March 3, 1888
Dear Diary,
Today was quite eventful. Lord Mircea has asked me to accompany him to London along with Mr. Matthews. I find it very nostalgic as this was how Mrs. Shelly invited me to her morning walks sometimes back in the day.
But Lord Mircea is unlike Mrs. Shelly. The only time he would let a house maid accompany him was when he was in need of her skill. I am the only one in the house who is an undead alchemist. Had I not died I might have gone places. Alas I am but a lowly maid serving an eccentric lord of the underworld. He must be in search of something that requires my knowledge and understanding.
I honestly don't know why I stay with the lord. He has more bad points than good, and he reeks of death and alcohol all the time. But Mr. Matthews and Mrs. Ashfield and all the others are loyal to him, and they have spent longer years with him than me and Mr. Dolson ever had.
Anyways, we went to this odd little shop in the square, quite near the outskirts of downtown London. I've never seen it before. It was both old-fashioned and new in a way. It had a very interesting name too. It was called Pinocchio Antiquariato--quite an odd name for a shop in England. And there were barely any antiques there... just piles of things that looked... old and weathered.
I don't think they were antiques though. I don't think that at all. In fact, I feel that I have seen them all before somewhere in Italy—recent innovations of the age. My nose does not lie.
But the oddest thing about this establishment was not its contents. It was the shop keeper, the one who referred to himself as the Toy Maker. Strange name as I did not see that many toys save the doll that Lord Mircea so highly coveted.
And yes, for once did I truly see the earl covet something. How his beautiful red eyes flashed with desire, how his nostrils flared in anger when he was denied its possession. I never knew that a man could look so beautiful coveting a little girl's plaything.
I do not blame him. The doll was enchanting in every sense of the word. Had I been in his shoes and had nothing of value to me, I would have coveted the doll as well. She was THAT mesmerizing I suppose. But I have something I possess that I treasure, something that cannot be taken away. Not even the hankering count could take it from me.
The tale is quite wordy, old friend. I shall write again soon as I have my duties to attend to.
Yours truly,
Katherine Edwards
... ... ...
Katherine's duties were put on hold by a sudden request from the count's valet. What could the earl possibly want from her now? She had just finished milking the cows and was about to curdle cheese when Mr. Matthews came in with an exhausted look.
Katherine frowned. She knew that face. Lord Mircea's going to cause a scene in London. Again.
She sat up, feeling her joints pop as she stretched and yawned. It was too damned early for anyone to be going up and about in Aster. But if one was to earn a shilling in the Faelore Manor, a servant had to keep up with Lord Mircea's spontaneity.
The cow she'd been milking looked at her as if in scrutiny. It was nice to know that the animal seemed to empathize with her. How oddly comforting.
"I am sorry to drag you away from your duties, madam," Mr. Matthews bowed in apology. Katherine cast him a deadpanned glare. The sir wasn't sorry at all. "The lord demands that we meet him in his study."
"I am not clothed appropriately to be in our lord's presence," Katherine stated. If she sounded a bit haughty saying it, she could not care less. "Would the kind sir allow me some time to change into something more presentable?"
Mr. Matthews gave her a once over. The damned lecher. "Yes please."
Katherine bowed. Finally a few extra minutes of solitude.
As Mr. Matthews left, Katherine gathered the small stool she sat on and brought it to the side. She kicked the balls of hay and wheat to another side of the barn-house and swept whatever remained on the floorboards into a pile. She then grabbed the pale of fresh cow's milk, bringing it out into the yard then into the kitchen for curdling. She strained the white liquid, then emptied it into a clean pan. Giving a few instructions to Michelle on how to curdle dairy, she hung up her aprons by the kitchen rack and went to her room. She'll leave the cleaning of pans, separators and buckets to Michelle in the meantime. The lord was not a patient man and she obviously had little time to dawdle like she usually did in the mornings.
After getting dressed in a simple, cleaner gown, she went over to the earl's study with minimal haste. She found Mr. Matthews already there, waiting on his lord's command. The earl's back was to them, his gaze to whatever it was beyond the foggy window. Both she and Mr. Matthews waited patiently, the sound of the earl sipping his wine breaking the silence.
Why was the lord drinking again so early in the morning? Had the lord not been a dhampir, he would have died from intoxication!
Lord Mircea's turned to them finally, placing the goblet on his desk. Some wine dribbled down the side of his lips, its color bright and angry like fresh blood. Oh, wait, it was blood. Katherine nodded to herself. So it wasn't wine after all.
It has been a while since the count had fed. Katherine dreaded knowing whose blood was unfortunate enough to be on the lord's breakfast meal. Perhaps it was that scoundrel who kept sneaking into the compound and peeing at the lord's roses. She secretly hoped so.
