“Well, there’s not much, but a bar in town that many people enjoy. I go there a lot, but I shoot pool instead of drinking," I explained.
She nodded, showing me that that’s where she wanted to go. I waited for her to clean up the blood bags then we locked up the shop before walking to the bar that was only a few blocks away.
***PAGE BREAK***
We had started to get into heavy territory as the drinks flowed. The conversation had started out light, talking about Agatha and life in this town. After a spell we had shifted to growing up and then the topic of my mother came into the conversation.
My finger traced the outline of my necklace through my shirt as I let out a sigh, “My mom wasn’t around for much of my life. Dad said she died from some illness shortly after having me. Honestly, I never needed a mom because dad had been there for everything. But–.”
“But there is still a part of you that wonders what it would have been like if she had stayed,” Isadora spoke. Those words explained exactly how I felt, but it was also something I never could admit to myself out of the guilt of it. My dad was wonderful, so wonderful I couldn’t ask for anything more, but it was still something I thought about on occasion.
What if she had been there?
My eyes traveled from the glass to Isadora’s gilded eyes. “You say it like you understand, Isa.”
“My mother also left when I was born. Although, my father wasn’t as kind as yours is. I may get treated like a princess, but my spot has always been on a shelf on a wall that no one could reach. No man was ever good enough and no one was deemed worthy enough to call themselves my friend. Theservants at the house became my friends, but I was still lonely. Although,” she paused before taking the shot in front of her.
I noticed she did that before she said something uncomfortable. It was almost like she was relying on the liquor to be her courage to say what she wanted. I guess that’s why it was known as “liquid courage”. I slid another one her way as I saw her hesitation. Staring at it, she finally continued, “Luce had it way worse than I did. Being pureblooded meant a higher status, but also your status was based on your age of cultivation and—.”
“Wait, what’s cultivation?”
“You noticed how Ambrose and I have gold eyes, right? Well, the younger you are when you cultivate or “grow” your magic, the more vibrant your eyes are. For Luce, he was born with his eyes. That meant he would be the head of the family, but father isn’t ready to give up his position. So, he decides to take out his anger and frustration about the situation on Luce. I had a touch of gold in my eyes at birth even if I didn’t have my magic yet. They were nowhere near Luce’s color, but it was enough to make mom scared that she would die for birthing another powerful heir. I later learned she had killed herself. Too many rules. That’s why I left Shadowhaven.”
“Is that why Agatha left too?”
Isadora nodded, her curls bouncing with each nod. I could see the tears in her eyes and instantly handed her a napkin. Bryon looked over from the bar, as if sensing the distress and our eyes met over the bottle he held up. I knew what he was asking and nodded for confirmation.
We were definitely going to need more alcohol if we were unpacking our pasts and if Isadora was going to tell me more about this “Shadowhaven”. I found myself regretting that I had forgotten most of the stories Agatha had told me. Maybe there was some truth in them after all.
At some point, Isadora took over the jukebox and her bubbly attitude returned. Her hands were on my hips while mine were on her shoulders, dancing to whatever oldies slow dance she had put on. Others had even joined on the makeshift dance floor that she had made. In reality, she just moved some tables to make the space more available.
“Could I ask how old you are?” I asked her just low enough that others couldn’t hear. Isadora chuckled at my nervousness. Honestly, Isadora had won me over almost instantly once she opened up to me. We had a lot of things in common and I felt like I could really call her my friend after today.
“I’m four hundred and three. Ambrose is only a hundred and seventeen years old," she whispered in my ear before giggling in her drunken haze. The song ended then, causing Isadora to clap just as excitedly as she had for the past five songs. The others joined, even Bryon at the bar who had kept his eyes on me all evening. After a few minutes passed, I noticed the others leaving before the bar only contained the three of us.
“Maybe we should head home,” I suggested to Isadora as she swayed against me. “I can drive you b—.”
Bryon vaulted over the bar before I could finish my sentence and snatched the car keys I produced. I let out a cry of frustration before stretching to grab them from the hand he held out of my reach. Isadora’s giggling reignited as she saw me struggle to grab my keys back. Deciding to jump for it, I pushed off the floor, but failed in grabbing them and managed to slip as I landed. Bryon was quick to catch me, but as he pulled me against him I felt my body grow hotter from the lack of space between us.
“Thanks for the save,” I breathed.
He nodded. “Any time.”
I could feel his heart hammering against my skin, no doubt he was able to feel the same thing from me. Isadora clapped once, startling us apart from one another. “Well, I will walk home. Bartender Bryon, you should definitely drive Mel home for me.”
“Walk? But you’re even drunker than I am,” I slurred. “Can you even walk in a straight line?”
With a brow raised at the challenge, Isadora turned to her right and followed the line of the flooring perfectly straight in her heels. Was this a vampire metabolism thing? Bryon didn’t question it as he led us out of the bar, pausing only to lock up, and helped me into his car.
At some point, I had fallen asleep on the ride home and woke up only briefly to empty the contents of my stomach in a nearby bush while Bryon tried to help me into my house. I should have noted how unfazed Bryon had been of Isa’s soberness, but I couldn’t absorb much in my drunken haze.
“Where’s your dad?” Bryon asked as he led me up to my room. Something stirred in me as we approached my awful pink painted door.
“He might be working on the cattle.”
“I remember when I helped you paint this door before your dad got back from the store,” he mused as I twisted the matching pink door handle. Pink hadn’t been my color since my phase in high school, but I never bothered to change the door or the knob.
“He definitely was pissed about it, but he always had a soft spot for you,” I commented. Bryon watched me intently as I went into my bathroom, but didn’t bother to follow. After showering, brushing my teeth and changing, Bryon was still there. “Are you staying the night?” I teased.
