The Blood is Love (Dark Eyes 2)

“Two hundred years,” he says simply. “Enough to pick it up.” He pauses, gaze flitting over my features. “Why did you run from me?”

“I didn’t run from you,” I tell him, folding my arms against the night air and leaning back against the railing. “You were downstairs. I just had to get out of the house.”

“You should have told me.”

“I’m not going to tell you every time I go somewhere,” I tell him, though part of that is because I’m stubborn. “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not a matter of trust, my dear.”

“Just plain old being possessive then?” I ask, my tone more angry than it should be. I just wanted some air, damnit. A chance to be alone. You’re never alone in that house, there’s always someone there, and even when there isn’t, either the paintings on the walls are watching you or you’re surrounded by ghosts. Sure, I can’t see them, but I know they’re there. It’s the crack house for the supernatural.

He gives me a steady look. “A little of that, yes. But surely you can’t expect me not to be worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t be worried,” I say, though it sounds like a lie. For levity I add, “And don’t call me Shirley.”

His forehead furrows. “I beg your pardon? Who is Shirley?”

“Oh, so you’re totally immersed in Sesame Street, but you’ve never seen Airplane?”

He continues to stare at me and I’m this close to explaining how his favorite vampire, apparently, is Count Von Count from Sesame Street when he shrugs. “Just because you have all the time in the world, doesn’t mean you’ve seen every film known to man. Regardless,” he says, taking a step toward me in a rather menacing way that makes butterflies coast up my spine with icy wings, “just because you escaped from Yanik, doesn’t mean you’ll be so fortunate the next time.”

I fold my arms, trying to buffer myself against the chill that his words bring. “Gee, way to instill confidence in me, Solon.”

“Is it my job to bring you confidence?” he asks curiously, searching my face.

I open my mouth and then close it, trying to find the words. “It’s not your job, no, but…you give me confidence anyway. And when it comes to being a vampire, well, it kind of is your job to show me the ropes right? You did kidnap me, after all.”

“You’re going to be bringing up this me kidnapping you thing for the rest of eternity, aren’t you?” His lips twist in soft amusement.

“Absolutely,” I tell him. “We’re not even yet. I don’t recall you saying sorry.”

“I have said I was sorry,” he says wryly. “And that apology means something, just so you know. One thing you’ll learn over the years is how to guard your apology. People these days, especially young people, especially women, especially you, apologize for far too much. You need to conserve them, only for when you really mean it and it’s actually warranted.”

There’s a thing that Solon does which is a little like mansplaining, but it comes less from him being a man and more from his life experience of eight hundred years. I call it vampsplaining. Wolf, his partner in crime back at the vampire frat house, does it a lot too.

“Ever thought about writing a self-help book?” I ask, biting back a smile. “Something like, Vampires Don’t Apologize?”

His eyes dance. “Like the Guidebook for the Recently Deceased?”

“So you’ve seen Beetlejuice, but not Airplane?” I laugh, looking away. I shake my head, all the feelings from earlier flooding back. “I don’t want you to worry about me,” I say solemnly. “But maybe you should. It’s just…I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“You’re still in The Becoming,” he says, with a gentleness that nearly unravels me. “That’s what’s happening to you. You’re still dealing with, how some might say, growing pains.” He takes another step until he’s right in front of me, moving with preternatural fluidity, and places his hand at my cheek. My eyes flutter closed. “You’re grieving, my dear. For the loss of the life you had. For the loss of your friends. This is entirely normal.”

I manage to shake my head, keeping my eyes closed, my heart feeling waterlogged. “None of this is normal, Solon. None of it.”

“Grief is normal,” he says quietly. “For humans, vampires, animals. Grief is a constant in all our lives. You don’t get to escape that. And the longer you live, the more grief you’ll see. Believe me, moonshine, this is only the beginning for you.”

I swallow hard and open my eyes, tears clinging to my lashes. “There you go, trying to make me feel better.”

Solon isn’t big on sarcasm, even though he’s fluent in it himself. “I only tell you the truth because the truth is all I know.”

“Says the guy with a secret room full of skulls.”