Elysa sat in the kitchen with the head maid Francesca. She had agreed to make them tea after calming down the young maid who had almost become a meal for the ghouls. The poor girl had cried herself to sleep in Francesca’s arms and was now sleeping close to the fireplace, far away from the darkness.

While waiting for the water to boil, Francesca lit a black cigarette and offered one to Elysa who after some hesitation shook her head. She watched the sleeping Emilia and bit her lip.

“Is she going to be alright?” Elysa asked.

Francesca blew out a smoke ring and caressed the sleeping Emilia’s forehead.

“She’s a survivor and this isn’t her first rodeo. She has dealt with monsters from The Wyrding before.” Francesca said.

“Really?” Elysa said and looked at Emilia.

The little maid did not look like an adventurer in training but more like…a mouse in human skin.

“Really, really. She was… twelve when she ignored her parents’ warnings and crossed the Wyrd Stones to see the fairies. She met one too. Lord of the Hunt. A very old, very powerful elf lord. He whisked her away to his castle as a scullery maid.”

“How did she escape?”

“The same way most escape the fae. With help. The viscount and Sal found their way into the castle and… hilarity ensued.”

“So… they saved her?” Elysa said.

A melancholy came over Francesca and she blew out more dark smoke.

“Yes but… time is a strange beast. It moves differently in some places. Emilia had been the Hunter Lord’s slave for a year but in Garuccia… fifty years had passed.”

Elysa’s teeth sank deep enough in her lip for her to taste blood while Francesca served them black tea.

“… Jesus.”

“Not much even he could do at that point. Her parents were long gone, and her siblings were old and grey. They didn’t even recognize her.”

Pincers squeezed Elysa’s chest when she looked at the sleeping girl.

“That’s…”

“It was a raw deal.” Francesca said: “But all we can do is play the hand we’re dealt with. Sal, ever the pragmatist, gave her a job here. Not like she could have gone anywhere else.”

Elysa sampled her tea and found it excellent, but she had to force herself to drink. She wasn’t in the mood for nourishments but saying no would have been cruel at a time like this.

“I’m sorry. For putting you all through this.” Elysa said.

“Don’t apologize for your father.”

Elysa smiled sadly.

“Then I won’t.” Elysa said and looked at Francesca over her tea: “What about you?”

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Francesca had the sly smile of someone who was dying to share a secret.

“What do you mean, what about me?”

“Most people wouldn’t handle a vampire as a house guest as well as you.” Elysa said.

Francesca studied her reflection in her tea.

“I’m just a maid. Besides, man or vampire. It doesn’t matter. I know the type. I know men like your father. My mother taught me all about them.”

Elysa knew she was standing in front of a door that housed a lot of pain, but she couldn’t stop herself from pushing it open.

“And why would your mother have to put up with men like my father?”

“My own father died in the Twelve-Year-War. My mother… made do the best she could. You didn’t last long in her profession unless you learned to recognize the bad ones.”

Elysa couldn’t help but shudder.

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. She survived and made sure my lot was better than hers.” Francesca said and put out her cigarette with a smile: “And we both serve a worthy master now.”

“And who is that?” Elysa asked on a whim.

Francesca finished her tea and winked like one conspirator to another.

“Why, lord Lionheart, of course. Saying anything else would be… quite treasonous.”

Elysa smiled. Francesca could keep her secrets. She had her own too. Sometimes… she dreamt of places… and people far from this place.

“You’re an odd one.”

“I’ve lived an odd life but so have you. It’s an odd thing when a lady with a vampire for a father still has hope.”

“I guess I just didn’t know when to quit.” Elysa said.

“There are worse flaws. I…” Francesca said before going very still.

The brown eyes narrowed, and she stared at the window that kept the night out.

“… Francesca?”

Francesca motioned her to be quiet and picked up a heavy cleaver meant for cutting through bone from the wall. She moved quietly as a falling leaf through the kitchen and then opened the window. She stared outside for a moment and the muscles in her back tensed.

