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The ancient vampire merely held up his hand, and Theseus fell silence without question. In a gentle motion, he then outstretched that same hand for me to take. And when Theseus released his grip on me, I knew there was little choice left for me, so I gave it to the old one, expecting him to bite, too.
“Worry not, young one. I do not need to bite to see.” He smiled and nodded just like that and released my hand. Sighing, he turned on his heels and began to walk to the doors, where Rhea stood, glaring at me.
“Leave the young one alone, Draka. She is living proof that no matter who Theseus ended up with, you’d find a fault.” He snickered, walking right past her. “Everyone come inside; this is a family affair, not a public one. And yes, Draka, she is family, even if lines are not yet clear.”
No one argued. We all had to follow, and we did. Theseus and I were the last to walk back inside.
He squeezed my hand tightly, and I squeezed back.
Chapter 23
“Druella,” Sigbjørn called out to me the moment we stepped through the doors, the once empty living room now very full. “You have traveled far. Follow Pelopia, and she shall show you to your room.”
A tall and very slim woman, almost sickly thin, with black, bone straight hair stepped up beside me. Her stern face put Charline a Bonsaint to shame. I glanced to Theseus, not sure what to do. It kind of felt like his father was trying to dismiss me.
“I am not trying to dismiss you, young one.” Sigbjørn knelt in front of the fireplace. “I’m merely trying to make up for the very poor hospitality my mate showed in my absence.”
“Tisk.” Rhea spat out, picking up a random book and looking to that instead of her mate.
“Do not worry, I will not start our introductions or discussions until you return,” he said, placing the firewood inside.
Theseus stepped forward. “I shall escort her then—”
“Do you not know when you are smothering a woman, son?” he stated, adding wet newspapers inside the fire. “She’s has been dragged from one place to another since you’ve entered her life. I do believe she would like some space to collect her thoughts without you. Is that not right, Druella?”
“Umm…” Was I supposed to argue with him? He wasn’t exactly wrong, and the command he had over the room was clear. I looked at Theseus who frowned deeply, looking at me, clearly wounded by the idea that I might want to get away from him. He released his grip on my hand, and oddly, I felt bad.
“Pelopia,” Sigbjørn mentioned her again, and her only response was to turn to me and motion toward the stairs.
Following her, there was no other sound, but I could feel them all watching. I walked along the banister. Sigbjørn lit the fire and moved with gentle grace to a chair, picking up his book, surprising for a man who looked like he’d he was more suited to wrestling a bear.
He snickered and glanced up at me. “I am far too old to be wrestling bears anymore.”
His voice was clear as day in my head. Eyes wide, I realized he could hear me. He could read my mind! He nodded and looked back to his book.
“Now, go on, young one. We will be here, waiting.”
“This way,” Pelopia stated, opening the door for me, and I followed, walking down the corridor.
If everything were normal, I’d be in heaven over the hall we were walking down. I had never been to the Vatican, but this hall was almost an exact replica of the Gallery of Maps or the Galleria delle Carte Geografiche. The gallery that was located on the west side of the Belvedere Courtyard, which I had seen in books and videos during my studies. On either side, between the rooms and the windows, were panel maps of the entire nation in large-scale frescoes, each depicting a region as well as its most prominent city. But unlike the Vatican, the maps were not of fifteenth-century European nations. It was vampire geography, exactly the same as Theseus had shown and explained to me, but on a larger, more glorious scale. They even had the same vaulted ceilings covered in paintings in Ignazio Danti style. Was it actually him, or was it the work of someone older or newer? Who were the images of? Obviously, they would not be religious. I couldn’t answer those questions because even with my heightened senses as a vampire, my emotions, my thoughts, everything I had learned about myself left me feeling almost numb.
I didn’t want to think about it, what being part of the Omeron coven could have meant. I just wanted to look at art or read. I wanted to just…just be me. But who was I? Druella Zirie Monroe. If I were a part of a coven, that meant I knew I was a witch. But I never knew anything supernatural existed until I became the supernatural.
The more I thought about it, the more detached I became, and the more everything just didn’t seem real.
I kept walking until it felt like I ran into a wall. Instead, it was Pelopia. She stood watching me. Her eyes were deader than any vampire I’d ever seen. It wasn’t scary, or rude; it was just empty.
“Sorry, we’re you saying something?”
“This is your room,” she stated before opening the doors. “Your things were delivered and placed inside.”
“Thank you,” I said, entering a large and ornate but barely furnished room.
There was no bed, but a large golden-framed mirror was leaned against the corner, and beside it were large boxes. Smelling something familiar, I moved to the one closest to the door.
“Anything you may require or need, Lady Thorbørn has instructed that we acquire it immediately,” she said from behind me as I pulled out my favorite scented candles.
Confused, I looked back to her. “Lady Thorbørn, as in Rhea?”
