The estate was surrounded by high, overgrown hedges that blocked out the surrounding scenery and most of the building itself. Theodore thought the entry looked like an adventure book illustration. He thought those sort of intricate patterns and strange architecture were just fancy on the artist's part. Who knew it was real? Stripes of creamy marble adorned the edges of everything and inside dizzying mosaics glinted in the lantern light. Patricia spoke to the carriage's coachman in an elaborate tongue that only remotely reminded Theodore of the Litan he'd studied. The man eyed the lot of them strangely with his dark eyes, wisps of heat flickering off his shoulders and making his head seem like a brilliant wick. The scent of the blood in his veins was faintly discernible. It had been so long since they had fed...

      Theodore dropped his bags and walked briskly around the building, pushing away the arms of the lush shrubbery that pawed at the putty colored walls. He thought himself covered in a fine layer of sweat, before he remembered that was now impossible. Without the drying sun, the cooling air was that humid. He touched a clay wall in passing, still warm from the sun. Or was his hand that cold?

      He walked through spinach colored greenery that rustled gently as he passed, the soft ground giving under his hard-soled shoes.
      It really was quiet. Not like the Kellgren estate, which was, he discovered upon death, much noisier than previously thought. No creaks and groans of rotting wood beams en route to their eventual collapse, no muffled false gaiety trapped behind heavy doors, no screams... He walked aimlessly, realizing with some relief that no one would come for him. The ground became softer and softer, until his feet sunk in quite awkwardly, and he had to use a bit of an eerie power to hover just above it in order to continue at a normal pace. He hated to use those wicked tricks. He just knew the more you used them, the worse off you'd become. He had to always remember that he was good, no matter what others did around him.
      The gentle susurrus of the rustling leaves soon gave way to a now extremely familiar sound.

      The ocean glimmered blackly and disappeared into a vague haze in the distance. Though with its share of rot, the scent of this breeze seemed more pure than the waters of Glenland. No heavy scent of ship's oil and rusting metal. He plopped down in his finely woven trousers straight on to the moist sand. The roaring water blotted out even his sharp senses and the even the dark seemed somehow darker.
      Could he really find peace here? He let his mind become blank, and for once was thankful for the stillness of death.
      For some indeterminable time he rested, enjoying the new found solitude. He finally stood, feeling for a moment that he was just another piece of driftwood being lifted by an unseen wave. His hunger was an annoying sensation, gnawing at him and making his limbs feel stiff and heavy. He looked ahead to an odd shape in the distance, and walked towards it. He had nearly come upon it before he recognized it.
      A dock. A slightly rotted, but still intact dock. Better yet, bobbing near at hand was a slightly mildewed but sleek sailboat. He looked about, no humans in sight. --But surely someone would miss it. The ropes that moored it were strung with seaweed like God's Day tinsel. The mast was folded down, and the sails were rolled neatly, but covered in a dank film and bird droppings. He lingered there watching the boat rock gently, almost wanting to just touch it.
      Silly.. like a child.
He tore himself away and returned to his new home, feeling like he carried the sea's breeze in his hair.

He picked up his luggage, which still sat where he'd left it in front of the entryway. Another carriage had arrived, and stout men were lugging unwieldy and terribly expensive statues. Inside, a conversation of several voices was easily heard.

      An animated young couple spoke in that same unintelligible language as the coachman. Kellgren looked bored but Patricia seemed to actually be contributing. Kellgren looked up as Theodore entered.
      “Patricia, tell them he is your... brother.”
      “Este é o meu irmão, Theodore.” Patricia spoke to the couple and gestured to him.
      "Oh uh, isso é bom.” The young man smiled with tight lips and looked back to Elizabeth, “Então, o que Senhora Kellgren pensar sobre a música em Glenland?” She rolled her eyes over to Patricia and looked expectant.
Patricia spoke to her wearily, “How do you like the music in Glenland?”
      “Oh it's just atrocious these days. All brassy mechanisms and I can't make any sense of it.” Kellgren waved her hands around in flapping gestures. The young couple looked at each other just briefly, and then to Patricia.
      Patricia furrowed her eyebrows and said, “Uhh... É ótimo. Temos um fonógrafo em algum lugar, você poderia ter uma escuta...”
      "--Say! Have you met Horacio Marel?" Kellgren interrupted, "...Anyone? Well I'm his friend, you know... He's famous. I think..."

Theodore left to his room. He had only a single trunk to unpack, and he was already well familiar with its useless contents. He laid on his flat, thin bed and stared at the intricate ceiling tiles as the disjointed but cheery conversation echoed through the estate. Eventually it became quiet, and Patricia came by and leaned on his door frame.

