Chapter Two: Caldric

As Caldric shook the rain from his umbrella, he realized his clothes were soaked, the feeble barrier of the umbrella having been unable to shield him from the torrent of water outside.

The water didn't feel cold on his skin. In fact, it didn't really feel like anything, and not even a sigh escaped his lips as he realized that the dye from his tie had run and stained his white shirt with its threadbare cuffs.

Oh well.

He lifted his eyes and looked across the crowded tavern. People of all sorts sat around drinking and eating and talking and laughing. Caldric might have felt that they were mocking him if he could feel anything at all. Anything but the numbing cold that had settled deep within every part of him.

Instead, the chatter and mirth were just droning background noise, the cheery tavern a dull scene playing out before him, and his soaked clothes were not even a bother.

He wasn't sure why he had even come here. It was a rare day when he left his manor house to venture outside, let alone to a place like this. Yet here he was, bewildered as to why he was standing here.

But now what?

The bar, probably. That was a normal thing to do when at an establishment like this. Perhaps this place might be able to serve him a drink that satiated his thirst, or food that didn't turn to ash in his mouth. Or give him a stomachache. Vampires and human food did not mix well. Not well at all.

He began to make his way through the crowd, which seemed to make room for him. It was hard to tell if it was because of his pale skin and vampiric nature, or because his clothes dripped water all over the floor.

Not that the water droplets stayed there for long, as a mop and bucket, moving of their own accord, were hot on his trail. It would be amusing if only he could...

He sighed as he reached the bar, standing with his arms by his side while he waited to be noticed by either of the people working behind it—the witch Morwenna, or her bartender, Flint. But the bar was busy, and he knew he would have to wait for some time. No matter.

As he stood, he slowly became aware of the fact that he had been noticed. Not by the bar staff, but rather by a trio of older gentlemen and woman, perhaps in her late thirties, but the older he got, the harder it was to guess other people's ages.

And he was old. So old.

The woman studied him with shrewd eyes. And he studied her right back. If he recalled correctly, it was impolite to stare. But he had long become indifferent to social propriety. Just as he had become indifferent to everything and everyone.

But this woman. He narrowed his eyes, looking inwardly. He felt like…

He scoffed at the idea. Impossible.

But if he had felt something it would have been... He mused over that thought.

She too had pale skin, but not like the alabaster of a vampire, rather someone who saw little daylight, with raven hair, deep, dark eyes, and full lips.

He surmised she was probably beautiful if he was correctly remembering what beauty even meant.

Caldric continued to wait, and they continued to stare.

He heard a whisper pass between them.

"You really can't be serious," the woman hissed, the sound of disdain clear in her voice.

"It seemed like a good idea, but now that he's there." One of the men's upper lip curled just a little. "I'm wondering if this beer has gone to my head."

"Don't be silly." Another of the men waved him off. "This is a splendid idea. No one will be the wiser, and you won't even have to fight anyone."

"Besides, what are your other options? Breaking in? That's going to be a whole lot more dangerous than a few uncomfortable days in the company of..."

It seemed as though they may have been talking about him.

How...interesting?

Caldric turned to them. "Can I help you?"

"No, I don't think you can." The woman eyed him up, much like a cat might watch a mouse.

"Let's not be hasty now." One of the men held up a hand. "I don't know if we've seen you here before. I'm Stan, this is Burt, Harry, and Burt's niece, Aralyn. We're the Regulars here. Minus Aralyn, that is."

" Stan ," Aralyn and Burt both hissed at him.

"Good evening. My name is Caldric." He nodded. "I'm familiar with this place, but I don't frequent it too often."

"Social gatherings with the living aren't really a common place for blood suckers, are they?" Aralyn asked.

Caldric shrugged. "I suppose not."

Aralyn narrowed her eyes at him.

"And what brings a fine, undead gentleman such as yourself out here tonight?" Stan continued.

Caldric raised his eyebrows and looked down at the bar, cured from years of spilled drink. "I'm not really sure."

"Just fancied a stroll in the storm?" Harry asked, looking at his sopping clothes.

"No. Not really."

"Needed a drink?" Stan asked.

Caldric shook his head. "Hm. That's not it."

"Then what is it?" Burt demanded.

Caldric thought for a good long while, but he didn't have an answer. There had been no calling, no need or even desire to leave his house. He was just sitting in his drawing room, then he found himself on his feet, umbrella in hand, and suddenly out the door, heading in this direction. He shrugged again. "Perhaps I needed some fresh air."

Aralyn sniffed. "I'm not sure I'd call this fresh."

"Perhaps some stuffy air is what I was after?" Caldric offered.

Aralyn leaned toward Burt. "I'm not buying any of this."

"Did I hear you were trying to break into somewhere?" Caldric asked.

Aralyn and Burt glanced at one another, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Stan beat her to it.

"Yes, we are, old chap. We're trying to break into the vampire social scene." He grinned back at the others. "We were just talking about how Aralyn here might be invited to the upcoming Tolioni Ball, and boom , in you walk, just like that."

