Misery Loves Company

Chapter Four

Endings are never easy, and beginnings can be just the same. Sometimes they happen so fast that both experiences blend together, leaving the person suspended in decision. That is where Max is at now; caught in a cross path between the life he had given up and the new one he had chosen. He is caught in the in-between, a monster but still part human, as far as he is concerned. He still has some humanity, Max tells himself, even after he had tasted blood. He can still hold onto it and continue part of his old life. If anyone can pull it off it would be him. As hard as he tried to stay in his own personal limbo, Max's destiny had already been set as soon as he stepped onto the bridge that rainy night. He is being guided down path of immortality by the devil in a dress, and they are traveling at full speed. There is no time for goodbyes; no reason to hold onto the past. But still, Max was not quite ready to let it all good.

"Would you stop looking out the window like that?" Eloise asked as she ran a brush through her long, dark hair. It has been two days since Max's first kill, and the pair had taken refuge in a room in the bar keeper's house. Max had received his very own coffin, and took some convincing to get into it. It was tight and somewhat awkward, but in its own way it became comfortable. Max often set himself in front of the window, gazing out at the world beyond the glass. Even now, just a few days later, he was already forgetting what the morning looked like. Eloise sat in front of a broken down vanity, brushing her hair as she stares into an empty mirror.

"You look terribly pathetic," she continues to say without looking at him. "It's starting to make me depressed.

"I wouldn't want to do that," Max mumbles, mostly to himself.

"You wouldn't." Eloise glances over at him and sighs. "I don't see what you are so down about," she says, running the brush through again. "You got everything you asked for. What more could anyone want?"

"To say goodbye to my family. I never got to do that."

"I thought they were dead."

"Not all of them," Max says. There is an edge to his tone. "I would have liked to see the rest of them."

Eloise fluffs up her hair then the piles it up onto her head in shapeless style. She turns on her stool so that she is fully facing Max. "How do I look?" she asks, grinning.

Max smiles at her mass of hair. She looks much younger without all of her makeup, much more innocent too. It only makes him more scared and mystified by this girl. "Lovely," he replies.

"How about now?" Eloise sucks in her cheeks, mocking a fish.

This time he laughs. "Beautiful! You could be in pictures."

"I could," Eloise says. She releases her hair and smoothes it into its proper state. "That would be a lovely job, wouldn't it? I could sit for hours while some man stares at me, and when he is finished, I can take both his money and his blood! It's a win-win situation."

"I don't see how he wins," Max says with a slight frown.

"I'll let him finish his painting. That will be his reward: his final painting will be of a beautiful girl. What more could a painter ask for?"

"You are quite full of yourself."

Eloise shrugs her thin shoulders and goes back to grooming her hair.

"Don't you ever miss your family?" Max asks.

"No."

"Why not?"

"They're all dead," Eloise answers simply. "And stupid; they were all terribly stupid. They have been stupid and dead for many years now."

"But did you not miss them at first?"

"No," she says again. "Never knew my father, and my mother died when I was young."

"Then who did you live with?"

"My grandmother. She was a dreadful old hag; much easier to deal away with than to live with."

"What do you mean?"

"My first kill," Eloise says, brightly.

Max stares at her, feeling rather shocked. "You killed your grandmother?"

"Of course I did! You would have done the same if you had known her. Just one look at that ugly hag would turn anyone into a murderer! Honestly, she was. You would not believe that any sort of god could create something so horrible."

Max thought back to Eloise in the forest with her fierce eyes and monstrous fangs. He had thought the same.

"Don't look at me like that!" Eloise huffs. "What I did was perfectly natural."

"It's perfectly natural to kill your grandmother?"

"Like I said, you would have done the same thing if you had seen her. I was putting her and everyone who had looked upon her out of misery! I should have been awarded some sort of medal for my bravery!"

Max shakes his head, but cannot resist smiling. "But I love my family," he says. "I did not and do not plan on leaving them."

"Then why did you accept my offer?"

"I-."

"Do you honestly believe that they are going to take you back with open arms?" Eloise asks. Her voice has gone sharp, growing increasingly so with each brush stroke. " Just one look at you in your true form and they will be screaming and running for the nearest stake."

"But they're my family," Max says, desperately.

"They may be family, but they are also human. They will not understand, nor will they want to. Face it, Max. There is no turning back now."

"I have to-."

