by J. J. McAvoy
Rising from the mattress, I quietly left the room, and then walked to my own, closing the door behind me. Gently, I sat on the bed, listening to see if he stirred, but he didn’t. I waited a few more minutes before reaching for my laptop, and the very first thing I did was search his name.
Theseus Christian Apollo de Thorbørn.
Nothing, how shocking. Trying just Theseus de Thorbørn, then Theseus Christian, and every other variation of his name, but still nothing came up. But the less I uncovered, the more interested I became. I found myself doing research into ninth century Greece. But then I found myself curious about his name. Thorbørn was not Greek; obviously, there was a story there. Maybe his new family name? Which made me wonder about his old family name.
I was so lost in the wonder that was Theseus Christian Apollo de Thorbørn and how the hell he’d ended up in my life that I barely noticed the time or the email alerts I had gotten. However, the moment I clicked on it, I wished I had stayed focus on Theseus.
It was so short and so polite it made me want to scream.
Wednesday, August 21st
Dear Ms. Monroe:
Thank you for taking the time to meet with our team about the role of Senior Associate Conservator of the Department of Art Restoration. Unfortunately, I must inform you that we have selected another candidate for the job. Please know this is not, in any way, a reflection of your current performance as Junior Conservator. You are an important and valued member of the National Gallery staff. The committee thanks you for the time you invested in applying for the position, and we encourage you to apply again in the future.
Best Regards,
Timothy Roads
Chair Committee, Department of Art Restoration.
I read it once. Then once again, and a third time as if I could will it to change by glaring at the screen. But that did nothing. Closing my laptop, I gently tossed it toward the end of my bed. Resting back against the oak headboard caused it to squeak out in protest, who knew how many other people had abused it before I’d bought it at a discount yard sale in Arlington.
“Squeaaak.” It went again as I leaned farther back, crossing my arms and trying not to look at the screen-printed painting of Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night on the top of my laptop. It was only when I remembered that it might bother Theseus that I sat up, listening for him again.
What is the matter with me? I asked for the millionth time. Why was I adjusting myself for him? I didn’t know him. I wasn’t his mate.
“Focus on work,” I muttered to myself.
I needed to just go to work, come back, ask him a few more questions, maybe help him on his way, and then I’d get back to my life.
Why didn’t I believe this would be that easy? I glanced over at my phone, which rested on the nightstand beside my bed. I watched the clock switch over from 6:59 to 7am, and then rose out of bed and headed to my closet. I tossed a few of my stained shirts into a duffle bag, and I thought about the clothes Theseus had brought back with him.
I needed to get rid of those. Where are the other black slacks? I skimmed over my bedroom before finding them in the corner by the window; the trim of the bottoms was covered in dirt and grass stains.
“I have nothing to wear.” That was a lie. I had clothes but nothing I could wear to work. Most of my work things were now in my duffle. I glanced back into my closest. The only thing I could manage was a dress. I used to love dresses; how could anyone not? It was so easy. Throw it on, and you had a complete outfit without much effort. Moving back, I took the knee-length, black sweater dress. It was going to be just cool enough that it wouldn’t look off, and it was too big in all the wrong places when I had first bought it, so I hoped as I slipped into it that it would do.
“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.” I wanted to groan when I stepped in front of the mirror. I looked better than an airbrushed supermodel; the dress fit every curve of my body. And if I were still human, I’d love it. I’d want to post a selfie and twirl around at how flawless my deep brown skin was, and how I had just the perfect breast and butt size. But I wasn’t a human anymore, and looking perfect was dangerous because it meant everybody would notice I was different.
Grabbing a light, over-sized cardigan, I draped it around myself before picking up my thick-rimmed, fake pair of red glasses to finish my “normal” costume. I grabbed my thick, curly hair and pulled it into a messy bun. Stepping into some flats, I picked up my bags and entered the living room.
I thought back to him and decided to leave my phone on the counter as well as some directions to use it.
Please don’t draw attention to yourself or my apartment.
I’ll be back soon.
Druella.
P.S. Think of a way to contact your family. They could be worried about you.
Now I felt very much like a mom, but I let it go, exiting my apartment. Besides, I needed to talk to someone other than him. And I only knew of one other vampire.
Hopefully, she wasn’t cranky today.
Chapter 5
I stepped into the dry cleaner on 3rd Street. She was cranky today.
“I see you more than I see my own family now, Dru,” Mrs. Ming grumbled. She sipped from her bendy straw, not bothering to even look at me. Instead, her old eyes were fixated on the Korean historical drama on the flat-screen television to the left above the entrance. One of the things no one ever warned you about when you became a vampire was the dry cleaning. Everyone knew about the blood, about the immortality, but the drying cleaning—that apparently missed the radars of Anne Rice, Bram Stoker, and Richelle Mead.
“That would be sad if you didn’t have all of eternity to see them.” I tossed my duffle bag of clothes—all of which were smeared with either paint, dirt, or blood—onto the counter.
