There’s a sharp rap on the window to get my attention.
Reluctantly, I slide my eyes back up to her.
‘Damian!’ she calls out. ‘Please let me in. My hair.’ She points to her long locks, which are admittedly getting severely tangled in the wind, and pulls a mournful face.
I chuckle a bit at that, albeit with a tinge of hysteria. Florence wants me to let her in because her hair is getting messy.
She grins when she sees me smile and presses her palmstogether in a praying motion. ‘Pretty please,’she mouths.
Fuck it,I think.What’s the worst that can happen?
Duh, being eaten alive by a vampire woman—that’s what!says my common sense, which is desperately trying to claw its way to the surface of the whisky lake of my mind.But surely, if she wanted to kill me, she would have done so by now?I reason. I’ll take my chances.
A gust of wind and rain hits me in the face as I heave up the sash window as far as it will go.
Florence sinks down to ledge level and hovers there.What is she waiting for?
‘You have to invite me in,’ she says.
‘Oh.’ So that rule does actually exist. ‘Florence Hughes, please come into my room,’ I intone solemnly.And please don’t eat me,I add silently.
Stepping aside from the window, I gape as she slithers through and lands lightly on my bedroom floor. I inch backwards, my heart thumping in my chest.Shit, I’ve done it now.
Florence closes the window and looks at the puddle of water she’s making on the floorboards, then at me. ‘Sorry, I’m dripping,’ she says.
‘Don’t move. I’ll get you a towel.’
In the bathroom, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, and my eyes are unusually bright—Iactually look pleased that I’m entertaining a vampire. I give myself a stinging slap.Snap out of it, youfool!
My cheek smarting, I drag a clean towel from the cupboard and scurry back to my room.
‘Here you go.’
‘Thanks.’ Florence takes the towel and winds it around her shoulders, dabbing at her face. Her black leggings and long-sleeved black T-shirt are sopping. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her wear modern clothing.
I don’t suppose she’ll catch her death, but it’s polite to ask.
‘Do you want a change of clothes?’
‘Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.’
Busily, I fetch a clean pair of grey joggers and a plain white T-shirt. I consider adding a pair of boxers too, but that would be weird.
‘Bathroom’s through there. Have a hot shower if you like,’ I hear myself saying. ‘Or a cold one, if that’s what you prefer. I don’t know how it works ...’ I throw up my hands helplessly.
‘It’s either or depending on my mood,’ she says, giving me a quick smile. ‘But thanks. I might, just to freshen up.’
I hop back into bed, switch on my bedside light, and listen to the water running and the sound of humming.
There’s a naked vampire in my shower, I thinkwondrously. It feels surreal.
When Florence comes back in, she’s wearing my clothes, her hair is slicked back (she’s used my comb!), and she’s towelling it dry. She sits at my desk and swivels in the chair. I’m transfixed, unable to tear my eyes off her. But she seems unconcerned at the attention and checks out the titles in my bookcase. She indicates my copy ofInterview with the Vampire.
‘Nice,’ she says, looking over at me with a grin.
I smile weakly and wedge myself deeper into my pillow.Dammit, I don’t even have a crucifix ...
‘How did you find out where I live?’ I ask.
