1: Lillian
It is a little funny how one can find her life changed in just a few moments. The night my mother died, she came into my room and gave me a small box. ‘Keep it closed,’ she told me; ‘never let anyone see what is inside.’ It was not until twenty years later did I finally see what was inside the box. It seemed fitting that my mother gave me such a precious, dangerous stone. Had anyone found the stone, it would have been destroyed without a second thought.
When my mother gave me the box, I tucked it safely under my pillow. She ran from my room, and, though I was young, I was old enough to realize when something was not right. I followed her, though she was much faster than myself. I had lost her, but I still ran. I ran until someone caught me. Grandpére Arkade grabbed me and carried me to the main hall, where I saw my father and aunt. That was not so out of the ordinary that I felt anything was amiss. I happily joined them, hugging my father, who hugged me back. It was then that I heard my mother's cries of desperation. I looked, and she was being dragged into the room, held by four vampires. My father's hold on me tightened, and he turned my face away from my mother's struggles.
It was only for a moment that we listened to her. I was wondering why I had to be turned from my mother, my beautiful mother. I shifted slightly so I could see what was happening without my father's awareness to what I was doing. I had not planned on getting away with turning so much without his noticing, and I knew why he did not notice me.
She stood, silently, staring at me. She held her head high in such a way that I had hoped to one day be able to do. I wanted her pride, her bravery; everything she was I wanted to be. She had not shed a tear on that night, even when her head was detached from her body. I clutched my father at seeing her body fall to the floor, a bloody, lifeless heap. I did not look away as Arkade picked me up and carried me from the room. He was the one who apologized for what I had to see. He was the one who stayed with me while I cried myself to sleep. He was the one who raised me from that night on, loved me, fed me, clothed me. He was the one whom I wanted to use the beautiful, dangerous stone. He was the one who ordered my mother's execution. He was the one I wanted to suffer.
When I finally opened the box my mother gave me, I wanted to throw it out the window, then thought better of it. Such a rare beauty as the Angel's Tear could not just be simply tossed out the window for anyone to find. I had kept it, intent on using it on my Grandpére, but I forgot about it. Instead, I had it hidden away, not bothering to take it out. I had not intended on actually using it ever. It was too precious for me to use up its power on something as childish as revenge. Besides, over the years, I had grown to love Arkade like he was my grandfather. I had to love someone, since my father seemed intent on avoiding me ever since my mother died.
The stone stayed in my room, forgotten.
When my mother gave me the box, I tucked it safely under my pillow. She ran from my room, and, though I was young, I was old enough to realize when something was not right. I followed her, though she was much faster than myself. I had lost her, but I still ran. I ran until someone caught me. Grandpére Arkade grabbed me and carried me to the main hall, where I saw my father and aunt. That was not so out of the ordinary that I felt anything was amiss. I happily joined them, hugging my father, who hugged me back. It was then that I heard my mother's cries of desperation. I looked, and she was being dragged into the room, held by four vampires. My father's hold on me tightened, and he turned my face away from my mother's struggles.
It was only for a moment that we listened to her. I was wondering why I had to be turned from my mother, my beautiful mother. I shifted slightly so I could see what was happening without my father's awareness to what I was doing. I had not planned on getting away with turning so much without his noticing, and I knew why he did not notice me.
She stood, silently, staring at me. She held her head high in such a way that I had hoped to one day be able to do. I wanted her pride, her bravery; everything she was I wanted to be. She had not shed a tear on that night, even when her head was detached from her body. I clutched my father at seeing her body fall to the floor, a bloody, lifeless heap. I did not look away as Arkade picked me up and carried me from the room. He was the one who apologized for what I had to see. He was the one who stayed with me while I cried myself to sleep. He was the one who raised me from that night on, loved me, fed me, clothed me. He was the one whom I wanted to use the beautiful, dangerous stone. He was the one who ordered my mother's execution. He was the one I wanted to suffer.
