Widow

I was a little surprised that it was a house and not a hotel, but didn't lose a word about it and followed him silently.
"It's the house of an acquaintance. I don't believe in hotels," Jonas explained, even though I hadn't asked. I looked around the area.
I had not been here before, however, it looked like any other small street in England. Houses with simple facades, small paved front yards with stairs leading to what I thought was the laundry room, and ugly walls with fences in front. Jonas had simply opened the gate and now went to the door to unlock it. I didn't even question why he had access to an acquaintance's house.
"The upstairs is kept free by her, in case of a convention," he went on to explain, as if I cared.
I still didn't reply anything. I just wanted a bed and my rest.
"There is a bed and a sofa bed." he informed me and let me in, "Where do you want to sleep?" he then asked. I looked at him sullenly.
"I couldn't care less," I mumbled as I then walked past him. He closed the door without saying anything back.
"Go ahead and look around if you want," he instructed me, gesturing into the house as he took off his coat.
It was a cozy little house with country style furniture. Even with half-height wood paneling and ugly wallpaper. Just typically English somehow.
I took a quick look around. Small kitchen, semi-open to the dining room, a guest bathroom and a living room in the front of the house.
No weapons, except for the knife block on the sideboard.
I assumed if you went past the stairs and further into the interior of the house, there was at least one more bedroom.
All in all, small rooms. And with this set up, it seemed even more cramped than it probably was. But nothing that made you suspect there was a torture cellar, so I went upstairs and looked at the rooms there as well.
There was a sort of lounge, a large bathroom, and a bedroom. In the common room there was a piano, a desk with a computer, and the folding sofa Jonas mentioned earlier.
I looked at the instrument and thought.
How long had it been since I had played?
Certainly not in fifty years.
I convinced myself that Jonas was still downstairs and went over to press a few keys.
Remembering that Mozart and Beethoven had been high in those days, I expressionlessly played the first few bars of the Moonlight Sonata. It had been a really long time.
"I thought you didn't have any big hobbies?", I heard Jonas' voice from the doorway.
"It's not a hobby either.", I grumbled quietly, stopping immediately and shoving my hands into my pockets.
"Where do you want to sleep?" he then asked me after a moment's hesitation. I pointed my chin at the sofa. He nodded, also with his hands in his pants pockets, and didn't move.
"...Are you okay?" he then asked me after a long hesitation.
"Is the question serious?", I asked, looking at him annoyed.
"If we were in the company, no. But now that it's just us, it is," he said, looking like he had no intention of leaving before he had an answer.
"I have reasons for not wanting to go back to England, and especially not to London. That you dragged me here against my will anyway I really resent. Apart from that, I'm still sick to my stomach and tired as hell," I said truthfully, my eyes fixed on the floor with my teeth clenched. Jonas was silent for a moment. 
"Widow, honestly, what else is so bad about the city today?" he asked me. 
I remained silent. 
The reminder. 
"Like I said, I have my reasons," I then muttered. 
"If you don't tell me..."
"Bullshit. Just go crash.", I snapped at him now.
Next thing I knew he would have said he couldn't help me like that.
But I didn't want his fucking help at all.
He stood in the doorway for some more time, then nodded and turned away with a muttered, "Good night, then." 
As soon as he had disappeared into the bedroom, I also closed the room door and within a very short time I was lying on the sofa and had also fallen asleep.
A few hours later I woke up drenched in sweat. 
A nightmare filled with painful memories. 
Restlessly, I sat up and rubbed my face tiredly. 
I gave up on it. 
This was now the third time I had awakened through this dream this night. I got up and opened the door of the room a crack. 
Jonas' door was open and he was snoring quite loudly. With a sigh, I wondered if I could risk a quick breath of fresh air. In principle, there was nothing to be said against it.
Quietly I put on my cardigan, took my shoes under my arm and crept downstairs.
I grabbed the front door key and out of the corner of my eye I saw something I could use right now. A pack of cigarettes. 
I looked for a lighter and put both together. 
Smoking couldn't kill me, ergo I could afford a few cigarettes. I checked one last time to see if Jonas' snoring could still be heard. Then I went out and followed the road for the time being.  
I glanced at the street signs and realized that I knew the area after all. Britannia Road... A crematorium was to be built near here at that time. The plan made the rounds big time.
Another thought that made me uncomfortable was that Norman was buried in the surrounding cemetery. 
Instantly, I grabbed a cigarette and lit it. 
I took a deep drag and closed my eyes for a moment. I didn't even know if his grave was still there or if they had re-leased it in the meantime. 
A guilty conscience plagued me. He had been more than a colleague and actually I should have taken care that it was preserved. 
But I had not managed to get over myself and return here. 
I took another drag on the cigarette and walked back and forth a few times at the end of the street, my gaze directed toward the cemetery. 
Should I go check it out? 
My stomach cramped at the thought, but my feet carried me there almost automatically. 
It was not closed off and without looking up I found my way to the place where he was buried at that time. I took a breath and then looked up. 
I stared at the old stone. 
The grave was overgrown and the stone looked worn, but Norman's name was still legible.

