Chapter 23 – Dahlia
Dahlia
Despite the drizzle and gloom of last night, the morning ends up being beautiful.
I help Valtu with doing the laundry since he got quite a bit of my blood on the sheets and duvet cover from feeding on me, then I help him get one of the guest rooms ready for his friends from San Francisco that are supposed to arrive in the late afternoon.
Since his house used to be a hotel, there are a ton of rooms to choose from and he selects one of the suites.
While we work together making it nice for them, I can’t help but smile at him adoringly, to the point where I think I’m weirding him out a little.
The thing is, I’m remembering being Lucy.
I remember the times we had guests over at the house in Marylebone, how Valtu really sank into his role as Count Aminoff and turned into a thoughtful host. He always wanted everything right, from the black roses placed in their gothic-looking vases, to the orange-scented soaps in the bathroom.
Everything about it screamed tasteful elegance, with a macabre touch.
Looking back, I realize all those guests that came over were vampires.
I didn’t know it at the time—he never told me he was a vampire until I was literally dying.
I wasn’t surprised though, even in those sad, final moments.
I always suspected there was something strange and unusual about him.
But since even as Lucy I had felt strange and unusual, I chalked it up to two misfits finding love with one another.
Actually, now that I think about it, the way I felt as Lucy, like there was something more to me that I didn’t realize, and how out of time I felt, out of place with most people other than my closest friends who were a little odd as well, is quite similar to the way I feel today.
How I’ve had a hard time getting people to like me, how otherworldly I feel at times, how I’ve gone through life feeling like I just don’t belong, and I wonder how much of that is just me being neurodiverse and how much is actually my past spilling over.
How can you not feel at least a little different from everyone else when you’ve already lived before?
After we finish with their room, we head downstairs and Valtu goes through his alcohol selection, bringing out only finest wines and spirits for his friends.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to make them something to eat?” I ask, wanting to be put to use.
“They’re vampires, love,” he says, inspecting a dusty bottle of red he had deep in a cabinet. “We don’t need to eat food.”
“I know you don’t need to eat food,” I tell him, opening the fridge for something that would pass as snacks. Everything in here is for my benefit. “But I know you enjoy the taste of it. You and your garlic everything.”
He grins at me and takes out another bottle.
“Do you mind if I get something together for them? I’d like to be a good host too.” I quickly add, “I know it’s not my house.”
It’s just, when we did have a house together, that was my job.
“I would be honored,” he says, coming over to kiss me on the head, then walking off with the wine, disappearing around the corner to the sitting room.
I stare at his ass for a moment, admiring it, then turn my attention back to food.
Vampires aren’t the healthiest of eaters so I’m assuming the carrot and celery sticks I have won’t fly.
Instead, I make a quick charcuterie board with some meats from a nearby butcher and a selection of cheeses.
I’m finishing with a touch of red pepper jelly and a dollop of antipasto when I hear the grand piano being played from the other room, a rich, sad song that immediately makes me feel emotional.
I smile to myself, hit with yet another warm memory. The way he would play piano in London each evening as I sat there with a hot cup of tea, the sound filling the house with beauty. He was so good at playing everything back then, and obviously over the years his skill has only improved.
I place the board on the counter and then go to the sitting room.
“That’s beautiful,” I say, leaning against the doorframe and watching as he plays, his long fingers moving masterfully across the keys. “Who is that by?”
“A Dutch composer,” he says, keeping his eyes closed as he plays. “Joep Beving. The song is called Etude.”
“Let me guess, you knew him way back in the day.” I don’t know how he’s been able to know everyone famous. I mean, I was alive in the 1880s too and I’m pretty sure Valtu is the most notorious person I know.
He smiles and glances at me. “I believe he was born in the 1970s. I don’t know him at all. You know, just because I was born three hundred years ago, doesn’t mean I don’t keep up with music from today. I know all the new composers, and I happen to hear the radio from time to time.”
I laugh at that. Valtu abhors the radio. If it’s ever on he’s quick to turn it off unless there is classical music playing.
Suddenly the doorbell sounds, a melodic but loud clang that makes my heart jump.
“They’re here early,” he says with a grin, getting up and strolling past me to the foyer. I stay behind him, always apprehensive about meeting new people but especially when they’re vampires.
