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“I’ve always thought vampires are the only supernaturals,” I tell her. “I’ve never heard of anyone talk of anything else.”
Miriam smirks.
“How many humans in the world do you think know vampires exist?” she questions me. I’ve never thought of that. I know that it isn’t commonplace for people to talk about them, but my knowledge is obviously limited, since I hardly left my father’s compound.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “A few million, maybe.” That must be right. I’ve heard people talking about them in public before.
“Less than ten thousand worldwide,” she informs me. That can’t be possible. “Most of those you think are human who are talking about vampires are supernaturals themselves. They are called fae.”
“Fae?” The look on my face must be priceless. I feel as if a rug is being pulled out from under my feet. “Like fairies?” One of the kitchen staff giggles.
“It’s how the old human world used to see us, yes.” She chuckles.
“Are you a fae, or are you that—dhampir?”
“I’m a little bit of both. My parents were both dhampirs themselves. My father was a human, and my mother was a fae.”
“What kind of fae are you?” I hope that isn’t rude to ask.
“I’m a garden fae,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “Part woodland nymph, if you will.”
This can’t be real.
Fae, nymphs. What’s next? Nessie the Loch Ness Monster?
“Nessie has long since passed, I’m afraid. The creature in the lake is one of her descendants. Smaller in size, luckily enough, so he’s hardly ever spotted.”
Did I say that aloud?
Wait…what?
“Nessie was real?”
Miriam laughs, and I can hear the kitchen staff chuckling in the background. My cheeks heat when she says, “No, dear. Nessie is what she has always been. A legend.”
“Oh.” Man, I feel stupid. It’s not a large leap, though. The world is full of vampires and apparently fae and who knows what else, so thinking the Loch Ness Monster is real doesn’t feel like a stretch.
Miriam stands from her seat, holding her hand up when I open my mouth to ask more questions.
“No more,” she tells me, not unkindly. “I have work to do. If you want to learn more, you can head to the library. It’s just off the main sitting room. Can’t miss it.”
One maid pours me another cup of coffee before I wander out of the kitchen in search of the library. It’s not like I have anything else to do, and I’m curious about what books the Kings have gracing their shelves.
It doesn’t take any effort to find the large pocket doors leading to the room. They’re hard to miss, especially with the sign above it boldly stating: Library. It’s a curious thing. Why do they have a sign in their own home? Do others come and use it?
When I open the doors and take in the view, my jaw goes slack.
I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous in all my life. The walls themselves seem to be the bookcases, and they run from floor to ceiling, nearly taking up the entire space. They’re painted a dark forest green with gold leaf accents. To the left, near one of the large floor-to-ceiling windows, is a spiral staircase leading up to the second floor.
Henry Higgins would be in awe.
There is so much light from the outside that I don’t need to turn on the overhead lamps. They’ve covered the hardwood floor in a vast array of colored rugs, some of which look antique. Rugs don’t belong in museums, but it pains me to see such mastery not being displayed. Hardly anyone looks at their feet.
There is a fireplace along one wall, with a large mantel decorated in overturned books, skulls, and a few other things that I’m not ready to inspect. I know if I do, it’ll confirm how real they are. How priceless.
The room looks surprisingly well used. Not that I think the Kings don’t read, but they don’t seem like the kind of vampires to sit and enjoy a good book and cup of tea in a relaxed atmosphere like this one. They seem like people who would simply consume a book for information and not take their time.
All thoughts of the Kings flee from my mind as I greedily spend the next while thumbing through the books on the shelves.
