Nova's Diary

Chapter Two

8th(?) August. Brașov, ???- I awoke when it was dark outside, I'm not too sure if it was early morning or late evening, which caused me a bit of worry. I remembered very little from what happened earlier, my brain straining trying to remember at first, but steadily, it came back to me. I sat up, trying to gather my surroundings. I was no longer in the parlour, feeling the soft fabric under me, and the large window to my right, I realised that I was in the bedroom provided to me by my clients. My mind was much clearer than before, and I finally was able to muster up enough strength to stand up and stretch out my still wobbly legs. I finally made it to the door, after a slow and stumbling waltz that is. Opening the large bedroom door, I nearly jumped out of my skin, as a pale white face shone in the candle lit shadows of the hall. After a second of my eyes adjusting, I saw it was the very concerned looking face of Mr. Dexter. I let out a loud breath of relief, placing my hand over my chest. That sudden burst of fear made my body tremble for quite a while after that. I inquired about why he was standing before my door, which caused his cheeks to flush softly, likely in embarrassment and realisation of his awkward position.
"I was going to check on how you were doing, and if you happened to be awake, I was going to offer you dinner. I would be lying if I said I was not a bit nervous when I first saw you in the parlour, you were greyish and awfully clammy. I patched your hand and carried you up to your room. The reason of my worry is that you have not stirred for hours, I was  beginning to worry you'd bled out on me." His teasing was subtle, but somewhat entertaining. I thanked him for his concern, before stealing a glance at my wrist. Delicately bandaged, if Dexter had not taken claim I would have thought a trained nurse had wrapped it. I returned my gaze back to Dexter, somewhat that is. I admit that he was a handsome man, but he was reclusive, so I took this time to study my client closer, for professional reasons. First I examined his face. He had a longer face with a sharp jaw, his lips looked smooth and free of any dead skin. I felt as if I'd begin to sweat if I stared at them more. My eyes raced down to his hands, one of which holding the cane from before tightly. His hands were covered with black gloves, tight black gloves. His hands were larger, his fingers dancing along the crystal orb on top of the cane. My eyes continued to explore, leading down his chest and legs. He was a frail man, his thin and lanky body belying his deep, strong voice. My trail ended at his eyes, which, to my horror, were staring right at me, squinted slightly. I cleared my throat, deeply embarrassed by those few seconds.
"I'm thankful for your concern, but I assure you I am just fine. Although, I will be declining dinner tonight, I haven't much an appetite. May I have something to drink instead? I am parched." When I said I would not be eating, Dexter made an odd face, I could not tell if it was a face of disappointment or anger. He coughed into his fist, nodding slightly.
"Is wine acceptable? We have plenty of it, and other drinks are scarce here." I felt awful for rejecting dinner, so, despite my lack of hunger, I decided to retract my statement.
"You know, I just cannot drink wine without a fine meal. I've decided I shall eat dinner." Dexter seemed to perk up a bit after that, it was sweet, my inkling was he had prepared it himself, since he acted let down when I rejected. I smiled, deciding to add a little more to my statement.
"I will eat dinner, but, I request we chat as I do so. I would like to know more about you, perhaps leave this place knowing a friend instead of a client." His face went blank for a moment, like a buffering computer. He slowly nodded, before bowing. He said he would be back up with the dinner, and asked kindly that I stay put. As soon as he left me, I receded back into my room, sitting in a comfortable armchair that sat slightly to the right of a fancy looking coffee table. I took this down time to look at the room around me, as I've somehow just never gotten the chance. The decor was just as lovely as the rest of the house, a Victorian style room, with a black bed frame and satin red blankets. I was amazed how vintage this place was, and was almost sad that this man wanted to move to some place else. I soon heard a knock on the door, to which I walked over and answered. Dexter stood rigidly, his eyes looking down at me, from what I could tell, noticing the droplets of wine on the tray, he likely almost dropped something. I let out a soft chuckle, before opening the door wider. Dexter walked inside rather slowly, his slender legs taking much smaller strides than capable, his eyes focused on the tray. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he sat the tray on the coffee table, wiping his hands on his pants. He sat down on the couch in front of the coffee table, then motioned for me to join him. I happily did so, sitting back in the comfy chair. I glanced at the tray in front of me, the smell drawing my attention. However, the food before me was completely foreign, so in my most polite tone I asked what the dishes were. Dexter seemed rather pleased that I asked, his eyes lighting up when I quizzed about it.
