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AURELIA
It had been seven years from the last time that she called Harper Rock home. The thought hadn't been lost on her as she parked her Jeep on the driveway behind her dad's ugly blue Mercedes; before she had left, there had been an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach for the longest time. Leaving had helped subside the feeling, but it hadn't stopped those who sought her out. It had been an unnerving occasion when she had awoken in the middle of the night with a cold sensation rolling down her spine, to find herself being stared at by a woman or a man with a broken expression.

There were others with a torn expression, those who had died violently and abruptly, and in ways that she had hoped were not possible. Sometimes they helped her, and other times they wanted to hurt. Most of them wanted unfinished business to be solved, and as she got older, Aurelia had gotten better at it - although, she would argue that it helped strongly that she didn't have to deal with them often. There were the occasional difficult cases, where some of the spirits were almost too human and the further she found herself away from Harper Rock, there were less of them.

The last one had been there two years previously, that is, until earlier that day. And now, with her forearms resting against the steering wheel, the woman stared out the windshield as she thought about it all. Her icy blue eyes looked at the manor, considering the odd old fashioned woman who had appeared after her father had stepped out to find her mother. "The long dead Alaric von der Marck walks among the living." The spirit had lead her down the hallways, then, her soft voice repeating the words over and over again before she found herself staring at a portrait of a handsome blond man. Her ancestor. "He dwells in the darkness."

It took her a few moments to gather her keys, to put her bag underneath her front seat and then she began to walk her way to the front. "Any time now, spirits." She muttered quietly to herself as she could hear quiet whispers the closer the got to the grounds. As a kid, it had never made sense to why she disliked the compound - her parents had written it off as imaginary friends, but as an adult, Aurelia knew that she hadn't had imaginary friends: she was a medium. And there were a lot of unrested spirits there. But where, she wondered, was this Alaric? And how, if he had been dead for so long, how did he walk among the living?


ALARIC VON DER MARCK
It was like a whisper on the wind whenever someone new entered Alaric’s bubble of awareness. It was a bubble that extended from his subconscious and stretched to the edges of the Estate -- or at least the parts of the Estate that were the most commonly inhabited. Although the elder tried not to pry or push past the boundaries of propriety when touching the minds of others, he kept the mental lines open enough to know who was there, and to be aware of their general state of wellbeing. If they were further afield he had to try harder to contact them -- which he did, on occasion, if he hadn’t heard from them in a while.

But, they had survived this long without him, and his return hadn’t put them in any sudden danger. Rather than play some kind of possessive mother hen, Alaric loosened his hold on his concern for his living descendants and allowed them the privacy they were owed.

The night started as it usually did -- Alaric woke, and immediately stoked the fire in the grate near his bed so that it leapt to roaring. He could not abide the dark. He then dressed -- not planning on going anywhere, he dressed himself in the casual attire he had become so accustomed to, and which he now realised he preferred. He had yet to fully realise that his version of ‘casual’ did not align with common perception. But he wasn’t wearing a tie. Or a vest. That, to Alaric, was casual.

The first thing he did, most nights, was take a walk around the Estate; like a watchdog, of sorts, but more for the fresh air that he had been deprived of for so long. He always slipped out the back door, would circled around the front and come back down the driveway toward the front. There was a side door through which he liked to enter. It was a route he’d taken long ago -- one that mostly kept him away from the scurrying of busy feet, away from the eyes of the living. There weren’t many people living here these days, so it was easier to do.

Except when he came down the driveway tonight, it was to be met with a stranger at the front door. He cleared his throat to alert the stranger to his presence, his hands pushed non-threateningly into his pockets.

“Can I help you?” he asked, speaking in heavily accented English assuming that the stranger would not understand his native German.


AURELIA
When she was a child, her grandmother had often enjoyed taking her around the estate. Showing her things, talking about their family and the history of the von der Marck line. She had never minded the stories, either. Now as the woman made her way further up the walk, Aurelia couldn't help but think back on the moments. Sometimes, when her grandfather walked with them, the man would coax his grandchild to wander off with him so he could tell his own tales. They were bittersweet moments that she remembered long after her grandfather had passed. His spirit hadn't lingered, either, despite the young woman having searched for days after his death.

