Chapter Ten
Michelle lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling.
She had opened the blackout shutters, allowing some of the light from the moon and the stars to spill into the room around the curtains.
The absolute blackness with the shutters closed had created a claustrophobic darkness that made her nervous.
Her muscles ached, protesting every time she shifted, but it was a satisfying ache.
It reminded her of her own strength, allowing her to claw back the tiniest bit of control on this weird rollercoaster of a day.
She’d called her mum earlier and had given a rather pathetic attempt at an excuse for why she wouldn’t be coming to her house for Sunday dinner this weekend.
Mum, shrewd and an inveterate matchmaker, immediately asked, “Do you have a girlfriend? Can I meet her?” Unbidden, Michelle’s mind flicked to Lavinia, and her protests sounded half-hearted even to herself.
But then again, she could hardly tell her mum, “Actually, I’m currently holed up with a beautiful vampire and her Sisters in a safe house somewhere in the north.
And by the way, they think I’m a witch. Funny, huh?
” She could easily imagine her down-to-earth mother immediately dialling the emergency hotline to report her missing, or to request some psychiatric help.
If anything, it was probably best that she thought that Michelle had met some woman and had retreated into a love bubble.
She turned again, staring at the unfamiliar contours of the room.
Strange, distant noises rose through the walls, the settling of the old house adding to her distraction.
Mrs. Frost had made her a lovely dinner of risotto and a garden salad.
She’d eaten by herself, apparently very much out of sync with the rhythms of the vampires.
Her thoughts burst at the seams with questions about vampires, about witches, about demons, about anything and everything she didn’t know.
She ran her hands through her hair, untangling some strands.
She sat up, looked at her phone. Half past four in the morning.
She let herself fall back, counted some of her breaths, then rotated through some other relaxation techniques.
Nothing was working. Her eyes sprang open again as if of their own accord.
Her body was tired, her mind exhausted, but rest wasn’t forthcoming.
Groaning and fighting sore muscles, she rose from the bed, her bare feet finding the soft carpet.
She pulled on a pair of old leggings and pulled her jumper on over the T-shirt she’d worn to bed.
She opened the door into the dark corridor.
Nothing moved. No voices rose from downstairs to act as a beacon for her to hone in on.
She thought back to her first night here, and Lavinia’s explanation of the layout of the house.
She’d said her room was on the same floor, but in the other wing.
Michelle padded to the grand staircase. She squinted at the light spilling from the chandelier on the ceiling as she passed into an identical but mirrored corridor on the other side.
Unsurprisingly, a row of doors met her, most of them closed.
Lucretia’s warning about locked doors echoed in her mind.
For a moment she cursed herself for her impulsive quest for company, then pressed on.
She wasn’t sure what she was looking for—it wasn’t like they had conveniently put little name tags on the doors.
She continued, starting to feel rather silly.
What was she doing, creeping around this house full of vampires in the middle of the night?
She should just go back to her bedroom, try to fall asleep again. Surely, she’d succeed at some point.
Still, her feet carried her forward, following the bend of the corridor. Darkness encroached, and she wished she’d brought her phone to use as a torch. A click—a door opening? A shadow moved towards her.
“Ack!” Michelle jumped backwards, the image of a demon looming in her mind.
“Michelle?” A deep, smooth voice. Lavinia’s voice. Of course. Lavinia stood in the door opening of what Michelle assumed was her room.
Michelle willed her heartbeat to slow, but her whole body had tensed for a fight. That should teach her not to skulk around like a thief in the night.
“Did you need something?” Lavinia asked.
Her hand moved along the wall, and, with a soft click, illumination sprang to life around them.
Lavinia looked as neat as always, her ponytail slicked back and hanging straight down between her shoulder blades.
There were no marks of tiredness on her face whatsoever.
Perhaps for vampires, half past four in the morning felt like one in the afternoon did for humans.
“Well,” Michelle said. Why did she suddenly feel bashful?
“I couldn’t sleep. So I thought I’d come and see what you were up to.