"My lord?' Mr. Matthews croaked. Katherine heard how his breath turned heavy with hunger. She watched as Mr. Matthews followed the red liquid drip down the lord's chin and stain the front of his vest. The poor steward had yet to feed as well.
She found the lord's eyes on her, looking expectant. Ah, he probably needed the imitation blood she conjured. It was good that she had a vial on her person, lest Mr. Matthews lose himself and bite her, forgetting that she was bloodless and undead. It happened before, and she ended up with a severed limb and he with a black eye that did not heal for weeks.
Katherine pulled the vial from her pocket and handed it over to the lord's valet. Mr. Matthews cast her a grateful nod and drank the blood with one gulp. She fought a smile at seeing his pained expression. Fake blood tasted horrible, but what did they expect of her? She was an alchemist, not a wine-maker.
"When will you make something gentler on the palate I wonder?" Mr. Matthews muttered darkly, handing the vial back to her.
If the lord shall grant her a laboratory of her own instead of working the dairy farms like a common girl, why not?
"Good work, Ms. Edwards," Lord Mircea commended. "The last vial lasted him five years before he became thirsty again." The lord then turned to Mr. Matthews. "This would be easier if you took on human prey, like I said."
"I'd rather tolerate Ms. Edward's bitter potion than drink human blood for sustenance, my lord." Mr. Matthews replied, wiping his mouth with a clean cloth. "And animal blood has more than compensated my lack of nutrition."
"Absolute bore. There's no fun in drinking cheap deer," Lord Mircea tutted. Mr. Matthews presented him a clean napkin. The earl took it, wiping the blood that stained his lips and chin. "However, feeding Mr. Matthews is not the reason why I summoned you here, Ms. Edwards. I need you to accompany us in London for a walk."
"As my lord commands." Katherine bowed in understanding. She knew that when the Lord needed accompaniment on a 'walk', he meant business of a supernatural matter. If she was needed, it may have something to do with the arcane. Who else in the manor knew better about it than her?
And yet the damned lord appointed her a dairy maid. Just pitiful. But at least she was ridiculously compensated compared to other house maids in that day and age.
When she straightened herself, the lord gave her a sour look. The count obviously expressed his distaste over her choice of wear. Wordlessly, she bowed. It was a silent confirmation that, yes, she will change into something fancier because it would be the death of the earl if he was seen in public with some scullery maid.
She went to one of the manor's many guest rooms and found a noble's morning gown, one of the dresses Lord Mircea bought for his earliest 'wives' (for the man loved to keep appearances and conjured illusions of women in public). She had some of her fellow maids assist her in putting it on, occasionally complaining about how petticoats and corsets and multiple skirts were such a chore to wear. Nicole and Jonah had of course berated her, saying that she should be honored and that she was lucky enough to be beside the handsome Lord Mircea in public. She snorted. If anything, she would rather tolerate Mr. Rhode's whimsicalness, Mr. Servan's innuendos, or even Mr. Matthews' inside tomfoolery than be within five yards of the count.
She had an odd mix of admiration and distaste for him, if she said so herself. Perhaps that was why she could relate a lot to the butler's feelings towards their lord.
Katherine gave herself a once over as she stared at the mirror in her room. Her tragic auburn locks were looped into a neat braided bun, and the corset did well to reduce the size of her bosom. She was ready.
They went on their way, Mr. Rhodes driving them to the city an hour later. They barely entered the downtown area and Katherine could already smell the slums and sewage. Enhanced senses were one of the many misfortunes of being undead, and oh, how she wished that she stayed dead instead! But London had its fancies despite the foul smell; she would have the chance to see Paxton's Crystal Palace again—a sight she always looked forward to whenever she visited London. She giggled quietly in delight.
Her joy was short-lived when Lucian decided to stop at the center of Aster though. What was the darned earl up to know?
Lucian hopped down the automobile before Sir Froilan could stop the vehicle.
"My lord!" Mr. Matthews spluttered indignantly as he exited the car. "That was dangerous!"
Katherine sighed, watching as the butler ran after their master. Of course, they had to leave the lady unassisted with her descent. But Katherine was a mere dairy maid, of course. Who was she to warrant the attention of the gentlefolk?
As if sensing her exasperation, Sir Froilan descended the car and offered a hand in assistance. Katherine smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you."
"Nice to see you engage with society again, Ms. Edwards," the footman greeted. "You've been too cooped up in the dairy farms, we barely see you in the manor."
Katherine grinned sadly. The lord could not be fully blamed for her position as a dairy maid. She chose to serve him secluded from everyone else in the first place.
"I am an undead house maid, Sir Froilan," she stated simply. "The housekeeper would not appreciate the manor smelling like rotting flesh."
