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“Berlin,” he said and sighed, pushing the computer away. “I haven’t been there for quite a while. They have great theatre, food and many nice coffee shops.”
“How long has it been since you were there?” I asked, thinking of the division of West and East Germany during the war and the breaking down of the Berlin Wall.
He pursed his lips. “I was there in…1874?” He gazed off into the distance, remembering. “A performance of Julius Caesar by the Meiningen Court Theatre Company, which was on tour at the time. I was there with my father, who’s a big supporter of theatre, especially Shakespeare.”
I shook my head in awe that he had been alive—or dead—for over one hundred and forty years. He might be even older.
“When were you turned into a vampire?”
He smiled softly and shook his head. “Enough tales of my past. It makes me feel very old to speak of it. What matters is the future. You say that my message will get to them immediately?”
“It’ll go to their message center. It depends on how often they check it. Maybe no one will get it until tomorrow morning, so you might get a message back sometime tomorrow.”
He nodded and took out a pocket watch and checked the time. Then he turned and leaned his head against the back of the sofa, gazing at me, his eyes moving up and over my body to come to rest on my eyes.
“I’m hungry.”
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I swallowed hard at that. “For food or…”
“Both.” He jumped up suddenly and went to the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a serving of leftover lasagna. He turned to me. “Can you do me the honor of heating this up? I’m not quite sure about this machine…”
He pointed to the microwave. I smiled at went to his side, taking the plastic container and removing the lid so that it wouldn’t get too hot.
“It’s easy,” I said. “You have to take the lid off or else it might get too hot and melt. Put a piece of paper towel on top to stop splattering when it boils. Put it in for a minute and a half, and voila.”
I put the dish inside and covered it, then closed the door. I set the microwave for ninety seconds and pressed start. We both stood and watched the dish spin around inside the microwave as the timer counted down the seconds. I stopped it just before the timer hit one second and then opened the door.
“You stopped it early?”
I laughed. “You’d know why if you used it enough. Here,” I said and slipped the piece of lasagna onto a plate and put a fork next to it. Then, I gave him a paper towel for a napkin and handed him the plate. “Dig in.”
“Thank you.”
I sat across from him at the dining room table and watched as he ate, my chin resting on my hand, my elbow on the table. He seemed voracious, focused completely on eating, although he was quite the gentleman and wiped his mouth frequently. I could tell he enjoyed the dish.
“What would my mother think if she knew a one hundred and forty year old vampire was eating her lasagna?”
He looked up from his food and smiled ruefully. “A bit older than one hundred forty, I’m afraid.”
“How much older?”
He shook his head and forked another piece of pasta. “A man has to have some secrets, Calla.”
“Where were you born? You can at least tell me that.”
He finished his mouthful and wiped his mouth with his paper towel. He studied my face, as if deciding what to tell me. Finally, he put down his fork and took a sip of his water.
“In a place called Caledonia in what is now known as Scotland. I was born in the eighth century.”
I sat in silence for a moment, doing a mental calculation. “You’re over a thousand years old?”
“A little more than that, but close enough.” He nodded, his eyes half-hooded as if assessing my response. I sat in shock for a moment, scarcely able to believe he was that old.
“So you don’t age at all after you’re turned?”
He shook his head and pushed the remaining food around on his plate with his fork. “Look, none of this is necessary. I’ll be gone tomorrow and I’ll compel you to forget you ever met me. I’ll compel Chelsea to forget she ever met me. The two of you will go on with your pretty little mortal lives completely unaware.