When I finally opened the box my mother gave me, I wanted to throw it out the window, then thought better of it. Such a rare beauty as the Angel's Tear could not just be simply tossed out the window for anyone to find. I had kept it, intent on using it on my Grandpére, but I forgot about it. Instead, I had it hidden away, not bothering to take it out. I had not intended on actually using it ever. It was too precious for me to use up its power on something as childish as revenge. Besides, over the years, I had grown to love Arkade like he was my grandfather. I had to love someone, since my father seemed intent on avoiding me ever since my mother died.
The stone stayed in my room, forgotten.
~.~
For as long as I can remember, I have been told I am the luckiest child in the world. I have never really understood why I, of all the billions of children in the world - whom I had no doubt had better lives than I did - was the luckiest. I have no mother, my father hardly looks at me, let alone talks with me, and I am to be forced to live in a castle full of vampires - I, being only a human girl - not to mention how much my grandfather just loves to dress me up in Lolita dresses. On some days, I do not mind looking like a little fragile China doll. My favorite dress happens to be a little white lacy dress, with a red silk ribbon around my waist, with sleeves down to my elbows, and a red headband to match.
Nevertheless, there are other days, in which I wish I looked like my Auntie Theme. Her naturally curly blonde hair was always perfectly hanging around her shoulders, whereas my darker blonde hair was straight, and usually in pigtails. Her light blue eyes reminded us all of the daytime sky, in which we were never to see again. Her naturally red lips formed the perfect smiles, and caused her white teeth to appear even whiter. Men were always staring at her, even some times my father and grandfather, as if she were the goddess of the world. Sometimes I found myself wishing someone would look at me as those men looked at her, and not like a little girl whose soul purpose in life was to be their dress up manikin.
I believe I inherited most of my features from my father. Our blonde hair was almost identical, except his was lighter, and never in pigtails, but always in a low ponytail. He was tall, taller than most men were that I have seen standing near him, with the exception of my grandfather, who seemed as tall as my father was. His eyes were almost a perfect blue like my aunt's, but just a little darker, like mine. There are faint lines around his eyes, indicating either age, or hardships. My guess is hardships, considering I know he was not that old when his body died. He always dressed in black suits, with a black undershirt and a black tie, which contributed to why his skin looked much paler in contrast to other vampires.
Grandpére Arkade, who was not really my grandfather but I liked to call him such, was the odd one of the three. He was as tall as my father was, but everything else was almost exactly opposite. His hair was an odd color of lavender, which I never really knew was natural or not. His eyes looked like they were a copy of his hair, or they were just a light blue, almost gray. He too always wore suits, but never the same color. On some days, he wore red, others he wore black, or some odd color like pink.
The four of us shared a castle in France, from which Arkade ruled all of our kind. It was not difficult to talk to a vampire from thousands of miles away. As the oldest vampire, and rumored to be the original, he was able to communicate to any of the vampires telepathically, and likewise, they can talk back to him the same way. However, this form of communication became a nuisance for him, having been contacted by tens of hundreds of vampires at the same time, so he learned how to control that communication. He could block out anyone trying to reach him, and if it was urgent, to call him.
The castle we lived in was not the largest, but it seemed to be the best for what it was used for...keeping me hidden from the world. Of course, that was not what it was really used for, but that was what I liked to think, since it seemed that that was why we lived there. Many people were terrified of a child vampire, and thought it best to destroy all children vampires. Although I was not really a vampire, it was thought best that I was. It was against a written law to make a child vampire, but it was also against written law to make a child between a vampire and human, and this was the crime in which my parents committed. However, Grandpére did not want to lose my father, so he punished only my mother. Perhaps this is why I am told I am the luckiest child in the world, because Arkade did not kill me, though he was obligated by his own law to do so. Instead, he had my mother punished, executed. I was kept alive, but was warned that if I showed any signs of psychopathic desires, or actions, I would be killed without mercy. I was not entirely sure what he meant by this, but I obeyed, and tried to keep my thoughts innocent as much as possible. It is believed that these wishes and actions would lead to something much bigger and bloodier, and thus must be destroyed. Thankfully, I hardly ever spoke - not because I could not, but because I never really saw any reason to - and I did not enjoy killing anything. Unfortunately, I realized I enjoyed watching things be killed, and that scared me more than the fear of being found out and killed for it.
