Good evening, Journal. I spent an extra day with my mother and sister yesterday. They asked if I wanted to visit Hunter's grave. I rejected.

I'm back on the Mary Blaine with my mother and sister sitting in the seat across from me. They're in awe of the scenery; green fields of poppies stretching for miles with mountains in the distance.

As much as I miss their company, I must admit, I'm apprehensive to their arrival in my town. I don't know what they're capable of.

I'm not even sure who to trust! My own family who claims to be a duo of witch hunters or my girlfriend who may possibly be a vampire? I seem to be in the center of a developing storm.

I've asked my mother and sister what room they want to take. I suggested they stay in my room, and I move out to the living room.

They kindly declined, saying they'd like to stay at an inn. I find the idea quite convenient, I wouldn't want them to bump into Octavia.

I think I'll take a nap now, I'm feeling very drowsy.

...

We arrived at half past noon. I waited as my mother and sister checked into an inn, and followed them in while carrying some of their luggage.

After helping them set up, I asked if they wanted to stay at my home for a while. They accepted graciously.

Off we went, to my humble home. My mother made us tea, and very soon it felt like the old days. All that was missing was the foggy incense of my father's pipe.

That man had no manners. Etiquette tells us never to smoke in the presence of ladies, but he never cared to follow such rules.

The sun was setting outside my window, and the streets slowly grew quieter. My mother and sister stirred, so I assumed they wanted to go back to the inn. They must have been tired after the long trip.

Just as we got up to leave, a gentle knock was heard on the door. I was not prepared for the presence outside my door.

She stood gracefully in a dark green travel dress, holding a wicker basket with two expensive-looking bottles of liquor.

"Care to join me for some wine?" She took out a bottle and shook it, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

"Tara," I choked out. I subtly motioned with my eyes. Hers followed, and she realized I had guests.

"Ah," she blushed lightly. "My bad."

"You've already come this far," I said. "You're welcome to come in."

We stepped in and I closed the door.

"Mother, Juliet, meet my girlfriend, Tara Wakersfields. Tara, this is my mother and sister Juliet."

They greeted each other warmly.

"What a beautiful family!" Tara admired.

"What a beautiful young lady you found," My mother smiled.

"You must teach me how to style an updo like yours! It's simply marvelous!" My sister gushed.

Tara giggled while twirling a loose curl. "You think? You should come to my house. I can do your hair! I have all sorts of pins that would go perfectly with your brown hair."

Juliet laughed while my mother and I smiled. They were getting along so fabulously, perhaps I was wrong to worry.

"How about we drink a bit? Can't let this bottle go to waste!" Tara grinned.

"I don't see why not," Juliet agreed.

I brought four cups to which Tara poured a bottle of sloe Gin. It was a bit sweet for my taste, but the ladies seemed to enjoy it quite well. We had a merry time, laughing and chattering.

To my relief, my mother and sister did not jest about me marrying Tara. I'm slowly considering the possibility of proposing to her. If my witch-hunting mother and sister haven't found anything suspicious about her, then I must have nothing to worry about.

At last, it got dark. My mother and sister said their goodbyes and hopped on a carriage back to the inn. I didn't run into Jeffrey today.

Tara, however, requested to stay a little longer. I accepted.

"I have another wine bottle," she reminded me when we went back inside the house.

"Thank you, but I'll have to decline. Sloe Gin isn't my taste."

"How about we drink a cup of sherry?" She suggested. I complied.

She poured each of us a glass. Soon it turned into two. Three. Five. Eight.

Before we knew it, we were drunk kissing on the couch. Our hands were all over each other. Skin, clothes, we grasped everything we could.

Then, I smelled something burning. Tara and I sat up.

"Are you cooking something?" Tara asked, staring at the kitchen.

"No," I answered. "You smell it too, don't you?"

"Yes," she replied. We stood up. I checked the kitchen, while she wandered into the other rooms.

The stove was off. I didn't see anything else that would have overheated.

"You know what I just noticed?" Tara said when I walked back to the living room.

She stood in the doorway of the ominously dark study.

"What?" I asked.

"I've never visited your house before. Not to mention your bedroom~"

My eyes widened.

She quickly covered her mouth. "Pardon, was that too forward?"

"You shameless laddie!"

Tara's eyes widened too and she spun around to face the direction of the voice.

From the darkness emerged an elegantly dressed skeleton with pieces of melting flesh, lit up only by candlelight from farther within the room.

Tara screeched and jumped into my arms.

"WHAT IS THAT?!?" She wept. "We have to leave now, let's go!" She pulled on the cuffs of my sleeve.

"No," I said. I grabbed her shoulders and she let go. I felt her tremble with fear. "She's not going to hurt you."

"She?" Tara inquired.

"You won't, right Octavia?"

Tara looked as if she was about to faint.
And she did. Her eyes rolled back and her knees collapsed underneath her. I caught her before she fell.

"We must never speak her name," Tara whispered, her voice fading away.

I held an unconscious Tara in my arms as Octavia drew closer.

"So this is my granddaughter," Octavia murmured. She lifted a skeletal arm and tenderly brushed Tara's hair back.

"I've met my granddaughter," she cried.

I felt sympathy for Octavia. Never would she have imagined that she'd get to stand so close to another descendent ever again.

And now here she was.