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“I used to cry, too. A long time ago. So long ago I cannot remember why I cried. ” She pursed her lips. “I sometimes wish I could remember. ”

“Was it for your family?” I asked.

She raised her dark eyes and frowned. “But my family is here. ”

“No, I mean your mortal family. ”

Ariana considered this for a long moment, then shook her head. “I do not remember them. ”

I sighed heavily and patted Ariana’s cheek lightly before moving on. She was such a simple child. Perhaps it was best she remembered nothing so she could embrace the decaying grandeur of the castle and the cold creatures that inhabited it.

“Glynis?”

“Yes,” I said, casting a glance over my shoulder.

She seemed almost shy. “Would you…would you like me to show you something?”

I was about to deny the young girl, but something about her expression held a resemblance to my beloved May, so I sighed. “All right, Ariana. What is it?”

She smiled and reached out her small hand. “It is a secret. Come. I will show you. ”

I took her hand and hurried after her as the dark haired vampire led me up a series of winding stairways and down long corridors. She drew me so quickly behind her the world rushed past me, and I had the sensation of flight. All at once, she stopped, whirling about before clutching me close to her.

“Tell no one I brought you here,” she said in a low voice, her eyes gleaming.

Smiling brightly, Ariana pushed a door open and lead me into a large room filled with dozens of traveling trunks. Many were already open, the contents thrown about haphazardly on the dusty floor. Six trunks stood out sharply. Each was graced with a brass W on the front latch. With a small cry, I threw myself down before one of the trunks and fumbled with the latches. The lid swung upwards to reveal my father’s favorite traveling coat.

“Father,” I whispered, reaching into the trunk. I drew out the coat and smelt the fine fragrance of my father’s favorite cigars. “Oh, Father. ”

Ariana stood beside me with anxious eyes. Her little hands were twisting her curly hair into tight little spirals.

I crawled over to another trunk and opened it. The sweet aroma of lavender wafted up to me as I laid a hand gently on the fine silk gown Mother had loved so. Wrapping my father’s coat around my shoulders, I moved on to May’s trunk. Peering inside, I found May’s battered little doll, Emily. Mother had the doll made for May when she was just a little girl, and it had May’s own hair as its curly locks.

“Dearest May, are you praying for me?” I whispered, then kissed the hard porcelain lips of the doll.

Hugging the doll close, I moved over to my own trunk. Opening it, I drew in my breath sharply. It was as if I were opening a doorway into my mortal life. Drawing back the folds of my many dresses, my hands searched for the small jewelry case I kept my personal treasures in. My hands felt the hard surface and I drew the box from the depths of the trunk.

“What is that?”

“It is my treasure chest, May,” I answered. Realizing what I had said, I looked up at Ariana. “I mean…Ariana…”

The vampire smiled faintly. Her eyes were sympathetic, soft, and, I thought, caring. “He gave her to us. ”

I nodded, biting my quivering bottom lip. I understood far too well the power of the hunger. Best not to think of that or of May’s death or else I should go mad.

I reached one hand back into the trunk and felt under the lining until I found the small tear I was searching for. I drew out a small key I had hidden in the lining of the chest and fit it into the lock of my jewelry case. It clicked open and I sat back on my heels with a sigh. Directly on top was a sketch of Lord Byron I had snipped from a newspaper.

“Who is that?” Ariana knelt next to me, leaning forward to gaze down at the picture.

“The love of my very short, unromantic life,” I sighed.

“Your lover? With such full lips his kisses must have been so wonderful, “ Ariana decided with a coy flip of her head.

“Actually, I never kissed him. I met him just once at a friend’s house. I was very young and I think he thought I was a delightful nuisance. I always fancied meeting him on the Continent and having him fall madly in love with me. He is a poet from England. His name is Lord Byron. He is most scandalous. ” I laid the clipping on the floor and drew out a much-tattered magazine. “This is something he wrote. At least that is what the magazine says. My brother, Andrew, says a friend of his wrote it. It is a story about a vampire. ” I let out a little laugh.

“Really? A vampire? Like us?” Ariana was intrigued. “What does it say?”

“You know if I had not read this, I would not have known what you are. What I am now. I remember reading it late at night, grasping a candle in one hand and a cross in the other. I was so frightened. I asked my mother about vampires the very next day. She told me to stop indulging in such fanciful tales. ”