Page 81 of Vampires of Eden: Oliver
The library has large picture windows, which makes it brightly lit, rain or shine, and perfect for reading. I imagine, anyway. I’ve never had the privilege or privacy of enjoying a book here.
Maple furnishings gleam in the sunshine. Stately moldings line the sage-colored walls and the space is equipped with cozy tufted chairs, a couch and a large desk. There’s a spiral wooden staircase leading to the upper level, which hosts more bookshelves and a marble chess set placed atop a table between two armchairs.
It smells like timber and worn paper pages. Dusty hardcovers, but with a tinge of something earthy and sweet. Maybe patchouli?
“Buffyyy.” Alexander sings the word as he bends, sweeping his long-haired calico cat up from the bottom step of the staircase and into his arms. He cradles her like a baby and kisses her face. The teardrop shape of her nose and mouth is white, but the patches covering her eyes are mismatched blobs of orange and black. She looks like she’s wearing a mask. A feline bank robber ready for a heist.
“Why did you name her Buffy?” I ask, stepping past him and moving toward the couch. “What does that mean?”
“Because of the TV show,” he says, still holding her as he plops down on the couch beside me. “The one the humans made about vampires—Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” He looks at me, waiting for some kind of recognition. I have none.
I shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“God, Ollie. What the hell?”
“Why would you name your cat after someone who might slay you?”
“Why have they kept you so damn sheltered?”
“For you,” I say plainly. “Because I’m your prize.”
He huffs. “Some prize. You don’t even know aboutBuffy. What good are you?”
“Exactly. I’m totally useless. You should get rid of me.”
Alexander’s body tenses. His face is serious. “That’s not what I meant. It was just a joke.”
“I know, I know.” Shaking my head, I lean, rubbing my palm atop Buffy’s head. She lifts her chin, welcoming the affection and purring loudly. Silence falls between us as I pet her. The room is cozy. Insulated and secluded.
I think this is the most at ease I’ve ever felt around Alexander. It’s… nice. Surprising.
Glancing to my right, I see a laptop computer on the desk. Ever since our honest talk this morning, I’ve been thinking more seriously about how I could escape. Particularly, what I would do and where I would go if I even managed it. I need to do some research, but the lack of electronics has put me at a disadvantage.
Buffy flips in Alexander’s arms, purring and resettling on his lap. Swallowing, I take a chance. “Would it be alright if I used that computer?”
He glances up at me, absently stroking her fur as she makes biscuits on his thigh. “Sure.”
“Is it password-protected?” I stand and move toward the desk. “Is it monitored by your security?”
“God no. Why would we do that?”
“All of my devices were monitored… except for my phone, but that’s gone now.” The moment I touch the space bar, the screen comes to life. He was telling the truth because the desktop icons are just there. No password needed. I sit, taking hold of the mouse and navigating to the Internet.
“For the record, I never asked anyone to keep you under glass for me. I don’t know whose idea that was.” Alexander’s voice drops to a grumble. “Not that it did anything, considering you’re sleeping with someone else right under my nose.”
I pause, turn and meet his eyes. He stares back at me from the couch with his arms folded. Buffy hops onto the floor at his feet, then starts cleaning her face. “What?” he asks. “I can’t say it aloud? It’s the truth.”
He’s right. It is the truth. But what do I say? I turn back to the computer without speaking and resume my search. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. All I know is that I need to get out. I need to find a realistic path to freedom.
Alexander stands from the couch and moves toward me. “Are you upset?”
“No.”
“Why aren’t you talking?”
“What am I supposed to say?”
He’s at my side when he shrugs. “I don’t know. That you’re sorry? That you apologize?”
