Hillary Kanter - Dead Men Are Easy To Love (12 page)

We savored an eight-course meal, complemented with the finest of Romanian wines. Everything was first-class.

I ordered fish, but Dalv is no vegetarian and he likes red meat—
really
red. I’ve never seen anyone eat a steak that rare.

In between courses, we lounged on the velvet chaise. We could not keep our lips off each other. I swear, when I look into his eyes, I am lost in another world. I can feel this man enveloping me and going places in me no one’s everbeen before. It’s a place of oceans and mountains and rivers, of happiness mixed with great sorrow. It is as if I have known him before—somehow, somewhere.

I cannot bear to think of being taken from him. When will that happen? I know it is only a matter of time. The way I feel now, I don’t want to ever leave, but I have no control over it.

After dinner, Dalv placed a padded box in front of me on the table. He said, “Please, go ahead. Open it.”

Inside, black velvet cradled a milky stone on a platinum chain.

“It’s … it’s beautiful,” I breathed.

“It’s a moonstone. It is very special. It belonged to my mother.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I can’t accept this.”

“Please. I want you to have it. Come, put it on. Here, let me help you.”

As he stood behind me and fastened the chain around my neck, I glanced into the mirror over the fireplace mantel.

“Gorgeous, Ariel. It suits you,” he said, “as it suited my mother.”

The necklace glowed, the color of a silver moon against my skin. Joy filled me, and I saw my own smile reflected in the mirror. What I did not see was Dalv’s reflection. The glass showed no sign of him!

“What?” I gasped, swinging round to face him. He was no longer behind me, but seated on the chaise a few feet away. Dumbfounded, I wrote it off to one glass of wine too many. “I’m sorry, I … I feel dizzy all of a sudden.”

“Here, sit. Sit down.” He pulled out my chair. “It is all this excitement, your lack of sleep—and the nightmares. You need to rest. I will take you back now.”

“Thank you, Dalv.”

Leaving the restaurant, I had to lean against him as he helped me across the street to his car. I did not want the night to end. Not like this. Yes, I was tired, but I could not let him leave me. Not yet.

He walked me to my room, and, ever the gentleman, stopped at my door. This time when I kissed him goodnight, I pulled him tighter to me. My hands slid their way down his back.

He pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing, Ariel. I just do not want you to ever think I took advantage. After all, you’ve had a lot to drink.”

Good God,
I was thinking.
I hope he is not gay, or that this is just some excuse because he doesn’t really like me.
I’ve encountered both scenarios more times than I care to admit.

“I would never think that,” I slurred. “You have been a perfect gentleman. And now I do
not
want you to be a gentleman anymore.”

“Whatever is the lady’s pleasure,” he said, wearing a smile.

He kissed me harder, and I threw all caution to the wind. I fumbled in my purse for the door key, but then it flung open wide without
any
key. Dalv eased me toward the bed. A thousand rose petals materialized on it as he laid me down, and scores of candles appeared magically about the room, lit of their own accord. Before I could even mention “safe sex,” he seemed to read my mind.

Dalv stayed until almost 3:00 a.m. Cuddled in each other’s arms, we talked for hours. And then he told me he was in love with me.

I blurted out, “I think I’m falling in love with you too.”

I could not believe I was saying these words yet again. But on this particular journey, I’d been permitted to stay longer than on the previous ones, giving my feelings more opportunity to deepen.

He worried me, however, when he said there were things about him that I did not know, that he needed to tell me later. These days, those words will raise the hairs on the back of any single woman’s neck, and I asked if I should be nervous.

He considered my question. “I do not think so,” he said at last.

Somehow, I believe he was being honest.

***

Dalv Lucard’s Journal—

Nov. 8

Last night, Ariel was completely surprised with the dinner plans I made. We had a wonderful evening.

I did almost get into some big trouble, though. When I gave her the necklace and went to fasten it around her neck, I forgot we were standing in front of a mirror. Although we vampires have evolved a great deal, this is one thing that has not yet changed. Mirrors still fail to detect our presence.

Thankfully, Ariel had a lot of wine and seemed to think that was to blame for what she saw—or didn’t see.

I want her to know all there is to know about me, especially if I am to ask her to wed. But I must figure out the best way to tell her the truth. Rion would not want me to tell her. He does not yet know that I intend to marry her. He will not take kindly to the news. He has told me many times before that he would never give up
his
immortality for love.

***

Ariel’s Journal—

Nov. 8, Bistritz

This morning, a knock on my door awakened me. It was almost eight, and I had planned to get up earlier.

“I think it’s high time you were served breakfast in bed, my lady.” Dalv grinned, standing on the threshold with a heavily-laden tray.

“Might I ask what you have up your sleeve?” I said.

He poured the coffee, and after a few luxurious sips I noticed something in the bottom of my cup. When I looked closer, I saw it was a …

“A
ring
!”

“Do you like it?”

Heart-shaped and entrancing, the canary diamond caused my heart to flutter. “I
love
it, Dalv.”

He got down on one knee. Was this possible? So much for his being commitment-phobic, like so many other men.

“Ariel,” he said, gazing up with his deep dark eyes. “Will you marry me?”

In that moment, I completely ignored the fact that I might disappear any instant and miss out on my own wedding date.

“I would love to,” I gushed. “Yes, of course I will!”

When he left for work at the lab, he told me he would be back at seven to take me to his brother’s party. I’m looking forward to meeting Rion in person.

***

Rion Lucard’s Diary—

Nov, 8, Brasov

Dalv called at lunch to tell me his “good news.”

