Chapter 12 Diantha #2
Realistically, I know that tucked behind the thickets of red maples and sweetgum trees are only palatial farmhouses.
I know I’m not really in the middle of nowhere—I’m a few miles outside of Echidna, tucked into a bucolic corner of suburbia.
But every branch that grazes my windshield and rock that crunches under my tires makes me jump.
The Collegiate Inn is an eighteenth-century farmhouse at the end of a steep driveway.
I follow Orfeo’s instructions to stay on the gravel path, circle around the house, and continue on through the trees until I reach the carriage house—a much smaller and more modern-looking cabin at the center of a clearing that gives me grade-A heebie-jeebies.
The windows are aglow with warm mood lighting, and there’s even a little curl of smoke drifting up from the chimney.
I park beside a motorcycle wrapped in tarp and make my way to Orfeo’s front door, unsure whether I should pick up my pace so I can get inside ASAP or bolt back to my car and drive until I hit the Queensboro bridge.
You’re safe, I remind myself. You’re fine. You trust him.
I lift a hand and knock.
And then, I knock again.
By the third time I knock, my teeth are chattering and I can feel the sensation fading from my toes.
Finally, the door swings open, and there Orfeo is, in nothing more than a pair of black trousers clinging for their life to his waist.
He has a belly button, I think. Do all vampires have belly buttons? It’s a nice shape surrounded by a well-groomed path of dark curly hair that disappears into the elastic band of his boxers. His hair is still a little wet, combed back away from his square forehead in tight waves.
He clears his throat and I snap my eyes up. “Uh, hi.”
“Hello.” He stares at me. “You are on time.”
I stare back. “Uh, you said not to be late.”
“Vabbè, of course. I meant, like, don’t be super late.” He looks at his wristwatch. “It’s exactly seven o’clock.”
“Do you want me to leave?” I snap, embarrassment creeping up my neck and threatening to swallow me whole. If I were an anime character, I’d have an enormous sweat bubble dangling over my left eye. “Do you want me to sit in my car until seven-fifteen? Will that make you feel better?”
“No, no.” He steps aside and sweeps his arm toward the inside of his place. But I don’t move. “Please. Enter.”
He’s so casual. About everything. About saving me from whatever happened on Monday; about kissing me on my bed; about inviting me to his house.
Of course he is. He’s been alive for seventy-some odd years and has spent most of them as a beautiful twenty-eight-year-old man. He could juggle fifty Dianthas blindfolded and with one of his stupid bulging arms tied behind his back.
Don’t imagine his arms tied behind his back.
I’ve made myself way too easy for him. I let him work his gorgeous vampire magic on me. Let those lips trick me into coming here tonight, to do god knows what. Lonely idiot, I think.
“Dai.” His features twist into a look of…of pity? “Don’t tell me you’re upset. It was just an observation.”
“I’m not upset,” I huff and slip past him. “See, I’m inside. Happy now?”
“Of course I am. I am a happy guy,” Orfeo bites back.
Good to know we’re both on our best behavior tonight.
The door clicks shut behind me and wow, have I been led astray. The carriage house’s humble exterior has to be some sort of enchantment, because this place is nice as fuck.
In front of me is an expansive, tastefully decorated living room that opens up into a shiny chrome kitchen with the type of sparkling countertops that let me know Orfeo definitely isn’t making aglio e olio every night.
It’s all a little too Pier 1 Imports for my personal taste, but definitely still nicer than my Kuromi sheets and linoleum-lined cabinets.
Across the room is a spiral staircase that leads to a lofted bedroom.
From the first floor, I can just make out the hospital corners of his big-ass bed.
Why did Leo make it seem like Orfeo was living out of a duffle bag at a roach motel?
All I see are gleaming hardwood floors, a limestone fireplace, and a mattress that looks like it could actually heal me.
“Welcome to my home. I would give you the tour, but there is not much to see.” Orfeo breezes past me and I wait until he’s at a tasteful distance before I roll my eyes.
He opens a cabinet and, without completing movements my mostly human eyes can catch, he procures a wineglass. “White or red?”
“Uhhh…”
Before I can reply, he’s in front of me with a healthy pour of a wine that’s almost a golden color. “White, I think. Something smooth and dry. This is a vermentino.”
