81. House of Poets

It was like an infinite tower of drawers with files of people. Dead or alive. She climbed up the stairs to search for old files from the 1800s.

“Does vampires have their record here, mother?” Caroline asked.

“Of course, my dear.” She fixed her silver eyepatch as she picked up her feather pen.

“I’m bored, mother. Can I go shopping?”

“Hmm,”

Caroline knew well that her mother wouldn’t let her out alone.

“Go with Christopher.”

“Fine.” She said as she opened another drawer. “I already organized this one. But this is our family’s files.”

“Yes, we kill as well.” She said. “It’s for the best.”

“But, the crime that Grandmother Freya committed was quite right.”

“Killing her fake mate?” Her mother asked. “It was for the best. That bastard was keeping his mate alive to be his sex slave while he enjoyed the luxury of our family’s wealth.”

“But what happened now to the House of Cyprus?”

“It’s still managed by your brother and cousins.”

“Then, when can I meet my brother?”

“