MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

The house creaked and groaned in the late afternoon breeze, its weathered walls standing strong against the encroaching twilight. Inside, a heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft chirps of birds outside.

Dr. Martina emerged from Rose's room, closing the door quietly behind her. She paused for a moment, her shoulders sagging with the weight of concern. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her posture and made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where Nana and Gunther were waiting anxiously.

As she entered, Nana looked up from the pot of soup she was stirring, her face etched with worry. "How is she, Doctor?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dr. Martina sank into a chair at the kitchen table, running a hand through her graying hair. "Not good, I'm afraid," she said softly. "The mark's spreading fast, and she's slowly loosing herself."

Gunther, who had been pacing by the window, turned to face them. His usual jovial demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a grim determination. "There must be something more we can do," he insisted, his thick accent more pronounced in his distress.

Dr. Martina shook her head. "We're doing everything we can with the medicines and treatments available to us. But without the cure Blake and the others are searching for..." She trailed off, leaving the unspoken possibility hanging in the air.

Nana turned back to the stove, stirring the soup with more vigor than necessary. "They'll find it," she said firmly. "Blake won't let us down. He won't let Rose down."

Just then, the patter of small feet announced Celena's arrival. The little girl bounded into the kitchen, her dark curls bouncing, a stuffed rabbit clutched tightly to her chest.

"Is Mommy awake?" she asked, her big blue eyes full of hope. "Can I go see her?"

The adults exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. It was Nana who spoke, her voice gentle. "Your mommy's resting right now, sweetheart. But I'm sure she'd love to see you a little later. Why don't you help me finish making this soup for her?"

Celena's face fell for a moment, but she quickly brightened at the prospect of helping. "Okay, Aunt Nana! Can I add the carrots?"

"Of course you can, dear," Nana said, lifting the girl onto a stool next to the stove. "Just be careful, it's hot."

As Celena carefully dropped carrot slices into the simmering pot, Gunther approached Dr. Martina. "Doctor," he said in a low voice, "isn't there something you can give her to at least slow the speed at which that mark is spreading? Perhaps there's an alternative, but we just have to look closer."

Dr. Martina shook her head. "We've been over this, Gunther. Rose's condition is... unique. I've personally done all I can to cure her, we all have.

If there was something I could give her to stop the spread of that mark or slow it, I would have. For now, the best we can do is to hope and pray that Blake finds a cure and everything goes back to the way it used to be."

Gunther nodded reluctantly with suppressed emotion. "I just feel so helpless," he admitted.

Dr. Martina placed a comforting hand on his arm. "We all do. But we have to stay strong, for Rose and for Celena."

As the afternoon wore on, they fell into a routine. Nana and Celena finished the soup, filling the kitchen with a warm, comforting aroma. Gunther busied himself with minor repairs around the house, his handyman skills providing a welcome distraction. Dr. Martina divided her time between checking on Rose and poring over medical texts, searching for any clue that might help.

As evening approached, Celena grew restless. "Can I see Mommy now?" she asked, tugging on Dr. Martina's sleeve.

The doctor hesitated, then nodded. "Alright, but just for a little while. And remember, your mommy needs lots of rest to get better."

"I'll be super quiet," Celena promised solemnly.

Dr. Martina took Celena's hand and led her upstairs to Rose's room. She knocked softly before entering, Celena close behind her.

The room was dimly lit, heavy curtains drawn against the fading daylight. Rose lay in the center of the large bed, her pale face a stark contrast to the dark sheets. Her chest rose and fell with shallow, labored breaths.

"Mommy?" Celena whispered, approaching the bed cautiously.

Rose's eyes were shut as she still lay unconscious.

Celena climbed onto the bed, curling up next to her mother. "I helped Nana make you soup," she said proudly. "It has lots of carrots, 'cause they're good for you."

Celena held her mother's soft pale hands and fell silent for a while.

Dr. Martina approached the bed, checking Rose's temperature and pulse with practiced efficiency. "Are you okay Celena?" she asked quietly.

"Why is mommy not answering me, did I do something wrong?" Celena innocently asked. "Is... Is mommy mad at me?"

Dr. Martina on hearing the child's questions got so emotional, she didn't notice the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh no baby, your mommy is not mad at you okay? She's sick and she needs plenty of rest...for now".

Celena, oblivious to the happenings around her, snuggled closer to her mother. "Okay then. Can I read her a story? It always makes me feel better when I'm sick."

Dr Martina managed a small nod. "That sounds lovely, darling."