Which was completely untrue, she knew. Mrs. Jen was one of the kindest souls she had ever met.
"If it pleases you, miss, I find the smell of rotting flesh very appetizing." The footman grinned in a poor attempt at flirtation. Katherine threw him a sour look.
"You valravyns and your taste in food," Katherine sneered in disgust.
The footman laughed. "I'll find a place to park the carriage, miss," Sir Froilan said, changing the subject. "You go ahead and catch up with Mr. Matthews and Lord Mircea."
Katherine nodded in agreement, and went on her way.
They were at the corner street of Rosenburg and Shiloh where a new building stood. The square already bustled with activity at the early hours of the morning. Katherine was never a fan of crowds, but if there was any consolation to her predicament, neither was Lord Mircea. She waded through the stream of pedestrians going about their day, afraid that she might have lost the two gentlemen she traveled with. Finally, she found the two close to an establishment that was quite the sight for sore eyes.
It was an antique shop around two stories tall, with walls made of cherry red bricks and iron beams. The windows were framed by cream colored wood, and inside, the shop was alight with crystal-like baubles that hung in a messy web of strings and wire beneath the ceiling. Though the shop sign read Pinocchio Antiquariato, or Pinocchio Antiques, Katherine could not see any antiques on offer through the window. Instead the place was arrayed with clocks, pots, screws, bolts, and machinations of every shape and size. There were spools of large wire and rolls of expensive-looking silks and wools, and shelves upon shelves of bottles filled with glowing concoctions. A miniature railway mapped the shop's floor, with books and trinkets stacked and scattered on each side. If anything, it looked more like an engineer's messy office or a scientist's unkempt library than a store.
If the merchandise ever gave any justice to the shop's name, it was that they all looked antique. But they weren't, Katherine was sure. She would know what real antique was. She trusted her guts, and her sense of sight and smell. It was obviously misleading advertising.
When she caught up, she found Lord Mircea staring quietly at something neither she nor Mr. Matthews could see. He walked towards the glass, comically pressing his face against the pane like a curious schoolboy. An interesting quirk as Katherine knew how adamant the lord was in keeping up with appearances in public. It was the first time she witnessed him in silly fashion while out in the open.
"My lord," said the head steward, regarding the earl with a deadpanned look. "There is no need to press your face against the glass. We can march through the door as you please."
"Silence, Allen," the lord shushed him. "I am in the midst of an investigation!"
Katherine raised a brow. What foolishness is the lord up to now? What was so interesting inside that caught his attention?
She heard the door open and the shop's bell ring. A tall man who appeared to be in his sixties greeted them with a warm smile. He had friendly green eyes and salt and pepper colored hair tied back in a low ponytail. She smiled back in return, bowing in greeting. Her expression was short lived when she found Mr. Matthews' frown however.
Then she felt it: a strong, arcane presence flowing out of the shop. It was cold like the air, but it carried a heavier weight that brought chills to her spine. It had a faint, pungent smell that was both sickly sweet and vile. Whatever this energy was, it seemed to be coming from inside the shop. No wonder the lord brought her to the city. A strong magician was most likely in their midst.
Katherine adjusted her glasses. There was work to be done.
She pulled a small flask from her pockets, uncorking it. Though it appeared empty, the glass was actually filled with gas that released iridescent particles into the air. These particles, only Katherine could see. The dust would flash purple if there was something akin to the arcane mixed in the air.
Had the lord brought her out for this child's play? She had mastered the craft since before she died. It was time to figure out if the place reeked of devils.
Katherine could almost hear the lord's proud hum of approval. Ah, perhaps she would get that laboratory after all.
"Welcome to Pinocchio Antiquariato," said the shop keeper. His words were laced with a light Tuscany accent hidden beneath a mastery of the local English. Katherine would know. She lived in Italy for a time after all. "How may I help you?"
The shop keeper's question fell on deaf ears. True to his peerage, Lord Mircea marched into the store as if he already claimed the establishment. He took off his top hat, letting a few strands of hair fall over his face as if to hide his intent. Katherine caught the side-glance he threw her way and nodded. Time to steer clear while the lord distracted the old man.
"I am in the mood to do some shopping," the earl said while perusing the shelves. Turning to the man, he added, "May I have a look around?"
The shop keeper nodded, his eyes crinkling with mirth. "Why certainly, my good sir. We have novelties collected from every corner of Europe and Asia. You will not find these anywhere else. Half of these merchandise are brand new even."
Katherine and Mr. Matthews shared confused looks.
"I thought this was an antiques shop, sir," Mr. Matthews remarked. Katherine used the opportunity to move to the counter and release her alchemical dust while the butler kept the man distracted.