I noticed it one night, walking the lonely halls of our castle, searching for the source of a scream. I had no idea who made the scream, but I could tell two things: it was male, and he was in pain. This particular night I was dressed in my favorite lacy dress. I had not added any shoes; I did not feel like it. I loved walking barefoot on the cold stone floor. I had with me my favorite possession, given to me by my mother the day before she was executed: a teddy bear. There was nothing special about him, but sometimes I felt as if my mother's soul lived on because of this bear. Though there have been times when I had been told the vampire creatures had no souls, this coming from my father and the occasional human who was under trial for some reason or other.
I found the source of the scream coming from what would be known as the throne room, if there was a throne. Instead it was just a large room, bare stony walls, and only a few chairs placed randomly around the room. On nights when no one was around, I liked to sneak into this room and rearrange the chairs, to see if anyone noticed. I once put one up where the throne should have been, and come by one night and found Arkade sitting in it, as if he was a king. He had an expression of amusement when he saw me peering in the room. He knew I was the one to move the chair, and he was taking advantage of the faux throne. I sincerely believed he enjoyed sitting there. When he left, I moved the chair, and no one bothered to move it back.
Two large doors opened to the room, which was odd, because usually they were closed when the three grown-ups were working. I hid behind the wall next to the open doors, and carefully peered inside. On the floor was a man, probably a mortal, laying on his side, holding his stomach as if he was in pain. My father stood a few feet away from him, facing him. A piece of his blonde hair had come out of the ponytail and hung in front of his eyes, but he looked so calm. I wanted to put that hair back where it belonged, but I knew my father would not let me touch him, even if I was not sneaking a peek at something I was not allowed to witness.
Grandpére Arkade stood in his usual spot, up where the throne should be, and behind him stood Aunt Theme, leaning against the wall. They both stared down at the mortal man on the ground, but with different expressions. Grandpére Arkade looked stern, almost angry, and Aunt Theme looked entertained, her lips curled up slightly in the barest of smiles. Whatever was going on, she was enjoying it. Grandpére Arkade wore a dark purple suit, with a white tie. Aunt Theme wore leather; it was all she ever wore. She wore a black leather corset, pushing her breasts high, giving the illusion they were larger than they actually were. She wore tight leather pants that were mostly covered by black boots that reached up to her thigh. Staring at her, I had one of those moments wishing I looked like her.
Grandpére Arkade nodded at my father, who then picked the man up, rather harshly, helping the man stand so he could look up at my grandfather.
"Tell me, Jean," he said, "how does it feel when you question authority? Hurts, doesn't it? What do you think, Rene?"
"Yes, sir," my father said quietly. He never spoke too loudly.
My grandfather nodded, pleased with my father's response. "Now, Jean, I am authority, you obviously know this, at least I hope you do."
The man nodded, grunting as if the simple action hurt.
"Now, I heard some of my vampires were sold to the Vampire Hunter Society, and that makes me upset, Jean." Grandpére Arkade walked, slowly, to the man.
The Vampire Hunter Society was a group of very few, brave humans who did not like that we had taken over the world. It was rumored that they formed in the middle of the fifteenth century, and their founders consisted of a priest, a very rich and very smart man, and a vampire. They would never admit that there was a vampire in their group, but how else could one explain their knowledge of how to destroy them? Their mission was to rid the world of the vampires, and bring the humans into power once again, and they planned on doing this by killing our kind very discreetly. To have heard that someone had "sold" some vampires to them meant that either the society was getting desperate, or they weren't real members of the society.
"Tell me, Jean, what could one gain from selling vampires to the enemy?"
"Please," the man whimpered. "I was desperate. My family hasn't eaten in days."
"There are other ways to fix that problem, and you chose the wrong one. Am I right, Theme?"
"Whatever," sighed my aunt. Grandpére Arkade glared at her, and she pushed up from the wall. "Just let me kill him, please." She whimpered just as the man had.
"In a minute, dear. I still have to prove my point."
