Immortal Memory (Iris' Atlantis 1)

7: The Cups

Timothy

The human ability to adapt to change is truly remarkable. For, by Saturday morning I was absolutely accustomed to finding Plume wielding a huge wooden spoon over a kettle of porridge. Nothing weird about a vampire cooking.

"Morning," I greeted him as I entered the kitchen.

"Did you sleep well, uncle?" Plume asked. He didn't take his eyes off the kettle, but reached to open a cupboard for me. A glass came flying to my outstretched hand.

"Thanks," I said as I opened the faucet to get some fresh water. "And yes. I think I did. But I saw funny dreams, about an elven queen, in a very odd forest."

I gulped down the water. Plume had already poured tea into two cups. I took them to the table. Plume joined me presently with two small bowls of steaming porridge. At my small dismayed gesture, he sighed. And nudged the fruit tray to my direction.

"I'm not linked to anyone." I muttered as I reached for a banana. "And this is my house."

"It was your house. And I think the banana beats the jam as a choice for a sweet treat at breakfast. Especially considering nothing is aiding your body to keep itself healthy. No vampiric help the linked enjoy."

We looked at each other over the steaming plates. In the silence I heard the kitchen clock behind my back ticking on, one second at a time.

"You sound like a vampire," I told him. "I'm not your pet."

"You are my beloved uncle, a way deal more important than a mere pet. And I am a vampire." He looked thoughtful and balanced on the hindlegs of the chair. "And the weird thing is, you sound like a vampire often enough. I kind of tend to forget you aren't. You even feel like one."

I felt my hackle rising.

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

And I would never know. The doorbell made me jump while Plume's balance actually crashed and the man thudded to the tiled kitchen floor.

We were both then frozen on the spot.

"They are coming in," Plume announced after a few heartbeats. 

He was on his feet in a flash my human perception failed to follow.

I dashed after him, just to see Plume greeting my mother in the hall. She was flushed from the windy weather, her colored red hair matching the tone. And her eyes were on Plume, whose red eyes weren't covered by anything and whose pale smooth skin drew in the little light there was to be found in the dim hall. We hadn't expected anyone.

"What the hell are you?!" my mother exclaimed just as I reached them. She made the catholic sign of the cross.

"I could ask you exactly the same." I heard in Plume's voice thickly layered the smooth vampiric persuasion. The air around us felt almost sirupy with the manipulation intent he emanated. My own mental faculties were slowing down.

"Mother," I managed through the haze.

The cloud cleared almost instantly, shattered by my voice. Plume turned his head sharply away from my mother to cover his eyes and her gaze snapped to me. We were all more or less of height. Plume the shortest without his high heels.

"Oh. Little one." Her eyes focused. She smiled.

"I'll get my glasses," Plume said smoothly and took to the stairs.

"Who is that?" My mother asked me, frowning at Plume's turned back.

"A friend," I said. "Why are you here?"