-Nicolai-

I shut my bedroom door and toss my jacket down on my bed, "I don't know how. I don't! Rozalia, how can I do this?" I plop down in a chair, letting my face fall into my hands.

"We will find a way. We always find a way."
"What do you suggest? All you do is cause pain!"
"Quiet Dmitri! She is among us, lest you forget!"

I get up from the chair, "Oh, I know that!" She walks me over to the mirror and there I see her glaring at me. Without moving her lips or mine, she says, "Right now, Jennifer is playing nice and making things comfortable for Ivy. She has done no harm to her. We know this game, as we have played it all these years."
I shoot my finger at her, "You have played it–Not me."

"Stop splitting hairs you fool! This is a situation we need to keep a close eye on! I am more aware of her lingering around Ivy than you. We must let this play out for now...then we will act when the time is right."
"What do you think I should do in the meantime? Stay in her room? I can't do that." I say.

"As I told her; I will be nearby."
"Who is Ivy to you? You say she reminds you of you but what does that mean? Why can't we just let her go?"

"I'm getting tired of this conversation. How about...I show you your true face?" She curls my lips into a crooked smile and I watch wrinkles slowly begin to spread across my face. I start to pant anxiously as I see age spots filling my forehead and my nose and ears growing larger. "No no no no NO!" She's forcing me to watch this. I'm growing older and older; so old that I'm shaking in the mirror, almost unable to stand anymore.

"Do you think Ivy could love you like this?"
"Stop! Please don't do this to me!" I beg.
"Without me...you could never have her."

Suddenly, I'm back to normal. I blink many times at myself and bring my hands up to feel my face. Gradually, I become very enraged. She's right, and I hate that with a passion. I growl, snatch both sides of the mirror and throw it down, "RAHH!!! DAMN YOU!"

"Dmitri," I hear behind me.
Huffing, I glance back at the door. Corneliu.

"Go to bed...you need sleep. I have been listening to you. I will do what I can to keep Jennifer away from this...girl–Only for you. I cannot do much though–You know that." Still shaking with anger, a tear forms in my eye and rides down my cheek. I am unable to say anything to him. I take in a deep breath and let it out, then slowly pick up the mirror, go clean my hands in my bathroom and take a long hot shower. As the water falls over me, I stare at the wall.

"You will be rewarded..."
"For what?" I sigh.
"I just might let you keep this one."

I shut my eyes with a small twitch of the lips that turns into a smile and I chuckle under my breath, "Your words...do not faze me...one bit."

"Go on and think that. We have a big day tomorrow. I will be good."
"Oh lovely, another sweet lie."

"I don't like your attitude."
"I don't like you." She makes me growl and punch the stone wall, denting it. I gasp to the pain.
"Now go to bed."

I grit my teeth, inhaling deeply.

-Maria-

I look at the clock as Christine returns to the maids' office. It's 6:46am. My stomach is growling–It hurts. I have to eat again...but I can never be fully satisfied. Since night before last, when I had that extremely terrible pain in my eyeteeth, this has been happening to me. It's strange but I think they've grown and they're sharper. I'm most likely exaggerating. This is beginning to feel very unnatural.

"Good morning Maria; I'm here. Wow, why is it so dark in here?" I hear her say as she turns on the light. I don't react–Not even move an inch. But when the light comes on, I immediately flinch and cover my eyes. I can't handle the light without it hurting either. I could've rested them and slept in the small bed in the corner but I can't sleep.

I have been alone in here, staring at the wall ahead of me, eating nonstop as female voices whisper to me from all directions. First, they were not comprehensible but as time went by, they became clearer and clearer to me. They only say one word–'Nicolai'. Since the voices started whispering to me, I feel more and more persuaded to have an even stronger desire to be with him in private; it's so strong that it will be the next thing I do. Nothing is more important. He needs to know I'm the one for him–Not Ivy. If anyone asks where I'm going, I will tell them I have to clean his room.