” It sounded ridiculous when she said it out loud, and she immediately wished she could take it all back, retrace her footsteps, and just hide in the bedroom.
Lavinia had to think she was pathetic—she surely had more important things to do than try to assuage her insomnia.
“I was meditating,” Lavinia said. “I find it can provide some clarity sometimes.”
“Oh,” Michelle said. It wasn’t hard to picture Lavinia sitting in perfect stillness for hours; there was something incredibly self-contained about her. Had she interrupted her? There was no trace of irritation on Lavinia’s face.
“What do you usually do when you can’t sleep?” Lavinia asked.
Well, she usually dropped off the moment her head hit the pillow. Being on her feet all day at work was exhausting, and dealing with people doubly so. “I don’t know actually. It’s never really been an issue before,” she said honestly.
Lavinia contemplated that. It was odd how seriously she took everything. Warring emotions swirled within Michelle—on one hand, some embarrassment for making a big deal out of this. On the other, growing appreciation of Lavinia’s kindness.
“Maybe I can watch some TV? There isn’t one in my room, and I haven’t seen one downstairs yet either…
” Her voice trailed off. Maybe vampires just didn’t watch TV?
It was hard to picture them all relaxing.
They always seemed to be either preparing to go somewhere or having mysterious meetings behind the closed doors of Lucretia’s study.
For a moment, Michelle pictured the warrior Sisters crocheting together or visiting a theme park, and she suppressed a smile.
“Of course you can. Let me show you the TV room.” Lavinia immediately burst into action, clearly relieved to have something to do.
She led Michelle deeper down the corridor.
“There are actually two, but we rarely use the one on the second floor.” She opened a door on the left-hand side and revealed a cosy room with a large sofa curling around two sides of the room, angled towards what looked like a very expensive and very large TV.
Lavinia stepped inside and turned on a table lamp that cast a warm yellow glow across the soft fabrics that covered the room.
“Have a seat,” Lavinia said, as she grabbed the remote control from the coffee table.
Michelle planted herself on the sofa, tucking her bare feet underneath her.
Before she could say anything, Lavinia had quietly placed a grey throw blanket beside her.
Gratefully and feeling somewhat like a princess, Michelle spread the throw across her legs.
“Would you like anything to eat or drink?” Lavinia asked.
Would it be too much to ask for more? But then, Lavinia gave no indication of being annoyed or keen to get back to her meditation. “Maybe a cup of tea?” Michelle said. “Mint if you have it—anything without caffeine.”
“Sure, I’ll go get it for you.” She handed over the remote. “There should be some of those digital subscription services on there. If you can’t find anything you like, though, we also have a video and DVD library upstairs.”
“I’ll have a look, thank you,” Michelle said.
Lavinia slipped back into the hallway, and Michelle turned on the TV.
Lavinia’s words had been quite the understatement.
The home menu showed all of the well-known subscriptions, and many she didn’t recognise, some of them in foreign languages.
If she couldn’t find anything in here to watch, then she didn’t know where she would.
Although the idea of a videotape library did sound fun.
She navigated towards a familiar logo and found Harrogate Homicides.
She hadn’t watched the latest episode yet; she had planned to, when she was walking home only a day ago.
It suddenly felt like huge swathes of time had passed since then.
There was an insurmountable rift between the Michelle she had been before, and the Michelle who carried all of this knowledge of demons and vampires within her.
Lavinia returned with Michelle’s tea, the liquid releasing steam with the refreshing scent of mint. Someone had placed a little biscuit next to the porcelain cup lined with delicate blue flowers. Mrs. Frost? Or had Lavinia done that herself?
“Found anything you like?” Lavinia asked.
She put the cup and saucer onto the dark wood coffee table beside Michelle.
Its polished surface gleamed in the lamplight.
Doubtless another priceless antique. It was nothing like the glorified plywood stool Michelle had set beside her narrow and saggy sofa at home.
“I did. It’s called Harrogate Homicides. I love this show.”