It was, however, one of these tales that had her returning after the sundown. The myth that her great ancestor Alaric being a vampire had always been preposterous - and that was saying a lot from the fact she could see spirits all her life. She had always laughed at her grandfather’s excitement when the topic of the supernatural and their family ties had been mentioned. He had always told her not to view her ability as a curse, but rather a gift… and as Aurelia remembered his words, she tried to remember what she had heard about one Alaric von der Marck. There wasn't much that clung to her subconscious. Three sons, one of which having been her direct relation to the man. Her lips pressed into a brief line. Would he be able to aid her, even if the rumors were true?

As she folded her arms in front of her chest and gave them a rub in attempt to warm herself in the evening air, she silently cursed that she’d forgotten her jacket that went along with her clothes at her parents home. It was with a mental sigh that Aurelia scolded herself, knowing that she had been going to an area with spirits that she stopped at the sound of a throat being cleared.

Her ice blue eyes looked in the direction and she blinked. It was almost too easy for the woman to believe, finding who she needed now. She focused, and as she walked to be a few paces away from the man, she was almost certain that he wasn’t a spirit. But… “Are you Alaric?” She asked, “Alaric von der Marck?” Her blue eyes moved over his form, almost in disbelief. It had to be him, unless he had a clone. And almost as if it were needing to be confirmed, she didn’t miss the sight of the spirit from earlier. Simply watching. Waiting. The woman’s milky eyes were locked on the figure.

Turning her attention away from the spirit, her gaze locked back on the man in front of him. “My name is Aurelia von der Marck, and I’m looking for him.” No ********, straight to the point. If there was one thing that she had always liked from her career, it was that.


ALARIC VON DER MARCK
When the woman turned around, Alaric was taken aback. The shock was subtle as it briefly washed over his features. It was a face that he remembered, the blonde framing freckles and piercing eyes. It was his own blood that he could see -- right back to the beginning. Johannes had a child, whose grandchild was a girl. A beautiful girl, who took after her mother, whose father was a von der Marck. Her name was Gertrude. He liked Aurelia better.

And then she moved, her face shown in a different light, and he could see the differences; the shape of the face was a little different, perhaps the tone of the skin. There were differences, and it was those differences that Alaric focused on. At least, the qualms he had about lying about his identity were calmed, somewhat. He certainly didn’t have any doubts as to hers. His head cocked to the side, mental fingers reaching out -- it was easier than checking over his shoulders, looking for danger. There was no one there but Aurelia.

“I am Alaric,” he said, taking the few steps up to the front door. When he turned the handle, it opened -- they should have kept it locked. But they didn’t -- not with people coming and going throughout day and night. The door opened to a vast lobby, from which one could see the grand marble staircase.

“You had better come in,” he said, gesturing inside. “I will make you tea. And you will tell me why you are looking for me,” he said, his accent think but his English getting better every night -- better to speak it as much as he could in order to keep it clear and concise in his head. He stood aside, clear eyes curious, a subtle smile on his lips.


AURELIA
How many years had it been since Alaric von der Marck had been alive? It was a question that Aurelia could not find herself able to answer as she stared at the man in front of her. A few centuries, at least. She had seen spirits that were almost human before, but he was something entirely different. There was always a tale, but there wasn’t one now. Almost as if she were pleased with herself, the spirit whom had spoken to her earlier vanished - later, Aurelia would find herself wondering if that had been what she had been waiting on before passing over.

At first, she didn’t know what to think as the man opened the door. She almost expected it to be a prank; spirits were asses at times, too, but when nothing popped out at her, Aurelia lifted her chin lightly before stepping forward. There was no fear, no need to be concerned, right? After all, he did admit his name and as she gave a nod of her head, she tugged at the hem of her shirt.