"Maria, are you ok?" Christine asks, walking around to the front of me. I didn't know she was talking to me. My gaze rises to her face and a gradual smile spreads across mine, "Yes...yes, I'm fine." I stand and walk past her to a storage closet and get a cart. She watches me strangely. "See you later." I say as I leave the room. She doesn't say anything. She is probably wondering why I took the cart because my shift will be over soon.

During my preoccupied walk down the hall, the voices are quieter now, but seem as if they're in my head and no longer in the walls. They would be echoic if they were in the walls. I make a right turn to the elevator, open the doors and go inside. As I close the doors, I hear a woman's faint laugh. I press 3.

The other maids and I have never liked the 3rd floor; it feels so heavy and dark. The only way to understand that feeling is to experience it yourself. Lately though, after Ivy showed up, I have felt less and less uneasy about it. Everywhere has felt like this–Even the basement, which is the second most unsettling place to be. No one goes down there much.

When the elevator stops, I open the doors and quietly walk the hall to his office door. I press my ear against it and listen. I never know when he is working or sleeping. It's quiet as a mouse. Hm... I step over to the kitchen door and listen. There's nothing. I put my hand on the knob and realize the door is slightly ajar. This is very unusual because this door is never unlocked. I listen once more, and don't open the door yet; something makes me feel I should wait first. Absentmindedly, I reach down into my pocket and pull a spiral notepad out, then start unwinding the metal part of it, keeping a blank face. When I'm done, I carefully push the door open and daintily walk inside with the cart, also tucking the notepad back in my pocket and holding the unwound coil firmly in one hand.

I push the cart to one side and walk to the adjoining bedroom suit. My sight stops at Nicolai lying in his messy bed in a peaceful sleep. He seems to be dreaming. I also see he doesn't have a shirt on. Suddenly, I hear my name shouted in a whisper in my head. I move forward until reaching the foot of the bed, where I stand and stare at him. "Maria..." The voice says, slower and clearer this time, and unconsciously I say, "I need more of it; I must be perfect."

I step away from the cart and steadily crawl up the bed as he inhales deeply, then I stop moving, hovering my face over his. He turns his head and utters a quiet hum. I watch his mouth. How I would love to kiss those lips... How I would love to be his. I have more and more hatred now that I think of him and Ivy being together, and I really, really think she should go to hell. She's nothing. Just garbage!

I lift my hand with the coil in it over his neck and bite my lip slowly, then drag my eyes over to the spot I press the sharp end of the metal to. My eyebrows slowly lift in concentration, "I must be perfect-" I touch him, and suddenly he emits a deep inhuman growl, eyes flying open as he grabs my left hand, then the other and flips me over onto my back with great authority. I gasp, frightfully fluttering my lashes up at him as he straddles me, having an extremely malicious, deathly glare on his face. His eyes are brightly aglow and his teeth are gritted! Instantly, my breathing sharpens. His teeth! His eyes! My god! I am face to face with a pure evil monster!!!

"How dare you interrupt my slumber?!" he viciously snarls, sounding almost demonic. "N-Nick! I-!" I don't even think this is Mr. Francis! "Don't stutter girl!" He throatily hisses. Suddenly, he stops and pats his neck, surprised. The voice screams in my ears and a sudden sharp pain shoots into my back. "AH!" I try to escape his grip but in that same moment, something makes me grab his face and get a taste of his blood on his neck. Oh god, the taste! It tastes terrible! I don't have control of myself! What's going on?!

