Tap tap tap

The leaky faucet in the bathroom not far away from us leaked, the sound carried into my shared room with Elisa by the lack of sound enunciated in the dead of the night.

My mind was tapping right along with the faucet. I couldn't sleep, blast it all I couldn't sleep.

It was the dead of the night and rather than sleeping and getting my rest like I should have been doing, I couldn't sleep. I was wide awake, with Elisa, troubled child that she was snuggled closely to me, her bed lying cold, empty and unused.

It had been close to two weeks. Almost two whole weeks since I met Kyle and since Jaira told me she was going to train me.

Two weeks since I had been a slave to Lady Karayan.

Two weeks of barely getting any sleep, being constantly kept on my toes, and not being able to do anything about it.

One would expect that something interesting would have happened in these two weeks given the eventfulness of the first two days but there was nothing. Nothing really happened and that was why I was even more nervous about this whole affair.

I mean, of course you would expect that something should have happened in these two weeks and while my secret being out made me nervous, waiting put me on edge even more. Jaira had been quiet mostly, that is if at all I did see her. She had mostly been absent from the slaves' kitchen and when she came, she just stared at me, smiled and said nothing more. Then before I could talk to her or ask her anything, she would disappear.

I had settled into some sort of routine already. I woke up, took breakfast, tended to Lady Karayan's needs, taught Elisa, hung out at the library...

I had to admit, despite running away from Kyle that first day, I couldn't help but go back to the library every day after that to search for him. Suffice to say, I had not found him. He didn't return and I didn't have the guts to ask anyone in the mansion about him. If at all, I didn't dream of our meeting. A man as handsome as made me stutter and abandon all reason just with one meeting couldn't possibly be real and the fact that I hadn't met with him since then was proof enough that he was probably just a figment of my tired imagination. But why now? I had never cared enough to dream about men before.

Tap tap tap. The leaky faucet continued dripping as Elisa muttered in her dream. I sighed. This was useless. Trying to sleep. Trying to force myself to sleep. These past few days had at least been better because I had gotten a bit of shut eye. Today was different. I could feel it right down to my bones. It was a fading tinkling that spoke of happenings that had not yet occurred. I felt like something was going to happen today, that something was supposed to happen. But what? And after two weeks nonetheless.

After a while, I groaned and gave up completely. Gently disentangling myself from Elisa, I crept out of bed and moved to the side where a lamp was kept. The moon was only half full now and it was not at its brightest. The night was quiet, dark and filled with hidden promise. I should have used my magic. Or at least, the most I knew to light up the way but ever since Jaira had confronted me in the hall, I had been apprehensive to even make the slightest bit of my magic make an appearance. What if there were trackers for such things? Magical trackers? Was that how she had known? The thought had plagued me since that first day.

I fumbled a bit with the lamp in the dark till finally, the glow of the burning wick erupted form inside the lamp, encasing the previously dark room with warm, orange light whose shadows licked the wall, bouncing on it like a faraway furnace.

My legs moved on their own accord, pulled by some strange force and I took the lamp with me, tightening my night dress around myself. It was dangerous and risky moving in the mansion at night as a slave, but I still had Lady Karayan's bracelet on my wrist. Maybe the vampire guards would not kill me for fresh blood. Despite this, I felt little or no fear as I gently closed the door behind me and moved through the halls, my legs unconsciously carrying me to the library.

I had been at this library every day for almost two weeks. Two weeks if one counted the first day and yet, despite knowing that he was probably not going to show up there again, I made my way towards the door. But unlike the previous days, something was different. Something felt different. I felt like I wasn't supposed to be here. Like fate wanted me somewhere else. Which was strange because I didn't know my way around the mansions much. And yet, I followed that madness, that foolhardiness that took me away from the library to some unknown part of the mansion that I had never been in. If I was going to die, it was probably going to be today.

I passed through strange corridors, climbed staircases and branched at bends. I couldn't explain it. I didn't know where I was going to but something just felt right at that particular moment, like I was in the right path. Like I was going to where I need to be in that particular moment.

The more I went, the more the anticipation built in me, like the initial rumblings on the ground just before an earthquake hit. The further I moved, the closer I felt. But to what? I couldn't possibly tell.

Then I heard it. It was faint at first, so faint it almost sounded like from a lost dream. The further I went, the louder it became.

Cords, beautiful soulful notes that spoke of a long, tedious and sorrowful life. Cords, harsh and yet soft in their delivery, speaking of such sorrow that one could only imagine the type of pain the person making such music could be feeling and yet it was so beautiful. It made me dream. It made me live the person's experiences with every note that they struck on the piano. The person wasn't singing no, but the piano spoke volumes for them. My heart broke and yet I wanted more.

