Chapter 2 Rowan #2
But in the decades since he’d walked into the sun, I’d come to appreciate the unfettered affection my sire had had for me. I was never less than in his view, and if that was the case, why should I be less than in my own?
At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.
However, that was not the matter at hand. No, that was Celestia, and my gaze finally landed on her in a lounge area, posed like a masterpiece carved from alabaster.
Taking a deep breath—even though we vampires didn’t actually need to breathe; I just liked the habit—I strode forward, flowers still tucked behind my back.
“Rowan, what are you doing here? You never visit on a weeknight.”
As much as I didn’t want to halt on my path, I wasn’t one to ignore a friendly greeting, so I turned to see Orthallow leaning against a doorway to the dance floor, sipping from a wineglass filled with blood—courtesy of my connection, who made weekly deliveries to the coven on my behalf.
Orthallow was actually quite young for a vampire, barely forty, but he did have a serious nature to him that I appreciated.
“Tonight’s a special occasion,” I answered happily.
“Oh?” He simply raised an eyebrow. I’d long since grown accustomed to the micro-expressions the other coven members liked to use. I found it strange that they were so loath to use any of their facial muscles. It wasn’t like we could get wrinkles like humans, but to each their own.
“Yes. I’m here to ask Celestia out. On a date. Naturally.”
Orthallow didn’t say anything for a long, long moment. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” he said as he pushed himself off the wall.
“What was that?”
“You mentioned you fixed the organ here, right?”
“I did,” I said slowly. Although I had a naturally sunny disposition that was a bit antithetical to being a vampire, I wasn’t born yesterday.
In fact, I was born on August fifth, 1913, to be exact.
Orthallow, while being a generally amiable fellow, if not a bit taciturn, didn’t give one lick about instrumental restoration.
“Why don’t you tell me about that?”
Did he seem nervous? If vampires had beating hearts, I would just listen to the rate of that particular organ, but as it were, I had to rely on body language and tone alone, unless it was soon after a deep feed.
“Normally, I’d love to, but I’m afraid I have a mission tonight.”
“Of course, of course. But Celestia is in the middle of a conversation, so you’ve got time.”
He had a point. I didn’t want to be rude and interrupt her if she was discussing something important.
“I suppose that’s true. But do you really want to hear about material analysis and de-oxidization of ancient pipes?”
“I… uh, sure. That sounds fascinating. I’ve always been interested in, um…”
“Restoring instruments?” I supplied, keeping my tone earnest even though I was almost certain that something was going on. But I wanted to give my fellow vampire the benefit of the doubt.
“Well, I would say restoration in general. You know, not letting aspects of the past be forgotten.” While I could agree with it, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end when the man slung his arm over my shoulders and tried to guide me toward a different sitting area on the opposite side of the hall. Away from Celestia.
“Orthallow, I’m not an idiot,” I said, planting my feet firmly.
Was I enjoying the sudden curiosity in my passion?
Of course! But I wasn’t going to let some false flattery distract me from asking Celestia out.
I hadn’t been on a date since my sire passed, and I hadn’t had a romance since I’d turned.
The timing had never felt right, and it wasn’t like I had a bevy of suitors waiting in the wings.
In fact, the last person who had been interested in me was a warlock in the forties who was very heavy on the war part of that lock, which was why I was completely uninterested.
And I also might have had a hand in him being overthrown in his circle and excommunicated by his patron spirit, but that was a story for another time. I really didn’t like bullies.
“What do you mean?” he asked with a nervous chuckle that was out of place in his normally too-cool-for-school tone.
“I mean, if you have feelings for Celestia, that’s perfectly fine. But let’s address this as gentlemen rather than being petty about it. For all you know, she’ll reject me right off the bat.”
“You think— I don’t— It’s… God, fuck, Rowan, you can be so dense sometimes.”
That wasn’t nice. I affixed the man with a stern look and shrugged his arm off. I was a friendly chap, sure, but I wasn’t a fucking punching bag.
“Orthallow, I came here to have a lovely night. If your intention is to bring negativity into it, frankly I’m uninterested.”
