Aphrodite

Rachel stirred, feeling Vlad’s warmth beside her, a presence that had become increasingly comforting. She smiled, reminiscing about the delightful day they had spent together. After their meaningful chat by the river, Vlad suggested setting aside their grim discussions for a day to focus on lighter topics like hobbies. He arranged a painting setup for her in the garden, observing as she expressed herself through art, and later, they joined Estella for dinner. Over the meal, Estella entertained them with tales of her first meeting with Vlad in Romania.

As Vlad stirred from sleep, the first thing he did was greet Rachel with a tender kiss on her forehead, a gesture that warmed her heart. They embraced, each moment drawing them closer, feeling the comfort and security in each other’s arms. The kisses that followed were slow and deliberate, deepening their connection in the quiet morning light.

Just as they were getting lost in the moment, with Vlad’s hand gently beginning to slide her shirt upwards, the abrupt ring of his phone shattered the moment. With a reluctant sigh, he reached out to answer it. After the call, Vlad looked back at Rachel, disappointment written all over his face, echoing the regret she was feeling.

“I’m sorry, but I have something I must attend to. Please, help yourself to anything in the kitchen, and enjoy the gardens. I will organise for your painting to be set up so you can finish your masterpiece.”

“Is everything ok?” Rachel couldn’t hide her concern, her expression turning into a slight pout.

“It’s just a human issue. I need to oversee my affairs to maintain appearances and avoid attracting unwanted attention,” he assured her, trying to alleviate her worries.

Vlad stood and quickly changed into a blue shirt paired with black pants, readying himself.

Curiosity sparked within Rachel. “So Vlad, where exactly are you from?”

He offered her a smile, tinged with amusement. “You’re asking this now, just as I’m about to leave?”

“I know Estella is from Romania, but I realised I’ve been so focused on this whole creature thing, I don’t know that much about you.”

Vlad let out a chuckle, a light-hearted note in his voice. “Well, once you find out how old I am, you might think twice about sharing a bed with me.”

“But, I could be old too, right?” she propped herself up, intrigued by his past.

“Your soul, but certainly not your body. I am from Bulgaria, but I did not stay long. I travelled and spent much of my younger years in Greece. In fact, it was believed you were in Rome when I was there. Merchants used to tell stories of you. But there was a great fire that destroyed the city you were said to be residing.”

He then leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Vlad, what about my stuff back at my apartment? When can I get them?” she asked, shifting to more immediate concerns.

“I’ve already purchased your art from the exhibition, that is in storage. We will need to give it some time before accessing your apartment as the humans are probably watching. But you need not worry, I will organise professionals to pack it and deliver it here.”

A pang of sadness struck her heart at the thought of abandoning her old life entirely. “So, I’m not going back?”

Vlad paused, fastening his watch. “You don’t enjoy it here?”

“It’s just... odd, moving on without really having the chance to process everything. I was content with my life as it was.”

“You were in danger. There is a new life for you here, without your human salary master, and without rental payments and bills,” he explained, trying to highlight the positives.

“That might sound more thrilling if it weren’t for a demon of destruction on my tail in this ‘new life,’” she quipped, trying to lighten the mood with humour.

“If sleeping in, painting, and spending time with someone as charming as myself isn’t appealing, just say the word, and I’ll think of something else.”

“No, no, I’m not complaining,” she assured him, her smile genuine.

“Please, try to enjoy yourself and get some rest,” he encouraged as he made his way out.

Once Vlad had departed, she settled back down, allowing herself a moment of relaxation in the quiet of the room. Eventually, she stirred from the bed, her movements slow and unhurried. That night, the Abaddon’s cries had pierced her dreams again, leaving her with a lingering weariness that was hard to shake off.

After taking a shower, Rachel headed to the kitchen to pick out her favourite fruits and decided to enjoy them during a leisurely walk in the garden. The brilliant hues of the flowers and the calming murmur of the river helped to cleanse her mind.

Rachel lingered in the gardens for hours, basking in the sunlight and losing herself in the enchanting beauty that surrounded her. Eventually, a sense of curiosity drew her back towards the house, wondering about Estella’s location, only to find the kitchen surprisingly empty.

As she moved towards her room, deep in thought, she paused, her hand resting on the stair railing. Her gaze drifted to the stairs leading downward, curiosity sparking within her about the mysteries that lay below. Compelled by a sense of adventure, she chose to explore.

Taking careful steps, Rachel descended into the darkness, the light from above fading with no switches to be found. At the bottom, she faced a pitch-black hallway. Searching for a light source and finding none, she took a deep breath and summoned her powers. With a wave, the hallway illuminated, and a smile of empowerment graced her face.

The corridor was lined with sophisticated dark wood panels up to shoulder height, above which rich, regal red paint adorned the walls. Paintings of European castles, set in sprawling landscapes, decorated the spaces between doors along the hallway. She tested the door handles she passed, finding them all securely locked, hinting at the mysteries within.

