She turned her eyes back to the open pages, and what she saw shocked her. The once-unreadable French was now in English. Daisy’s stomach dropped to her toes. The notebook must be enchanted. She could read the title of the first entry in the notebook: Monsters are made, not born.

Surely Angele couldn’t be talking about Victorija? From what she’d heard about her from the Debreks and others, Victorija was a cruel vampire who revelled in terror. Angele clearly wanted her to read this notebook, but she had to think.

She heard her granny shout from downstairs, “Are you okay? I heard talking.”

“I’m just coming down, Granny.”

Daisy put the notebook back in the chest with the other letters and carried it from the room. She might be hesitating now, but Daisy knew she had to read that notebook.

Later.

* * *

Victorija strode into her castle apartment and pulled her jacket off. That wasn’t enough, so she ripped open the buttons of her white shirt. She felt hot all over and like ants were crawling under her skin.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror across the room. What had happened to her? Victorija always prided herself on her dapper appearance, but now she looked like an unkempt wild animal. Eyes red, clothes ripped open, her blond hair wild and messy.

Victorija walked over to the mirror and looked at herself silently. She was disgusted at the state she had let herself get into.

“All you had to do was take her blood.”

But she saw Angele so clearly inside her head. No matter how hard she tried, Victorija couldn’t block out the memory of her only love. She picked up the freestanding mirror and threw it across the room so hard that it embedded in the wall.

Her hands shook—in fact, her whole body was shaking apart. She needed her tonic, and her last bottle was in her desk drawer. Victorija sped over to the desk and took it out. It didn’t feel full, and when she went to drink, she only got one mouthful out of it.

She was going through it a lot more quickly now that her sickness was progressing. Anka’s potion didn’t take her constant hunger away, but it made it slightly more bearable.

Victorija saw her pile of letters from Angele, tied up with a red bow. She untied it and picked one letter from the pile randomly. Victorija opened it and began to read. It was the letter that Angele had penned before she died.

I will leave your life today, my love, but I don’t want you to get lost in anger and resentment. I want you to remember me by being the best person you can be. I know you dread becoming like your father. It’s all in your hands, Torija. Remember—monsters are made, not born. You have everything in your hands to be the woman you want to be.