tomb by mistake. Even then I could move. I fought. I literally grabbed a cobra by the head. But this, this is worse.

Despite my probing and prodding Dimitrescu has said very little about her daughters. Every time I manage to pry enough context to infer a bit about them she's nearly in tears. But, like a lady she swallows her feelings puts on a mask and pretends she's fine. Usually this is accompanied by cupping my cheek or brushing my hair.

"What will it be Alcina? Your three daughters or the bedraggled, heartless foreigner?"

Whether or not she meant heartless as uncaring or in a more literal sense I haven't space in my conscience to worry. My mind is still processing my very compromised trust in my new mother.

Dimitrescu shifts from one side and takes a long drag off of her cigarette. For a moment it looks like she might blow it in Miranda's face. The smoke misses her by a few inches instead.

"I'm keeping Iulia."

Finally, finally Miranda's mask cracks. Her wings flare out and Dimitrescu flinches. The movement ripples through her satin dress otherwise I would have missed it.

"Is that your final answer?"

"Yes."

"Fine. You were always the most willful," Miranda turns, "I'll find another then, and I'll be keeping them when they're restored."

It's so quiet I swear I can hear mother Dimitrescu's leather gloves groan. Her hands are stiff and one is balled into a fist.

"So be it."

As soon as the front door closes and Miranda is gone mother Dimitrescu sighs, shoulders still tense. Agony is written into every line in her face. Her head is hung and her yellow eyes are screwed shut fighting back hot tears.

"Mother," I murmur.

"Iulia."

Hesitantly I walk over to her, gazing up with the candle in my hands, "Thank you."

"How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough."

Mother kneels down and pulls me into a tight hug. Careful of the candle I wrap my free arm around her neck and lean into the embrace. Finally this close I can feel the shivers, the result of body shaking sobs being held in.

"Maybe we can bring them back without her," I say.

"I doubt it, but the thought is very sweet," She murmurs in a broken voice. When we draw back her smile is hopeful and hurting. "You should be sleeping. Let's get you back in your bed where you belong."