Her journey brought her to a short flight of stairs culminating in another door, stirring thoughts that perhaps it led to Vlad’s sanctuary. Anticipating it to be just as inaccessible as the others, she was pleasantly surprised when the door yielded without protest, creaking open to allow a stream of light inside. The crack revealed an inviting glimpse into a room heavy with the aroma of old books and the unmistakable scent of dust.

Once Rachel ensured the room was empty, she entered and gently shut the door. The space was beautifully arranged, featuring a large, plush rug in light blue, its edges detailed with golden borders and intricate red floral designs. Mahogany bookshelves, packed with an array of books, spanned the walls from floor to ceiling.

Near a broad window, a grand white piano accented with gold trim caught the light, adding to the room’s elegance. Across from it, a striking fireplace crafted from black marble stood out, its sophisticated curved millwork drawing the eye. Over the fireplace, a portrait of a young woman captured attention; her brown hair was pulled back, and she was dressed in a white gown with floral accents, her slender waist accentuated by the wide, bell-shaped skirt of her dress.

Rachel moved towards the window, where the rich red curtains were swept aside, showcasing the extensive garden blooming with trees in full flower. The estate was so expansive, she realised, laden with pathways she had yet to discover.

Adjacent to the piano, near the window, another painting caught her eye, this one of a magnificent palace. The canvas bore the marks of time, with its colours dulled and its intricacies fading into obscurity. Yet, the grandeur of chandeliers, pillars, and artworks faintly shone through, speckled with what appeared to be remnants of gold leaf. The painting, in its original glory, must have been a sight to behold.

Compelled by an unusual purple shimmer at the corner of the painting, Rachel reached out with her fingertip. At her touch, reality shifted around her, immersing her in the vibrant sounds of violins, mingled with voices and laughter. She spun around, attempting to grasp the blurred scene that appeared before her, the words around her unintelligible. Despite her confusion, a profound sense of déjà vu embraced her, connecting her to this unfamiliar yet oddly familiar world.

Looking down in shock, Rachel discovered she was clad in a gown reminiscent of the portrait’s, her own attire a soft purple with a voluminous skirt that seemed even grander. The fabric’s texture was startlingly tangible under her fingers. Pressing a hand to her chest, she felt the corset’s tight embrace, the garment constricting her breath, its weight a tangible reminder of the era’s constraints she had seemingly stepped into.

Struggling for breath under the tight corset, Rachel noticed an indistinct figure drawing near—a man of middle age whose features she couldn’t quite make out.

“Pourquoi es-tu ici tout seul?” he asked, his voice strikingly familiar.

Confused, Rachel shook her head, unable to comprehend his words. “You are French?”

He laughed gently, amusement in his tone. “Vous avez bu trop de vin, mademoiselle.”

Looking down, Rachel found an empty wine glass in her hand. “Do I know you? You seem so familiar to me.”

“I think you’ve enjoyed yourself quite enough for one evening. Perhaps it’s time to escort you to your quarters for some rest,” he suggested, his French accent pronounced, wrapping his suggestion in a tone of courteous concern.

“Who are you?” Rachel asked. His features remained a blur, yet she was sure his voice was one she had heard before.

Leaning closer, he whispered into her ear, “Aphrodite, you cannot keep running.”

The moment the glass fell from her hand, breaking upon the floor, the surrounding sounds of conversation and violin music ceased, plunging the scene into silence.

“Running from what?” Rachel managed to whisper, her throat tightening as she spoke.

“You cannot keep drinking your problems away, mademoiselle. You must let me help you find a way to stop him. We can break the cycle.”

His hand, warm and reassuring, took hers, easing the panic that had quickened her pulse. Lifting her gaze, she found herself looking into his now clear brown eyes.

“Henri,” Rachel gasped out, her sudden recognition jolting her awake, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Shit.”

Clutching her temples, she tried to ease the throbbing pain that had taken hold. She must have fallen after touching the painting. Now, she found herself alone in the room within Vlad’s estate, the vision of Henri lingering in her mind. There was a connection she couldn’t quite grasp—another human entwined in her struggle to escape the relentless demon pursuing her.

In her confusion, Rachel felt a deep, unexplainable bond with Henri. His voice, his nearness, even the sensation of his hand in hers felt not just familiar but intimate, suggesting he had been a pivotal figure in her life once. But how could she remember someone from a life she didn’t even know she had lived?

Seeking solace, Rachel sat at the piano by the window, attempting to anchor herself amid the whirl of nausea and dizziness that followed her bizarre experience. She pondered whether she had simply fainted and dreamt vividly or if she had touched something beyond a dream’s reach. The authenticity of the dress’s heaviness, the ambient scents, and sounds seemed too detailed for mere imagination.

But even if it was real, she knew it wouldn’t help her. Piecing together fragments of history wouldn’t stop the Abaddon in his tracks. She needed something more tangible, something she could use to fight back.