She snorted as if that didn’t matter but rose from her chair. As she did, I heard her bones make a sick pop, something which would have been normal for anyone who looked her age—eighty-six. However, Lucy Ming was not eighty-six. She was actually over a hundred in vampire years with a heart-shaped face and small black eyes. Her white hair was short and smooth, each strand like the finest silk. It stopped right under her jaw, and she kept it in one of those 1930s, old Hollywood styles with the finger waves. She stood about 5’2”, which apparently made her feel gigantic, as she was 4’8” as a human. As I was 5’9”, it was laughable how anyone taught 5’2” was tall. Her scent was like a mixture of cherry blossoms and saltwater.
“You do know,” she spoke to me meeting my gaze. “A straw would help avoid these kinds of stains.”
And to prove her point, she took a long drag off her straw, pulling the red liquid inside her mouth. I swallowed my own thirst instinctually and smiled.
“True, but deer and elk blood apparently aren’t good enough to sell on the black market.” Those snobby dealers didn’t deal in animal blood; after all, who was going to buy something they could easily get at night behind their own house? “Besides, those straws are bad for the environment. Unlike humans, we should care about global warming.”
“Look at you referring to humans as separate from you. You’re finally growing up,” she said without any true praise in her voice, lifting the bag with ease with one hand and tossing it to the side.
“I try,” I said in the same flat tone.
“Really? So, when do you plan on trying to feed on humans again?” she shot back.
“So, that will be $12.99, right?” I avoided her question and reached inside the National Gallery of Art tote bag to pull out my wallet.
“$15,” she replied.
“$15?” I gasped in horror, holding my wallet to my almost-dead heart. “Since when? Last week it was $12.99!”
“And this week it’s $15. Why are you complaining? I thought you were getting a raise?” She typed on the touch screen cash register one finger at a time like she was too old to e
ven bother worrying about how the thing worked.
“I didn’t get it.” I frowned, trying not to think of that horrifying email.
“Maybe it’s a sign that you should move?” she questioned, and once again, I felt the universe working through her.
“Mrs. Ming,” I said in a softer, sweeter voice, leaning on the counter, pretending not to hear her question. “$15 is a bit steep. Is this how to treat a loyal customer?”
“The cost of hydrogen peroxide and stain remover has gone up. But you are free to try Daniel’s Dry Cleaning up the street or Zips on H Street if you think I’m being unfair.”
I frowned and pouted as I handed her my card. “Zips on H Street closed six months ago.”
She lifted her head just as the receipt printed out to give me a stern-old-grandma-type look, her small pink lips in a fine line. “Loyal, huh?”
“Yes! What? I just happened to be walking by and noticed. Am I not allowed to even look at other dry cleaners, anymore?” I grinned, signing the slip.
She gave me a look and pounded the keys of her machine with a little more vigor, making me laugh. Mrs. Ming had been the first vampire I’d met after I’d changed. She was feeding in the forest when she smelled blood…mine apparently, but by the time she came, she said I’d already been turned.
“Now that my dry cleaning is taken care of,” I said, crossing my arms. “Can you please tell me why the only three things you told me after my change were, don’t get caught by the humans, stay away from witches, and mating rituals?”
She didn’t even bother to look up. “What else was there to know?”
“I don’t know; how about Lesser and Noble bloods, witch blood that determines the difference, maybe having supernatural powers. You know…everything.”
That got her attention, and just like that, her old gaze was on mine. “Who told you this?”
I frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you chose to continue living amongst humans as if you were them. I didn’t even think you knew you were most likely a witch. It was irrelevant to your current life and mine. Now, who told you?” She pressed again without any emotion in her voice.
Her seriousness was now a bit strange. I wasn’t sure exactly how much to tell. “I met a vampire in the woods while hunting last night. He told me that he believed me to be his mate.”
Immediately she sniffed me, and I stepped back a bit. “That is the faint scent on you.” She spoke but mostly to herself. “You did not mate with him?”
“I don’t know him.”
“Hmm.” Was her reply.
“Hmm? Why hmm?” I asked.
“Where you listening when I told you about mating rituals?”
“Yes, you told me how it worked—”
“Not just how it worked but how it felt.” She cut in, and I thought back, but I couldn’t remember that part, making her point her finger at me annoyed. “See you were not paying attention!”
“In my defense, you told me a lot at one time!”
“You are such a child. I told you a lot, but apparently not enough.” She scoffed.
I was getting really tired of the mentions toward my age at this point. I was twenty-seven…well, eternally twenty-six. But still. I didn’t feel like a child. “Please explain, sensei.” I bowed to her.
“I’m Korean, not Japanese, Druella.”
“Mrs. Ming!” I tried not to whine at her stalling; that would just make her see me as more of a child. “What did I fail to listen to?”
