Page 45 of My Big Fat Vampire Wedding
“So, Pandora,” Elias said, either oblivious to her sour mood, or not caring, “I hear you work at a … coffee shop.”
“I do.”
“Why?” he asked, gesturing toward the house.
She couldn’t exactly tell him that she worked there because she actually liked humans; she found that their mortality made them seem to just live more fully. They knew they only had a certain number of years, so they tried to fill that time with as much laughter and joy as possible.
It was endearing and refreshing.
“I like it,” she answered simply.
Ophelia prompted her. “Dear, this is where you ask Elias what he does for work.”
Pandora couldn’t care less. But she couldn’t be that rude. “What do you do for work, Elias?” she asked obediently.
“I deal in rare artifacts,” he said. Which, thankfully,prompted about three hundred questions from Uncle Reginald, who, apparently, had about a thousand items he might be interested in selling.
The discussion lasted long enough – despite Ophelia’s constant attempts to steer the conversation and get Elias and Pandora talking – to allow Victor to finish helping with the clearing of the table, whole pig and all, and take his seat beside her again.
“Never … more,” Vlad declared this into a sudden gap in the chatter, making Victor look over, brows raised as he inspected the raven.
“That’s impressive,” he said, nodding at the bird.
Pandora didn’t tell Victor that Vlad could actually recite the entire one-hundred-and-eight-line poem. In dramatized fashion. Or that he claimed he was the raven from the famous poem. That taunting Edgar had simply been another of his many pranks during a short stint their family had spent in the States. Nor that, despite all of that, Vlad’s favorite Edgar Allan Poe poem was actuallyAnnabel Lee.
“He’s a chatty bird,” Pandora said, figuring there might be a time when Victor overheard the raven speaking, and not wanting him to be surprised by it.
Though, even she had to admit that the chances of Victor finding out that undead ravens existed, let alone that her family had one, were slim to none.
“Shall we take drinks in the parlour?” Ophelia asked, rising to her feet, prompting all of the men to immediately follow.
Victor reached for the back of Pandora’s chair and then waited for her to step out, before following her out into the hallway, then down the hall toward the parlour.
“Wow, that’s an impressive clock,” Victor said as he noticed the cherrywood grandfather clock with its ebony inlays and brass Arabic numerals. The swan-neck pendant sat unmoving.
“It’s a shame it hasn’t rung since 1832,” Lucian said in passing, forgetting the situation for a moment.
Victor shot a confused look in Pandora’s direction. “How does he know that?”
“Oh, er, it was … in the owner’s manual,” Pandora said. “Very detailed,” she added with a nod.
“Mind if I take a look at it?” Elias asked, making Lucian straighten.
“By all means,” her father said. Pandora tried not to roll her eyes as she led Victor further into the room, pulling him down with her on a sofa.
“You’re still freezing,” Victor said when her hand brushed his. He reached for it, holding it between both of his as Ravenna asked him no fewer than fifty rapid-fire questions, barely giving him enough time to answer before shooting him another one.
Pandora was endlessly thankful for Ravenna, though. She was clearly trying. To be accepting. To make Victor feel comfortable.
While her own mother tried to insert a new love interest into her life. Right under her fiancé’s nose.
“There we go,” Elias said a few moments later, waving toward where the pendulum was now swinging lazily.
Who was this guy?
Pandora thought he was starting to seem like one of those Mary Sue characters in books that were universally hated because they were just too good at everything. Too pretty, too smart, too talented. With no real depths,vulnerabilities, insecurities, or flaws to even out all that perfection.
What was the male version of a Mary Sue called, she wondered. A Larry Stu? Gary Stu?