      “That's the son of the police chief. They're very polite. You should meet them next time.”
      “I don't speak that language.”
      “It's not hard to learn... Anyway, would you help me unpack?”

      The night grew short, but the estate was still and their labors effortless. Theodore carried and rearranged immense marble busts like they were stacks of linens. Patricia gave him a small smile, and they worked silently, but there was a friendly mood. She handed him a pile of clothing to hang up, and he noticed a familiar lace trim.

      “That fancy old dress...” he smiled, remembering when this intricate gown she'd shown him long ago, “--it goes in your room then?”

She looked blank.

      “Oh that. It doesn't matter.” she turned her head back to her task.

***

      Once he'd gotten over the exotic décor, he found this estate to have a rather simple layout. The rooms were smaller and sparsely furnished. Kellgren's complaints about such were often heard through the thin walls. The previous owners had sold off her antique furnishings after she'd forgotten her mortgage for a few decades. The living areas were within the same building, and there were a few external buildings such as an unused barn and servant's quarters. A central section of the estate had been finished to be like unto a common, modern Glennish mansion. Theodore did not like this section, it was uncanny and strange to him. The walls were paneled in an odd wood that was ruddy and had convoluted whorls and warps in the grain. He felt as though he saw eerie faces in them, and that they moved and changed as he watched them. The floor's rugs were thick and scratchy, the drapes covered with greasy dust. It was like a parody of his former life, exaggerated and distorted, and all wrong. Like a bad dream. He already felt like he drifted through a never ending sickly nightmare. Even when he woke, he found himself dreaming the same thing...

      Each evening as he climbed out of bed, he found a goblet of blood-- cold and sludgy generally. He couldn't think about it, that gruesome offering. It kept him alive, and kept him from seeing the torment that must have happened when it was created.
      Whatever torment did occur, it seemed to not happen in the estate. The thinner walls could not contain the wicked acts so easily. Theodore often found himself alone as the older vampires went to the town. He never went along, though Patricia encouraged him.
      "There are many young people, modern young people. You should meet them and talk."

      Did she really mean just 'talk?' --and how could he? He couldn't stand to be around humans in any case. The smell of their blood and their swirling auras just reminded him that he was not as they were. It just reminded him of what he had lost.

      The young couple returned, and he was glad to see them still alive. Soon, they brought friends, and they would often sit in the parlor room and chat with Patricia and Kellgren.

      Patricia seemed to enjoy herself, but the youths usually had their attention directed to Elizabeth. Some of them were better actors than others, but it was easy to figure out that they had some idea that she was outrageously rich, and possibly a source for a job or other connection. Or maybe they liked the idea of an international salon, though the conversation did not flow freely. At any rate, it seemed like a good thing at the time, that they could occupy her attention.

***

      One evening, Patricia suddenly wanted to go for a walk with Theodore. She had a strange, nervous energy, and it had been so long since she'd approached him for something frivolous. He was hesitant, but soon they were out on the sandy beach.

They had paused, and he looked off unconsciously. She followed his gaze, and saw what he looked to so longingly.

      “Ah that old boat... Want to go for a sail?” she asked.
      “What? But.. I don't know how. --and doesn't it belong to someone?”
      “He's dead. There's no one to care.”
      “How do you know th--”

She gave him a knowing look, and he was quiet.

      He was a little scared at first. The night seemed more black out on the water, and the ocean roared and pushed at their small boat aggressively. He feared falling off, or what creatures lurked in the waters below. In time, he remembered that he had the right to be a little more fearless than before. Certainly, he should never fear drowning. Patricia showed him the proper form and corrected his moves, just like when she'd taught him to play tennis.
      “Theodore, I'm sorry I haven't been able to help you.” she said, not quite making eye contact.
He wondered how he'd never noticed the way her eyes glinted green in the dark.
     She continued,  “--When I look at you, I am reminded of my failure. I couldn't help you. I couldn't help myself. There is nothing I can do and it makes me feel terrible. I'm sorry if I have left you alone too often.”
He nodded slowly. There really was nothing they could do, was there?
      She continued, “One day you can be free, and you can do as you see fit. You have to work hard to become strong. I know that it's scary and you'd rather hide away. The quicker you become strong though, the sooner you can leave us.”
      “I don't want to leave you...” he protested feebly.
She smiled bitterly, “...Then you are crazy.”

***

      The waves rolled the small boat along, and the wind on even a relatively calm night was fierce. With his new found strength, it was easily overcome, and it felt like he had power if just in a very small way. He could be a part of the vast ocean, and the estate was but a distant shape. Perhaps freedom was not so very far off. Patricia did not seem to relax though, and sometimes looked back to the estate with a watchful eye.

