I was woozy to the core. Why the hell had I flown here? Hadn't seen my parents, my brothers and sisters? Did I want to meet my nephew? Finally get to spend some time with Misha? What am I doing here? Sitting in this stupid cafe, hiding like a rat. From who? Who is the person I'm hiding from like a lowlife?

It's me.

I'm the one sitting here amongst the clamouring, foul-smelling, death-smelling people. This is me sitting here in my short holiday dress. This is me all alone. Without a phone. Without common sense. Me and my thoughts.

But what is this unseemly behaviour, Maria? Squaring your shoulders. It's just one day. One bloody endless day, and you'll live it like you've lived decades and centuries before. Wars. Catastrophes. One day, Maria, and you'll be free.

– I'm here.

I flinched.

Markus's voice came over the hum of thousands of voices, saving me from spiritual suicide.

– I'm coming," I said, barely audibly, and left the cafe. – Where are you?

– In the car park.

– You two had a quick chat," I said quietly, walking toward the escalator leading to the underground three-level car park.

– He was in a hurry. He had a meeting in London.

– The ever-busy benefactor. Mortals just have to kiss his shoes.

– Leave it. I don't see why you don't like him. – Markus asked with a laugh.

– Why should I like him? – I grinned in turn.

– You don't, but as far as I know, you've never liked him.

– Wrong. I'm just indifferent to the fact that he exists.

I found Markus's car and sat in the back seat.

Markus grinned and started the engine.

– Put your seatbelt on, please, I don't want to get fined," he said.

I complied silently and kept my eyes on my dark red perfume bottle all the way to the castle. I had no desire to talk.

Luckily, Markus seemed to realise this, because he didn't say a word the whole way. Maybe he'd guessed the real reason I'd run away. I was so insistent on asking him about that damn Grayson…

Where's your mind, Maria? You're acting like a crazy idiot. Don't talk. Always be quiet and be happy. The smile must never leave your lips. You're free. You are beautiful. People's lives are your domain. You are Death's reaper. You are Death's helper. And you will not stoop to what Life insists you do.

***

Half an hour after we got back to the castle, it was time to open the presents, and I have to say, little Cedric was very professional and quick to unwrap the pile of boxes he'd been given. It seems that this little vampire is the happiest kid in the world. He has everything a three year old intelligent person's brain could wish for and think of. My present – a small, but incredibly high quality and fast toy helicopter – was also to Cedric's liking, so from the moment of their acquaintance, the couple never parted for a moment: the helicopter flew around the castle, and Cedric ran after it with a remote control. The baby was just shining with happiness. Well, I was extremely pleased with myself, because his mother's gift – a collection of colourful books with Polish fairy tales – was forgotten the moment he unwrapped the box and almost instantly threw it back to the mountain of already opened presents. I will never forget that keen sense of satisfaction when Mariszka's face was covered with undisguised disappointment at the sight of what fate had befallen her "lovingly chosen" gift. Our parents had given their grandson a black as tar Arabian horse, which, according to their assurances, was waiting for a small but proud owner in the country cottage of Mariszka and Markus. Of course, Mariszka immediately expressed her doubts that "giving a child an adult horse is dangerous, why not a pony?", which made everyone present, including her husband, roll their eyes. Misha and Fredrik presented their nephew with a synthesiser, expressing the hope that they would soon hear his own compositions. Expensive, pompous gifts. And only Cedric did something blatantly magical – he gave his nephew a ball and a promise to play football with him whenever the kid wanted to, and if Cedric senior was within reach (I think he didn't mean departures, but unwillingness to come out of his melancholy and lonely voluntary imprisonment in his gloomy world).

To summarise: the holiday was a success.

But soon, thankfully, it was time to part. When saying goodbye, I gave my sweet Misha a beautiful expensive dress, which I ordered in the best atelier in Toronto, according to my sketch. Misha was ecstatic, rushed to hug me and reminded me once again of my promise to come to every one of her birthdays.

"Oh, Misha, you're just taking advantage of my love!" – went through my head. But her happy eyes immediately killed any hope of excuses in me.

– And remember that you can always come to us, at any time of the year and day! – Misha chirped, not letting me out of her arms. – You're always welcome!

I suppressed a laugh. Oh, yes, Fredrik, indeed. Naive little sister.

– Maybe we'll fly to Toronto to see you! – Misha suddenly exclaimed.

I pulled away and smiled impotently: no, that's all I needed!

– I don't think it's a good idea… I won't have free time to entertain you, you know? I work twenty-four hours a day…" I whispered, not knowing how to lie more convincingly.

At the thought that Misha would inadvertently encounter one of my mortal "suitors" waiting for me at home and at work, I was horrified. Misha can't know. It would be… The end. The end of me. The end of her love for me. The end of me. No.

– It's no big deal! Even a couple of hours a day will be enough for me! After all, Fredrik will fly with me!

Fredrik covered a mocking smile with his palm.

– Misha… – I grabbed her palms and looked into her eyes. – You don't have to fly to me. I'll fly to you myself. Honestly. For a week. Just you and me. Deal?