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Chapter 11: Nothing lasts forever

Chapter 11: Nothing lasts forever

My mom and her new husband left the night of their wedding for their honeymoon trip. I'd be staying with my grandparents, and Chris with David's parents, until our parents would come back. Papa Peter and Nana Eve were glad that I was staying with them, and so I was. With the wedding preparations, I didn't have much time to paint, and I wanted to do just that; I needed to express all my pent-up emotions on my canvas.

That night I went to bed at almost 5 am. I was exhausted but happy. I smiled, recalling the events of the day. I thought I'd be reliving them in my dreams, but I was wrong. That night I saw another horrible nightmare…

  • I was floating once again in a dark and quiet house. I heard a glass break into pieces, and I moved towards the source of the sound. The small window of the kitchen's back door was shred into pieces while a man kicked the door open. He entered the house with two other men hot on his tail. Before I could take a better look at them, they sped out of the kitchen, and the next thing I heard was a woman's scream.

I went upstairs and entered a room that looked to be the master bedroom. A woman, wearing a white nightgown, was standing with a petrified look on her face. One of the intruders was pointing a gun at a middle-aged man. I supposed he was this woman's husband and seemed paralyzed from fear.

"What do you want?" the woman asked, trying to compose herself.

"The Master is looking for a necklace," replied one of them, nonchalantly.

I paid a better look at them and realized that they were vampires; their pale skin and their slightly elongated canines made it obvious. The guns they were holding were useless to them. If they wanted to kill, nothing could stop them.

"What necklace?" the woman asked again, looking perplexed.

"The Keepers are protecting a necklace. Where is it?" he elaborated, while his partner pressed the gun harder at the temple of that poor man. He was human, and he had no idea what all this was about. To be honest, neither did I.

"I don't have it," the woman said, livid.

"I have an eternity, but he hasn't," the man said, pointing at her husband. "Give us the necklace, and you both shall live."

"I told you that I don't have it," she said, and before I knew it, she attacked the vampire who did all the talking.

They fought, she tried to protect her husband, she tried to save her life. What she gained was a few more minutes of pain and struggle. Two of the vampires managed to immobilize her, and the third sunk his canines on the human's neck.

"Ester," was the only thing that the poor man managed to murmur while the vampire drained all his blood.

A chill ran down my spine, and a few stray tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn't do anything to help; I was a ghost floating around meaninglessly.

They tortured the poor woman, but all she said to them, but she kept repeating that the necklace wasn't in her possession. They searched every inch of the house; they even discovered a safe hidden in the bookcase.

I wandered around the house until I reached another room; it looked like a teenager's room. The vampires had messed up everything in there. They had a son that wasn't there. They had a son who was going to lose both his parents in one night. They were a happy family that fell apart in the blink of an eye.

"Who has it?" I heard one of the vampires ask, and I moved towards the living room where they were holding the woman captive.

"I don't know," the woman replied breathlessly.

The vampire shook his head, disappointed, and attacked her. A few seconds later, the woman was lying in a blood pool, her eyes void of any emotion, void of life. The vampires were already gone.

"I'm sorry. I promise I'll take revenge for you," I whispered to Ester's lifeless body and then walked down the hall and got out of that house.

I looked at the garden around me and then glanced back at the house. There was a sign above the door's frame where a number was written. I tried to remember it and strolled towards the road. A few blocks away, there was a playground and a bit further a church. I had all the information I needed to find them.

I was ready to wake up…*

My eyes snapped open, and I tried to adjust my vision. The light that came through the curtains indicated it was almost noon. I got out of my bed and rushed to my grandparents' bedroom, but they weren't there. I ran down to the kitchen and found my grandpa sipping his coffee while my grandma was cooking.

"Good morning, angel," Papa Peter said happily, but his brows furrowed as soon as he took in my troubled look. Our happiness was short-lived. We had to find these vampires and punish them…

"I saw another murder. The victims were a human and his wife Ester; she was one of us," I told them, and the cup my grandpa was holding broke into shreds.

"What did you see this time, Ophelia?" Papa Peter asked, trying to control his temper.

I took a deep breath and told them what happened in that nightmare. I tried to be as detailed as possible. I'd paint everything later, but that needed time, and we didn't have any.

"So, you tell me that three vampires killed Ester, who was a Keeper, because they thought she was hiding a special necklace," grandpa made a recap of what I told them.

I nodded in response, and the frown on his face became deeper. "Did you know this woman?"

"We're a small community, angel, so we pretty much know each other. Ester married a human about twenty years ago, and she decided not to interact with the supernaturals from then on. Of course, if a threat appeared, she'd help without any hesitation. She was a nice woman, and most definitely, she didn't deserve to die."

"She had a son, didn't she?"

"That's right. Ester's son is human, and that made it easier for her to live the peaceful life she always wanted. Did you see what happened to her son?"

"He wasn't at the house, so I suppose he's alive. We have to protect him, though; nothing guarantees us that those monsters won't come back."

"I'll take care of it, Ophelia. Now eat your breakfast and go watch the photos from last night with your grandma."

"Papa, I need to ask another question," I murmured, and when he nodded, I continued, "What is this necklace the vampires were talking about?"

"I'll figure it out, angel, and I'll let you know. There's nothing you have to worry about; they probably were talking gibberish," grandpa replied, but I could sense that he wasn't entirely honest with me.

