Page 10 of Vacation with the Vampire
“No, but…ow… can you at least warn me?!” He continued with the grisly task as if we weren’t having a conversation, as if I wasn’t protesting. I stared in horror as he pulled a particularly pointy piece of rock from my skin. My knees had almost been more painful than my wrist; those abrasions were going to leave some scars.
“I did,” Raoul drawled casually. I looked away from my torn jeans and his far too elegant hands, my gaze locking on the healing crystal now perched on the edge of its box, waiting to be used. It was safer than watching what he was doing to my flesh, though no less painful.
“You said it would hurt, not that you were going to go full medieval surgeon on me,” I muttered. Despite my complaints, I held still. I might not have expected that crystal to work, but now I knew it did. This was necessary for the pain to end, and I’d rather not be laid up for my entire week in Paris because of this stupid misadventure.
My fingers dug into the cushions as he worked, carefully but efficiently removing the grit and small stones from the torn skin. It stung, burned, though not in the same way as the burning the crystal had caused on my wrist. All the while, I could feel him—our strange host—standing there, watching. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I was pretty sure that guy was dangerous, like a shark, or a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Finally, Raoul brought the lens back. The warmth returned, washing over the raw, aching skin. This time, I was ready for it. It still made me suck in a sharp breath as the pain dissolved, replaced by that same strange, impossible sensation of healing. When it faded, my knees were whole again; there wasn’t even a scar. In fact, an old scar from a tumble off my bike as a kid was also gone. I stared at the smooth, unblemished skin, for once completely speechless.
“Done,” Raoul said coolly, dropping the crystal back into its velvet-lined box with a muted thud. I looked up and drew in a sharp breath. His hands… they were covered in my blood. The sight hit me harder than it should have. It was very bright against his pale skin, smeared across his fingers.
Something flickered across his face, something I couldn’t quite read. Then he abruptly rose from the couch and turned away. “I will clean this,” he said curtly.
He crossed to a basin in the corner, dipping a cloth into the water and methodically wiping his hands. The movements were precise, controlled, but there was tension there now, something tighter than before. My stomach roiled as I considered why that tension might be, but I didn’t want to acknowledge the thought.
The silence was tense, laden, right until our host broke it with a voice like gravel. “You will explain,” he said. It was not a question but a command. I had nothing to explain, but I wanted to start spilling my guts in response anyway, it was that effective.
Raoul didn’t turn but continued to methodically wash his hands in what was by now pink water, even though they appeared clean. “There is little to explain,” he said coolly. “I woke, and that’s that.”
“There’s always more than that,” the other guy said, his tone slightly menacing. The silence stretched, and I shifted on the couch, suddenly very aware of how out of place I was in this room. Heck, in this entire situation.
Teebow’s gaze slid to me as if he sensed my unease, or perhaps simply because he knew I was part of the story Raoul wasn’t telling. I stiffened, my body breaking out in goosebumps, warning me that I’d just been sized up by a predator.
“Like her? Why did you bring her, Raoul?” My vampire didn’t answer that question, which was not comforting. I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I was the intruder here, not part of their strange, secret world; I should leave. That was the obvious answer. Get out of here right now, and find a normal street, a normal person, and a normal explanation for all of this.
Except… I looked at Raoul and noticed the rigid line of his shoulders as he stood at the basin. The way he didn’t quite relax and kept his gaze averted from our host. I recalled how he had moved in front of me without thinking, to shield me from the piercing glare his friend had aimed my way.
Something tugged at me then. It could have been many things: curiosity, maybe concern, or something else I didn’t want to name. He looked alone; the thought came out of nowhere, but it stuck. I spoke impulsively, without thinking things through, which was really par for the course for me. “Hey, um...”
Both of them looked at me, and I slunk back against the couch. Great, what had I done? It felt like I’d just interrupted two males, two lions, before they launched into a fight. Well, there was no backing out now.