"You don't." Eloise's tone softens now. "Trust me, you don't want to. It will not end well for anyone. It's best if we all move on with our lives."

Max straightens up, fully prepared to argue. "I have to," he repeats. "This is my family we are talking about. My son; I have to see him one last time. You won't be able to stop me from seeing my son."

"I am your mother and you must do what I say."

"You are not my mother."

"I am too! I gave you life, and that is what a mother does."

"I already have a mother and she is not you."

Eloise rolls her eyes. "You are being incredibly difficult."

"Can you blame me?"

"Yes, and I am."

Max sighs loudly and runs a hand through his hair. He is not being the difficult one here. He is perfectly rational; what sort of father would not want to see his family, his whole life one last time? Even if it all was a failure, there must be some sort of closure. "I'm going," he says.

"And what do you suppose you are going to do when you get there?" Eloise asks. "How are you going to explain that Daddy is now a blood sucker? That will be a great father-son moment! I may tag along just to witness it!"

"No," Max says. "You cannot come with."

"You'll need me."

"No I won't."

"You will. Who else is going to prevent you from tearing into your son once you get a whiff of his sweet blood? You are not nearly strong enough to resist it yet."

Max considers this. He knows that Eloise is right. There is no telling what havoc he may unwillingly cause. He will need his guide to keep him on the right path. "Fine," he says, stiffly. "You will come, but it will only be quick. I only want one last look."

Eloise hops up from her stool. "Isn't this exciting? I will finally be able to see your house! Will there be a tour?"

"No."

"Oh, I was only joking! Let's hurry now. We must crush your spirit before the sun rises!"

The closer they come to the house, the more anxious Max feels. Even through the darkness of night, he can make out little details of his home, some that he cannot not recall being able to notice in the day light. It is still fascinating to him, and Max wonders if he will ever be able to adjust to this new level of sight. The clarity of his home, or what had once been his, was so unnatural that Max found it worrisome. It looked to be the same house, but in many ways it was a completely different building. For one, it was in not as good as shape as he previously believed. The yard become long over grown and the shrubbery lining the house could use a good trimming. The yellow paint is starting to peel and crack. Some of the shingles appear to be ready to fall right off of the roof. Max cannot remember it ever looking like that. Could so much has changed in his absence, he wondered. It was not possible; he has only been gone for a few days, not even a week yet. It had been awhile since he has taken a good look at the house, though. Since the loss of his wife and daughter, Max has been lost in his own thoughts and left the housekeeping duties to the servants. It would not be a surprise if they just let the house fall to pieces; people are never willing to do their jobs unless someone is standing over them with a whip.

"So this is where you live," Eloise says. Her eyes scan the house, examining every detail. "And only four people lived in this house? Don't you think that is a waste of space; why would four people need to live in such a large house?"

Max does not reply, and walks towards his old home. He wishes that he did not have to have Eloise tag along. She has proven herself to be quite the nuisance in the passing days. She is like a bird; a small annoying creature that constantly chirps and flaps about in his face. She is high strong and lacking in manners, something that she has no interest of improving. Max can hear Eloise following after him, her soft slippers padding quickly against the grass. He does not try to walk faster, nor does he slow down for her to catch up; he keeps his pace steady. There is a mission that needs to be completed, and it must be done as soon and with as few interruptions as possible.

By the time they reach the front of the house, Max has lost some of his enthusiasm. Perhaps Eloise is right, he says to himself as he quietly walks up the stairs. Perhaps this is not the best of ideas. He stares blankly at the front door, waiting for something to happen, though he is not sure what. All of the lights inside the house are off. Everyone is sleeping soundly in their rooms, and Max does not wish to disturb them. It is a good enough excuse to back out; it would not be kind of him to wake anyone during his final good-bye. Eloise looks from the door, up towards Max.

"Well," she says. "Are we going in or not? I have plenty of other activities that are much more exciting than staring at a door."

"Killing more innocent people?"

"Yes! Now if you don't mind being a gentleman and opening the door, I would like to get this over with so we may move on with ourselves. Go on now! Don't make me do it myself!"

Max shakes his head, but obeys the girl's orders. "You can rip a man's head right off of his body, but cannot open a door," he mumbles to himself as the two step inside the house.

"Vampire or not, I am still a lady and you are still a gentleman. Well, you claim to be one, and it is the man's job to open the door for the lady."

"And what sort of lady gets amusement from tearing open throats?"

