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)
I leave the bedroom and head down the stairs. It’s drizzling outside, so we can’t enjoy our drinks in the garden, and Van Helsing has settled in the leather armchairs in the sitting room.
“So where is she now?” he asks.
“At her apartment,” I say, relaxing into the chair but keeping note of the time on the grandfather clock in the corner.
“So she doesn’t live here yet?”
“No, though she spends most of her time here.” Actually, Dahlia seems rather scared of her apartment. She doesn’t say that but when she’s talking about it, her heart begins to race and she looks unwell. I wonder if I am at fault for telling her that the area is haunted. She said she didn’t believe in ghosts but she probably didn’t believe in vampires then, either.
“It’s just rather curious, don’t you think?” he says after a sip. “Considering how when I was last here you told me that you were done with her.”
“I never said I was done with her,” I snipe at him. “I’m not that callous. I said I needed to end things for her sake.”
“And for your sake too, don’t forget.” The way the doctor lets those last words hang in the air makes me know he’s alluding to what happened with Lucy.
“Obviously my resolve is a lot weaker than I thought,” I comment bitterly, placing my drink down on the table and fiddling with my cufflinks. It’s an old tuxedo, complete with tails, though the cufflinks are new. Silver dahlias in bloom that I purchased from a trinket store just for this occasion.
“And so, have you had any contact with Saara and Aleksi?” he asks.
I originally invited Van Helsing out to Italy right after the night Bitrus and I went to Poveglia, when I drained that woman and murdered that man and they said I helped open a portal to Hell. I figured if Saara and Aleksi continued to be successful with that fabled book of theirs, then I was going to need more help. The two of them have Venice at their feet but with that book they could have the world. I also placed a call to my friend Absolon and his witchy vampire lover Lenore, but so far I haven’t had a response.
Regardless, I need to assemble friends of mine in one fashion or another, to put our heads together and plan. It’s totally possible that the two of them are full of shit and the faces in the water that Bitrus saw were just regular ghosts from the very haunted island, and that the masked plague doctors were just tall people in masks, and that the demons they talked about weren’t anything at all. In fact, I’m holding onto that being true.
But then you factor in the people who have started to go missing, the people turning up dead from extreme “accidents” and the fact that the whole city is on edge these days, and you really have to wonder.
It’s been enough, anyway, that I asked the doctor to stick around for a bit. He’s been gallivanting around Italy, staying relatively close, but decided to come in to the city for the recital.
Because Saara and Aleksi will be at the recital.
We try to make a point of not having too many vampires around humans at the same time because it tends to alarm them in a subconscious way, but I heard from Bitrus that they’ll be there because they obviously don’t give a fuck. Me bringing Van Helsing might add to the mix, but since there will be drinks and music and the world these days already feels like it’s holding its breath and waiting for something to happen, perhaps nothing will feel out of place.
It’s not long before we finish our martinis and it’s time to go. Not wanting to walk in the rain, I take my own boat and follow the canal behind my house as it leads to the Grand Canal and then down to the narrow slip of water that cuts in behind the conservatory.
There, someone takes my boat and ties it up (seems I wasn’t the only one who decided to arrive this way) and me and the doctor enter the building.
People are everywhere—teachers, students, friends, family, local musicians—dressed to the nines and gathered in various sections across the school, enjoying the prosecco the waiters are handing out until the recital starts and everyone will be called into the concert hall.
“Why don’t you help yourself to a drink,” I say, laying a hand on Van Helsing’s shoulder. “I’m going to go find Dahlia.”
I begin prowling around the first floor looking for her and when I don’t spot her anywhere, I go up to the second. There are few people grouped here and there, mainly ogling the paintings and sculptures that are strewn about the school, but I don’t see Dahlia.