Chapter Amsterdam, September 1898
Little Fox,
I’ve changed my mind. Stop looking. Lead the small, normal life you should have. Forget how it felt as I held you in my arms.
Forget my touch, my scent, the weight of my eyes on yours.
Forget who you were, forget who you might have been.
Forget the pain when you saw me standing over your father’s body.
You were never meant for this. You were never going to solve this, and it was cruel of me to let you hope. I thought you better prepared. I thought, eventually, you could help me. I was wrong.
I am always wrong about Van Helsings, it would seem. I wanted so badly to be right about you, though.
But no matter. Give up. Betray your nature to save your life. When you die someday, I promise you’ll haunt me, as you haunt me already. Let that be enough.
Kind Regards,
Diavola