On a briskly cold October morning, Ranulf and I walked into the woods. Over his arm, my husband carried a sturdy length of rope. Scaling down into the old well, he lashed it firmly beneath Mama's shoulders, and together, we heaved her to the surface.

I knelt beside her cold and bloated form, my lips muttering the Twenty-third Psalm. Tenderly, I brushed her matted gray hair away from her swollen face. She seemed a shadow of her old self. For a moment, I envisioned her happy and laughing again at one of Papa's witty remarks. I wished for those sunny days of my long ago past.

A branch snapped in the surrounding forest, alerting us to danger. Ranulf scanned the area with his penetrating eyes. Shielding Mama's body with my own, I cowered beside the old well. Perhaps the Baron had returned to punish us for disturbing the dead.

"Hello," Ranulf called, amplifying his voice. "Make your presence known, whoever you are."

Another branch snapped, and dead leaves rustled. A shadow figure appeared at the edge of the clearing. Rising, I stared at it, aghast. For a moment, I could not believe my eyes. I blinked to clear my vision. Nervously, I stood and pressed close to my husband's side.

"Prentiss?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Norah!"

Rapidly, Prentiss Wills rushed into the clearing. He stretched out his arms, willing me to run into them. When I held back, his focus shifted to my companion. He stared at us incredulously. Then, he gazed upon Mama's inert form. Kneeling, he prayed over her body.

"We plan to entomb her properly in the castle chapel," I stated, resting my hand on his back. "She deserves a Christian burial."

"Yes, indeed," the curate agreed solemnly.

When Prentiss finally stood, my husband placed his arm around my waist. We automatically drew closer to each other.

"Allow me to introduce Ranulf Zamphir," I stated quickly. "After we fled England, we married in Paris."

Prentiss stared at us dolefully. A thick silence grew between us, and the air crackled with tension.

"I... I've come to take you home," Prentiss finally announced. Although he seemed uncomfortable, he remained determined to speak his mind. "I want you..."

Menacingly, Ranulf stepped toward the curate. I tugged at his arm, holding him back.

"I've chosen my life, Prentiss," I explained briskly. Desperately, I wished to avoid a confrontation. "I am in love with Ranulf in a way that I could never love you. Please understand."

We stood beside the well in an awkward half-circle. Mama's body reposed against the crumbling stone surround. My heart broke as I glanced at her. We could not leave her in her prone state while the situation escalated.

"We must do something for Mama," I begged, breaking the tension. "Please, do not brawl over her poor dead body. Ranulf? Prentiss?"

Prentiss broke his stance first. Tenderly, he re-knelt beside Mama and folded her arms across her chest. He pushed her lids down with trembling fingers over her staring blue eyes.

The old rhyme I muttered beside my bed at night fluttered into my mind for a moment. I tried to push it aside, but it insisted on falling from my lips.

"Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep

If I should die before I wake

I pray the Lord my soul to take."

After a moment's hesitation, Ranulf fell to his knees beside me. Although he did not join us in prayer, he bowed his head. A single tear appeared in the corner of his gentle brown eye and slid to the tip of his chin. Burying his face in his hands, he cried for the first time since he became a vampire. The release of pent-up emotion affected an immediate change in him.

"I loved your Mama, Norah," he solemnly stated. "She was kindness personified. I am so sorry for my uncle's actions. He...he lured women to the castle to become governesses to the children. The poor women did not know his real intention—to suck the life out of them. I wish I could have saved her."

The sun began its descent onto the horizon. Ranulf lifted Mama's body and carried her to the castle gently. Entering a disused portion of the castle, he halted at a boarded-up door. With Prentiss's aid, they removed the barrier, and we entered the chapel. The Blessed Virgin and Child overlooked the ornate altar. Carefully, my husband laid my mother before it.

I knelt beside her and offered a prayer for her soul. Beside me, Prentiss fell to his knees and added his voice in supplication. Ranulf hovered behind us uncertainly. Using the strength of my mind, I willed him to join us. Still, he hesitated.

The last westing rays of sun beamed through the massive stained glass window, casting a glorious rainbow across the chapel. Inspired by its beauty, I cast my eyes toward Ranulf, hoping to share the joy. He stood amidst the light, his pale face suddenly transformed into a healthy complexion. He sank to his knees beside me, his lips moving in silent prayer.

