Chapter Two
Lilith
I watched as Adrian paced about the room like a caged tiger. I could sense that his skin felt tight on him, that he was aching to jump right out of it and run away from himself, from whatever truth this scroll held. I gave him a few moments to try and compose himself, then I approached him, as he stood by the window and gazed outside. The sun was high in the sky, painting everything in a sparkly, golden hue, almost as if someone had give you glasses that made the entire world sparkle for just one brief moment.
I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head on his shoulders. I closed my eyes, trying to absorb some of his anxiety, although I knew that there was little I could do to help him. I could just be there for him, until we figured out what this whole mess really was and whether it was really true or not. Although the very fact that my father had kept it hidden from everyone, nestled inside his safe, already proved one thing, and that was that my father believed it was true.
“It can’t be true,” I finally heard him say.
He didn’t turn around, although I could probably imagine how deep and fathomless his eyes were right now. And his voice… I couldn’t remember the last time he sounded so helpless, so lost.
I inhaled deeply, squeezing him tighter. This time, he curled his fingers around my hands and caressed them. The sun was still bathing us in a soft, honey-golden afternoon light.
“Maybe it’s not,” I finally said, although without much conviction.
As the wind rustled through the leaves of the ancient oak tree in the garden, the air around us remained heavy with the weight of this revelation.
“I don’t know how to feel about this,” he continued, gently leaving the comfort of my embrace and turning back towards the center of the room. I watched him as he raked his fingers through his hair nervously, something he always did when he didn’t know what to do or say, and when he needed a physical distraction.
“I mean, I never thought I was normal,” he said, smiling in an apprehensive, defensive way. “But this…” He turned to me. “We need to find out more, Lil. We have to know if this is true.”
I nodded in agreement, walking over to him. “Yes, I know. We can’t ignore this. We should start by gathering more information about Constantine’s past, and about your own family history.”
“The easiest thing would be to speak to my parents, but that is impossible,” he said with a heavy sigh.
Of course, it was. His parents, both his vampire as well as human parents were no longer among the living. He fell into a contemplative silence, lost in his thoughts.
“Is there anything you have of your parents?” I asked him.
“Like what?” he wondered. “Like old photos? I doubt I have a photo of Constantine and me as a baby.” He said it gruffly, but I knew that he didn’t mean anything by it. He was just overwhelmed with this knowledge and he had no idea how to process it yet. I could understand it perfectly and didn’t hold this comment against him.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Not old photos, but something… maybe your human parents found you with something? When you were a baby?”
He thought about it for a moment, then he replied. “Well, my mother had a box of… trinkets, I guess is what they are. Nothing of value. Just… emotional value.”
“Do you still have it?” My hopes flared up that we could find something out about his past, or at least a hint that could direct us in the right path.
“Of course,” he nodded. “It’s one of the rare things I still have of them. Come.”
He left my father’s study and made his way down the castle hallway towards his own study. The atmosphere around us shifted, as I followed him.
The corridor we walked through was illuminated by the warm glow of the antique chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, their crystal prisms refracting the light into a mesmerizing display of colors across the stone walls. Portraits of past generations of my family lined the hallway, each one a stern-faced reminder of my lineage, but at the same time, it felt as if even those stern faces were urging us on in this mysterious endeavor.
A thick, richly patterned carpet ran the length of the corridor, muffling the sound of our footsteps and adding a touch of comfort to the otherwise imposing space which, just like this newfound secret, threatened to swallow us whole. The walls here were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of battles, stories of our past that we were told never to forget.
Adrian disappeared through a nearby door, and I followed him inside. His study was adorned with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, with the books all meticulously organized, a testament to my husband’s penchant for order amidst this vast sea of knowledge.
A grand mahogany desk stood at the center of the room, bathed in the soft, golden glow of a classic bankers lamp. The desk was adorned with neat stacks of papers, a leather-bound journal, and a row of ornate pens. It was a place where ideas took form, and where the mysteries of the world were contemplated.
The walls of the study were adorned with various maps, scientific diagrams, and framed vintage illustrations. A large world globe stood in one corner, its surface worn from years of exploration with a finger tracing paths across distant lands. The room seemed to bridge the worlds of art and science, history and imagination.
A plush, worn armchair and a matching settee were positioned near the windows, where the soft afternoon light filtered through heavy velvet curtains. The view from the window overlooked the castle grounds, offering a picturesque vista of manicured gardens and the distant rolling hills.
With a sense of anticipation and apprehension, Adrian retrieved his mothers box from a well-kept cabinet in the corner of his study. The box itself was an unadorned, weathered wooden container that had witnessed the passage of time. As he carefully placed it on the mahogany desk, the room seemed to hold its breath in silent curiosity. Our eyes locked, as if he was waiting for my confirmation to do it. I smiled at him tenderly.