“… Francesca? What is it?”

Francesca shook her head and closed the window.

“I thought I heard something.” Francesca said.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Yeah, well… you don’t have the ears of a maid. I need to hear what my master says before he says it.”

Suddenly the fire in the hearth flickered and Emilia woke up with a shiver. She blinked a few times before letting out a mute scream. The kind that got stuck in your throat when you were too terrified to make a sound.

The kind children made when Pietro Capello entered a room.

Elysa bit her lip when she saw her father standing by the door without even bothering to hide what he was. For the first time Elysa spotted a drop of fear on Francesca’s face. Father looked slowly around the kitchen and his eyes lingered on Francesca and Emilia like he was a farmer counting his livestock.

Then his eyes stopped at Elysa.

“What are you doing here?”

“… I… I just… wanted some tea.” Elysa said quietly.

Father stared at her with eyes that were the color of foul blood. Then he glanced at Francesca who had pulled Emilia behind herself. She was still holding the cleaver and she was gripping it with white knuckles.

“What are you doing with that knife?” Father asked.

“My lord… I thought… one of your servants was outside the window.”

Father stared at her, his face pale and blank as fresh snow, before laughing.

“You thought you could drive them away with a kitchen knife?”

Father kept laughing as he walked over to Francesca with the terrible purpose of an avalanche. He caressed her face with his talons, but Francesca’s face betrayed neither fear nor disgust. She only gripped the cleaver harder.

“What is your name, my pretty little maid?”

“Francesca.”

“Francesca?” Father said and kneeled in front of Emilia: “And this one’s?”

“Em…” Francesca began.

“I wasn’t asking you.” Father said and smiled at Emilia: “What’s your name, little girl?”

Emilia opened her mouth, but no words came out. Just a stream of stutters. And suddenly father’s voice cracked like thunder.

“Answer me!”

The shout was like a punch that knocked something loose in Emilia.

“Emilia! My name is Emilia!” The girl cried out.

Father kept smiling like that outburst had never happened.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” Father said and ran his talons through Emilia’s hair: “Word of advice, Francesca. When you rear children, you need a firm hand. Otherwise, they’ll grow uppity.”

The cleaver wasn’t pointed at father but at the same time… it was.

“I’ll make sure to remember that, my lord.” Francesca said.

“Be sure you do.” Father said and stood: “Now, what did you really see outside, Francesca?”

Francesca’s eyes widened but then she shook her head.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Father echoed and peered into Francesca’s eyes: “Are you sure?”

Elysa recognized her father’s powers at work when his gaze began to overpower another’s will.

“What did you see, Francesca?”

Francesca gazed into those pools of blood that someone might have called eyes. Then she spoke.

“… nothing.”

Father kept staring at her but now he seemed confused and unsure. He bit his lip, and the fangs left a prick in his lower lip.

“I… see.” Father said and gazed in Elysa’s direction: “Elysa.”

“… father.”

“Nuncio has been found. He has returned home. With the gypsy.”

When father mentioned Torrini, the worry on Francesca’s face told Elysa that Torrini meant more to her than just an employer. For the briefest moment it looked like she would try to bury the cleaver in father’s skull… not that it would have done any good.

“I am returning home to… sort things out. I’ll leave my… heh… servants to keep you safe.” Father said and caressed Elysa’s face with his cold hand: “And you will keep my little maids safe from my servants.”

“I… understand.” Elysa said.

“I knew you would. Now, give me your hand.”

Elysa flinched and looked at Francesca and Emilia.

“… father… not in front of them…”

“Do it or I will use little Emilia.”

Elysa shivered but then offered her wrist to her father. His fangs found the vein, but the pain was nothing compared to the humiliation of being used like this in front of Francesca and Emilia. The only comfort was that father didn’t need more than a sip.

After licking his lips and cleaning his mouth with a handkerchief, father walked out of the mansion, and they could hear the flutter of great wings when a giant bird of prey flew over the mansion.