Chapter 23
1891 was the year. I will never forget it. Queen Victoria still ruled, but she was old, and more of a symbolic figure in England. My sister grew increasingly bitter and began talking about death. She was tired of living. She cursed the day she was changed to an immortal. She would have rather suffered one lifetime of cruelty by her Romanian husband King and died than live out an eternity of meaningless nights. I was scared, and rarely left Debra's side. The only time I let her out of my sight was when the King was with her.
Everything changed the day a letter arrived from the States. Angie would often write, but this time it was different. This letter contained a picture. It was amazing how humans learned to capture a person's actual likeness on a card. My sister Debra stared at it for a long time as I read the letter out loud to her. The picture was of a man...a vampire, who resided in the port city of New Orleans. His face, Debra had not seen for over four hundred years. He was said to be of noble Romanian birth, and the self appointed Vampire King of the United States.
For a very long time Debra did not speak. She must have channeled her anger towards the one man who was the cause of her life...the very man who stared up at her from that picture. He was the one who took her dignity and forced her to be a slave to the darkness. Angie, Yvonne, and myself had done it willingly, but not Debra. She was never given a choice. Late that very evening, Mistress Debra approached the Vampire King of England and asked to be released. When he asked why, she explained with such emotion, the King could not say no. Nor would he have. The English King gave hope that not all men were evil. He respected Debra, and he helped make the preparations for her departure.
The night before we set sail...yes, Yvonne and I would join her, the King hosted a celebration in my sister's honor. Everyone made a toast, and we all danced into the early morning. Often, vampires would encourage, "Kick that American King's arse." Others would say, "Tell them the English sent you." Although two centuries we spent in England, my sister never considered herself one of them. She was an indentured guest, but she enjoyed the encouragement anyways.
As the party was winding down, the King gathered everyone around. He wanted to present his former Mistress with a gift. He spoke passionately about the fiery woman who came to him in desperation and demise. He lectured proudly how every great ruler must learn humility, learn from their mistakes, and he was no different when he was younger. He talked emphatically about how my sister had grown, and how terribly much he would miss her. The King opened a box he had placed upon the table. He reached his hands inside and then lifted my sister's crown above his head. He exclaimed that if an American King of Romanian birth was to be overthrown, then let it be by a Romanian Queen. He placed my sister's crown upon her her head, and everyone, except for the King himself, knelt down before the once again crowned Queen Debra.
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