      She left ahead of him, telling him to enjoy himself for a while longer. She had shown him some basics of sailing, and he found them natural to understand. She transformed into a great white sea bird, and flapped off across the water to home. Would he ever grow used to such unnatural happenings?

      After a bit he became nervous about straying too far, and returned to the dock. As he walked through the gently rustling woods, he noticed strange scents in the air. Blood certainly, in greater quantities than normal, but something else. As he stepped inside the entryway, he heard the distant sound of weeping. Blood, so much blood... Everywhere.

      He ran for his room.

***

      The day came, and the day passed, and nothing happened. Though the weeping continued, apparently the suffering of several. Men and women. No amount of pillows over his head could cover up the sounds of torment, no matter how hushed they were.

      Somehow, he was able to sleep, and he awoke to silence.

      He crept out into the darkened hallway, no one had lit the lamps tonight. The bloody scent remained, but was considerably reduced, and masked by the smell of vinegar and ammonia. Soiled rags soaked in a bucket near the kitchen. There was a rustling in the parlor.

      As he turned to flee, he placed the strange scents. Vampires. Multiple, unfamiliar vampires. Patricia caught him as he dashed around a corner, and stared into his face with an intense expression.
      “Don't you scream. They are just like you. Nothing to be scared of. I don't want you to scare them either. Go outside.”

      He laid on the deck of the boat, floating aimlessly until the sun came up. He stayed, feeling the excruciating pain of the direct sunlight, wishing it could scorch him to ashes. But it didn't.

***

      He returned, weakened, dragging his feet and feeling the edge of hunger madness approaching. He found a party going on at the estate.

      Goblets of blood were balanced on every surface, six figures were arranged in the parlor in an imitation of a gallant salon. The conversation was one-sided though, and only one person was enjoying herself. Kellgren laughed and chattered in Glennish to a numb looking young man while the other young vampires sat posed in various uncomfortable positions. They all turned to stare at Theodore.
      “Theodore,” Kellgren said with a bemused expression, “these are your new brothers and sisters! I thought we could use help around the estate.”

There were only three bedrooms...Where would they sleep? Ten eyes looked at him, pleading silently.

      “Leo? Leeno? Whatever you're called..." Kellgren gestured to the boy with curly hair, "I'm sure your father will be very pleased to know our new arrangement. I would be delighted to have a stronger tie to the community.”
      The mop haired young lad stared at her like she was a talking armoire, completely unrelatable.
      “Horrível... pesadelo...” he muttered.
Patricia approached behind Theodore, and touched his elbow. He went with her, wordlessly.
      "I want you to understand there was nothing I could do about this. She wanted them, and I could not convince her otherwise. I didn't want things to be this way, but there is nothing I can do."
      He closed his eyes, "You say that a lot. ...Sorry."
      She shook her head, "You shouldn't be sorry if it's true."

***

      Afterwards, Theodore found more occupants to bump into in the estate. He learned their names, Romicia, Lino, Omar, Tabitha, Faisal... In time they warmed to each other. Though he was slow to pick up their language, and they seemed too out of sorts to attempt to learn Glennish at first. Perhaps they preferred to not understand whatever the monstrous tyrant spoke to them.
      The youths spent their nights out with said tyrant, and came home with stained clothing and traumatized eyes. One night as Theodore unmoored his ship, he caught sight of the two girls, Romicia and Tabitha, standing together on the beach. He waved to them, but they did not approach. He could see their glinting eyes watching him as he sailed. What were they thinking about?
      Omar and Faisal were rarely seen, perhaps they roamed the town at night. They kept their heads low when they were spotted. Lino and Romicia, who seemed to be a couple, found themselves the unfortunate favorites of Kellgren, and were hardly able to leave her side. They were her constant companions and sat at hand like unmoving dolls in any room she was in.

      There were few chores to do in this smaller estate, but Patricia made up unnecessary improvements for them to assist with. They painted the unused barn, they cleaned the rugs several times a week, they papered the halls with floral patterns, the garden statues gleamed with constant polishing. Theodore wondered if they hand trimmed each blade of grass outside. He helped sometimes, though no one asked him to.

