Page 91 of Vampires of Eden
“Sounds like a nice arrangement.” We approach a pair of handsome light-wood double doors. The design is modern here, too, as each side holds four rectangular and beautifully stained-glass panels arranged in parallel from top to bottom.
“I want to show you something in particular,” Raphael says, pulling one door open and waiting for me to pass.
I step into a sprawling courtyard surrounded by more towering trees. The pavement underneath my feet is undoubtedly stone, but different from the red brick in front of the house.
This path sparkles in the late afternoon sunlight. Winter grass and emergent brush line the path. Both of these are outshined by the river of white daffodils hugging either side of the walkway. Straight ahead, the sunlight gleams against an impressive structure comprised of cedar-wood and glass walls.
When we reach the doors, Raphael pulls one open and gestures for me to enter. Inside, the space is aglow with green because of the glass and our lush surroundings. Light fixtures hang from the ceiling like icicles and the floor’s hardwood has been buffed to perfection.
I scan the room and my breath catches. Far in the back corner and lifted on a small stage sits a grand piano. Radiant and majestic. A work of art.
“This is one of Lexie’s favorite hiding places,” Raphael says, bypassing me in my stunted state. He strides toward the piano. “When life gets too hard, he has two coping mechanisms—Buffyand the piano.”
Still in awe, I trail behind him as if I’m approaching a rare andskittish animal in the forest. My hands tremble. “Buffy as in the cat or the TV-show?”
Raphael laughs. “Mostly the latter but sometimes the former. Good catch. I like that you pay attention to the details.” He steps up onto the platform and casually lifts the fallboard. “Do you know why he started playing the piano?”
Actually… I don’t even think that I knew he played until this moment. “I do not.”
The manservant tilts his head. “Because of you.”
My eyes widen and I falter, genuinely surprised. “Me?”
Theclackof the fallboard opening makes me jump. It echoes loudly in the silent hall. Raphael lightly runs his fingers along the keys and my heart is a tumultuous sea of emotions.
Longing and self-loathing.
Delight and fear.
Regret and sadness.
“He only saw you play once,” Raphael goes on. “But the experience left a profound impression on him. You played Beethoven’sPiano Sonata Number Eight, right?Sonata Pathétique?”
With my feet rooted to the floor, I blink, swallowing hard. “I suppose? I played it often in those days as a performance piece so yes, probably.”
“Right. Lexie was obsessed with that piece. It took him about a year to learn it—a year and a half to play it well because he struggled with thetremolo. Now, he can play it by heart.”
Raphael sits on the edge of the bench, addressing me as if he were a professor regarding his pupil from a lectern. “After your performance, for weeks on end, he wouldn’t stop talking about you and how ‘cool’ you were. It was the first time I’d seen him genuinely excited about anyone or anything. He was mesmerized by you, Daniel.”
Along with the other jumbled mess of emotions stirring in my chest, somehow, insecurity sneaks in. Doubt and cynicism. I shouldn’t reveal myself and say what I’m thinking, but I do it anyway.
“Whatever impact I may or may not have had wasn’t momentous. He had Oliver, after all.” Embarrassing. I tried to say it nonchalantly but it still came out catty. I’m glad my cheeks can’t flush. In these situations, it’s nice that my body is incapable of expressing any visible or outward signs of emotion.
Raphael folds his arms. “Oliver was different. Their engagement was orchestrated by the elder vampires around them and the rules of society at large. The seed of a flawless fairytale was planted in Alexander’s head and intentionally cultivated over many years. Alexander was obsessed with Oliver because that was the primary objective. Lady Kendrick wanted this, Oliver’s fathers wanted it and the aristocracy as a whole reveled in it—even if Oliver himself never wanted anything to do with it. Alexander submitted to the propaganda because he’s always been an obedient little vampire prince.”
The manservant turns, taking in the majestic instrument beside him. “But you and this piano? His excitement was… organic. Real. There was no outside manipulation.”
Raphael shifts his gaze toward me again. His light eyes are intense. “Alexander didn’t have a choice with Oliver. Not really. He thinks he did, but he couldn’t see the pressure and influence all around him like I could. The way both their lives were being contorted as if they were puppets on strings. The next time Lexie falls in love, I think he should choose for himself. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Breaking his gaze, I stick my hands in my pockets to distract myself. Raphael is a straight-shooter. Bold for a second-gen vampire in a rigid, hierarchical-based aristocracy like ours.
This is a lot to take in, but I respect his being candid. I return the favor.
“I do,” I tell him. “You seem confident that he would want me.”
“I am. Even putting aside everything that I already know, he just bypassed Oliver’s blood for yours. You don’t find that significant?”
A hard shiver runs down my spine and I bristle from the visceral memory of his tongue lapping my wrist. It’s too much to process in this moment so I shake my head to clear it.