He gasps my name loudly, then growls and snatches my hair, yanking my head to one side and clamping his gaping mouth on my neck. I clench the sheets in my fists. Before I can let out a scream, he throws me off the bed and bites me again in the same spot, cupping my mouth with one hand. I try to hit him and push myself away with my legs but something makes me laugh at him, saying, "You damn COWARD! This is all?!" He takes a strong hold of my jaw and drills his glowing eyes into mine, "This will not happen again! You will not POSSESS! I continue to laugh at him until suddenly I feel something baseball-sized tear out my back. I belt out a cry and try harder to break free but I can't; he's too strong! I'm beginning to realize everything is disappearing from my sight. Everything is getting dark! I don't know what's going on! Am I dying? Oh my god, my neck! The pain; it hurts so bad! Why is this happening to me?! NO NO NO! HE'S KILLING ME!

-Nicolai-

Slowly, I stand over her, wiping my mouth with a scowl.
"This is unacceptable. I will have my revenge. Only I can possess here." My still-glowing eyes narrow hatefully as the fearful Maria lays there, unable to move. I watch the anxiety drain from her face to a blank stare. I now have full control of her.

As I slowly turn my head toward the door where she came in, she carefully rises from the floor and walks out of the room. I follow her and watch as she goes to her cart. Like a robot, she picks up dishes and silverware from the table and countertop and places them on the cart. She then puts her hands on the bar and rolls it out of the room without a trace of emotion on her face. Rozalia lowers my head, looking up through my lashes in a satisfied way. "Hm hm hm hmm..."

-Ivy-

"Miss Summers?" I hear a woman say, waking me. I turn over and look at the door, "...Yes?" She comes in with some towels, having a friendly face. It's Pamela.

"Good morning... I brought you these for your morning bath." As she talks, I rub my eyes and check the clock on the nightstand. It's 7am. "Is there anything else you would like?" she asks. I look at her kindly, "Oh, no thank you. I'm good." She bows her head softly, "Breakfast will be served in 1 hour in the grand dining room. Mr. Francis will be expecting you." she starts for the door, "Excuse me." I almost stop her from leaving, wanting to ask what's for breakfast, but no–I let her go. I understand she must have a busy schedule.

I get out of bed, make it up real fast, collect my denim-wash skinny jeans, black sweater, white coat and tan rider boots from my bag. I'm anxious about the horse-riding later. Hopefully nothing will go wrong. It's ironic I brought these boots along, now that I think about it.

After a short yet luxurious bath, I put my hair up in a bun and put some makeup on, then hurry over to the phone and press 11.

"Yes Miss Summers?" It's Angel. I know that voice. Hearing it brings back the memory of what happened yesterday.

Don't give the impression something is wrong, Ivy–A questioning maid is the last thing you want to deal with right now.

"Angel, hi–I would like to put my luggage in the foyer closet so when I'm ready to go I can get it on the way out...is that ok?"
"We can get that for you Ms." She says.
"Oh! Well, thank you!" I say.
"You're welcome."

Alrighty then...it's breakfast time. I glance at the clock. It's 7:50. I leave the bag on the bed and hurry out into the hallway where I see Walter coming toward me. He asks me if I had a good night sleep, which I say yes to, and then he asks if I'm going to the dining room. "Yes I am."
"Allow me to escort you madam." He offers to guide me there.

I go with him downstairs. On the way, I notice Pamela walk by us, headed for the left corridor. She seems a little confused about something. I can see she's trying very hard to mask it.

"Is she ok?" I ask out of the corner of my mouth.
"I'm sure she is." He answers, although at the same time, I think he's trying to understand her behavior too. Hmm...

Pretty soon, we arrive at the dining room. He opens the door, and immediately I find Nick who is actually not sitting yet, but talking with the chef, and he's wearing the old Victorian clothing again; all black Victorian clothing today. He has a black vest with a blood red cravat tucked underneath, a silky black long sleeved shirt, black pants and shiny black rider boots. He looks beyond dashing. He's so fancy. I can't stop staring at him.

He turns to us as soon as he hears the door, and a bright, heart-stopping smile graces his face. I almost melt.

"Ivy, Walter," he bows slightly, then approaches us and takes my hand in his, lifting it up as he nods once at Walter. Walter bows back and goes out, saying, "Very well sir... Enjoy your breakfast."

