We had a proper funeral this time, after two days of preparing.

Or as close as we could, in the vampire cemetery with a vampire who prepared a coffin. They said they wouldn't bury the body so I believed the coffin had been used many times as I could smell heavy death from it.

We placed her in a pink dress instead of white, barefoot, but with accessories. Her hair was more and more silvery, and I suppose the dye nearly entirely came off because in the evening, when the sun only partially went down, she looked like Cecile from the castle.

The Cecile always fixated on her white hair and insecure due to it. I wished I had hugged her more back then.

But Gregoire suffered the most. He carried Manon, who cried loudest, but Lark, Adalyn, and Bernadette were tied for second. Veronique also fell to her knees as she cried, Laurel helping her out, and even she she'd tears, surprisingly. I noticed many things, but the sorrow in me was different.

I didn't only love her or saw her as an important friend or a very kind vampire.

I grew up with this kind-natured vampire. I saw her as a child, always telling Sabine and I to stop talking in our bed at night, making us talk to her until she said she wouldn't reply. And even then, she would reply in a few seconds, then beg us to sleep already.

I saw Cecile, beloved by the children, teach them how to cook, how to peel potatoes or cut with a knife safely. And I would watch before I was Queen and laugh, telling them it was good I wouldn't do suck jobs, and they would make faces at me.

And when I was thrown in the dungeon, only Cecile and Sabine ever came to offer me water and food. Sometimes she couldn't, and she wouldn't meet my eye from guilt. I thought she wasn't an ally anymore.

But the human came, and Cecile was suddenly rosy-faced and talking as I'd never seen. I was sincerely happy she found Gregoire. I was happy I got to hear her sing with her angelic voice, I got to see her married and find someone she treasure, have a child and a purpose she wanted to carry out.

Cecile was perhaps even closer to be than Sabine.

But I didn't know she would die first out of us.

We placed flowers in her coffin, white lilies, and soon the vampires who held it for us told us that was all—I heard them whisper she would begin decomposing. I remembered Agnes and knew I didn't want Gregoire to see, and Laurel, too, replied it would be enough, thank you.

We headed back home. As we walked, Veronique drifted off, tapping my shoulder so I followed.

"You never told me your husband was a half," I said when we were a few feet behind the silent group.

"I thought you wouldn't know. Uriel told you, didn't he?"

"I will carry out my promise and leave tonight. I don't want to stay somewhere Cecile won't return to."

"I wanted to apologize before then," Veronique said softly. "I didn't think you truly loved Uriel, but when time passed and I saw Cecile and Gregoire, and heard them say good things about you, I thought I might've been wrong. No, I realized it. I want you to reconsider."

"Why?"

"Because that's what Cecile would've wanted."

Tears welled up and I instinctively grabbed the gem between my collarbones, hidden in the black dress I wore.

She was right, but what I said was true.

"I need to learn," I said. "He has no fault, but I am immature. I've wasted a decade in a tower by myself, it's time for me to see the outside world and grow up the hard way. If we ever meet one day maybe we will be together again, but I doubt it. I know such things."

"I am sorry."

Veronique's voice sounded old. Her way of walking, and being in a long black dress, too, made me realize how different she was from Agnes or the Elders, and so much more frail.

"Don't. I've always wanted to leave."

Back home I packed my bag. I only needed one, and I put some dresses and a spare pair of shoes, and lots of money. I decided I'd try and head to a place Veronique recommended.

I heard a rap on my door.

"Come in."

It was Yves, surprisingly.

"I heard, my mother forced you to leave. Don't go."

"Why, Mr.One Quarter?"

"Listen, it's useless trying to leave Uriel!" he said, and although he closed the door behind him, he was still loud.

"He accepted my decision," I replied. "And yes, he will be fine. He will find another girl, a human, or vampire, and start a happy family. I bring death with me. Agnes, Cecile—I can't even mourn here!"

I breathed in and looked at the ceiling light.

"I'm a pretty girl."

"What?" he asked.

I smiled to myself as I thought of that song, holding the purple gem again.

"And I will live,
Pretty day after pretty day,
Waiting for someone
To live this pretty life with me."

Yves closed his eyes before opening it again. It was red. He had been the only one to refrain from crying, taking care of Gregoire and holding Lark's hand, and even Veronique. I smiled and took a step.

"I trust you, Yves. I think you're like me, but only a quarter, and male. You're tough on the outside, takes care of people you care about, and juggle a lot of things. You are a good actor, but most of all—you are kind."

"I am not happy to hear that from you, nor do I care," he said bluntly.

"Well, I think you do. You noticed my actions and came to stop me."

"For Uriel."

"You're the only one I can trust." I held out a hand. "Trust to protect Uriel and Manon in my stead."

He seemed as though he wanted to speak, but then he held my hand and we shook on it.

"Come visit Manon. You're her godmother, I heard."

"I don't believe in God but for Cecile's sake I'll see her again. I don't want to stay too long or see Uriel, so I'll most likely look from afar."

"That's good enough," Yves said. Then, "Should I tell Lark and the other two you left because you found your mother instead of letting them suffer?"

"Yes, please. See, we are similar!" I joked. He rolled his eyes.

"Not at all."

I brought my suitcase and a crossbody purse where I kept some money, and when I hurried down the stairs in my black mourning heels with straps.

It'll be the only shoes I'll be wearing for a while.

***

For the longest time I traveled. I went around the country, and I killed people if they tried to attack or rape me, but their blood tasted like sweat or something similarly gross, so I stopped.

For a short while I caught the eye of a famous director but his demands were absurd; acting and singing lessons every single day. I refused to an actress and ran away, but this time with more fame. I attended some fun high expert parties and met people, as well as vampires skillfully disguised.

