The Last Corvus (completed)

Ch. 33 Isadora

Chapter 33

Isadora

"Well, as I hear it, it was most interesting. Bernhardt tells me that Hank woke up not long ago, and you did indeed break his nose, Isadora. I'm glad my corset came in handy. A kidney is a terrible thing to waste," Janet smiles sympathetically as she repairs the knife nick in the light grey material. Her fingers are so nimble, so quick, that I'm kind of jealous of her ability.

Mom had the knack for sewing, making all of my clothes until she died; but unfortunately, I never inherited her talent.

She bites the thread and holds it up for me. I fit it on and she tightens the laces up the back. I can do it myself, she just likes helping. She told me this morning that she used to help her younger sister dress, so I let her help, only imagining how homesick she can get occasionally. Even though I'm older than her in human years, she's a century plus older in vampire years. It's kind of nice imagining I have an older sister; just like Winna was like my second mom.

Man, I miss her so much. I miss all of them. I wish I could see them soon...... that could work. "Janet, you said this morning that I was welcome to stay. Is that offer still open, now that I've maimed one of your men?" It's weird talking to someone with your back to them, so I turn around once she finishes the bow.

She giggles. "Oh course, Lovely. Darling Dimca would love you on his team; and don't fret, Hank could be moved to another squad if you chose. The only problem you face is your lovely hair. You see, it's so long that, in a tussle, someone could grab it. I could shear it if you'd like, I do have a steady hand."

Well, as much as I hate it, it does make sense. I hate having my hair pulled, and someone could grab it and slit my throat. I nod with resolve, allowing her her fun, and sit on the bed as she walks out of the room.

When she returns, she sets a small pitcher of water and a mirror on one of her trunks. She zips around the room with a gleeful glint in her eyes, hands me a towel and procures her sewing scissors from the sewing basket. Towel around my neck, I settle onto a cushion in front of the trunk, face the mirror, and wait for the inevitable first snip.

She finishes, looking self-satisfied in her reflection. Grabbing the pitcher, she dips her hands and then turns back to my hair, now super-SUPER-short. What is she doing?

She wets it to a point at the nape of my neck, probably making my head look like an upside-down tear drop. Running her fingers from the bottom up she fluffs it, creating little spikes. Looking at the mirror, I look like a demented angel. Normally the cut would be far too boyish for my taste, but with my heart-shaped face it only makes me look like a spiky valentine pixie. It's longer in the front than the back and if my hair wasn't wet, the long bits would probably reach my earlobe.

I squeal, completely surprised by the outcome, and launch myself at Janet. She hugs me back for a moment before exclaiming in pain. "Isadora, darling, you don't have to squeeze so hard. I get your point and I'm glad you like it," I let go and she looks at it from the front. "It suits you well, truly. I saw it in a magazine and simply had to try it. I'd never try it on myself, of course, my hair is the last thing I have from home, everything was lost with the ship."

Looking at myself sideways in the mirror, I giggle at how my spiky hair juxtaposes against my borrowed old-fashioned clothes.

Thinking back to the topic before my hair, "may I go get my stuff? Give me a chance to say goodbye to my neighbors." Namely Winna and Linden, but I haven't told Janet or Demetrius about any of my life before them, even though Janet's told me most of her life as a vampire. It's pretty much been the same thing, this, for years.

Demetrius passes by the doorway and stops to smile at us, complimenting my hair. Studying Janet's reaction to his smile, her continued smiling after he walks away, I realize something. "You like Demetrius, don't you?"

She looks at me, her smile faltering, "as a friend? Of course," I give her an incredulous look and she blushes, "I've felt for him ever since before I bit him. That's one of the reasons why I bit him, besides being lonely. But I can never tell him."

"And why not? This is the TWENTY-FIRST century, after all; old rules don't apply anymore. Anyway, I better get going, my stuff won't move itself."

After declining an offer to have one of the off-duty teams help carry (it's not that I don't trust them, it's just that for some reason I don't want them knowing where a colony of vampires is. Is colony the right word? Gaggle, flock, mob, nest, murder, hive? Murder seems most appropriate, given the subject. I don't want them knowing where a murder of vampires is.) I set off back to the Complex.