YEAR OF THE VAMPIRE 12

Chapter 12

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Jan 11, 2025

Music from: Niflheim

Ivy frowned after Dred as he left, then settled back into the cushion. It was embroidered with a dark pattern of black, golds, and deep reds with a few hints of navy and green. The alcove was a deep bay window, rising above the patio and garden and lawn outside. Its tall panes of glass gave a clear view of the backyard and over the dividing hedges to either side of the property, but the baring trees blocked much view of the two vacant lots. She hadn't really thought about that before, the vacant land flanking the Hall.

"You parry like Evandis!" a male voice shouted from outside.

"You thrust like him!" shouted a deeper tone.

"Damn you!" A laugh followed. "And you know that?"

A long string of cursing came from the first man.

Ivy stood and leaned a knee on the cushion to see across the seat better. With her head nearly touching the window pane, she could see more of the patio below. Among the statues, two figures, both male, circled each other, swords in their hands. Both were tall, one a little thicker built than the shorter, and both crossing swords in a whipping fashion before them.

"Two centuries of training on me and you still can't keep up!"

Ivy stood, blinking. She cocked her head to one side when the figures clashed blades again and one beat the other back to the far end of the circle of statues. She recognized one, the one who had just spoken. It was Vohn.

"Two centuries?" she murmured.

The taller figure's sword lashed, nearly clipping Vohn's T-shirt. Vohn leapt back and retaliated with a quick charge. The taller man ducked the third flash of blade, which struck a statue. The head of the male statue in a toga toppled off. It rolled to a stop near a flower pot.

"Ha!" the man cried, pointing his sword at Vohn. "Evandis will be livid!"

"He can grow it another!" Vohn shouted.

"What is going on?" a third man's voice demanded.

Ivy moved to the next panel of glass to see the patio more directly below her.

The potted, drying plants were positioned to block off the lawn, hiding the man and a woman standing on the patio stones.

"Vohn has decapitated Evandis' second favorite work," the man said, nodding to Vohn. He was dressed in dark leather pants and a gray tunic belted at the waist by a holster belt.

"You'll have hell to pay for that," the woman said. She was in a tattered red dress, long and sweeping, with one sleeveless shoulder ripped.

The third man turned, and Ivy recognized him as Rockfort. She thought at first that the woman was Scarlet, but when the woman turned, she noticed her hair was not piled in an updo, but was cut short, barely dropping chin length.

The deep bellow of a cello drew from down the hallway, and Ivy saw Vohn look there. The baritone melody continued, something menacing in its notes, as if echoing the argument on the patio. Vohn looked from the Hall, away from where Ivy watched, to Ivy's window. He stalked toward the Hall, looking up at the other second floor window.

"Cut it, Mandrake!" Vohn ordered.

Ivy stepped back and looked down the hallway. All the doors were still closed. She edged forward, peeking out the window. Vohn was gone, and his fencing partner had joined Rockfort and the woman on the patio.

"Hey, let's go," Dred said from behind her.

Ivy yelped and turned, clutching her soda can. "Okay."

He glanced at the window, scowling. "Uh, they're doing a play."

"Really?" She warmed to the subject. "Like, for a playhouse? A theater?"

"Yeah. Out of town. Not sure where."

"Was that Scarlet?"

He walked them to the room he had earlier. This time, the door was open, exposing a somewhat orderly and definitely male-owned bedroom. "No. That's Berella, Scarlet's sister."

"Sister," she murmured, pausing at the doorway.

The room was well-lit and open, with a twin bed against the near wall, a desk at another, and a modest fireplace between two tall windows.

Something about the confines made her hesitate.

"Unless you'd rather, you know, not be alone with me," he said.

She felt his breath on her neck, just to the side of her ponytail. She shook her head, feeling his chin just above her ear. "Um, well, it's not—"

"We can leave the door open."

She looked up at him, seeing a void in his dark eyes.

"Dred!" Evandis called from the first floor.

Ivy bit her lip as he turned down the hall.

"What do you want?" he yelled.

"Have you seen the mirror from the library?"

Dred paled, his expression drooping. "Damn girlie-man. What's he need to see everything for?"

"A mirror?"

"Yeah. Hang on." He nodded to the room. "Go on in. I'll be right back."

He was gone before she could speak.

She stood at the doorway, looking into the room. It wasn't a bad room, not poorly lit or musty-smelling; just something in the air that felt foreboding.

She stepped inside, feeling nothing, and then took a few more steps. The floorboards were weathered light brown, the Oriental rug frayed and faded. The bedspread was somewhat smoothed, the pillow plumped. The windows were dusty but from the outside. She decided it wasn't too bad, his room, but something about being alone with him, knowing so little about him—and with no parental figures in place—made her reluctant.

The door creaked and she looked to it.

It slowly swung shut.

Ivy gasped. At the back of the door hung a full-length mirror with beveled sides and ornate frame of brass. In it she saw the hallway, not the bedroom she was in, as if it was a window rather than mirror. She took a deep breath, curious at the trick of imagery. She moved her hand, seeing no reflection or movement in the glass. From down the hall, the cello music resumed, this time slow and fluid, a summoning sound in its undertones.

She slowly crossed the floor, waiting to see her reflection in the mirror, but none appeared. She stood directly before it, holding her breath as she reached for the brass doorknob. It turned easily, creaking as she pulled the door open.