I look at Nick again.
"I trust you slept well...?" He asks curiously.
"I did... It was very peaceful, thank you." I beam modestly at him.
"Very good, very good." He leads me over to my chair and pulls it out for me. "Miss Summers...you look very beautiful today."
"Why, thank you... You look quite handsome yourself." I watch him join me at the table, joy all in my eyes. He chuckles, then he says, "Well, I am most comfortable in this fashion of clothing...as I have explained before." He gives Fitzgerald a look. I also glance over as the chef rolls the cart up and places our plates down in front of us. "Croissants...and some orange juice." He smiles. Nick does the same back to him, nodding and waving his hand a little. Fitzgerald kindly leaves us to our meals.

I look at Nick in a slightly confused way.
"I recommended we have a light breakfast this morning... I don't want you to get an upset stomach during our time horseback riding." He explains.
"Oh, I see..." That's understandable.

"You know, I have felt like having French toast but it isn't a wise idea. Truthfully, I think French toast has been a favorite of mine...for as long as I have been here." He says, taking his glass of orange juice, having a gleeful glint in one eye. It's that glint that always makes me forget everything around us, I swear. Momentarily, I raise my own glass in agreement, giving nearly the same expression.

"Ivy, what is your favorite thing to eat?-Overall." He asks.
I lift my attention up from my plate to him, a little puzzled. That is an interesting question for me. "I don't think I have any favorites."
"Really?" He's a tad stunned. I think about it some more.
"Yeah, really." I nod. He takes his first bite of his croissant with a wondering gleam, "Yes...there is so much food out there to choose from...I suppose when you give someone so many choices, they will never know what they like best."
"Tell me about it. Waiting in line for coffee at the Lounge 'n Sip is no picnic." I roll my eyes.

"Ah, but waiting for something like that, I can tolerate. When you wait for happiness, it is like an eternity, no?" His question...I can really relate to it. My dreams...

"Most definitely." I agree in a somewhat quiet, sad voice. He goes silent as he looks at me in a way it's almost like he's contemplating something. "You seem to know what I mean by that. Why?" he takes a bite of his food. While he chews, I realize how closely he's observing me. The unnerving feeling...has returned.

"Well I..." I try to talk, though it's not working as well as I'd hoped. He takes his napkin in both hands, still watching me in that same way. I inhale deeply. He puts the napkin down, "You are too lovely to experience something like that." I blink quickly at him. "Tell me, what could make you happy?" I become more surprised. "Excuse me?"
He raises his hands, "What could make you happy? It's a simple question, really."
I close my mouth and inwardly scoff.

"What?" He asks. I move my hand around a little as I think about it, and before getting a taste of my croissant, I quietly say, "It's not that simple. No one has ever asked me a question like that. I don't know how to answer properly."
"Would there be a proper way to answer that?"
"Well," I look at him, "I don't...think so."
He looks down at his glass, "Hmm," then a sudden smile spreads across his face as he props his chin up on his left hand, "Ivy...let me tell you...the proper way is to know yourself and then you will know what you want. Do you know yourself?"
"What do you mean?" I ask. He places one hand over his heart, "Your heart Ivy–What does it tell you? Listen to it–Really listen to it." I am falling speechless again. Anybody could tell me this and I wouldn't give it much thought, but when it's him, it's different. What could make me happy...

The desire I have for him is so strong; it runs my life every minute now. I haven't known him long but ever since the first time I saw him, he's really all I think about. I don't understand this. I just know that when we are near each other, everything feels whole and complete again. I'm happy–Happier than words can really explain. But how can I tell him this?

He laughs quietly without opening his mouth, then takes a deep breath and turns his head, "Love..."

I slowly look up from my plate at his profile. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, "Love is the answer." He faces me completely with a sort of smile that I don't understand. "Well don't we all want that?"
"Yes...of course." I utter.

