The Last Corvus (completed)

Ch. 7 Isadora

Chapter 7

Isadora

It's been nearly four hours since my little super-strength incident and we've finally finished packing. Sometimes it's good not having so much stuff. I opted to do my bedroom by myself, even though it has the most stuff in it, not wanting the guys to have a chance to see my underwear (which was strewn across the room with the rest of my clothes, thanks to that vampire).

Rob and I are standing in the living room, staring at the stack of boxes on the floor. "How are we going to move all of this?" I ask as I watch him trying to figure out how to fit the couch through the door.

Not answering my question Rob says, "you know, I'm right about you two, even if you're in denial. Every time you pass each other you sorta freeze and get this look in your eye. Oh, and haven't you noticed how you're dressed identically?" He crosses his arms and gives me a very self-righteous look.

I hate it when he gives me the whole I-know-everything-and-I'm-never-wrong routine. Trying to make a snappy comeback all I can come up with is, "that's purely coincidence. Plus, you know I always wear this when I'm stressed and the whole moving thing is very stressful."

He doesn't look convinced and I'm not sure I even managed to convince myself. Luckily he doesn't know where I'm actually moving to.

"You know," he says, "I always thought I was the stark realist and you the hopeless romantic; but after this..."

I give a small chuckle (still trying to hide my fangs) and he smiles warmly back. "That's funny. I always pictured you as the hopeless romantic and me as the stark realist. I mean, I'm not the one that always cries at the end of every sappy chick flick!" I look pointedly at him with a smile and he almost seems to blush.

He considers this a moment and then finally replies, "you know, I guess you're right. I've always been somewhat of a romantic; at least it's better than being a humorless ice queen."

I look at him, feigning indignation, and give his shoulder a light punch. At least, I think it's a light punch until he gasps in surprise and looks down at my fist. I have got to be more careful. The fact that he showed pain at all is an indication of how much that must have hurt.

Rolling his shoulder, he looks down at the pile of boxes and back at me. "BTW, why are you moving? Where are you moving to? Is it still nearby; still in the city? Will you still be able to come to my games? What about the house?"

He bombards me with so many questions, I don't know which one to answer first. I hate to lie to him, even if it is for his own good. "I got fired from Bob's about a week ago. I was offered a job at the zoo as, uh, a tour guide and am moving to cut down on commute. I don't have my new address on me, but I'll call when I do."

He gives a dejected nod and Linden enters, effortlessly carrying three boxes to the door. "Hey, Robert, would you open the door? We should start loading the car; it's starting to get dark."

"What car?" Rob holds the door open and then follows closely behind Lin onto the sidewalk. Lin turns left, goes about twenty feet down the street, and stops in front of an old sports car.

Rob stares at him in disbelief as Lin opens the trunk with a slightly metallic pop. "I know you're old baby, it's okay."

"How old is it?" He jumps, swearing quietly when he hits his head on the trunk hood. "Sorry," I think sheepishly.

"It's okay. I'm still not entirely used to having someone else in my head. And she isn't an "it", she's a she. She's been my baby for over forty years. I got her fresh off the assembly line in 1974. She's mainly been in storage ever since, so she's still practically brand new."

"That's nice, but don't tell Rob that. You're only supposed to be 18, remember? You're not old enough to have bought it in 1974. Tell him you got it from your dad, eBay, won it off someone during poker. Lie. Does "she" happen to have a name, by the way?" I figured I'd ask, knowing guys and their cars.

"Yes. She's named after my mother's favorite flower; Peony. And I don't care for lying. Always been dreadful at it. But I'll try."

"That's all I ask." Balancing on the doorjamb, I gesture down to where Rob's still standing on the bottom step, gazing longingly at "Peony." "I think someone's in love with her."

"She is a looker, isn't she?" Closing the hood, he strokes it affectionately.

""She" is a car, Linden."

"Well don't tell her that, she happens to be very sensitive."

After descending to the next to bottom step, I lean over and whisper in Rob's ear, "you know, what would Britt think if she saw you gazing so longingly at another girl? Is that what you were looking out the window at a while ago?"

He turns to me, ears reddening from where he's trying to not blush. "I doubt Britt would mind anything because it's a car. And for the whole 'looking-at-out-the-window' thing, I wasn't looking at anything."

Aww, he's so cute when he's in denial.

Giving him my best reproachful look, I say, "no, Peony happens to be a she. She also happens to be going through a slight identity crisis, and I doubt she would appreciate your doubt in the matter. She happens to be very sensitive." Looking over at Linden, I see him give the roof a gentle pat and me an approving nod. Meanwhile, Rob's giving me a very disturbed look that he then exchanges between Linden and the car.

He should be used to my weirdness by now, what with us knowing each other for a full eight years (plus the occasional holiday visit to my aunt's before that).

But I digress.

It's not that I actually believe Lin about the whole car thing; it's just kind of sad that apparently his only 'female' friend happens to be a car. Sure, being a vampire would put a damper on a relationship, but there has to be some female vamps in New York. Right? Of course I am, I knocked one out earlier.

Actually, now that I think of it, I don't remember seeing any girls in the Complex last night (or anyone but Dr. Jones, for that matter). Maybe he really is alone.

A pang of something akin to a mix of melancholy an jealousy washes through me, taking me off guard by the sudden emotion. What's wrong with me? Why do I care if he has a girlfriend or not? I try to convince myself that he means absolutely nothing to me... and fail miserably.

I mean, sure he's cute with his long curly black hair (I've always had a thing for that kind of hair). And his muscles, lean yet clearly defined, running down the length of his arms from beneath his tee sleeves.

In the short time I've known him I can already tell he's smart, has a strange sense of humor to rival my own, and cares about people (I mean, he didn't kill me, right? He wants to help others).

No! Why am I thinking about this? I. Don't. Like. Him. He's a vampire! No! Eww! I keep telling myself I don't like him but some stubborn part of me isn't willing to believe me.

Trying to distract myself from my mind's most recent onslaught of insanity, I help the guys carry boxes to the car.