The store owner chuckled, "Ah, forgive the confusion, sir. My daughter is a fan of Cullodi's work, so the namesake was inspired by the protagonist in Storia di un burattino. And I have always had a fascination for antiques, so I can assure you that some of these are indeed from the olden days."
Mr. Matthews walked over the toy train that ran through the floors. "Most of these are toys," he said, taking one tin-figurine of a soldier, "and the detailing on these are outstanding! Did you craft all these?"
"Yes, I made most of these toys myself," the man grinned, "I am what you would call, a professional Toy Maker."
Katherine watched Mr. Matthews don a somber grin. "Jerome would have loved a toy soldier like this," he muttered. It was too quiet for anyone else to hear, but Katherine heard as clear as day.
"Is she for sale?"
Katherine paused in her tracks and found the lord pointing at her. She squeaked, luckily hiding the vial in her pocket before the old man noticed.
The old man's face turned grim, all signs of congeniality gone. "No."
Anxiety crept up Katherine's spine, awkwardly stepping to the side of the counter. She realized Lord Mircea hadn't been pointing at her, but at the doll placed behind her, cased in a column of glass.
It was unlike any doll she had ever seen.
The doll stood like a girl frozen in time. Her long, flaxen waves framed a heart-shaped face with rose-flushed cheeks, droopy, round eyes, and small, plump lips. Her hair was decorated by a jewel-encrusted lace bonnet, and a flouncy, peach colored dress hugged her petite physique. Katherine could see the meticulous detailing on the fabrics, and much thought was put into the mechanism of her joints and limbs. She stood about a third quarter of Katherine's height, and if one did not pay close attention, they would think the doll was an actual little human girl. There has never been such a realistic doll in all of England.
The doll was perfect, and Katherine assumed the doll was made well beyond their time.
But more interesting than the doll was the count's expression. Katherine had never seen him so in awe of anything. The room filled with silence while they observed the lord walk towards the doll's casing. She could almost here the count say, 'I must have it! I must!', with the way he looked at the perfect mannequin. The way his eyes burned with such intensity was the most beautiful that Katherine had ever seen him.
What she would give to paint a picture of the lord and use it to spite him in the future.
"Why is she not for sale then?" Lord Mircea asked, abruptly turning to the store owner. There was an underlying hiss in his tone.
"She..." the toy maker sighed, "she's a collectible."
The smile on Lord Mircea's face was defiant. "All the more reason why I want her," he purred. By jove, did that purr make Katherine melt despite herself. He snapped his fingers, and Mr. Matthews was by his side, pulling a large wallet out of his purse. "Name your price."
Katherine watched the shop keeper cautiously. She could smell the sudden crackle of energy, similar to a burning ewe wood. With keen eyes, she found sparks dancing on the toy maker's skin. Was he the magician who possessed this terrible energy she was feeling?
"She is not for sale," the toy maker said. Katherine wrinkled her nose. Now the air smelled like charred flesh.
Yes, the man was dangerous, but so was Lord Mircea.
Turning to her master, she found his eyes gleaming with scarlet delight. She knew the darned lord was going to cause a scene. She pulled out a new vial, splashing the substance over the floor discretely. The shop was immediately filled with the scentless fragrance of concealing magic. She gave herself a mental pat on the back.
"I am the count of this shire, my good sir," Lord Mircea said, his words sharp and poisonous. "There is nothing I cannot give in exchange for a doll as priceless as her."
The toy maker sighed, pulling out a pair of spectacles from his pocket. He wore the glasses and looked deep in thought.
"She is just as you said, my lord," the toy maker wore his friendly smile again. "She is indeed priceless."
"I need her," Lord Mircea said. Odd. Lord Mircea never used the word 'need' before.
The toy maker pinched his chin in contemplation.
Katherine felt the hostile energy die down, but her stance remained guarded. She was glad that Mr. Matthews was there with them, for if the lord had come here on his own, he would most likely expose himself if to defend himself from this man.
Was this man immortal like the count? It didn't seem so, for he still smelled human to her.
Who was this toy maker exactly?
The toy maker sighed. "Very well."
It was too quick for Katherine's already keen eyes.
The shop owner snapped his fingers. The lights went out in irregular sparks until suddenly, a roll of black parchment hovered before them, surrounded by red smoke and light. There were writings on it that Katherine could not read. Possibly demon language, she supposed.
But Katherine would never forget the look on her master's face. Lord Mircea was aghast, and it would have made for a priceless moment had Katherine not been afraid. She realized with dread that for all the knowledge of the world's languages the count mastered, the lord could not read the fine print.
"What is the meaning of this?!" He asked defiantly.
Oh joy. She knew the lord would cause a scene again.