Page 20 of Nosfer-Meet You

Dante’s sympathetic smile hardens into a scowl. “A rare bottle I’ve been saving for such an occasion. It wasn’t easy to come by.”

I wipe my mouth clean with the lace sleeve, and Dante slaps my hand away, causing me to nearly drop my glass. Again, his expression softens when he says, “My dear, you’ll soil your dress. Selene went to great effort to make you presentable.”

Presentable. As though I could ever be presentable ever again. Non. I am now an abhorrent, ugly monster and everyone in this room knows it. Most of the vampires in attendance wear fancy wigs piled on top of their bald heads.

“Dante, may I—” I start, but he bares his fangs at me, causing me to cower like a child behind their maman’s skirts.

“You will not address me as such,” he hisses. “Master Dante, if you must. But never Dante.”

I dip my head in what I hope is a fearful enough bow. “Yes, Master Dante.”

“Good girl. Now, what were you going to say? Make it quick. I have many folks to entertain this evening.”

I lift my head, but I cannot meet his gaze. Not now. “I was just wondering if I … could also have a wig? Or some new dresses? I would like very much to have something pretty to wear. So that I can fit in better, perhaps. Please?”

Dante’s eyes move up past mine to stare at the top of my head. I swallow thickly as I wait for his answer. His eyes glaze over as they linger on my hair, like he’s lost in thought. Suddenly, self-consciousness overtakes me, and all I can do is wish for a cloak with a hood or something else to cover myself with. He purses his lips for a moment, and my heart lifts in my chest. But then he shakes his head, dashing my hopes with a single gesture.

“No,” he says, and then moves away from me to talk with a Nosferatu woman in a billowing, gorgeous black dress. I catch myself staring at her as she laughs at something Dante says. He’s charming, and knows how to work the room. The mask he wears for other people is how I wish he was all of the time. The Nosferatu woman’s obsidian eyes flick across the ballroom, catching my gaze like a hungry fox who caught the rabbit. My heart lodges itself in my throat and remains there. Beautiful, I catch myself thinking.

Later that evening, close to dawn, Dante takes me upstairs to my sleeping quarters. I’m not even surprised when he shows me to a stone coffin in the middle of the room. Feeling groggy and full from my nightmare of a meal, I run my fingertips across the lettering etched into the side of the coffin.

“Juliette,” I read out loud. “You’ve … you’ve already engraved it.”

Dante appears by my side and places an arm around my shoulder. “Of course, my dear. The moment your name slipped from your lips, the coffin took on your name. No longer will your mortal life plague you,” he says, then turns to face me. He takes my hands into his and runs his thumbs over my knuckles. The gesture is almost affectionate. “We are creatures of the night. Our magic was created from the Naga Goddess Akasha. She will rise again in time, but until that day comes, it is us, her children, who enact her will.”

I frown. But that does not sound right. “That is not what I read and learned,” I murmur.

Dante’s fingers move from my knuckles up to my mouth to drag across my lower lip. “In time, you will learn that not everything you hear and read in books is the truth. The truth is a whisper on the wind, silenced by the ignorant hearts of men who refuse to listen.”

He gestures to the coffin, then smiles. “Now, get in your vessel, little dove. This is the final step before your new beginning. Your new life awaits.”

With his help, I climb into the coffin and lie back against the cool stone. It’s not comfortable, but I wasn’t expecting it to be. Dante takes my wrists into his cold, dry hands and places them across my chest in a cross. He leans over, and his lips brush across my forehead, then he sweeps the blond tendrils of my hair away from my face. “Such beautiful hair,” he murmurs against my temple. “I’m sorry, but perhaps this will be a consolation.”

I can’t see what he’s doing, but I hear him unsheathe a blade from beyond the coffin. And then, before I have time to protest, he cuts a large piece of my hair.

“Wh-What are you doing?” I ask, my voice small and almost unrecognizable, even to myself.

“Just saving this for later,” he says, then places the lock of hair into his breast pocket. He pats it with a smile. “For you. Because not all memories are unpleasant ones, little dove.” When I frown, he continues. “We sleep more deeply than humans. Dream harder. And in those dreams, you will wish for this lock of hair to remind you of the days when you were a radiant beauty. Remember this.”

“Wh—” I start, my eyes wide with confusion, but then he plunges the dagger into my chest.

The same dagger that he used only moments ago to lovingly cut a strand of my hair for safe keeping.

I don’t remember what happened next, only that there was blood. So, so much blood that I should have drowned in it. And when my eyes finally closed for the last time, there was nothing waiting to meet me on the other side.

Not my father. Not my mother. Not the blinding white light I’d been told would usher me to the palace of the gods.

No, there was … n o t h i n g.

Chapter 13

Scotty

THE INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS WON

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. He made you eat your mother’s still beating heart, drink his blood, shoved you in a box, saved your fucking hair for some creepy reason, and then staked you?!”

I can barely contain my disgust right now. Juliette stares at me blankly, like my reaction isn’t normal or something. But how can anyone hear all of that and not have some sort of reaction? She just shakes her head slowly.