Chapter Seven: Caldric

Caldric had lived a long life. Or death, rather. But this had to be up there with one of the strangest experiences of his life.

If he had emotion, he might be scared for his life as he held the vampire hunter in his arms, the various stakes in her belt digging into his hip as they pirouetted around the room.

As they moved, quick, quick, slow, the sound of the music seeped into his bones, and he lightened his steps, rising and falling as they flowed across the room. It was like an echo of his old life was returning to him.

"Sorry," Aralyn muttered a breathless apology as she stepped on his foot for the fourth time.

"Didn't feel a thing." He tightened his hold on her and guided her around the room, repeating the steps until she mastered them. Even though he had danced these steps countless times, he didn't mind going over them again and again. Even if he had been capable of feeling boredom, he was certain that he wouldn't have minded.

When at last the music ended, and the needle lifted on the gramophone, they continued dancing for another turn of the room.

"Excellent," he praised.

"It wasn't hard to get the hang of it once I figured it's similar to my training," Aralyn replied, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath, while her blood pulsed in her neck.

He licked his lips, wanting a taste. "Your training?" he asked, to distract himself from the sweet scent of her.

There was something about vampire hunters. Perhaps they intentionally made themselves so irresistible so they could draw in their prey.

"Yes." She pulled away from him and raised her hands. "It's like the forms my teachers taught me for combat. Fluid movements, precise footwork, staying light on your toes." Aralyn demonstrated a graceful fighting stance, her body coiled with potential energy.

Caldric watched, mesmerized by her movements. "I see the similarity," he murmured. "Though I doubt your teachers intended those skills to be used for ballroom dancing," Caldric said with a wry smile.

Aralyn continued moving around the room. "No, I suppose not. I'm sure more than one of them would turn in their grave if they knew. But it's nice to use them for something other than...well…"

"...hunting," Caldric finished for her.

Aralyn's movements slowed, and she turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "Yes. Hunting."

"So they never taught you to dance?" Caldric asked as he crossed the room to the gramophone.

"No, they didn't believe it was a necessary part of my training, believe it or not," Aralyn replied as she dropped her hands to her sides. "But then they also would not have thought we could end up in the situation we find ourselves."

"Indeed," Caldric said with a nod, not sure if she meant dancing with her family's sworn enemy or infiltrating the Tolioni family to retrieve something that should never have been lost.

"So, the music." She hovered at his shoulder as he lifted the needle and carefully removed the vinyl record before slipping it back into its protective sleeve.

"What about the music?" he asked.

"I've never heard anything like it."

"For someone who spends a lot of time around vampires, you don't know much about us," Caldric said as he turned his back to her.

"I know where they hide, how to track them, how to fend them off."

Caldric tilted his head. "But nothing about their culture, then. Well, be careful what you say, as you're in the company of the composer of this particular piece."

"You composed it? Were you playing it?" She nodded to the vinyl sleeve in his hand.

"Yes." He smoothed his hand across the paper sleeve, worn and faded. It belonged to another time. And in some ways, another person.

"Do you still play?" She turned on her heel and ran her hand over the smooth polished wood of the grand piano that sat in the center of the room. "It would explain what this is doing here."

In those dark days at the beginning of his curse, as the joy of music faded, he'd covered it with a white sheet. It had stood there like a ghost from his past, a constant reminder that he was not whole and would never be whole again.

But those feelings had soon faded, like all his feelings. And so he'd uncovered it, out of habit more than anything else.

Each day he'd seated himself on the piano stool and placed his fingers on the keys, willing the music to flow through him once more. But the melody remained stubbornly out of reach, trapped within him like so much else.

"Not like I used to," Caldric admitted, expecting a lump to form in his throat. It was as if the pain and loss of something precious to him danced just beyond his reach.

"Why?" Aralyn rounded the curve of the piano and lifted the lid off the keys, revealing the gleaming ivory and ebony keys beneath. Her fingers hovered over them, not quite touching.

"I lost…the ability," Caldric said, moving to stand beside her. "The music...it left me."

Aralyn's brow furrowed. "Left you?"

Caldric hesitated, his fingers tracing the edge of the piano. "I lost the ability to feel the music," he said softly. "To truly connect with it."

"Because of the curse?" she whispered.

"Because of the curse." A smile flittered across his lips. "But perhaps..." Caldric trailed off, his eyes fixed on the piano keys.

Aralyn leaned closer, her warmth radiating against his cool skin. "Perhaps what?"

He met her gaze, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes. "Perhaps we should go and look at dresses."

"Dresses?" Aralyn closed the lid over the keys as she hurriedly followed him across the room. "It's still dark outside. No dress shops will be open."

"We don't need a shop," Caldric replied.

"We don't?" Aralyn asked, her voice tinged with confusion as she hurried to keep pace with Caldric's long strides. "Don't tell me when the music left you, you took up dressmaking?"

"No, I am no seamstress," Caldric replied a hint of amusement in his voice. "But I do have a collection."

"A collection." He sensed her shudder. No doubt this vampire hunter was judging him harshly, believing that he kept the dresses of his victims as some kind of trophy.

"Yes, a collection." He led her from the room and down a corridor that opened out into a hallway with a sweeping staircase.

"Up there?" She sounded nervous for the first time since she'd entered his house.

"Where else would I keep them?" he purred.

