Amelia knew who she was talking about immediately. “You mean Victorija, don’t you? The letter you left for Byron.”

Lucia smiled. “Just remember, things aren’t usually black and white. There are many shades of grey and many reasons why we turn out how we do.”

Amelia blinked and Lucia was gone. “Lucia? Lucia? What about my mother? Will she ever…”

But Lucia was gone and Amelia was talking to an empty room.

* * *

That night, after dinner with her granny, Daisy made her excuses about being tired and ran upstairs to her bedroom. She was desperate to learn everything she could from her ancestor’s notebook.

She changed into her nightie and jumped into bed. Daisy touched the fiery vampire bite on her neck. It was really calling her today. She had a deep, primal urge to go to Victorija and let her feed. That was dangerous. There must be another way to break this curse. Maybe Angele’s words would help her.

Daisy opened the notebook to the first entry and read the title as she had earlier. Monsters are made, not born.

Daisy didn’t know if she really believed that. She couldn’t imagine a time when Victorija wasn’t cruel and vindictive. As it had earlier, the French writing started to morph into English.

She touched the words, and with a whoosh, Daisy was pulled into a memory, Angele’s memory. Daisy looked around in shock. “What is happening?”

The still memory of a village market suddenly came to life. The noise and hustle and bustle of the market was everywhere. Stallholders tried to sell their wares, customers were haggling over prices, and horses and riders walked through the marketplace.

It appeared to be a very long time ago, going by the clothing, road, and market stalls. She looked down and saw she was still wearing her nightie, but no one batted an eyelid. She must be invisible.

She heard a voice near her say, “Thank you, Mademoiselle Angele.”

Daisy turned her head quickly and saw a young beautiful blond woman. “You must be Angele.”

To Daisy’s surprise, the woman turned and smiled. “Yes, thank you for coming here. She needs you.”

“Who?”

“Your destiny.”

“My destiny?” Daisy repeated with confusion.

Angele pointed to the other side of the market. She saw a tall, lanky blond-haired…boy? Girl? She wasn’t sure.

Angele turned to the market stall vendor and said, “Who’s that? Do you know?”

“I know all right. That’s Victorija Dred. Her family live in the castle up on the hill. I wouldn’t get too close. Everyone says the family are vampires. You probably won’t believe in them, but people go missing around here, and it always comes back to them.”

To Daisy’s surprise, Angele’s thoughts on the scene she was watching sounded clearly.