My Ice Prince

The girl was sitting on the road, apparently not realising what had happened: her high hairdo had disintegrated and her long, beautiful golden hair had fallen down her back and chest. A bicycle with a bent rear wheel lay beside her.

I walked over to the girl.

– I apologise, miss. I hope you're okay? – I asked, bending towards her.

She raised a fury burning gaze at me.

«Maria?» – rushed through my mind, barely seeing the marvellous, familiar features.

– Maria? – I involuntarily burst out loud.

– He asks for forgiveness! How honourable! Do you think I don't know that you ran me down on purpose!? – the girl exclaimed angrily. – Stop! How do you know my sister?

Looking at her closely, I was convinced that I was wrong – it wasn't Maria.

'She's Maria’s sister? But Maria never told me that she had another sister. I know Mariszka!» – I thought, looking at the girl.

Of course, she was Maria’s sister: the same features, the same eyes, the same eyebrows and hair… But this girl was different, some gentle, tender, in her look there was no passion, which always blazed Maria’s look. The girl I hit looked like a very young vampire.

«I wonder how old she is? And that stupid bright blue nail polish on her nails» I thought mockingly.

– She and I used to be friends» I replied, completely confused: it was Maria’s sister in front of me, and I had just hit her. Wow, what a coincidence. – What are you doing here?

– Studying, of course! And you hit me and dented my bike! I'm sitting on the road like an idiot, and everyone's looking at it! – suddenly shouted the girl and quickly got to her feet.

If there had been a mortal on the bike, she would have broken something for sure, but this golden-haired hysteric didn't even get a scratch, and I knew why.

– It was your fault: who made you stop the moment I stepped on the gas? – Despite my icy calm, I began to lose my temper.

The situation was like a silly farce.

– I stopped at the traffic lights! – shrieked the girl, adjusting her skirt. – And you, if you don't know how to drive, first learn, and then drive, otherwise, you'll hit a lot of people! If you haven't already, like I just did! Who gave you a driver's licence?

***

I looked at his face with disdain, but I was struck and frowned at the same time: very pale, paler than my own, perfect skin, pale lips, beautiful but cold, almost blue eyes, dark hair. And his voice was nice: low, but also kind of cold. Too perfect a look for such a villain.

«He's a vampire? Yes, he must be… Too handsome for a human» I thought involuntarily, not believing my eyes.

– You…» I stretched out, but I had to be careful not to say too much in public.

– No, you little hysteric, it wasn't me, it was you who broke the rules of the road by riding your bicycle on the carriageway. What do you think this bike lane is for? You caused a huge traffic jam! – The unfamiliar vampire raised his voice.

«I wonder if he realised I'm a vampire too?» – I thought, but when I heard his last sentence, I boiled with anger like Mary's kettle in our kitchen.

– How dare you! – I exploded. – My sister must have made a mistake when she chose you as a mate, you rude bastard!

– Learn to drive by the rules, you hysterical girl. – The bastard didn't even bother to help me with my bike.

I looked round: there was a crowd of onlookers around us, probably not very happy that we were blocking the road. It was just like in that film: the girl had jumped off the roof, and the neighbours were very sad that they had to suffer some inconvenience because of her suicide – now they had to clean up the pavement!

I had a lot more to say to this insolent man, but I decided it was useless to fight him: he even called me «hysterical»! He's a boor, not a vampire! And he's wearing an Oxford robe!

– Why don't you go? – I said one last time, then picked up my bike and, despite the bent rear wheel, got on it, going to leave this unfu

But suddenly an unfamiliar vampire grabbed my forearm.

– Wait a minute. Are you Maria’s sister? – he asked.

– What do you care? Do you have a hearing problem? – I replied grudgingly. – Who gave you permission to touch me? Get your hands off me now!

– But Maria never told me about you. – It was as if he hadn't heard me and hadn't taken his hand away.

***

– Take your hands off me or I'll scream! – She said in such a convincing tone that I knew she would carry out her threat.

I thought she was stupid and hysterical, but I still wanted to know who she was. Maria’s sister! Here! In Oxford!

– Listen, my name is Fredrik Haraldson. Has Maria told you about me? – I asked, hoping that she had, but of course not all of it.

CHAPTER 5

The hysterical girl's grey-blue eyes rounded.

– 'Especially don't you dare grab my hands! And in fact, don't you dare touch me! And don't you dare talk to me either! – She yanked off her forearm and rode away. The bent wheel of her bicycle squeaked pitifully.

Unwillingly looking after Sister Maria, I realised that she would definitely never speak to me again.

«Does she really know?» – I thought, not taking my eyes off her straight, narrow back as she walked away from me. The girl's coat was soaking wet from the fall onto the wet pavement.

I don't know why, I don't know how, but I had an irresistible urge to follow Maria’s sister, and I rushed to the car, but suddenly I saw a white envelope lying on the road, already covered with drizzle. It must have fallen out of the hysterical girl's bag when she fell off her bicycle.

I picked up the envelope, got into the car, ignoring the drivers' shouts of displeasure, and followed the girl carefully, keeping a good distance, knowing that she was unlikely to think that she was being followed. Finally, I saw her turn onto Cowley Road and stop outside a two-storey old looking cottage with white wooden windows, put her bike down by the stairs, put a lock on it and went into the house.

Now that I knew where she lived, I decided that I would definitely stop by to visit her: I wanted to talk to her, to find out what she knew about me and Maria. On the way home, I wondered how this girl had ended up here in this city, for if Maria had told her what had happened between us, this hysterical girl would never have come to Oxford, where I lived. After that unpleasant incident, Maria and I gave each other our word that we would never meet again. And so, in Oxford, I had just met her sister, about whom Maria had told me nothing.

When I got home, I threw off my robe and clothes and took a shower: I wanted to wash away the unpleasant feeling that had come over me after seeing Maria’s sister, but I realised with doom that I would never be able to forget that shame, because a living reminder of Maria would keep flashing before my eyes. I left the bathroom, put on clean clothes, picked up one of the fresh newspapers, sat down in an armchair, and began to read, but I couldn't concentrate on reading as I mentally returned to my encounter with the hysterical girl today.

«Maria’s sister. Another Mroczek. And I don't even know her name. And this girl's got a mouth on her!» – I gri

I tossed the paper aside and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

Of course, vampires didn't smoke, or rather, they could, but smoking was considered a plebeian habit, but I didn't care: I smoked often, and I didn't care whether I was considered a plebeian or not. I'd never fit the mould of a normal, aristocratic vampire anyway, even though I was an aristocrat by birthright, but I didn't care.