Chapter 8: An Understanding in the Morning

Casey lounged on a fainting couch in the library wearing the large bathrobe, her wet hair wrapped in a towel. She held a book open in one hand. Lavinia had been right. This was very macabre and cool. It was also incredibly confusing and boring.

Outside the windows in the library, the stars and snowflakes were indistinguishable from each other. It was warm inside the house, though. It normally was, and Casey was increasingly sure it was related to Lavinia being corpse cold.

Conveniently, it was at that moment that Lavinia entered wearing a loose nightgown and robe.

“Good morning, Casey.” She smiled as she crossed the room to a record player and began perusing the box of records nearby.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Casey said absently, still reading.

“We need to get you a robe of your own, hmm?” Lavinia chose a record. It was classical, and this record began with a large number of cellos accompanied by flute and piano.

Casey knew that Lavinia had more modern music, but she always played classical in the morning, right before they went to sleep.

Casey looked at her over the edge of her book and raised an eyebrow. “That would be nice, ma’am.”

If she’d just let her leave the house Casey could solve that problem.

“We can go to the store this week.”

Lavinia sat in a lush chair near Casey’s couch. “We need food, anyway.” She picked up a sketch pad and a box of pencils from a side table and, flipping to a page, started sketching.

Casey went back to reading and the two lapsed into silence. This was strangely common in the last couple of weeks. Casey couldn’t quite place where it started, but at some point she and Lavinia started spending their mornings together.

Sometimes they never spoke a word. Sometimes they conversed about the night. Other times they talked about what they were reading or doing. Casey strangely found this nice.

She still wasn’t sure how to feel about Lavinia but at least she wasn’t alone. Sometimes just having another person in the room was enough.

“What do you hope to do with your life?” Lavinia asked abruptly, her hand never ceasing its delicate strokes.

Casey furrowed her brow and looked at Lavinia. “Excuse me, mistress?” she tacked the title onto every other sentence, now after weeks in the house.

Lavinia frowned and looked at her. “What do you hope to do with your life?” She returned her gaze to the page but her frown remained.

“What made you want to ask that, ma’am?” Casey closed her book. Lavinia’s hand stopped moving.

“I know very little about you. We didn’t properly meet before I bought you.” Her hand began slowly tracing and shading whatever she had drawn. “I got curious.”

Casey blinked in disbelief before speaking. “I was hoping to maybe find a job that I don’t hate. Maybe write a book when I grow old. Ultimately I just want to be happy.” She fiddled with the hem of the robe. “I don’t want to worry about money. And I want to be myself.”

A thought struck her. “What did you want for your life?” She looked at Lavinia, who furrowed her brow. “Mistress,” Casey tacked on.

“You can call me by my name, Casey.” Lavinia looked at her over the pad. “For now, in this room.”

Casey was almost scandalized. Why the sudden change of heart? “Okay” she drew it out. “What did you want…Lavinia?”

“I suppose what any woman wants.” Lavinia shrugged while studying the page. “To not be shackled to anyone.” She began moving the pencil again.

“When I was young, after the war, I wanted my own farm and a husband to tend it. A piece of land all to my own. Pigs, horses,” she paused, “children.” Her face shifted, her eyes became tempests of sorrow before Casey’s very eyes.

“But it turns out men…did not interest me. And you must know man to bear the fruits of consummation. So I wanted what any woman with my…affliction…wanted. A nunnery, surrounded by the creatures of my desire.”

She seemed to come back to herself. “But that was a long time ago, now.”

Casey was dumbfounded. What does one say to someone who has seen the world turn on its head time and again. “I’m…sorry.” Casey found that she truly meant it. “I know how some of that feels.”

Lavinia perked up slightly. “Oh?”

Casey’s stomach turned. “My parents didn’t take my…preferences well, even though that included men.”

Lavinia met her gaze and smiled. Not the way one smiles at an employee or a pet. It was the way someone smiles at a friend, warm and honest. “I’m sorry too. Some hardships are older than me.”

She looked down. It struck Casey again how full of sorrow her eyes were. “And some curses are given at birth, rather than bite.”

“It isn’t a curse.” Casey shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry that you’ve been made to think that way.”

“All the same, Casey, we’re cursed with some desires as inevitable as the tides.” Lavinia chuckled and sniffed. “No matter how much we fight it.”

Casey felt like she wasn’t just talking about liking women anymore. They lulled into silence.

Eventually, Casey worked up enough courage to probe further. “Did you actually become a nun?”

