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Chapter Five: Caldric

Shadows and cobwebs clung to the corners of the manor house that Caldric had called home for centuries. The rain pounding against the stone bricks and slate shingles was a dull, white noise, while flashes of lightning lanced through the gaps in poorly drawn drapes.

Caldric had once been, as many vampires were, a stickler for drape management. They had been ornately decorated and there would not have been so much as a crack for the harsh sun to peer through during the day. At night, the windows would be uncovered, welcoming in the cool moonlight in all its glory.

However, he had not felt fear for the sun in longer than he could remember. There had even been times when he had been winged by a shaft of sunlight during early mornings. A searing pain that would put panic into the un beating hearts of even the toughest vampire, but not for Caldric. He would take one look at his faded drapes, with their now faded gold linings, and any fear quickly left him, leaving the profound apathy that permeated his existence.

Caldric shrugged off his coat, that had seen better days, and hung it by the door where it dripped onto the worn carpet. The short flight of stairs down into the main hall creaked beneath his weight, complaining of the negligence they had to endure as he made his way down.

Then he was standing in what had been the jewel of the manor. The large round hall, shaped like a small amphitheater, around which the rest of the house was built.

He had spent many nights hosting auspicious guests here or simply enjoying the solitude with his one true love.

His fingers traced the rich mahogany top of the grand piano that took center stage at the bottom of the hall. It had been with him even longer than the house had, longer than anything else had been in his eternal life.

Yet even this could not break him from his curse. He flicked open the keylid and seated himself on the stool in front of it, which sat at a wonky angle from a damaged leg.

The ivory and ebony keys stared back up at him, begging him to make them sing like they once had.

He placed his thin fingers on them and pressed down. The sound that came out was as monotonous as the rain outside.

Caldric began to play, but each note was muted and muffled, sounding similar to the last. He almost wished that they were instead discordant, so he could at least feel annoyance at the music. Instead, he simply went through the motions of playing through some old compositions that he had long forgotten the name of, trailing off around halfway through the recital to once again sit in silence.

A silence that was very quickly shattered by the sound of the door knocker.

Caldric frowned. "A visitor? That's strange."

He pushed himself to his feet and headed back up the stairs toward the pounding knock at the door. It sounded like they were impatient, that they wanted an answer quicker.

It would be strange that a door-to-door salesperson would be out in this storm. His neighbors hadn't visited in years, and a hunter surely wouldn't just knock on his front door.

He paused at the threshold.

Whoever was on the other side of his front door was human.

He could hear the blood thumping in their veins. Thumping louder than he would normally expect. Were they scared, excited? Perhaps he was about to be confronted by someone on a dare. It happened every few weeks or so.

One of the local youths dared another to knock on a vampire's door. And usually, it was his door, since most of them knew he was the least likely to fly into an angry rage at being disturbed.

"Oh, anger, how I miss you," Caldric murmured as he reached for the door handle and cracked the door.

"You missed me?" The vampire hunter from the tavern stood on the other side of the door, head tilted to one side as she smiled at him. Rainwater poured down from her raised hood, and her right hand was hidden from view, and he suspected it held a stake. She'd apparently come here to drive it through his heart in revenge for his failure to do her bidding and help her with whatever it had been that she asked of him.

Had it been a mission of some sort? He hadn't cared to remember it.

"I told you I was not interested in helping you," Caldric told her, but for some reason, he did not close the door, although he was possibly in mortal, well, im mortal peril right now.

"Yes, yes, you're not interested in much at all, thanks to that curse of yours," she replied as she looked him up and down, no doubt judging him for his shabby clothes.

"It is not my curse," he told her. "It does not belong to me. It was forced on me..."

"I know." She leaned farther to the side, peering past him. "Can I come in?"

"Why?" Caldric asked. He didn't know why she was here, and the reason was probably not going to be good for his health. But she was a distraction from the boredom he could not feel. He was sure that people liked to change things up from time to time so why not give it a go?

"Because I have wine." She held up a bottle of fine red wine. Expensive fine red wine. He leaned forward and sniffed the air. She smelled of freshly baked cake.

His eyes narrowed. There was only one house in this part of town that would smell like that.

"You raided Silas's wine cellar." His fangs protruded from his mouth. He didn't need fear to tell him he was in danger.

"I wouldn't call it raiding," she said, taking a cautionary step back.

"Then what would you call it?" Caldric opened the door wider, his gaze distant as he stared across the rainy street to the gaunt mansion across the way.

The mansion where Silas lived with his lovely wife and children. Even Caldric, with all the world's lethargy, would not allow harm to come to them.

"What did you do?" He straightened up, looming over the vampire hunter, ready to avenge...

"I asked him if I could have a bottle of red, and he gave me this." She held it up and squinted at the label. "Apparently, it's one of your favorites. Or at least used to be."

