by Anna Katmore
“I’m trying to make you comfortable with the truth.” Dangling my feet, I lower my head and swallow before I glance at her again from under my lashes. “So we can be friends, and you don’t feel the need to send villagers up to the castle to set it on fire—with me inside.”
Her fingers ease off the stake. With her head tilted, she gives me a long, probing look. “Can you swear a vampire vow that you will never bite me? Ever. Or else you will decay to dust?”
“There’s no such thing as a binding vampire vow,” I tell her honestly, my voice gentle. “But I promise. I’m not going to do you any harm.” I really mean it, from the deepest part of my soul.
Her long silence makes me sad, though somehow the fact that she doesn’t believe me was to be expected, wasn’t it? In her world, I’m a monster. And she proves this when she finally whispers, “I think you should leave now.”
She gets up and comes to the window, gripping both wings tightly. Is this the moment when she puts a stop to our unlikely friendship? A dreary sigh pushes out of my throat, but I nod. “Goodnight, Abby.”
With one hand on the branch, I hoist myself into a squat so I can climb down. One last glance at her room from the ground and I see that the window is closed. My chest constricts. The prospect of spending every night alone in the castle from now on makes my throat tight. I push my hands into my jeans’ pockets and head across the lawn of the front garden, shoulders and head hanging again. Sometimes, it really sucks to be a vampire.
“Quentin…?” The sudden soft voice behind me slithers around me like tendrils of silky ivy. It coaxes me to turn around. Abby is not in her window. Instead, she stands in the open doorway. My breath takes a timeout.
The dim light from inside the house wraps her in a golden glow. She smiles at me. “Will you come back tomorrow night?”
It’s hard to swallow; it actually hurts. Though my lips slowly move into an answering smile, I know there won’t be any sound coming forth even if I try. So, I just nod.
She nods, too. Looking happy.
Chapter 13
The cat and the vampire
Abigail
I spend the entire day around the house. The farthest I go is to run into the shed and feed the goats since Nana is busy making sarmale for dinner, the Romanian version of spring rolls. And even then, the pocket air horn is tightly clasped in my fist. Not because I’m afraid that a vampire can get me here. I know Quentin is trapped safely within the confines of the castle until sundown, and he wouldn’t lie in wait for me in the hay.
However, I’m not so sure about werewolves.
After dinner with Nana, I go to my room and curl up on the bed with a book, but my gaze keeps skating to the open window—more frequently the darker it gets. It’s not a coincidence that it is still ajar. I just want to hear Quentin in case he returns tonight.
Yes, running after a vampire and asking him to visit again was certainly reckless, but he seemed so forlorn last night that my heart constricted for him when he left. No matter what kind of creature he is, I couldn’t send him away to live in that stuffy old castle with no one to talk to and nothing to eat. Of course, I’m not going to offer myself as a human snack, but I did come up with an idea this morning that could help release him from his burning hunger.
“Abby?”
My head snaps up from the pages at the sound of his gentle voice, a mixture of dread and anticipation shooting through my body in waves. But the tree outside my window is empty. Where the hell is he? Hopefully not hanging upside down from the gutter under the roof.
Swallowing my fear, I put the book aside and tiptoe to the window, leaning out a little to look up.
“Down, Abigail!” He laughs, but the sound is weak.
Hands braced on the window ledge, I glance into the garden and find him leaning against the apple tree. “Hey.”
“Hi. I brought your backpack.” He holds up a dark bag and then puts it on the bench beneath my window.
“Don’t you want to come up tonight?” The small hope rising within me at that question is cause for concern. Should I make an appointment at the loony bin? He is, after all, a predator for God’s sake. But one nice enough to return things that I forgot at his castle. Brownie points for the vampire.
“I—” He tilts his head, scanning the branches, but then he presses his lips together and grimaces. “No. Not tonight. Can you come down?”
Can I? Yes. Do I want to? Sort of. Should I? Probably not. Will that stop me? No.
I take a deep breath for courage before I hiss, “Okay, wait a minute.”
