“I’m sure us disappearing into thin air might though.”
“I’ll only let people see what they need to see,” he says, vague enough to make me guess that it’s some borrowed magic.
“That aside,” I tell him, “I don’t want to go through there.”
“Why not?”
“Because the last couple of times I’ve tried to go into the Black Sunshine, I felt like someone was watching me. Following me. In there. Creeped me out too much, I had to leave.”
“Well yes, that was probably me,” he says. Then he gives me a fleeting smile. “We’ll do it the boring way then. An Uber.”
I scoff. “Boring? You forget you had Ezra kidnap me in an Uber?”
“Bringing that up again?” he asks, but he grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze as we walk through the rain.
2
Lenore
I wake up at dawn, covered in sweat, sticking to the black silk sheets. Though I don’t sweat as much since I turned vampire, it still seems to happen when I’m having a nightmare, and the effect is totally jarring.
As is the fact that I’m totally alone. I slowly sit up, the hairs all over my body standing on end, goosebumps prickling every inch of skin, my hand sliding over the empty space on the bed next to me where Solon should be. I know he gets up early sometimes, especially when he can’t sleep, or if his dog Odin whines at the bedroom door to go out, but usually I hear him get up. And anyway, it’s not that he’s gone that has my heart thundering in my chest, but that I still feel a presence in the room, even though I know he’s not here.
The light is dim as always, the black-out curtains drawn against the gray morning, the ebony wallpaper sucking away all light like a collapsing star. A vampire’s bedroom through and through. My eyes only need a moment to adjust, the room gradually brightening as my night vision comes into effect.
There’s someone standing in the corner of the room.
I gasp, my breath catching in my throat, terror seizing my limbs.
At least…I think it’s someone. It’s a long, tall shadow that seems solid enough, and my imagination is running wild, thinking of the Dark Order and their cloaks. But when I manage to move my eyes, just a bit, it looks less solid. Like it’s dissolving into the air and is becoming nothing more than the wallpaper.
It’s gone.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe out, my voice shaking. I don’t know what that was but that had to be something, right? Even if it disappeared? Though I couldn’t see anything of substance I felt it look at me, eying me, like it wanted to devour me whole. It seemed all black but at the same time there was a white space, like a skull, but too elongated to be human. There was a strong sense of…I don’t know, evil, or hatred or something disturbing, and even now the feelings are settling on me like ash.
Closing my eyes for a second, I take in a deep breath.
Then I open them. Look around the room. Exhale.
It seems as before. All scary, fucked-up vibes gone.
What the hell?
I throw back the covers, and slowly get out of bed. Is that why I was sweating in the first place? Because I thought someone, or something, was in the room? Or was it a bad dream? Am I still dreaming?
I go over to the curtains and pull them open, wincing at the harsh light, hoping it will make sure I’m awake. When I finally pry open my overly sensitive eyes, I notice something moving on the windowpane.
A moth.
A death’s-head hawkmoth, to be more specific. You know, the one with the shape of a skull on its back, made famous by The Silence of the Lambs?
It doesn’t creep me out though, even though it’s totally odd to have a moth inside the house. This isn’t the kind of place where you leave the windows open, much to Yvonne’s frustration when she’s trying to air it out.
“How did you get in here?” I ask the moth softly. Against my better instincts, I put my hand out toward the moth and it flutters up in the air, landing on my finger. I bring it up to my face and peer at it. I’ve never been a fan of moths, especially when some kid at camp told me they like to crawl into your ear while you’re sleeping, but I don’t fear them anymore. And this one apparently doesn’t fear me.
I remember what Solon told me ages ago (at least, it feels like ages ago), that the creatures of the night would seek me out. Well, I guess I’d rather have it be moths than bats.
“You want to go outside?” I ask, and the moth raises its antennae toward me, as if it’s actually listening. Whoa. I’m one step closer to being a gothic Disney Princess. Maybe a flock of moths could help me get dressed in the morning.