Chapter 3: Forget-Me-Not, Part 2

Aubrey grimaced. "I don't care what my father thinks he's doing, or if this Pet Gilles picked out is the most beautiful man in the world. I do not want a Pet." His mouth tightened again. As Stregoni had said, most would consider a Pet a fine gift indeed, but Aubrey could not stomach the idea of owning one. People, even if they were not people in the eyes of most because they had to drink human blood to live, were not meant to be owned.

Knowing his father, no expense had been spared in the acquisition, and while there was much fault to find with Gilles, his sense of taste was not one of them. No doubt the Pet was quite up to Aubrey's tastes, though how his father and Gilles knew his tastes in such matters, he shuddered to think about.

Pets hailed from a small territory far to the south, all that remained of the vast territories they'd once owned. A strange race of human-like creatures that did not need food as did ordinary beasts and people, but blood. Human blood was best of all, though until they were sold they survived on animal blood.

This was because once a Pet fed on the blood of his owner, he ceased being able to drink any other form of blood. His body would no longer digest it properly. Once this new Pet drank Aubrey's blood, he would be required to feed on Aubrey or die of starvation.

Aubrey hated it. But any noble worth anything had a Pet. Even his mother had possessed a Pet. Aubrey didn't remember Mina well, but he felt the same fondness for her he had for his mother.

His father had acquired one a few years after his wife had died, a pale-skinned beauty named Elisabeth, soft, quiet, and patient, a rarity in their house of hard lines, sharp edges, and countless shouting matches. Gilles had a Pet as well, a severe, handsome man named François. Black hair, with strange eyes the same shade of purple as monkshood. Not an eye color found on any human, which was why it stuck in Aubrey's memory.

"I suppose it's far too late to turn around and say I'm not returning after all," he said with a sigh.

"Too late," Stregoni agreed cheerfully. "I've sorely missed you, and I am not letting you out of my sight again for a very long time. That aside," he continued more seriously, "your sister could use some more company. She swears she gets along quite well with Gilles and Lord Sangre, but I know having you home will do more good than all my tonics combined."

Aubrey nodded, pushing his anger aside to deal with later. He was glad to be home, he was - he just wished there were not already matters cropping up to sour it. "I still do not want a Pet."

"Well, make the best of it," Stregoni said peaceably. "Unless you can somehow manage to talk him out of it, your father has settled the matter. Perhaps your Pet will become a new friend. That does happen - look at how close and happy Sangre and Elisabeth are. She's essentially the lady of the house."

"I suppose," Aubrey said, shrugging the words off. "Tell me about yourself, Stregoni. How is the business? Your mother? Discover anything new? Acquire some new patients?" He winked. "A lover?"

Stregoni looked away, shrugging in his turn. "No lover," he said tersely. "A few new patients, though the kind that want an easy remedy to everything. That Marquis that lives a day or so from here has requested my services for his child a few times now, though I'm afraid he has a breathing problem that is not curable. Still, I try." He smiled as he turned back. "Thanks to your sister, I have access to the best herbs and flowers in the country."

Aubrey returned the smile. "That is Milla. I'm sure it makes her happy to help where she can." He sighed softly. "So nothing has been discovered as to her illness?"

"No, Brey, and I'm sorry for it. She simply seems to have been born frail. I think it is her heart, but cannot say for certain." Stregoni spread his hands in frustration. "I will never stop trying, but..."

"I know, Stregoni," Aubrey said, taking one leather-clad hand in his own. "It wasn't an accusation."

Stregoni squeezed his hand, then let it go. "Come on, we're nearly there, and you can see for yourself that she is as fit as she can possibly be - and probably in her prettiest dress because her big brother is coming home."

Aubrey smiled and pulled up the hood of his cloak once more before chasing after Stregoni, who had bolted ahead, laughing as their horses raced down the path.

They stopped before a house that was probably the oldest in the region. It had been built by Aubrey's ancestor, the first Lord Sangre.

Sangre Manor was beautiful but somber, a house built of dark stone, settled deep into the thick forest that consumed much of the region. The stone was of deepest gray, holding a faint gleam when the sun struck it properly, looking like something out of a penny-dreadful when the moon was bright. Deep blue shutters and a like door, with dark marble steps leading up to it.

Far to the right, near the small pond filled with white and orange fish, was the stone bench half-buried by a weeping willow where he had so often sat as a child.

Further beyond that was the footpath into the forest where Aubrey had often 'run away' before dark and fear forced him back home, to try again another day.

On the other side of the house extended part of the greenhouse, an undertaking which was nearly as large as the house itself, boasting a garden that was vibrant no matter the time of year, always warm and friendly, and the only one of its kind in the kingdom. People from all over wrote or visited to obtain cuttings or the dried bundles and other things that Carmilla and Stregoni made.

Aubrey only cared that it made his sister happy, that she loved it as much as their mother once apparently had.

As they drew up to the house, the front door flew open and a whole gaggle of people came spilling out - servants to the last, and with a few sharp words from the head butler, they all lined up neatly.

Dismounting, Aubrey moved to address them, but before he could say a word, more figures stepped out of the house, and the words caught in his throat.