"No!" cried the man. "Please. I'm sorry. It'll never happen again."
My father threw his fist into the man's stomach, making the man double over and cough up blood. My father let the man go so he fell to the ground and curled up into a fetal position, holding his stomach. At the sight of the blood, my breath caught in my throat, and soon the smell of blood replaced the scentless oxygen. I had to hold onto the doorframe to keep from falling. It smelled so good, and it took every restraint I could muster not to go in and drink his blood. I was always so baffled to why blood affected me this way, but I would not dare speak of it to anyone. I may not be a vampire, but I knew it was still dangerous for me to feel this way.
My aunt walked up to the man and pulled his head up, so he was looking right at me. I knew she did not do this on purpose, and the look of pain on the man's face made me feel as if this was a show just for me. I became excited, and could not wait for what would happen next. He opened his eyes, and looked at me. Our eyes locked for a second, and I smiled at him, just slightly, to let him I was enjoying the show.
"A child," he gasped, and the three adult vampires looked at me. I dropped my smile almost immediately, but I knew my father saw by the wide eyed surprised expression he gave me. I knew then that I was in trouble. I wasn't supposed to be seen by anyone, for if anyone else outside of my little family knew what I was, they would surly kill me.
Grandpére Arkade laughed. "I guess you'd have to kill him now, Theme."
My aunt placed her hands on the man's head, covering his ears. My father walked to me, and blocked my view of what happened next, though I was able to hear just a quick pop, and a tearing noise. My imagination told me his head had been torn off, though it happened much slower in my mind.
My father grabbed my arm and led me away from the room just as I began to smell more blood. He pulled me down the hallway, and didn't let go until we had turned many corners, gone up some stairs, and we were in front of my room. I cherished the touch, even if it was hard on my arm, but it was more than my father usually gave me. He let go and kneeled down in front of me, careful not to touch me anymore.
"What did you see?" he asked, his eyes moving from one of my eyes to the next in a fast motion. I never understood why people did that. It wasn't as if my other eye would show anything different than the one they were just looking at.
"Nothing, Father. I had just gotten there." I was smart enough to not tell him I had seen almost the whole show. "I heard a scream. Why is that man in trouble?"
Sighing, my father stood up. "He made Arkade angry," he answered indifferently. I knew he wouldn't have any emotion in this, considering my grandfather became angry quite often.
"How?"
"Why do you need to know?" he asked me, not unkindly. "Really, Lillian, you shouldn't ask so many questions. Curiosity isn't becoming of a young lady."
"I am sorry, Father," I whispered as he opened the door to my room. The room was dark, and I didn't want him to hide me in there for another night. "Can I go play outside?"
"You know you can't do that."
"But why?"
"Lillian, you'll do as I say. Go play with your dolls, and I'll have Theme bring you dinner." He glanced down at me for a moment, and back to the room, switching on the light.
I followed his gaze, and glowered at the many dolls scattered about. I did not want to go back in there. I wanted to go back downstairs and watch the man be beaten some more. I knew that was not a possibility, even if my father did love me. If I showed any signs that I liked what I saw, I would have been killed; my father probably would have liked to be rid of me.
Sighing, I walked to the middle of my room, and turned and looked back at my father. I gently set my bear on the ground, leaning it against my leg, and held out my arms to my father.
"Can I have a hug?"
His jaw clenched, and he blinked twice, fast. He closed the door and I heard him quickly walk away. I smiled at his discomfort, knowing full well he was not going to give me a hug.
I bent down and picked up one of my dolls, and looked at her, the scene of what I just witnessed still in my mind. I grabbed my doll's hair, and pulled as hard as I could, wrenching the head free from the body, the same "pop" that I heard when my father led me away. I dropped the body and head, a small smile on my face, and picked up my bear, and hugged him tightly.
It was a few days after this incident that I talked with my Grandpére about what I had seen. He explained, carefully, that the Society was becoming braver. They were paying people to turn in vampires, and they were killing without mercy. He had decided that something must be done, and he didn't want me in the middle of it all. He had sent out my father and other strict enforcers to take care of the situation. What he meant by that, I was not quite sure at the time.
