Chapter 25: 25
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A tall butler approaches, holding out a gloved hand for the key, beckoning with his fingers.
"Room 7," he muses as his piercing eyes flash, holding up the inscription to the light. The lion head glimmers coldly. "Turn right from the entrance and keep going down the hall, it's right at the end," he tells me, nodding his head with a half smile. He doesn't mention at the blood coating my dress, or the crimson stains on my cheek- perhaps he is used to seeing it. I think maybe he doesn't care. Either way I return his nod with a dizzy smile as he snaps his fingers and our cargo disappears.
I look back at the palace, the white walls still glowing like beacons, dwindling pale figures flitting in and out, their eyes shifting, hungry. They can sense the blood, I know they can. You can see it in the way they linger around, keeping their distance, sniffing the air and stalking on long legs like a tiger on a carcass. Some of them can't help themselves but draw closer, snake-like and sly, their eyes shifting from red, to black, to red again. But something keeps them off me, a scent that is not my own. So they stay and eye me warily, wondering if they might strike, and what would become of them if they do.
I am not eager to go back so soon, and even less eager to stumble across the strange white haired vampire who seemed more than adamant to have his fun with me. But the look Ithuriel gives me tells me I have no other choice. Nervously, I swallow my fear, and start walking.
***
The lion headed door knob stares at me as I fit the matching key into the lock, twisting slowly only to be rewarded with a satisfying 'click'. The door swings open at my touch, and Ithuriel shoots in through the widening crack, paws thumping on the shiny wood. I waste no time in joining him, shuffling through and locking the door behind me, leaving the key in the lock. Just in case I ever needed to get out quickly, I think darkly to myself.
The room is dim, much like the rest of the palace, so much so that my eyes struggle to make out the objects at each end of the room. Everything seems to be surrounded by an ominous mist, or perhaps a dusty fog, so that if you reach your hand out a little way into the room, you'd be left not quite sure if it is even there at all. I blow out a breath.
"Lux," I command, lifting my fingertips towards the ceiling as little rays of light shoot from my hand, shifting and moulding in on itself to form round, glowing orbs that banish the shadows from the room. The thick, foggy atmosphere lifts, leaving in its place an unpleasant dampness that clings to my lungs. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Better. The room- or what I thought was one room, actually consists of three separate rooms, like a miniature version of a house, not small enough to be cramped, but just big enough to be comfy. The main room we stand in is piled high with our boxes which are stacked in one corner, swaying slightly as they loom menacingly over us. They wobble, teetering on an invisible axis, as though some gnome had decided to rock them around, jumping from box to box with clunky feet. Just thinking about the unpacking we have to do makes me feel exhausted. There is a small coffee table at the centre of the room, surrounded by two deep brown armchairs. I wonder at the faint skid marks on the floor, thinking that perhaps some vampire had not been happy with them once upon a time. For a while I stare, my head foggy with a vision of an immortal bloodsucker ordering an elf to put them 'here, no there' and smile pleasantly to myself. My eyes linger to the deep red wallpaper, painted with small white flowers, like speckles of snow. It's cracking in places, and only serves to remind me that this room is probably just as old as many of the vampires who live here. Perhaps even older. I grimace at the thought, suddenly feeling very small.
There are a few empty shelves and cabinets, slightly dusty but not altogether shabby, illuminated by the small chandelier that sways wearily on its hinges, a poor imitation of the ones found in the throne room. Yet the cabinets serve very little interest to me and I find my feet moving from under me before I even realise what I am doing. Yawning, I peer into the adjacent rooms, a bedroom and a bathroom, both equally sized and similarly decorated to the main room, save from the presence of large picture frames and golden rimmed mirrors. Rubbing my eyes, I make a mental decision to actually get some sleep tonight. Vampires may be immortal creatures of the night, but I am not. I feel my feet dragging over to the four poster bed, half aware of my actions, and flop down onto the furs, my cheek sinking into the warmth.
"So are you going to tell me why you are covered in blood?" comes Ithuriel's voice from the bathroom. The hot, gushing sound of warm water hits my ears and the clink of him putting down what must be his ring on the side of a sink rings in the opposite room. I don't recall him going in there, but part of me is so tired I doubt I would even notice a vampire sat right in front of me. Groaning, I turn over.
"Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to be transformed in the castle?" I call back, wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve. The smell of dried blood catches in my nose, bitter and irony. I grimace. There is no way I am going around in these clothes. Reluctantly I get to my feet and stumble into the living room, hands outstretched like a zombie as I make my way to the pull out the biggest case from the pile. I desperately hope it's one which contains some clothes, too tired to go tearing through each box in turn.. Edging it out of the swaying towers of boxes like a giant game of jenga, I tug it from the pile.
