is where their similarities ended.”
In the wake of his speech, waves of silence pulse palpably through the room. Or maybe it just feels that way because my heart is slamming inside my ribs.
Did this guy know Vlad Dracula personally?
And is he trying to defend him?
Or condemn him?
Constantine is staring at the light fixture as though he expects the bat to rematerialize there. Or perhaps that’s just the direction his face is turned, and his thoughts are hundreds of years away.
I don’t even know what to say. Maybe Constantine really is a vampire. Maybe he is hundreds of years old.
Though I’m not sure I believe his wild identity claims, at the same time, I can’t deny he has strong feelings about Dracula’s family. Finally, I confess, “I still don’t understand where you fit into this picture.”
Abruptly, Constantine closes the book and stands. “It is getting late. You need your sleep. I have given you enough of an introduction. You have the information you need to make your decision. I will let you sleep on it.”
Desperation flashes through me. I want to hear more! I need to hear more. I’ve been searching for answers for so long, and now the answers are here, in my house, in that creepy skin-bound book I cannot read.
I stand as well, ready to ask him to stay a little longer.
The room shifts slightly, and I slap my palms against the table to steady myself.
It is late. Or perhaps more accurately, it’s early morning, and I haven’t slept yet. I’m already behind on sleep from dealing with the bats in recent nights, so my exhaustion has reached the point where I can’t ignore it any longer. Coffee or no coffee, Constantine is right. I need my sleep.
By focusing on each step, I’m able to walk steadily as I follow Constantine to the front door.
“I will call you tomorrow afternoon,” he promises. “Tomorrow the sun is supposed to shine, so I won’t be able to come over until the sun has gone down, but this time of year in Montana, that is before six o’clock.”
Right. The vampire thing. He’s still sticking to that story.
“I’ll keep my phone close so I don’t miss your call.” I hold the door open for him, then close and lock it once he’s gone out.
Then, tired though I am, I step sideways to the front window and peek out past the blinds.
Constantine is headed down the sidewalk in the same direction he went when he left to get the book. The street lights illumine his tall, broad-shouldered form. He steps behind a tree…and that’s the last I see of him.
There’s a patch of well-lit sidewalk on the other side of the tree, but he never emerges, no matter how many times I blink to clear my eyes.
He’s just gone.
Hmm…that vampire story of his?
Either there’s something to that, or he’s going out of his way to make me believe there is.
Chapter Six
The next day I’m crazy tired, and run home to grab a nap between classes, heading back to campus with the blackjack books in my backpack. After my last afternoon class, I retreat to a quiet corner of the library to find out how hard it’s going to be to hold up my end of the bargain.
Let’s not forget, I’m a student. I have a pretty light load this semester, since I’d strategically planned it so I’d already finish up most of my coursework prior to my final semester, leaving me time to focus on my thesis, but still. I have a lot of information I need to cram into my brain every day.
Information my grades depend on.
I don’t need to be taking away brain power learning something that has nothing to do with my degree.
Except if I don’t learn it, I won’t be able to hold up my side of the deal, and Constantine won’t translate any more of the book for me.
One thing’s for certain: the book is legit. I don’t really know Romanian, certainly not Old Romanian, but I recognized enough of the words to know that was the real thing. And Constantine read way too smoothly to be making it up as he went, never mind
In the wake of his speech, waves of silence pulse palpably through the room. Or maybe it just feels that way because my heart is slamming inside my ribs.
Did this guy know Vlad Dracula personally?
And is he trying to defend him?
Or condemn him?
Constantine is staring at the light fixture as though he expects the bat to rematerialize there. Or perhaps that’s just the direction his face is turned, and his thoughts are hundreds of years away.
I don’t even know what to say. Maybe Constantine really is a vampire. Maybe he is hundreds of years old.
Though I’m not sure I believe his wild identity claims, at the same time, I can’t deny he has strong feelings about Dracula’s family. Finally, I confess, “I still don’t understand where you fit into this picture.”
Abruptly, Constantine closes the book and stands. “It is getting late. You need your sleep. I have given you enough of an introduction. You have the information you need to make your decision. I will let you sleep on it.”
Desperation flashes through me. I want to hear more! I need to hear more. I’ve been searching for answers for so long, and now the answers are here, in my house, in that creepy skin-bound book I cannot read.
I stand as well, ready to ask him to stay a little longer.
The room shifts slightly, and I slap my palms against the table to steady myself.
It is late. Or perhaps more accurately, it’s early morning, and I haven’t slept yet. I’m already behind on sleep from dealing with the bats in recent nights, so my exhaustion has reached the point where I can’t ignore it any longer. Coffee or no coffee, Constantine is right. I need my sleep.
By focusing on each step, I’m able to walk steadily as I follow Constantine to the front door.
“I will call you tomorrow afternoon,” he promises. “Tomorrow the sun is supposed to shine, so I won’t be able to come over until the sun has gone down, but this time of year in Montana, that is before six o’clock.”
Right. The vampire thing. He’s still sticking to that story.
“I’ll keep my phone close so I don’t miss your call.” I hold the door open for him, then close and lock it once he’s gone out.
Then, tired though I am, I step sideways to the front window and peek out past the blinds.
Constantine is headed down the sidewalk in the same direction he went when he left to get the book. The street lights illumine his tall, broad-shouldered form. He steps behind a tree…and that’s the last I see of him.
There’s a patch of well-lit sidewalk on the other side of the tree, but he never emerges, no matter how many times I blink to clear my eyes.
He’s just gone.
Hmm…that vampire story of his?
Either there’s something to that, or he’s going out of his way to make me believe there is.
Chapter Six
The next day I’m crazy tired, and run home to grab a nap between classes, heading back to campus with the blackjack books in my backpack. After my last afternoon class, I retreat to a quiet corner of the library to find out how hard it’s going to be to hold up my end of the bargain.
Let’s not forget, I’m a student. I have a pretty light load this semester, since I’d strategically planned it so I’d already finish up most of my coursework prior to my final semester, leaving me time to focus on my thesis, but still. I have a lot of information I need to cram into my brain every day.
Information my grades depend on.
I don’t need to be taking away brain power learning something that has nothing to do with my degree.
Except if I don’t learn it, I won’t be able to hold up my side of the deal, and Constantine won’t translate any more of the book for me.
One thing’s for certain: the book is legit. I don’t really know Romanian, certainly not Old Romanian, but I recognized enough of the words to know that was the real thing. And Constantine read way too smoothly to be making it up as he went, never mind
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