Suddenly, Walter comes in and whispers something to Nick. When he's done, Nick nods at him, "We are almost finished here. Thank you." Walter bows his head and leaves again.

Turning back to me and taking his glass in a hand, he says, "Our horses are ready to go."
"Oh," I return to my meal.
"Are you nervous?" he asks, and I think he wants me to say yes.
"No." I say in a small diminished voice.
"You are lying..." Quickly, I shoot him a troubled look.

"It's alright my dear...Mr. Vladoiu's horses are very well-behaved."
"But what if I startle them?"
He winks at me, "You don't worry; it will be fine." I raise an eyebrow as I eat some more.

"Last night, did you hear anything in the halls? Perhaps feel a little chill?" he asks.
"No...I don't think so. I was very comfortable actually." I begin to wonder why he's asking me such a question. I understand he's concerned but it's a little strange how he says that.
"Hmm..." he finishes his meal and uses his napkin, "Very good."

"Nick," He pauses and looks at me questionably. I become hesitant again; this time it's for a very good reason. I bite my lip. He sees me do that. "What is wrong?"

"Why is the Windsor room so different? You told me you are a psychic and I'm just wondering what's really going on here." I ask. He slowly sits back in his chair, taking another deep breath. Is he bothered?

"There are others here. I see them night and day." He says.
"Yeah...? Are they good or bad?"
He forms a devilish smile, now seeming eager, "Well my dear, define good and bad..." Oh! A sudden mood change! The expression he's making, how his voice suddenly became dark and evil; I feel like sinking into my boots.

"Good ghosts, I guess, would leave you alone. The bad ones..." I can't finish my sentence; I'm not exactly sure how to describe the bad ones.

"The bad ones..." he tilts his head, "what?"
"They would terrorize you." I say.
"Are you saying there might be bad 'ghosts' here?" Oh yeah, he's entertained again.

"No! No I'm not...!"
"Then why do you ask of the Windsor room in that way?" He looks quizzical now.
"Because...it gave me chills, literally. I heard banging within the walls and some women whispering. They were either in the hall or in the walls." I think to myself...wouldn't that be considered bad?

He makes a more interested stare.
"What?" I ask.
"I will investigate that when I can." He says. He takes a last sip of his orange juice and stands up, "In the meantime, our horses are waiting for us... Shall we go?" I glance down at my plate and then at my glass, "Yeah," I also get up and he smiles softly at me. "I hope you enjoyed your breakfast–As small as it was." I look at him for a minute. "Yes, yes I did...thank you." I lightly bow my head. He offers his arm, winking at me, "It is my pleasure. Come now–Allow me to escort you there Miss Summers." He's just so...different. I love that.
Gently, I take a hold of his arm.

He leads me out into the corridor and we follow it all the way. It feels like it could never end. After a while, I really begin to notice the dark-wood ceiling is lower than I'd imagined, and more rounded off too. It has fancy dimly lit lanterns dangling far apart from each other and the floor is light brown marble. There are interesting designs in the wood on both walls. Along these walls, I see some paintings nicely spread out from each other and also the small almost-black tables with two chairs at each and every one of them. I do wonder why everything is so dark.

"Nick, you live in a fantasy world." I absentmindedly mutter. He looks at me with a bare smile, "No, not really–It could always be better." At that, I want to ask 'how could it? How could it when you live in a castle and have people constantly waiting on you hand-and-foot?', but all I ask is, "How?"

