Bloody roses

11: Friend

Lacrimă regretted her decision. Never would she have thought that gardening would be this hard of a labour. While Vlad walked in the flowerbed, rambling on about how to recognise early signs of disease in roses and plucking some, she kneeled on the ground, digging what would become a new flower bed. The dirt was everywhere: On and in her clothes, all over her skin, even in her mouth! Only when she tried to wipe it off, the dirt seemed to disappear, fleeing from her hands, only to reappear once she had given up the attempt.
After about an hour, she decided, though she was still hesitant, to ask if she could stop. Her concerns remained unfulfilled as Vlad just absent-mindly dismissed her. She decided to clean herself in a pond close by. Upon arriving, she noticed she was not alone here, either.
“Louis, try to reach my hand!” Charles said nervously to a squirrel sitting on a small patch of wood. The lesser vampire didn’t notice he wasn’t alone anymore, too absorbed in his task of pulling Louis on land. He was, unfortunately, too short. The animal was too far from the shore.

Charles was desperate. How was he going to save his precious squirrel now? Then, he heard a splashing noise. When he turned around, he found his Voivoide’s granddaughter, having jumped in the water and extending her hand to Louis. The latter jumped on the vampiress’ hand without hesitation and let her bring him safely back to his owner.
“You saved him!! Thank you so much, mademoiselle!”
Lacrimă just smiled. Charles seemed so happy, happier than anyone she had ever seen before, and than she had ever been. He had a cheerful aura surrounding him, sharing his happiness with the world.
“Do you have a pet, too?”
“Yes, a bat. He’s sleeping right now.”
“I bet he’s real cute, just like you! What’s his name?”
“Just bat.”
“Awe, c’mon! You need to give him a name. One that’s as sweet as he is!”
“You have never even truly met him.”
“I know he is nice, I don’t have to meet him to know.”
“I doubt that.”
“Anyways, he needs a name. Something to show him how loved he is. Oh, I know! What about Aimé? It’s French, and it means ‘beloved’.”
“Aimé it is then.”
“Aww, you took my suggestion! That’s so nice of you. But it’s getting late, you know. I have to make some house calls now. I work as a town doctor, but to be honest, I don’t really do a lot of medical stuff. I just give people love, and they love me in return. So, basically, we all love each other. Isn’t it wonderful? I hope you’ll let me love you too!”

“Charl, stop being such a thot. It’s disturbing my thoughts.”
“Relax, docteur. I’ll be on my way then.”
What was up with Charles? Was he trying to manipulate her? Mihnea had always described love as fake, a weapon used by some people to reach their selfish goals. And Charles asked her to let him love her?
Love… her..?

Faust just stood there. He was unsure of what to do. The pureblooded vampiress was not responding to any of his questions. She sat on the ground, not moving a muscle and staring off into space, not even blinking, despite the sun setting and making room for a full moon. He tapped on her shoulder. She did not notice. He spoke to her again. Lacrimă showed no signs of having heard him. Desperate, he pulled out a vial of rouge, trying to get her bloodlust to free her of her trance.

Lacrimă’s vision was clouded with red. She could make out a familiar voice in the distance, but she could not reach it even with her hardest attempts. Then, a dark shadow appeared, disturbing the shades of red. It drew her in, forced her closer, and changed slowly. A face appeared in the mist, and Lacrimă screamed.

Cold arms were wrapped around her, pressing her face in a broad chest. Slowly, Lacrimă lifted her arms to return the gesture. Rarely had she ever felt this safe. She did not know who had hugged her, but the strength of these arms made her feel protected and cold. Usually, people preferred warmth, but for the young woman, it served only as a reminder of the burning cottage.

Faust felt her breathing calm and immediately let go. What was he thinking, hugging her like that? It would have been the perfect opportunity to examine pureblood anatomy, and he just let it pass like that? What was going on with him and, most importantly, why did he feel the desire to possess her, completely own her?
He had expected her to attack him for the rouge, as she usually did. And she could have taken him out easily. So why didn’t she? Purebloods don’t get sick, so it had to be mental. Well, whatever it was, it had to wait… right?

“Come. You will be dissecting corpses.”
“Just me?”
“I have work to do.”

Lacrimă could have been happy. Faust, the perfectionist Johann Georg Faust, trusted her to dissect on her own.
She could’ve been happy.

Instead, his words crushed her. His work, that was all he thought about. Work, as a doctor. Work, for humans. Humans, creatures beneath her. Though, he was beneath her, too. Humans were just on the lowest step of the hierarchy of nature. So, she could simply order him to abandon this work, could she?

“Forget it.”