While I had never been one to worry about reputation, the lack of rumours involving yours truly spreading around Madame Maurice’s Conservatoire, School of the Gifted, disturbed me.

“Still griping?” Romeo looked at me from across our dorm room.

“I am not griping, I am mourning the lack of imagination creatures have.” I grumbled, slouched in my chair.

My other friend agreed. “He’s griping.” Lore could tell because I supposedly got articulate when upset. It scared him, almost as much as the Easter bunny did.

Romeo smiled a wide smile, one that showed his even teeth. He knew what Lore was thinking – hell, we all did. He still hadn’t gotten over the Hallow’s Eve bash. Pink and fluffy wasn’t Lore’s kind of thing, a pity, really. The Easter bunny had taken a liking to him.

“Stop griping.” He joked. “You’re going to scar him.”

“I am only returning the favour.” I still remembered the New Year’s incident involving blood vials and a sheep’s head. It was eye opening, and not in the good way. Séance’s had that kind of effect on a vampire.

Lore defended his outlandish actions. “Hey! I do not scar, I reform. Before you met me...”

“I was fine!” I protested.

“Ppsht. Shoulder length hair was not, and shall never be in. Unless you’re an adorable superhero with pyrotechnic powers and a smile as bright as the sun.” I strongly suspected no one, knew what he was talking about. It was extraordinary, the things that came out of his mouth. That didn’t include the expletives.

“You watch too much television.” I said.

“And you’re too serious. Let’s go moon bathing. I hear the mermaids are out tonight.” Lore slammed a fist down, cementing his decision.

“Why can’t you two be like normal vampires and wolves? Huh? Would it kill you to just go sunbathing? It’d certainly cheer up that pallid complexion. Creatures of the night, isn’t literal, you know.” Romeo liked the light. Lore and I liked the night. It was an age old argument.

“Ruin Mattie’s alabaster skin?” Lore gasped. “Never! He’ll die.”

I rolled my eyes. “Lore, this you know full well the sun myth was exaggerated.”

My best friend smiled cheekily, the light from the fire casting a golden hue on his tanned face. “Oh I know. But it’s fun when you have to wear sunscreen and I don’t.”

I scowled “Don’t remind me.” The down side to being a vampire, minus the whole evil social stigma attached, was the pale skin. It made me susceptible to sunburn. Uncomfortable, yes. Life threatening, maybe. The most UV rays would ever do to was give me skin cancer. As a vampire, there were worse ways to die. Staking wasn’t particularly pleasant. Grandpere could attest to that. If he were still a member of the living dead.

Skeet was in the corner, feverishly slaving over overdue homework, researching historic events and coming up with little. Lore was hunched over his mobile, large fingers agile on the small keypad. “What is it this time?” Romeo looked up from his novel as I sighed heavily.

“Life.” I scowled. At this rate, I’d be developing wrinkles like the Count. It was not a comforting thought in the early hours of the morning.

I lay in bed until late that morning, with a bad feeling. All Hallows Day had never been a particularly joyous occasion. A night filled with frights and lights should have been fun, then again, my coven wasn’t your typical bloodsucking family.

“Matthias.” My sister drawled at the foot of my bed.

I sat up, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. The hideous had that effect on people. “Mathilde.” I greeted her in kind.

“You were supposed to meet me for early morning coffee.” She sniffed the air, like a rotten egg.

I squinted blearily at her. “Who let you in?”

She smiled. Why did people like doing that? “Skeet did.” Urgh. Skeet. The next time I saw him, that boy was going to be siren scales by the time I was done with him. “It’s too damn early. I’m going back to damn bed. Drink coffee by yourself. You blood hungry witch.” She liked seeing me suffer.

“Now now, brother dear. Is that any way to treat your darling sister?” Cue a snort from yours truly. “Especially when you’ve not seen her for the better part of the year. Why you chose this...place,” she spat out, “is beyond my comprehension.” A lot was beyond her comprehension, but I didn’t bother to point that out. Mathilde had ended up here, because she was a girl - girls weren’t welcome in places like Cluj-Napoca Academia. I, was more than welcome, but preferring to stick it to the man, I chose Madam M’s.

“Mathilde.” I leaned forward, kissing the back of her hand in greeting. “Unwanted as always.”

She sniffed, as if hurt. The silly woman. She didn’t have any feelings. “Matthias.”

“What, no snarky reply?” I was disappointed.

“I’ll save it for brunch.” She looked at her watch. “For which we are late. Matthias, do you want Mother to moan about your timekeeping skills? Again?”

“Um.” I pretended to think hard.

“Get dressed.”

I drew the curtains of my bed. “No peeking.”