As her dizziness eased, Rachel focused on a nearby bookshelf. The books’ spines were faded, their titles obscured by time. She carefully selected a volume. Its embossed brown cover still bore hints of gold, and it was adorned with a raven set within an elaborate border.

The book’s interior revealed elegant cursive handwriting. The initial pages painted the picture of a country through descriptions of its landscape and architectural elegance. She leafed through detailed accounts of towns, noting their industries and trading habits. It appeared to be an explorer’s journal. Just as she considered closing the book, a single word leaped out at her: “creature.” Captivated, she delved deeper into the text:

A gentleman, believed to be a creature, made his presence known in this town at the dawn of the century. Esteemed and respected, he was recognised by the townsfolk as the whisperer of animals. During his residency, herds remained untouched by sly foxes, and maladies and injuries healed with remarkable speed.

He led a solitary existence and, as it is said, vanished after half a century. The people of the town speculated that he was, in truth, a practitioner of witchcraft, for he never exhibited signs of aging. They surmised that he departed to conceal his unnatural state when the local Pastor began to scrutinise his mysterious abilities. The farmers who tended to the fields sought him out, disheartened by his sudden absence.

Alas, upon his departure, the foxes and feral hounds returned. Cattle succumbed to sickness at a young age, and the heart-wrenching incidence of stillbirths rose once more. The Pastor proclaimed it to be the workings of a malevolent demon, leaving a trail of wickedness in its wake.

This marks the third instance in which this enigmatic man has been documented in various towns across our land throughout the centuries. Thus far, he has been known by the appellations Nathaniel, Jonathan, and now Benjamin.

It is conjectured that the mysterious being came into existence prior to the 1600s and was last observed in the year 1880.

Startled by Estella’s voice, Rachel quickly shut the book and shoved it back into its place on the shelf, using the piano as cover for her actions.

“What are you doing in here?” Estella asked.

“I was looking for you this morning and ended up here,” Rachel explained, brushing off her clothes as she rose to her feet.

“I had to help Vlad with something urgent—a creature in distress.” Estella glanced up at the portrait of the woman on the wall. “You might want to keep it to yourself that you were in here. This room was supposed to be locked.”

Rachel approached Estella. “Why does Vlad hide all of this? Was this one of his lovers?” she asked, gesturing towards the portrait.

Estella laughed softly. “The human world isn’t always friendly to our kind, and it can be isolating to live as a creature. Many of these rooms served as sanctuaries for other beings like us.”

Rachel noted the absence of a bed, indicating the room’s purpose wasn’t for rest. “There’s no bed in here?”

“The bookcase conceals a secret passage,” Estella revealed.

“But there are no creatures here now? The doors are locked, and I haven’t seen another soul.”

Estella looked down, a shadow of sorrow crossing her face as she pressed her lips together, struggling to conceal her grief. “Many of them perished over the last decades. Humans made such rapid advances following the wars. We had coexisted with them for ages, underestimating their drive. One managed to escape human cruelty and returned to us, but his powers were lost; he claimed they were stolen. Sadly, he only survived a few weeks more.”

As a tear traced its way down Estella’s cheek, Rachel instinctively wrapped her arms around her in a comforting embrace.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” Rachel murmured, her own heart heavy with the shared sorrow.

Estella indulged in a moment of vulnerability, her sobs brief yet profound, before she composed herself, dabbing away the tears and stepping back. “The spirits of those we’ve lost would be angry at me for this display of sorrow. Especially her,” she said, nodding towards the portrait of the woman.

Rachel’s eyes returned to the bookshelf. “Do these books have anything on the Phoenix or the Abaddon?”

Estella looked around the room, her face reflecting doubt—maybe she hadn’t explored the books herself. “I doubt there’s anything here that could directly help with the Abaddon, but as for the Phoenix, possibly. Creatures who mastered writing were urged to document their interactions with others, helping us keep track of them. If anyone’s journeyed to Italy, where the Phoenix was last seen, it could be mentioned in these.”

As Rachel examined the book’s spine closely, finding no hint of its secrets, she felt at a loss. “How would we even know where to begin?”

“Only Vlad would know. These books are hidden away for a reason. Apart from him, no one comes here. I came looking for you. Humans once extracted information from creatures under torture, seeking to discover others. I’ve avoided these books myself, unwilling to inadvertently reveal any creature’s refuge.”

Placing a comforting hand on Rachel’s shoulder, Estella offered a change of subject. “Let’s head back. Vlad will return by sunset, and he’s arranged for your friend to join us for dinner.”

Rachel paused, taken aback. “Beth is coming to dinner?” she clarified, disbelief colouring her tone at the unexpectedness of Vlad’s gesture.

“Yes, Beth and Adam.” The news sent a wave of excitement through Rachel, nearly eliciting an audible squeal of delight. Estella’s knowing smirk suggested she understood the joy this arrangement brought.

“I’ve left a dress on your bed and a gift from Vlad. They will be here shortly after sunset.” Taking Rachel’s hand, Estella led her towards the door, adding, “We must go now. And remember, what we discussed here stays between us.”