Ancient History

Alex:
I've spent the last thirty-six hours staring at my cell phone like an idiot. My companion at "dinner" last night got very angry, Cleo is one of those women who demand the total and absolute attention of the man who is close to her and my constant checking the arrival of messages offended her.
Luckily, the Egyptian understood my situation and I managed to win her support. Of the five members of my coven, with whom I have interviewed these two days, she is the only one who has expressed herself in favor of what I want to achieve. Before, a few centuries ago, we would have ended the night in a session of rough, perverted and unrestricted sex. Cleo was more than willing, I wasn't in the mood.
Worry has made me return six hours earlier than expected. Truth is, I feel prey of a huge and irrational fear. I know my little witch will be well cared for by Patrick, he will protect her with his life from any external threat; what I’m afraid of is her own fragile mental stability.
If too much information is given to her at once, she could resist the changes and suffer a nervous breakdown. I grunt and accelerate the car. I landed ten minutes ago and I'm rushing on the road like a bat out a hell. I finally arrive at the Villa after driving like a maniac. Patrick opens the gate and I park in the main entrance.
—Any news? - I ask.
Patrick materializes next to me and I hand him the black briefcase. The rest of the luggage, my clothes and other things will be removed by Hermes.
—Everything has been quiet, sir. - Patrick growls.
—Has the little witch behaved? - I ask.
—Yes. My Lord.
—And the food issue? - I press.
—This morning she raided the fridge and forced Yulia to prepare a strange meal for her. If Yulia had been an Italian chef, she would have died of horror, surely.
I smile relieved. She's been gorging on that weird cold salad of hers, I guess. It's a good sign.
—Where is she now?- I ask, opening the front door and kicking off my shoes on the carpet.
—She's entertained herself in the library for three hours, sir.
I hear a hint of irony in Patrick's voice. I turn to look at him. I use our mental link.
Is there something you want to tell me, old friend? Do you disapprove of my intentions with the witch or are you just jealous?
Jealous? My Lord, this is the most unappealing and peculiar mistress you've had in centuries! Why should I be jealous?
Well, because all my other lovers I have shared with you at some point but I refuse to do the same with her. At least for now.
I understand your goals My Lord and I understand that woman is dangerous and unstable. I would never dare to question your orders and you know it. I am your most faithful slave.
Patrick's sincere words restore much of the peace of mind that I had lost. I caress his face with both hands and kiss him on the lips.

000
The witch is sprawled out on a couch, wearing another hideously shredded here and there t-shirt outfit and an oversize pant. I shake my head. I will never understand why she likes to hide that little, oh so sexy, slutty body, of hers. It is true she would be the envy of many if she lost a few kilos, but I am not interested in such nonsense.
My witch is designed for pleasure. Her hips and breasts, her mouth even her back... Zeus! All of her is an invitation to sin. She is lying on her abdomen, moving her feet to the rhythm of the music she playing on her cell phone.
She has it in her hands and a pair of headphones plugged into her dainty ears.
—Our love is six feet under, I can't help but wonder if our grave was watered by the rain...
She sings happily and I frown. Those lyrics dont't exactly expresses a lot of happiness. I shake my head, there I was, driving to the brink of a nervous breakdown, running home like a lunatic and here she is , lying there like nothing's happened and fresher than a lettuce.
— Would roses bloom, uuuhhh could roses bloom uuuhhh, again... ²
She reaches out and takes a chocolate bonbon from a bowl full of them. Biting on it she growls. She seems happy, but somehow I know something else is going on here.
—Yolie. - I call her and she jumps to her feet, taking off her headphones and looking at me with a terrified face.
—What the hell are you doing here?! - She asks, flustered. - That idiot Patrick said you wouldn't be back until dawn.

Ah, I see. I have interrupted her in a moment of introspection. Perhaps there was something in her thoughts she didn't want me to know, which is strange, because I have not been able to perceive even the slightest murmur coming from her mind. I watch her absently and then I notice the change. A disgusting smell assaults my nostrils.
—What the fuck have you done to your hair?!

