by J. J. McAvoy
If my heart could sink, it would have done so right here.
“Enter.”
In came an olive-skinned woman with short bangs, dressed in white. She looked between us and just nodded. Pelopia helped her inside and closed the door behind her. She didn’t say anything—just waited. Theseus looked at me, and I looked at him. For some reason, he appeared amused. This wasn’t funny. What was I supposed to do? Say, hi, my name is Druella. I’d like to drink your blood, preferably from your wrist.
“So young.” Theseus whispered and came behind me, placing his hand on my shoulders with a speed I hadn’t thought was too fast but made the human woman’s eyes widen. Her heart raced quickly, and the smell of the blood flowing through her tickled my nose. She did her best to calm down, though.
Theseus didn’t seem to care or notice. Instead, he stood behind me and whispered into my ear. “Humans who agree to this sort of work are fully aware of the dangers. They secretly wish to feel the pleasure. But most of them are in it for the money. It is nothing more than a transaction. Food for us, money for them. Worry less about them and more about you. Tell them what you want.”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Yes, but where would you like to bite?” he whispered. “She is a bit thin, but there is fat on her thighs, that would be sweet. She is good at staying calm, so her neck would be relaxing.”
“I was just thinking her wrist.”
He made it seem like he was cow shopping. “Ah, the ulnar artery, the main blood vessel with oxygenated blood. Good choice. It is very rich and heavy.” He pushed me forward. “Go on.”
The woman lifted her wrist to me. Taking it, I looked into her green eyes. “Why do you need the money so badly?”
She smiled. No grinned from ear to ear. “I’m getting married in a month. We spent so much on the wedding and paying off loans and getting a place. I want to surprise my fiancé with a dream vacation. He really wants to go back to visit his family in Melbourne. They can’t make the wedding. This will be so amazing—”
I bit into her wrist because I felt she’d keep going if I didn’t stop her. When the blood rushed into my mouth, my whole body relaxed. I didn’t taste or see anything, just colors. She was really, really happy. I could taste that, and the more I drank, the happier I felt for her. Feeling a hand on my back, I shifted to shrug it off when Theseus spoke.
“You drink anymore and she will not make it to the wedding.”
Stopping immediately, I glanced up at her to see how pale she’d suddenly become. I hadn’t realized I’d taken so much. “Sorry,” I said quickly.
With a tired smile, she waved me off. “No problem. I get paid by the pint.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, but I didn’t have to say anything because Pelopia was in to collect the woman and out before I even opened my mouth to speak again.
“You did well.” Theseus smiled, wiping the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “The fact that you have made it so long as a vampire is proof you were made for me.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’d say that about anything.”
“I’m glad you know.” He said. “Now that you are fed, you should bathe. My family will demand your attention, so they can be entertained soon.”
“Entertained?”
The door burst opened. Ulrik was dressed in a black leather jacket, V-neck shirt, and jeans. “Theseus? Why didn’t you say she was awake?”
I could swear Theseus’s eye twitched. “How is learning to knock a difficulty which has plagued you for centuries, brother?”
“Easily, by not accepting the necessity for it,” he stated and looked at me, his head shifting to the side with a grin on his face. “Hello, sister. How was breakfast? Was it different after being hungover? Wait, were you hungover?”
“She is not an experiment for your amusement, Ulrik.”
“Only yours, brother?” Ulrik grinned, his blue eyes back on me. He seemed to be looking everywhere but my face. It made me wonder if I was giving him another light show.
“Forgive him,” Melora stated, stepping in as suave as always. Her hair was slicked back, and the blank pants suit was so low cut it revealed tattooed words in a language I didn’t know, under the corner of her left breast. Her eyes shifted to me. “We’ve all been so concerned over your health, sister. Theseus has been very greedy and would not allow anyone but Father near you while you slept.”
“He’s never been good at sharing.” Ulrik made a face.
“And yet you somehow manage to get what you desire. Did I not tell you all that I would bring her when she awoke and was ready?” Theseus grumbled.
“Knowing you, you’d make sure she was never ready, so you could keep her to herself. If not for her hunger we would not have even known she had awakened,” Melora stated and looked at me. “How long have you been awake?”
“Just now,” I lied and apparently not well because both she and Ulrik grinned.
“You are already covering for him, sister?” Ulrik laughed. “You must work on your lying, sister. We are very good at reading the truth.”
“I was under the impression that when you apologized, Melora that you meant to take him away. I see you are in league with him,” Theseus replied.
She smiled wildly and shrugged innocently.
“You let him do what he wants because it’s what you want to do, too, and then you apologize, pretending as if you just couldn’t stop him,” I said, looking between them carefully.
Ulrik’s blond eyebrow lifted. “Well, you are smart.”
“Thank you, and Theseus is right. I don’t think I’m quite ready for company.” My hands tingled. “So, as you came, is as you shall go with a gentle breeze and a slight flow.”
