Son of Dracula ||Book Two||

Cassiopeia

I heard our home beginning to shuffle with life as night fell upon us. It was about time everyone else woke up. I couldn't remember at what time I had woken up, but had passed the time by reminding myself how we had gotten to this point; how I had come to this. Tonight was going to be hard, just as it was every year. I didn't look forward to it, knowing the speeches and the emotions that were going to follow.

Fifteen years had passed since my mother's death.

It wasn't that I wanted to ignore it or pretend like it had never happened, quite the opposite actually, but I wasn't ready to watch my all-mighty father crumble before her grave while us brothers did the same. Each time we wept at her grave, I couldn't help but wonder if she was proud of what we had done; what father had done.

Father was beginning to grow short with me as the years did nothing to chip away at my thoughts on how we fulfilled our thirst. He had thought that once Caelum had joined us, that I would be swayed by mere pressure. That had yet to happen, putting a flaw into his overall idea of how our paths would continue on. He still continued to be my loving father, simply carrying more disappointment towards me than before.

Once I had gathered the courage to get out of bed, I moved directly to my closet. If the years had taught me anything, it was that there was a specific routine that needed to be started. It was requested by father that on the anniversary of mother's death, we dress in our blackest clothes. We were to have our hair combed and styled, as well as being freshly washed. We all agreed to this, believing that visiting mother on this day required us to be looking our best. Not that we thought mother wouldn't listen or appreciate us if we came underdressed, but more along the lines that we wanted to do it in her honor.

The first few years had been hard on Caelum, given that Alistair, father and I were able to blend into the black of our clothing. Being the only one with mother's red hair had made him insecure, especially when he was required to dress all in black. It had taken a while for the three of us to convince him otherwise, but it had eventually happened.

I already knew what to expect of the night. We always started in the visiting room, sharing stories about mother. We remembered her in our own way, mainly telling them to Caelum who could barely remember her. Together with our servants, we would celebrate the life she led. Afterwards, the four of us would walk out to the garden where her grave rested.

Being able to remember her and talk about our memories somewhat healed my memory of her, but not by much. It wasn't unusual for my mind to begin mixing realities, as father called it, when the talk became too much. Franklin had offered some help, saying that I was probably experiencing a form of survivor's guilt. Diagnoses and supposed treatments barely helped. I just suffered through the taunting memories, usually being able to distance myself from them. I had my brothers to thank for that.

Alistair was quiet, but he noticed everything. Even if a person thought he wasn't paying attention, he was. His memory was practically photographic and he took pride in being able to notice things that father had missed, being able to report it to him first. Because of this, he was usually the first to notice when my mind would begin tricking me. Despite his cold exterior that I blamed father for, he always helped me break free. He'd call my name and tell me facts of the present, then he would force me to move around. The moving wouldn't always line up with the images, allowing me brief control.

In the few times where Alistair wasn't around, Caelum would also be able to help. It took him a little longer to notice compared to Alistair, but anything was better than nothing. His approach was different from Alistair's, but I didn't mind. He would hold onto my arm and whisper to me. He would tell me what he could see, counting the things around the room. Caelum would have me count with him until I was freed from the images.