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A tall butler approaches, holding out a gloved hand for the key, beckoning with his fingers.
"Room 7," he muses as his piercing eyes flash, holding up the inscription to the light. The lion head glimmers coldly. "Turn right from the entrance and keep going down the hall, it's right at the end," he tells me, nodding his head with a half smile. He doesn't mention at the blood coating my dress, or the crimson stains on my cheek- perhaps he is used to seeing it. I think maybe he doesn't care. Either way I return his nod with a dizzy smile as he snaps his fingers and our cargo disappears.
I look back at the palace, the white walls still glowing like beacons, dwindling pale figures flitting in and out, their eyes shifting, hungry. They can sense the blood, I know they can. You can see it in the way they linger around, keeping their distance, sniffing the air and stalking on long legs like a tiger on a carcass. Some of them can't help themselves but draw closer, snake-like and sly, their eyes shifting from red, to black, to red again. But something keeps them off me, a scent that is not my own. So they stay and eye me warily, wondering if they might strike, and what would become of them if they do.
I am not eager to go back so soon, and even less eager to stumble across the strange white haired vampire who seemed more than adamant to have his fun with me. But the look Ithuriel gives me tells me I have no other choice. Nervously, I swallow my fear, and start walking.
***
The lion headed door knob stares at me as I fit the matching key into the lock, twisting slowly only to be rewarded with a satisfying 'click'. The door swings open at my touch, and Ithuriel shoots in through the widening crack, paws thumping on the shiny wood. I waste no time in joining him, shuffling through and locking the door behind me, leaving the key in the lock. Just in case I ever needed to get out quickly, I think darkly to myself.
The room is dim, much like the rest of the palace, so much so that my eyes struggle to make out the objects at each end of the room. Everything seems to be surrounded by an ominous mist, or perhaps a dusty fog, so that if you reach your hand out a little way into the room, you'd be left not quite sure if it is even there at all. I blow out a breath.
"Lux," I command, lifting my fingertips towards the ceiling as little rays of light shoot from my hand, shifting and moulding in on itself to form round, glowing orbs that banish the shadows from the room. The thick, foggy atmosphere lifts, leaving in its place an unpleasant dampness that clings to my lungs. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Better. The room- or what I thought was one room, actually consists of three separate rooms, like a miniature version of a house, not small enough to be cramped, but just big enough to be comfy. The main room we stand in is piled high with our boxes which are stacked in one corner, swaying slightly as they loom menacingly over us. They wobble, teetering on an invisible axis, as though some gnome had decided to rock them around, jumping from box to box with clunky feet. Just thinking about the unpacking we have to do makes me feel exhausted. There is a small coffee table at the centre of the room, surrounded by two deep brown armchairs. I wonder at the faint skid marks on the floor, thinking that perhaps some vampire had not been happy with them once upon a time. For a while I stare, my head foggy with a vision of an immortal bloodsucker ordering an elf to put them 'here, no there' and smile pleasantly to myself. My eyes linger to the deep red wallpaper, painted with small white flowers, like speckles of snow. It's cracking in places, and only serves to remind me that this room is probably just as old as many of the vampires who live here. Perhaps even older. I grimace at the thought, suddenly feeling very small.
There are a few empty shelves and cabinets, slightly dusty but not altogether shabby, illuminated by the small chandelier that sways wearily on its hinges, a poor imitation of the ones found in the throne room. Yet the cabinets serve very little interest to me and I find my feet moving from under me before I even realise what I am doing. Yawning, I peer into the adjacent rooms, a bedroom and a bathroom, both equally sized and similarly decorated to the main room, save from the presence of large picture frames and golden rimmed mirrors. Rubbing my eyes, I make a mental decision to actually get some sleep tonight. Vampires may be immortal creatures of the night, but I am not. I feel my feet dragging over to the four poster bed, half aware of my actions, and flop down onto the furs, my cheek sinking into the warmth.
"So are you going to tell me why you are covered in blood?" comes Ithuriel's voice from the bathroom. The hot, gushing sound of warm water hits my ears and the clink of him putting down what must be his ring on the side of a sink rings in the opposite room. I don't recall him going in there, but part of me is so tired I doubt I would even notice a vampire sat right in front of me. Groaning, I turn over.
"Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to be transformed in the castle?" I call back, wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve. The smell of dried blood catches in my nose, bitter and irony. I grimace. There is no way I am going around in these clothes. Reluctantly I get to my feet and stumble into the living room, hands outstretched like a zombie as I make my way to the pull out the biggest case from the pile. I desperately hope it's one which contains some clothes, too tired to go tearing through each box in turn.. Edging it out of the swaying towers of boxes like a giant game of jenga, I tug it from the pile.