"If that's not fate, I don't know what is." Harry nodded.

Caldric tapped a finger to his chin. "The Tolioni Ball is on again already? I'm sure it wasn't that long ago since the last one was hosted."

"That was ten years ago," Burt said, his eyes, as well as Aralyn's, never leaving him.

Caldric opened his palm up. "Time just slips by, I suppose."

Aralyn tutted.

"Something the matter?"

"Everything is just so meaningless to you vampires. Time, people. None of it matters to you."

Caldric pursed his lips together. She didn't sound happy. Perhaps disappointed, even. "I'm sure it matters to others of my kind more. I, however, have an affliction."

"Don't all vampires?" Aralyn raised an eyebrow. "I would say vampirism is an affliction."

"I suppose." Caldric turned as Flint approached him from the other side of the bar.

"Hey, uh, Callum, right?"

"Caldric," he corrected.

"Right, sorry. Haven't seen you in here much before." Flint's eyes flicked toward the Regulars, and even Caldric could see the ‘what are you up to?' question on his face. "Can I get you anything?"

"I suppose that's what people do at bars, though I'm at a loss as to what I desire." Caldric eyed the numerous bottles stored in racks above his head over the bar.

"There's nothing you feel like having?" Flint asked.

"Not really."

"Is there a type of drink you prefer?"

"I don't think so."

"A flavor profile, even?"

"There might have been once, but I just don't know."

Flint nodded. "I'll get you a bread beer. That will at least tell you what you don't like, and we can start from there."

A tankard slid itself across the bar and into Flint's hand, which he then held under the lone tap at the bar and filled with a thick liquid that foamed as it poured. The potent smell of yeast made everyone groan. It should have been strong, acrid, enough to make his nose wrinkle, but it was just a dull, distant sensation, like everything else.

Caldric took the tankard and took a sip, feeling everyone watching him.

He shrugged and placed it back down on the counter. "I suppose it's as good as anything else."

" He's just not human, " Stan hissed.

" That's because he's a vampire ," Burt responded.

" Even a vampire should have reacted a little ," Harry said.

"There's something else going on here." Aralyn stood up and moved over next to him. "All right, I'll bite. What is this ‘affliction' of yours?"

Caldric took another sip of the beer as he thought as to whether he should tell this stranger. He could actually taste the beer, at least, which was nice, but it was weak, as if watered down.

Why not?

"I'm cursed. Beyond the vampirism." He placed a hand over his chest. "I have a frozen heart. Cursed never to feel any emotion, and barely feel anything else."

"A frozen heart?" Aralyn looked at his hand. "That's a powerful curse. How did it happen?"

"It doesn't matter." Caldric looked down into his beer. "But then, does anything?"

"Is someone moping?" Morwenna's voice cut above the chatter. "Anyone caught moping will have to pay three times the price listed for their drink!"

Aralyn eyed him up and down again but with a softer, more curious expression. "Maybe you can help me after all," she murmured.

"I don't see how."

"If you don't feel anything, then you won't mind being around a hunt—human. And I won't have to worry about you wanting to feed on me."

"Is this for that ball you wanted to attend?" Caldric asked.

"Yes. The ball." Aralyn shifted on her feet. "And it looks as though the only way I'll be able to go is if I'm a vampire's plus one. Assuming you have an invitation."

Caldric raised an eyebrow. "You want me to be your way in?"

Aralyn pursed her lips. "Yes."

Caldric watched the black cloak that billowed around her, the dark cloth hiding leather armor and the sharp wooden bolts on her hip. "Why did you want to go again?"

"I like the vampire…culture."

"And the ballroom dancing!" Stan called from behind her.

Aralyn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, the ballroom dancing. That's my favorite part," she said flatly.

"I can't help you. Sorry." Caldric went to turn away, but a firm hand grabbed his arm and turned him back to face Aralyn.

"What do you mean ‘can't help me?'" She hissed.

"Exactly that."

"Look, I'm sorry if I hurt your sense of self-importance by implying you were just a free ticket to the ball."

"It's not that," Caldric said. "I just don't care about going."

"What?" Aralyn asked incredulously. "It's one of the most prestigious events you vampires go to."

"Indeed. And I don't care for it."

"Why?" Aralyn demanded.

"As I just said, I have a frozen heart." Caldric looked at her blankly. "I don't care for anything. Besides, it's not just some ball. There are customs and traditions the family will expect all their guests to adhere to. It would take quite some preparation to be ready."

"Preparation is a huge part of my job." Aralyn looked up at him with her deep, intense gaze that almost gave him the same sensation as being stuck with one of her bolts.

"Then perhaps tell that to the next vampire you find." Caldric sipped the bread beer again. There certainly was something curious about the brew.

"Is that a yes?" Stan asked hopefully.

"No." With that, Caldric turned on his heel and left the bar, once again wondering why he had ever come here in the first place.