Many years after, my father returned, but he felt it was still dangerous for me to be in France. Without another word, he arranged for me to be sent to Japan, to live with distant relatives of my mother.
For as long as I can remember, I have been told I am the luckiest child in the world. I have never really understood why I, of all the billions of children in the world - whom I had no doubt had better lives than I did - was the luckiest. I have no mother, my father hardly looks at me, let alone talks with me, and I am to be forced to live in a castle full of vampires - I, being only a human girl - not to mention how much my grandfather just loves to dress me up in Lolita dresses. On some days, I do not mind looking like a little fragile China doll. My favorite dress happens to be a little white lacy dress, with a red silk ribbon around my waist, with sleeves down to my elbows, and a red headband to match.
Nevertheless, there are other days, in which I wish I looked like my Auntie Theme. Her naturally curly blonde hair was always perfectly hanging around her shoulders, whereas my darker blonde hair was straight, and usually in pigtails. Her light blue eyes reminded us all of the daytime sky, in which we were never to see again. Her naturally red lips formed the perfect smiles, and caused her white teeth to appear even whiter. Men were always staring at her, even some times my father and grandfather, as if she were the goddess of the world. Sometimes I found myself wishing someone would look at me as those men looked at her, and not like a little girl whose soul purpose in life was to be their dress up manikin.
I believe I inherited most of my features from my father. Our blonde hair was almost identical, except his was lighter, and never in pigtails, but always in a low ponytail. He was tall, taller than most men were that I have seen standing near him, with the exception of my grandfather, who seemed as tall as my father was. His eyes were almost a perfect blue like my aunt's, but just a little darker, like mine. There are faint lines around his eyes, indicating either age, or hardships. My guess is hardships, considering I know he was not that old when his body died. He always dressed in black suits, with a black undershirt and a black tie, which contributed to why his skin looked much paler in contrast to other vampires.
Grandpére Arkade, who was not really my grandfather but I liked to call him such, was the odd one of the three. He was as tall as my father was, but everything else was almost exactly opposite. His hair was an odd color of lavender, which I never really knew was natural or not. His eyes looked like they were a copy of his hair, or they were just a light blue, almost gray. He too always wore suits, but never the same color. On some days, he wore red, others he wore black, or some odd color like pink.
The four of us shared a castle in France, from which Arkade ruled all of our kind. It was not difficult to talk to a vampire from thousands of miles away. As the oldest vampire, and rumored to be the original, he was able to communicate to any of the vampires telepathically, and likewise, they can talk back to him the same way. However, this form of communication became a nuisance for him, having been contacted by tens of hundreds of vampires at the same time, so he learned how to control that communication. He could block out anyone trying to reach him, and if it was urgent, to call him.
The castle we lived in was not the largest, but it seemed to be the best for what it was used for...keeping me hidden from the world. Of course, that was not what it was really used for, but that was what I liked to think, since it seemed that that was why we lived there. Many people were terrified of a child vampire, and thought it best to destroy all children vampires. Although I was not really a vampire, it was thought best that I was. It was against a written law to make a child vampire, but it was also against written law to make a child between a vampire and human, and this was the crime in which my parents committed. However, Grandpére did not want to lose my father, so he punished only my mother. Perhaps this is why I am told I am the luckiest child in the world, because Arkade did not kill me, though he was obligated by his own law to do so. Instead, he had my mother punished, executed. I was kept alive, but was warned that if I showed any signs of psychopathic desires, or actions, I would be killed without mercy. I was not entirely sure what he meant by this, but I obeyed, and tried to keep my thoughts innocent as much as possible. It is believed that these wishes and actions would lead to something much bigger and bloodier, and thus must be destroyed. Thankfully, I hardly ever spoke - not because I could not, but because I never really saw any reason to - and I did not enjoy killing anything. Unfortunately, I realized I enjoyed watching things be killed, and that scared me more than the fear of being found out and killed for it.
