I was left utterly questioning and confused as to not only the size of this house, but it's configuration as well. The hallways I was led down seemed far too numerous and without a specific system of any note to guide your way. Each one filled with portraits that stared inwards with an almost palpable discontent, and only the odd few wearing clothing that resembled anything close to the current times.
A macabre feeling crawled from my spine and crept its spindly legs over my shoulders at the thought; that maybe it was specifically designed to be this way. A maddening maze, an unwinnable game, a trap for whatever poor soul was to play the mouse in a den of cats. My eyes followed this train of thought, eyeing darkened patches of wood with acute suspicion, every upturned corner of a rug was cautiously stepped over as if an invisible trip wire lay in that specific spot.
I was apprehensive; on a slow come down from the high of somehow standing up to Bethany. My instincts threatened their shaking hands over the much used panic button, readying itself to plunge my body with adrenaline at the slightest aggressive display that danced into my twitching vision.
We'd mostly travelled in silence, Elizabeth and I, as we navigated the halls of this house. She led the way confidently, quietly. The clack of her heels just barely noticeable, and I wondered if my own heartbeat was the loudest thing here. Her arm was hooked around mine comfortably, conjuring images of Victorian spring walks by the riverside or through esoterically cultured parks. It soothed my panicked soul somewhat, musing over such imaginations. I think I'd rather suit a cane and bowler hat. White gloves and a well-tailored suit. This is all assuming I was a wealthy socialite in Victorian times of course. Which I most certainly would not be. No; I'd be closer to the near homeless boy asking to spit shine your shoes, or the greased up warehouse employee, lamenting over becoming obsolete thanks to a new machine, while collecting my teeth that'd fallen out to lack of hygiene available. One can dream though.
Eventually she relinquished my arm, as we stopped in front of a dark wooded door. It's handle made of a blackened metal, spiralled outwards in a manner that made you think of flowers, which she gripped with the gentle gloves of her hand and opened it.
It swung inwards as we both entered, I was met with the pleasing, whimsical, scent of old books. The room was taller than I expected. Books plastered each and every surface, challengingly tempting as their spines displayed their contents in proud shimmering fonts of gold or silver. Some were piled five or more high, atop desks and tables. Errant papers or marks growing out over their pages, like familial placeholders. A gentle stream of pale light, cut softly through a gap in the heavy curtains that blocked the large, arched window on the far side of the room.
Elizabeth led me to a comforting table, tucked neatly in one corner of the room. It was curiously decorated like the outside of a cafe, or pub garden. A soft, round, wooden table with chairs adjacent from each other, and a small hole in it's centre where one would plant an umbrella or shade. A lantern hangs nailed and fastened to the brick wall, a half melted candle on it's inside, and a green and red canopy is just above that, stretching over the table in its entirety like it was to protect us from the sun above. There lay another, small, candle on the side closest to the wall, also half melted, and a few books just beside that.
I couldn't help but smile at the scene, it was nice, and oddly romantic.
"Sit if you'd like" Her voice rang sweetly, as she tucked her dress beneath her and took a seat on one of the metal chairs that squeaked ever so slightly.
"Thank you" I replied, suddenly becoming very aware of my manners. My eyes darted over the spines of the books that lay on the table beside me. 'The Secret Storm's End,' 'Witch Eyes.' Somehow I expected books of sorrowful poetry or philosophy, and yet I find works of fiction. I'm not sure why it sparks my curiosity so, I guess it's just grounding to find evidence of, what I would consider, normalcy in this enigmatic and powerful figure before me. "You like to read then?" I ask
"Extensively. It's quite a hobby and well... I have nothing but time" She smiled gently, procuring two china cups from a small caddy to her side, and a very delicate, already steaming, tea pot. She poured the golden brown liquid from it's spout, removing the chance for me to decline as she slid it silently in my direction.
"Do you have any favourites? Like genres that you like?"
"I do. But if I tell you, you'd find it quite laughable, and I do not think I could bare such shame." Elizabeth giggled mischievously. I was hooked by that response, as insanely formal as it was; I must discover it. Was it erotica? Was that her favourite? Trash romance maybe? Those books that are always by the checkouts in corner shops by authors you've never head of, and usually involve some form of ill fated romance? I bet its horror. Poetry? Neck-biting for dummies?
"What? After that response, you have to tell me. I'll go insane trying to figure it out otherwise!" I pleaded, as I scanned other books in vain in an attempt to find some form of theme but coming up short.
"Well, would you not miss the mystery? The unknown aspects of my personality that are always teasingly out of reach?" She toyed
"Nope. I'd like to know you. Aside from Aramis, and Casper: you've been the only Vampire I've met so far that's been nice to me for more than ten minutes." I replied, immediately scolding my tongue on the tea in an attempt to stop myself from probably insulting her family any further.
"I like Vampire novels. Romance. Horror. The works" Her words immediately caused the tea to be ejected from the cup at my choke, and splash scalding liquid, into my face, up my nose, and down my shirt. I coughed and spluttered, dabbing at my face with the sleeve of my hoodie, somewhat fighting the sting. Elizabeth's laughter ringing in my ears while I wheezed.
"Really?" I croaked, taking deep breaths in an attempt to compose myself. No fucking way.
"Mhmm." She grinned affirmatively.
"I have so many questions. Do they ever get things right? Are you ever offended by how they represent Vampires? Have you ever met a Vampire that sparkled?" The last question caused an uncharacteristic snort from Elizabeth as she brought her cup to her lips and sipped.