      One evening he helped Romicia and Lino clean the windows. They were older than him, by a year or two perhaps. They reminded him of the older students at his school, though they were not rude to him and didn't scowl or tease. He left to fetch a bucket of water, and he heard them whisper...
      “Há um veleiro. O menino loiro pode ...” --Romicia's voice.
As he returned, Lino, the curly haired boy looked at him questioningly.
      “You like... Senhora Kellgren?” he asked slowly, in Glennish. Romicia looked horrified that he was saying anything. Theodore didn't know what sort of expression he must have made in reaction, but young couple looked relieved. Lino smiled and nodded.
      “Haha... Certo...” he muttered and the three returned to work, with a suddenly more congenial mood.

      The situation improved, at least it seemed. The new family members grew a bit more accustomed to the horror, or at least, became better at putting on pleasant expressions. Kellgren purchased a small stand-up piano that Tabitha played on some evenings, with considerable skill. Lino was quite athletic, and fashioned an improvised tennis court in the garden and had to be reprimanded for using vampire powers unfairly. He and Romicia eventually became a bit more personable, though they never regained the confidence they'd had before. They learned some Glennish phrases, and were even able to poke fun at Theodore good-naturedly. They even convinced him to go to the town.

      He was surprised to see that the town, Ancada, was more modern than he'd expected. Kellgren spoke of it as though it were hardly civilized. The young vampires visited a roughly-hewn theater, and watched the same film several times a week. Theodore wondered how old Lino thought he was, because as they watched, he would point out objects and whisper the Koroman word like he was teaching a baby to speak. It was fun to be a part of a group though, and as they passed humans on the streets at night, he knew that they appeared to just be a crowd of youths, nothing special. Not monsters at all.
      They asked a lot of questions about Glenland, until it became apparent that it was not just curiosity. How much does it cost to rent a house? How long is the trip? Are there many people? How hard is it to get a job?
      They didn't need to explain to him. They couldn't all fit on that tiny sailboat, though. And enough blood for six vampires for weeks on end? Would a sailboat even travel that far? What if they were lost at sea? They were hopeful though, after all they had eternity to plan. Lino's father knew many people, and what if they just stowed away on the ferry? They knew though, even if they did, a tireless white bird would come after them, no matter where they went. They had to hope though, it was all they had.
      Even Patricia seemed in a better mood with the young vampires around. She smiled sometimes, and encouraged Theodore to spend time with them. He felt guilty for having been so fearful and dour compared to the vitality of these other teenagers, who surely spent every miserable day sleeping in Kellgren's room. Sleeping, if they were lucky...
      Yet they smiled and carried on with their talents and hobbies as though it was nothing special. Theodore wondered how he could be such a scared little child, when no one was even paying attention to him. He could spend his nights sailing, and his days alone. He didn't even have to get his own blood. What was there to be afraid of? Yet... remembering that Kellgren walked these halls, her voice, catching an unexpected glimpse of her.. and he remembered the swing of the axe. How could he ever forget? It was the bookend to every dream.
      His new friends helped him forget, though, if just for a brief time. He wondered if they ever would have given him the slightest consideration if they weren't forced into the same terrible situation together. He had never felt a part of a group before, and these were rather metropolitan and worldly young people. Omar and Faisal were the sons of a general, and traveled to Grauland every summer. They were shy though, particularly Omar, and took a long time to become comfortable around new people. Tabitha was a talented musician, and wore her hair in a masculine style. She insisted that it was a popular fashion in Bribeaux, and Romicia teased her, saying that it was an elaborate ruse to make her look silly. Then of course, Romicia herself and Lino. Theodore could imagine that they would be the most popular students, if they went to school. They were the sort to go out of their way to make people smile, and teased everyone mercilessly.

      Then one evening, all of them were gone.

Patricia roused Theodore from his bed.
      “Did Lino say they were going somewhere?” she asked, a tinge of panic in her voice.
      “No?”
She stalked away, lifting her head and trying to listen.
      “What is it?” Theodore asked, following behind her.
      “I didn't think... What could she...” Patricia said to herself, as she walked swiftly down the halls.

She would find nothing. Kellgren too, gone. The night wore on. They sat in the darkened parlor and the hours passed.

      “Olá a todos!” Kellgren entered the estate after briefly bumbling around outside, a strange smile on her face. She carried heavy jugs, sloshing with blood, their tops crudely sealed with candle wax. She plopped them down on an end table and cracked her craggy knuckles. Patricia gave her an uncomprehending look.
      “Como você está hoje?” Elizabeth gestured with her bony hands as though she were performing an impressive parlor trick. Her accent actually seemed decent.
      “What did you... I don't understand...” Patricia stared, shaking her head slowly.
      “Oh well.” Kellgren grinned her skull-like grin, “I'm sure you'll figure it out. I didn't know if it would work, but he was right! How funny.” She turned and ambled away, whistling an unfamiliar tune. Patricia gave a suspicious look to Theodore, and leapt from her chair.
      “What did you do?” she followed after Kellgren, who regarded her with a bemused expression. “--Where are the children?”
      “Haha... you thought of them as children? Well, they've served their purpose.”