“As if.” I emerged, sloppily dressed. It would irk my father. Always a fun thing to do. “And how is the old school?” she smiled at me. Being here probably brought back all kinds of old memories of terrorising the student and teachers alike. My family were notorious, the only common thing that ran thought our blood.

“Better now that you’ve left.” I quipped, dodging her swinging snakeskin bag as we left the room.

“Cheeky bugger.” Ah, my middle name.

Arriving at the town house was no cheerful affair. It was a ghastly monstrosity, all white limestone and stifling interior. It had been in the family for generations, if the stuffed animals were anything to go by.

“Matthias.” My Mother coolly greeted me. I think she was pleased to see me.

“Mother.” I kissed both her cheeks, equally cool. My family didn’t like showing emotion. It was either the fear of wrinkles, or that it was undignified.

She gestured both at me and Mathilde to remove our coats. “We have already started.”

Helping Mathilde out of her coat, I handed our clothing to the butler. “Thanks M.” I drawled.

Entering the dining room, I greeted my decaying relatives. “Grandmere, Father.” Loading black pudding, oozing with red goodness onto my plate, I tucked in, hoping a full mouth would help deter the inevitable questions. No such luck.

“Matthias, how is school?” No one waited for my answer. “And what are you doing next year? Joining us I hope.”

Over my dead, decaying body! “I’m still considering my options Grandmere.”

Father sniffed. “Don’t take too long. We don’t have centuries to book rooms, you know.” Ah, hunting season. The joys of dark, damp nights and five star graves. The perks of being fanged.

“I’ll tell you when I’ve decided.” I said, as patiently as I could.

“Speaking of decisions.” My mother swiftly changed the conversation. “Wasn’t your resolution to be more punctual? At least have the courtesy to...”

“Mother.” I cut her off. “I came as soon as I could.” Lie! I had been brought up well.

She sniffed. “Once more and I’ll snap your canines off.” My father grimaced.

I nodded. Her threats were never idle. Next time, if I had to fly to a family function, then dammnit, I would do a green witch and defy gravity.

Brunch was a bore. But then again, what could you expect from the illegitimate child of lunch and breakfast? It was sacrilege to squeeze two meals into one.

“I shall see you at dinner, Matthias. I expect you to be there with bells on.” She looked at me pointedly.

“Yes, Mother.” I mumbled.

The ‘rents and grand’rent left. Coughing in the wake of their dust (M had yet to embrace the modern technology that was a hoover) I glared at Mathilde, arranging her black dress.

“Well, as much as I would LOVE to see your canines snapped, do be on time tonight.” She examined her manicure.

I looked sharply at her. “Oh?”

“We’re expecting company. Very important company. And if you screw it up, I shall snap off your canines myself.” A threat. Interesting.

“And our company is called?” Rich and available?

“Mr. Theodore Snachez.” I had been right.

I wiggled my eyebrows. “A suitor?”

She scoffed. “Hardly. We’re engaged.”

It seemed my eyebrows were doing the expressing today. “Since when?”

“Since he proposed.”

“And you saved this up because...?” Sometimes the deep, dark, disturbing inner workings of her mind needed clarifying.

“Because then your pathetic love life shall come up. And brother, you know I like watching you squirm.”

I glared. “I hate you.”

 “Ditto.” She left me alone in the dining room, sullen and miserable. Just another All Hallows Day.

Trudging to my room, for peace and quiet, I flopped down on the bed. I came here once a year, the tidiness an obvious indication. All Hallows Day was the yearly Villiers reunion. It was a day long affair, after which I retreated back to Madame Maurice’s. This routine had been carried out for seven years. And this would be the last year like it.

Lying down, I sighed. The last year like it. How final. In the framed picture on the wall, we had been young, carefree and pretty damn good looking. Not much had changed, to the disappointment of my 'rents. My coven had high expectations for their only male heir. Insisting on being enrolled in Madame Maurice’s had been the first fall from grace.

“Master Matthias?” M crackled over the intercom. “Your mother requests your company in the office.” 

I cursed. “For goodness sake.” Not this again. Not the damn talk. I could recite the talk word for word. But, then again, I did quite like my canines. Trudging to the heavily decorated room, I was filled with dread. With a good reason.

“Ahh, Matthias.” Mother pointed at the chair beside her. My father was behind his desk. The room was decorated for intimidation. It was suitable, heavy fabrics and dark leather setting the scene for the most perfect Cluedo riddle.

“Father. Mother. Dead animal.” I addressed the deer head looming over the fireplace.

“Matthias.” My parents were grave. “Be serious. We need to discuss things. Like the forthcoming year. Your behaviour, according to sources, is appalling. What is this about...”

“Look, what I do, doesn’t affect...” I had my speech memorised.