A tall butler approaches, holding out a gloved hand for the key, beckoning with his fingers. "Room 7," he muses as his piercing eyes flash, holding up the inscription to the light. The lion head glimmers coldly. "Turn right from the entrance and keep going down the hall, it's right at the end," he tells me, nodding his head with a half smile. He doesn't mention at the blood coating my dress, or the crimson stains on my cheek- perhaps he is used to seeing it. I think maybe he doesn't care. Either way I return his nod with a dizzy smile as he snaps his fingers and our cargo disappears. I look back at the palace, the white walls still glowing like beacons, dwindling pale figures flitting in and out, their eyes shifting, hungry. They can sense the blood, I know they can. You can see it in the way they linger around, keeping their distance, sniffing the air and stalking on long legs like a tiger on a carcass. Some of them can't help themselves but draw closer, snake-like and sly, their eyes shifting from red, to black, to red again. But something keeps them off me, a scent that is not my own. So they stay and eye me warily, wondering if they might strike, and what would become of them if they do. I am not eager to go back so soon, and even less eager to stumble across the strange white haired vampire who seemed more than adamant to have his fun with me. But the look Ithuriel gives me tells me I have no other choice. Nervously, I swallow my fear, and start walking. *** The lion headed door knob stares at me as I fit the matching key into the lock, twisting slowly only to be rewarded with a satisfying 'click'. The door swings open at my touch, and Ithuriel shoots in through the widening crack, paws thumping on the shiny wood. I waste no time in joining him, shuffling through and locking the door behind me, leaving the key in the lock. Just in case I ever needed to get out quickly, I think darkly to myself. The room is dim, much like the rest of the palace, so much so that my eyes struggle to make out the objects at each end of the room. Everything seems to be surrounded by an ominous mist, or perhaps a dusty fog, so that if you reach your hand out a little way into the room, you'd be left not quite sure if it is even there at all. I blow out a breath. "Lux," I command, lifting my fingertips towards the ceiling as little rays of light shoot from my hand, shifting and moulding in on itself to form round, glowing orbs that banish the shadows from the room. The thick, foggy atmosphere lifts, leaving in its place an unpleasant dampness that clings to my lungs. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Better. The room- or what I thought was one room, actually consists of three separate rooms, like a miniature version of a house, not small enough to be cramped, but just big enough to be comfy. The main room we stand in is piled high with our boxes which are stacked in one corner, swaying slightly as they loom menacingly over us. They wobble, teetering on an invisible axis, as though some gnome had decided to rock them around, jumping from box to box with clunky feet. Just thinking about the unpacking we have to do makes me feel exhausted. There is a small coffee table at the centre of the room, surrounded by two deep brown armchairs. I wonder at the faint skid marks on the floor, thinking that perhaps some vampire had not been happy with them once upon a time. For a while I stare, my head foggy with a vision of an immortal bloodsucker ordering an elf to put them 'here, no there' and smile pleasantly to myself. My eyes linger to the deep red wallpaper, painted with small white flowers, like speckles of snow. It's cracking in places, and only serves to remind me that this room is probably just as old as many of the vampires who live here. Perhaps even older. I grimace at the thought, suddenly feeling very small. There are a few empty shelves and cabinets, slightly dusty but not altogether shabby, illuminated by the small chandelier that sways wearily on its hinges, a poor imitation of the ones found in the throne room. Yet the cabinets serve very little interest to me and I find my feet moving from under me before I even realise what I am doing. Yawning, I peer into the adjacent rooms, a bedroom and a bathroom, both equally sized and similarly decorated to the main room, save from the presence of large picture frames and golden rimmed mirrors. Rubbing my eyes, I make a mental decision to actually get some sleep tonight. Vampires may be immortal creatures of the night, but I am not. I feel my feet dragging over to the four poster bed, half aware of my actions, and flop down onto the furs, my cheek sinking into the warmth. "So are you going to tell me why you are covered in blood?" comes Ithuriel's voice from the bathroom. The hot, gushing sound of warm water hits my ears and the clink of him putting down what must be his ring on the side of a sink rings in the opposite room. I don't recall him going in there, but part of me is so tired I doubt I would even notice a vampire sat right in front of me. Groaning, I turn over. "Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to be transformed in the castle?" I call back, wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve. The smell of dried blood catches in my nose, bitter and irony. I grimace. There is no way I am going around in these clothes. Reluctantly I get to my feet and stumble into the living room, hands outstretched like a zombie as I make my way to the pull out the biggest case from the pile. I desperately hope it's one which contains some clothes, too tired to go tearing through each box in turn.. Edging it out of the swaying towers of boxes like a giant game of jenga, I tug it from the pile.