Patricia shook her head in disbelief.
      Kellgren shrugged, “See I knew this is how you would react. So boring. It's really quite amazing, the things you learn! I would have liked your help, it was so hard to get them in the same place.”
      “No...!” Patricia slowly moved her hands to her chest in a fearful gesture.
      "I thought they would be more stout," Kellgren smoothed her puffy hair, "It was so easy though. I must have really scared them, hahaha...."
      Patricia dove past her and ran outside.

Kellgren smiled eerily at Theodore.
      “What do you know how to do, son? I heard you are quite accomplished with sailing these days. I never did take the time to learn that...”

She stepped forward, still smiling, and offered a skeletal hand. He noticed her fingernails were rimmed darkly red.

He ran.

Outside the wind was strong and blew the stench of the low tide in gasping gusts. He heard a sharp cry from the garden. Through the tennis court with its fishing net knocked loose and blowing free, around the freshly white barn... A figure lurched from the darkness and blew past him like an unholy spectre. Patricia stalked back to the house, not stopping to explain. What had she seen? He crept forward, leaning on the smooth barn wall. Here the yard was more unkempt and the grass waved in the wind. He saw an unmoving, bare foot, poking up from the tall grass. Then he saw another. And a hand. A knee.

      He had never looked directly upon a dead body. Not like this, anyway. Their faces were almost unrecognizable in their lack of animation. Their bodies were devoid of heat, as cold as the earth around them. The dead bodies of five teenagers, their chests crudely cut open in gaping, bloodless wounds. She had drained them first.

      He was already hiding in the barn before he noticed the shouting, carried in on the roar of the wind.

      “How could you?!”
      “They were already dead, what does it matter?”
      “What does it matter?! They were your children!”
      “Haha, you keep calling them that. Don't be so literal. There is more to family than simple blood.”
      “What did you do to them? Why?!”
      “Patricia, it's like you live another life! We're immortal, yes, but haven't you ever wanted to be someone else? It's like endless dreams! Imagine, they were just simple savages, what must it be like if they were real people? Dignitaries, artists...! It's so simple, I wish I'd discovered it years ago. Poetic too, don't you think? The heart really contains the soul, isn't that beautiful? ..Though it take quite a lot of chewing. So many too. I'm stuffed. It's easier after you eat the first one though. -I'm so familiar with this area now! Did you know that there is a nice little cove down the way?”
      “Unforgivable! I—I...”
      “You should clean it up, the corpses will attract vermin now.”

Theodore willed himself unconscious.

***

      “Theodore, wake up...”
Patricia shook him in darkness, as he lay collapsed in a pile of hay.
      “--Promise me you will stay here, no matter what.”
What was she wearing? She smelled like old cloth. He couldn't focus on anything.
      “Tell me!” she shouted, shaking him again.
      “Yes...!” he stammered.
      “Good... If I don't return tonight, you need to go to the town. Don't let Kellgren take you anywhere. Go to the town and go... anywhere. Be a good boy.”

      Did she kiss him on the forehead, or did he imagine it? She left in a rustling of lacy cloth. He laid back in the hay and stared into the darkness.

      He smelled the smoke before he noticed the roar of the flames. Had he thought it was the ocean? He peered out the heavy barn door, and saw the flickering orange beyond the trees.
      What if he had stayed behind? How different would everything have been if he had obeyed Patricia? He couldn't stand back for this, however powerless he had been all this time. How could he not try to help?
      Perhaps the estate wouldn't have burned so fiercely, even being doused with fuel, if they hadn't papered the clay halls. The simple rooms would be untouched after it was all over, but the parlor blazed. Those dusty curtains were thick and burned long and slow like dry logs, and the odd wood panels roasted and warped. Theodore nervously crept through the halls, his bravery on the sea did not apply to flames, which could destroy even a powerful vampire. Where was she?!
      He heard the clanking of metal and followed it. From around the corner, he saw only the dress at first, and in a moment of confusion, imagined that it had come to life and drifted down the hall like the robes of a ghost.

      That old dress, the dress of royalty. The dress he had wondered about as a child. Had Patricia shown him it then, thinking that he would understand who she was? Later, he would know that it was a coronation gown that had never been worn. Until this night. And it would never be worn again.
      If she noticed him, she made no sign of it. She clanked off, with the fiercest look she had ever had. He noticed then, that the iron suits of armor that lined this hall were missing their swords, every last one.