Vampires don't cry.
Or so did Tori tell herself, in any case, that day in mid summer, as she stood in the echoing entry hall of what used to be her brother's house, gazing at the bouquet of dead flowers he left for her.
The pale, shriveled petals lay scattered across the dusty marble tabletop, their curled edges the color of tea. Clearly Viktor hadn't been around for a while.
Tori reached for a papery grey petal, turning it slowly in her long, pale fingers. Her brother had never known a moment's happiness as a vampire, she reflected. He had, after all, been turned against his will two centuries ago, by a vindictive lover.
However, it never ceased to amaze her that Viktor hadn't appreciated the extent of his gifts as she had in her own. Vampires could travel through time and space at will, manipulate objects and human beings by mental tricks, disguise their presence from lower ranked creatures and most equals, and think with the entire brain, rather than a portion of it, as mortals did.
Oh, yes, Vampires were far superior to those pitiful creatures, with their fragile organs and brittle bones. Immortals were able to see and hear as well or better than the average alley cat, and except under normal circumstances, they need not fear the claws of death that awaited all mortals.
Damn Viktor and his nobility, she thought.
Tori then gathered the dead petals in both hands and pressed them to her face.
"Brother." She whispered brokenly as she caught their faint scent.
She was alone in the vastness of creation now, Tori told herself as she parted her hands, allowing the dead petals rain gracefully down upon the tabletop. She had no friends, just enemies and a few acquaintances.
Vampires were not particularly social creatures in nature, since they feared certain Angels and Warlocks, as well as audacious humans who were in truth ruthless hunters, were out to destroy them.
Moreover, nightcrawlers mistrusted each other, for they tend to be greedy and unprincipled, only looking out for their own best interests.
Tori sighed, and wandered into Viktor's study. Viktor had always been particularly attracted to mortals and so pretended to live like them. It still mystified her however, that he admired them, these awkward beings who had no idea of the marvellous powers that loomed in the secret depths of their own world, with their measly life span of about seventy years or so...
Tori took out a volume of Viktor's many journals down from the shelf and almost collapsed as she saw a sketch of herself on the first page. She recalled their human days, in seventeenth century England, when she and her elder brother had been born to a beautiful tavern maid, with an English merchant for a sire.
Arthur Blackwood was indeed a good sire, taking good care of his by-blows, considering he had another family. Though, Tori would forever hold a grudge against him. She would always depise him for separating them when Viktor was seven and she had only been five years of age.
From an upstairs room in a well furnished tavern, Tori had gone to a nunnery, where she'd been taught to sew, weave and embroider, as well as learn the necessary skills required of a lady after being separated from her mother and brother.
Viktor had been sent to an expensive school for boys, far away in England. Then, when he had reached young manhood, he met Cressida Llewellyn, his vindictive lover.
Who Viktor had mistaken for a mortal woman at first.
For years, the two children had learnt to communicate via images held up in their minds. And, It was this makeshift method of communication, that served as Tori's consolation during dark, lonely hours.
Cressida Llewellyn, a powerful female blood-drinker; perhaps the most powerful, had initially tricked Viktor to believing she was a mere mortal. But then, murdered him when he learnt of her true nature, turning him into a nightwalker too against his will.
After tireless investigations, Tori had discovered the truth through the offices of yet another immortal named Alexander.
Tori had been shattered for weeks after learning the about her brother's predicaments. It was during this time Tori had decided to become a vampire too.
As heartbreaking as it was, she knew that her lovely brother would get to roam the entire world alone, for all eternity. While she, would get to grow old and die.
Silas had graciously explained the benefits of becoming a nightcrawler, as well as it's drawbacks.
On one hand, an immortal could do virtually anything he or she whished, on the strength of a single thought. But on the other, Silas had pointed out that they were no guarantees if the fundamentals of religions were true, but surely there would be no help for them if they were judged before the courts of heaven.
As one who was raised in a convent, Tori had heard plenty of the Great Pit while growing up, and was taught to dread it with her whole soul.
Being particularly irresponsible and adventurous, possible damnation and the consumption of blood seemed like a small price to pay for the privelleges Nightcrawlers knew.
Moreover, she couldn't bear to leave Viktor roaming the earth alone while she rested in the comforts of a grave.
Knowing Viktor's moral standing, and knowing that he would never consent to it, she decided to ask Alexander to turn her. At first, Alexander had refused owning to the fact that he was attracted to her. When Tori had discovered this, she had used it to the her outmost advantage.
Eventually, Alexander turned her, but it was not at all the unpleasant experience that he had earlier described to her.
Viktor had been enraged when he discovered that Tori had followed in his footsteps. He went after Alexander, bloodlusted, intent on ending his existence, but discovered that it had been his sister's wish to be turned.
Angrily, he had left Alexander to rot under a desert sun and vanished after raining insults on Tori. Alexander had nearly died the most horrible of vampire deaths that day; a hellish fiery ordeal triggered by the light of the desert sun. If it hadn't been for Tori herself and for Thaddeus, one of the vampire elders, Alexander would've perished.
Now, as Tori stood in the room that had once been her brother's favorite retreat, holding the journal, she struggled to accept another turning in the road.
She must leave Viktor be, though the temptation to see her brother's face once more was almost irresistible. She could only hope he had found peace.
Viktor was dead to her, and she to him now, and there was definitely no guarantee of them returning to their old bonds. All that was left to do now was to feed and retire to the attic studio of her home in London.