by Anna Katmore
A smile stretches her lips as she gives me a sideways glance. “University of Oradea. I got my acceptance letter last week.”
“Veterinary medicine then?” My face lights up at the news because I know how long she’s dreamed of this. Her alternative would have been a job at an animal shelter just outside town, but she always wanted to do the real thing. Leaning over, I pull her into a tight hug. “I’m sure you’ll make a great vet.”
It’s so impressive, she’s always known what she wanted to do after school. Me, on the other hand…I wouldn’t mind if A-levels dragged on for another couple of years. Because, frankly, I have no idea what I want to do afterwards. Of course, there’ll be college, but with no aim or career aspiration, it’ll come way too fast.
After we sit up again and I start peeling the bark from the stick I hold, I cough a little and then ask her cautiously, “What happened with Lucifer?” Trayan’s words earlier about the geese gave me a really bad sense of foreboding.
She hangs her head, refusing to look at me. Her voice is small when she answers, “One night, a few weeks ago, he was killed. Eaten.”
Yeah, that’s what I thought. “Do you believe it was the wolf?”
Rosemarie hesitates. Then she nods.
A chill creeps up my arms. “So, the beast really comes this close to the village?” The words leave me on a breath.
“Yeah.” Her throat sounds clogged again. “But it was the only time. I think it learned its lesson.”
I cock my head. “What do you mean?”
“People set up traps around the housing estate,” Rosemarie answers. “It got hurt in one but escaped. It didn’t come so close again after that.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“It was on farmer Olson’s territory. A brutal iron claw.” Her jaw hardens with suppressed anger. “I don’t get how people can do that to any kind of animal.”
When Trayan mentioned before that Rosemarie was too attached, he certainly meant her pets. Now, it almost seems like she’s feeling sympathy for the wolf—a deadly predator.
So what? You’re friends with a vampire, a small voice inside my head sings out to me. True. But I know what Quentin is. If this wild animal really is a werewolf, I doubt that Rosemarie has any clue. And with what Quentin said about them falling into bloodlust and then possibly attacking humans, this is much different.
Right. Because your vampire wouldn’t attack you when he’s starving—because he gave you his word.
Yeah, the wiser part of me rolls her eyes and groans. She certainly wants to grab my hair and shout some sense into my ear. But I’m not inclined to listen. In fact, I’m anticipating the coming evening, after the sun sets when Quentin comes to spend some time with me in the garden again. Yep, I got attached to him super-fast. It’s probably the same as with Rosemarie and her geese.
Oh, so Quentin is your pet now?
Yes. My vampire pet. Duh! That silences the wiser part of myself.
Rosemarie jumps from the rock and startles me out of my internal conversation. “Shall we go back? Lunch will be ready soon. You can eat with us if you want.” Her face splits with a grin. “And help me shut Trayan up when he starts to lecture me again.”
I climb down the longer way and pat my butt clean of leaves and moss. “Thanks for the invitation, but Nana’s making trout today. She wouldn’t want to eat that alone.”
Rosemarie nods as we both head back toward the village. Trayan is still reading in the garden when we arrive. He closes the book and joins us as we say goodbye near the low fence.
“So? Did you two have fun in the woods?” he asks in a friendly voice. Too friendly.
“Yep. And, guess what?” Rosemarie teases him with a tight smile, pushing her hands into her pockets. “No wolf attacks.” Holding his gaze, she slips through the gate, half circling him. His answering grin for her is really cute. In fact, they look quite sweet together. But Rosemarie would bite off my head if I said that out loud.
“By the way,” she adds, “Abby has a little whistle that apparently gives wolf ears hell. Maybe I should get one of them myself.” She winks at him. “Just in case one comes to my room and wants to lick my candy.”
His smile gets a little tighter, his amused gaze following her sideways. “If a wolf finds its way into your room, the candy is probably the last thing he wants to lick.”