"Some of the things they get right, some of the things they get wrong. It's strange really the accuracy sometimes, but that's usually circumvented by something completely in the opposite direction a page or two later. No, I don't get offended by it. It's just an interpretation by people that have listened in on the longest game of Chinese whispers, about what we are and what we should be, and I personally don't find it offensive because for all they know: they're talking about something that doesn't exist. They can do as they please. That's not to say I never get offended. There have been a few times where I couldn't read on, and I've met a few others that get deeply offended by any form of literature that involves our kind no matter the contents. A product of a sense of superiority I should imagine. And yes, once. When Casper was three he somehow managed to tip an entire pot of glitter on top of his head when Mother took him to a crafts store. No matter how much he was bathed: he sparkled for about two weeks afterwards. Mothers furniture never looked so twinkly."
We both shared a laugh, it was strange having such a casual conversation with someone such as her. Elizabeth, to me, seemed like someone to be admired from a distance. The subject of envious whispers from on lookers who's attention was wholly snatched by her presence. A dark piece of art that one is cautioned to only admire from a far, lest you be escorted off the premises by security and beaten in a sewage filled alleyway as a reminder of your worth by comparison. Of course that was all preposterous. She was a person after all. A morbidly beautiful one at that. Bitter but unequivocally rich, like the darkest of chocolates.
"Well, I suppose we should get down to business, should we not?" She asked, and while the atmosphere still remained somewhat cheerful, it was tempered with a more serious tone. Like a moist towel in a sauna.
"Okay" I replied, apprehension and a little disappointment more obvious in my voice than I would like. I watched as Elizabeth smoothed down the dress on her lap, delicately placing her hands there as she stared up at me.
"What do you know about our history?" She asked
"Not much... If anything at all really" I answered, feeling a little guilty at my ignorance.
"That's alright. There's a fair bit as with literally everybody and race in the world. Don't worry though, I'm not going to bore you with a lecture. Or at least I hope I won't."
"Okay..."
"A very, very, absurdly, long time ago. Vampires were the subject of three curses, by your people. Witches." She began, and I suddenly felt very tense in my seat. A burden of guilt or responsibility making itself obvious to me. Unfurling from the pit of my stomach and anchoring itself across my back and shoulders.
"Relax." She reassured, relieving me somewhat, but not entirely. "Everybody has some way to justify their actions in the moment. Retroactively, almost everything seems to be over the top or harsh, but I am sure that at the time it seemed right, to the right people. And there are far too many people in the world, bearing the sins of their forefathers, actions not their fault or out of their control. No one alive today will find blame from me, or a good majority of Vampires; I promise you."
"A-are you wanting me to try and reverse these curses? Break them somehow?" I asked, entirely aware that I was most likely not up to the task. I could barely dress myself right.
"No, no. Don't worry about that. They're quite unbreakable, and believe me when I say, that many have tried. These days they're just considered symptoms of being one of us. We're quite used to it."
"Sorry... I would if I could."
"You don't even know what the curses are" She giggled, causing me to blush somewhat.
"I know. But I feel like you're going to tell me, and I wanted you to know, that I would if I could. In an instant. I'll research and see what I can dig up and have a go at it. Or something"
"You're sweet, and astute. Thank you. Now, the three curses. I'm going to explain them, but I want you to know not to feel guilty or anything of the sort, and I promise it does have relevance to what you're here for." She said giving my hand a reassuring squeeze from across the table. I nodded in response, attempting to brace myself for the assured wave of guilt that I am sure that I was about to feel. "The first curse, was immortality. You made it so that we would not wither as the things we love do. To watch as the world continued on without us within its cycle. It is said that because of our immortality, we are rejected from the ever spinning wheel of life. Cast from our now long forgotten gods; our bodies will not nourish the earth with our death, and our souls are unable to be born anew, so that even in death we are unchanging. Although I suppose the more spiritual half of that is entirely up to the more philosophical of us. The second curse; was Hematophagy. You made it so that food would turn to ash in our mouths, only the sanguineous lover of the heart could provide us sustenance. Our lives could only be nourished with the lives of others. With blood. The third and final curse: the curse of besottment. It is like a bond I suppose. A small taste of anothers blood is fine. A little more is okay. But as more and more is taken, the more and more the Vampire craves. It is said to be the greatest feeling a Vampire can experience. A moment of pure, ecstatic love, that is then cruelly ripped from them when they find themselves incapable of stopping until there is none left, and the subject of their feed now lies dead in their arms. Some of the bloodiest, and most infamous of our kind that have gone down in history are just those of us craving that high, a constant moment of euphoria. As cruel as it sounds, this curse is the easiest to manage. We've never had to drink that much to live, and these days most of it is artificial anyway, so it never really comes up. Sometimes accidents happen though. Luckily, it only lasts until the blood makes its way through our system."
"And Aramis almost..."
"Killed you yes. Thankfully, you had your family around you and they were able to stop things before they had gotten too far. I am eternally grateful for what you did for Aramis that night, even more so that your family seemed understanding in that it was not his fault for almost killing you."
"So Aramis is currently suffering under the effects of this third Curse?"
"Yes. For about eight or nine more hours roughly"
"I want to see him"
"Are you sure? He is not himself at the moment..."
"I am sure you can protect me if anything goes wrong... Please?" I pleaded, watching as she looked away. Elizabeth was almost expressionless in this moment, but I could see the machinations of her mind working as she decided what to do. An eternity passed before she silently nodded and stood from her chair.
"Very well. Follow me, please" She politely said, and I followed after her.
A/N: Woo! lore chapter!
a particularly long one at that. What do you guys think of the Three Curses? Let me know!
Shout out to two easter eggs of note here:
"The Secret Storm's End" is a story that you can read right here on wattpad! I highly recommend it.
"Witch eyes" is a really far call back to a friend from a longtime ago that I felt nostalgic to put in here. I miss her very much, and we don't talk like we used to.
Anyway, thanks for reading! Comment and vote maybe?