Norman William Anderson
17.01.1816 - 26.12.1842 

I gulped as I remembered his passing. 
Right, it had been after a Christmas party. 
And shortly after my transformation. With narrowed eyes I tried to suppress the memory and turned my back to the grave.
But I could not bring it yet over's heart to leave the cemetery already. I just stood there and listened to the wind in painful memory.

* F L A S H B A C K * 

I stood at the window, my gaze restlessly fixed on the street. I held the curtain aside with one hand and waited. The carriage had to be here any moment.
I didn't like the thought of the upcoming celebration at all, but Norman's father had personally come by to invite us. Therefore, I could not refuse. It would not only be rude, it would be an insult and I couldn't do that to Norman either. 
His family belonged to London's high society and if I still intended to continue my life in a somewhat normal way, I could not afford to descend socially. At least not any more than one already did as an orphan.
"You'll be fine," Norman said encouragingly as he entered the room. I turned my head and watched as he pushed aside a pile of dirty clothes and opened the box containing his cufflinks. I just sighed and looked back out. 
The worst part was this horrible craving for blood. 
The last week had been a horror. My stomach growled incessantly and there was nothing I would rather do than quench my thirst, but I couldn't manage to overcome my inhibitions. 
I had chosen my profession because I wanted to solve murders, not because I wanted to cause them. I felt Norman's hand on my shoulder and looked at him. 
"Relax and stay out of it. If anyone asks, just say you have a terrible headache. Usually our patio is open, then you can get some fresh air and no one will be surprised," he said confidently and then looked out the window as well. 
"Sure, at dinner I'll say I'm sick and if a lady points out to me that I'm standing under mistletoe, I'll tell her I have rotten teeth. Even if everyone there survives the evening, I'm socially dead," I said, trepidatiously, taking a step to the side when all I could focus on was his pulse. 
"You're not going to attack me, are you?" he said a little indignantly, eyeing me sadly. I kept myself at some distance from him all along.
"Not on purpose, no.", I muttered and left the room to get my coat. 
Several times the thought had crossed my mind to just run away, so as not to endanger him. 
But he had become too good a friend for that in the last years. 
For a week I had been squatting in the apartment and had not gone out once. I was afraid to leave the house because I didn't know what was happening. I was bitten, then I had been in terrible pain and had a terrible high fever for a week and then there had been a short film break. Norman said I had been dead for a short time. To be honest, I had believed that too, but then I had simply woken up again.
With a thirst that I had never felt in my life before and that no water could quench.
When I pulled the curtains aside the first morning and the sun hit my skin, I collapsed in pain. I was also only able to eat small amounts of food since then. Beyond a certain point I would feel sick and five minutes later I would vomit. I knew the old horror stories about vampires. So did Norman. 
But we both refused to see that this was what I had become. 
That from now on I was bound to drink blood and murder people because my instincts led me to do it.
When I arrived downstairs in the hallway and threw on my coat, Norman also called out that the carriage was there. I was afraid of what was coming, really afraid. But as a gentleman I could not allow it to influence my actions.
Norman locked up and came rumbling down the stairs. Then we got into the carriage together, which stopped after half an hour's ride in front of a large, elegant house.
Norman tried to cheer me up a bit with his usual jokes, but he was basically as worried as I was. He had even offered me to decline the invitation. But as I said, it was clear that with our position, that was not possible.
"I'll stay close to you. And watch out with my sister, she is a master in the art of seduction. Best stay right away from her.", he muttered as we got out and walked to the door.
Shortly after he knocked, a little girl opened the door and looked at us with wide eyes. She had reddish curls, a white septicaire dress, and pretentious braids that reached almost to her waist.
"Hey Rubi, where's your mom?" asked Norman with a big grin.
"I'll get her, just a moment please.", Said the girl and left us waiting at the door. I took a deep breath to stay calm and Norman nodded at me again. I nodded as well.
I just had to pull myself together.
Just pull myself together.
That's all.
Then the door opened once more and a beautiful woman with dark hair and an elaborate pin-up hairstyle stood smiling in front of us. She welcomed Norman with a warm hug.
"This is my cousin Maria. Maria, my colleague Widow. A genius when it comes to our financial management," Norman then introduced me to her. I forced a good face and a slight smile and gave her a kiss on the hand as she turned to me. 
"If you would give up a cigar or two, I wouldn't have to keep such a strict eye on our spending my friend," I said and was glad that Maria laughed and then turned back to Norman.
"You took a long time, your mother is talking about your tardiness again. She's over there by the fire entertaining Aunt Magret with the latest story about poor Eugene," She said to Norman after inviting us in. We went over and I was once again formally introduced to everyone.
I kept the conversations I had with Norman's relatives short and polite. Then I stood a little apart and let the evening pass with a heavy heart.

- To be continued -