Rosemarie’s cheeks blush pink. Mine feel as if they’ve caught on fire. Rosemarie lowers her gaze and rasps in my direction, “Do you want to go for a swim sometime this week?” I can see why the thought of cold water came to her mind just then. With Trayan around, it’s much too hot.
“Sure. I’ll call you.”
She nods and turns toward the house, but Trayan remains with me, just chuckling at our obvious bashfulness. “Having a nice summer so far?” he asks me.
I nod, trying not to make eye contact because that would only add another shovelful of coals to the heat in my face.
“Did you see the movie guy again? What you said the other day sounded quite thrilling.”
Instantly, my gaze moves up all on its own. “I—” Damn, what should I say? Quentin isn’t a good topic to discuss with Trayan. More, I don’t want to give him or even Rosemarie the idea to wander up to the castle and go looking for Quentin by themselves. My throat dries. I shake my head. “No. He left again.” Right, good one. Go on, lie hell for leather at his face. “He was only here for a couple of days…er…checking things out. Then he flew back home.”
Trayan’s smile loses its shine. Slowly, he cocks his head, giving me one hell of a creepy stare, right into my eyes. “Is that so?”
I swallow. Help…!
“Leave her alone,” Rosemarie’s sulky voice from near the house cuts through the tension. “She’s my friend, not yours.”
Trayan breathes in deeply then nods at me as if I were the one upbraiding him, and he had to apologize to me. “Take care, Abigail.”
The smile completely wiped from his face now, he turns and follows Rosemarie inside. I shudder at the goosebumps he gave me, then head home, too.
Chapter 16
Sleep now
Abigail
The sun set three hours ago. I sit on the sill of the open window, feet pulled up and back resting against the frame. The waning moon hangs low in the dark sky above the forest. Outside, it’s silent. I sigh.
Quentin didn’t come.
I wonder what held him up. Yesterday, he seemed quite happy about the progress we made. Happy about any kind of company. So, why didn’t he return, even if only to pick up his phone, which has been charging in my room the entire day?
He appeared really miserable the last time he was here. Tired. He said he couldn’t sleep, and obviously, his hunger for blood is torturing him. Nana made apple strudel again in the afternoon. I brought some up to my room on a plate. Sure, it’s a silly idea and offers no real nourishment for a vampire, but I thought maybe it would raise his blood sugar a little so we could practice mind control again. Then, he could go out and find a replacement for the dessert.
But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen tonight.
Dark clouds push in front of the moon, cutting off its light. Minutes later, the first raindrops start to fall. With the gentle wind, they get blown into my room and splatter on my face. After one last look up to the castle on the hill, I slide off the ledge and close the window. It’s late anyway, and my spine cracks with a series of pops, thanks to the stretch after being perched there for so long
As I crawl into bed and pull the covers up to my chin, I hope that Quentin is all right.
*
The morning passes in a dreary blur with thick raindrops sliding down the window panes. I put on a black hooded sweatshirt and watch TV until after lunch. The summer holiday program in Romania has loads of cartoons and a show about a little vampire spending his vacation in the countryside, drinking blood from cows. I don’t understand a word of what they’re saying, but since Nana still thinks that
Netflix is a synonym for a new-age kind of knitting method and vehemently refuses it, this is all I have.
Three kittens sleep around my ankles. Only the little gray tiger is missing. I haven’t seen him in a while, actually. The vampire must have scared him, and now he won’t come out from the shed anymore. Or he just prefers a bed of hay to a cozy couch, who knows? I’ll check on him when the rain eases.
Every so often, my thoughts drift to the castle on the hill, especially while watching the vamp kid flying across the screen. My gaze wanders to the wet window. What might Quentin be doing…?
“Nana?” I ask quietly when she comes in from the goat shed. “Do you have an umbrella I can borrow?”
She slips out of her wool cardigan and wipes a few raindrops from her hair. “You want to go out in this weather?”
Yes. I think that’s exactly what I want to do. I pick myself up from the couch, breathing in deeply, and give her a nod. “Just getting cabin fever sitting here all day.”