The garlic pill is still on my desk. That one goes into the small silver locket around my neck that holds a picture of my parents. The horn hitches a ride in the pocket of my jeans, and the stake is secure in my fist as I sneak downstairs. Nana always goes to bed early, she’s probably asleep already, but I’m still extra-extra-silent so as not to catch her attention when I head out, armed like a new-age Van Helsing.
I pull open the door and find Quentin standing just five feet away. I freeze in the threshold, my heartbeat racing in my ears.
As he looks me over through the tousled strands of blond hair falling over his forehead, his gaze snags on the wooden spike in my hand. A dark smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “Scared?”
You bet! But I swallow that fear and square my shoulders. Then I take a brave step into the night.
“Wow, Abigail Potts…” As if testing me, Quentin slowly walks closer. I totally forgot how tall he is when not perched on a branch. He leans in and murmurs in my ear, “I didn’t believe you’d really have the guts.”
Boy. A shiver swirls over my skin from my neck to my fingertips. I lift the stake, the sharp point pressing into his stomach. “You better be careful, vampire. I came prepared.”
Quentin gives me an intense look that feels as if it disconnects me from the world and totally pulls me into his spell. He wraps his fingers around my hand and very gently moves it higher on his body. “Go for the heart, little warrior,” he whispers. “You don’t want to make me suffer.”
No, I don’t. And I don’t want to impale him either, so I lower my hand. He drops his with mine, holding on a second longer than necessary. The unexpected warmth of his fingers seeps through my skin. Then he let’s go and crosses to the apple tree, where he settles on the ground, leaning against the trunk. “Sit with me?” he asks.
Could be his gentle touch that brought this strange ease to my mind, or maybe the fact that he didn’t eat me the first chance he got, but it feels oddly reassuring to follow him across the lawn. I sink to the grass and cross my legs. After a moment, I drive the pointed length of wood into the earth beside me.
Quentin smiles…weakly. His head dips back against the tree, and he suddenly looks very tired. I didn’t notice it at first, but his eyes appear darker than the last time I saw him—sunken. “Is everything okay?” I frown. “You look miserable.”
“I didn’t get a lot of rest today.” A sigh leaves him as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “This stupid jetlag is driving me crazy.”
I wonder if maybe that’s the reason he didn’t want to climb up the tree tonight. Is he too exhausted? “What do you do all day up there when you can’t sleep, and you can’t go out?”
A shrug rolls off his shoulder. “Google. Twitter. Stream some music. By the way…” He shifts his hips a little and fishes his phone from the pocket of his red hoodie. With a pleading expression, he holds it out to me. “Could you charge it again, please?”
“Sure.” When I reach out for it, and our fingers touch for a small moment, both our gazes lower to our hands. Until he takes his away. “I always imagined vampires to be cold,” I admit on nothing more than a breath.
“Most humans have a totally screwed-up picture of us.”
“Really?” I brace my elbows on my knees and interlace my fingers. “Do you die in the sun?”
Quentin’s eyebrows drag down. “Yes.”
“And you drink people’s blood?”
A sly grin appears on his face because obviously, he understands where this is going. “Yes…”
I smirk. “Perfectly correct picture then.”
He laughs, but then he nudges the sole of my sneaker with the toe of his. “You probably also think I’m spending my days tucked away in a coffin, right?”
“Well, you have one in your castle. Duh.” It’s so eerie to think that I didn’t knock into film equipment on my first day up there, after all.
“Then let me inform you that I only need it for transportation.” His attention wanders to a spot beside me, and he angles his head. I twist to find the little gray tiger cat lumbering toward us from the shed. He must have heard us talking. With a tired meow, he passes me and ambles to Quentin, who strokes his fur from his tiny head to his pointy tail. “I sleep in a bed. Here in Romania, and back home, too,” he tells me as he lets the kitten climb up his thighs to start kneading a nest.
“For transportation?” I repeat.
Tenderly, he rubs the tiger behind his ear. “To hide from the sun.”
