Once again, Ana's jolt was enough to make the bed shake from side to side. However, her scream matched her surprise: brief and sharp. It's not as if the thought that her nightmares might have been real didn't haunt her, or that those echoing voices in her head were more tangible than mere imagination—but for some reason, something in her memories linked the voice in the darkness to a blurred attraction to the forbidden, even if the silhouette remained unclear.
The room fell silent for several seconds. Ana stared at the window with unease, but not quite fear. She was so puzzled by the memory of who the figure in the shadows might have been that she nearly forgot she was supposed to be scared.
–Well, little by little, you're starting to accept me –said the voice– At least you don't want to run away anymore.
Ana didn't say a word. Darkness returned to the corner of her room, drawing more and more shadows to itself until it formed a large blackened void.
–Now you're shy, huh? As far as I remember, last time we met you had the nerve to challenge me several times.
After a swirl of shadows, a humanoid figure took form in the center of the room. Slowly, the mist faded, revealing a tall man in a black robe with red accents that contrasted starkly with his pale skin and blond hair—but matched elegantly with the crimson in his eyes.
–And I have an excellent memory –he finished.
His presence was as intimidating as it was intriguing. Ana couldn't quite figure out how fascinated she was, since, for someone so skeptical, an encounter like this should have been impossible. And yet, here it was—undeniable. The mysterious man emerging from the fog watched her intently, with the tenderness of someone gazing at a helpless creature.
–You're still terribly inappropriate, showing up like this –Ana muttered, clutching the pillow to her chest.
–Ha! How curious. It's quite rare for someone to remember me the first time they see me. You must be a special girl –he said in a sweet tone.
...remember me the first time they see me... Ana thought. He's speaking in plural.
–So you show up in other people's houses often? –she said aloud.
–No need to get jealous, darling –he replied with a smug grin, taking a step toward the bed.
–Hey! Don't talk to me like that! –she snapped– I don't know who you are. And I would never be jealous of some disrespectful creature who barges into a young woman's room without asking.
Norall widened his eyes in surprise. Not only was this girl immune to his charm spells, but she also dared speak to him sternly. He had grown bored of women throwing themselves at him, so Ana's defiant nature caught his full attention.
–I apologize, my dear –he said, bowing– I meant that you shouldn't be alarmed by other women in my past, for you're the only one occupying my thoughts at this very moment.
–Well, I don't care if you had a hundred women a night. I just want to rest in peace. No power outages, no witches, no midnight monsters.
To Ana, both her words and the tone she used sounded completely absurd. Deep down, the surreal nature of it all gave her hope that this might just be a wild dream. But the air, the smells, the sensations—everything around her dismissed that idea. She simply didn't want to think about it too much. That way, she could hold onto enough courage to face the demonic man standing in her room, watching her closely.
–Fine then, let's get to know each other. Maybe that way you'll stop being so startled.
Ana looked ahead, hesitating. Mrs. Oswell had warned her never to let this invasive fog inside, and something told her that introducing herself might be another way of opening her door to the man.
–M-My name is Ana –she said timidly, lowering the pillow just slightly.
–Ana. What a beautiful name—'Blessed by God.'
–What? –she asked, intrigued by Norall's words– What do you mean by that?
–Nothing. Just referring to the origin of your name.
–The etymology.
Norall smiled.
–Yes, the etymology... It's a biblical name. I may not be on the best terms with that part of history, but I know it.
What did he mean by that? Was he some kind of fallen angel? Or had he never been linked to Catholicism at all? Ana's curiosity only grew. Her body language, too, seemed to lean slightly toward the strange figure before her. Though her fascination with the unknown had always been strong, this time something else was drawing her in.
Maybe it's his cologne, she thought. He really does smell amazing.
–I wonder, my young lady—what motivated such a lovely girl to move into these gloomy quarters?
Norall's voice was sweet, and his words as refined as they were gentle—an important quality for Ana, who could never date someone unable to form two articulate sentences without repeating the same terms. She also couldn't date an undead being. ...Could she?
What am I thinking? she scolded herself.
–Excuse me? –she said aloud, refusing to let her attention be won so easily– Lovely girl? I don't know if that's how you talk to every woman in this world, but I'm no girl.
–I suppose you're between twenty and thirty. So, to you, a five-year-old human is a child, right?
Ana nodded.
–Well then, imagine being four hundred and twenty-three years old. Even a hundred-year-old human would seem like a child.
Norall gave her a condescending smile, as if explaining something very simple, further affirming her status as a child. But Ana had never been one to stay quiet.