Yolie:

I reply with a grimace.
— I had it cut and a treatment done to it to keep it straight. Patrick said that under no circumstances could I leave the Villa but Yulia convinced her niece and she came and gave me the make over here, in my room.
I have also plucked my eyebrows and had a manicure and pedicure. But that is no business of him.
Alex looks at me with a strange expression on his face, it's, it's like he's sorry. He approaches me and I hold my position firmly. He strokes my hair and sobs.
I look into his eyes and I can see tears have started to gather in them. I take a step back. Now what the hell is wrong with him? My hair was a mess, it was too long, too battered. Anyway, before it almost reached my waist now I have it by the height of the shoulders.
—It was so beautiful. - He sobs, looking at my shiny new hair with contempt. - Why have you done such a monstruous thing?
I'm speechless. He laments as if I’d murdered his best friend. Deep down I thought that maybe he would like these little changes in my appearance but I can see that, once again I was totally wrong. I'm an idiot. My throat closes, my eyes fill with tears, but I don't know how I hear myself answer him.
—The hair was mine and I decided to do with it what I pleased. If you don't like how it turned out, don't look at me. You are not forced to!

Alex:
I take a step back in surprise. That was NOT my little witch. I have reproached her for the monstrosity she committed against her hair because it is unforgivable. Why to subdue something that is wild by nature and force it to meet the absurd standards of others?
Her hair was perfect. It was rebellious and unique. That thing on her head is more acceptable and perhaps considered more fashionable, but it lacks life, it lacks magic.
Before she answered, I was going to explain my reasons for scolding her, but her words stopped me in my tracks. A shadow swirls behind her eyes. She was about to cry but those tears have disappeared. The Sorceress is getting closer. I can feel her presence in the shadow within Yolie's gaze.

Yolie:
I shake my head a few times trying to clear my thoughts.
Am I crazy or what? Why did I gave that answer to a vampire?! I really want to be strangled, apparently.
Alex looks me in the eye with a suspicious expression. He has narrowed his eyes and his face is hyper serious. Everything that's happening is very strange. He takes another step back.
—Forgive me. I shouldn't have expressed myself the way I did. Try to understand that where I come from ... when I come from, beauty standards were different and I liked your hair much more the way it was.
That's obvious.
—I'll kill Patrick. -He says, smiling.- I asked him if there was any news and he said no. He also knows perfectly well that no stranger should enter the Villa, it's too dangerous
I retrieve my cell phone from the couch and make a move to leave the library.
—Where are you going? - He asks. - You have nothing to say to me?
—Oh yeah. Right. - I turn around and look at his heterochromic eyes.
— Your father was Philip II of Macedonia. - It’s not a question but a statement.
—Yes. - He responds serious and solemn.
—How old are you exactly? - I let go with a thread of voice.
—Thirty-two years of age. But I stopped aging more than two millennia ago.
—How can a person become ... become ... a vampire?
—It's not very hard. You would only have to drink the blood of one of us and die with it still in your stomach.
My eyes widen.
Did he say us? How many vampires are on the loose around the world?
—Oh, we are a few thousands. Imagine, I converted many out of sheer boredom, others because I admired some of their qualities, and a few because they had a mission worth prolonging their lives for.
I bite my lip.
This connection between us is a nuisance! I really didn't want an answer to that, it was more of a rhetorical question.
—Sorry. I will not answer again unless you ask the question.
—The night you and Patrick saved me from dying. How exactly did you do it?
—I gave you my blood to drink.
—What?!- I yell. My legs threatens to give under me. I desperately search for the couch and drop onto it.
—Does ... Does that mean I'm going to become... a vamp... a vampire? - I stammer. Covering my face with my hands.
—No. That night you were on the brink of death and I couldn't just let you die without trying to save you. I took a risk and opened my wrist with a glass that must have fallen from the windshield of the car that hit you.
Blood, I remember the unmistakable taste of blood in my mouth. At that time I thought it was my own that had risen to my throat and was choking me.
—You passed out from the blood loss, but luckily your heart never stopped. My blood did its job and began to heal your internal wounds, slowly at first and then faster.
In half an hour you had no visible external injuries. Patrick convinced that Canadian couple that they had witnessed the accident and of the urgent need to take you to the hospital.
—Why didn't you guys do it?
He raises an eyebrow ironically.
—You know what I am, right? Do you think I could hold myself in a hospital full of wounded humans? That night there was a massive accident and there were many victims.
I didn't know that.
—On that occasion ... did you ... I mean, that night ... did you drink my blood?
—No. You were too fragile. If I had done that I would have finished killing you.
—And the one that ran across the floor? Couldn't you have drank from that one?
—Absolutely not. Blood must be as clean as possible and must be fresh. If an ice cream falls on the ground, do you pick it up and continue drinking it?
—I understand.
Well yes, it has its logic. I wouldn't drink ice cream that had fallen to the floor.
—One last question Alex. You say you need my blood. Could you tell me how can I be useful? The faster you achieve your propose, the faster I will be able to return to my country.

2 Six feet under, Song by Billie Eilish