That was five years. To a vampire like me it felt like a year. I had broke my promise and returned after five years to see them the day before Christmas.

Veronique passed away and Laurel worked under Yves, who governed the house. He ordered me to sit and eat with them but I wouldn't.

"If Uriel comes it would be awkward!" I hissed.

"He's far away, looking for you," Yves said.

"He's not lying!" Lark said, and brought me to sit. Gregoire and Manon were there, too.

Adalyn and Bernadette were already well known as the beautiful sisters. Adalyn had black hair with white skin and very long lashes and a sharp face. She was a siren, simply put, and she had a seductive luring voice now she was twenty-one.

Bernadette was still twenty but she was also like an otherworldly goddess, face freckled and long pink-orange hair around her face like she came out of a Renaissance painting.

Adalyn had somehow gotten a far better offer than me for a big movie company and began lessons for free. Bernadette got five suitors already, but she was going to go to college like Gregoire and Yves had.

"What do you want to study?" I asked her.

"Maybe why a certain vampire ditched us the day of a funeral," she said sarcastically, obviously still annoyed. "I lost two people that day!"

"Now, now," Yves began, "it was my maman's fault, I am at blame, too."

"No, it's not your fault!" Lark said, doe eyes wide as  she pursed her lips. I felt something was strange among the two.

"Yves, you know you are almost thirty, right? Don't put a hand on Lark or I will rip your lungs out, I know how to, I've tried it on a recent rapist," I warned.

"I will never do anything to Lark! I see her as a child!"

"I'm fifteen!" Lark cried. "And don't say never, maybe when I'm older, Yves?"

"No!" the two of us snapped together.

Lark had changed the most out of the girls, her face was almost a replica of mine when I was younger, but her hair was black and perfectly straight. I felt, for some time, she also looked like Lorelei but I didn't know if she actually had a connection to her. Or maybe it was the only metaphor I could describe for her more eastern face.

Gregoire was warm towards me and apparently constantly visited their house with Manon because it reminded him of Cecile. Manon was five but she was quiet.

Unlike Cecile she had brown hair and a healthy human complexion. She sulked alone in her bobcut and navy dress with frills. She seemed sad. Veronique seemed to have passed away around last summer, and she must've still missed her grandmother figure.

I smiled and reached out as I learned to do with human children these five years. 

"Nice to meet you, Manon, I'm your godmother."

"I don't have one! Don't lie!" She wasn't shy at all, and I recoiled from her shout.

"I am! Your mother Cecile named me your godmother!" I said.

"Well, I don't want you as my godmother!"

"Little brat—" I began, but Yves pulled me back into my chair.

"Sorry, Manon hates anyone bringing up her vampire blood. She's still figuring out her identity," Gregoire said, pouring her more juice. He was spoiling her, I could already tell.

Manon wasn't really sensitive to vampiric topics—she only gave me the evil eye and stuck her tongue out to me for some reason. I was about to flick her in the head but I remembered she was all that was left of Cecile.

But for some reasons, Manon only looked like Gregoire, and her eyes were determined like neither of her parents. I sighed.

"What a pity. Cecile, your mother, was much more beautiful and kind than you."

At this she changed immediately.

"Auntie, you know my mother?"

"It's not auntie," I shouted. "And yes, we grew up together."

"So you are basically auntie," Lark said.

"Hey! You'll be my age in a decade and half!"

"Tell me about my mother!" Manon screeched. I covered my ears, never having had such a chaotic Christmas Eve. 

In the five years I traveled the country I always found a quiet place for Christmas, sometimes staying at hotels with beautiful views, walking among big castle ruins, sometimes going to a lake like what Cecile liked.

I gave Manon a photograph of Cecile. We took it once when Veronique and Yves wanted to make fake identities for us. We were scared of the sudden flash but later it became fun. One photograph Cecile sat at a chair like a queen, but her face was in its usual ease and her hair was silver in the lighting.

That Christmas I told Manon about her mother, all that I remembered. I guess she knew some from Gregoire because she would nod fervently at some parts, but she was mainly quiet and listened with a face that said she was holding in her tears.

I told them all I'd leave and be back sometime, maybe another few years, and I might write to the Derosiers, but I couldn't find a stable place so if they have to contact me in an emergency to have it sent to a post office I'd try and drop by. Of course, though, I told them to not tell Uriel.

I suppose it's be surprisingly to say I returned two years later. I saw Uriel. He was engaged and when I was watching him talk to the girl he was engaged to, who was blushing with her hands folded demurely. I watched from behind a tree, but he saw my hair, I presumed, and suddenly went running after me, but taking off my shoes, I ran faster than him at thirty-four and escaped successfully.

Uriel had cut his hair, but his face and frame were as I remembered.

After seeing him the regret in my heart was undeniable. But still, I breathed the cold September air and decided I couldn't go through and watch married Uriel at Manon's birthday so I didn't go that year.

I returned back to a temporary flat I had rented for a while, and ran my fingers across Yves's letter to me.

Margery,

It's an emergency, so I hope this reaches you in time. Uriel is engaged to the daughter of a well-known book publisher. He says it'll be a good marriage but it's nothing like Cecile and Gregoire, there's a fullness in his eyes. I tried to talk him out of it but he said he was old and grateful someone even wanted him at this point.

I knew he was thinking of you but I couldn't mention it. I asked if he wanted anyway to come to the wedding and he seemed to freeze, because he knew who I was alluding to.

You two annoy me so much. Why am I playing Cupid and spy when you two could simply talk to one another? I'm sick of this, and I'm also sick of Lark trying to seduce me every time Gregoire, Manon, and Lark come to visit. Tell her I'm not a pedophile and her being eighteen makes no difference!

You're welcome,
Yves D.