silence had gone on long enough to get her point across and it was time to once again be the gracious hostess.
“Well, it’s pretty late,” Dad chimed in. “Time we were all in bed. Early start tomorrow, you know.”
It was just past one in the morning. Dad routinely stayed up until three and had always seemed to thrive on a mere four to five hours of sleep per night. Either there was something especially exciting planned for tomorrow, or Dad felt everyone needed to go to bed and process the fact that I’d brought a vampire to our home for family weekend. Yeah, probably the latter.
Everyone chimed in their good-nights as if we were the Waltons, and made their way up a staircase so wide four could walk abreast. I waited, knowing what was to come.
“Aria. A word with you in the kitchen, please?”
Mom. Dario raised a questioning eyebrow at me and I waved for him to follow. The kitchen was in the rear of the house, through a maze of rooms and hallways. If I hadn’t grown up here, I would have been tempted to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to find my way back.
The house layout may have been for the convenience of a lifestyle long ago, but the kitchen had been remodeled for modern needs. I’m sure it was huge two hundred years ago, but it was even bigger now that two of the old servants’ rooms had been demolished in the expansion. One pantry had been converted into a walk-in fridge, two others retained their original use. A fireplace big enough to roast a horse took up one entire wall. It was totally impractical, but Dad adored it and refused to see it walled in. I adored it, too. The brick had chips, patchwork, and tiny carvings where Ainsworths of old had etched charms and, no doubt, curses. A heavy black metal arm on a hinged pole was still in place inside the fireplace, its hook holding an antique cast iron pot. I used to sit at the kitchen table eating my cereal and imagine that I was a witch with potions boiling away over the fire. In reality, that pot hadn’t seen use in close to fifty years. And the housekeepers we’d had over the ages always complained about having to clean the thing of cobwebs and dust.
I waved Dario to the huge butcher block we used as a kitchen table and grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge. Dad may be a wine kinda guy, but he always had a good supply of beer for us kids.
“When are you taking your Oath, Solaria?”
I totally expected this. Mom never pulled her punches. “I’m not ready. Should I show Dario to the dragon bedroom? I’m assuming that’s where you’d like him to stay?”
With twelve bedrooms, we’d taken to naming them by décor. The dragon bedroom had tapestries on the walls showing Saint George’s legendary battle. It also was north-facing with electronic privacy shutters. Perfect for a vampire, or for guests who had been partying very late and wanted to sleep the day away undisturbed by sunlight.
“Of course. Your Oath, Solaria—”
“I’m not discussing my Oath. Can we please change the subject, Mom?”
We weren’t always this way, my mother and I. There was a time when I’d cuddled in her lap while she sang me songs of Charlemagne and Genghis Khan. She’d taught me swordplay at three with a red plastic Excalibur. She’d bandaged my cuts and scrapes, kissed my boo-boos. She’d held me as I cried in her arms over some boy. Something changed between us and I wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened. All I felt from her now was pressure. And disappointment.
Her blue eyes, so like my own, were steely as they met mine. “For the sake of your guest, who I’m sure is uncomfortable with this discussion, I will change the topic. But be aware, Solaria, we will speak of this again.”
Dario didn’t look uncomfortable. Actually he looked intrigued at the tension between us. I drained half my beer and nodded. I was starving, cannoli didn’t make for a very filling dinner, but I wasn’t willing to hang around my mother long enough to raid the
“Well, it’s pretty late,” Dad chimed in. “Time we were all in bed. Early start tomorrow, you know.”
It was just past one in the morning. Dad routinely stayed up until three and had always seemed to thrive on a mere four to five hours of sleep per night. Either there was something especially exciting planned for tomorrow, or Dad felt everyone needed to go to bed and process the fact that I’d brought a vampire to our home for family weekend. Yeah, probably the latter.
Everyone chimed in their good-nights as if we were the Waltons, and made their way up a staircase so wide four could walk abreast. I waited, knowing what was to come.
“Aria. A word with you in the kitchen, please?”
Mom. Dario raised a questioning eyebrow at me and I waved for him to follow. The kitchen was in the rear of the house, through a maze of rooms and hallways. If I hadn’t grown up here, I would have been tempted to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to find my way back.
The house layout may have been for the convenience of a lifestyle long ago, but the kitchen had been remodeled for modern needs. I’m sure it was huge two hundred years ago, but it was even bigger now that two of the old servants’ rooms had been demolished in the expansion. One pantry had been converted into a walk-in fridge, two others retained their original use. A fireplace big enough to roast a horse took up one entire wall. It was totally impractical, but Dad adored it and refused to see it walled in. I adored it, too. The brick had chips, patchwork, and tiny carvings where Ainsworths of old had etched charms and, no doubt, curses. A heavy black metal arm on a hinged pole was still in place inside the fireplace, its hook holding an antique cast iron pot. I used to sit at the kitchen table eating my cereal and imagine that I was a witch with potions boiling away over the fire. In reality, that pot hadn’t seen use in close to fifty years. And the housekeepers we’d had over the ages always complained about having to clean the thing of cobwebs and dust.
I waved Dario to the huge butcher block we used as a kitchen table and grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge. Dad may be a wine kinda guy, but he always had a good supply of beer for us kids.
“When are you taking your Oath, Solaria?”
I totally expected this. Mom never pulled her punches. “I’m not ready. Should I show Dario to the dragon bedroom? I’m assuming that’s where you’d like him to stay?”
With twelve bedrooms, we’d taken to naming them by décor. The dragon bedroom had tapestries on the walls showing Saint George’s legendary battle. It also was north-facing with electronic privacy shutters. Perfect for a vampire, or for guests who had been partying very late and wanted to sleep the day away undisturbed by sunlight.
“Of course. Your Oath, Solaria—”
“I’m not discussing my Oath. Can we please change the subject, Mom?”
We weren’t always this way, my mother and I. There was a time when I’d cuddled in her lap while she sang me songs of Charlemagne and Genghis Khan. She’d taught me swordplay at three with a red plastic Excalibur. She’d bandaged my cuts and scrapes, kissed my boo-boos. She’d held me as I cried in her arms over some boy. Something changed between us and I wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened. All I felt from her now was pressure. And disappointment.
Her blue eyes, so like my own, were steely as they met mine. “For the sake of your guest, who I’m sure is uncomfortable with this discussion, I will change the topic. But be aware, Solaria, we will speak of this again.”
Dario didn’t look uncomfortable. Actually he looked intrigued at the tension between us. I drained half my beer and nodded. I was starving, cannoli didn’t make for a very filling dinner, but I wasn’t willing to hang around my mother long enough to raid the
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