“Okay, that makes sense. And it makes you a lot less creepy, to be honest.” Just like the little cat in his lap does.
“Creepy, uh-huh.” He chuckles, looking much too tired and weak. I’m sure his current state isn’t just from the jetlag but because he hasn’t fed. He probably just didn’t say so because he didn’t want to frighten me.
Interestingly enough, I’m not scared. Not anymore. Or maybe just not right now. He doesn’t look strong enough to even wave a cat fart away. The little thing claws its way up Quentin’s stomach and chest to brush its tiny furry face against his jaw. When he takes the kitten off and puts it down again, the tiger rolls up into a ball on Quentin’s lap and closes his eyes, purring to the vampire’s gentle strokes.
“You know what I was thinking today?” As I mumble the words nonchalantly, I busy myself ripping out a flower and plucking the petals. What I’m about to say is so crackpot that I just can’t look into his eyes when I do. “Maybe you should find someone who you can practice this mind control thing with.”
“Right.” He laughs. “And who would be so stupid to voluntarily let a vampire tamper with his or her will? You, perhaps?”
Lips compressed, I lift my gaze to him but nod my head.
His laugh dies. Of course, his suggestion was a cynical joke, but I don’t see any other option to save him from starvation.
“Abby…” He groans, and I don’t know if what I hear is frustration or reproach in his voice. “You brought a stake and, I would bet my soul, a garlic pill to come and sit with me outside your house.”
And the air horn. But Quentin’s clearly missing the point. “Still, I am sitting here with you.”
“Wondering if I’ll bite you the moment you don’t have the stake within reach.”
Bashful, I chew on my bottom lip. “Okay, so the thought has crossed my mind…” Several times. In the past three minutes. The thing is, I’ve kind of started to trust him. And like him. I don’t want to see him in so much pain. “I’m not saying that I want you to bite me and suck my blood. Ever. All I’m offering is for you to practice on me.”
The little tiger shivers from his ears to the tip of his tail in Quentin’s lap and then scoots farther up his stomach to seek shelter in the pocket of his hoodie. A purr emanates from there when Quentin places his hand over it. “And once I got the hang of it?” he demands, moving his attention back to me. “Have you thought that far ahead in your plan?”
“Then you do whatever vampires do to get their blood fix—with someone other than me.”
He cocks his head, his forehead creased into a provocative frown. “What’s your guarantee that I won’t drink from you?”
Good question. I level a long stare at Quentin, look straight into his deep blue eyes that seem to want nothing but a little comfort in this grim situation. A friend to hang in there with him. So, in a tiny whisper, I tell him the only thing that he can give me. “Your word.”
His gaze hangs on me for a baffled second, then it lowers to where he strokes the kitten under its chin just peeking out of the pocket. “You’re one of a kind, Abigail,” he says slowly, just loudly enough for me to hear.
“Well, for me you’re quite special, too, you know,” I tease him and get a tight-lipped smile in return for my retort. Then I take a real deep breath, steeling my nerves for what’s to come. “Okay, so how’s this going to work? What do I have to do?”
Quentin leans his head back and silently scrutinizes me for some time. “You really want to do this, hmm?”
I nod…and swallow.
He doesn’t move, just inhales a long breath. “All right. Then try to relax your mind. I believe it’s easiest when you let go of all thoughts. Unclamp. And, Abby…?”
“Hmm?”
He smiles. “Ease that frown.”
“Oh, God. Sorry.” I rub my hands over my face, burning with embarrassment. It’s not as easy to let go as I believed. Drawing in a deep yoga breath, I close my eyes and relax my shoulders. “Okay, I’m ready now.”
With my eyes still shut, I wait a moment, but nothing happens. I squint at him. “Are you doing anything?”
“I’m trying to find the part of your brain that’s ready to accept commands.”
Boy, that sounds weird. “How do you do that?”
