“—Not waking up…”

“So much blood…”

“Should we call for help?”

“No, he’ll be fine…he’s had worse……”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Upon waking up, Noël was confronted by the sight of a worried Henrietta and Adelaide. Tears dripping down their faces, they latched onto the bewildered vampire. Sobbing, they expressed fear as the events replayed in their minds. If Adelaide had fallen head first, if Noël reached for her a second too late, if Noël wasn’t immortal…

“Please don’t cry.” Wiping the blood that was slowly dripping down his face, Noël calmly stood up and reached for his disregarded bag that had landed quite a distance away. Rifling through brightly colored candy wrappers, quills, and crumpled parchment, he eventually found Henrietta’s beloved paintbrush. Sauntering over to the two sisters and ensuring no blood would drip onto the brush, Noël handed it to Henrietta. “This belongs to you, Henrietta. I apologize for causing so much trouble.”

Henrietta fixed her gaze down at him. She must be angry, Noël thought to himself. With leaves and twigs caught in her hair and blood splattered all over her dress, Henrietta looked as if death had frozen over. Afterall, he did steal her prized possession and nearly caused her to fall down to her death as a result.

“Stop it…” Henrietta stated softly. Taking the brush from Noël, she unhesitatingly tossed it in the other direction.

“Henrietta, that was your favorite brush,” the vampire retorted, confusion etched upon his features.

“How stupid,” Henrietta responded, choking back a sob as she hugged Noël.

“You should be more careful,” Adelaide admonished as she also joined the two for a hug. “You’re more important than a silly old brush.”

“But…Henrietta loves art.” Noël was completely and utterly confused. Why were they so sad…over him? Unlike Adelaide and Henrietta, he could never die. A fall from a fifty foot tall oak tree was like a walk in the park for him…and yet……

“Yes, but we love you more,” Adelaide lightly admonished. “When will you realize you’re family? It’s been more than ten years.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Ten years ago I was 12, and yet…I’m still 12.”

“Nothing will change,” Henrietta quickly responded, wary of the iciness and contempt in Noël’s voice.

“No…everything changes, but I’ll always remain the same,” Noël softly murmured. Had it not been so eerily silent, the sisters would not have been able to catch his words. “You two will grow up; have a family, die of old age…and I’ll never get any older.”

“I’ll never even get my driver’s license,” Noël mirthlessly laughed.

In bewilderment, Adelaide was quick to ask, “What’s…a driver’s license?”

“I think he’s talking about a horse drawn carriage, sister.”

“He’s not tall enough to drive a carriage, Henrietta.”

“I’m not referring to a carriage.” Shaking his head in exasperation, Noël was quick to dissuade their inquiries. “I don’t know how to explain it, but…I’ve always felt as if there’s something…more. Perhaps I’ve forgotten an important truth my parents had told me? All I know is that I would very much like to have grown up with you two.”

“You needn’t worry about being alone,” Adelaide said, brushing long strands of brown hair from her face.

“For now, at least.” Noël sighed and turned away from the twins. “How long will you two live? Five days? Fifty years? It’ll all be the same in the end…”

“We’ve done a good job of not dying,” Henrietta piped up as she subconsciously kicked a stray twig. “This was what—the third near death experience I’ve had this month?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say something wants us dead,” Adelaide replied in suit. “I don’t know if we can be considered lucky or not.”

“I’ve always meant to ask this, but…are you two even human?” Turning back towards the sisters, Noël regarded them in a thinly veiled veneer of curiosity. “Most people would have run screaming into the hills after seeing my reflection, or lack thereof.”

“Not like we’ve ever had experience with being normal,’ Henrietta muttered angrily to herself. Upon closing her eyes, she could almost see a faded vision of an apathetic nun and contrary minister with hollow, golden eyes. “After living in Procession’s Way, I wouldn’t even know what being normal would entail.”

“Normality is overrated,” Adelaide cheerfully exclaimed as she placed an arm on Henrietta’s shoulder.

“A bore,” Henrietta agreed.

Nodding along, Adelaide unflinchingly agreed. “A drag, an absolute travesty of a life—”

Softly laughing, Noël smiled at his two taller companions. He may not remember much of his old life, but it felt as if he had known Henrietta and Adelaide for ages. And yet, there was a nagging suspicion that there was perhaps something he’d been missing…such as the final piece in a puzzle. “Alright, I get it! You two have a good point.”

“I do wonder why we’ve been so lucky,” Adelaide mused as she recounted past experiences of encounters with stray carriages, gallows, a prone body of a familiar woman, blood-thirsty nuns with terrible smiles, and awful, horrid flames. The scent of burnt flesh and the sight of jagged, yellow bones would never leave her……nor could she ever forget coughing until her chest ached and breath hitched. And the vision of blood drenched hands and warm, all too consuming walls would forever be entrenched in her memory.

“Maybe we’ve got a guardian angel on our side,” Henrietta laughed halfheartedly.

“Perhaps…or maybe it’s been dumb luck,” Noël mused. Uncertainty plagued his mind as he stared puzzlingly at the two sisters. After an encounter with a vampire who had a penchant for collecting mirrors and other shiny knick-knacks, he learned that certain vampires could not be around humans lest they’d have mortals succumb to illness or worse, but…

Henrietta and Adelaide Sauer were the picture of health.

Especially Adelaide, at least in-comparison to when they first met. Back in that lonely town, the poor girl was on her death bed.

But, everything was fine…now that he had Henrietta, Adelaide, and Ilia Vallières. Or, Ilia when they were graced with a reflective surface or a solitary gray world after a rainstorm.

“Who knows; maybe we’re witches.” Henrietta conspiratorially nudged Adelaide with her arm.

“How blasphemous.” Noël raised his eyes towards his companions in a mixture of fondness and admiration. They’re not witches, but I’ve always detected something…inhuman about them.

I wonder.........