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It's been two weeks since Master stopped visiting Alvena at night. Aside from the rare occasions that they'd bump into each other in the hallways, they didn't meet— because Master always had something to do or more like, quoting Lucien, "excuses, excuses."

"Evie, can we go to Rosehold today?" the bright-eyed fairy-looking creature asked in the middle of eating breakfast alone. I look at her then at Morwenna from the sidelines. "Please Evie."

"Why Rosehold?" I boldly ask, already too comfortable with my Mistress.

"I'll tell you if you go with me." A cheeky grin slides up on her little face while Morwenna shakes her head.

"My orders are to serve your every need," I relay.

"I need to go Rosehold."

"Then we head out after breakfast," I say, to Alvena's delight, Morwenna's disappointment, and my utter indifference.

That indifference remained as Alvena fawned over every store situated in the inner village from the second upon arrival, endlessly praising Rosehold's beauty while oblivious to her own allure that's been causing heads to turn for quite some time now.

The human ran around like a child until she finally stopped at an open floral field. From there, she lifted up her dress and hiked up a tiny hill. When she reached the top, she beckoned me forward to admire the boundless bushes of roses before us.

Rosehold was named that way for a reason. It was as if all the world's most beautiful roses were thrown together in one place to create a preserved image most fitting of the symbol of elegant eternity of us vampires. The smell of roses reached every inch of the area brought about by the passing wind and the magnificence of the sight could make any other wonder lose its pride.

Alvena began shuffling with the bag I was holding so I helped her set up the suitcase of paints. I opened the canvas and set it up as she diligently began mixing paint. It was interesting, how fast her hands worked with the brush and how focused her eyes were on the scene before her.

"Alek said the garden in Rosehold will never look the same the next time you visit it."

"Rosehold is known to have an unchanging scenery, even in the winter season it looks like spring. That explains why this isn't a popular attraction. You can see it any day. It will be the same, today and one hundred years from now," I correct her.

"Evie," Alvena hummed her name for me. "Alek told me, when you live as long as he has, nothing really has color anymore. Only the roses of Rosehold prove otherwise." Alvena mixed some reddish pink paint and splattered some on the greens.

"Then why doesn't Master just visit here himself?"

"He also told me he won't ever be visiting Rosehold again." This, she says sadly before continuing to paint, making it clear that I'm free to do whatever.

"We leave before nightfall," I advise.

I plant myself down and lean on the tree providing shade, gently closing my eyes and breathing in the snow-scented air. This is what I smell when I'm next to the human and I like it. The rose fragrance is a bit too "romantic" for my preference.

And so I continue to take deep breaths underneath the tree, until I drift off into a nap—something that has never happened before.

"Let's go back now," Alvena woke me with a light shake several hours later. When I came to, the sun was replaced by the moon, and the blue skies by a darker indigo. My eyebrows furrowed, upset that she didn't wake me earlier.

"We should find a place to stay the night," I say while packing.

"We have to get back by tomorrow so we leave now!" Alvena protested. At my lack of expression, she threw in, "I NEED to get back now." I can't disobey her needs.

With me holding all the supplies and Alvena the finished product, we headed back to the stop point where most of the horsemen and carriages awaited.

I didn't spot the one that we arrived in despite giving specific instructions to wait. My eyes darted around, surveying the surroundings, the change in atmosphere, the new pop-up stands that weren't there in the morning, and the new crowd—the night crowd.

While Rosehold Garden is known to have an eternal preserved scenery, the inner village is notorious for their complete turnaround at night. In the daylight, pleasant little shops decorate the streets, but the minute the sun retires, so do the "day" beings. No dallying is tolerated because at night, there's the nightshift—catered to mainly vampires, even the high nobles, who gather here for one purpose—partying. But not the types of party held at mansions. This is a completely different type of party atmosphere.

Here, there's no need for formality—which means, no need for order.

I look at Alvena, who for the first time since she stepped foot in Rosehold territory, realized how appealing she looks among her male onlookers.

Taking her small hand, I bring her under my cape, shielding her from the cold and subtly hiding her from those unwanted stares. I walk casually towards a carriage, but keep my ears pricked up.

But I didn't need to hear to know. Staring men. At night. Foreign territory. Big trouble.

"Where you heading off to sweetie?" a male voice called out from the crowd. He was sitting at one of the fold up tables with a circle of friends—vampire friends.

I ignored.

"Take me to Ashenvale to the Ayers residence," I tell the only man still sitting at his carriage, aware of the ears listening.

The coachman was a human man, perhaps the least harmless among the nocturnal beings surrounding him. His eyes shot with worry from side to side, unsure to take the request or not before seeing the tiny silver-haired girl hidden under my wing.

At the sight of Alvena, his heart melted and beckoned us in to the carriage. With a swift motion, he lifted the reigns and we were off.

But not for long when the wheel of the carriage—the wheel that I confirmed was sturdy— gave out and the carriage tilted in a strange manner. I quickly dashed out with Alvena and got to the man before the carriage detached from the horses and flipped.

Surrounding us, were a league of low class blood-thirsty suckers. As if it was a joke, someone threw a cigar at the carriage, lighting it in flames like a bonfire.

I hiss aggressively, fangs out and nails drawn, standing protectively in front of Alvena and the coachman beside her.

One stupid (drunk—again) vampire pounced and I dug my nails underneath his skin and grabbed out a bone with a few vessels attached, causing him to howl in pain. When another jumped, I did the same, except to his arm and threw the two extracted limps into the flames. Turning around, I face yet another few before the smarter ones began to approach with caution.

Unlike the trembling human man, Alvena quickly put the large board of a canvas down and shuffled in her suitcase for her brushes. She dug them out as brushes, but transferred to my hand as stakes that I threw like knives at a few vampires. They were all clear headshots; though not enough to kill them, would take them a few days to recover given they were only of the middle class.

I learned enough from the Dietrich party that real battle was much different. The first batch was child's play compared to the ones making their way closer now. They weren't blood-thirsty, they were just women-hungry.

Quite unexpectedly, the first to charge was the leader of the little gang and I readied myself to take a blow which landed mercilessly across my jaw, sounding in a crack in the process, but I didn't fall without giving him a nice kick at the side.

Wrapping my ankles around his leg from my position on the floor, I yanked him off his feet and to the floor before jumping at him like an uncivilized vampire.

But what irritated me the most were the laughs and whistles, the entertained faces of the bystanders, in the background. It annoyed me to the point I almost ripped out the vampire's clavicle with my fangs. However, I had already lost track of my priorities. The coachman was lying unconscious on the floor while Alvena was being dragged away by these other vampires.

"Evie!!!!" she screamed and I turned, only to be met with a crisp sound of fangs meeting tender flesh followed by an unpleasantly pleasant scent of sweet blood entering the air.

They are so dead.

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