Page 13 of Vampires of Eden
CHAPTER 4
Alexander
Before I reach the front door to the house, it creaks open. Roland is there, smiling in a bright red sweater that pops against his golden-brown skin. “Hello, Prince Alexander. Thanks so much for coming.” He steps aside and gestures for me to enter.
“Hey, I apologize for being late. I was here on time but got sidetracked with a phone call.”
“No worries, no worries. Kathryn is in the kitchen. Coffee? Tea?”
“Tea, please,” I say, following him down the chilly hallway. Here, too, the floorboards are worn with age and scuff marks. Groaning beneath our weight as we walk. The old wallpaper is yellowed and torn in some places, uncomfortably stained in others. This house has seen better days.
We step into the kitchen, which is a large open space glowing with indirect, winter-white light because of the north-facing arch windows. Beyond the glass, there’s a direct view of the skeletal forest. With a brief glance, I catch sight of two bluebirds flittering from branch to branch. I imagine this space is gorgeous and filled with golden-green light in thesummer.
“Hello Alexander,” Kathryn stands from the table and walks over to shake my hand. I notice a professional-looking spread of papers and a notebook situated at her seat. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You as well,” I say, shaking her hand firmly. I know what these two want from me. They didn’t say it outright the last time we met, but the implication was there. Oliver hinted at it, too.
Unfortunately, my situation has changed drastically since then. The last time we talked, I asked them to do an inventory of everything the house needs and to present it to me today. It seems like they’ve held up their end of the arrangement. Whether or not I can hold up mine, I’m not sure.
I’m not confident about anything anymore.
“We have black tea—Earl Grey, Masala chai, Darjeeling and English breakfast,” Roland says, preparing a tray for the table. “Or green tea with jasmine?”
“Darjeeling, please?” Awkwardly, I take the seat at the head of the table since Kathryn gestures to that place.
“Cream or sugar?”
“Neither. Straight is perfect.”
“Can I take your coat, your grace?” Kathryn asks.
“No, thank you—and like I said before, we really don’t need to do that here. I promise, I’m not offended if you just call me Alexander. No honorifics are necessary.”
Kathryn smiles and there’s a friendly twinkle in her gaze. “You and Oliver are cut from the same cloth. He said something similar when he first came here.”
I grin, ignoring the sadness coloring my heart. Like a dull blueish gray. “Did he really?”
She takes the seat beside me. “He did. I’m sad that he’s leaving—hopefully he’ll be able to return, soon?”
“Maybe…” The melancholy wafts and spreads across my chest. How can I let go of Oliver and move on when everyone keeps throwing him in my face?
“We went through the house and conducted an inventory of repairs,” Kathryn goes on, getting down to business. “I’ve also gone a step further and collected some labor quotes from contractors and estimates for materials we’ll need. Hopefully this gives you the full financial scope of the project?”
I bite the inside of my cheek as Roland joins us at the table with a tray of tea cups, a kettle and a small dish of sugar cubes. I’m not sure how this is going to land, but… “Thank you for taking care of that. I… Before we get into the details, I need to be honest with you both about some things. Some recent developments.”
Having set a teacup down in front of me, Roland pauses with the kettle in midair. “Is everything alright?”
“Well,” I consider, scratching the back of my head. “No. Not really.” He and Kathryn exchange a look, but he pours my tea, sets the kettle down, then goes and sits beside his mate. Calmly, they watch, waiting.
I focus on the steam rising from my freshly poured tea. “Frankly, I’m broke. The larger sum of money I had is gone now, for various unforeseen reasons. So, I won’t be able to privately fund the entirety of this project, which I’m guessing is the expectation?” Nervous, I glance up. They blink, seemingly processing my announcement, so I go on.
“I havesomecapital, but it’s like… I’m living on a fixed income. I believe in what you’re doing here and I’m still willing to help, but maybe… not as much financially as I originally thought. We’ll have to be discerning about which projects take priority.”
I feel like an asshole and a fraud. I rushed into this because, well, Oliver said I should do it. I respect his opinion and I’m an idiot that wants to make him happy, so I contacted Roland and told him that I could help. But I didn’t know that Lord Blakeley would rob me for all I had in exchange for Oliver’s passport and birth certificate.
Naively, I thought he’d ask for a percentage. Not the entire fucking sum.
Kathryn eyes me in the silence. When she speaks, her tone is serious. “Why do you want to help us, Alexander? What’s your intention here?”
