Chapter 5
Piper
Iwas sweating buckets and I was sure that Count Boris Whatchamajig could smell it with every step I took. The master vampire had moved his arm from around my shoulders, thankfully to escorting me by the arm like a real gentleman. Not that I would ever use that word in the same sentence as Boris. He might act the quirky foreigner, but from my masters' caution of him and his rapid punishment of Theresa, I wasn't fooled. He was a monster. A killer. Everything I had expected my masters to be and more.
He'd made Valentine after all.
Then again, in that line of thought, Boris had made all of my masters. Does that mean they were evil in some way as well? Or are they good despite their upbringing? Ugh. My head hurt.
"And this would be the drawing room." Boris waved an arm at a room with chairs and no art equipment whatsoever.
"Where's the drawing stuff?" I inquired, before I could stop myself and then stiffened as Boris quieted.
"You know...I never quite thought of that. I suppose it wasn't always called a drawing room. Once, it was called a withdrawing room, some place to go with your guests to have privacy. Even to meet with the king, but that was then." He leaned in close to me as if we were the best of friends sharing a secret. "We must come up with a new name for this room before you leave. Yes?" I nodded quickly. "Good. Now, where else can I show you? Ah." He turned toward a set of double doors. "Here is the library. Do you like to read?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but Marcus grunted behind me. I shot a glance to him, but whatever message he was trying to convey with his Neanderthal grunts was lost on me. I turned back to the count and said, "I admit I don't read as much as I should. Mostly, I read lighter things, like—"
"Romance?" Boris finished for me with a twinkle in those blood-red eyes. The amusement on his face made me almost forget who he was and where I was, but then one look at those long fangs and I remembered.
Swallowing thickly, I nodded. "Yeah. Yes. Romances. I was never the best student."
Boris laughed and patted my hand. "Never fear dear, your secret is safe with me, and of course Marcus. Isn't that right, boy?" He glanced over his shoulder at Marcus who was three of Boris put together. The very fact that Boris called Marcus—the behemoth of a man—a boy, wasn't lost on me. It was hilarious in an ironic, dark sort of way. One that I didn't want to think about much right now.
Marcus didn't grunt in response as I expected, but in a low, gravelly voice that did weird things to my insides, replied, "Yes, master."
"See?" Boris turned back to me with a grin. "Perfectly safe." His lips dipped down for a moment as Marcus pulled open the library door for us. "However, I do not think the kinds of romance I have would suit your needs. Most of my collection are from my travels and many aren't even in English. You know, I have one of the original copies ofA Midsummer Night's Dreamwritten by the Shakespeare himself."
My mouth dropped open in surprise and I couldn't help the excitement that filled me. "Really? Did you meet him?"
"Oh yes." Boris inclined his head with a joyful look on his face. "William was quite the poet, but also a drunkard. He never could get his words out right because of all the drink he'd indulged in the night before. If not for his friend Francis, he would never have gotten anything out at all."
Astonished by the story, I wondered at the ability to have actually been places and met people who no one could say they knew. I could just imagine going back in time and meeting my favorite singers and writers in the prime of their life. To have lived for so long and to have met so many people...I envied him and his long life. Then, I remembered mine was long now as well. A hundred years from now, if Antoine still lived, then I would still be exactly as I am now. I could see history change right before my eyes.
"You don't sound Russian." The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could think better of them.
Amusement filled Boris's eyes before he led us into the library. "I'm glad you say so. I have worked hard to perfect the modern American accent. It makes blending in with the local populous so much easier."
I stared at him for a moment, wondering how to ask the next question. But there was no need. The look on my face apparently said everything and Boris laughed once more.
"Do not look so skeptical, Piper. People believe what they want to believe." I didn't like the way the master vampire said my name. It felt like worms twisting inside of me, trying to get out.
"And what do they believe?" I glanced back at Marcus. He walked closely behind us, but not close enough to help if Boris suddenly turned feral.
"Here, let us rest." Boris brought us to a sitting area in the middle of the library and offered me a seat. I happily released his arm and sat down, only to wish I was standing once more when he sat beside me, his thigh pressing against mine. Marcus didn't sit. Nor did Boris ask him to. He stood there like a handsome statue waiting for his next command.
"In this modern age, it isn't unlikely for someone such as myself to wander down the streets." Boris gave me a full-fanged smile. "Society has learned to not question the weird or unusual lest you offend someone. They're more worried about getting sued for questioning me than for their own safety." He laughed in such a way that my feet shifted beneath me, urging me to run. "They'd call my unique features a fad. Or maybe even a deformity. Some might even say I was trendy." He used air quotes, as if it were the most normal thing for a thousand-year-old vampire to do.
I hummed and put up a brave face. "I could see that. Books and television have really desensitized the masses."
Boris scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Ugh. Television. Movies. Vampires that sparkle. Or explode into a bucket of blood. Can you imagine? What will they think of next?"
Either I was brain-dead or had a total disregard for my own survival, but the next question was out of my mouth before I could decide which. "What does happen?"
Boris gave me a sideways look.
Clearing my throat, I looked at Marcus and then back to Boris. "When you die. I mean."
Boris leaned forward, a smile spreading across his lips. "Why, my dear, are you planning on killing one of us?"