I noticed it one night, walking the lonely halls of our castle, searching for the source of a scream. I had no idea who made the scream, but I could tell two things: it was male, and he was in pain. This particular night I was dressed in my favorite lacy dress. I had not added any shoes; I did not feel like it. I loved walking barefoot on the cold stone floor. I had with me my favorite possession, given to me by my mother the day before she was executed: a teddy bear. There was nothing special about him, but sometimes I felt as if my mother's soul lived on because of this bear. Though there have been times when I had been told the vampire creatures had no souls, this coming from my father and the occasional human who was under trial for some reason or other.
I found the source of the scream coming from what would be known as the throne room, if there was a throne. Instead it was just a large room, bare stony walls, and only a few chairs placed randomly around the room. On nights when no one was around, I liked to sneak into this room and rearrange the chairs, to see if anyone noticed. I once put one up where the throne should have been, and come by one night and found Arkade sitting in it, as if he was a king. He had an expression of amusement when he saw me peering in the room. He knew I was the one to move the chair, and he was taking advantage of the faux throne. I sincerely believed he enjoyed sitting there. When he left, I moved the chair, and no one bothered to move it back.
Two large doors opened to the room, which was odd, because usually they were closed when the three grown-ups were working. I hid behind the wall next to the open doors, and carefully peered inside. On the floor was a man, probably a mortal, laying on his side, holding his stomach as if he was in pain. My father stood a few feet away from him, facing him. A piece of his blonde hair had come out of the ponytail and hung in front of his eyes, but he looked so calm. I wanted to put that hair back where it belonged, but I knew my father would not let me touch him, even if I was not sneaking a peek at something I was not allowed to witness.
Grandpére Arkade stood in his usual spot, up where the throne should be, and behind him stood Aunt Theme, leaning against the wall. They both stared down at the mortal man on the ground, but with different expressions. Grandpére Arkade looked stern, almost angry, and Aunt Theme looked entertained, her lips curled up slightly in the barest of smiles. Whatever was going on, she was enjoying it. Grandpére Arkade wore a dark purple suit, with a white tie. Aunt Theme wore leather; it was all she ever wore. She wore a black leather corset, pushing her breasts high, giving the illusion they were larger than they actually were. She wore tight leather pants that were mostly covered by black boots that reached up to her thigh. Staring at her, I had one of those moments wishing I looked like her.
Grandpére Arkade nodded at my father, who then picked the man up, rather harshly, helping the man stand so he could look up at my grandfather.
"Tell me, Jean," he said, "how does it feel when you question authority? Hurts, doesn't it? What do you think, Rene?"
"Yes, sir," my father said quietly. He never spoke too loudly.
My grandfather nodded, pleased with my father's response. "Now, Jean, I am authority, you obviously know this, at least I hope you do."
The man nodded, grunting as if the simple action hurt.
"Now, I heard some of my vampires were sold to the Vampire Hunter Society, and that makes me upset, Jean." Grandpére Arkade walked, slowly, to the man.
The Vampire Hunter Society was a group of very few, brave humans who did not like that we had taken over the world. It was rumored that they formed in the middle of the fifteenth century, and their founders consisted of a priest, a very rich and very smart man, and a vampire. They would never admit that there was a vampire in their group, but how else could one explain their knowledge of how to destroy them? Their mission was to rid the world of the vampires, and bring the humans into power once again, and they planned on doing this by killing our kind very discreetly. To have heard that someone had "sold" some vampires to them meant that either the society was getting desperate, or they weren't real members of the society.
"Tell me, Jean, what could one gain from selling vampires to the enemy?"
"Please," the man whimpered. "I was desperate. My family hasn't eaten in days."
"There are other ways to fix that problem, and you chose the wrong one. Am I right, Theme?"
"Whatever," sighed my aunt. Grandpére Arkade glared at her, and she pushed up from the wall. "Just let me kill him, please." She whimpered just as the man had.
"In a minute, dear. I still have to prove my point."
"No!" cried the man. "Please. I'm sorry. It'll never happen again."
