Page 21 of Vampires of Eden

They lie. They’re self-centered and they manipulate and bully vampires beneath them. They treat us like garbage.

“So that’s it then?” Roland says, laying his oven mitts on the counter and folding his arms. “We’re going to be as callous, rude and exclusive as the vampires who discard us? They’re ugly toward us, so we’ll be ugly toward them?” His voice, which is usually jovial and light, rings heavy as he speaks. Somber and too serious.

It’s unnerving.

Breaking his gaze, I exhale and fold my arms. I know that fighting fire with fire is not the answer, but the resentment inside of me screams,Yes, tear him to shreds. He deserves it. They all do.

Roland goes on in my contemplative silence. “Our intent with this project is to offer a safe house. Something that Eden desperately needs. If we’re going to be exclusive about who we offer safety to and who we don’t, we’re not any better than the vamps who lord over our aristocracy.”

“But heisone of those vamps,” I stress, “By title and definition?—”

“This house will be a refuge for anyone and everyone—forwhateverreason. We don’t need to know why, Daniel. That’s the atmosphere we want to create.”

Roland shakes his head, then looks away as if he can’t stand the sight of me. “But you just snatched that safety from someone. I don’t think you have the right.”

The house settles and creaks around us in the deafening quiet. Roland unties the apron from around his waist and tosses it on the counter beside his cutesy oven mitts. “The croissants are done. Help yourself.” He stalks across the kitchen and through the large archway, leaving.

Alright. Fine.

I feel bad now.

“Did Alexander do something to you?” Kathryn asks. “What did you say to him?”

I slouch in the seat, all my self-righteous indignation suddenly evaporated. Like a hot air balloon that’s lost its fire and gas.

I don’t know if Kathryn and Roland have been privy to the details as far as what happened between Oliver and Alexander. The only reason I know is because Oliver lived with us and told us. It’s not my business to repeat, really.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Kathryn asks.

“I’d rather not.”

She sighs. “Well, alright. This is disappointing, Daniel.”

“So, I’m a disappointment. Am I no longer welcome here?”

“You’re always welcome here. We just want our home to be a peaceful place and, well, we’re not off to a good start, are we?”

Kathryn stands and moves toward the counter. There, she investigates the tray of abandoned croissants. “I’ll try to fix this if I can. Frankly, Alexander being here is monumental for our cause. If the future King of Eden supports us, think of the good we could do? The change we could influence across the upper levels of society. Let’s keep him on our side as best we can and not kick him while he’s obviously down. Croissant?”

Is he on our side? What does that mean, and how can she be certain? There’s no reason for someone of his “pedigree” to be here. This is just a retreat for him. A temporary escape from his personal problems.

“Not yet,” I say, standing. “I’m going to find Roland and apologize. He was so excited about these goddamn croissants and now he’s abandoned them.”

Because of me.

Shit.

When Leoni needs the van, I have to take a local bus from the town near our cottage in the eastern mountains and into Nantshire. It takes an hour and a half, but I enjoy watching thelandscape like a film reel of nature’s splendor. It clears my mind—even better than when I’m driving. I love honing in on the details.

Jagged, snow-capped mountains line the horizon for some of the journey. Eventually, the hills soften into luscious, rolling curves that remind me of the female form. Valleys stretch vast and wide before we pass through the first of many towns lining the journey—Evanshire, Bruck, Seze and Hollywick. Each community stands clustered along the road, like remote islands littered amongst the wild fields.

Despite the distance between them, the aesthetic is almost always the same. Charming, squat houses and shops of weathered stone laden with leafy, possessive vines. Thatched roofs, wooden shutters and cobbled roads snaking through narrow streets.

Eden as an aristocracy has a lot of issues. And let me emphasize,a lot. I’ll be the first vampire to point them out to anyone who cares to listen. I practically live on that soapbox.

Despite its shortcomings and archaic ideals, it’s my home. I wouldn’t trade it for anywhere else in the world.

The sun has dipped below the mountains by the time I reach the vineyard. It’s cold today, and the winter light colors the sky in blended hues of indigo and purple. A few scattered clouds float listless in the impending nightfall.