“No, it’s not that, Rowan. It’s just… how can you not know?” His voice had dropped to a whisper and now I felt more confused than ever.
“Not know what?”
“That Celestia will never say yes to someone like you!”
“You don’t know th—”
“Yes, I do! She talks shit behind your back all the time, as does most of the coven. They only tolerate you because of your blood bank connection. I thought you knew and were just accepting it to get more work, but God, you really believe them.”
I stared at him, a cold, horribly familiar feeling spreading through my body.
“I…”
“I didn’t want to tell you this, because you’re nice and all, but how could you not know, man? You’ve gotta know that someone like Celestia would never intermingle with someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” I echoed faintly. So many insults and rejections played in my head over and over again. It was a tale as old as the day I was turned and yet somehow the dagger’s edge of those memories were just as sharp as ever.
“Come on, don’t make me spell it out. Between your, uh…” He gestured up and down like that explained everything, and sadly it did. I knew exactly what he meant. “And your personality, you’re never gonna fit in here with all these snobs.
“I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, and I’m sorry I didn’t, but you’re so damn cheery that it felt a bit like kicking a dog.
But I really can’t bear it if you go over there and get humiliated.
You don’t deserve that, Rowan. I know we’re not close, but please believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
I didn’t know what to say. How many times had I been through this exact same situation? And yet, it still stung so badly.
“All of this just because I’m albino?” I murmured. That didn’t even make sense! Vampires were so naturally pale that my lack of pigmentation should have been the epitome of our funky beauty standards. And yet…
“Well, the personality doesn’t help either.”
Right.
That.
Even if somehow the vampires were willing to look past my physical ‘flaws’, it was how I was as a person that was their issue.
I didn’t know why I’d never inherited the love of LARPing as a European aristocrat, but it wasn’t me.
Maybe it was because I was from a desert, or maybe there was just something inherently wrong with me.
Either way, it wasn’t changing tonight.
There was always the chance that Orthallow was lying, but as I began to put the pieces together in my head, I knew he wasn’t.
I didn’t get invited to things unless blood was needed, and not a single member of the coven had ever spent one-on-one time with me outside of that.
No visits for tea, no invitations to go listen to live music.
I suppose I’d been deluding myself when I’d told myself it was because I was so new—a form of mental protection when I was feeling increasingly isolated as the years marched on from Ibrahim’s departure.
“I appreciate the candor, Orthallow,” I managed to say, handing the large bouquet over to him. The hours I spent agonizing over an outfit and arrangement that would impress Celestia felt so stupid. What a waste. “I think I’m going to retire for a bit.”
“Look, Rowan, I’m sorry. You’re a good chap—”
I held my hand up. “With all due respect, you’re from New Jersey; there’s no way ‘chap’ is in your natural lexicon. Goodnight, Orthallow.”
“Good night. And I’m sorry, man.”
“Not sorry enough to correct any of them when they said these things, right?” I asked flatly.
Because yes, while I did truly appreciate him stopping me from making a fool of myself in front of everyone, there was still the issue that it had been five fucking years!
While that wasn’t a long time to vampires, it was long enough.
“No.”
“Right.”
I turned on my heel and headed out the door.
Thankfully, no one bothered me as I walked home, and it was dark enough that my relatively luminescent pallor didn’t stand out.
Normally, I wore makeup when going out among humans, so I wouldn’t draw attention to myself, but I’d wanted to ask Celestia out wholly as me.
No cover-up, no trying to fit in. Just unapologetically Rowan.
Turned out the whole Rowan part was the entire issue.
I sighed as I flopped into my overstuffed recliner, throwing the footrest up as I leaned back. It was nice being swallowed in the softness, but it wasn’t quite enough to settle the furor burning through my soul. Because we vampires did have those, even though the legends said we didn’t.
That gaping hole within me—the one my human family once occupied and then my sire, the one meant for fellowship and communion—radiated pain all the way out into my limbs.
It was agony, and it called upon the corrupted part of being a vampire that lingered in the very back of my head.
That wicked shadow of evil that only wanted to kill and feed until it drowned in blood.