The stairs they took creaked loudly, and the dust was so thick that they left footprints. Had it really been so long since Caldric had visited some of the wings of his own manor? His world had shrunk. Not only had he locked himself away from the outside world, but he had consigned himself to such a small part of his own home.

He could see how that would drive anyone else crazy, but for him, it was as natural as anything else. After all, there was nothing more for him anywhere else than in the round hall and the living room. That was perhaps until now.

Caldric turned the handle of the door and pushed it, but it didn't budge, the hinges having rusted shut.

"Hm. I suppose I haven't been up here for a while." He turned to Aralyn.

"Allow me." Aralyn moved past him and almost as naturally as taking a normal step slammed her boot into the door, busting it open.

"An unconventional way of opening doors," Caldric remarked as he stepped inside.

The smell of must and memories sat heavy in this room. He had a nagging feeling that he should take some time to revel in nostalgia, to marvel at the time gone and meditate on the past. Logically, that should have been his next action. To ask Aralyn to give him a private moment.

But instead, he headed across the room and unceremoniously opened the large wardrobe that took up the space of an entire wall.

"What is this room for?" Aralyn asked as she looked around in the middle of the room. "A collection? Of what?"

"Memories, I suppose." Caldric had to force the door to the wardrobe open. "It's not uncommon for vampires to have a collection of items of importance from throughout their life. Especially of their lives before they were turned."

"Are these all theater programs?" Aralyn sifted through an old wooden filing cabinet.

"Yes," Caldric said as he sorted through the various hung garments. Luckily, most of the dust had been kept out by the wardrobe.

"You went a lot , huh? I've never been myself." Aralyn moved across the room, looking over a cartography table, his bookshelf of music theory, and a collection of tribal masks, before stopping at the huge portrait that hung in the center of the far wall, dominating the collection. "Who's she?" Aralyn asked.

"My late sister." Caldric made it past the hangers carrying formal wear and exotic uniforms, feeling the silk of beautifully made dresses upon his fingers. "And fortuitously, you and she are about the same size."

"That doesn't bother you?" Aralyn looked at him dubiously. "Me wearing your sister's dress?"

"No." He carefully pulled out a crimson dress. The satin material flowed beautifully, like liquid, just as it always had. He could still see how it cascaded around Demi as she danced and twirled, surrounded by red ribbons, the most striking participant in any ball they attended.

Aralyn was right. It really should bother him to allow a total stranger, and a vampire hunter at that, to use something so sacred for her own ends.

But it was to his own ends as well. Demi always talked about how Caldric could see the beauty in living, and he was renowned for putting that into music. This could be the only way for him to find that once again. Demi would surely want that as well. She was always good at putting others first and being kind when no one else would.

He could feel Aralyn watching him as he thought, waiting for him to say something, to elaborate. But he didn't owe her that much. He would see their deal through, so that he could return to enjoying life, to pursuing his passions. And he knew exactly what he was going to do as soon as his heart was unfrozen.

"Here." He held out the dress to her. "You should try it on. We don't want to find out too late if we need to make adjustments."

"Now?"

Caldric nodded.

"Here?"

"As good a place as any, no?"

She dubiously took the dress, her nose wrinkling.

"You don't like it?" Caldric wondered if it was perhaps a bit outdated in style.

"No, it's beautiful. It's just a bit musty." She paused. "How long has this been in there?"

"Well, since Demi passed on. Many, many years ago."

"Was she a vampire, too?"

Caldric shook his head. "No. She lived a long, mortal life. And if you hope to do the same, we better carry on with our preparations for the ball."

"All right, point taken." She glanced around, heading to the privacy screen in the corner of the room.

Caldric turned back to the wardrobe, sorting through his old suits and formal wear. He wouldn't have to worry whether any of his clothes still fit him. Vampires were unchanging, after all. He just might have to get them cleaned if Aralyn was going to pull a face every time she was near him.

The first was a plain tuxedo-style outfit. Far too modern. The second had all the frills and white stockings of the Renaissance. It would be fitting, but when he used to go with a partner to the Tolioni Ball, he always made sure to match something to them. He couldn't remember whether it was mandatory or not.

After another few moments of searching, he found a red dress shirt and a white tie to go with it. He spent some time looking at the pairing. Once upon a time, he would have intuitively known whether it was right or not. He remembered doing so, such as that time he put together his famous Ivory Command outfit—a white tailcoat with gold epaulettes taking center stage. But now, they were just garments, pieces of colored fabric sewn together with no deeper meaning.

"Well, it fits." Aralyn's voice came from behind him. "I think I've got it on right. I see why wealthy women had so many people to help them dress back then. These things are like Mensa puzzles."

"Demi seemed to manage all…" His breath caught in his throat as he turned and saw Aralyn. For a moment he thought he was dying, then that perhaps he had swallowed a spider. But as his eyes moved over the laced bodice, to her pale skin showing from the sweetheart neckline that reflected the red of the dress. Even though she hadn't fastened everything correctly, the dress was a little off-kilter on her, and her damp, unkempt hair clung to her face. It made him feel something.

It had been so long that he wasn't even sure what word to put to the emotion, and so fleeting that it left him breathless for a moment.

"Everything all right?" Aralyn said in a stand-offish way, as if he had just had a violent change of heart.

Caldric coughed. "Of course."

He turned his back to her, not sure everything would be all right ever again.

Since the moment he'd set eyes on this vampire hunter, the death knell of his quiet life of solitude and introspection had sounded.

And he suspected there was no going back.