“But it does Matthias. This family has a reputation. We expect you to uphold that image.” My mother cut in.

“It’s an image. It’s not...”

“Enough.” It was my father’s turn to cut me off. “We expect you to be responsible and uphold the Villiers name.” And there was that word. I was seventeen, for Myrridn’s sake. I didn’t want to be tied down with responsibility.

The talk went on. And on. Until a resounding crash interrupted us.

Mother looked alarmed. I was surprised her face could show any emotion at all. “What was that?” Father dismissed it. “Perhaps we should investigate?” She suggested. 

“Very well.” He obliged grudgingly, helping her up from her chair. They exited gracefully. Whipped much?

I sighed in relief. Saved by the bell. Slipping out into the corridor decorated with various portraits of my moody ancestors, I headed to my bedroom, locking the door and hoping to stay there until dinner.

“Whot’cha.” Lore was lounging on my bed.

I smiled. “You dog! How did you get in?”

He shrugged. “Though the window, innit?”

I smiled. Lore was a sucker for trespassing, and with his speed, it was almost inhuman for him to be caught.

Feeling more spirited than the past few days, I slung myself in the chair beside the locked door. Light at the end of the tunnel. “What are you doing here?”

Lore shrugged again, relaxed as always. “Thought I’d pop by. Some of us aren’t welcome at home.” His tone was light, as we both let the bitterness of the comment slide.

“Well, I’m pleased to see you. Blackjack?”

He smiled. “Now, when have I ever said no to a bit of underage gambling?”

“We’re not paying for money, we’re playing for clothes.”

He agreed a bit too readily. “Alright.”

I threw him a dirty look. “I was kidding.”

He looking right back at me. “I wasn’t.” We both burst out laughing. Dealing out the cards, we settled on the plush carpet.

“I’m glad the unbroody Mattie’s back.”

I frowned. “I do not brood.”

Lore rolled his eyes.

Our game continued until dinner. We were both still fully clothed, and I was five matches down when M knocked on the door. “Master Matthias? Dinner will be served in five minutes.”

Lore stood up with a groan, and strode to the door, flinging it open. If I didn’t know better, I could have sworn M recoiled. He bowed deep and low. “Master Lore.”

“Maurice. S’up?” He greeted a perplexed M, trying to fist bump him. I sniggered.

“M?” The butler’s sunken eyes swivelled to me. “Set a place for Lore would you? He’ll be joining us.” The butler bowed low. M liked doting on Lore, following us each and every single one of the three times he’d visited the town house. We never had figured out his ulterior motives, but whatever they were, Lore didn’t like being left alone with our decaying servant.

I led the way to the dining room, for the second time that day. If Mathilde was shocked to see Lore, she didn’t show it. Her fiancée was exactly what I’d expected – dark, tall, one of us. What I hadn’t expected however, was his grating voice and annoyingly booming laugh. The old fogies were enamoured, as was my mother. My father was about as elated as you could get – after forty, pushing on fifty years of misery.

“Who’s the dude?” Lore whispered around a mouthful of soup. It was only the first course, and with the guests present, I would not be chastised for my unexpected guest.

“Mathilde’s fiancée.” I whispered back. Lore pulled face. I snorted, electing warning looks. I converted my look of amusement into one of interest. “Say, Teddy, if I may call you that, how many horses do you own again?” Theodore Sanchez was a very wealthy member of the living dead indeed. His family were prominent in Spain, and Teddy did so like recounting the charming stories about his properties and general wealth. It read much like an accountant’s log. He really was a good catch for my sister. Charming, witty, and not at all up himself, Teddy was the epitome of class. Much like a rat.

He answered my question, as I nodded and pretended to listen. Lore, however, took a genuine interest. “What do you do with all them horses?”

Teddy shot him a look. “Why ride them, of course.”

“Ever thought about racing? I know a great...” Lore launched into a detailed description of probably forbidden horse racing along one of his family’s estates.

“Perhaps you would like some more wine Lore?” Mother suggested, indicating that an only too happy M fill up his glass.

“Oh no...Ouch!” Something must have magically kicked him, as Mathilde simpered, and throwing a venomous look our way. “Thanks.” Lore was unusually subdued as he expressed his gratitude.

Grandmere cleared her throat. “So, Matthias, any potential brides at that school of yours?” Lore snorted into his plate. I threw a withering glance at him.

“Unfortunately, no Grandmere.” She sniffed, a sort of I-told-you-so aimed at my parents who stiffened. They had been reluctant to let me go to Madame Maurice’s, and my grandparent’s had been fully against it. But such was life.

Lore decided to open his fat mouth. “There have been a few.”

“Oh?” My grandmother looked torn between disgusted and intrigued. Constipated summed her look up quite nicely. “Suitable?”