Eloise places a gloved hand over her mouth to stifle an oncoming laugh. "Oh, would you get over that already? Now, what did we come here for? I do hope you are not planning on any face to face goodbyes."

"I'm not," Max replies softly. He walks through the parlor, heading towards the stairs with Eloise behind him. The inside of the house has also turned to be quite the mess. A very thin layer of dust covers everything, and the carpet could use a good cleaning. It looks as if all of the help has abandoned the house. Max thought of Marjorie then, and knew that his wife would not be pleased with the state the house is in. She was always on top of cleaning in their house in a way that was nearly obsessive. Everything would be made spotless, or Marjorie would go into a fit until it was up to standard. That was the house he remembers seeing with humans eyes. There is no way to know for sure this is what it had always been like.

If only Marjorie could see this, Max says to himself. If she could have seen what he sees now, the staff would be constantly cleaning.

"Do you mind if I do some exploring," Eloise whispers.

"I do mind."

"I promise that I will not kill anyone."

"No."

Eloise sighs loudly, and scowls when Max places a finger to his lips to silence her. "I don't have to listen to you," she continues to whisper. "I am above you. I am your master, your maker; I can do whatever-."

"If you don't mind, Miss Eloise," Max interrupts. "I would like to collect a few things and leave. Perhaps take a look around one last time, but that is it. Then we can go and you can do your complaining back at Murray's."

"Why must you always be so cynical?"

"I'm not." Max passes his son's room. He looks at the door, but does not dare to touch it. He will do that last, if he manages to summon up the courage to do so. Max moves swiftly to the back of the house where his old bedroom was located. He chooses only a few mementos to take along with him, one being a photograph of his family that had been taken barely a month before the first tragedy struck. For a moment, he leaves Eloise alone in the room, allowing her to further snoop through his belongings, while he slipped into the nursery next door.

Max had not been in this room since the day he had buried his daughter, a fact that he did not realize until he had entered. Time has changed many things, but it has no effect over this room. It is still the same; still pink and frilly, and everything his Suzette had loved. Her stuffed bears continue to sit at the top of her bed, resting against the pillow, waiting for a little girl that will never return. The books Max would read her many times before sleep finally took over neatly sat on white shelf, unread and collecting dust. Everything that had once been Suzette's had not been touched since the funeral. Marjorie would not allow it, and even after her own death no one dared to go against her wishes and stayed as far away as necessary. Max never had a desire to go to this room, not even to peek his head in. If he was not as desperate as he is now, Max would have continued to avoid it.

But there is a task at hand. He must complete while there is still a chance.

Max looks behind him, checking to see if Eloise had followed him in. She had not. He sighs lightly, feeling relieved. The girl can be a nuisance, and Max does not like any sort of thing getting in his way while he is trying to get something done. As he looks around the room, Max cannot decide what he should bring with him. It would have to be something small, something practical that would be easy to carry with him. There are too many precious things to choose from.

In the end, Max makes a rushed decision and grabs the first few things that came to mind. He grabbed a copy of Alice in Wonderland, one of Suzette's favorite stories, off of the shelf. He also searched through her small, ornate jewelry box, and pulled out a golden bracelet with her initials engraved into it. It had been a gift given to Suzette by her parents on what would be her last Christmas. At the time Max had said it was an extravagant present for such a small child, but Marjorie insisted on it.

That would be it; the bracelet and the book. It will be all of Suzette that he will need. Max slips the gold band into his pocket. He takes one last look around the room, trying his best to take it all in and commit every detail into his memory. As he turns to leave, Max is startled to see Eloise standing in the door frame.

"Are you finished?" she whispers.

Max says nothing as he walks past Eloise, and quietly closes the door behind him.

"Is there anything else we need to retrieve?"

"No."

No, there is nothing else Max wants other than to leave this house. He no longer wants to look at his son one last time, knowing that it will be far too painful. The only thing left to do now is to leave, and though he was feeling more than ready to leave, a part of him still wanted to stay. The night is coming to an end, and they can stay no longer. As they silently walk across the lawn, Max looks over his shoulder back at the home he had put so much time and effort into building. That life is gone now; fading just as quickly as the night was turning into day.

"How do you suppose you are ever going to move forward with your life when you keep looking back over your shoulder?" Eloise asks. "You are going to end up tripping over yourself."

