Possessed hearts

Idiots. The most appropriate word for such mortals.

– So are we going to the airport? – I asked only now.

– Yes, to Václav Havel," I replied, looking in the rear-view mirror as if searching for ways to escape from the chaos surrounding us.

– And what did you forget there? – I wondered.

– Not what, but who. Brandon.

I sighed unhappily. I did not, did not want to see that vampire! Ever!

– Are you bringing him to the castle? – I asked, hoping for a no.

– No. It's just that he's gone and left his iPad at the castle.

– Are you saying we're going to Vaclav Havel just because of that little thing?

– For him, losing his iPad is not nothing.

– Oh, yeah, I forgot. He's a famous philanthropist and businessman. – I let out a chuckle.

Brandon Grayson. Philanthropist. Hypocrite.

– Exactly. There he was! – Markus nodded towards the airport exit.

Damn it! Why did I waste all that time interrogating Markus? I should have jumped out of the car and run!

– You know what, I think I'm go

To buy perfume. What an abominable reason. But I couldn't think of anything else. I had to escape, and I did.

– Pick you up? – I suddenly heard Markus' voice.

– Yes, I suppose so. I'll be at the Palladium," I replied. My heels clicked against the pavement. – You'll find me there.

– Great, I hope you won't get lost in the ocean of perfume bottles… Hi, it's good to see you again," I heard my brother-in-law's voice again.

– It's good to see you again. Thanks for coming. – It was Brandon Grayson's voice. It was beautiful. Low. Sexy.

Beyond my will, I turned around. My body betrayed me.

Brandon was standing outside Markus's car, leaning slightly against the window. A smile played on his lips. A charming one. Like himself. Black suit. Black leather gloves. Black sunglasses. Elegance in the flesh.

I stared at him without breathing.

Bastard. Hypocrite. I hated him.

Turning sharply, I continued on my way, desperately hoping he wouldn't notice my unspoken presence.

He didn't.

Quite quickly I reached the shopping centre and wrapped myself in the first perfume shop, bought a bottle of my favourite perfume, found a lonely table in a small but cosy café, ordered a cup of expensive coffee for the sake of appearances, and sank into my thoughts. It was a miracle I'd managed to bring my purse with my credit cards.

I was woozy to the core. Why the hell had I flown here? Hadn't seen my parents, my brothers and sisters? Did I want to meet my nephew? Finally get to spend some time with Misha? What am I doing here? Sitting in this stupid cafe, hiding like a rat. From who? Who is the person I'm hiding from like a lowlife?

It's me.

I'm the one sitting here amongst the clamouring, foul-smelling, death-smelling people. This is me sitting here in my short holiday dress. This is me all alone. Without a phone. Without common sense. Me and my thoughts.

But what is this unseemly behaviour, Maria? Squaring your shoulders. It's just one day. One bloody endless day, and you'll live it like you've lived decades and centuries before. Wars. Catastrophes. One day, Maria, and you'll be free.

– I'm here.

I flinched.

Markus's voice came over the hum of thousands of voices, saving me from spiritual suicide.

– I'm coming," I said, barely audibly, and left the café. – Where are you?

– In the car park.

– You two had a quick chat," I said quietly, walking toward the escalator leading to the underground three-level car park.

– He was in a hurry. He had a meeting in London.

– The ever-busy benefactor. Mortals just have to kiss his shoes.

– Leave it. I don't see why you don't like him. – Markus asked with a laugh.

– Why should I like him? – I gri

– You don't, but as far as I know, you've never liked him.

– Wrong. I'm just indifferent to the fact that he exists.

I found Markus's car and sat in the back seat.

Markus gri

– Put your seatbelt on, please, I don't want to get fined," he said.

I complied silently and kept my eyes on my dark red perfume bottle all the way to the castle. I had no desire to talk.

Luckily, Markus seemed to realise this, because he didn't say a word the whole way. Maybe he'd guessed the real reason I'd run away. I was so insistent on asking him about that damn Grayson…

Where's your mind, Maria? You're acting like a crazy idiot. Don't talk. Always be quiet and be happy. The smile must never leave your lips. You're free. You are beautiful. People's lives are your domain. You are Death's reaper. You are Death's helper. And you will not stoop to what Life insists you do.

***

Half an hour after we got back to the castle, it was time to open the presents, and I have to say, little Cedric was very professional and quick to unwrap the pile of boxes he'd been given. It seems that this little vampire is the happiest kid in the world. He has everything a three year old intelligent person's brain could wish for and think of. My present – a small, but incredibly high quality and fast toy helicopter – was also to Cedric's liking, so from the moment of their acquaintance, the couple never parted for a moment: the helicopter flew around the castle, and Cedric ran after it with a remote control. The baby was just shining with happiness. Well, I was extremely pleased with myself, because his mother's gift – a collection of colourful books with Polish fairy tales – was forgotten the moment he unwrapped the box and almost instantly threw it back to the mountain of already opened presents. I will never forget that keen sense of satisfaction when Mariszka's face was covered with undisguised disappointment at the sight of what fate had befallen her "lovingly chosen" gift. Our parents had given their grandson a black as tar Arabian horse, which, according to their assurances, was waiting for a small but proud owner in the country cottage of Mariszka and Markus. Of course, Mariszka immediately expressed her doubts that "giving a child an adult horse is dangerous, why not a pony?", which made everyone present, including her husband, roll their eyes. Misha and Fredrik presented their nephew with a synthesiser, expressing the hope that they would soon hear his own compositions. Expensive, pompous gifts. And only Cedric did something blatantly magical – he gave his nephew a ball and a promise to play football with him whenever the kid wanted to, and if Cedric senior was within reach (I think he didn't mean departures, but unwillingness to come out of his melancholy and lonely voluntary imprisonment in his gloomy world).

To summarise: the holiday was a success.

But soon, thankfully, it was time to part. When saying goodbye, I gave my sweet Misha a beautiful expensive dress, which I ordered in the best atelier in Toronto, according to my sketch. Misha was ecstatic, rushed to hug me and reminded me once again of my promise to come to every one of her birthdays.

"Oh, Misha, you're just taking advantage of my love!" – went through my head. But her happy eyes immediately killed any hope of excuses in me.

– And remember that you can always come to us, at any time of the year and day! – Misha chirped, not letting me out of her arms. – You're always welcome!

I suppressed a laugh. Oh, yes, Fredrik, indeed. Naive little sister.

– Maybe we'll fly to Toronto to see you! – Misha suddenly exclaimed.