Year of the Vampire Page 8

  Chapter Nine

  They made it out of the library and across the quiet street in moments. Ivy could see that Deidre was still on the lookout for the bird of prey, as she had termed it, but the late afternoon sky was clear of predators. After they dropped Deidre off at the dance studio, where three of her friends exchanged laughing whispers about Dred, he and Ivy set off out of town.

  She didn't quite recall agreeing to go with him to Brylinden Hall, but there she was, in step with him.

  "If you want to know anything about the Hall," he said, "you can ask me, you know."

  "But you're new here."

  "I can still find out." His eyes were raised to the treetops nearly bare of leaves, their long branches reaching into the sky like black fingers. "Ask me anything."

  She nodded, actually thinking about the offer. "So, whose house is it? I mean, so many of your family live there, but who actually owns it?" She realized how overstepping it sounded, and added, "If you don't mind answering."

  "I don't really know." He chuckled, glancing to her as the Hall came into view. "It's just in the family. For a long time, you know?"

  She nodded, marveling again at the regal, somehow moody Hall.

  "Some of us pass through, kinda, like Strasse and Stansa during the summers, I hear." He pushed open the wrought iron gate between the brick pillars at the proper entrance of the estate. "And for troublemakers."

  "Like you?" she asked without thinking. "I mean—"

  "Sometimes." He laughed and let her through the gate, then followed and closed the gate behind them. "Others, too."

  "I didn't mean it, Dred," she said hastily.

  "It's all right." He headed them up the front steps between the tall, square pillars standing like sentinels at the stone entry.

  The late sun was suddenly dimmed by a large mass passing over the house.

  Ivy stopped halfway up the steps, looking up, but not seeing whatever had flown over. "Did you see that?"

  "No. Maybe a cloud."

  She looked at the other clouds, all moving languidly across the dark blue and purple sky. "It was moving too quick."

  "Must have been Deidre's bird of prey," he said, laughing as he opened the door.

  Ivy crossed the stone porch and stepped inside the house, into the front entryway. "Maybe."

  "Has Evandis started a new sculpture?"

  "How do you know about that?" He stopped, staring at her.

  She shrugged, unsure she should mention what Vohn had told her. "He seemed so broken up over it, I thought he'd—"

  "Yeah, he is. He's got the marble in the second floor drawing room now."

  She looked up the staircase. "That was quick."

  "Evandis keeps a lot of marble on hand, buys it up when he finds something he likes. It's heavy, though, so most is in the basement." He rubbed his shoulder. "It took four of us to lug it up."

  "Vohn, too?"

  He laughed, nodding as he started off across the ballroom. "Vohn mostly, yeah."

  They were halfway to the doorway to the kitchen when quick steps on the staircase made Ivy look there.

  A parachute-sized lilac skirt whirled down the steps, cinched at the waist by a tight corset, above its neckline Scarlet's pale neck and slender arms seeming to float as she glided down the case. She reached the bottom in seconds, twirling in a series of perfect pique turns, stopping to face Ivy and Dred.

  Ivy smiled at the display, holding her breath as the woman swept across the parquet to them. "Beautiful . . ."

  "Do you think so?" Scarlet's hair was pulled up, a few tendril's falling to each side of her face. "Why, thank you, Ivybelle."

  "Are you doing the play?"

  Dred cleared his throat. "Yeah, they're working on something."

  Scarlet's head lifted, sending Ivy a poised, aloof appraisal. "I play the lead, naturally, in our little play. I'm going out to the garden," she said, looking back over her shoulder in a dramatic fashion, her dark hair lying on her shoulder in a wispy tease, "to be gazed upon." She disappeared down another hallway Ivy knew led to the back gardens.

  "Who's going to look at her?" Ivy asked, following him into the kitchen.

  "Rocky. He's gonna paint her again. With Rimbladt." He rolled his eyes as he opened an overhead cupboard in the painted white hutch. "Some Georgian debbie-can't thing."

  "I think you mean debutante."

  "Close enough."

  She peeked out the window of the door that led out to the kitchen herb garden. "Who's Rimbladt?" Past the dying off herbal plants in the small, raised bed, she could see Rockfort setting up an easel as Scarlet crossed the grass to him. Rockfort turned as she neared, made a sweeping gesture to the white wicker chair a few yards away, and bowed to her faux curtsy.