Max glances at her. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No!" Eloise exclaims as she skips forward a few steps. "You have no other choice other than to move on and get out of here. A new town would do you good. Perhaps a city; there is a better selection of food there."

"We're leaving?"

"Of course! Did you think that you could stay in this dreary town forever? There are far too many people that may recognize you, and I would imagine that is something you would like to avoid," she says. "I don't like staying in one place too long, anyhow. It gets to be terribly boring."

Max looks back at the house again. Could he leave it all forever, he wonders. Is it even possible? He reaches inside of his pocket and gently fingers the smooth surface of the golden bracelet. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow night."

Leaving had not been as difficult as Max first anticipated. Being constantly on the move, it was hard for one to get proper time to mourn the loss of an old life. Eloise was restless, never staying in one town too long. She would quickly become bored with their selection of prey, or insist on moving on once people began to take notice of the growing number of sudden deaths or disappearances. Max found her unquenchable thirst for blood disturbing, but soon found himself following in her footsteps. The need for blood was undeniably strong; there was no way to avoid it.

It's only natural, as Eloise would tell him time and again.

It is hunting. It is survival. It is a sport. It is their life. Max can now recognize this, and Eloise made it much easier for him. It became a game, this new life of his, and Max can honestly say that he enjoys it. Selecting a victim for the night was always a rush, even more so than the actual killing. It was the hunt that he enjoyed; all of his hard work going towards one goal that he could always fulfill.

They stroll through the streets at night, sometimes traveling together. When they did, Max would sometimes catch men eyeing his small companion, some occasionally giving him a look of both approval of envy. Those were the sort of men that Max would often go after first, the ones he considered to be low life perverts; the world would be fine without them. The relationship between the pair was far from what those men assumed, and though it amused Eloise to no end, Max found it disturbing. Most people would assume they were a father and daughter out for an evening walk. He can hear their whispers as they pass, chirping over how lovely they are. Eloise is also pleased with this.

"Imagine me being your daughter," she says one night as they walk through the streets, searching for their night's victims.

"If you were my daughter," Max begins to reply. "You would certainly not be acting the way you do now."

Eloise scowls. "And what is wrong with the way I act?"

"Your lack of manners for one-."

"Oh, manners; they never get you anywhere!"

"Every girl ought to learn how to behave properly."

"I am over three hundred years old. I believe I should be able to behave however I like!"

"With all of that extra time in your life," Max says, "you should have been able to pick up on some manners by now. Didn't your mother ever teach you anything?"

"Of course not. My mother was too stupid to be a real mother. And then she was too dead to be one too. You cannot learn anything from someone that is stupid and dead."

"Perhaps that is what you need then."

"What?"

"A mother," Max says. "A real one. It would do you wonders."

Eloise chews on the thought. "I don't know," she says, slowly. "A mother would try to get in my way, and I already you have doing that enough."

"How do I get in your way? You always end up getting what you want."

"I know, but it is such a long process. I get so tired of hearing your opinion and then pretending to care about it. And you are such a bore to argue with!"

"But haven't you ever wanted a mother?" Max asks, steering the conversation back to the original topic.

"Not particularly."

"We could have a whole family," Max says, now mostly talking to himself.

"No thank you. I think we make a perfectly fine family already."

"But with just the two of us? Don't you think it will become lonely?"

"No, I do not think so," Eloise says stiffly. "I don't think we need any people in our company, especially not any more people who think they can boss me around. Are you forgetting that I am the one in charge here? I am older than you, and I am your mother. We don't need another one."

"Of course," Max replies.

But "of course" is not what he was thinking. Already, Max is beginning to work out a plan. He could regain everything he had lost- his family, his wealth- now that he has more time. It would be much easier now, if only he could get Eloise on his side. It would not be too difficult once he found a woman that would mesh well with them. Max scopes the area, searching for a potential wife. Looks would not be as big of a factor as it had been when he married Marjorie. He learned the hard way that beauty was not as important as brains. He would need a woman that could handle children, someone that was good with discipline since that is, in his opinion, what Eloise is in need of. She would also need to be kind and patient, more so than the norm so that she may be able to tolerate Eloise better. It would not be that difficult, Max told himself. There has to be someone like that out here.

I was going to make this longer, especially since it takes me forever to update, but this feels like the right spot to stop. I know this is going terribly slow, but I promise that it will get better! Or at least I hope so. Thank you again to all that read and review!