Part 21. The Vampire's Maid

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The car pulled up into the ostentatious driveway and peering out of the dark window, I could almost believe that I was the heroine in a Jane Austen movie about to arrive at a grand mansion with my hero by my side. The reality of the situation was jolted back into my mind as the passenger door was opened from the outside. Joe's face, bored and easily readable, stared down at me. The shock struck his features like a lightning bolt.

"Lizzy?" He hissed. "What are you doing here with him?"

He jerked his head towards Ashley who was ignoring our interaction politely. I stepped out of the car and avoided Joe's touch and his gaze. The door slammed loudly behind me and I turned to see Joe marching around to the driver's side angrily. He yanked the door open and thrust a black umbrella into Ashley's expectant hands.

"Thank you," Ashley responded lightly.

With the umbrella shielding him from the sun, Ashley escorted me up the driveway. I wanted to smile at the look of shock on Joe's face.

"Joe," I scolded as I brushed past him. "Don't be rude!"

"You know," Ashley remarked. "I'm not sure your friend the mechanic likes me."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me into yet another room that I'd never encountered. Blood red armchairs littered this room and a fire burned fiercely in a grate. Ashley bolted the door and I noticed that despite being the smallest room I'd seen in the house, it was also the most romantic. This thought, however, was unimportant because there were so many questions that I longed to ask Ashley. Romance would have to wait.

"How old is Dane?" I asked.

I could tell by Ashley's face that this question had come as a surprise. He traced the fabric on his armchair before answering.

"Ninety two."

"So he only has one year left." I murmured.

"How do you know that?" Ashley asked, a look of curiousness crossing his face.

"Well, all vampires live until ninety three. I noticed on the portraits in the entrance hall that they all died on their ninety-third year."

"I'm impressed," Ashley complimented. "But before you ask, I don't know why we die at ninety three. I don't know if I'll die at ninety three either because of my mother."

"That confused me at first. When I found out that your mother died at thirty one I wondered why that was. Then, of course, I saw that she was obviously human."

I'd avoided mentioning his mother but I felt that the time was now right to lose these boundaries. His reaction, however, made me wish I hadn't.

"How do you know that she was thirty one? How did you see that she was human?"

He grasped my arm tightly and his eyes searched my face frantically. I mouthed wordlessly until I could finally form a sentence.

"Well, I saw her portrait. That's how I knew who she was."

"Her portrait?"

Ashley's voice was hollow and empty. Seeming lost in his own memories, a forlorn expression crossed his face. When he spoke again his voice was returned to its normal tone.

"I didn't know there was one."

I wanted to ask him what he meant but the words didn't seem to rise in my throat. I didn't want to push him too far as I had last time his mother had been mentioned. Ashley answered my silent question without looking up and I marvelled at how well he was starting to recognise the little signs I gave off when I wanted information.

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