I lift the knocker on the ancient wooden door and bang it a few times. No response. I wait a moment, listening for movement, and bang it again. Maybe she’s sleeping off jet lag. Though I’m a little surprised. She’s so energetic, I thought she’d bounce back from the trip and get right back to work. I pull out my phone. Still no response to my texts. She’s usually a quick responder. I hope she’s okay.
I leave the flowers by the front door and head home, my limbs heavier with every step.
Boz
I am back at Castle Sangria, which appears to be vampire-hunter-free now. My sweep of both properties upon my arrival revealed that all is quiet. No sign of the mercenaries, and Stella’s attic is spotless save for some old boxes of family photos and broken glass on the wood floor.
Oops. I had a bit of trouble with that sticky window.
Otherwise, Neli has done a great job dealing with the issue. Very good news because I must prepare to make the grandest of gestures to woo my mate. It is all my doing, not Neli’s. She left France before I could get her assistance with my gesture, letting me know by text that she was worried about Stella, so she went home ahead of our party to check on her. I appreciate the fact that Neli takes my mate’s protection seriously.
Speaking of Neli, where is that girl? She has not been answering the Summoner, and I’ve checked her rooms and the kitchen. Perhaps this is like the last time she didn’t answer my repeated texts. She wants me to have alone time with Stella to accomplish my gesture on my own. I don’t need my Neli, I mean, my…servant to speak for me.
I know it is wrong, but I cannot let Neli go. We are family.
But now I must secure my mate before she closes her heart permanently against me. First, as is proper, I must go to her father to ask for her hand in marriage. Then I will go to Stella and seduce…no, I will express my love and my sincere desire to share a future as equals as per issue No. 62, 1973, of Psychology Today. I am fully prepared to love a modern woman as a modern man (with centuries of experience). Yes, let’s not dwell on my age. It is just a number, after all, according to many informative internet articles.
I dress in my white collared shirt—the modern one—that brings a healthy glow to my skin, my favorite black leather pants, and my finest black leather shoes. Just a spritz of fresh pine scent, and I am prepared to take the first step toward my destiny. I refuse to believe Stella will ruin me as the curse says. No one as sweet as my mate could ever do anything but worship and adore me unconditionally for eternity.
It is dark as I approach her family’s house. The light is on in Stella’s room, so I know she’s home. In my eagerness, I speed to the front door and knock three times for luck. Not that I believe in luck. I create my destiny.
Her bloodhound raises hell from somewhere inside the house, her old claws scrabbling on the hardwood as she races to the door. I was careful to rinse my mouth with fine wine after my evening snack, but bloodhounds can sniff out blood almost as well as vampires. I should have brought a distracting bone.
The door opens to Stella’s mother. “Oh, hello, Boz, so nice to see you. Please, come in.”
I step inside, pleased by the reception. “I received your flowers and note. Thank you.” The dog growls at me, baring her fangs. I remind myself not to rise to the occasion. My fangs are much scarier.
“So sorry about Sadie,” she says, pulling her back by the collar. “I’ll just put her in my office. She’s extra protective since we got home. I guess she missed us.”
Stella’s twin sisters wave at me from the living room, where they’re watching the TV. “Hi, Boz!” they call in near unison.
“Hello, Mabel and Eliza. Is your father home?” I can’t tell the twins apart. Though they dress differently, they still look exactly alike. I will get Neli on that. It’s important I know Stella’s family members.
“Yeah,” one of them says. “Dad!”
Stella’s father appears at the top of the stairs and heads down to greet me in the foyer. “I thought I heard you, Boz. Would you like a drink?”
“That sounds good, thank you,” I say, following him to the kitchen.
Stella’s mother goes out the back door with Sadie.
“What can I get you?” her father asks. “We’ve got wine, of course, beer, lemonade—”
“Actually, while it’s just the two of us, I’d very much like to talk to you about a serious matter.”