A slow smile appears on her face, one that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Of course, my dear. I have one in the cellar. Let me get it for you.” While she disappears into the basement, I run to my room and pack a few things into my blue linen backpack—the air horn, the dog whistle, a garlic pill, and Quentin’s phone. Before I leave the room, my reflection in the mirror stops me. My throat, so pale against the black sweatshirt, looks awfully inviting, even to me. I pull up the collar, but that’s not nearly enough. Frantically, I search the room, the drawers, and the chest until I find what I’m looking for under my bed. My red bandana. Kneeling on the floor, I fold it and tie it around my neck then check in the mirror again. Yep, much better.
Downstairs, Nana waits by the door with a huge, black umbrella. “Don’t go into the woods alone, dear,” she begs me with a warning tone.
“I’ll be careful. Promise.”
She nods, still holding the umbrella. Her finger taps on the very sharp tip, drawing my gaze down. When I look back up into her eyes, she smiles again but keeps silent.
I gulp.
Nana hands over the umbrella. “Thanks,” I croak. Outside the front door, I stretch open the black monstrosity. “I’ll be back for dinner.” And if I’m not, please come to the castle and free me from the fangs of Dracula’s heir!
“Have fun,” Nana cheers and then closes the door.
My pace up the road and around the puddles on the ground is slow as if I’m just taking a casual stroll. Yet the feeling inside of me is anything but cozy. My muscles are taut like rubber bands. Jesus, do I really intend to head into a vampire’s lair? As I near the dark castle with its mighty iron gate that leads into the garden, I draw in a deep breath to steel my nerves. Please, God, let me come out of there alive. And still human.
In front of the heavy wooden door, I fold the umbrella and knock. There’s no answer. The door is locked. “Quentin?” I shout, but all I get in response is silence. Ugh, he didn’t die in there, did he?
Being dead at this time of the day is normal for him, silly, the smartass part of myself reminds me. Instead of throwing out sarcastic shit, it should tell me how to get in there with this stupid door being barred.
Secret tunnel behind the castle.
Oh, yeah. Thanks.
My face pulled into a wary grimace, I head around the thick stone walls and slip into the tunnel that leads me straight to one of the bedrooms. Holy crap, I should have brought a flashlight. My heart races like a machine gun as I crawl along the stone floor, dragging the umbrella with me.
A spooky feeling overwhelms me at the other end of the tunnel. Being back inside the castle triggers some creepy memories. Fangs. So close to my neck…
I shake off the thought and pat myself clean after crawling across the ground. Then I sneak into the corridor. This time, Quentin’s name doesn’t come easily to my lips. For some reason, I felt much braver outside.
A warm, flickering light from the great hall causes shadows to dance on the walls up here. Warily, I draw closer to the stairs and peek down. And my heart breaks a little.
Quentin sits on the hardwood floor beside the fire, legs pulled up, arms folded on his knees, his face buried in them. He doesn’t look dead. Just very, very tired. And sad.
Slowly, I make my way downstairs. “Quentin?”
He doesn’t react to my voice.
“Quentin, it’s me. Abby.”
His fingers dig hard into the sleeve of his white sweatshirt, but he doesn’t seem to really notice me. I lean the umbrella against the wingback chair on the other side of the fire and take off my backpack before I draw nearer and squat in front of him. “Quentin?” Tenderly, I touch his arm.
Only now, he lifts his head. His glazed, surprised eyes find mine. “Abby…” He takes two quiet breaths.
“Hey…” I tilt my head and offer him a small, warm smile. “Are you okay?”
“You’re here.” His forehead creases to a frown of disbelief while his voice is merely a whisper. “Really?”
“Yes…really.” When he moves his fingers down my forearms and then feels my hands, staring at them in deep relief and wonder, my throat clogs. “How do you feel?”
Again, he ignores my question but slowly gets up from the floor. I rise, too. His gaze switches to the closed door and then back to me. “How did you get in here?”
His fingers still clasp mine tightly. They feel colder than the last time he touched me. Clammy. “I crawled through the tunnel behind the castle. You didn’t answer when I knocked. Nor when I called you from upstairs.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Didn’t you hear me?”
