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Sometimes an overheard piece of conversation can spark a new one. If you're not interrupted.
Flames danced in the fireplace. In the soft light, Amilia"s flaxen hair glowed like a halo. Calla"s locks resembled a cascade of liquid fire.
Earlier during the evening, the men (or vampires, if so preferred) had retired to the study, so the women were passing their time playing cards. The night was promising to become quite an uneventful one.
“I"m not the bloody count!”
The graveled voice, usually so quiet and calm, now had such strength, even Calla was surprised. Then the actual words sank in, and she turned to Amilia, lifting an eyebrow.
“Count who? What the heck was that all about?”
Amilia made a little half-shrug, and arranged the cards in her hand, again. It was no use, the hand was rubbish. She tossed the cards on the table, and settled back in her chair.
Suddenly curious, Calla tilted her head, and discarded her cards too. The game had lost it"s appeal.
“Why would he compare himself to a fictional character?”
“Don"t know. But take my advise, and don"t ask them.”
Now Calla was confused.
“Why not? Asking would be the easiest way.”
“I already tried that. Strum got really annoyed when I mentioned the name, and Frederik suddenly remembered a dentist"s appointment.”
Calla didn"t know Amilia"s mate all that well, but he certainly didn"t seem like the type, who got irritated by fictional people. Only a week earlier they had all watched the Vampire in Brooklyn, and the men had just laughed. A disturbing thought started forming in her mind.
“The count isn"t made up?”
“Not by an Irish writer, anyway.”
Calla drummed the armrest of her chair.
“You"re thinking it was a vampire. Why?”
“Because it would make sense. That novel has too much information about their powers. There"s no way any human could"ve found everything out on his own. Not during the 19th century.”
“Considering how hard it is to get anything out of Scars even today, I"d say it would have been damn near impossible back then.”
Amilia twirled a curl around her fingers. Calla had noticed she did that every time something was puzzling her.
“But a vamp would have to be suicidal to break the code of silence.”
“Or just really desperate to be famous.”
The study door opening had the women snap their mouths shut. Amilia thought it was stupid. Both of them were grown ups, but they still acted like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. The vampires hadn"t seemed to notice anything, though.
Frederik rummaged through the couch cushions, until he was triumphantly clutching the remote. Soon the TV was blasting hockey, and the couch groaned as Frederik"s massive frame flopped on it.
Scars took his usual place, sitting on the floor by Calla"s feet. He glared at the flickering screen, but forgot all about it when Calla buried her hand in his hair. Scars gave off a little sigh, and leaned in even closer.
Sturm pressed a quick kiss on Amilia"s forehead, and went to poke up the fire. He gave the discarded cards a noted look.
“What were you two talking about? Must have been pretty interesting.”
Amilia gave him her sweetest smile.
“Oh, it was nothing, love. Just girl talk.”
|Bastien||13th Signet - Chained|