“Thank you.” I walk off, only grasping what I’ve said when I’m halfway to the second floor.
MinervafuckingMorris, I look forward to the day I can torture you in Hell.
The second floor is made up of closed off rooms, but I spot Richard and Seira near one of the exhibit entrances. Stepping in, I find we’re on a balcony overlooking the first floor. A few party guests mingle about below us, oblivious to the three of us above. Richard is studying a bronze statue encased in glass.
“Not exactly private up here, Richard,” I mutter.
“Sound travels up,” he says, not looking away from the statue. He rocks back on his heels, slipping his hands into his pockets. Averycasual display–overdoing it, really. “So, let’s work backward. What do you want from me?”
“Your soul.”
“That’s all?”
“Assuming you bloodsuckers have one.”
Richard tilts his head in thought. “I can’t imagine why we wouldn’t. We are sort of undead, yes, but no one has ever died andcome backas a vampire. I was very much alive when I was turned, and I’m alive now. In a sense.” He looks over his shoulder at Seira, who has her arms crossed. “Do you think I have a soul, dear?”
Seira scoffs, and I expect–nay,want–a snarky rebuttal. Instead, she responds, “I feed off you, and you’re capable of both vice and virtue. I highly doubt soulless people can make such distinctions.” Her tone is half mocking, and she’s looking right at me. The other succubi I’ve worked with aren’t thrilled by me, either, but Seira seems especially pissed off by my presence.
“Then we’re settled. You want my soul? Have it.” He opens up his arms as if offering himself. “Didn’t even realize I had one ‘til now.”
“You haven’t even told me what it is you want,” I point out. “I’m not a thief. This is an exchange at the end of the day.”
“It’s funny…I’mlooking to gain someone’s soul as well.” He smiles, exposing his fangs. “Not literally. Not as literally as you, at least. But there’s this girl–” Seira flinches behind him. “She was mine for a long time, but she slipped through my grasp, and now she wants nothing to do with me. It’s like being turned a second time, over and over again.”
I try to keep my face neutral. What he’s asking for isn’t uncommon–everything is so overdone. Undying fidelity from one person. Simple, yet I feel uneasy. “Enlighten me. Why don't you try to seduce her? You’ve succeeded once before.”
Richard scoffs then runs his fingers through his black hair. “Like I said, she wants nothing to do with me. Threatens to kill me every time she sees me. It’s not an empty threat, either. She’s a werewolf, could kill me easily. You understand?”
There’s some woman out there with a fire inside of her that I have to extinguish. Which, now that I think about it, why do I care? I don’t know her. Even if I did, she'soneperson. I’m overthinking this, like I did with Minnie. And look where that got me.
“So that’s all?” I ask, making sure I have the measure of things “You want this girl to love y–”
“Tocraveme,” Richard interrupts. “I want her to need me like water, just as I need the blood of others.”
For the first time I understand him. Utter devotion. The object of your desire beneath you in every manner, clinging to your essence. “Tell me more about this girl.”
Richard goes on and on about his Sara. I need to know her name and age, make sure the contract is talking about the right Sara–which, when her name is older than me, can get a little complicated. I asked him what she looks like: light green eyes, light brown hair, light skin, light body. Uninteresting, except for the part where all I can picture in my mind is Seira.
Yet, he’s not satisfied. His desire for Sara is so pervasive it turns into need. For a vampire, he’s got a devil’s heart.
“Well?” he asks.
I’m standing with my arms crossed, humming to myself. “I need some time to think. Do you mind?”
“Please.” He waves his hand. “I’m immortal; time has no value to me.”
“Not immortal,” I point out. “Trapped in time, so I see why it has no value.”
I leave and wander through the galleries, still not quite grasping this whole art thing. All the figures look the same, with their big dresses and military uniforms. Sometimes, there's a horse. The chapel downstairs, while much too righteous for my taste, at least painted Minnie’s face in brilliant colors.
She’s the only art I’ve seen thus far.
In one of the galleries, a voice interrupts my solitude. “Do you find this art strange?” I look over my shoulder and find Seira stepping toward me, her heels clicking against the floor. “You’re not one of them, you know.”
“What?”
“You’re not mortal. You’re not even half-mortal like me.”