I had reached a cut off part of the mansion, a point I knew I definitely wasn't supposed to be in. It looked isolated and yet, at the very end was a slightly opened door through which the music was coming from, a streak of dim light pouring out of the door in a steady stream.

The notes were harsher now, the player seeming to be in their feelings. They struck the piano in multiple places and just as the fast as the harsh notes had come, the music changed and took on a softer melody, a mellow, sullen, yet mesmerizing tune.

I knew I wasn't supposed to be here. I knew I shouldn't be walking towards the music. The person playing clearly wanted to be left alone and I felt like I was intruding upon a private moment. And yet...yet I felt like this was where I was supposed to be at this very moment. I crept to the door, pushing it open with one hand, careful for it to not make a creaking noise.

I thought I was being careful. I thought I was being quiet enough but the second I closed the door behind me, the music stopped abruptly. I looked around in shock. Then I saw him.

"Flower." He whispered, lips slightly parted, still breathing hard from whatever emotion he had been going through, hair buzzed, eyes looking bloodshot, his shirt's first three buttons unbuttoned and barely hanging over his otherwise naked chest. He looked haggard, distraught, and yet positively distracting.

A single lamp stood on a grand piano, the grand piano he had been playing, his hands still hanging over the keys as if I had taken his by surprise. And he did look surprised to see me. I swallowed. How could one person look so perfect even when they were clearly depressed? He looked vulnerable, broken, raw, untamed and exposed. I felt like I was seeing a part of him I wasn't supposed to and yet I wanted nothing more than to reach out to him and soothe away every hurt.

"Flower..." He whispered again with more motion and my breath hitched in my throat. I wrapped my free hand around my body and lowered my eyes away from his.

Kyle looked very real to me and despite searching for him for two weeks, I had not been prepared to see him again. Especially not like this.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to intrude." I apologized quickly, feeling truly sorry even though the feeling that I was supposed to be here didn't dissipate at all.

I heard a whoosh of air and whilst he had formerly been seated on the piano bench, he was now directly in front of me, reachable if only I reached out. I was shivering and it wasn't even because of the cold. His close proximity was doing things to my body that I didn't even know could be done. Goosebumps raised on my flesh and I raised my eyes tentatively to look up at him. He was staring at me with an emotion so strange and so fierce that I almost fell apart from the intensity of it but for some reason, I held my ground.

Vampire. The thought suddenly registered in my head. Kyle was a vampire. I knew vampires were ruthless and I barely knew Kyle but he didn't seem ruthless to me. I felt.... safe around him. Strange. I never felt safe anywhere but somehow I knew he wouldn't harm me.

And heavens, could the man button his shirt properly? His glistening chest leading down to hard formed abdominal muscles before being completely covered by the rest of the shirt was making it hard for me to breathe properly and think properly. What was I even doing? Right. Apologizing.

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't be here. I..." I rambled but wasn't able to finish because a cold hand suddenly touched my lips, shutting me up. I shivered. He shivered. We both shivered? What was going on?

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as if trying to get his bearings then pulled away his hand from my lips so fast. I missed the contact and yet I felt like I could breathe again when he was not touching me. He slowly opened his eyes, his expression fierce, intense, burning and focused on me. I felt like I should say something just to break the intensity of the moment.

"It was beautiful. The music was beautiful." I whispered. That seemed to break him out of his trance. He started like he wanted to say something but then he stopped. He then smiled a small, sad smile that broke my heart more than it should and said,

"Art; music, literature, poetry, paintings and much more are subjective don't you think? The artist creates and everyone is left to interpret it however they wish. You thought my music was beautiful whereas...." He trailed off. I wanted to know what else he wanted to say. What he thought. What he meant.

"Whereas?" I inquired, unable to keep my curiosity at bay. He chuckled a sad chuckle and looked back at the piano.

"I've not played in centuries. My opinion does not matter."

I wanted to reach out to him. I wanted to tell him his opinion mattered. But heavens, I didn't even know this man. And yet it felt like I did. Was I that self-important and delusional? Then, just as if night switched to day, his expression changed so drastically you would have never believed he had just looked broken. Now, he looked normal, like everyone else. Something told me what he had on now was a mask. This new Kyle smiled and stroked my shoulder, my flesh sizzling in the wake of his fingers.

"I want to show you something tomorrow. I will find you." He smirked.