  "Uh, our cousin. The guy Vohn beat when he decapitated the statue." He laughed. "Kind of low-key nobility from some little country that still needs titles. In Europe."

  "Real nobility?" Ivy marveled at the scene, which she knew was likely not a scene at all, but rather the artist's natural mannerisms as he positioned Scarlet for her sitting. "I don't see him yet."

  "Yeah, he's probably off sharpening his swords or something."

  A loud clunk from high above jerked her attention to the ceiling. A rumble of something hard rolling followed.

  "That's Evandis now," Dred said. "Chunking off marble on the second floor."

  She smiled, looking upward, something satisfying in the sound of the prissy man's resilience.

  "Face up," Dred said, tossing her a small item.

  Ivy barely caught the mini-size candy bar. She sent him a look. "Face up? What is that, a hockey term?"

  "No, it's like, 'hey, this is coming your way.'" He shrugged, ripping off his candy's wrapper and stuffing the whole piece in his mouth. "I hear it all the time at school. Don't you? Or don't girls say that kind of stuff?"

  "You mean heads up, not face up." She opened the candy, smiling at the chocolaty whiff it brought. "Thanks."

  "Oh. Heads up. Got it." He grabbed a few more miniature-sized candy packages and pushed the pumpkin-shaped bowl back into the cupboard and closed the door. "Let's go, check out 'Vandis' work. Give him some pointers, eh?"

  The drawing room on the second floor was everything Ivy expected in a drawing room, from its Louis XIV style tables and chairs to the oriental folding screens blocking off what appeared to be a work area. Ivy stopped as soon as she stepped in the doorway, feeling Dred nearly collide with her as he stepped to her side. He prodded her in, staying close.

  "Don't worry about disturbing him," he said. He spoke more, but the swooning draw of a harp down the hall drowned out most of his words. He cleared his throat and escorted her in.

  Evandis was in camel tan pants and an off-white linen shirt that hung loose, its frilled sleeve cuffs rolled up into bulky folds below his elbows. His hair was tied back at the nape of his neck with a deep blue ribbon, but that was where any soft appearance ended. He was nearly leaned to a large, upright sofa-size piece of green-veined white marble that formed a bed-size block at its base, a hammer in one hand and a large chisel in the other, intent on the jagged edge of chunk he'd already removed. His face was set in determination, losing any previously effeminate appearance Ivy had noted. The muscles in his shoulders bunched as he struck the hammer on the end of the chisel, cracking off tightly-crystallized pieces of marble in small slivers.

  Ivy felt as if she'd stepped back into the seventeenth century as she stood gazing around the room. On every wall, panels of dark and light marquetry depicted scenes from what she guessed were Old World fairytales. The few chairs were gilt and chalk-white painted wood in French styles she had only seen onstage or in old TV movies. The chandelier was gilded bronze, with flame-shaped bulbs in place of candles.

  A ripple from the harp made Evandis glance to the door in irritation. His face immediately changed to a broad smile when he saw Ivy and Dred. He laid his tools on the gilt gesso table nearby and quickly tied the loose cravat at his throat, h
iding her quick glimpse of his pale chest.

  "Ah! You should have announced we had a visitor," he chided Dred, flipping a loopy tie at his throat. He smoothed back the ruffles of blond hair hanging near his face and gave Ivy a smile as he tucked a gold watch fob into his front pants pocket. "Pleased to see you so soon, Ivybelle."

  She resisted a giggle and smiled, nodding. "And you, too, Evandis."

  Dred gave them both a scornful look. "How very proper, you two. She just wanted to see what was making all the noise," he told Evandis. "Wanna show her your new man?"

  Evandis sent him a seething look, one with no hint of frivolity, Ivy noted. He stepped aside, gesturing to the block of marble with one top corner knocked off. "Behold a small mountain of marble, Ivybelle."

  "Anyway," Dred said dryly with searing glare at Evandis, "it's gonna be a man, right, Evandis? He doesn't carve many women."