None of the windows where opened, but nevertheless, the wind came, and like they were on ice, the wind pushed them back out of the room.
“What!”
“Hey!”
“This is amazing!” They both called out as they pushed out of the room. They stumbled and had to hold on to each other just before looking over to me.
But I looked at Theseus. “Would you like to say any parting words?”
“We shall see you later, brother.” He nodded at him. “Sister.”
And with the flick of my wrist, the door slammed in their faces. It was only then that Theseus looked at me, grinning like a schoolboy. “If you can teach me but only one spell in life, let it be that one.”
“Impressive right?” I grinned, lifting my hands. “I didn’t even need the voice in my head for that. I just knew I could.”
“Though I’m glad you did so.” He turned fully to me. “Why did you do so?”
I shrugged. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Very well, do not tell me,” he stated, pointing to the bathroom in his room. “I will just happily assume it is because you wish to be alone with me longer still.”
I laughed, holding up my head as I walked to the door. Grabbing it, I turned back around and gave him the most obvious shrug and smile I could. “Maybe you’re right, or maybe I just don’t want to be entertainment right now and plan to spend the rest of my day in here…alone.”
He stared at me for a long time before saying, “I’ll cut the hot water.”
“What?” I stuttered, surprised by his pettiness.
“You enjoy the hot showers. If you are using it to avoid my company, I shall cut the hot water.”
“That is childish and manipulative!”
He grinned and shrugged. “What can I say? You bring out the best and worst in me.”
I flicked my wrist again, closing the door in his face. The door slammed, and yet the grin on my face was wide. He was ridiculous, and I liked it.
I did want to spend more time with him.
Chapter 31
When I came out of the bathroom after an hour, a
towel over my head, the first thing I saw was his shirtless back. He sat on the balcony in the full sunlight in front of a canvas, sketching carefully, his hands covered in pencil markings. Like a bee to the first flower of spring, I gravitated over before I even realized I’d done it and glanced over his shoulder. I knew the flow and the style of the clothes well. “What myth or scene is this?”
“It is neither.” He wasn’t even a little bit disturbed by my closeness or my prying. He lifted his hand and sat back a bit, tilting his head to the side to look it over.
“It looks like the typical classic Greek painting. It’s a banquet, right?” I asked; so much of this period was weddings, banquets, or wars. I tilted my head to the side, looking at it again. Obviously, he wasn’t done, but something was interesting or odd. I wasn’t sure yet. I pointed to the man in the center. “This man sort of looks like your father.”
“Our father,” he corrected, sharpening the pencil. “And that is because it is him.”
I looked closer, and beside him, pouring wine—or blood—into his glass was Theseus’s mother. To her left was him and…
“Now that you are here, the entrance tablet must be redone.” He lifted his pencil, making the circles of the woman beside me. “Do you have a preference for your action? I am not sure what you’d be doing at this banquet.”
When I didn’t speak, he finally turned to face me. “Druella?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, I’m still stuck on the entrance tablet. Are you talking about the art on top of the rectangular temple raised on the high podium?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“Are you serious?” I gaped. “What happens to the old one.”
“It gets destroyed, of course.”
“Theseus!” I wanted to stomp my feet. “You can’t destroy it.”
“Father does not allow the old ones to exist. With each new member of the family, it is replaced.”
“And you remake it each time? How? The one that I saw coming in looked more than a hundred years old.” But if he remade it each time, then it couldn’t have been older than that because Atarah had been added to the family since.
“I do not recall creating the one which hangs over the entrance now, but it could have only been me. It is one of my chores.”
“Chores?”
“We do not laze about all day, Druella. We each have duties and tasks to tend to in and around our home. The entrance tablet is merely one of mine.”
“So, that means I will have one as well?”
He stared at me. “You are part of this family now; are you not?”
“You will use every method possible to make me admit it,” I shot back.
“Of course, if only to see if you truly understand what it means.” He stretched out his hand for mine, and when I gave it, he took it and kissed the back before pulling me closer to him. “Do you truly understand?”
I stared down into his grey eyes and shook my head. “No, but I getting closer and closer with each passing moment.”
“I guess that is the best I can hope for right now.” He released me to look back at his art. “I did not mean to start this now. I know I promised to keep things at a steady pace, but I had to distract myself as you bathed.”
“How honest.” I giggled and looked back to his work, wondering how this went from his mind to canvas to stone.
His eyes drifted back to it, and I couldn’t help but watch as he pored over each and every corner, how gently he made each stroke, how happy he seemed to be while he made it. It was hard not to be moved when you watched someone continuously put you over one’s self, to watch someone care about you as much as I felt like he cared about me. It made me feel a little bad about how little effort I was making. I was just rolling along with it, accepting and denying him over and over again.
Why did women do this? Why was I doing this? It was silly. But I couldn’t help it even though I knew I was doing it. When I reached up, brushing the hair from my face, he glanced at me, like he remembered I was here.