“That sounds nice, Alaric.” As she stepped up the steps, she cursed herself mentally about her jacket. Although she couldn’t see the presences around, there was that feeling again. The one she’d had for years before she had left Harper Rock. It would fade in time, she knew, but it was always such a pain. And in a place where family had passed, it just simply felt worse.

She gave the man a small smile and stepped inside, looking around the lobby. Her grandmother had always liked the staircase, insisted on taking pictures of her grandchildren there. Then again, she supposed the woman just liked to take pictures of her grandchildren regardless. “It hasn’t changed since I was last here. Hardly anything does, I guess.” The words were said thoughtfully, “I see they still leave the door unlocked. It used to drive me crazy when my grandfather was here.”


ALARIC VON DER MARCK
Alaric stepped through the front door behind Aurelia, closing it behind him. He then took the lead as he meandered through to where the kitchen was located, down a small hallway past the staircase. It was a grand kitchen, once meant only for the staff to use but now renovated and modernised for the use of anyone who found themselves in the house. Although staff were hired to do the cleaning, they only came once a week. There were no cooks. There were gardeners who helped Louvel, though Louvel did most of the work around the Estate -- Alaric had to admit that he preferred it this way. He did not like too many strangers in the house. Even if the tunnels underneath were secure from prying eyes -- they’d got through them once before, to slaughter him in his sleep. Now, he would not make their existence common knowledge.

“It has changed much since I was last here,” he said, a smile lingering on his lips. His mood was light tonight, and he assumed given that Aurelia was here and was looking for him -- knowing that he was alive -- she must know that he hadn’t exactly lived a mortal lifetime.

Once they’d reached the kitchen he gestured to one of the stools at the kitchen bench; he knew how to make tea only because he’d insisted that Leonie show him how, so that he could do so for his human relatives from time to time. Though, he still did bumble his way through the process. “What brings you here, Aurelia…?” he asked. Easier to converse with her, to keep the conversation going to distract her, so that she might not see that Alaric wasn’t as accustomed to the modern appliances as he could have been. He’d have preferred a metal pot boiled over the fire, but then that would truly be showing his age.

AURELIA
She could imagine that it had. What was he, her grandfather to the power of fifteen? It was something like that. The idea of doing the math made her head hurt, it was almost four hundred years, if not more. Aurelia had been good in math, but it wasn't her strong suit or her forte. The woman considered it all. The undead, the spirits. How exactly did these things happen in this town? As they walked, she could feel different presences and chose to step closer to Alaric. “How long had it been?” She asked, not realizing what she had done as she looked around the lobby. Her blue eyes moved back to the man, taking in his smile ano offering one of her own.

She followed him without difficulty. The heels of her boots gave soft clicks with each step forward she took. If she had gone back to the ranch, she would have been barefoot the moment she stepped over the threshold. Even as a kid, she would have done it there, but now? It wasn't thinkable. Aurelia looked towards the stool he gestured at and moved to sit, tucking the toe of her boot behind one of the bottom rails as she did.

“Well, firstly a spirit sought me out and lead me to your portrait in my parent’s home.” The words would have sounded strange, foreign to others. She'd long since abandoned trying to explain her curse to some, but it was always the same when she did, “Spirits come to me for help. I'm a medium. I can see them. This particular one, I suspect, wanted the truth about you to be known by someone.” She frowned. “As she disappeared shortly after I ran into you. But, I do not know why truly. Why do you think she may have led me to you?”


ALARIC VON DER MARCK
The tea, now seeping, was abandoned for a minute or three. The elder considered the other with unbridled curiosity, unable to resist the urge to reach out to her mind, to touch it with his own, to see into her soul -- as much as he was able. There, he caught the memories of her childhood -- some in this very estate. And numerous encounters with spirits. There was truth in her words, as strange as they should have sounded. But she was not the only one of her kind that Alaric had met. In his years before death, there’d always been one around. He’d have to speak with Judah -- or even ask Aurelia herself -- as to whose bloodline she belonged to. But it had passed down from somewhere, in the line. The von der Marck were special, and not only because they had an immortal elder watching over them.