“Sounds very cheerful for a sleepless night, some nice, light murder,” Lavinia said with amusement.
“It’s a cosy mystery.” Lavinia frowned, clearly unfamiliar, so Michelle elaborated.
“Sure, there is a murder, but it’s really fun.
They always get killed in a ridiculous way, like being hit by a wheel of cheese during some summer fair or something.
There are always silly village politics, and of course, the murderer is caught at the end of the episode.
” Lavinia didn’t look convinced. “You should try it.”
Before she could second-guess herself, or even really consider what she was asking exactly, she added, “Would you like to watch it with me?” Lavinia hovered between the door and the sofa; she hadn’t brought a drink or biscuit for herself.
All signs pointed to her not wanting to stay.
But a sudden yearning overtook Michelle.
She wanted to get to know Lavinia—to find the woman underneath the benign protective kindness she had shown her so far.
She had been like a knight in shining armour, popping into her life at a moment of danger.
Lavinia was a steadying presence—someone Michelle thought she could depend on, even if she’d only met her so recently.
But beyond that, who was she? What were her hopes and dreams, her fears?
Admittedly, part of Michelle was attracted by the novelty of her being a vampire, but it was more than that.
She wanted to peek behind the calm exterior.
Lavinia had seen her be so vulnerable, had already seen her cry.
She wondered what Lavinia was like when she became undone.
She watched expectantly, therefore, for Lavinia to answer. Would she maintain her respectable distance, or would she soften, ever so slightly?
“You would like me to join?” Lavinia asked. She immediately cut to the quick, not hiding behind a sham polite refusal.
If Lavinia could be straightforward, so could Michelle.
“Yes,” she answered simply. “I would like your company.” Her heartbeat rose as Lavinia moved closer, the sofa cushion dipping as she sat down next to her.
Lavinia leaned back, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle.
Michelle started the episode of Harrogate Homicides, relaxing into the familiar intro sequence.
From the corner of her eyes, she could see the rising and falling of Lavinia’s breath despite her stillness.
She found herself almost painfully aware of her presence, making it impossible to concentrate fully on the show.
As the intrepid detective traced the events leading up to the victim’s discovery at a children’s Easter egg hunt, Michelle peeked at Lavinia under the cover of taking a sip from her tea.
Lavinia had relaxed further into the cushions.
It was impossible to lounge on a big squishy sofa gracefully, but she almost managed.
Her left hand had crept up into her right sleeve, where she was massaging a scar on her wrist absentmindedly.
Michelle wondered whether it still pained her—wondered whether she had more scars beyond the ones visible.
Wondered who had tended to her wounds, or whether she’d had to face the recovery alone.
Not wanting to stare or draw attention to herself, she turned back to the detective’s interrogation of the elderly greengrocer whose answers weren’t quite lining up.
“He’s clearly lying,” Lavinia commented as the detective and her right-hand man made their way back to the police station. “Did he commit the murder?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen this one before.”
“Aren’t you the expert?” Lavinia said slyly, and Michelle laughed.
“Fine. My theory is that it’s the grieving widow. She didn’t look all that heartbroken.”
“Perhaps it was the detective herself.”
“It was definitely not the detective—that’s a completely different kind of show.”
Lavinia shrugged, unperturbed. “It could happen.”
“Absolutely not,” Michelle said. “You’re excellent with a sword, but clearly you know nothing about TV.”
Lavinia smiled. “True. I never watch any. I guess you will have to teach me.”
Michelle smiled back, settling deeper underneath the throw blanket.
Despite the strand of tension running through her—a pleasant thrum, feeding on her attraction to Lavinia—there was also comfort in talking to her, being with her.
It was so easy to sit here with her and watch TV.
It was almost like they were just two women, spending time together.
No supernatural creatures. Just them and the simple pleasure of sharing their company.
The weight of the day settled within her. The tiredness that suffused her limbs dragged at her, pulling her towards sleep. Before the murderer was apprehended, before law and order were restored to Harrogate, Michelle’s eyes closed, and sleep claimed her.