She quickly stepped into the hallway. The cello music drew on, from a room closer to the stair landing. She made her way there, hearing male voices from below in a low argument. When she got to the room where the music was loudest, she stopped, watching the slightly ajar door, willing herself to push it open a little more.

She put a hand to the door, pushing gently. The door opened noiselessly, swinging open more than she intended.

Inside the bright light of late afternoon sun streamed in, a warm welcome flooding her. A light-colored wood grand piano squatted on a navy and cream Persian rug, its keys exposed below the sheet music propped above. More papers with hand-drawn musical notes were scattered on the closed lid. Two music stands and a Queen Anne sofa were across the room, with open doors to a balcony directly across from where Ivy stood.

From the balcony came the cello, low and bare, sounding forsaken and ominous.

Ivy stood still, watching the balcony. Out it she could see the edge of a man's bent knee and the side of a riding boot. He was seated, she could tell, and every now and then, she saw his elbow come into view as he played, his camel tan shirtsleeve rolled up.

She looked back to the sheet music at the piano. The upright pages were handwritten, the title in scrolling penmanship. Year of the Bone.

Her eyes flicked back to the balcony as Mandrake's hair wove into view. He tilted his head, not quite looking at her, seemingly sensing her, his playing uninterrupted.

She silently backtracked, realizing she'd stepped into the room a few feet too far. When she got to the door, she quickly left, closed it to within a few inches of the doorjamb, and hurried to the staircase.

". . . working on it right now," Maeve's voice floated up from the bottom floor.

Ivy slowed her steps, unsure of the protocol for girls in the house of mainly males.

"I'm glad we're not traveling this year. I can do with another decade before the graveyard route again." It was Branard.

"Ivy's here!" Dred nearly screeched from another ground floor room.

Ivy stopped, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

There was a whisper, and then Maeve called, "Hi, Ivy."

Ivy continued down, knowing she was likely just out of sight around the curve of stairs along the wall.

Sure enough, two steps later, Maeve and Branard appeared, ascending the case.

"Hi," Ivy said, searching Maeve's face.

Maeve raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on her lips. Branard chuckled, nodding to her.

"We were working on a school project," Ivy heard herself say, feeling a blush swell over her cheeks.

Maeve nodded down the staircase. "Dred's in the—"

"Oh, gods!" Evandis' scream broke in. "Oh, how could this be? How? Who?" He was outside, his voice uncharacteristically manly and still waveringly shrill.

The cello music stopped.

Maeve crooked a smile. "Come on down, Ivy. Have you met Evandis yet?"

"Oh, yes." Ivy hurried down.

In the garden, a small group had gathered. Ivy knew a few of them, being Vohn, Rockfort, Evandis, and Berella by Dred's reference, but there were a few she did not. Evandis knelt by the decapitated statue, the stone head held close, cradling it like a slain brother in arms. He wasn't crying, but close to it. Rockfort looked bored, Vohn slightly guilty, and the man he had sparred with, a bit annoyed.

He looked at Ivy as she approached, his black hair swept back with a strand hanging over his brow. His rapier was still in his hand, twisting in impatience.

Dred stood beside Ivy, half hiding her as Evandis blubbered something about his workmanship.

"Take her out of here," Vohn said, his stare on Ivy.

Ivy stepped back as Dred blocked more of her.

All eyes went to her. For a moment, even Evandis glanced her way. For a longer moment, Ivy felt as if she had stepped back in time, to a transitory moment of Victorian confusion where the industrial age had invaded something far older. It was a feeling she got sometimes when she was backstage at Lornie's play practice amid all the strange props. It wasn't until she stepped back at their scrutiny and her book bag slipped from her shoulder, that the rattle of crochet needles inside snapped the moment.

"Dred," Maeve said, "maybe your friend shouldn't be here for this."

Ivy nodded as Dred turned to her, eclipsing the other stares.

"Yeah, no one wants to see Evandis cry," Dred said, chuckling as he took her elbow. "Let's go, Ivy."

"Actually," she said, pulling the bag strap back up, "I should go." She caught a quick glimpse of his metal watch. "Past six already! I'm late, Dred." She gave a timid wave to everyone, casting a remorseful look to Evandis.

He looked up from the blond drape of hair over his face, nodding to her.

"I always lose track of time here," she mumbled as Dred ushered her across the yard to the hedges.

Evandis hugged the stone head closer to his chest, his face buried in blond hair as he lowered his head.

"Bye," she said to Dred as they reached the hedge opening.

"I guess time just slipped by." He leaned an elbow on the hedge top and it let him sink in. He jerked upright, resuming his composure. "Maybe tomorrow?"

"Maybe. I teach a class after school at the library, so that would work fine." She looked beyond him. In the garden, some of the Hall residents were drifting away, most back to the house. When all had left, only Vohn stood over the crouching figure of Evandis. He looked irritated, but finally squatted, appearing to speak to the miserable man. Ivy looked to the house when she saw a movement there.

Mandrake stood on the second floor balcony, the cello upright in one hand as he watched Evandis and Vohn. He glanced to Ivy.

Her gaze went to Dred. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Dred!" Maeve's voice rang out.

Dred rolled his eyes. "All right. Bye, Ivy."