“Forgive me, is this boring you?”
“Art is never boring to me.” I replied.
“Then what is the reason for your fixed gaze? You look as if you wish to steal me away from my work.” He grinned.
“You wish,” I shot back, rolling my eyes, and he chuckled a bit before sketching again and allowing me to watch. But I couldn’t just watch. I wanted to make an effort…like him. “What’s your favorite color?”
He paused again. “My favorite color?”
I nodded.
His eyebrows bunched together. “I don’t know. In paintings, I enjoy the more vibrant colors: reds, blues, yellows, and greens.”
“So almost all of them.”
“It is an odd question that I have never been asked. Why, do you have a favorite color?”
I thought about it. “Green.”
“Green?”
“But not just any green. Emerald green. Deep green. The color of a thousand trees all standing together over the horizon. Sort of like this.” I moved to the rail of his balcony to look out at the sea of trees around the palace. It went on even as far as my vampire eyes could see. It was breathtaking. “When I was young, I use to walk through the forest all the time. I’d pick up every bug, bird, plant, and berry I could find and carry it back with me.”
“How very Wiccan of you.” He chuckled, and my head snapped back at him. “I mean that in no negative manor. It is just what I’d expect from a little witch.”
“I don’t remember there being witchcraft. I was just having fun.” I thought of a new question to shift the conversation before we went down that rabbit hole. “What’s your favorite music?”
“Of the commonly known classics, it would have to be Debussy, ‘Arabesque No. 1.’” He put his pencil down and focused on me. “And you?”
“The classics are okay, but my favorite piece of music would have to be…” I smiled because I knew he wouldn’t know it at all. “‘My Sanctuary’ from the Kingdom Hearts Soundtrack.” And just like I thought, he stared at me blankly. “It’s new music.” I laughed at the face he made.
“I shall ask Arsiein to play it. He is the best of us all when it comes to music.” He nodded to himself as if he had already decided.
“It’s more than just the melody; it’s the song.”
“He can sing as well.”
“Really?”
He nodded and then grinned. “He is very good at it but only does so when forced.”
“So, when you said you’d asked him, you meant you would force him?”
“What are older brothers for if not to annoy little brothers? If I must put up with Ulrik and Hinrik, Arsiein must put up with me.”
I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t shake this weird feeling. I stared into his eyes for a little too long apparently because I saw the concern in them.
“What is it?”
“Nothing…” I shook my head. “It just feels like déjà vu.”
“Really? At which point?”
I shrugged. “Never mind, let’s get back to the game.”
“The game? Is that what these questions are for?”
“Yes, it called twenty questions. Truthfully, it is more like a ritual. Whenever couples get together, in the beginning, there are always these standard questions. What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite song? Favorite food?”
“That one is unnecessary.” He grinned.
“Obviously now. But for mortals, it’s an important question.”
“What is the point of this game?”
I shrugged. “To get to know as much of the basics of the person you are with and maybe use to make them happy later. So, if they said they’re favorite food was pasta, then on a date one day, you’d make them pasta.”
“So, the questions are to gain leverage to use
for acts of affection later?” He stated, taking all the romance out of it.
“Sure.” I shook my head. “It’s not so much as you are forcing it. It doesn’t have to be all the time but just simple, spontaneous random acts throughout the period of time you are together.”
“May I ask questions then?” he said.
“They’re not supposed to be hard or very deep questions,” I said quickly.
“I understand. May I ask now?” He grinned at me.
I eyed him carefully but nodded. “Ask.”
“What is your favorite flower?”
“Pink cherry blossoms,” I said immediately but a little stunned at how normal the question was.
He nodded and then stood up, looking over the balcony. He pointed to the left of me. “And do you like this spot?”
“This spot? What do you mean? It’s all beautiful.”
“There,” he pointed again. “I shall plant ten thousand cherry blossoms for you.”
“Theseus!”
“Father planted a thousand rose bushes for my mother. She growled, complained, and even rolled her eyes when she first saw them, and yet, every year, she grins as if he’d given her the moon and the sun when they begin to bloom.” He placed his hands on my hips, pulling me closer. “I look forward to seeing what type of expression you shall make every season when they bloom.”
Once again, he was thinking of me, making me happy. “Are you tired of saying the most romantic things at the most opportune times? It’s very cliché.”
“Seeing how flustered and rattled you get,” he wrapped his arms around me, looking down at me. “Absolutely not.”
“I am not flustered.”
“Truly?”
“Truly—” Before I got to finish mocking him, his lips were on mine, and before I could lean into him, they were off, and he was grinning.
“Yes, I can see you are not flustered at all.”
“You—”
Knock.
We both turned toward the sound.
He let go of me, walking to the door. “Enter.”
Arsiein stepped inside, and again, I was struck at how young he looked. I hadn’t thought about it before, but his curly hair, tall, slim frame, and boyish face made him look like he was a member of some British boy band.