He opened the box, the hinges creaking softly as if the box itself had been waiting for this very moment. Inside, it was just like he said. Trinkets and keepsakes were neatly arranged. Faded photographs, an old pocket watch, crumpled letters, a few more things I couldn’t make out immediately.
Adrian picked up a small porcelain doll, its delicate features and paint worn by time. He turned it over, examining it closely as if searching for hidden clues. I reached for the tarnished locket, feeling the weight of the past in my hands as I opened it, revealing the miniature photograph of Adrian’s mother.
“She was so beautiful,” I whispered, closing the locket tenderly.
“She was,” he replied pensively. “I think you two would have gotten along very well.”
“You think so?” I smiled at his comment.
He smiled back. “I’m sure of it.”
It warmed my heart to hear him say that. I watched him as he continued to sort through the contents of the box, suddenly remembering everything that we had gone through together. I lost my sister first, and now my father. But through both of those tragedies, he had been my rock, my support, my everything. Now, it seemed that all we had was each other and our daughter. Our family. This secret threatened to pull us apart, and we had to discover what the truth really was.
The room remained in near silence, save for the occasional rustle of paper and the soft murmurs of our voices as we pondered the implications of the objects before us. The trinkets, once dismissed as mere nostalgia, now held the potential to reveal hidden connections, stories, and secrets. We had embarked on a journey into the past, guided by these seemingly ordinary keepsakes, in search of the truth that had been concealed for so long.
“I don’t think there is anything here,” he finally said.
I could hear the despair in his voice. I knew that he was desperate to prove, mostly to himself, that none of this was true, that my father had made a mistake.
“Maybe your human parents didn’t know anything about this,” I reminded him. “They only found you, right?”
He nodded. “Yes, only me.”
“See?” I told him. “We probably should have assumed that they didn’t know. How could they?”
“But how does your father know?” he asked me, sounding incredulous. “But worse yet, if he knew, why didn’t he tell me?”
I walked over to him and placed my hand gently on his shoulder. I didn’t know what to tell him. I felt bad because of this, because as his wife, I was expected to make things like this easier, to make some sense of them. But I couldn’t help him right now. All I could do was be there for him and follow him every step of the way, as we try to find out more about this mysterious scroll.
“I’m sure Father had his reason for doing this,” I assured him. “Whatever this is. You know that my father appreciated you and valued your opinion greatly. Whatever he did, he did out of love and respect, not out of malice.” This much I was sure of, and I knew he was, too. Only, it was difficult to be sure of anything, when such possibilities were staring you right in the face.
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into an embrace. I closed my eyes, allowing his scent to wash over me, as I buried my nose into his neck.
“I don’t know what I would do without you,” I heard him whisper.
“I know I wouldn’t be alive without you,” I whispered back, and we both knew that to be true.
We had been there for each other through so much. I was sure that we would be able to weather any storm, even this one. As we held each other close, our arms wrapped securely around one another, it was as if our souls found solace in the simple act of being together. His warmth and presence provided a soothing balm to my anxieties, and I hoped that my embrace could offer the same to him.
Our breaths synchronized, the rise and fall of our chests in harmony, and the world outside the study seemed to fade into the background. The rustling of papers and the ticking of the old clock on the wall were mere whispers in the background as we clung to each other. In that moment, words became unnecessary. There was an unspoken understanding between us, a silent promise that we would face whatever challenges lay ahead together. The reassurance of his touch and the gentle rhythm of our hearts beating as one was a reminder that we were a team, ready to confront the unknown as a united front. Because, all we had was each other.
My heart suddenly started to beat faster and faster as he held me close. It had all been too much. I needed him, and he sensed it. In the midst of our gentle embrace, his lips met mine. It was a gentle, tender kiss, a silent affirmation of our love and connection, a reassurance that it was us against the world.
Little by little, our tongues started to intertwine, awakening our desire. The kiss was no longer just a silent declaration of love and trust, but it became more. It became a fire of need, of yearning, in this moment when everything seemed wrapped in a shroud of uncertainty. The room, with its weighty history and hidden mysteries, faded away, leaving only the electric charge of our shared desire and the palpable energy that surged between us.
The taste of his lips, the warmth of his embrace, and the rush of emotions intertwined in a dance that intensified with each passing moment. My fingers found their way to the back of his neck, and his hands pulled me closer, as if our hearts sought to meld into one. Our breaths grew heavier, matching the rhythm of our fervent kiss, and the room seemed to pulse with the shared intensity of our passion. The world outside disappeared entirely, leaving only the fire that burned between us.