Chapter Text
Sunshine and a soft breeze wafted over the city, the first day of clear skies in a week. Richter had been using the poor weather as an excuse to stay in his room, but Mrs. Braam was intent on getting him out of the boarding house.
“It is dark!” She announced as she made the bed. Richter stood awkwardly to the side, clutching his mother’s whip like a comfort toy. “And boys need sun! Go! Go! There is bread to be bought.”
“But.”
“No!” Meaty hands on her hips, she turned on Richter. “Go! To the sun. Then, come back. Go play !”
“I don’t want to play,” he said mutinously. Picking fights with Mrs. Braam never really worked. Not when she was tall and strong enough to pick up anyone who disagreed with her. Rowdier guests often found themselves pitched into the cobblestone streets when they annoyed her, and he had the feeling that if he did get moving, then he might be in the same situation.
“Go!” She ordered. “Come for supper.”
Glowering, he obeyed when she made a threatening gesture with his mother’s hairbrush. Down the stairs, past the other boarders, and into the street; Richter stared aimlessly about for a moment.
He picked a route, the same route he’d taken every day before the poor weather had come through. Down the street, he paused at the bakery only for Mr. Edwards to hand him a biscuit with a sympathetic pat on the head.
“Off to see your mother?”
“Haven’t been by,” he shuffled faintly, squinting at the crowds of people moving past the street. “She might be missing me.”
“Oh, she missed you, alright.” Edwards tilted his head to the side. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you see someone?” Richter asked.
“See someone? Hmmm, just the nuns. I see, ah! It’s Miss Trudy!” The elderly woman was stiffly up the street, maid trotting faithfully after her. “What a lovely woman, Ms. Trudy. I heard she offered to take you in.”
“I’m going to my aunts.” Wrinkling his nose, he ducked into the shadow of the bakery to avoid detection. When she’d passed out of sight, Richter emerged as a deep chuckle followed after him. “It’s not funny!”
“I’m not laughing.” Edwards frowned.
“Oh…thank you.”
“Off with you,” the man gestured. “Go, be about your day.”
From the bakery, Richter wandered down the docks. Dozens of ships, bright flags snapping in the breeze with crowds loading and unloading crates and bags. Sailors greeted him as he passed by, a few officers offering salutes.
He paused a few times, ducking around crates and horses, wondering which ship's officer was watching him. A few had threatened and promised to take him on board as a cabin boy, which he couldn’t imagine wanting to be.
…Richter was a Belmont! Fated to hunt monsters and evil, to uphold the family name and honor.
Still, once he was sure none of the captains were going to grab him, he stopped by the flower shop long enough for a bundle of tulips.
“Come back,” the young shopkeeper said in her thick accent. “Flowers for boarding house.”
“Thank you!” Richter waved, jogging up the hill and past the church. Pausing under the damp leaves, water dripping from overhead to the stones below in a steady beat…joined by audible footsteps. Delicate, light, but footsteps nonetheless. Whirling around, he reached for the whip, scanning the area.
It was quiet in the churchyard, and he was alone….unmistakably alone, save for the prickle along the back of his neck.
Turning around, he picked his way through the graveyard until he reached a familiar headstone. It was dry, the previous tulips having been soaked and baked through to shriveled nubs. He brushed them off, setting the new tulips in their place. “Hi, Mom.” Richter clutched the strap on his bag tightly. “I…erm. It’s been raining.” Sparing a moment to trace the words, Julie Belmont , he began to clean leaves and twigs that had been strewn over the marble from the storm. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by for a visit. Mrs. Braam wants me to go play. Ms. Trudy wants me to go to school….I don’t think that will be a good idea.” He paused, throat closing in a painfully familiar way. “I’m….I miss you, Mom….I don’t want to leave you here. It’s been….I'm really… lonely .” His voice cracked, and he dashed away furious tears. “I miss you…and…it’s not fair! I don’t want to go to France! I want to stay here!” The stone didn’t answer. “I’m really mad at you!” He shouted finally, kicking at the grass. “I’m mad! And I…I don’t want you to be dead! I want you to be here, and I want us to go and fight evil and monsters and….!” Hugging the whip close, he could almost imagine her hugging him from the side as she always did. “I don’t want to be angry…the colonel said that I could live with him…but I don’t think he knows how to fight vampires. I don’t know how to fight vampires.”
For a while he sat in silence, kicking his heels and occasionally filling her in on what he’d done and seen in the last week. As the sun was beginning to set, Richter gave her headstone a careful kiss.
“I’ll be back to visit.” He promised and left the graveyard. The same footsteps echoed behind him, and despite all of his searching, he couldn't find the culprit. Picking up the rest of the tulips and making his way back to the boarding house, Richter was increasingly aware of a presence lurking nearby.
Careful to avoid crushing the tulips, Richter turned down a shadowed alleyway. His own shadow cast before him, darker against the bricks than the dusk.
It grew, rising taller against the brickwork until the shadow loomed over him, the shadow of long hair swept to the side and revealed long, pointed ears. As Richter took a frightened half-step back as a pair of brilliant, emerald green eyes opened, gleaming from the darkness rising before him.
“ Little boy Belmont ,” the shadow whispered, the same deep voice he’d heard laughing at the bakery. Smooth, elegant, and damningly gentle, Richter felt a hand against his shoulder; long nails digging scraped against his jacket.
Richter turned and ran .
Leaving the alley, the dark, and the shadow.