He wondered how many spirits this girl could see on this estate; whether there were old ancestors still around. Whether the one who had betrayed him, lingered. What about the one who’d killed him? Had someone captured him before he’d had time to escape? And what about Gregor…? Was he at peace, or was he still wandering these halls, waiting for Alaric to fulfil an unspoken promise?

Alaric eventually cleared his throat and carried the tray with the steeped tea and the jug of milk, the cup and saucer, over to where Aurelia sat. A single mug and saucer. Alaric, of course, would not partake. He was mesmerised momentarily by the steam rising from the spout of the small pot he’d used. Why would a spirit lead her to him? Could spirits read minds? Could they see his dreams? Could they know the things that he wanted, or were their reasons for hanging around entirely selfish? He shook his head and offered a vague shrug.

“I do not know why she would have led you to me. Except that you are von der Marck,” he said, the family name heavy as it passed his lips, weighted with importance. “And this is where you belong. My portrait, my presence, only a pawn, to bring you to the doorstep,” he said, sliding the tray closer to Aurelia, his eyes still upon her face.


AURELIA
Her relationships with her cousins had always been well enough. She'd always been one who had held familial relationships above and beyond. Her parents and sibling were dear to her heart, too. If they went a day or two without contacting each other, Aurelia's mother would worry heavily. She always wanted the young woman to call or text her, even send an email if she were too busy. It wasn't too bad, really. It just meant that they were close. As she watched Alaric, she could see subtle resemblances to her father, to the photos of her grandfather, of looks that hadn't died out over the generations given. It was a refreshing thing to see, really.

A comforting one.

To her left, there was a glimmer of movement. Aurelia turned her head to check and saw the glimpse of blonde hair. A little girl whom she'd recognized over the years from her own childhood. Looking away, she proceeded to ignore the spirit as she simply waited. As she listened to Alaric speak, Aurelia gave the man a soft smile of thanks. When he was finished speaking, she began to make her tea. One bit of sugar, a small amount of milk. Her grandmother had always teased her when she was younger about adding too much of both so that she couldn't taste the tea leaves.

Now, she did the exact opposite.

"Harper Rock has always been my home." She admitted as she stirred the cup of tea idly, "And my family has been here for ages, through your son, Johannes. I suppose I would have come here regardless of the spirit or not." Aurelia lifted her chin to look at the man. "I am glad that we have an elder around, especially the Patriarch of the line. Even if I don't quite understand how." She heard the soft giggle again and there was a chill down her spine. "You died. A long time ago, but the time when you disappeared, you weren't human."


ALARIC VON DER MARCK
The conversation had veered away from mere small talk. They did not know each other at all but, through her resemblance to Gertrude it was like he’d known her for years -- even though they were two completely different people.

Aurelia mentioned Johannes which brought back many memories, both good and bad. Johannes had been the most prolific of his sons and it was no surprise, then, that there were so many descended from his loins. Alaric could see many faces when he thought of his son -- that of the baby, fresh from the womb, of the grown man, of the elderly man, just before death took him into its gentle arms. He shuddered now, to think that they all might be in that place where Alaric had suffered for centuries. But he had not seen them, had not found them -- unless they were the faceless, voiceless shadows, unrecognisable, eroded over time. Was that what happened to everyone when they died? Or did their spirits often linger, the ones that Aurelia could see?

Was she seeing one now, the way she turned her head to look at something that was not there? Alaric turned, too, but could only see an empty doorway.

Although Aurelia had asked no questions, Alaric nodded. He was silent for ten seconds before he decided that he would explain. Aurelia, then, must not have spoken to Judah, or to Louvel, Leonie … or they had not explained to their cousin what had happened, or how, or who Alaric was, exactly.