She retrieved a worn book of fairy tales from the nearby bookshelf, handing it to Celena. The little girl opened it carefully, her small fingers tracing the colorful illustrations.

"Once upon a time," Celena began, her voice clear and confident, "in a land far, far away, there was a beautiful princess who lived in a tall tower..."

As Celena read, her childish voice filling the room with tales of brave knights and magical adventures, Dr. Martina watched Rose closely hoping for a miracle to happen.

Halfway through the second story, Rose's body still lay motionless. Dr. Martina gently touched Celena's shoulder. "I think that's enough for now, sweetheart. Your mommy needs to rest."

Celena looked up, disappointment clear on her face. "But we didn't finish the story!"

"You can finish it tomorrow," Dr Martina pleaded.

"I love you, Mommy," Celena said, planting a soft kiss on Rose's cheek before allowing Dr. Martina to lead her from the room.

In the passage, Celena looked up at the doctor, her eyes wide with worry. "Is Mommy going to be okay?"

Dr. Martina knelt down, meeting Celena's gaze. "Your mommy is very sick," she said gently. "But we're all doing everything we can to help her get better. And your daddy is out there right now, looking for special medicine that will make her all better."

Celena nodded solemnly. "Daddy will find it," she said with the unshakeable faith of a child. "He's the bravest, smartest daddy in the whole world."

Dr. Martina smiled, blinking back tears. "That's right, he is. Now, why don't we go see if Nana needs help with dinner?"

As they descended the stairs, they found a masculine figure with black hoodie over his head standing in the foyer, speaking in hushed tones. Dr. Martina instinctively pushed Celena behind her, her body tensing.

"Who's that?" Celena asked, peering around the doctor's legs.

Before Dr. Martina could answer, the figure turned, lowering its hood to reveal a familiar face. It was Gunther.

"Gunther! It's just you," Dr. Martina breathed, relief evident in her voice. "What are you doing out here and who were you talking to?"

Gunther raised a brow in awe. "Relax doctor. I got a call from the parish, they were just checking on me to know how I'm doing. And I'm also observing my natural surroundings," he said. "How is Rose?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of urgency.

Dr. Martina glanced at Celena, then back to Gunther. "Not good," she said simply. "Perhaps I should go check on her again."

Gunther nodded in understanding. He stepped forward, a forced smile on his face. "Celena, my little princess, why don't you and I go check on the garden? I think those sunflowers you planted are ready to bloom!"

Celena's eyes lit up. "Really? Can we pick some for Mommy's room?"

"Of course we can," Gunther said, taking her hand and leading her towards the back door.

Once Celena and Gunther were out of earshot, Dr. Martina went upstairs to Rose's room. Nana joined her, her face a mixture of hope and apprehension.

Dr Martina approached Rose's bedside, her graceful hands hovering over the sleeping woman's form. A soft, green glow emanated from her palms as she closed her eyes in concentration.

After several tense moments, The doctor opened her eyes, her expression grave. "The mark runs deep," she said. "It's unlike anything I've encountered before. It's as if... as if her very self is being drained away."

"Isn't there anything we can do to help her?" Nana asked, her voice trembling.

The vampire doctor hesitated. "I'm afraid we cannot cure it. The cure has its roots in powerful, ancient magic. It will take an equally powerful remedy to overcome it."

Dr. Martina sank into a nearby chair, her professional composure finally cracking. "We're running out of time," she whispered. "If Blake doesn't return soon with the cure..."

Nana moved to stand behind her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We must have faith," she said firmly. "Blake has never let us down before. He won't start now."

Dr Martina drawing strength from Nana's words, began preparing herbs and crystals from a pouch beside her medical kit. "I will continue to do what I can to strengthen Rose and buy us more time," she said. "But we must be prepared for all possibilities."

Nana watched Dr Martina work, she was conducting a ritual which she had recently discovered from her findings. This ritual, according to her research will weaken whatever dark forces after Rose.

As she weaved healing and protection around Rose's still form, a sense of foreboding settled over the room. The ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder, each second a reminder of the precious time slipping away.

Downstairs, Celena's laughter drifted up from the garden, a poignant reminder of what was at stake. They all knew, without saying it aloud, that Rose's fate hung in the balance. And with it, the fate of their entire unconventional family.

As night fell, casting long shadows across the land, they could only hope that somewhere out there, Blake and his companions were closing in on the cure they so desperately needed. For in the race against Rose's mysterious illness, every moment counted.