18. A New Friend

Chapter eighteen

A New Friend

I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The digital clock on my nightstand reads 2:00 AM, its neon glow the only light in the room. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts about Oliver. I'm hopeful yet fearful about our relationship. The idea that he might have been drawn to me only because his vampiric urges were temporarily at bay haunts me. What if his vampirism returns in full force? Would we still be able to share those passionate moments, or would everything change?

Unable to find peace, I slip out of bed, deciding to wander the halls of the old mansion. As I tiptoe through the corridors, the creaks of the ancient floorboards seem loud in the stillness of the night. The walls are adorned with portraits and tapestries that speak of a bygone era. The house feels alive with history, its secrets embedded in every nook and cranny.

I pass by Reyes, Byron, and Hunter's room. The door is slightly ajar, but I don't dare peek in for too long. From the soft, steady breathing sounds, I can tell they are deeply asleep, likely lost in worlds of their own making. As a warlock, Byron's dreams must be vivid and full of magic, I muse.

Continuing my nocturnal exploration, I find myself drawn to the living room. The space is grand, yet it holds a certain warmth. The large couches are plush and inviting, positioned around an ornate fireplace that's currently dark and cold, and possibly fake. The mantelpiece above it is lined with various trinkets and old photographs.

As I sit on one of the couches, my gaze wanders to the large windows. That's when I notice it – a message appearing on the foggy glass. " Hello, Amelia! " it reads. My heart skips a beat, but I quickly realize who it must be.

"Hello, Ivan," I say aloud, a small smile playing on my lips. The ghostly resident of our home has always been a quiet presence, watching over us. "How are you tonight?" I ask, my voice soft but clear.

On the window, new words form: " I'm as well as a ghost can be. And you? "

"I'm... confused," I admit, hugging my knees to my chest. "About Oliver."

" Love is a complicated, even without the fangs. " writes Ivan. I wonder what Ivan knows, or saw. I'm going to choose not to think about it too hard.

"Do you think it's possible for us? I mean, with him being a vampire and all?"

The window remains blank for a moment before Ivan's response appears. " Love finds a way ."

"I hope you're right," I sigh, feeling a little comforted, and perhaps a little embarrassed to see the word 'love' written on a window.

" Have faith, Amelia. Good things take time ."

I chuckle softly. "You're quite the philosopher, Ivan."

" Death brings perspective. " he replies, and I can almost hear the amusement in his ghostly voice.

Sitting there, in the silent living room, talking to a ghost through window writing, I realize just how unusual my life has become. And I'm loving it.