A Passion for Blood

Galan rose from his seated position on the floor, and extended his hand toward Tanith. She looked at his hand like it was a curled snake ready to bite her, and she wasn’t sure she could trust not to be bitten. “Please child, come with me and allow me to show you something. Maybe then you will see. Maybe you will begin to understand more. It is just in the other room. You may trust me. I will not harm you, nor allow you to be harmed.” Tanith took Galan’s large, warm hand in her own, allowed him to gently pull her to a standing position, and lead her to his bedroom. She followed him to the printed screen in the corner of the room, and he moved it from the corner with ease, revealing a massive oil painting of a young woman, not much older than Tanith. She was dressed in a simple peasant’s dress of pure white that laced up from her waist to her breasts. Her flowing black hair draped over her mostly bare shoulders on both sides, and her dark eyes seemed to stare through Tanith to the depths of her soul. The girl, for she was not much more than a girl, seemed to glow with a radiance of her own. Galan looked at Tanith, as Tanith gazed at the painting of the woman staring back at her. The resemblance between the painting, and of Tanith, was uncanny. Galan had spent many long, lonely hours staring at the painting, memorizing each and every detail. Tanith looked at the painting for several long minutes before turning slowly to look up at Galan. He only looked back at her solemnly, waiting for her to speak. She seemed to be at a loss for words. Galan saw the recognition on Tanith’s face as she peered up at him. He watched her closely as she examined each detail of the painting, much as he had done over so many centuries. “You see it also, yes?” “Galan? She looks exactly like me. It’s like looking into a mirror. Is this Mircea? How old is this painting? When was it painted? How old was she here?” “Yes. This was her. Two days before… we were….. separated from each other. This painting has survived for many years. Too many years to count. Too many years to think about. She was about your age in this painting, if I am to guess your age correctly. You are still young in your life. As she was.” “What happened to her? Will you tell me? Please?” Tanith pleaded with him. “Tanith, I cannot tell you. I can only say she was…. taken too soon, and I could not protect her. I will leave it at that.” Tanith saw Galan’s eyes fill with tears as he turned away from her. She could see the emotions play across his face as he turned away. Tanith caught him by his sleeve and pulled him back toward her. “She looked so happy in this painting. It’s so hard to imagine this was one of her last happy days here.” Tanith paused and looked thoughtfully back up at Galan. “Galan? When do we leave for Romania? I want to see your home. I want to see what you have shown me in my dreams. I want to know if it is all real, or if I am losing my mind.” “You are not losing your mind, child. If anything, you are gaining more of your mind that was once lost to you, but will soon be revealed.” Galan smiled and looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost dark. The sun had already set, and he was as ready to leave as Tanith was. Very possibly, more ready to leave, and see his homeland after so many years away. “We leave now.”