Why would Silas share this kind of information with a vampire hunter, unless he was under duress?

Not that he cared much for Silas himself. But the boy, Jared, always waved as he passed by. And the girl, Brigette, liked to play music... And if there was one thing Caldric knew was important in the world, it was music.

"Are they... You haven't hurt his family, have you?" Caldric asked.

Her eyes widened, and then her brow furrowed. That looked like an expression of surprise, or confusion. Something that he had once been far too familiar with. "What kind of monster do you take me for?"

"I have experienced the wrath of vampire hunters," Caldric replied curtly. "I know how the lines blur in the heat of battle and how the red mist descends..."

"I can assure you there were no blurred lines or red mists," the vampire hunter said. "Only coffee and walnut cake, and Victoria sponge. And tea. So many cups of tea." She placed her hand on her stomach. Was she truly going to ask to use his bathroom as a way to gain entry into his house?

"And somehow all this tea drinking ended with this bottle of wine." He jabbed his finger at the bottle in her hand.

"Yes." She nodded.

"And you believe I will help you in exchange for this bottle?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head. "This is simply to get me through the door."

"So you can drive a stake through my heart for my sleight?" Caldric raised an eyebrow.

"Sleight?" She frowned. "I'm sorry, you've lost me there."

"For saying no to your request for help."

"Caldric," she said. "If I drove a stake through the heart of every vampire that said no to my requests, there would be no vampires left to hunt."

"So, why are you here?" Caldric asked.

"Can I come in?"

Caldric eyed her for a moment. She was bold, that was for sure.

"Why not?" Caldric stepped back and opened the door wider.

So what if she was here to drive a stake through his heart? If nothing else, it would end this unfeeling tedium.

"Thank you." She stepped inside, her gaze immediately assessing, looking for another exit should she get trapped.

"The kitchen is this way." He closed the front door and swept past her, inhaling the scent of her. She was intoxicating. Vampire hunters had the most delicious aroma surrounding them. He'd always put it down to the adrenaline always pumping through their veins.

There was nothing as sweet as vampire hunter blood, laced with a lashing of adrenalin.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. He could almost imagine how delicious she would be. In fact, for just a moment, he could.

Strange. That was a first in as long as he could remember.

She glanced up, and he flicked his eyes away, thinking of something else before he tried to find the feeling again. He probably shouldn't be caught staring hungrily at her.

Beethoven.

As they headed along a hallway, with Aralyn close behind him, he played the music in his head, while his fingers tapped out the notes against his thighs.

When they reached the kitchen, he went to the glass cabinet where he stored his rarely used wine glasses. As he took them down, he examined them for dust. Satisfied they were clean, he placed them down on the wide kitchen table he never used.

"Shall I?" He held out his hand for the bottle of red.

"No, I can manage," she replied, then looked around the kitchen. "Corkscrew?"

He looked around for a moment, forgetting where that utensil drawer was. He opened it and swiped away some cobwebs. A second later, he held out the corkscrew to…what was her name? "Here."

"Thanks." She glanced at the dusty corkscrew, though her eyes didn't leave him for more than a moment. Did she ever switch off?

As she took the corkscrew from his hand, their fingers brushed, his cold against her warmth. But she didn't wince or react. Unusual.

Normally, he reviled people.

He suspected Aralyn had plenty of vampiric experience.

What was even stranger was the warmth that lingered on his skin as they pulled away from one another.

As she pulled the cork, he caught the scent of the wine, strawberries and apricots, a reminder of his hometown, of where he grew up. Of a simple life, a life filled with love and laughter, of innocence.

He closed his eyes, savoring those memories, wishing he could go back to those times. Wishing his memories were more complete, that he could feel how he felt when his mother bought him his first piano, with money she'd scrimped and saved while her hands turned red, her skin chapped from taking in other people's laundry.

It was on that first piano he composed his first piece. It was clumsy, lacking in so many ways, but it was his first agonizing step toward his dream of becoming one of the great masters of his art.

"Drink." She thrust a glass of red wine under his nose, and he opened his eyes, aware he'd shown her a vulnerability and she had not taken advantage of it. He really had lost his sense of self-preservation.

Which meant she had not come here for revenge. She still wanted something from him.

"And what are we drinking to?" Caldric asked. "With this very special bottle of wine."

"Us." She raised her glass, her expression unreadable.

"Us." If she were trying to pique his interest, which was just about nigh on impossible, she had wasted a bottle of good red.

"Yes. You and me." She touched her glass to his.

"I already told you I am not going to change my mind about helping you," Caldric told her as he sniffed his wine and swished it around in the glass.

"Oh, I think you will," Aralyn replied. "If the price was right."

"And what is the price?" Caldric asked. "For a man who has everything he can ever need."

"What if I had the only thing you couldn't have?"

"Oh?" Caldric watched her.

"How about having your curse lifted?"

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