“Vampires have an additional ability—telepathy. With that sense, I should be able to reach out to you mentally and stroke the responding part of your brain awake. But I’ve never used it before. It’s like a muscle that needs training. I don’t even know how to trigger it.” His hand falls from his stomach, remaining in the grass as he heaves a deep sigh. “And I’m so tired…”
“Oh. Okay.” His entire composure slackens, worrying me. “I’m afraid it’s a little dangerous for you to fall asleep in my garden. Maybe it’s best if you go to bed now, in your castle. Then you can come back tomorrow when you’re well-rested, and we can try again.”
Obviously, he can’t keep his eyes open much longer. As much as I want to run for a blanket and just tuck him in right here under the apple tree, he needs to leave now before he keels over dead again, and I have to cart him into the shed with Nana’s wheelbarrow which she uses to transport shoveled goat poop.
I climb to my feet and take his hand to pull him up. “Come on, vampire boy. Time to get some rest.” It strikes me like lightning, how oddly normal it feels to touch him. Even the joke comes easily to my lips.
Quentin rises, standing very close to me. A moment passes, then he lifts his hand and brushes his knuckles over my cheek. The move is tender, and it feels lovely. “Thanks for trying, Abigail,” he whispers in a soft voice with a smile. Then he blinks and heads out of the garden, taking a right at the road, walking home to Castle Dracula.
Absently, I reach to my cheek, skimming my fingers over the spot he touched…
Chapter 14
Knock, knock! Who’s there?
Quentin
Abby is incredible. She’s a stubborn little thing and certainly prepared for all eventualities, but her bravery tonight staggered me. Who would have reckoned that she, of all girls, would offer to let me experiment with her mind?
Not that I’d be able to wrangle anything at the moment. And I doubt it’ll be much better tomorrow. My last meal was nearly a week ago—not counting Abby’s apple strudel. The strength rapidly drains from my limbs. Every step, every lift of my arms, even keeping my eyes open demands so much energy that I’d rather just lie down and wait to fall into a coma that takes this insatiable hunger away.
Uncle Vlad is a great backer of the policy of throwing someone into the deep end. This is, after all, how he learned to be a vampire in fourteen-hundred whatever the year was. We texted a little during the day. He didn’t pick up the phone because he said that Ellie wouldn’t let him into the bedroom anymore if he started to glow again. Apparently, that’s what my ignorance does to him. But he sent me some directives in the event I don’t get my
fangs into somebody’s neck soon.
Reading the symptoms, Uncle V thinks that I probably have three, maybe four days before I start to dry out. When that process begins, I won’t be able to move anymore, so I need to drag my casket into the dungeon and put myself to rest before I freeze somewhere inside the castle. He said if he doesn’t hear from me within ten days, he’ll send Reginald to get me. Fuck. I shouldn’t have called him. If I hadn’t, he’d think I was already dying and send the creepy, old butler to check things out and take me home.
After the conversation, I turned off all my social media apps so he can no longer track me through them and see if I’m still up and about. The ten days begin now.
As I turn up the road to the castle, out of Abigail’s sight and past the woods, I reach into the pocket of my hoodie. A fluffy, soft fur ball still sleeps inside and purrs upon my gentle caress. The kitten didn’t come with me by accident. I was perfectly aware of the little tiger tucked away when I left Abby’s garden. I thought about taking him out and handing him over, I really did. But, damn, I just couldn’t. I’ll be facing endless hours in the castle again until darkness lets me escape. Lonesome hours. I can’t cope without company for much longer, and this little creature will do just fine, even if it is just a purring cat.
Meow. The tiny sound drifts from inside my hoodie. The next moment, a kitten head appears and looks around. I give him a hand to help him out and then stroke his plush pelt, something that already had a soothing effect on me earlier under the apple tree.
“Hey there, little biscuit,” I say as I lift him in front of my eyes, face-to-face, to give him a formal greeting. In return, he opens his baby muzzle with a wide yawn, baring his cute little fangs. “Ready to catch a few rats in the castle?” I lower him to my chest and flatten his ears with a tender stroke. Rats are probably not his diet yet. Damn, let’s hope he’s big enough to slurp milk from a bowl. Not that I have any in the refrigerator—or a fridge at all.
