I went to their parlor room, half the size of the Derosiers', and twice as gloomy. There were no maids and Elsie herself made the tea, and when the water boiled she came in with a wooden tray, set it aside when she put the teapot and cups down. They were slightly chipped.

"Well, what happened to the clan? I want to hear all about how you escaped—did that human help you?" Elsie spoke as she sat down.

"Yes," I whispered. "But Agnes killed herself. Suicide. She wouldn't tell me where you or Edith were."

"Then how did you know? Was it perhaps from the butterflies?" She poured me some tea from the teapot. I scrutinized the dark orange-red liquid.

"Yes."

"Well, it did the same for me. That's why I felt so close to Lorelei—she was the previous Queen. Oh, she was so beautiful. But she didn't commit suicide, Edith saved her twice, or should I say stopped her? She became old and lost her mind before she could, and she died in that dungeon. Remember? No, of course you do." She had on an insensitive smile.

"Yes," I repeated myself. It was as though I were playing a game.

"Well, I remember too. To this day, even. Lorelei's body, decomposing quickly as vampires did. I saw her black hair fall out in clumps as they tossed it out in the forest in the back. Skin peeling. I saw it although I was Queen by that time because I was pregnant with you. Being pregnant gave me so much freedom. They treated me like a real queen." She stopped and drank her tea, and I noted it was safe to drink.

"I heard. And I was female, too," I said.

"Yes!" Elsie put her cup down before she clasped her hands together and held it to her chest. "What a dream it was! I could be freed. She—Edith promised I freedom after I had a female child. My first son was killed. I saw him killed, thrown into fire. It was such anguish—I couldn't protect him as a mother! Don't you see, you might think I abandoned you, but I simply couldn't abandon Anthony!"

"I am not mad you chose him," I said, which was a lie, "but you never came back for me. For us—Sabine and Cecile and even Primrose!"

"What could I do? Forgive me, Margery, I wanted Anthony and I to live here, quiet and nice lives, acting as sister and brother, Anthony working in a factory as I lived off animal blood. It's really a small and decrepit house—I saw how you looked at it in disgust, but it's important to me."

"Playing pretend?" I pushed the cup away, already containing so much into me in order to not throw it to the floor. I couldn't drink it. I couldn't even swallow. The smell of animal blood floated in the air and I realized why it was that dark pomegranate color.

"It's not pretend! Come, Margery, we can be the happy family we have all dreamed of!"

"No!" I shouted. "I know, you never even told Anthony about me! I know he doesn't care, that's what's cruel! Did you really care about him, or was it escape that mattered? Where's Edith?"

She recoiled as I yelled, and covered one ear, she pulled back only to sigh.

"You're such a rowdy child. I can't imagine you turned out like this, I thought you were more mature. As a child you took care of Sabine, and you seemed so strong. Why don't you believe your own mother?"

"I don't know, maybe it's your smile. Maybe that tone you talk in. I learned that too, the soft way words are emphasized and the tears and body language. You're acting."

Elsie drank her tea, drank and drank with her neck bobbing as she swallowed until I saw liquid trickle down her chin and onto her white shirt hemmed with white lace, all too young for her.

She put down her cup soundlessly and when she looked at me I felt nostalgia at the cold eyes I saw, those that looked at Lorelei and Edith.

"I killed Edith," she uttered, and that might've been the only truth she said to me.

"How?" I asked.

"She wouldn't let me leave—I cared for you until you were what, three? Four? I realized she had tricked me, so one night I got poison and threatened to kill you. Of course Edith panicked and begged me to forgo the idea, and I said I would escape with her. She agreed and finally, without Agnes's knowing, we left. Only there wasn't a ship waiting for us. They had left, and I strangled Edith before she was weak and pushed her into the waters. The damn woman just wouldn't die. She grabbed the threshold to the dock and I stamped on her hand madly, because I couldn't get away with that. Finally, as her hold tightened and another hand came up, I took a knife and I cut the fingers, one by one up to the knuckles, and then heard the splash that signaled my freedom."

Her lips were so red they disgusted me as they smiled, and her face more innocent than me, yet those words she said made me feel.

"And before you ask, Margery, I didn't look for Anthony. I didn't name him, I didn't know him until I found him. He is a naive boy, he only knew I was imprisoned in my old clan. His father didn't care for him so he was grateful for a mother like him. He works and we live in this place, maybe it's pitiful to you, but to sleep at night knowing there's no dungeon and voting and Elders, most of all, no Edith, gave me comfort you wouldn't even imagine. Or can you, after you saw Agnes kill herself? Tell me how it happened, in detail. Did she jump from the tower and break her neck, or perhaps hung herself? Drank some strange poison and turn blue? Or did she cut her wrists?"

Her voice grew more and more high pitched with excitement and I covered my mouth.

I loathed Agnes for all she subjected me to, but the mother I had lived in my mind was—she scared me more than both.

"Oh, are you going to retch?" she asked as though she were a caring mother, holding a hand to pat my back until I slapped it away. "I thought you'd understand me, Margery. That was quite hurtful."

"I'm done. I want to go back."

She grinned, now showing her teeth, eyes still bright and alive with something I couldn't describe besides carnivorous cruelty.

"You're a child. Do you really want this to be it? I thought you would want a hug from your long lost mother, maybe to even live with us and be part of our frugal family."

"No."

"But you searched for me, and I sense sadness more than anger—you wanted to find an answer, didn't you? You can't move on—"

"No!" I shouted.

"—even with that human, you aren't with him, are you? Is he a temporary toy? A bodyguard? Or, perhaps, you like him but he doesn't return the feelings and only sees you as a specimen?"

"We love each other." I said my first sentence in a while to her, but my eyes couldn't meet those eyes.

"I was happy with men once, but they never rescued me or my first son. Anthony was hardly taken care of by his father, who forgot me. I always thought you'd love Sabine."

"What?" I looked at her and she laughed.

"Oh, I stepped on a landmine, didn't I? I knew. She was always affectionate towards you and saw me as her savior. Well, I suppose she is happier living in ignorance than you are now." She sighed. "Those girls are so naive. In my time many girls became secret lovers, but we were forced to bear child then die. Poor Lorelei, I'm sure she had a fancy for another girl, but she was killed. All of them, killed, and Edith, too, by my very hands."

She reached out and before I could jump she grasped my shoulders tightly, still grinning.

"These hands saved many of you, you know. Would you really have preferred me to be a weak mother and have you subject to her wrath or a false mother who is a murderer? Let me tell you, I know my answer."

"You're no mother at all."

I pulled back from her cold touch and felt frenzied when I ran out of the room as she stood there calmly, even when I broke apart that last eye contact.

I was there in the hallway when another door opened to show Uriel. He seemed confused by what happened and ran towards me.

"What happened?"

"We're leaving," I said.

Understanding from my tone, Uriel took my hat from the hanger in the front door and ran after me out of that house.

Despite the rain pattering on my face I remembered to etch it into my mind, the dark windows and broken gable. The sad door without paint and unattached doorbell.

"I'll never be back," I said to Uriel, then ran out to the streets. He followed.

We ran like that for a part of the night, just the stones on my heels and rain everywhere, occasional lightning and thundering. I didn't look back, but when Uriel's hand grasped mine, I held it tightly.

Tightly, because he meant much more.

Tightly, because he helped me meet my mother.

Tightly, because he was naive too but perfect the way he was, he didn't understand me and yet he wanted to be by my side, he loved me even when I despised him so strongly I was ready to throw him away—and I will again.

But for the meantime, we held hands tightly and ran in the midst of rain and tears.