Chapter 5

Elsa Prescott came from a long line of mystical priestesses. Her great, great, grandmother who was captured into slavery when she was a young woman held the secrets of their traditions close to her chest.  She passed them down with careful accuracy to her children and grandchildren. Her daughters and granddaughters -respectful of the honor bestowed upon them- took great pains to maintain purity in everything they did. If the old woman could have worked next to her great, great, grandmother while preparing a tonic or potion, her great, great, grandmother would have been pleased to see that the contents, measurements, words, and movements remained original and precise. 

Elsa’s family name was Sekibo.  When her great, great grandmother was forced to lay with her owner, the six children she bore him were given his surname and English first names. The following generations, both female and male, either by choice or by force, continued to mix with whites. By the time the slaves were freed, their blood was so intertwined and meshed with white blood that we felt taking back their true name would be disrespectful to the purity of their heritage, and returning to their native land was out of the question.

Elsa’s people were people who belonged to no one. The white race considered them black and tainted and the black race considered them white and unworthy.  Even so, both whites and blacks recognized her strength and power in the underworld. Because of this, she was the most sought after of her kind.

Having settled the weary Tatyana and her infant brother down and secure in the fact that we were sleeping, she made her way to her garden. She fully intended to telephone Maggie in the morning and have her fill in the blanks of the story about this young girl and the baby. In the meantime, she’d make a potion to slip into the girl’s drink to keep her obedient and, if need be, docile; just in case.  Something strange was amiss. She could feel it.  Until she knew better what she was dealing with, she wasn’t taking any chances.  Elsa shook her head. Maggie was far too trusting and naive. She’d have to see to her niece more closely.

Stepping into the walled garden behind Elsa’s house was like stepping into Eden.  Thick and lush with vegetation of all kinds, it was the source of her supplies for her potions and remedies and the home of her Spirits who she depended on for assistance.  The brilliant moon beams eliminated the necessity of artificial lighting and Elsa plucked and scooped the leaves, twigs, insects, and stones that she needed for her concoction with ease.

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Tatyana stretched in a cat-like manner and craned her head over the bedpost to see what type of view her window offered in the light of day.  Elsa had placed the headboard of the cozy antique brass bed directly in front of the large Victorian window.  This made it so that Tatyana was able to reap the benefits of the cool night air.  Between the fresh ocean air, her sense of security and the comfortable mattress, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d experienced such a good night’s sleep.

She searched the room for the portable crib that her hostess had produced for Charles.  Finding it empty, she flew out of bed.  Her mood was suddenly changed.

She raced down the stairs of the enormous Victorian house.  Panic filled her as she popped her head through every door along the way until she located her infant brother.   He was sitting, undisturbed, in the corner of the kitchen on a soft pad while playing with a few toys that Elsa had pulled down from the attic.

The old woman was at the stove stirring the most aromatic dish her senses ever had the pleasure of experiencing.  She wiped the dribble from the corners of her mouth while she salivated involuntarily.

“Sit, child, breakfast is ready,” Elsa commanded.

She didn’t look away from her stove as she directed Tatyana to the place she’d set at the small kitchen table.

Tatyana marveled at the quality of the china she was to eat from. It rivaled the Meissen china that Wadim had coveted so.  She picked the shallow bowl up and carefully turned it over.  The stamp on the bottom was too faded to be able to identify its maker, but she didn’t need the name to recognize the quality. Living with Wadim’s eccentricity had its perks.

She’d barely set the dish back down on the intricate lace tablecloth before Elsa moved from the stove with a saucepan in hand.  She spooned a thick porridge-like substance into the shallow china bowl. Tatyana scowled. Its visual appeal certainly didn’t match its aroma.

“It looks worse than it tastes, child,” Elsa chuckled. “Put a little of this honey on it and some cream.  It’ll be fine.” 

Tatyana reached for the packet of honey that Elsa produced from her apron pocket. 

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s an old recipe my mama taught me… and her mama taught her… and her mama taught her, and so on,” Elsa explained as she moved back to the stove and gently placed the saucepan on the burner. “It will stick to your ribs and cure whatever ails ya.”

And, with my special potion slipped in there, it will also subdue you until I have a chance to speak with that niece of mine and wrestle the full story out of her, she thought. 

Tatyana brought a spoonful of the thick gruel to her lips and tasted it timidly.  She was ravenous. Even so, something felt suspicious about this food. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but her senses were on the alert.  She shook her head and popped the spoon into her mouth. She was being foolish. Maggie had sent her to hide in her aunt’s house and she trusted Maggie. Therefore, she must also trust Elsa.

There was an under taste to the gruel that she couldn’t place, but since it was an ancient recipe that was handed down from generation to generation, she doubted Elsa would part with her secret and explain the taste away. So, she pushed aside her fears and revulsion for the flavor and cleaned her bowl.  After all, she was forced to eat far worse while being held hostage in Wadim’s den.  It may not have been the tastiest fare she’d ever had, but it was certainly the most filling.  It left her feeling quite satiated and relaxed. She couldn’t recall the last time she had felt this peaceful.

Thanking Elsa for her hospitality and the hearty fare, she picked up Charles and excused herself. She wanted to explore the grounds, which she hoped would give her a peek at the ocean. The smell of sea air produced mixed emotions for her. They inspired a sense of freedom along with trepidation and remembrance of that fateful boat trip she’d made years earlier.

She looked at Charles and sighed. He resembled Osip in so many ways.  His dark eyes and high cheekbones touted her family lineage. Her mother, Anouska, gave birth to other siblings, but they’d disappeared before Tatyana was able to see them grow.  She had no idea if they’d been sold on the black market or had been turned vampire or if they became part of Wadim’s feeding stock. She’d probably never know. 

She ran her fingers inside Charles’s mouth and along his gums. There was evidence of teeth preparing to break through.  She didn’t have experience in this area, but it seemed like he was teething way too soon. She wondered if it was because of the vampire blood.  Vampires did everything faster than humans.  Even the gestation period for the mothers giving birth was shorter than if she’d been impregnated by a human.  Concerned, she questioned if they were teeth or vampire fangs trying to break through. If rumor and memory served her correctly, they’d be teeth.  Fangs would grow only after Charles tasted the blood and flesh of another living creature.

Elsa watched Tatyana and Charles strolling aimlessly in her back garden through her kitchen window. Satisfied that sister and baby brother would be occupied for a while, she picked up the telephone and dialed Maggie’s number.