“I was not human. I was alive for two centuries before my death. I am alive again. It was a ritual that brought me back. Magic, wrought with family blood,” he said. He glanced down at his finger where the ring with the family crest upon it glinted in the kitchen’s light. The ring had played a part in the ritual; he’d come back from death wearing it, and hadn’t taken it off since.

“It is not fate that had brought me back, but the whim of family. It is my goal to start again what I was forced to stop, though I must adjust, first…” he said. And the family must adjust to him, he knew. He could not come in and start ordering them around, and nor did he wish to. This modern age, however, with their modern, independent mindset -- it was harder than he thought to be who he had once been.


AURELIA
Aurelia’s eyes did not miss the shudder. A frown played across her lips as she said gently, “I haven’t seen him, here, on the grounds.” It was meant to reassure him that his son had not been walking the earth since his death, but she wondered if it was something he had been wondering. The woman moved the cup between her palms, taking in its warmth and mentally visualizing the way that the steam enveloped her, the smell of the tea bag much more relaxing than simply being there.

Though, Alaric was not a presence she felt threatened by. Nor were most of the spirits she could feel in the kitchen, either. “I must admit that I don’t really pay much mind to things that have happened in this place. At least, when it comes to magic.” It was ironic, really, coming from a girl who could see the death. “But I don’t understand how you were not human.” Her blue eyes studied the man carefully, until she said, “The rumors about Harper Rock. Vampires. Is that true?” It was a better way, she thought, than outright gasping and feeling like she was Bella from Twilight. Her gaze followed his to the ring as she considered it all. A magical ritual bringing a man whom had been dead for so long back to life.

All in all, it really didn’t sound all that crazy.

But then again, she’d been known to be the girl who talked to herself for a long while, when in truth Aurelia had spoken to spirits her entire life. There were far and few who knew, but at least she knew Judah hadn’t reacted negatively to it. She made a mental note to get back in touch with her cousin. Was he still traveling, or was he back in the compound? Her parents hadn’t mentioned anything, but her mother had been too ecstatic that she was back home, while her father had been apologizing about the way that the ranch had fallen into disrepair in some places.

She hadn’t gotten the chance to ask about him, nor Louvel. “If you have any questions, I can try to help?” She offered. “I’ve got some adjustment myself to do, but I imagine it was a culture shock to see how things have… gotten.” Aurelia said, hesitantly reaching forward to put her hand over the man’s. “Our family can be complicated, stubborn even. But we have a strong will to live. My grandfather used to tell me we got it from you, is that true?”


ALARIC VON DER MARCK
When her hand closed over his, she would feel how cold his skin was. His eyes were sharp as he watched her, more surprised than anything else. He assumed that she would know. Why? Because so many others did, despite Alaric’s wish that his species be kept secret. He assumed the rumour would have spread in hushed tones throughout the family tree, scattered as it may be. Believed by some and dismissed by many others. But here was an Aurelia von der Marck, and she was asking Alaric if vampires were real.

“Ja,” he said. “It is true,” he added. She’d said she did not understand how he was not human, and though he stumbled over the statement, he wondered if it was an unasked question. Was he a vampire? Was he something supernatural that could live for centuries? A small smile played at the corners of the elder von der Marck’s lips. She had not asked the question outright. He decided he would not give her the answer until she did. Not just because it amused him, but because he was still unsure whether it was something he should so easily give away. He had been betrayed by family before. He would be ignorant to think it could not happen again.

“There is no point in life if there is no will to live,” Alaric answered. Whether or not the bloodline had gained such stubbornness from him, he could not know. It was a grand claim, and though he had centuries upon his shoulders, Alaric was a modest man. “Death is a natural enemy. It is foolish to walk into his waiting arms,” he said. And, now that Alaric knew what death was, had experienced it for himself, he could only utter those words with genuine weight. Again, he smiled.

“Help? No. My feet are firm on the ground. There is no shock, only pleasant surprise,” he said. He was no longer an invalid, no longer a frail old man in need of constant attention. Most things, now, he could figure out on his own, his fear of the world outside of the Estate ebbing with each night he pushed against it.