It is as bad as I feared. I can’t believe he’s marrying this woman. I pretended to be happy for him, but I’m nothing of the sort. Of course I asked if he wasn’t being a bit hasty, since they met less than two weeks ago, and all he said was, “Brother, I’ve waited all my life to feel this way, and I know she’s the one.”

My God, doesn’t he realize that when he marries her he will become human? He can never be one of us again!

I wanted to know if he has told her who he
really
is. He replied that he was not quite ready yet, but soon. I think maybe he has a mind
not
to tell her, so he
can go to America, marry her there, and never come back. It would be just like him to do such an idiotic thing. Doesn’t he know how incredibly overrated love is? He has no idea what he is doing.

Despite my misgivings, I told him we can celebrate the good news at the party tonight. He seemed surprised and happy at that. No need for him to know I am devising a plan that should solve all problems.

***

Dalv Lucard’s Journal—

Nov. 9

I don’t know what to think after last night’s party. When I woke up this morning, I hoped it had all been a bad dream. But it was not.

Here is what happened:

Ariel and I, elated over our engagement, attended Rion’s party as planned. The cold rain was turning to light snow as we arrived. His castle-like home stands alone on the outside of Brasov. It’s a cavernous place that suits his taste—cold and stark, with bare stone floors. Instead of using electricity at his parties, he lights silver candelabra, scores of them, throughout the house. In the large living-room fireplace, flames offered some relief from the cold, and cast eerie shadows on the stucco walls. About a hundred people milled around, while Rion’s dark taste in music was piped throughout the house.

Though we look alike, Rion and I are completely different. He can be cold-blooded indeed.

“Dear, dear, Ariel,” he said, kissing her hand in greeting at the door. “What a pleasure to meet the woman who has captured my brother’s heart. You are every bit as pretty as he described. Welcome to my home. Here, let me take your coat. Come in, come in. I’ll get you a drink. What would you like? Champagne? Or a daiquiri, perhaps? After all we
do
have something to
celebrate, don’t we? I think it shall be champagne, after all.”

The sarcasm in his tone unnerved me.

Rion brought us full glasses, and instructed the butler to keep them refilled for us. We mingled for a while, and I talked with someone I had not seen in a long time.

“Brother,” Rion said, touching my elbow. “May I borrow your lovely bride-to-be and show her around my home?”

I shoved down my apprehension. “Sure,” I said.

I watched her follow him alone up the stairs and into the walnut-paneled library, where he keeps hundreds of dusty old books. In my mind, I could imagine his every move, showing her his black bedroom and the gothic decorations in the guest rooms. I trained my thoughts on those of my brother, and eavesdropped on his every word …

“I like the way these rooms look in candlelight,” he told Ariel. “Don’t you?”

“It’s … mysterious,” was her guarded response.

“Wait until you see what I have to show you next.”

“Don’t you think we should be getting back to Dalv?” Ariel said.

I could sense her discomfort.

“Oh, come now. This’ll take just a few minutes.” Rion led her deeper into the bowels of the house, into a musty, stone-walled basement. “Look here, this is my pride and joy, my wine cellar. As you can see, I am a bit of a connoisseur.”

Ariel swooned in the dank quarters and almost lost her balance.

“Are you all right?” He grabbed her roughly with both hands. His eyes turned blood-red. “Listen, I put something in your drink. It will make all of this much easier, I promise. My brother has no idea what he’s doing by marrying you. He has no idea what he is giving up.”

“What?” Ariel said, trying to pull away. “You mean, bachelorhood? Hey, I think maybe at forty-four, Dalv’s ready for a change. Don’t you?”

“So, Ariel, it looks like you are a bit of a smart-ass,” he hissed. “You have put some sort of spell on my brother, but I cannot allow him to abandon me or to abandon his own kind.”

“My, aren’t we being just a little needy? Geez, Rion, how old are you again? Might it not be time to get thee to a therapist?”

“Enough with the sarcasm. Don’t you understand anything about us? Our ways are not your ways.”

“What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“You mean to tell me you don’t
know
?”

“
I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Ariel braced a hand against a pillar. “I understand why you think this is all happening too fast, but what do you mean by ‘abandon his own kind’?”

Listening in on this conversation, I wanted to interrupt. I wanted to be the one to tell Ariel the full truth. I owed her that much, and I did not trust my brother to deliver the facts in a positive light.

An incredulous look crossed Rion’s face as he faced Ariel. “You really don’t know, do you? Leave it to my brother to leave out such a
minute
detail about himself.”

That was enough already. I was ready to charge down there, but my legs refused to obey their orders, and I realized my brother had put something in
my
drink as well. I was paralyzed. I could not move.

“Haven’t you noticed
anything
odd or different about him? Rion continued.

“Well, I am noticing something very odd and different about
you
,” Ariel retorted. “Yes, Dalv is different. He is a responsible, kind, good-hearted, and romantic man. He is not afraid of commitment—and
that
is different where I come from.”

“Have you actually asked him much about his heritage?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. He told me he is from a very old Transylvanian family.”

“Well, well, well. You could say that is a
grave
understatement. Do you know
how he spells his name? Have you ever looked at it? I mean
really
looked at it?” He pulled pad and pen from his pocket and wrote: D-A-L-V L-U-C-A-R-D.

“So?” Ariel tried to appear bored. “Okay, you know how to spell. I’m impressed.”

“Look closely, my dear. What does that spell backwards?”

“Oh, please. I’ve had enough of your games.”

“Backwards, woman!
Spell
it. VLAD DRACUL!”

“That’s preposterous.”