Lavinia snorted. “God, no.” She smirked. “I died before I could.”

She was quiet, and eventually Casey attempted to read her book again. Lavinia kept glancing at her every now and again.

“You know,” she began just when Casey had found her place in the book, “you’re doing exceptional. Here, I mean.” Lavinia smiled, but the sorrow hadn’t dissipated from her. “You replaced the rug in the entrance hall. When did you do that?”

Casey chuckled weakly. “This evening. I couldn’t get the stain out of the old one.” She didn’t meet Lavinia’s eyes.

“I don’t have a lot to do in my free time so I wander the house and I found one of the basements and it happened to have a rug that I thought would be a good replacement. I dusted it and everything but it still smells sort of musty.”

“A lot of my things smell that way, here. A child once said I smelled like his grandparent’s house.” Lavinia was studying the page, nodding.

Casey laughed, and meant it.

Lavinia looked up, smiling. “What’s so funny about me smelling like old people?” she lowered the pad to her lap. “It sort of hurt!”

“Lavinia, respectfully, I don’t think you can call people over three hundred years younger than you ‘old people’.” Casey smiled, shaking her head.

“Do I look old to you?” Lavinia gestured to herself.

Casey studied her inquisitively for a moment. She truly resembled a porcelain doll or a painting. Almost eggshell white with hair as black as coal. She was incredibly beautiful, and Casey wasn’t afraid to admit that.

She thought she caught the slightest of blushes on Lavinia’s face as Casey studied her. “No.” Casey finally said. “You don’t look old at all.” She smiled softly.

“The secret is not feeling the sun since France had a king,” Lavinia sighed.

“You’re french?” Casey was baffled.

Lavinia nodded. “I’ve been living on this side of the ocean longer than America existed. I’ve had time to lose my accent.”

Casey was fascinated, and things had become very informal. “Would you mind if I ask some questions about…um…”

“Vampires?” Lavinia asked. Casey nodded. “Of course.” Lavinia smiled wider. “I perhaps owe you some answers.”

Questions and possibilities swirled in Casey’s mind. She chose one of the most burning ones. “What kills you? Them?”

Lavinia chuckled and raised an eyebrow but focused on the sketch pad again. “Do I need to be worried, Casey?”

Casey paused long enough for Lavinia to meet her eyes before answering. “No. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Lavinia held her gaze for a few moments. Casey felt the gaze peering into her soul.

“As I said earlier. Holy water and silver. Wooden stakes, sunlight, and fire are also pretty nasty.” Lavinia focused on the page again.

Casey thought of Master Ardashir. “Do you all need to be invited inside of buildings?”

Lavinia shook her head. “Just places where people live.”

“What about crosses? Not a fan?” Casey smiled at the absurdity of what was happening. Talking to a real vampire casually in her gothic manor.

“I’m pretty sure Jesus wasn’t a fan of crosses either,” Lavinia snorted. “But yes. Those work.”

“What about-” Casey yawned.

Lavinia cut her off. “How about this, Casey?” She stood from her chair. “I’ll answer more questions later. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

Hesitantly, Casey relented and stood.

“Thank you.” Lavinia smiled down at her with that warm smile from earlier. “I had a lovely morning with you.” She handed Casey the page of the sketch book that she had removed. “I’ll find a frame for this and we can hang it in your room.”

Casey took it and saw what Lavinia had been drawing all morning. It was Casey, lounging on the couch with her book wearing the robe. The Casey in the picture was looking toward the artist, in this case Lavinia, and smiling softly.

Wow. Casey wondered if that was how she saw her.

She looked up at Lavinia who smiled. “Thank you, Lavinia.” Casey felt her ears heat up.

“Of course.” She said softly. “You’re a good subject.” Lavinia nudged her slightly. “Now get some sleep. There’s a party in a few days. We’ll need to find you something nice to wear tomorrow.”

Casey nodded dutifully. “Good morning.” It sounded absurd but when they both went to sleep in the morning, it was applicable.

“Good morning, Casey.” Lavinia smiled before turning and gliding to the curtains on the big windows. Sunlight had begun creeping along the floor but it was on the side of the room where Casey had been seated.

Casey left Lavinia as she shut the thick drapes, plunging the room into artificial light.

When she got back to her room, she found a bundle on her bed with a note that read “For Casey. Thank you, I made this for you.” It was signed “L”. It was a beautiful green dress. It wasn’t especially extravagant and seemed suited for working in but it was undeniably beautiful.

Casey’s first thought was how much it reminded her of Lavinia’s eyes.