“Did you call to harass me, Vincent?”
“I called because I’m worried about you.”
I rolled my eyes, moved away from the window in the grand room, and headed to the kitchen to bring my now-empty mug to the sink. “Worrying is ridiculous.”
“Could you at least try while you’re there?”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“I was doing some research about Brookridge, and they have this kickass ice cream parlor called Cone Creations. They literally design scenes with ice cream.”
I moved about the house. Slowly, the staff were opening it back up and making it more…livable.
“You’re using my love for ice cream to lure me out of my dwelling?”
“Is it working?” He chuckled.
“I have to go; I’m currently watching some imbecile try to lift a statue that is two hundred pounds to his one fifty. I don’t need a corpse on my property so soon.”
“So soon…or ever, Lukas. Don’t kill anyone!”
“Bye, Vincent.” I disconnected the call and swiftly moved to the one-of-a-kind sculpture made for me by Gian Lorenzo Bernini himself.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The slight man turned and made a “meep” sound. “Sorry, Mr. Farren. I was told this had to be brought to the other side of the room.”
I regarded him from head to toe. “And you thought you could do it with your puny muscles and vigor?”
“What? I…”
I waved him away. “I will handle this myself. If it breaks, I can’t bring the artist back to life to make me a new one. Go find something else to do that is more fitting to your…strength.”
The man ran as fast as his pathetic human legs could take him, and I brought my attention to the sculpture. It was of a man, once full of joy, laughing as he held a goblet in his hand. It annoyed me as much as it honored me.
Bernini had made it for me as a gift, and it came with me everywhere I moved. Where I’d once looked upon it with joy, I now only wished I could feel that happiness again.
“Mr. Farren, would you like me to gather the staff for you to meet them?” my butler, who also worked for the council, asked. I didn’t know his name, but he was human.
“Later.”
“Very good, sir.”
My staff, along with Vincent’s, and that of all other vampires, worked for the council. Their families were faithful servants, loyal. I’d gone through many in my four hundred and fifty years as a vampire. I’d once gotten attached, craving their company. Now, I chose not to. Their time on Earth was fleeting, and I was tired of saying goodbye.
I made my way up to the master suite. It was as opulent as the rest of the estate. The bed was a masterpiece of dark wood with sheets of crimson and a black duvet. I knew before sitting on it that it was insanely comfortable.
My art was slowly arriving, and some was on the walls in here. I remembered acquiring each piece, the stories behind them, and the eager artists who’d given them to me. I sat in one of the Bergère chairs that were in the reading nook. Outside the window I could see seagulls flying by, waves lapping against the shore, the sun making the water glisten like a thousand diamonds.
I pressed my palm to the window, the warmth lingering on my skin but never staying. Folklore would make humans believe vampires were allergic to the sun, garlic, holy water…and that was a lie. Stakes could not kill us, nor would fire. The onlyweapon that could extinguish a vampire was a sword made from magic, and only if wielded by the council.
If a vampire wanted to leave this world, they had to break our laws or obtain the council’s permission. If permission was granted, punishment was swift and your name struck from all histories, forgotten, banished; there was an entire ceremony. In my lifetime, I’d only seen one ceremony, a female vampire who had asked to be turned to ash. Her heart was broken, she’d loved a man and had been with him for sixty years. He hadn’t wanted to be turned as her eternal companion, and after he’d died, she’d refused to eat, to do anything. While not drinking blood couldn’t kill a vampire, it would hibernate them and was painful.
For seventy years she’d suffered from his loss, and finally the council had granted her wish to join him in the afterlife.
I’d tried starving myself, but I wasn’t a fan of the pain. I wasn’t a fan of anything, honestly. I just wanted it to end. I’d seen everything. Nothing thrilled me anymore. I knew Vincent was worried about me, and while it felt hopeless, I’d exist and continue to ask the council to grant me my peace.
I had to give it time…and I had a lot of that.
