by Emily Knight
Ana flew through the trees with a smile on her furry bat face. She ducked and dove, and performed tight loops. "He likes me! He likes me!" she cried to the night.
She broke through the trees and stopped at the edge of the meadow. Her bedroom candlelight still burned, and all was silent and still. She skimmed the grass and glided over the meadow to the house where she swept up the wall and through her open window. Her small abode was a square room with a coffin on the right-hand wall made up to look like a day bed, complete with throw pillow and blanket on the lid. A closet door stood on the left near the main entrance. The wall opposite the window had a small, ancient desk with a stool covered in a fabric of pink roses. The walls were covered in like color, but had stripes instead of flowers.
The room was empty, so she transformed back into her human form. Ana tiptoed over to the door to the hall. She pressed her ear against the wood and listened. No sound of her dad's cane anywhere in the house, but she locked the knob just in case. She turned and strode over to her closet and opened the door. Inside the small space was more jeans and white blouses along with several boxes full of pairs of her black shoes. She pulled out the bottom box and opened it. Inside lay Peter's sweater, lovingly folded inside the small confines.
Ana smiled and hugged the sweater against her chest. She buried her face into the soft, thick fabric and inhaled his scent. A+ blood with a hint of alcohol and sweat. It made for a tantalizing mix.
She stood and walked over to her cushioned coffin. Ana faced away from the makeshift bed and fell backward onto the thick blankets with the sweater clutched in her arms. Visions of tomorrow's meeting swept through her mind and she sighed. Finally someone her own age to talk to. Well, sort of her own age.
Ana heard a knock on her door. "Ana? Are you in there?" her dad called from the other side.
She jumped to her feet and opened her coffin. "Um, one sec, Dad!" she called back. She stuffed the sweater into the coffin and slammed the lid shut.
Her father jiggled the door knob. "Why is this locked?"
Ana rushed to the entrance and opened the door to find her father just outside her door leaning on his cane like he always did. She leaned her shoulder against the door frame and smiled at him. "I was, um, I was just dressing and didn't want you to come in."
He raised an eyebrow and glanced around the room. "Dressing for what?"
"For, um, for going to bed."
"But the sun doesn't rise for another five hours," he pointed out.
She covered her mouth to stifle a fake yawn. "I guess I'm just tired. You know, flying around and watching people can be pretty tiring." She stretched her arms over her head and winced when her back popped. "See? I'm beat. Did you want something?"
"Yes, I wish to speak about the boy you lured here tonight," he replied. He limped past her into the room and seated himself on the foot of her coffin. She glanced at the lid. Her still heart would have stopped when she noticed a piece of the sweater stuck out.
She rushed to her dad and grasped his left hand. "Um, wouldn't you rather talk about this downstairs? It's so, um, pink in here."
He turned the tables and captured her hands between his own. His eyes gazed into hers. "I know you wish to meet new people, and I have never stopped your wanderings in the park, but you mustn't allow another-" he pursed his lips, "-another of us to follow you home."
Ana's face fell and she turned away. "I know, Dad, but it's just so lonely and boring here. I mean, you and Roger and the hounds are nice, but there has to be something more than this." She turned back to him and smiled. "Besides, I don't think he was that bad. He seemed kind of nice."
Her father pursed his lips and squeezed her hands. "We can trust no one but each other, and that's all we need."
She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." She looked into his face and noticed her father staring at her with a questioning gaze. She smiled and squeezed his hand in return. "It's fine, Dad, really. Maybe I just want to be alone tonight."
"Very well. If you need me I will be downstairs," he replied. He stood and her hands slipped from his grasp. She dropped them to her sides and he limped past her to the door. He paused and turned to her. "Good day, Ana."
She gave him a small wave. "Good day, Dad."
Ana's father shut the door behind him. She waited until the echo of his cane faded away before she dove beside the coffin and pulled out the sweater. The scent of him filled the room. She hugged the sweater against her chest and smiled.
"Tomorrow."
Ana's father paused outside the door. A frown creased his lips. He limped down the hall and his cane thumped against the floor boards. He thumped downstairs and the sound of his cane was matched by the tramping of footsteps up the stairs beneath the main staircase. The door on the side of the staircase opened. Out stepped an older gentleman of seventy with a slightly bent back. He sported short gray hair, a black lab coat, and a thin pair of dark glasses. His bent back forced him to stoop a little, but what he lacked in agility he made up in cunning. The small eyes behind those glasses gathered all that was seen and remembered it.
The men met at the bottom of the main staircase. "Troubles in the home, Lysander?" the lab coat-wearing man asked the other.
"Nothing that a game of chess can't fix," Ana's father replied.
Lysander limped past the short gentleman and down the hall past the open door. The entrance led down a flight of stairs to a dark earthen basement that smelled of mold and ancient dust. He limped onward and arrived at a door on the right side of the hall near the rear of the house. The lab coat-wearing man followed, and they stepped inside. The room was a study filled with bookcases of dusty tomes and rolled maps. Opposite the door stood a gilded oak desk and beyond that was a plush chair. Behind the chair was a large bay window that looked out on the meadow and woods. On the right wall were a pair of doors, and in the center of the room was a small square table with a wooden chess set and two chairs opposite each other. The two men took their positions in the opposing chairs and replaced their pieces in their proper positions from their last game.
The lab man's eyes flickered to the face of his opponent. "I heard the brief conversation you had with the young man. He seemed like an interesting fellow."
Lysander didn't pause in setting his pieces. "There was nothing extraordinary about him."
The lab man chuckled. "Are you so sure? He seemed-well, he seemed almost human to me."
Lysander stopped his setting and his eyes flickered up to his opponent. "He was merely a vampire Ana met in the park."
The man leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin. "Fancy that, another of you so close. I wonder if he's one of those young sort who wanders around causing trouble and then leaves so you have to bear the blame."
"Maybe, but I've told daughter to stay away from him, so it doesn't matter," Lysander returned.
The lab-coat man arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure she'll stay away? She's never met someone her age before," he pointed out. He paused and tapped his chin. "He was her age, wasn't he?"
"I don't know, and I don't care. He is gone and she is here, and that is all that matters," Lysander argued. He shoved a pawn forward. "Your move."
The lab man perused the board and moved his pawn. "How old is Ana now? A hundred and sixty? She should see more of the world than this gloomy forest."
"There is nothing to see in the world," Lysander argued. He shifted another of his pawns.
His opponent moved another of his men. "She must leave you some time."
Lysander's hand hovered over a rook. His eyes flickered over to the lab coat-wearing man. "I know what you are getting at, Roger, and I won't allow it."
Roger smiled. "And what am I getting at?"
Lysander moved his chess piece forward. "I won't allow Ana to leave. Not until I am sure she is prepared for the world."
Roger chuckled. "You have done a poor job of that, my dear Lysander. If I di
dn't know any better I would say you prepared her very ill so she would never leave."
Lysander's hand wrapped around a pawn. Roger winced when he heard a distinct crack. Pieces of pawn poked out from between Lysander's fingers.
The vampire glared at the smaller man. "Do not pretend to know my intentions, alchemist."
Roger stood and bowed his head. "It seems I have spoken very rashly. You have some heavy thoughts on your mind, so I will leave you to them."
Roger strode from the room. The moment the door clacked shut behind him Lysander opened his hand. The pawn was broken into bits. He pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair. His eyes glanced up at the ceiling in the direction of Ana's room. "My little one, what have you done?"
CHAPTER 6