  Evandis met Ivy and held out a hand to her, gesturing to the marble with the other. "Perhaps I've lacked the inspiration, you unmannered child," he half-snapped to Dred, leading Ivy to the marble. "Can you see the figure in the stone?" he asked her. "Or do you see a woman? I would very much like to . . ."

  She stared long at the veiny marble, nodding slowly. "Well, I'm untrained in this type of art," she said as he walked behind her. "And all art, really."

  Evandis circled her slowly, studying her. "Training is overrated."

  "That's not what you said last night," Dred recalled.

  "Hush, child." Evandis paused at Ivy's left side, then backed up a few steps, deep in thought as he considered her.

  "Kinda looks like your dress, don't it, Ivy?" Dred said. He stood beside her, crossing his arms over his chest as they both gazed at the marble, trying to see a figure in it.

  She nodded. "Oh, yes. It does."

  Evandis frowned. "What dress?"

  "She's making a costume for Halloween," Dred said. "She's going as Scarlett."

  "We have a Scarlet." Evandis cocked his head to one side. "I don't think she would permit—"

  "Scarlett from Gone with the Wind," Dred clarified.

  Evandis' head snapped up, locking eyes with Ivy. "Are you?"

  She nodded. "Well, as best as I can do, with my skills. The fabric is correct, and I have a good pattern, so I hope to recreate a close copy." She smiled as a wide grin claimed his face.

  "Oh, that would be lovely, Ivybelle." He snapped his fingers. "That's what I should do, too!"

  "Oh, gods," Dred groaned.

  "What?" She looked up at him. "What's wrong—?"

  "Would you mind so very much?" Evandis stepped between them, eyes on Ivy. "I need to see the very precise color of your eyes."

  She couldn't help but look back at him, timid as he leaned to gaze pointedly into her eyes. She felt as if some of her soul had slipped away.

  "Uh, hey," Dred said, shouldering between them. "That's enough, Evandis. You know what she looks like."

  "What's going on?" Vohn's voice came from the doorway.

  Dred glanced to him there as Evandis stepped back, turning to appraise the marble again. Ivy looked to Vohn, frowning at the severe look on his face.

  "Maeve wants to see you," he said to Dred. His tone softened as he addressed Ivy. "You can wait down the hall. Shouldn't be too long."

  Dred grumbled something she didn't hear before stomping to the doorway, brushing past Vohn. Ivy glanced to Evandis, who was absorbed in the marble once again. She started across the room as Dred disappeared out the door.

  "Is he in trouble?" she asked Vohn when she met him.

  "Not really." He backed a step to allow her to pass. "Just something about grades, I think."

  "Oh." She left the room, turning to see Vohn close the door to within a crack, remaining inside.

  "Looks good, Evandis," he said, his voice muted.

  "It is still a rock," came the man's stiff response.

  "You're still angry." There was remorse in Vohn's tone. "I'm sorry, really, Evandis."

  "And well you should be. You and your ruffian skills."

  "You're no slouch with a sword yourself, Evandis."

  Ivy started down the hallway, still listening.

  "I do not carve up other people's skillmanship."

  She heard no more as the harp grew louder. The hall was empty, save the few sideboard tables against the walls, this time with dried bachelor's buttons in shades of blue and crimson. The simple, delicate chords of the harp descended in a repeat pattern, seeming to invite Ivy into the last door down the hall. A sliver of light beamed from the mostly shut door, shadowed a few times by movement inside.

  By the time she got to the door, the music had changed, still the arpeggio, but now more robust. Confident that the sound would camouflage any squeak of the door, she pushed it open a bit more, straining to see inside before Jovan could notice.

  The door opened, showing the mauve and lilac room of wainscot and white-painted columns. He was at the harp, facing her as he leaned the instrument to him, seated on a gold brocade bench. He was intent on the strings beneath his hands as his fingers glided over them, head bent low, as if listening to the instrument whisper.

  Ivy stayed at the doorway, peeking around the door, able to see the room in better detail this time. She stood mesmerized by the watery sound the strings vibrated. She had rarely seen a harp in person and never seen one played live. Jovan was dressed much like the night in the garden, except now in dark and light blues. He ended the song, letting it fade out in sound, and looked up at her.

  She backed a step, ready to close the door.

