Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
He blinks at me, seemingly taken aback. “You got all that? No, no, I thought I saw someone I knew. Someone I don’t like, but someone all the same.”
Would a normal person press him at this point? Or would they let it go?
I decide to let it go and just give him an understanding smile, while he tries to compose himself back into the assured creature he is most of the time.
“Anyway,” he says, clearing his throat. “Here we are.”
We’ve ended up at a bar that has small tables lined up along the canal. Even though I don’t feel a hundred percent secure considering the weird thing we saw in the water, plus the demon on my ceiling, which are probably the same thing, it’s pretty romantic.
I quickly use the washroom inside the restaurant’s main building and when I come out, Valtu has procured a shawl from the restaurant and slips it over my shoulders like a gentleman as he pulls out my chair for me. The negronis are already on the table and the waiter comes out and takes our order, Valtu getting us a plate of fried squash blossoms stuffed with goat cheese.
“Really, you don’t have to buy me food,” I tell him, gathering the shawl closer to my body. Now that the adrenaline of earlier is wearing off, the cold damp air is more noticeable.
“What if I’m hungry?” he asks. “Besides, I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything if you’ve been feeling sick and sleeping in your clothes. How is the shawl?”
“It’s warm, thank you,” I tell him. I look around us, at the mist coming over the canal. It’s spooky and ominous, despite a teenager cruising past on his boat, playing hip hop from the speakers. “Fall came on pretty quickly,” I add, taking a sip of my drink. It’s sweet, bitter and strong, hitting my taste buds in a way that makes me feel bold. I’ve needed this badly.
When he doesn’t say anything to that, I look at him. He’s sitting back in his chair and quietly observing me as I drink. In his navy Henley shirt that shows off his shoulders and muscular arms, and with the slightly seductive look in his dark eyes, I can pretend for a moment that I actually am on a date with a guy. Like a normal guy. Not a vampire I’m eventually supposed to kill, but some hot as fuck guy on vacation in Italy and I’m just a fellow traveler, looking for a night of romance and sex.
“Yes,” Valtu says in a low voice, clearing his throat. “Autumn falls quickly here. Like a guillotine, overnight.” He pauses, licking his lips and I find myself staring at his mouth. “What is it like back at home for you? I imagine it must feel the same in the Pacific Northwest.”
“It happens a lot earlier. Usually the Labour Day weekend is the signal of the end of summer and start of fall. The rains come and they don’t stop.”
“Do your parents still live there?”
“My parents are dead,” I say too bluntly.
He blinks. “Oh. Fuck. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
Must be strange to be someone who will never die, to hear about the dead. They must feel a type of pity for us mortals.
I lift my shoulder in a weak shrug. I never know what to say. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”
“How old were you when they died?” he asks.
“Ten,” I say, looking away. I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to feel it, not the anger and rage that comes so quickly, sweeps through me like a brushfire. The fact that it was vampires, like himself, that murdered them, makes this all the more complicated.
“Jesus,” he swears under his breath. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.” I can tell by the look on his face that he wants to ask me how they died. People always want to ask and often do.
But he doesn’t. Instead he says, “That must have changed you in so many ways.”
It’s a surprising thing to say because it definitely did change me. It just feels like no one has ever noticed or acknowledged that. The only people who ever would have noticed, who would have paid attention, were my parents. I nod and take a bigger sip of my drink. “I think I’m going to need another one after this.” I tap the side of my glass as I put it back down.
“I don’t blame you. I’m sorry for the conversation going into an unhappy topic,” he says. He looks to the kitchen which seems very busy yet somehow the waiter comes straight out and over to us. No doubt I just watched Valtu compel him.
“How are we doing?” the waiter asks in English, suddenly extra attentive. “Need another drink? Your food is coming shortly, so sorry for the wait.”