The Mistletoe

Chapter XV

After a few days, a man arrived with several paintings, brushes, and other items, looking every bit a painter, carrying multiple boxes. I helped to carry some things, and they invited us to have dinner.

"Good Lord, young man!" one of the maids said to me. "You should have better manners. This boy eats for ten people, he's going to bankrupt us!"

"It's the work, ma'am, the work," said the restorer while laughing with me.

We gathered in what they called the "atrium" to unpack the boxes.

Carmilla didn't seem overly impressed with the paintings, and I had never touched a real painting before; at home, we only had digitally printed photos, mostly of our family members. While we unpacked some paintings, Laura's father checked one that seemed to catch his attention.

"I've never seen this painting before," Laura's father commented while pointing to the painting to the restorer.

I sneaked in to look at the painting that Laura and her father were observing. "Marcia Karnstein, 1768," I could read, while the restorer seemed quite proud of the portrait.

"Can you see, dear?" he asked. "This is a real miracle. It's you, alive and smiling. It's only missing the ability to speak. Don't you find it extraordinary? Look, Dad! It also has a small mole on the throat."

"Oh! Come on, they're identical!" I thought. I recalled those memes and creepypastas comparing actors Keanu Reeves and Nicolas Cage with old photos, claiming they were immortal.

Laura's father smiled and said, "Indeed, it's an extraordinary resemblance."

Carmilla just stood there, absorbed in her thoughts. Then Laura said, "May I hang it in my room, Dad?"

"Of course, dear," he said. "I'm glad you like it. It must be more beautiful than I thought if it resembles your friend so much."

Laura widened her shining eyes and asked the restorer, "Could you paint a picture for me?"

The restorer nodded, and Laura's father seemed a bit bewildered.

"Miguel!" she exclaimed, excitedly taking my hands with her bright eyes. "I would love to have a picture of you too; it would be an honor for me to have your portrait."

I hesitated a bit, but seeing Laura's high expectations, I reaffirmed, saying, "Ok... I mean... sure."

As the restorer set things up to paint me and Carmilla remained absorbed in her thoughts, she appeared, at one point, to slightly open her mouth and smile in what seemed like a kind of ecstasy.

"Now the name is readable," said Laura. "It's not Marcia. It seems written in golden letters. The name is Mircalla, Countess of Karnstein. Above the name, there's a small Ravenn, and below an inscription: Anno Domini 1698. I descend from the Karnsteins."

"Ah!" languidly exclaimed Carmilla. "I also believe I'm a distant descendant of that family. Are there any of their members still alive?"

"I don't think anyone bears the surname anymore. The family died out due to the civil war, a very long time ago. The castle ruins are only a few leagues from here."

"Very interesting," Carmilla murmured absentmindedly. "But look at this beautiful moonlight tonight." She looked through the half-opened door. "What if we went for a walk?" After a pause, she added.

"Tonight reminds me of the night you arrived," said Laura and added. "And the night of our gentleman, Miguel." Carmilla sighed, smiling at her, then turned her gaze to me, focusing on my eyes.

"We'll go for a walk, Miguel; I'm anxious to see your portrait!" Laura said with a radiant smile.

Carmilla looked at me and said before leaving, "I doubt any artist can capture the true essence of our dear friend."