My Ice Prince

I knocked on Maria’s room and entered without permission. My sister was packing clothes in a large black suitcase: she and our brothers would soon be leaving for the place where they lived. Since they were a hundred years old, each of them had left their parents' home and had travelled many times from place to place. Maria was now living in Ottawa, Martin in Croatia, and Mścislav was in his third year of an expedition to the Himalayas with his vampire friends who had kindly agreed to wait for his return from our sister Mariszka's wedding. And now that that wedding was over and I was allowed to go to England, Mariszka and the brothers were preparing to leave.

It took my breath away to think that I would be leaving this house and our parents with them.

– A sweet little bird who wants to leave her nest! – Maria said cheerfully when she saw me. – I heard your conversation with Mariszka.

– At first she was categorically against my admission! – I also cheerfully exclaimed.

– Don't worry, Mariszka has always been tedious.

– Well, maybe she's overprotective of me. And about the bird: you yourself were the same! – I parried, coming to my sister's bed, with legs climbed on it.

– Why do you need that dress in Ottawa? – I asked, seeing something black in lace. – I took the piece of satin, which I thought barely covered anything, and twirled it around in my hands.

– This is not a dress, but a negligee! – Maria said with a laugh, took the satin from me and threw it into my suitcase. – But it's too early for you to wear such things, so don't get excited.

– And I'm not going to! – I snorted back.

– I was just about to ask you: how did you manage to get into Oxford without leaving Poland? – My sister asked, sitting down next to me.

I looked at her and couldn't believe that she was almost two hundred years older than me, when to others we were the same age.

– It wasn't easy. You know you have to come to the interview in person, and I was afraid that my offer to do it over Skype would be rejected. But I took precaution and sent them a certificate that I have a severe form of bronchitis and for health reasons…

– Where did you get it from, you wretch? – Maria laughed.

– I forged it, of course! But I did not lie so much: I am forbidden to go outside our garden, if I am not with my parents or one of you. Well, I'll tell you more: I was interviewed on Skype, they asked me questions, sometimes stupid and illogical, but I answered them all, and it was not easy for me… I was so excited that I forgot many English words! But they praised me for my interesting answers and said that my English was very fu

– Clever girl. And what college did you get into?

– St John's College, philosophy department.

Maria propped her chin up with her palm and sighed.

– I went there once… But that was fifty years ago» she said, closing her eyes dreamily. – Oh, what parties were organised there!

– Fifty years ago? But Mścislav advised me…» I began in surprise, not understanding my brother's logic.

– He did the right thing! Yes, I studied at St. John's fifty years ago, but only three years ago I graduated from another college – All Saints'. By the way, your sister was a big name there!

– Then why don't you tell me about living in a university flat? – I asked.

– What? – Maria looked at me in disbelief. – I've heard about it, but I thought you were joking.

I shrugged silently.

– 'My naive little sister, you're not living in a university flat! You know what? I'll find you a nice family to rent you a flat – it's much better than living among mortal girls. Besides, your social circle should be strictly limited to teachers and tutors.

– Why do you think so? – I asked unhappily, because in my dreams I was already safely ensconced in my university flat.

– Because you don't belong in the circle of mortals. Especially among girls. Living in a sorority is horrible. It's not what you see in the films, believe me. I lived in a university flat for a year and then I moved into a private flat. I couldn't get along there, and you certainly can't.

– Thank you for your support! – I exclaimed wryly.

Maria smiled sweetly and continued packing her clothes into her suitcase.

– I don't mean that you are weak. I'm saying that living in a university flat, you won't be able to eat properly» she explained.

Eat? I'd forgotten about that… No, I hadn't thought about it, because I'd always eaten at home, not caring how the blood got on our table or in our glasses. Well, my table, because my parents only ate on the hunt.

– No one is going to serve you fresh blood in a nice bottle» Maria added, probably noticing my confusion.

– But… How am I supposed to eat? – I frowned.

– If you rent a flat, you'll find a way. In fact, I think it's time for you to get your own blood.

– You mean killing people? – I clarified.

– Yes, killing. But I'm worried about how you'll do it: no one taught you how to hunt. That's a parental failure!

– I don't think killing is that hard» I replied calmly. – Martin has told me a thousand times about killing. Especially the case of the German postman: I've heard about it dozens of times and in the most vivid colours.

– Listening to Martin is one thing, but killing is quite another. Killing is hard both mentally and physically. Especially at your age

– But you learnt how to do it somehow» I argued.

– I did. I mean, my parents taught me.

– And I'll learn, eventually. I'm a vampire, and it's my destiny, and I'm as strong and agile as you are, aren't I?

– Pretty much. It takes a lot of training to control your abilities. You can't learn it all at once. – Maria looked at me seriously. – So, think about it, Misha, think about it.

I looked at my sister and thought that I would be perfectly able to cope with all this. After all, I am Misha Mroczek. A vampire. I'm no worse than my sisters.

But I didn't say anything.

– I'll get you a flat in East Oxford, on Cowley Road, where I used to live. Don't worry about a thing, I'll sort it out» Maria said suddenly.

I nodded absently: it still hadn't dawned on me that I'd have to feed myself. I would have to hunt people and kill them.

«It'll be okay, because this is just another step in my development. I need to grow up and become a real vampire» I reassured myself, but I felt vaguely afraid of the uncertainty ahead.

But Maria began to tell me about her studies at Oxford, and that fear vanished. As I listened to her, my heart burned with a desire to go there as soon as possible. I imagined how I would wear a strict black and white uniform, ride to college on a bicycle, sit in lectures… And about the food… No one will never know why I don't eat in the college canteen, because in my head I had a wonderful story that would be my most natural excuse.

– What are you smiling at? – Maria asked in surprise.

I woke up from my thoughts.

– I'm just glad that I'm finally going to be free. I guess your parents didn't treat you the way they treat me. You know, you tell me about your life there, and I see it all before my eyes» I explained. – But I need you to tell me how, where, and when to kill.

– Oh, that goes without saying. So just sit there and memorise. It's better to mark everything on the map, though.

I ran to my room and came back to my sister with a map of Oxford.

– Well, let's get started! Give me a pencil» Maria said.

We sat down on the bed and my sister began her instruction, which I didn't understand or even remember at all.

The next day Maria flew away, leaving me a list of advice handwritten in her beautiful calligraphic handwriting. Rereading it, I involuntarily laughed at the stupidest and banal, but so ridiculous situations described. For example: «If a pigeon shits on you, don't get angry and don't show your displeasure with words, gestures or facial expressions, otherwise everyone will think that you hate pigeons and birds in general. To avoid such a fate, always carry a spare robe with you.» Or: «If you get hit by a cyclist, don't get up from the pavement at once, but pretend to hit something (preferably your hand), then scold him a little, but don't overdo it, get up and with a disgruntled face leave, accepting his sincere (and not so sincere) apologies». But that was just the flowers untill I got to the point of how to behave in the ladies' toilet, I just couldn't stop laughing: «Never, under any circumstances, slam the doors, otherwise, the cleaning lady Mrs. Rees will have a heart attack. Always close doors gently, calmly, like a lady, even if you're being chased by a maniac with a huge knife.»