"Let me get this straight. You mean to tell me that the head of Red Moon Rising, and the one that wants to wipe you off of the face of the earth is… your mother?" Asked Viktor. I think this is the first time that I have seen him so stunned. It would normally be quite amusing if it was not because it was my situation that had him so stunned.
"Yes," I said simply, taking a sip of the plum brandy in my hand.
"Why?"
"I told you; because I lived and Elena and Nicholas didn't." I was getting a bit tired of constantly repeating myself, but I could understand his confusion. Most creatures didn't kill their young, but apparently, my mother did not subscribe to that belief. Or, maybe because it was because I couldn't die that she just didn't care how many times she ripped me to pieces.
"But your mother is dead," he said like it made all the sense in the world.
I laughed at that thought. It was somewhat cute that he truly believed that. "Do you really think that the woman that cursed six families to an eternal life of damnation would not have plans for herself?" I asked, looking at him from over the rim of my cup. This plum brandy was going down very smoothly, a little too smoothly, and I didn't want to find out what kind of a drunk I was.
After taking one last slip, I put it down on the coffee table and looked at the man sitting in the wingback chair across from me. "She is human to a certain extent. I mean, she is born and will die. Whether she dies from natural or unnatural causes doesn't really matter. She will live the same life as a human… and that is why she is able to act under your radar… she is not a 'monster'. Although if you ask me, a monster, in this case, is a relative term."
Van Helsing hummed in agreement and took a large sip of his brandy. "How does she do it?" He asked, wondering how something like this had been going on for hundreds of years without his knowledge. Clearly, he was slipping when it came to some things.
"It is the cycle of rebirth and reincarnation," I replied, trying to think about exactly how she was able to do it. I wasn't sure about the details, I just knew that after 45 years, she would come back and hunt me down. "She cursed herself to an unending cycle of hatred. She is born, lives her life happily as a human, and when she turns 45, she remembers everything and then starts to hunt me down. It's kind of like clockwork in a way."
"When was the last time?"
"43 years ago, if I'm not mistaken. She had me for about ten years. I am released or killed when she dies, so however long it takes her to die is the length of my punishment. The hunt should not start for another few years, but with the waves I am making, it could be sooner. I also don't know how long it normally takes her to find me."
"But I don't understand, what did you do to be punished?" Asked Viktor, trying to get the whole story, but no matter how he looked at it, it didn't make sense.
"I didn't die a horrible death. The first time I died it was a clean cut to my neck, cutting off my head. Back then, Mother kind of loved me. She was the one that told me to try to use the ribbons, but when it worked, I don't think she saw that coming." I closed my eyes in pain. "She was the one that told me I must never submit to my monster, that I would go on a massive killing spree and kill everything around me. She is the one that said I needed to remain human at all costs. Don't step foot ever in the House Gypsy, don't go looking for monsters and whatever I did, don't claim the name Tesalor as mine."
"Sounds like an absolutely wonderful woman," Viktor chuckled sarcastically. This time it was my turn to hum in agreement.
"She actually was until her favorite children were killed. I remember times when I would sit there, watching her comb Elena's hair or teaching her how to sew, she had such a soft, caring look on her face. I never saw it again after Elena's body was found."
I looked at the man sitting in front of me. Really looked at him. The designer suit that he normally wore aside, the man had an aura of strength and confidence, like he could take on anyone and anything and win. Even in jogging pants and a t-shirt, his aura never changed. He was comfortable in a boardroom or in the streets, no matter where he went he commanded acknowledgment and obedience.
His fingers were long, the nails clipped so that they weren't too short or too long. There was not a single strand of hair out of place, even though he let it air dry. This man could make even the Gods jealous.
"Do you know how the legend of Pandora came about?" I asked as I continued to study him. He didn't seem bothered about the intense scrutiny.
"Wasn't it because one of the Gods was jealous and upset about something that the humans did and gave a curious girl a box full of all the evils in the world as a punishment?"
I hummed in agreement, studying his clavicle where the outline was visible in his thin cotton shirt. I looked at his neck, at the cords and tendons, his chiseled jawline, and perfect lips.
"What are you thinking?" He asked, his voice low and controlled. "Tell me."
"I am thinking that more than Pandora, the Gods should have been jealous of you," I said in a daze. The draw to tell him everything pulled at me, guiding my thoughts and actions.
"Tell me, why do you think that?" His green eyes almost seemed to change from light to dark, the deeper I looked into them, the more entranced I was.
"Because you are perfection, I have never seen someone so… so…" my voice fizzled off as I tried to think of a word that could express how I saw him.
"More perfect than Vlad?" He asked this time crossing his legs in front of him and folding his hand over his knee.
"Vlad does not have the beauty that you do, not the sheer perfection," I confessed.
"Then why did you never look at me like you did Vlad?" He asked.
The fog seemed to float away and my brain was slowly able to think again.
"Tell me," he commanded… and I had no choice but to obey.
"Because there was no way the Count's son would look at the Gypsy reject," I said, speaking my truth.
Viktor only hummed, but the rest of him seemed to freeze like a panther that had just spotted its prey.
"And now? Tell me, my little cub, do you look at me like you look at him?" He demanded, leaning forward to stare me down, his eyes never blinking.
"No," I said, "How could I look at you like I look at him? He doesn't remember me, he never cared. Why should I look at him?"
"Then when you see me, what do you see?" He asked, his line of questions so far away from the topic of the hunters that I couldn't understand anything… and I had no filter in my answers either.
"Tell me! What do you see when you see me!" Growled the man in front of me.
"Home," I replied before passing out.