Page 41 of Vampires of Eden
“Ifyouinsist on talking, then why don’t you ask a question?”
Ask him a question… Why are you coming to the house in Nantshire? What are you running away from? Why is your existence miserable? Why do you smell like you’re still emotionally entwined with another vampire? Why do you sense me?
Searching, I glance around the car. None of those questions are appropriate. Not now, anyway. I need something simple. Innocuous.
When I turn my head, an object in the back seat catches my eye. There’s a red plush toy in a plastic package sitting in the bend by the seatbelt latch. It looks like… a stuffed chili pepper? I narrow my eyes to read the label, then smile.
“Why do you have a ‘cat-nip-filled chili pepper’ sitting in your back seat?”
“Ah—shit. Can you… Would you do me a favor and grab that, please? I keep forgetting to take it inside when I get home.”
Leaning, I reach and grab the package. “Someone has a pet cat at your estate?”
“Yes, me.”
“Interesting. What’s the cat’s name?”
“Her name is Buffy.”
Sitting straight in my seat, I pause. “Buffy? As in,The Vampire Slayer?”
“Yes. Just set it in the cupholder, please?”
Doing as asked, I stifle my grin. “Fan of the show?”
“I am.”
“I liked the first and second seasons,” I offer.
“The first and second seasons are fun.”
“Agreed. It starts getting a little dark by season three. I stopped watching halfway through.”
“Season six is probably my favorite,” Alexander says casually. His hands slide down the steering wheel in a noticeably more relaxed gesture. “It is dark, but I love the way its shot, and every episode is written with a specific intention. It’s my comfort show.”
“I get that. It’s an enjoyable series. Classic 90’s American television.” The stiffness in the air has dissipated somewhat. Irelax my shoulders. “Tell me about Buffy, your cat—is she short haired? Long? What breed?”
Alexander shifts, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket. The road is empty aside from us, so he quickly maneuvers with one hand to unlock the device. He slows the car and his eyes flicker between the road and the glowing screen as he drives. “She’s a long-haired calico. Here.” He hands me his phone and I accept it with both hands.
It’s a video. I press play and a lovely cat artfully covered in brown, black and white splotches trots toward the camera. She has intense green eyes as she meows. Alexander is talking in the video—he calls her “Buff Buff” and tells her she’s beautiful. The cat loves this attention as she meows and nuzzles the camera lens. The video ends. Wow.
“She’s gorgeous,” I tell him.
“She is. Clever, too.”
“How long have you had her?”
“Seven years. I’ve had her since she was a kitten. She was a stray. I found her in one of the villages we were touring. She was all matted and scraggily-looking. I asked around and nobody wanted her, so I snuck her home.”
I snicker. “Are there more photos?”
“Um, yeah, just swipe left and there are a couple more in that set.”
Swiping with my finger, there are several bright, adoring shots of Buffy. One where she’s cleaning her face as she sits on a plush comforter. Another with her sitting upright and regal on the corner of a desk in what appears to be a stunning library. The sunlight streams over her like a professional portrait.
I swipe once more and flinch because the next photo isn’t Buffy. It’s Oliver. Mostly the side of his face, but his baby-blue eyes are bright as he looks into the camera with subtle confusion.
As if I can’t deviate from the rote behavior of swiping, I do it once more. It’s Oliver again, but this time he’s frowning into the camera. Clearly displeased. Still, the shot is undeniably cute. Likethe pictures of Buffy, it glows with the warmth and candidness of a spontaneous moment—with the obvious affection of the photographer behind the lens.
