Julia seemed to sense my terrible foreboding.
"She won't kill him, Rebecca. Anne may have changed over the years, but she would never kill another vampire. Our father spent years indoctrinating us into the idea that our kind are rare and precious and never to be attacked and destroyed. Even when Jack almost killed my mother, it took every ounce of determination for my father even to try to hunt him down. Jack obviously had no such compunction, he was a psychopath to the core, but I somehow don't think Anne would, or even could go against everything we'd been raised to believe."
I said nothing, just watched her face and let the gently spoken words wash over me.
"Anne was such a sweet girl, but was Jack's partner for decades, maybe even centuries, and that can only change a person. But I have a feeling that what she's doing now is just a knee-jerk reaction to her loss. Jack wasn't by any stretch of the imagination a good person, but maybe he was good to her, eventually. And maybe she misses him, because he was all she knew."
I smiled my gratitude, hoping that she was right. I wondered if Angus and Oliver would sense her ambiguity before they destroyed her, and if it would make them change the course of their actions. I hoped they would. There had been too much death and conflict recently. And everyone made mistakes. As long as she hadn't hurt Mark, forgiveness might still be possible.
Julia led me to a bedroom where I dumped my bag, briefly taking in the pile carpet and oak furnishings, before I followed her down to the kitchen. We helped ourselves to cold meats and cheese and fresh bread before we wandered down to the library. I was tired after the flight, but I was more afraid of what I might see if I closed my eyes to try and sleep. I knew my unhelpful brain would be dreaming up the worst possible scenarios so it could play them back for me in a quiet moment. So I followed Julia and resolved to stay awake for as long as possible. Besides, we had a few pictures to sort through and catalogue. My mind flittered to an image of my mother, shrouded in disappointment at my betrayal, but I dismissed that. I had bigger issues to worry about now. And if she had been a bit more forthcoming about my father, this would never have happened, I reasoned, trying unsuccessfully to convince myself that our actions in stealing the box had been justified.
We sat down at a large desk and Julia carefully placed the wooden box between us. I leaned over and opened it, and removed a handful of the ones I'd managed to go through during the flight here. I had judged them to be the older pictures, and they were filled with stern looking men in frock coats and demure women in bonnets. Julia gasped with delight as she rifled through the collection, adjusting the chronological order of the pictures with deft hands as she searched.