We stop at a single dark, dark-brown door at the end and he takes my hands, "My life is truly a complicated one. It's one that I wouldn't expect you to understand–Or even try to believe." I glance up from our hands to his face, "How can it be so complicated when you live in such luxury?" He starts to smile in a dry sort of way, "Luxury is what you make of it Ivy. This is my life, yes–But it's never perfect." he seems to frown at the last few words, almost like a longing frown. I blink at him slowly, then I take my hands out of his, "Well, I'd say your life, despite your ghost issue, is so much better than mine."
He quickly blocks the door, "Oh, I highly doubt that."
I look at his lips, "I thought you don't like doubts."
"I have plenty reason to doubt that."
"How so?" I ask. He studies my eyes and nearly answers my question but stops himself. He backs up and opens the door without looking at it. I see past him yet another hall, but this one is brighter and narrower. I look at him again. He has a sort of smug expression. I follow him for a short distance past a single window. The sun is shining brightly and it illuminates the end of the hall.

As he guides me along, I hear him hiss, "So bright today."
"The sun bothers you?"
"A little bit. It bothers my eyes. The hat will help though."
"The hat?" I ask.
"Yes–you will see." He says, not looking at me.
"Ok..."

I change the subject. "Let me guess...you don't ever go to the beach?" I grin slightly. We stop at the door, and as he opens it, he looks back at me, "Oh no...you will never find me going there. I get sunburned quite easily. Always have–All my life." Ah, no wonder why he's so pale!

We stop at a single lone door across from the window. He gestures me to go first. I open the door and see we're walking into the stable. Immediately, I see 4 beautiful horses in their stalls. Two of them are saddled. I really didn't expect this at all–Surprise, surprise! I wonder who saddled them.

He shows me over to a saddled white mare and pats her side, "This is Amelia; she is 5 years old; an American Saddle-bred. She is a very good horse." He smiles up at her while rubbing her ribcage, "Aren't you a good girl? Yes you are." She really likes him, I can tell. He must coo over her like this often. It makes me giggle to myself. The other horses in here are very tame as well. He pats her two more times and then looks at me, "You will ride her. She's the most calm here. Now, the horse I will ride," he walks over to a saddled black stallion and greets it by petting its muzzle gently, "This is Stelian...it means pillar in Romanian. He's 8 and the same breed as his girlfriend over there." He grins over at Amelia shortly, then he looks at me again. I begin to smile at him. He's good with animals it seems.

"What?" he asks. I give a small laugh, "You are so good with them; these horses." That makes him smile back at me–An after-the-fact smile. "Yes, well," he gazes back up into Stelian's left eye, "They are like my children...when Dmitri is not here. I love them so." he chuckles, "Even when they misbehave." He walks over, opens Amelia's gate and starts checking her saddle, "The hats are over there hanging on the wall." he points with his chin over to the left. I follow his gaze to the other side of the stable. Oh my gosh, they're those black Spanish hats with the feathers at the backs! I go collect them and hand him one.

"Thanks," he puts it on, then flashes a suave smile. My cheeks flush. After putting mine on, I grab my arms and watch him return to fixing his saddle. "So do you want to have kids?" I ask. He pauses, almost looks at me, but only stares down at the ground for a moment, then he returns to what he's doing, "No. I've considered having some, but I don't think I'm able to." he finishes checking the saddle and motions me to mount her. I walk up to her. Before I do anything, he says, "Why do you ask?" I look at him as I take a hold of the saddle, "...You seem like you'd be a wonderful father." He stares at me for a long few seconds; a thoughtful kind of stare. I furrow my eyebrows at him, "Does that surprise you or something?"

He blinks, then quickly smiles and shakes his head, laughing quietly, "Well, I can't be sure. The only way to know if I'm a good father or not is to ask them." he moves his hand around the room at the horses. I briefly smile, but wonder about his sudden odd behavior. "Yeah, I guess so."

He winks at me, "Alright. Well go on–Mount her."
"Um," I'm sheepish.
"Here," he helps me up onto the saddle and I almost fall off with an "Oh!"
We both laugh as I steady myself on Amelia. She stands still and whinnies as if to reassure me.

I feel strange up here; I don't know what will happen next. I watch him go over to Stelian's gate, open it, check his saddle and then mount him easily.

"Follow me."
I blush and nod nervously.

Here we go...