He opens the door and I’m immediately met with a blast of dark, ancient energy, making my scalp prickle and my hair stand on end.
Before me stands Solon, the purveyor of this energy and one seriously handsome dude, even by vampire standards.
He’s tall, broad-shouldered and square-jawed with piercing blue eyes and chin-length black hair similar to Valtu’s, except his is straight and not wavy.
He’s dressed impeccably in a charcoal grey wool coat, black pants, sleek boots.
While his energy certainly brings this darkness and a sense of him being extremely old and almost sanctified, I don’t sense any evil in him.
In fact, he seems quite calm and thoughtful.
I look to his woman, expecting the same thing.
That’s not what I get.
She’s a witch.
This woman is a fucking witch !
I stare at her for a moment, absolutely dumbstruck.
A witch can always tell a witch, and that’s what this woman is.
She’s stunning, young, with long honey-colored hair, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, but she’s a witch.
Standing alongside her vampire lover. For one millisecond it gives me hope for me and Valtu.
Then she meets my eyes and though her eyes are hazel, the pupils in them momentarily flash red, her nostrils flaring.
And then I know that she’s not just a witch.
She’s a vampire, too.
Oh fuck.
And now she’s staring at me, puzzled, trying to figure me out, like she’s trying to see past my glamor and then I see the moment when she lifts the veil and sees me for who I truly am.
Her eyes go wide.
They go angry.
As I said, a witch always knows a witch. She can see the glamor coating me like a shimmering cloak, knows I’ve been hiding my true identity.
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Solon, this is my girlfriend Dahlia,” Valtu says, gesturing to me. If I wasn’t staring at the witch-vampire in horror, I probably would have felt giddy over him addressing me as his girlfriend for the first time, at least in this lifetime. “Dahlia, this is Solon.”
I shake Solon’s hand, looking at him momentarily, trying to smile even though I’m holding my breath thinking that this girl is going to say something.
“And this is Lenore,” Valtu says. “She’s a vampire and a witch. We try not to hold that against her.”
Lenore stares at me, then looks at Valtu, then back at me, probably trying to gauge if he knows the truth or not.
Finally she clears her throat, putting on a fake smile and says. “Pleasure to meet you, Dahlia.”
“Yeah, I’m just a human,” I say through an awkward laugh, hoping that Lenore takes the hint and doesn’t out me right now.
“That’s okay, we don’t bite,” Solon says, his accent lightly British. Then catches himself. “Well, we’ll try not to.”
“Come on in,” Valtu says, opening the door wider. Solon and Lenore walk past me and Lenore stares right into my very soul as she does, her eyes burning me from the inside out.
Oh god. I am so fucked!
I follow them inside and they go with Valtu to the kitchen and then out to the garden where Valtu has arranged the patio table and chairs in the sun. It’s warm at the moment, the chill being held at bay thanks to lack of wind, but it doesn’t really matter to them since they don’t get cold.
I pause in the kitchen, not sure what I’m supposed to do. I should pretend to be a good host and get the platter I prepared out to them but I’m terrified, so terrified that I can’t move, I just stand by the island and watch Lenore and Solon sit down.
Valtu comes back inside and gives me a quizzical look. “You alright, my dove? You look a little pale.”
I nod. “Uh huh. Guess that sickness I had from last night is coming back.”
He peers at me then walks over, taking his fingers and running them through my hair, disarmingly tender as he does so. “You’re nervous about meeting my friends,” he says softly as he stares down at me. “Or you’re anxious because I introduced you as my girlfriend.”
I manage a quick smile, suddenly aware of how little time I have before this all blows up in my face. “No. No I loved that.” I swallow. “But maybe I am a little nervous.”
“They’ll love you,” he says. “I know Solon can seem a bit stoic, but he’s the real deal. And Lenore, she was like you. Meaning a human. She didn’t even know she was witch or a vampire until she turned twenty-one. Her parents hid it from her. They were vampire slayers, can you imagine that?”
Oh god, it keeps getting worse! Of course she can tell what I am.
“That’s wild,” I say absently.
“Come along outside,” he says, guiding me toward the door until I’m outside on the patio, the sunshine bright in my eyes. Both Solon and Lenore have slipped sunglasses on their face.
I sit down across from them, trying to hide my galloping heart from them but of course they can hear it.