Finally, we laid Mama to rest in the catacombs beneath the altar. Prentiss offered the requiem, graciously endowing my mother with the best qualities. Following the scant ceremony, I expressed my gratitude to my ex-fiancé for his kindness and generosity.

The hour drew near midnight when Ranulf and I returned to the turret bedroom. I sat before the mirror while he tended the fire. Soundlessly, he approached me and, removing the hairbrush from my hand, pulled it smoothly through my soft, brown locks. He bent swiftly and placed a small kiss on the nape of my neck.

Turning toward him, I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. My husband lifted me gently and carried me to bed. A soft smile lifted his mouth. I caressed his cheek lovingly.

"I am ready, my love," Ranulf breathed, pressing his muscular body against mine.

I rejoiced at the rigid sensation as our bodies melted together to become one. Although Ranulf never fully recovered from his vampirism, my husband transformed into a complete man that evening. The passion we shared grew into a more profound love—a love we fully celebrated night after night.

******

Our devotion to each other altered the fundamental aspect of von Helfin's castle. A magic spell did not change the gloomy edifice overnight. Time brought about the transformation. Although I never truly forgot the hellish vampire Baron, I grew away from the horror.

Ranulf and I greeted our first baby nine months after Mama's burial. My husband wanted to call her Isabella, but I insisted on Vanda-Luiza.

"We should commemorate the poor lost children," I declared, holding my little one at my breast. "Luiza and I became friends despite the circumstance. I cherished her companionship and thought of Vanda as fate's innocent victim."

"As you please, my dearest," my beloved agreed. "We shall bestow your mother's charming name upon our second daughter."

Our next child—a son—appeared eighteen months later. I took a fancy to Romanian names and called him Caturix. Six years passed before Cristofor entered our family.

"The little von Helfin family thrives," Ranulf exclaimed, appearing at my side on the sun-filled veranda.

"Zamphir," I countered, grinning up at him. "The little Zamphir family thrives." I continued to avoid using the von Helfin title whenever possible.

"Zamphir," my husband agreed, drawing me close and kissing my upturned mouth. "Norah Zamphir—I have always liked the sound of it." He tightened his embrace.

Children's laughter filled the cobbled courtyard. Together, Ranulf and I looked upon the garden beneath. Vanda-Luiza sat upon the swing while Caturix pushed with all his might. My daughter's outstretched legs reached for the sky.

"Higher, higher," the little girl screamed as the swing hovered above the stone wall. Her laughter floated across the distance, banishing past sorrows.

"My turn, Caturix," Cristofor cried, toddling toward his two older siblings. "My turn."

Swiftly, my eldest son grasped his little brother's arm. Caturix pushed him aside before the wooden swing could knock him down. Swiftly, his sister leaped down and knelt beside the three-year-old boy.

"You mustn't run beneath the swing, Cris," she admonished breathlessly. "You could get hurt."

I thought my children were so young and full of life. I adored them with all my heart.

Laughter and love filled the old castle altering every aspect of it. No longer a forbidding ruin clinging to a cragged mountaintop, the sun glittered off the high white turrets. Greenery brightened the courtyard and gardens. Even the forest surrounding the precipice sprouted anew and thrived.

Below, the village came to life. Ranulf hired workers to rebuild and farmers to plant crops. Grapes and apples grew in profusion, along with wheat and corn. On Wednesday afternoons, we held court and fairly judged local squabbles.

I never cut ties with my beloved homeland. Once a year, following the plentiful harvest, we traveled to England. Prentiss Wills, happily married to Vicar Martin Halifax's niece, Aimee, welcomed us into his vicarage home. He had taken the living in Cornwall and lived near the seaside on the North coast. It pleased me that he named one of his twin daughters Norah. The other one was called Naomi.

Ranulf's pale complexion darkened over the years. His cheeks glowed peach with delight when he cast his deep eyes upon his growing family. Cherry tones accented his full lips, and his sharp canines became less prominent. Often I ran my fingers into his unruly black hair. I loved him dearly. Despite the Baron's cruelty, I would not change the past if it meant living without my true love. 

The End