Vampire Kisses(29)

I gently rapped the serpent knocker.

The huge door slowly opened and Creepy Man greeted me with his crackly smile.

“So glad you could come,” he said in his thick European accent, straight out of a black-and-white horror flick. “May I take your coat?”

He took my leather jacket somewhere.

I stood in the hallway, peering for signs of anything that seemed threatening. Where was my dinner partner anyway?

“Alexander will be joining you in a few minutes,” Creepy said, returning. “Would you like to sit in the drawing room until he comes down?”

“Sure,” I agreed, and was led to a huge room next to the living room. It was decorated simply with two scarlet Victorian chairs and a chaise longue. The only thing that didn’t look dusty and old was the baby grand piano in the corner. Creepy Man left again and I took the opportunity to snoop around. There were leather-bound books in some foreign language, dusty music scores, and old crinkly maps, and this wasn’t even their library.

I caressed the smooth oak desk. What secrets lay inside its drawers? Then I felt that same unseen presence I had felt the last time I visited the Mansion. Alexander had come into the room.

He stood, mysteriously handsome. His hair was sleek and he wore a silk black shirt hanging over black jeans. I was anxious to see if he was wearing the spider ring, but he held his hands behind his back.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I was waiting for the baby-sitter,” I confessed.

“You have a baby?”

“No, a brother!”

“Right,” he said with an awkward laugh, his pale face coming to life. He was even more handsome than Trevor but didn’t come off as self-assured, more like a wounded bird that needed to be held. As if he’d been living in a dungeon all his life and this was the first time he’d seen another human. He seemed uncomfortable with conversation and chose his words carefully, as if once spoken he might never get them back.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he began. “I was getting you these.” And he timidly held out five wildflowers.

Flowers? No way!

“Those are for me?” I was completely overwhelmed. It was like everything moved in slow motion. I took the flowers from him, softly touching his hands in the process. The spider ring caught my eye.

“I’ve never gotten flowers before. They’re the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen.”

“You must have a hundred boyfriends,” he said, glancing down at his boots. “I can’t believe they’ve never given you flowers.”

“When I turned thirteen my grandmother sent me a bouquet of tulips in a plastic yellow pot.” As dumb as it sounded, it was better than saying, “I’ve never gotten flowers from my hundred boyfriends, because I’ve never had one boyfriend!”

“Flowers from grandmothers are very special,” he replied strangely.

“But why five?”

“One for every time I saw you.”

“I had nothing to do with the spray paint—”

Creepy Man appeared. “Dinner is ready. Shall I put those in some water, miss?”

“Please,” I said, though I didn’t want to part with them.

“Thank you, Jameson,” Alexander said.

Alexander waited for me to exit the room first, straight out of a Cary Grant movie, but I was unsure which way to go.

“I thought you’d know the way,” he teased. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure, anything.” Wait a minute—anything? So I said, “Actually, water will be great!”

He returned a moment later with two crystal goblets. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I’m always hungry,” I flirted. “And you?”

“Rarely hungry,” he said. “But always thirsty!”

He led me into the candlelit dining room, dominated by a long uncovered oak table set with ceramic plates and silver utensils. He pulled out my chair, then sat a million miles away at the other end of the table. The five wildflowers stood in a crystal vase blocking my view.

Creepy Man—I mean, Jameson—wheeled in a creaky cart and presented me with a basket of steamy rolls. He returned with crystal bowls filled with a greenish soup. Considering the number of courses, the slowness of Jameson’s service and the length of the table, we were guaranteed to be here for months. But I didn’t care, I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

“It’s Hungarian goulash,” Alexander stated as I nervously stirred the pasty soup. I had no idea what—or who—was in it, and as Alexander and Jameson waited for my reaction, I realized I’d have to taste it.

“Yum!” I exclaimed, slurping down half a spoonful. It was way more delicious than any soup I’d ever eaten from a can, but one hundred times as spicy!