  "Do you play, Ivy?" he asked, sitting back on the bench.

  She shook her head. "Oh, no. No, not me."

  "You should." He let the harp tilt to rest and stood, extending his hand to her. "Let me see."

  She took a few steps before thinking. "See? See what, Mr. Mervani?"

  He grinned quickly, showing perfect teeth in a friendlier smile than she expected. "So formal. Jovan, please, Ivy."

  She met him at the harp, surprised at how tall it was when resting.

  He took her hand in a gentle hold, firmer when she resisted slightly. "You should play, if not the harp, at least the piano." He pulled her closer to the bench. "Try."

  "Oh, no," she said, giggling nervously as he positioned her behind the soundbox.

  "It's easy." His hand pushed on her shoulder, decisively, until she sat on the bench. He stood beside her and cupped her hand inside his, aligning it to press against the strings. "It's a bit large for you."

  She flinched as he sat behind her, one leg on either side of her, his knees on the outsides of hers. "Uh, Jo-Jovan, I-I think—"

  "We'll start with something simple," he said, his arms reaching around to her sides, his left never leaving her hand.

  She swallowed nervously as he tipped the harp shoulder back to her neck, but rested it mostly on his own, his face hovering near her ponytail. His right hand drew hers to the other side of the harp so that both her arms extended to the strings.

  "The harp is the most graceful instrument a woman can play," he said nearly in her ear. "Some men claim the piano, but I think it lacks a certain elegance."

  Her breath hitched, her heart running faster as he placed her fingers against the strings. With a few deft brushes, a cascading sound came from the harp, light and murmuring, like something she felt should be in a museum. She let his fingers propel hers along the strings, tensing a few times when she moved too quickly or slipped off. By the time their fingers had ridden back to the shorter strings twice, she was smiling.

  "Want to try it yourself?" he asked, a smile in his voice.

  She didn't look at him, tempted to try solo. She knew it wouldn't work, and only erase the pleasing sound they had produced. "Oh, I know I cannot by myself."

  He raised their hands again. "Now, for something more substantive."

  She withdrew until her back pressed to him, then sat forward again. "I, um, I don't know—"

  "I think Bach. T
occata and Fugue in—"

  "What are you doing?" Vohn asked, stepping around the open door.

  Ivy recoiled, settling against Jovan's chest without realizing it.

  Vohn scowled, but not quite at her. "She's a young girl, Jovan."

  "And talented." Jovan let her hands slip from his. "Too talented not to teach."

  She lifted from him, feeling a blush run the length of her body as she tried to nudge one knee from his in hopes of escape. He sighed, his breath passing over her neck, and moved his leg so she could stand up.

  She shuddered involuntarily, rattled and feeling emotionally frail.

  Jovan smiled at her, a one-sided smile that renewed her blush. "Do you need to sit down for a moment, Ivy? You look uneasy."

  "N-No." She took a deep breath and hugged her arms close, her neck still warm from his exhale. "I, um, should go home now."

  "Perhaps next time."

  "Come on," Vohn said.

  She knew he was talking to her, but Jovan's attention kept her rooted to the floor.

  "Ivy!" Dred's voice echoed down the hallway. "Ivy!"

  Her senses snapped abruptly into place. "Thank you for the chance to . . . do that," she said to Jovan, looking to the harp. "Thanks."

  She couldn't quite call it playing, not when he had done it all while she merely followed his movements, but she wasn't sure what it was, and no words came to her mind to express what it was. She hurried to the hallway, passing by Vohn, who stood immobile, and saw Dred at the end.

  "There you are," Dred said, shooting Vohn a glare.

  "Hi." She met him at the end of the hall. "Are you in trouble with Maeve?"

  "Naw. Nothing I can't get outta."

  Chapter Ten

  The incident with Jovan and Evandis barely registered with Ivy the next morning. She awoke with a surreal feeling of having slept for a week. Her memories were vague and she felt she was in a dreamlike state.

  She tried to brush it off as she got dressed.

  Less than a week left before Camille's party and she still needed to finish her costume. "Too much time hanging with Dred," she mumbled, dressing quickly. "Maybe he is bad company. Can't remember a thing lately."