–No, they wouldn't seem like a child, because that's about as long as humans live –she shot back– If you saw a five-year-old dog, would it seem like a puppy? No, because five years is a long time for a dog. I'm not a child for a human. Now, you don't seem human, and if your kind lives thousands of years, you're the child here.
The man chuckled twice, briefly shedding his refined aura. Yet, somehow, it didn't break the spell. Ana's wit and skepticism impressed him—even while under the subtle pull of his enchanting scent.
–Well, we've spent ten minutes debating whether you're a child. Maybe it's time for a new topic.
–You started it.
–Alright, that's enough of that.
–I'll decide that, too.
Good grief. What an infuriating girl, thought Norall, but said nothing. He just closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
–Would you please tell me what brought you here?
–Why should I?
Norall's patience wore thin. He didn't plan to hurt her, but he did want her cooperation. His robe tore open, and two massive wings extended from his back. They were black, nearly two meters wide each. Like a bat's wings, but they emitted a dense dark fog.
–Okay, okay! –Ana said, fear returning to her face– I just wanted a quieter place than my old apartment. That's all.
Her eyes filled with tears and her voice broke. All the stress, the uncertainty, combined with the need to always appear composed, finally pushed her over the edge. She broke into sobs.
–I didn't want any of this. Since I arrived, I've been surrounded by constant shadows and figures. I haven't fainted only because I keep hoping this is a horrible dream and I'll wake up and go back to my old life. I want to go home.
Ana sat on the bed, hugging her knees, forehead resting on them. The sight touched Norall slightly—maybe he had been too harsh. After all, she was only human.
–I understand. All this must feel strange and overwhelming –he said gently– It's just... you seemed so brave, I forgot my place.
Ana kept crying, but looked up.
–You know, most people I visit faint the first three times they see me –he continued– Or run. You didn't. You have a spirit as strong as your temper. Listen, I won't hurt you, alright?
Her tears stopped, but she still felt fragile.
–My name is Norall Dahl. I'm what humans call a vampire –Ana's eyes widened in fear– Hey, hey. Relax. I don't feed on human blood. That's just a myth. I was human once. I just want to get to know you. All of Villa Azul belonged to my family centuries ago. When the bloodline ended, the state divided and sold the land.
–So... you're the rightful owner of this place.
Ana's words felt like a soft caress to his soul. No one had ever called him that. He had even forgotten what it felt like to blush.
–Y-Yes... I'm the rightful owner of Villa Azul. But that was a long time ago –he said, trying to stay humble– Things are a bit different now.
–And do you visit every house on your old land? –she asked shyly.
–Only the ones that catch my attention –he replied kindly– The rest, I ate!
Ana quickly shielded herself with the pillow again.
–Kidding, kidding –He scratched his neck, embarrassed– Just trying to lighten the mood.
–So... you've been visiting other houses? –Ana started connecting dots. Maybe the strange behavior around town was linked to this.
–I never said that.
Maybe I said too much, he thought.
–It's getting late. The sun will rise soon –Norall excused himself.
Ana glanced at the wall clock—it was only four in the morning.
–I hope we meet again soon –the vampire said, bowing– I'll be eager to see you.
With that, the man vanished into the black fog, and the shadows in the room returned to normal. Outside, the thick clouds split for a moment, revealing a beautiful waxing crescent moon. Ana thought she saw bats flying in the distance. She might have gone to the balcony to check, but the weight of her eyelids finally won. She collapsed into sleep.
Evangelina woke her, seemingly starving. It was almost nine in the morning, and Ana didn't fully recall the night before. There had been shadows and silhouettes, bats flying under the moonlight—but above all, two crimson eyes watching her from her room. Eyes that saw her as something special, far removed from the fearsome nature they came from. There was something seductive about them. Her fascination felt almost magical.
She felt embarrassed to even entertain the idea that some otherworldly force inhabited the mansion. Yet each morning, she stubbornly clung to rationality, explaining her dreams like daily anecdotes.
She went downstairs, hoping breakfast would clear her head. She stopped before stepping onto the first stair. At the foot of the front door was something. From a distance, it looked like a piece of paper someone had slid underneath. She approached it with the same caution and unease she used to move through the house, until she realized it wasn't just a page—it was a letter.
She picked it up upside down, hands trembling. Back home, she might've been intrigued by someone taking the trouble to send a handwritten note in modern times. Here, it felt more like a bad omen.
"From: Mrs. Oswell. To: The young woman across the street."
END OF CHAPTER 5.