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“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”
“You’re figuring me out, Ms. Francis.” I smile in return, motioning toward the door. “After you.”
“This bedroom would have been the nursery originally,” she says, leading me into a smaller bedroom in the back of the house. “All of the children would’ve been housed in this room until they were older.” She moves toward a door in the back. “This would’ve been their nanny's room. Now it’s a bathroom.”
“All of the children in one room?” I think back to my siblings and how we shared one bed.
“Yes. Infant to teen. The other rooms would be kept as guest rooms. Back in those days, people didn’t stop in for just a day. If you had a visitor, they might stay a week or even a month.” We strip the bed of linens, piling them on the floor next to the door. “This was my room when I was young.” She stops, looking around the room, clearly stuck in a memory.
“When the house was built, was this room meant to be the nursery?”
She huffs a short laugh. “Probably, but I wouldn’tknow that answer for sure. However, we do know that Captain Rex only had one son, which explains why this room is so small. Until his wife remarried, he would have had it to himself.”
“She remarried?” I’m not sure why that surprises me.
“Aye. It was customary for women to be married during those times. After mourning the death of her husband, she married a merchant from town.” She moves toward a small dresser in the corner. “This piece is original to the room. My grandmother once told me it was made from the wood of Captain Rex’s ship.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Aye, it is.”
“What do you think happened to him, to Captain Rex?”
Francis sighs. “I don’t know that anyone will ever know. It's rather sad if you think about it. My grandmother passed down stories of him throughout the years. Stories told to her by her grandfather. It was said he was a cold, bitter man.”
I think back to the Thorne I knew. He was kind, gentle, and anything but bitter. “I think we all have more going on inside than we want the world to know.”
Francis’s laugh fills the room. “That’s the statement of the year, dear girl.” She moves to the clean linens we carried upstairs. “Do you mind helping me put these on? A guest is checking in this afternoon, and I want him to have this room.”
“I thought you said we would be alone for a few days.”
“Aye, I did. But through the magic of the internets, we have a guest coming today.”
I smile at her attempt to sound technological while grabbing the sheets. In the time she tucks one corner in, I have the other three done and the top sheet in place. It doesn’t take long to clean the rest of the room. While dusting, she gives me the history of each item and its significance to both Charleston and family history.
We’re just about finished with the second bedroom when a feeling I haven’t felt in a while threatens to overtake me. There’s a vampire near—an energy I don’t recognize.
“What’s wrong, Elsie?” Ms. Francis asks, sensing my sudden change.
I clear my throat. “Nothing.” I plaster a fake smile across my face. “I’m not feeling well after breakfast. Would you mind if I go and lay down?”
“Of course not. Our guest should be arriving soon. Get some rest, and thank you for your help.”
I excuse myself and move across the hallway to the room I’m occupying. The feeling continues to grow. Shit. It’s not Kragen’s energy, but it somehow feels familiar. Could it be one of the creatures from his crew?
Grabbing the journal from its hiding spot, I exit the house before Ms. Francis registers movement. Once outside, I’m at the edge of the water less than a secondlater. I hold the journal to my chest, the last remaining connection I have to Thorne.
The energy continues to grow. Whoever it belongs to is strong and nearly as old as me. I turn, not sure what to expect, finding no one.
“Not all vampires are bad,” I remind myself. “Not everyone is Kragen.” My calming mantra has helped throughout the years. I've met others like me in the two hundred years since I escaped. Most were nothing more than sadistic killers. A few were passive and less threatening.
I turn back toward the river and run head first into the energy. Standing in front of me is a vampire. He’s tall with a head full of dark curls and grey eyes, wearing a face I would recognize in a sea of millions.
“Thorne?” I whisper, not trusting my voice.
“Aye,” he answers with a smile. “It’s me, my love.”
The wind is swept from my chest, and the world around me falls into blackness. I never thought it was possible for a vampire to pass out, yet here we are.