"Ophelia, I made pancakes for you," Nana Eve said before I had the chance to retort.

We ate breakfast, I spent some time with my grandma gossiping about the events of the wedding, and then I went straight to my room and began painting. I drew the exterior of the house and the garden; I made portraits of the three vampires and the couple. I painted the living room, Ester's bedroom, and their son's room; I drew the church and the kid's playground. Grandpa closely observed each of my paintings. It took me almost ten days to complete everything I wanted, and thankfully that was how my mom's honeymoon trip lasted. Surely, Papa Peter didn't need my paintings to find the woman or learn where she lived, but he made extra copies of the vampire's portraits and took them.

They didn't tell me anything for a long time, and I didn't dare to ask. I knew that my grandpa never broke a promise; he'd tell me everything when he was ready. We informed my mom about what happened when she came back. She looked concerned and probably scared. I couldn't blame her; these vampires were searching for something they thought that the Keepers protect. We're Keepers; that meant they could attack and kill us at any given chance.

I trained even harder so that I'd be able to protect my family. Chris and David didn't know the truth, not yet. My mom decided it was better not to tell them, under these circumstances, and my grandparents agreed with her. I believed that David ought to learn the truth, but Christopher could stay in the dark, at least until he finishes high school.

I'm not sure if my fourteen years old self dealt with it better or whether I had somehow become used to these nightmares, but I didn't have the same outburst as the first time. I kept painting memories and scenes of the dream for a very long time, though.

Two months after the night of the wedding and that nightmare I had, Grandpa Peter informed me about the progress of his investigation. Ester and her husband were murdered the same night my mom married David. That night I became part of a family, while another one was ruined. Ester's son was living at the campus dorms; that's why he wasn't killed, too. However, he was the one who discovered his parents' bodies. The local Police Department managed to cover up the murder. In their reports, it appeared as a robbery that went wrong. Ester's son was safe, and grandpa made sure he'd stay that way.

Papa Peter contacted the Senatus de sanguine himself and demanded they surrender the guilty vampires. Luck wasn't on our side because the Senatus didn't recognize them nor had ever approved of them becoming vampires. That meant two things: firstly, rogue vampires were roaming freely out there, and secondly, a lunatic was creating bloodthirsty killing machines uncontrollably. I couldn't decide what was worse…

Grandpa promised me that he'd work closely with the Senatus and some other Keepers to eliminate the rogue vampires. As much as I wanted to take part in the mission, I was pretty sure that neither my mom nor my grandparents would let me. Thus, I tried to concentrate back on my routine; school, training, spending time with my friends and family and painting.

It was a lovely Sunday afternoon; we were having dinner at my grandparents' house, so I came earlier to paint for a while. My old room was full of paintings and drawings to the point that someone couldn't even find a place to sit. I was focused on the canvas I was working on and didn't realize that someone else was in the room with me.

"You rarely paint humans," I heard Christopher say in a small voice.

"I'm not very fond of portraits," I replied and looked better at the painting in front of me.

A man was dancing with a woman. The woman had her back turned, but I could tell she was beautiful; her vivid red hair was up in a neat bun, and she was wearing a backless, silk, black dress. The man was wearing a white shirt, the first buttons undone, he was handsome with raven hair and grey eyes; he was looking exactly like Jack.

"But you seem to like painting these three people," he remarked, and I looked at him confused.

"What do you mean?"

"When it comes to portraits, or when you paint humans, you use three people. You have never painted your mother or your grandparents; you paint only them. And I think you have a bigger preference for this young man," he said, pointing at the half-finished painting.

I contemplate his words for a few moments. Truth be told, Jack was my imaginary model for many paintings. I believe that I kept painting him because that was a way to keep him alive, at least in my memories. He was right. "I hadn't noticed that. I guess it happens unintentionally," I muttered.

"Who are they, Ophelia?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," I whispered, as I was on the verge of tears. I had to stop this madness. Painting Jack, Ester, or her husband wouldn't bring them back. It was just a way to remember them; to not let my mind forget the tragic things that happened to them.

"You know them? Are these people real?"

"I just saw them in my dreams, Chris."

He searched a bit through my paintings, and I observed him with curiosity. "You saw them being murdered in your dreams?" he inquired showing, me a portrait of Ester lying in a pool of blood. "You saw them dying in your dreams?" he asked again, this time holding a painting of Jack at the night of the explosion.

"I just imagined these things. Not everyone is good and safe out there, Chris. Humans are dying or being murdered; there is evil and misery. We may be happy right now, but you know better than me how pain and sorrows taste."

"So, you tell me that you have nothing to do with these murders and that you only imagined them?"

"I just have a wild imagination, Chris. You think I'm capable of killing someone?" I asked, hurt and offended by his words.

"Just stay out of trouble, please."

"Of course, I will; I promise," I said, a small smile spreading on my lips.

"Oh, and it's about time to paint my portrait. I'm more handsome than him."

"Whatever you say," I chuckled lightly.

"That was easier than I thought. Now come. Dinner's ready, and I'm starving," he said, and we walked to the dining room together.

I smiled, watching my loved ones sitting around the table, eating, drinking some wine, talking, laughing. I was so lucky to live moments like these, to make memories like these.

I had to taste rejection to know how it is to be part of a caring family. I had to get hurt to feel the warmth of love. I had to taste pain to appreciate the small moments of happiness...

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