I smiled. Well, they had been suitable at the time. Sobering up, I shook my head solemnly. “Their family ties proved...inadequate.”

Grandmere snorted, another I-told-you-so. She was under the impression Madame Maurice was filled with monster trash. Which it was, but she didn’t need to know that.

Lore snickered again. He would be the death of me.

Choosing to ignore the oversized wolf, Mother turned to Teddy. “Have you chosen a date yet?” Both my parents and grandparent were approving. Teddy had seemingly been deemed good enough.

“Ahh, young love.” Lore sighed mockingly under his breath. Only I caught it, struggling to contain my laughter.

“Sorry.” I straightened up, after choking on my food. “Went down the wrong hole.”

Lore and I barely made it though dinner, and narrowly escaped death at dessert. “Grandmere, Father, Mother.” I bowed as they escorted us to the door, seemingly ashamed for our antics. I had protested that it was only Teddy, and he was to be a part of the family after all. My parents looked like they wished I hadn’t been a part of the family. Perhaps the wine glass recital with Lore on accompanying silverware and porcelain drums hadn’t been such a good idea.

But seeing as it had been our escape, I couldn’t complain too much. We both breathed freely away from the dead, chilling gaze of my coven. “Thank you for rescuing me.” Lore rubbed his shin.

“Yes. I’m a right knight in tin foil.” It was probably the other way round, what with the impeccably timed entrance and dinner he’d had to endure. Making our way down the grimy station, we sat down, Lore sprawled across several seats. It had been a gruelling ordeal. The journey was silent; we were that drained.

Trudging up the stone steps, I flung myself on my bed, groaning into the pillow as Skeet and Romeo, back from their own family dinners looked at me sympathetically.

“What, did Lore eat you out of house and home?” Romeo laughed. Skeet snickered along.

Lore protested his innocence. “Nah. Not for lack of trying though.” Lore tried to hide his blush. “We got kicked out.”

Lore giggled, nudging me. “Tell them about the impromptu jam session.” I smiled, remembering the horrified expressions of my relatives.

“You two.” Romeo chastised, amused. He thought covens were the rowdy, poetry reciting, rum-loving family his was. Lore and I knew better, however. Werewolves and vampires had a lot to learn from pirates. And I wasn’t just talking about the eye patches.

We lapsed into silence, before I said words that needed to be said. “Thanks guys.” They all smiled at me, understanding.

“You know we’ve got your back. Even if some of us could only be there in spirit.” Romeo smiled kindly at me, and I smiled back.

Lore cleared his throat. “Enough of the sappy stuff. Here.” It was a haphazardly wrapped present, more sticky tape than the bin liner that he’d used this year. Classic Lore. Absolutely, blooming bonkers.

‘This’ was a bound leather book, and heavy. “Thanks.” I’d gotten him another set of batteries, so I couldn’t complain.

He was pleased with his batteries, even having the courtesy to act surprised. I gave him a pack every year. And so had Skeet and Romeo. We still had no idea what he did with all of them. “Well, aren’t you going to open it?” He asked, eyes still transfixed on his batteries in wonderment.

“No.” Right now, I was tired, and anything that involved energy, like reading a book was a no go.

“But it’s empty.” He whined.

I frowned. And how am I going to read an empty book?” I was cautious of another of his bright ideas.

“It’s not for reading silly, it’s for writing! I thought you’d be better to be moody and broody on paper.”

“Where genius is kept. Hemingway.” Romeo saluted the man six feet under.

“Anyway, your broodiness will be appreciated better on paper, and besides, it’s much better when you’re fun!”

“Lore, I’m always fun.”

“When you’re not brooding.”

“I do not brood.”

“Yeah you do. You even have a brooding face. It’s all pouty and...painful looking.”

“Contrary to your belief, thinking does not hurt.”

Skeet had awoken, snickering at Lore and his lack of grey.

“Ouch! Skeet, mate! You...Brutus!” Lore fell off his chair, wobbling around on his knees and clutching his chest. Collapsing at my feet, he groaned. “Take me to bed.”

It was Romeo’s turn to snicker. “You’re not his type, Lore.”

 “And you are?” He countered.

I rolled my eyes. “Gentlemen. Sorry to disappoint, but neither of you are my type. Skeet is.”

Skeet looked torn halfway between amusement and terror. “I, erm...”

“Relax mate. Mattie isn’t going to jump you.”

I flashed him my most brilliant smile. “Yet.”

He melted a little; he was mainly human. “Leave the poor boy alone.”

The bantering carried us well into the morning. I later crawled into bed, the leather journal on my bedside table, open. Insomnia overtook me, and I turned my head to stare at the pages staring back at me.

And that was the birth of this journal.