He releases my hands, his breathing deep and strained. Closing his eyes, he massages his temples. “I thought you were just in my head, like all the other voices.”
“What voices?” I pull him over to the chair and make him sit down, but he rises again immediately and paces in front of the fireplace.
“They started after we last met. So many voices in my mind, screaming, shouting, whispering.” He stops and spins to me, his face full of fear. “I don’t know what’s happening, Abby.”
It sounds very much as though he’s snapped. I take a wary step closer, tilting my head. “When was the last time you slept?”
“I don’t know.” He pants. “I can’t. I’ve been talking to myself just to shut the voices up, but every time I fall silent, they start torturing me again.” I can see a mist of tears shimmering in his eyes. “And I’m so very tired.”
I reach for his hands, taking them carefully into mine. “Are they there now, too? The voices?”
“Yes!” A pause. “No…” His face scrunches into confused lines. “They’re gone since you came in.”
“Now, that’s good, right?” I offer him a smile. “So you just concentrate on me for a while, and we’ll make them shut up together.”
It seems like he starts to focus with new hope. His breathing evens, and his voice becomes a little steadier. “Why did you come to the castle?”
“You didn’t come to my place last night. I was worried about you.” It’s the truth. Then I kneel down by the chair and open the backpack. “And I brought your phone.” Rising, I hand it over.
Quentin looks at it for a moment before he tucks it into his jeans’ pocket. Then his gaze moves to the pointed umbrella and lingers. “You found a new weapon. Were you scared to come here?”
“No.” That’s not quite the truth, but after finding him so depressed, it was definitely the right thing to do.
His eyes find mine, the beautiful blue turned to a light shade of ice. The mist in them is suddenly gone as if someone else is looking at me from beneath those dark lashes. A tiny smile appears while his fingers brush over my red bandana. “No…?”
Hey! Where did the sad vampire go, huh? “That’s just—” Damn, I don’t want him to see that he still scares me in spite of the sympathy I felt for him ten seconds ago. My chin lifts. “It’s cold outside today.”
Quentin starts to move forward, so I w
alk back until I bump against the wall. His fingers slip behind my neck and carefully untie the bandana. Leaning in close, he whispers into my ear, “Liar…”
All right, my erratic breathing probably gives me away, but I refuse to bolt. Still, my eyes squeeze shut at the gentle caress of his warm breath on my neck as my hands flatten to his chest to keep some distance between us. Boy, his heart is beating fast in there.
“You won’t bite me.” My voice is timid. Hoarse. And low.
He pushes a little harder against my hands, bringing our bodies together, pressing me against the wall. It’s clear that I can’t escape if he doesn’t want me to. I can feel his lips on my skin now. They plant a gentle kiss on my throat. It makes me shudder. “Why do you think so?” he drawls. And then his tongue slides in a slow circle over my skin. Holy shit!
My fingers dig hard into his chest. “Because you gave me your word!” I squeak.
His lips stay in place, frozen. Seconds stretch to an unbearable eternity. Finally, he inches away and leans his forehead against mine. My breath rushes from my throat as we gaze into each other’s eyes. His hands lower to my hips, and his features cramp in a grimace, revealing only a shadow of the battle that’s probably going on inside his mind right now. “But you smell so damn good, Abigail,” he rasps.
“You smell good, too.” Shit, that was the wrong thing to say. Even though it’s true. I scrunch up my face, but Quentin starts to smile. His face looks much softer now. Prettier.
“Sorry,” he says in a gentle voice. “Not going to happen again.” Yet he leaves his brow pressed to mine for another tender moment. His slow breath brushes over my skin. He blinks leisurely. And there are the beautiful, deep blue eyes that I happen to like so much.
When he moves back and turns around to walk away from me, I suck in a sharp but quiet lungful of air, rubbing my hands over my face. Holy mother of God, that was close. I grimace at the ceiling but catch myself quickly before he turns around and sees.