I forced a small, awkward smile. “Thanks,” I said, gesturing vaguely at my knees and my wrist. “For the, uh… magical first aid. Really appreciate it.” Teebow inclined his head slightly, regally, though he hadn’t done anything beyond bringing Raoul the box. Raoul just watched me, his expression betraying nothing.
“Raoul and I should probably go. We’ve got places to be, right, Raoul?” I glanced at my vampire, silently hoping he’d play along, take the lifeline I was trying to offer him. Maybe I’d read the situation wrong, but I didn’t think so. Raoul wanted to avoid the questions.
When he inclined his head my way, it felt like he was both confirming my statement and acknowledging what I’d done. Then he looked at our host, his voice firm and confident when he spoke. “Susie is quite right; we must take our leave. I thank you for your hospitality, and the use of your healing crystal.”
Crossing the room, Raoul reached me, bent down at the waist, and offered me his hand. I took it slowly, ignoring the coldness coming from the direction of our host. The stone-cold stare wasterrifying, and Raoul’s hand was warm; it was safety. I took that hand and let him lead me from the room, down the stairs, and out of the bustling café below.
Chapter 6
Raoul
Leaving Thibault’s chambers felt like stepping out from beneath a blade. I did not rush; that would have been unseemly, but there was a distinct lightness to my movements once the door shut behind us. It felt as though some invisible pressure had eased from my shoulders. Thibault had always possessed a way of looking through a man rather than at him, of peeling back layers with quiet insistence.
It had been tolerable in the past. Back then, we’d been friends for so long that I knew exactly where he stood. Now? It felt like he was practically a stranger. Awakened too early, unsteady, starving, I felt extremely out of my element. Nothing had gone the way I’d planned, and I did not like that. Ihadprepared myself for great changes, but it was not the same as actually seeing them.
The stairwell ended by the kitchen we’d first arrived through, and for a moment I stood at the threshold of a café filled to the brim with humans. People of all shapes, ages, and ethnicities sat at small tables, sipping coffee with thick foam and eating delicate pastries and luxurious warm afternoon meals the likes of which I’d never even seen before. Somehow,thatI could handle, even if it felt wrong to see so many humans in Thibault’s place.
When Susie led the way, weaving through the tables to an open glass door, I held it together. It was once we hit the street that everything unraveled. I stopped dead at the threshold and gapedlike an uncouth lout. I was looking out onto what should have been a familiar street, but it was not familiar at all. This was not Paris.
The street stretched wide and bright beneath a sky far different from what I remembered, the air thick with unfamiliar scents. Some things I could identify: burning oil, metal, something acrid and artificial. Gone: the endless plumes of smoke from households all over the city and the scent of burning wood. Even more importantly, there was not so much as a hint of death and decay. The city seemed cleaner. The buildings stood where they ought to, and yet not as they had been. Restored, reshaped, altered in ways both subtle and grotesque.
Then there was the noise; it was deafening. A constant roar that seemed ceaseless, endless. A mechanical thunder that filled the air and pressed against the senses. I was dazzled by it, overwhelmed, and even more so by the source of that awful sound. Carriages—no, not carriages—but sleek metal beasts that hurtled past at impossible speed. These wagons had gleaming bodies, their motion too smooth, too fast. Yet, seemingly unconcerned, people moved along the sidewalks in dense currents. They were clothed in fabrics and styles that made even Susie seem almost conservative by comparison.
For a moment, I could not move. I, who had watched revolutions rise and fall without flinching, stood rooted like a novice newly turned.
“Hey,” her voice came to me in a soft, gentle coo. It jerked me back from a precipice I’d found myself tumbling off without warning. Her presence was grounding, real. Susie stepped closer, and she proved her kind heart by very gently, tentatively,but with quiet certainty, sliding her hand around my arm. “There you go,” she murmured, as if coaxing a startled animal. “Just keep moving. You’re gonna get run over if you stand there like that.”
