Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 24: Won't You Invite Me In?

Void of any homey accents, the new apartment turned out to be as grey and utilitarian as I expected from something designed and constructed by vampires. In fact, it wasn't much different from the suite Keel had been hauled into post-stabbing, except it was considerably larger. Stepping inside, the grey walls pressed in on me like roiling storm clouds despite its size. I wanted to walk right back out and return to the warm wood and comfortable lived-in feel of Keel's old bedroom, but I forced myself close the door and venture further inside. The layout was nothing special: a conjoined kitchen and laundry branched off to the right of the entrance, and past those, deeper into the unit, the suite widened into an open concept space that, if this was a human dwelling, would have held a living room and dining area. This one didn't. Its contents were limited to a black leather couch with matching recliner, a wrought iron and wood coffee table, a couple of black bookshelves and an angular oak desk with a chair. The furniture took up a small fraction of the total available space, making me wonder what Nosferatu usually kept in their dwellings. A small hall led off to the left, and upon investigation I discovered two bedrooms and a bathroom. As elsewhere, the grey walls were off-set by black everything else: black shower curtains, black towels, black sheets and black duvet on the metal-framed bed in the first bedroom. The second bedroom was entirely empty. Severe and funereal in its monochrome bleakness, I suspected if a rainbow ever spontaneously burst into being in here, it would instantly be swallowed by the relentless gloom. Home sweet home... or something. Keel's old room felt positively welcoming in comparison.

Arthos dismissed himself soon after dropping me off with my meagre belongings. He'd be back later in the night to go over things, he told me, but first he needed to attend to some royal business. I nodded and locked the door behind him. Then I turned and faced the space, hands on my hips. For all its dour awfulness, this was a gift. I vowed I would treat it as such.

Arthos had placed the boxes side by side inside the door, and now I strode to them with purpose, picking up the one containing clothes and carrying it into the bedroom. I tipped it over onto the bed in a waterfall of mostly black fabric; yup, this stuff would right at home here. Sliding open the closet door, I found a number of metal hangers waiting, so I put away my clothes, which were mostly Keel's old ones, since mine had vanished along with my backpack upon my arrival.

Finished, I sat on the edge of the bed. It had a little bit of spring, but it was nowhere near as nice as Keel's. Thanks for the downgrade, I thought, then I checked myself. Really, Mills? I stood up, walked through the apartment and out the front door. I strode along the entire housing section, past all the other units, peering down the various connecting hallways, and saw no one. I could keep right on walking to the museum or wherever and while I'd eventually see some Nosferatu, none would stop me. Why are you complaining about a bed when you have freedom, you idiot? I asked myself, then turned and went back to my apartment.

Its starkness struck me just as hard the second time. I longed for some curtains to open, a window to look out or some natural light, even a TV to wile away the empty hours in front of, but the compound offered no such luxuries. I took my current journal to the couch and recorded the events of yesterday, then further explored the kitchen. The cupboards and refrigerator were as bare as the rest of the place, except for place settings and cutlery for four, two pots, two frying pans, one mixing bowl, and a set of four cooking knives. It all looked to be compound-issue. Whoever had occupied this space last had left no trace of himself.

Will my stay be equally invisible? I had already disappeared from the world above, might I be destined to disappear from this one too?

I shook off the thought as quick as it popped into my head. How many times had I made it into the vampire history books now? I would be remembered, for something anyway, even if it might be completely incorrect. I thought of all the people in the world who seemed so desperate to be famous, and how I never cared to be one of them. The idea of all those future people - supernatural or otherwise - looking back on me and trying to discern my motives made me tired. I reclined on the sofa, shut my eyes, and imagined colour. And then not just colour, but a carnival full of spectacle, and sound, and light, and music, and greasy junk food vendors, and excited, babbling children. The exact opposite of this place, this room. I let myself get lost in it.