I accept the stem from between his fingers and he relieves me of my garment bag. Then, he trains his gaze on me. “Sip.”
“Um, okay.” I run my tongue over my bottom lip. “You’re not trying to poison me or something, are you?”
Now he looks offended. “Do you really think I need poison to have my way with you, Diantha? Please. I am a monster, for god’s sake. I would use my natural abilities first.”
“Okay, Nosferatu. Jeez.” He keeps his eyes fixed on mine as I lift the glass to my lips. “Cheers,” I snark.
I’m not sure what I expect, but it’s not this.
The wine slips over my tongue and slides down my throat without any burn or punch.
It’s a wash of citrus fruit followed by almond flowers and delicious earthiness, like a perfect olive oil.
There’s no migraine-inducing sweetness or acidic floral aftertaste that stings my nose.
It’s exactly like Orfeo said—smooth, dry, and delicious.
“Wow.”
That broody, saturnine look in his eyes clears in an instant and he smiles. His fangs are slightly extended right now, and I wonder if my pleasure has excited him.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
“It’s incredible,” I say with a laugh. “Poisoned or not, I could drink the whole bottle.”
Pleased, Orfeo waves me over to the plush couches arranged around the fireplace. “Not yet. I need you of sound mind and body tonight. Like I said, this idea I have is very dangerous.”
I know I should feel anxious, but that seems to be physically impossible when I’m around this damned man. Or, I guess, vampire. Italian vampire? I slug down more wine.
“Okay.” I sit across from him, crossing my legs. He snaps his fingers and the fire dims. “What’s the plan?”
“Tonight, I’m going to take you into Hades House.”
“What?” I snort out a laugh. “You’re taking me where?”
“There’s a private event tonight and Alfo, my boss, has limited the number of vampires he’s allowing in, especially after…” He waves his hand through the air. “I know this sounds crazy, but—”
“I thought you told me I needed to do everything in my power to stay away from Hades House? Now you’re leading me directly into the lion’s den?”
“I know.” He pinches at the skin between his eyes.
“Believe me, I know. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt—and I promise you, it will be over my soulless body that they put even a finger on you. But I cannot tell you any more information. I’m sorry.
You just have to…” He lets out a humorless snort. “You have to trust a fucking vampire.”
I swallow against the lump in my throat.
I know it’s the fear trying to find purchase inside of my body, but this close to Orfeo, my anxiety is dulled down to little more than an irritating ache in my chest. “I’ve had to trust you before.
” I shake my head. “When you pulled me into that alley and brought me home. And when you said you wouldn’t hurt me… ”
Orfeo stands and opens a window before extracting a cigarette from the case in his back pocket. “I wish this wasn’t the solution. I wish I could tell you more, but demons—even half-demons—are violent and volatile and what they are lacking in brains, they make up for in a keen sense of smell.”
“Smell? Their special power is that they smell good?”
Instantly, his cigarette is lit and Orfeo’s expelling an angry plume of smoke from his nose.
“You laugh, but that’s exactly right. They can smell pleasure, fear, lies.
And once they have that information, they can sneak into your mind.
Gain control of you. Annex your soul.” He takes another inhale, his features hardening as he keeps his eyes trained on the solid black night.
“That woman you saw being attacked the other night? Her name is Kat. She and her sister got caught up in our world when they were young—too young. They wanted to have an adventure. They liked the taste of danger.” Orfeo shakes his head.
“Her sister quickly became the favorite of a terrible, ancient vampire from Oslo. They said he was once Viking royalty. Probably bullshit. He just seemed like some raver thug from the Lower East Side.” Orfeo ashes his cigarette, pausing to wet his lips and, it would seem, keep his emotions at bay.
Maybe it’s the wine or the winter air, but I swear I see a glisten in his eyes.
“That horrible creature murdered her sister. In front of Kat, no less. The memory haunted her—almost drove her insane. She was abusing drugs, contemplating taking her own life…so she asked Alfo to wipe her memory. In return, she agreed to be a living donor at one of his clubs for as long as he needs.”
“Living donor?” I ask, my voice small.
“She lets us feed on her.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. He looks so human right now. Young and sad and lost. I want to cross the room and wrap my arms around him. “She lets us, and that is important to me.”