Beams of morning light drift through the windows of the library as I pass, sending a sharp pain through my temples. My pulse hammers, and my entire body aches. I squint, wanting to avoid that room for the first time since coming here.
My nerves got the better of me last night. It was foolish to drink so much. I have only had the occasional glass of wine or mead in town with Xander. But it was never anything as delicious as what Alaric served last night. It tasted like sun ripened, sweet berries.
Who knew drinking wo uld lead to fitful bouts of nightmares?
I still can’t shake the chill lingering from that dream. It had seemed so real. I can still hear the demon hissing—still feel their words slide over my skin.
I shudder thinking about the demon that haunted me throughout the night, lurking in the shadows as I tried to sleep.
Meandering my way through the manor to the dining area, I look forward to a nice, hot cup of tea to clear my head. Thoughts of monsters and demons can wait for another time.
The softest sound of breathing seems to follow behind me. A chill skitters down my spine.
I spin around to face a silent and empty hallway. Nothing is out of place, nothing moving. The windows are closed off to the cold morning air as winter creeps its way into being.
I scoff at myself. It is nothing more than my sleep deprived mind and remnants of nightmares playing tricks on me.
When I finally make it to the dining room, I find the table empty. Not that I can stomach eating, but I’ve grown accustomed to finding large breakfasts laid out. I walk in and take a seat at my usual spot, too drained to go back to my room.
I lick my parched lips. The only thing I crave is a large glass of water before I go any farther.
Flittering leather wings swoop through the room and Cherno lands on the table several feet in front of me. I don’t have the energy to be bothered by those tiny feet on the table.
The pounding in my head intensifies. I bury my face in my hands—a poor attempt at escaping the relentless pain.
The serving cart bumps against the door as it pushes it open, rattling the dishes on top, sending a pain like several hundred needles prodding at my brain.
I wince at every sound Mrs. Westfield makes as she sets a cup in front of me, then pours tea. Then a plate piled with food—the scent which would usually make my mouth water now churns my stomach.
She leaves without so much as a single word or glance in my direction.
Pushing the plate away, I wrap my hands around the hot cup and let the heat seep into my chilled fingers. I take a sip and the warmth fills my belly, spreading throughout my body.
Cherno stares at me with those large brown eyes that almost seem to glow a soft red in the dim light. For a second, I wonder if I am still drunk because it looks as though Cherno is smiling at me.
That’s silly—bats don’t smile.
But, with that expression, those large, pointed ears, there's nothing threatening about this little beastie.
“You know,” I mutter more to myself. “You’re kind of cute.”
Cherno squeaks and shuffles within reach.
Alaric adores this tiny creature… I saw it clearly in his face when I had called Cherno “that.” It is a strange choice for a pet.
I suck in a breath and slowly reach out my hand, hovering over Cherno’s tiny head. Then when the creature doesn’t move, I stroke its head right between the two large ears. The simple gesture is almost enough to make the pounding in my head abate.
“Good morning,” I say.
Cherno squeaks twice, but the third sounds like my name.
“You can understand me?” I ask, then I freeze. The absurdity of the question is glossed over as my brain catches up. I pull my hand back. “Did you just speak?”
Cherno blinks once, twice, those large eyes seemingly getting bigger. Then a small and quiet voice answers, “Yes.”
I straighten my back and clasp my hands together in my lap. There’s a long silence. I have so many questions, but all words seem to have evanesced from my mind.
Cherno inches forward, head canted to the side.
“H-how is that possible? You’re a bat.”
Cherno’s expression falls, then lets out a single squeak followed by, “Not a bat.”
I take a breath in then let it out slowly. Then again. My thoughts are racing, and over everything, the word impossible screams the loudest.
Animals don’t talk. This creature—this bat—is not an animal… but if Cherno isn’t an animal… then what?
Trying to keep my hands from shaking, I place my palms flat on the table and lean in, bringing my face level with Cherno.
“What are you, if not an animal? I thought you were a vampire’s strange pet…”
Cherno’s eyes flash red.
Those eyes are not brown but… a deep, deep red. The pieces click into place. Cherno is a demon.
I swallow thickly.
Demons and saints, Cherno is a fucking demon.
Is that what Alaric meant by demon cursed? Is this small, unassuming creature his master? Are they holding Alaric prisoner?
It certainly never came across as such. There must be more to this… then again, it could be a figure of speech.
I don’t get the chance to ask.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Lawrence croons from the doorway. “Just the human I was hoping to run into.”
Why would he be looking for me?
My blood runs cold. Lawrence saunters around the table, taking a seat across from me.
His blond hair is tousled, the collar of his shirt is undone in a way that would be nearly indecent if he were human. He wears a deep green vest with a black brocade pattern—the same one he had worn last night. He looks like he just stumbled out of bed after barely sleeping.
“Are you going to drink that?” He nods toward my teacup but doesn’t wait for an answer before he snatches it and drinks the remainder in a single gulp.
I narrow my eyes. “No, please, help yourself to my tea. There is a world-wide shortage and I would hate to drink it all,” I say flatly.
Lawrence chuckles.
I open my mouth to make another cutting remark, but barely stifle a scream as a small white and pink face with whiskers pokes out from inside his collar.
The rat sniffs the air then scurries down his arm to the table and over to where Cherno sits.
Demons and saints. What is wrong with vampires that they have such… creepy little pets?
But I suppose they aren’t actually pets. I don’t know if I should find that comforting or disconcerting.
The two demons sniff each other, Cherno speaks words, the rat only squeaks, but they don’t seem to have any trouble understanding each other.
Lawrence runs a finger along the brim of the teacup and studies me. I resist the urge to squirm in my chair.
His attention is finally pulled away when Mr. Steward comes in with a goblet on a silver tray. Blood, if the red around the vampire’s irises slowly swallowing up the hazel is any indication.
Once we are alone again, Lawrence looks from the cup to me, then back. “This will never be as good as it is fresh from the source.”
I grip the sides of my chair until my fingers ache.
He sniffs at the blood and throws back his head, swallowing the contents in a single gulp. His eyes open slowly, and he gives me a wicked grin, his blood-stained fangs on display.
“Do not worry yourself, Lady Clara. I will not bite you. After all, you are marked by Alaric,” he says.