My father threw his fist into the man's stomach, making the man double over and cough up blood. My father let the man go so he fell to the ground and curled up into a fetal position, holding his stomach. At the sight of the blood, my breath caught in my throat, and soon the smell of blood replaced the scentless oxygen. I had to hold onto the doorframe to keep from falling. It smelled so good, and it took every restraint I could muster not to go in and drink his blood. I was always so baffled to why blood affected me this way, but I would not dare speak of it to anyone. I may not be a vampire, but I knew it was still dangerous for me to feel this way.
My aunt walked up to the man and pulled his head up, so he was looking right at me. I knew she did not do this on purpose, and the look of pain on the man's face made me feel as if this was a show just for me. I became excited, and could not wait for what would happen next. He opened his eyes, and looked at me. Our eyes locked for a second, and I smiled at him, just slightly, to let him I was enjoying the show.
"A child," he gasped, and the three adult vampires looked at me. I dropped my smile almost immediately, but I knew my father saw by the wide eyed surprised expression he gave me. I knew then that I was in trouble. I wasn't supposed to be seen by anyone, for if anyone else outside of my little family knew what I was, they would surly kill me.
Grandpére Arkade laughed. "I guess you'd have to kill him now, Theme."
My aunt placed her hands on the man's head, covering his ears. My father walked to me, and blocked my view of what happened next, though I was able to hear just a quick pop, and a tearing noise. My imagination told me his head had been torn off, though it happened much slower in my mind.
My father grabbed my arm and led me away from the room just as I began to smell more blood. He pulled me down the hallway, and didn't let go until we had turned many corners, gone up some stairs, and we were in front of my room. I cherished the touch, even if it was hard on my arm, but it was more than my father usually gave me. He let go and kneeled down in front of me, careful not to touch me anymore.
"What did you see?" he asked, his eyes moving from one of my eyes to the next in a fast motion. I never understood why people did that. It wasn't as if my other eye would show anything different than the one they were just looking at.
"Nothing, Father. I had just gotten there." I was smart enough to not tell him I had seen almost the whole show. "I heard a scream. Why is that man in trouble?"
Sighing, my father stood up. "He made Arkade angry," he answered indifferently. I knew he wouldn't have any emotion in this, considering my grandfather became angry quite often.
"How?"
"Why do you need to know?" he asked me, not unkindly. "Really, Lillian, you shouldn't ask so many questions. Curiosity isn't becoming of a young lady."
"I am sorry, Father," I whispered as he opened the door to my room. The room was dark, and I didn't want him to hide me in there for another night. "Can I go play outside?"
"You know you can't do that."
"But why?"
"Lillian, you'll do as I say. Go play with your dolls, and I'll have Theme bring you dinner." He glanced down at me for a moment, and back to the room, switching on the light.
I followed his gaze, and glowered at the many dolls scattered about. I did not want to go back in there. I wanted to go back downstairs and watch the man be beaten some more. I knew that was not a possibility, even if my father did love me. If I showed any signs that I liked what I saw, I would have been killed; my father probably would have liked to be rid of me.
Sighing, I walked to the middle of my room, and turned and looked back at my father. I gently set my bear on the ground, leaning it against my leg, and held out my arms to my father.
"Can I have a hug?"
His jaw clenched, and he blinked twice, fast. He closed the door and I heard him quickly walk away. I smiled at his discomfort, knowing full well he was not going to give me a hug.
I bent down and picked up one of my dolls, and looked at her, the scene of what I just witnessed still in my mind. I grabbed my doll's hair, and pulled as hard as I could, wrenching the head free from the body, the same "pop" that I heard when my father led me away. I dropped the body and head, a small smile on my face, and picked up my bear, and hugged him tightly.
It was a few days after this incident that I talked with my Grandpére about what I had seen. He explained, carefully, that the Society was becoming braver. They were paying people to turn in vampires, and they were killing without mercy. He had decided that something must be done, and he didn't want me in the middle of it all. He had sent out my father and other strict enforcers to take care of the situation. What he meant by that, I was not quite sure at the time.
Many years after, my father returned, but he felt it was still dangerous for me to be in France. Without another word, he arranged for me to be sent to Japan, to live with distant relatives of my mother.
