Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“You know what they say about old souls,” he says. “If they aren’t vampires, it generally means they’ve gone through a lot of trauma. Any child who is told they’re an old soul, or seem old for their age, is no doubt because they had to grow up fast, that they had to experience more than most adults ever will.”
“And how are you making that conclusion?” I ask. “Was that you in your youth?”
Bitrus shrugs, having another sip of his wine as he glances at me over his sunglasses. I don’t talk about my beginnings any more than he does. There’s an understanding with vampires that generally the further back you go into their past, the unhappier it gets, so it tends to be a topic of avoidance.
“Perhaps,” he says. “I was told I was an old soul, but only when I left Nigeria, in my twenties. When people weren’t used to seeing those who had been displaced by war. But when I was younger, as the British took over Sokoto, every child looked like me. Every child was an old soul. Every child had to grow up fast, had seen things most others wouldn’t.”
“When was this war again?” I ask, trying to remember my history of the area.
“Early 1900s,” he says. “You know I am young compared to you.” He gives me a bright smile. Then his smile fades and he has another sip of his wine. “It wasn’t until I moved away and went through my transition that I felt I moved past it all. Sometimes I wonder how much easier it would have been to have gone through all of that as a vampire. I knew what I was, the people we lived and traveled with were vampires too, but when you’re still human and young…I think you feel everything more.”
I don’t say anything to that. Just close my eyes and let the warm breeze wash over me. He really is still young. Only been on this planet for just over a hundred years. The first hundred years after I lost Mina were the hardest. I had lost my mind and gained a terrible reputation.
“But anyway,” he says, sitting up straighter. “We are not here to discuss the sad stories of my youth. We were discussing this girl, who may or may not have a sad story of her own.”
“Well, she’s human,” I say to him, picking up my wine glass and swirling the burgundy liquid around, “and humans are born into suffering. They spend their short lives either trying to run from it or rise from it. As for Dahlia, she’s got her baggage, but what it is I don’t know. I can’t figure her out.”
“You’ll go mad trying to,” he says. “I know you, Val. You have that look in your eyes, when you start getting possessive and obsessed and can’t let something go.”
“Have you ever seen me that way around a person? I don’t think so.”
“Not a person, no. Not a vampire either. But when you get an idea, like the idea you had to open the Red Room right inside the very school you got a job at, well you didn’t let go of that idea until it was done. You get possessed.”
“I’m not possessed, I’m merely curious.”
Bitrus grunts as if he doesn’t believe me and finishes the rest of his wine.
“Want some more?” I ask him.
“I better not,” he says with a dismissive wave. “Need to think clearly tonight.”
“Oh? Do tell…”
“I met someone,” he says hesitantly.
“Well, look at that. You’re giving me grief over Dahlia and you’re the one who has met someone…are they vampire or human?”
“Vampire,” he says.
“So then I’ve seen them at the Red Room.”
“You have,” he says. “They’re quiet though. You probably wouldn’t have noticed.”
“I notice everything, Bitrus. What do they look like?”
“Tall. Handsome. White dreads. Like a male version of Storm.”
There aren’t many black vampires with white dreads frequenting the Red Room. I know who he is right away. “Sebastian?”
“Yeah. But he goes by Bash. Anyway, it’s nothing, just wanted some company and he’s up for the same. Doesn’t know many people, you know.”
“Bitrus and Bash,” I muse. “You sound like a sitcom. Or a clothing label. Either way, you sound good together.”
“Oh, come off it. It isn’t serious. I just want a bit of fun.”
“And you deserve it,” I remind him. Bitrus was married to a woman, a human, for quite a long time, until she died in a car accident. It was sudden and tragic and though it happened about ten years ago, I haven’t seen him get involved with many others since.
“So, where are you planning on taking Bash for your date?”
“It’s not a date,” he says. “And I don’t know. He’s new in town so I figured we can do the touristy things.”
Just like Dahlia. I can’t help but think of where I would take her if I ever did take her up on her offer. Lead her by a collar right into my bedroom, I guess.