“Everything I told you when I first met you were things that were essential to your survival. Exposing yourself to humans would bring elder Noble vampires down upon your head, and your punishment could be death. Exposure to witches, especially powerful covens, could bring certain death. And lastly, finding a mate…”
“Could also bring death?” I joked, but she wasn’t amused.
“It would prevent madness,” she said seriously. “Eternity is a long time, Dru, especially if you’re abandoned from the beginning. Our kind needs connection as much as witches need covens and the humans need their own families. Without any family, without a name, you are worse off than a Lesser blood. Vampires have been known to go mad with blood lust or rage. Some develop a thirst that never ends—there were wars that began because of them alone. Then there are some who begin to create massive families out of their loneliness that they can’t control, turning any and every one near them. They would suck whole towns dry. Mates provide mental stability, warmth. When you met yours, you will feel that calmness, you feel almost human. You can live beyond the call of blood.”
I couldn’t help but think about my time with Theseus. I was calm. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so many different emotions at once.
“Even today, you seem less tense and anxious.” That felt like a question. “Is he still with you?” There was the question.
“He’s sleeping in my apartment.”
“Sleeping?” She gasped. “He must be centuries old then. A Noble blood.”
I nodded.
“Well, isn’t this a happily ever after for you?” She chuckled to herself, lifting her drink and straw to her lips and sitting back down on her stool. “Congratulations, Dru, most people spend centuries searching.”
“When am I going to meet Mr. Ming?” I posed softly, not trying to step on her toes. But I knew he was around. I had felt his presence and sometimes saw an older man ironing in the back of the store. But when I came in, he usually left.
“I think I’ve talked to you enough today,” she shot back, looking to her screen, not answering.
I made a face. “Fine, let’s talk about me, again. Happily, ever afters don’t start at the introduction, Mrs. Ming. I can’t just—”
“For some vampires, they do. Why would you fight it? Who wants a complicated love story?” she asked and pointed the remote to the screen. “Do those people look happy to you?”
“And yet, you tune in every week,” I teased her.
She shrugged. “Heartbreak and complications are entertaining when they’re not happening to you. Stop thinking like a human, and just enjoy it. What is the worst that could happen?”
“He could be a vampire stalker I have to avoid forever,” I said for one.
“True, but then aren’t you the dumb one for letting him into your home?” she shot back.
Mrs. Ming one hundred. Druella Zero.
“Thank you, Mrs. Ming. Always a pleasure. I’ll be back on Friday,” I said. However, just as I opened the door to leave, I heard her.
“Bring your mate with you. Don’t overthink it. Again, eternity is a long time. You have no living family among the witches or humans. You have no connection to your maker. For all this time of loneliness, maybe the gods are giving you a break this once.”
I turned back to her, but she wasn’t looking at me. Instead, I nodded, knowing she would understand that it was to her, put in my earbuds, and walked to work. It was bizarre how she made it sound so easy. Just pick a guy, and stay beside him forever, so you don’t go insane from loneliness.
Was I just supposed to agree to the first guy that came along? I hadn’t even mentioned his memory loss.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Leave the vampires at home.
Keeping my head down, I avoided eye contact. I used to love the city because of how alive it felt. People were always up and running about, taking pictures in front of the monuments, laughing, eating. It never felt so big or overcrowded like New York. It just felt…right. Now, I felt like a shark trapped in a fish tank. A lot of books and movies made it seem like big cities were the perfect place for vampires to settle and live. But, maybe it was just me; it was actually hard. All the sounds, noises, and smells assaulted me at once, all on top of raging hunger. It didn’t really give a home-sweet-home type of feeling.
I still went to work because another thing no one ever warned you about when you became a vampire was money. If you were broke before you turned, you’d most likely be broke afterward. It took decades, sometimes even centuries, to build the type of wealth that let you lounge around surrounded by Baroque art in private mansions all over the world, drinking blood from crystal glasses.
Unlike Mr. I-have-estates-all-throughout-Europe.
Why was I thinking about him again?
“Is it snowing? It’s August!” A random woman gasped as they came out of the bakery.
Sure enough, I looked up to see the frozen crystal flowers falling toward the ground.
“Don’t just stop in the middle of the road.” Some man, dressed in a dark blue suit snapped at me, and I snarled my teeth. His eyes widened a bit, and I smelled fear as his heart began to pump faster.
What was I doing? “You’re right, sorry.” Quickly offering him a smile, he relaxed to the point where he blushed and had this stupid grin on his face.
“No, I’m- I’m sorry miss,” he stumbled, staring.
The smile of a vampire; it was a very dangerous thing.
Chapter 6
“Did someone rob the Louvre?” I gaped, staring wide-eyed at the sea of vintage gilded frames, which could have been art themselves and not just borders for the irreplaceable, precious seventeenth-century oil and acrylic paintings within them. They were spread all throughout our lab in the basement of the Nationally Gallery Museum.