His triumphant expression is glorious. I’m a bit starstruck but content to stare.
“A conversation for another day. For now, know you are safer when the sun is still mastering the sky. Never leave this castle in cover of darkness. I cannot be held responsible for what prowls after the sun has set.”
“Thank you,” I start and then look up at the ceiling as I try to remember his full name. “Count Jean-Claude Von Zarovich, the third.”
He looks down at me and smiles. “Everly, call me Jean-Claude.”
“Oh. Harlow said…”
“I care not what the incubus said,” he interrupts me. His expression is stern. “And I apologize for whatever it is he did to you… he should not have.” He takes a step closer as he studies me. “Though I understand how difficult it was for him to… rein in his desire.” He lifts his index finger, as though he’s going to run it down my cheek but then he remembers himself and clears his throat, stepping back. “Regardless, he was in the wrong.”
“He… didn’t really do anything. It’s… it’s okay,” I say.
“You are a noble person,” Jean-Claude says. “I bid you adieu.”
I nod, and the count bows; a custom I’m used to with dryads. I return a curtsy, and my heart drops when he turns to go, knowing Annabell is waiting for him.
Ugh, why do I even care?
I don’t care.
I really don’t care. At all.
Stregen remains.
I feel a little uncomfortable with the ghoul staring at me. I now know enough not to turn my back on him, though the count didn’t say anything other than “be yourself.” But it’s a mystery how this—for lack of a better term—servant doesn’t try to eat me.
“Soooo, ummm…”
The ghoul suddenly turns and walks out the open door. I’m left alone in the identity crisis room, and I’m starving. Should I walk around? Wait? Am I just left to my own devices? Is there even a kitchen in the castle?
There’s a window, and it’s pitch black out, but I can see the garden and its soft lights guiding a path around the herb sectionals. Moonlight shines down on the water fountain, but instead of the statue of a man, there’s a giant stone wolf.
Holy goddess! Did the statue change? Am I seeing things right?
I hear a familiar squeak, squeak, squeak of wheels and turn to see Stregen rolling in my luggage.
“He found it!” Harlow got my bag back!
I rush downstairs to see if I can catch him to thank him, and I find him loitering in the entrance hall. Moonlight spills over the grand foyer and casts my incubus friend in a silver glow. The night loves him and bathes him in beauty.
“Harlow!” I’m so happy to see him, I nearly throw my arms around him. Before I get to him, though, I remember touching him is dangerous. But is it perilous or just risky?
He tosses that sexy grin at me, the sliver of teeth radiant in moon glow, and lifts his hands. He’s wearing black spandex gloves. I run over to him and give him a tight hug. “Thank you for getting my bag. I really really appreciate it.”
“That hug alone was totally worth it.” His smile carries to his voice, and I look up at him.
“I will always be grateful to those that return what little I do have.” It’s then I notice the front doors. They remain open. Not subtle at all. I guess this visit will be cut short.
Harlow frowns, but I don’t elaborate any further about my belongings. He’s the one to speak again. The feeling that we’re being watched tingles my senses, and I look around the room.
“Hey, so…” He wraps his arms around me again. “I’m sorry for the way I just left you here. The count and I don’t get along all that great.”
I spy Stregen in the shadows of the stairwell. His focus is on us, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say his eyes are as clear and sharp as the count’s. Anger builds behind Stregen’s gaze.
When I don’t respond, Harlow pulls away from our embrace and caresses a strand of my hair. I’m surprised at the intimacy of his touch, but I have to admit, I like it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I know the count believes he needs to protect me, but this is next-level surveillance.
When Harlow leaves, the doors finally close. That’s when I turn to the ghoul. “Stregen, I’m… quite hungry. And I need food. Not… blood.”
Stregen nods, but there’s still more. Dryads dietary needs are specific and important. “I drink water from a fresh spring, bottled if you have it, but I’m also fine foraging in your garden.”
The haze in the ghoul’s eyes returns, and once again, his blank stare sees through me. He walks past me through a hall. Right when I wonder if I’m being ignored or if he understood me, Stregen halts. It takes a heartbeat for me to get it. He wants me to follow him.
When I do, he continues, and it’s a bit creepy that he knows when I’m following him. I’m led to a kitchen filled with stainless steel. There Stregen points out the food supplies and I put together a salad for myself.
The only thing left is to meet this headmaster and get myself on the first train to Arcadia.
TEN♀♥♂♂♂♂JEAN-CLAUDE
Everly Stillwater.
Just her name makes my concentration slip. I lean back into my chair and draw up an image of the girl. Her vitality alone could sink me to my knees. A dryad. I cannot remember the last time I came into contact with one. It has been centuries, at the very least.
Combine her uncommon lavender hair, pale skin, and large, trusting, violet eyes, and she is my personal disaster.