"Well, these are dishes mostly, if not only made in Romania." He pointed to a bowl, which held an odd looking soup inside. It was a yellowish soup with green specks in it, and round objects just barely breaking the surface of the liquid.
"This is Ciorba de Perisoare, or, in English, Meatball soup. I have served it with bread and Sarmale, also called stuffed cabbage rolls. They are well known in Romania, and I figured introducing you to the food we make could make you enjoy your stay a bit more." He looked at me expectedly, his hands placed in his lap as he leaned forwards slightly. I realised he was waiting for me to try the food, to which I grabbed a spoon and the bowl of soup. I ate a bite, making sure to get some of the meatball with the soup, and to my delight, it tasted heavenly, I fail to even describe it, my hands cannot transcribe what my tongue and mind are feeling. I ended up eating the whole bowl, setting it down once finished and wiping my mouth with a napkin. Dexter held up a small plate holding a cabbage roll, and I immediately took it, taking a bite, meeting the same bliss from the soup. I finished the roll quickly, again patting my mouth clean. I reached for the glass, not realising Dexter was reaching as well. In a moment of pure cliché, our fingertips touched, causing us to recoil, our eyes meeting. I felt a laugh brewing, to which I pulled back and coughed, trying to conceal the laughter. It was ridiculous in the moment, but looking back on it now, it was sweet, and the first time in a long while I did not feel miserable with company. Dexter seemed a bit less enthused, His eyes narrowed and his lips pulled into a straight line. He held up the glass of wine, telling me that his grandfather had made it. I accepted it with a soft thank you, feeling a bit awkward now, some kind of tension had begun to spread. I decided to try to defuse the tension with some idle chatting, so, I asked him to tell me why he wanted to move from his home.
"It's a lovely home, why would you ever want to leave it? The furniture and land is absolutely stunning, I am shocked you'd want to leave all of that" Dexter seemed more preoccupied staring at me, from where I followed his eyes, he was staring at my hair. I raised my brow, coughing softly. He quickly began to answer, as if he had been paying attention closely the whole time.
"Ah, yes, the land or home is not the problem. I have no intention of leaving this place forever, I am simply purchasing a summer home for my brother and I to retire to from time to time, to try to get us used to different places. I found London very charming and interesting, so it was quite an easy choice." He then turned his head towards the window, a frown hinting at his lips.
"Miss Nova, I wish you did not have to part so soon. I have not yet gotten to know you, and you seem to be very interesting, to me anyway." He looked back to me, my eyes widening slightly. His eyes held something about them, something that I simply couldn't stop staring at. He stroked his goatee, leaning back. In thought.
"I wish to have a friend when I am in London, so I would like you to stay a bit longer. Please call your boss and tell her you will be back at the end of the month. I will pay extra for your needs." I couldn't believe my ears, nor my next actions. I swiftly stood, making my way over to my cellphone, calling my boss and telling her something along the lines of what Dexter had told me. My mind was hazy, and I felt like I was floating. Was it perhaps the aftermath of the blood loss? Or maybe from the sudden intake of a meal? I could not say, but I found myself back in my seat before I could even question it. I opened my mouth to speak, trying to think of what to say.
"So...Dexter...tell me about yourself." I decided to try to get rid of that awkward air by getting to know more about my client. Dexter gave me a surprised look, his eyebrow raising. He coughed into his fist, at this point I chalked this up to be some habit of his.
"Well, my name, as you know, is Dexter Lucard. My family is all from Romania, many were burned or staked, people in the past believed us to be with the devil." He purred out the last word, devil. It sent a quiver down my spine, then he continued.
"This is my family's mansion, my mother and father moved into the woods a few hours away, so they left my brother and I this beautiful estate. Along with getting to keep my childhood home, I was able to continue to employ my childhood servants, which would be Elizabeth and Constantine. To get trivial questions out of the way, my favourite animal is a dove, my favourite colour is red, I am 27, and my hopes and dreams are simply to live and find a suitable partner to do that with." The way he answered was stiff and rushed, I could tell he did not like talking about himself or his family, so I chose to no longer press him. Nodding a thank you for sharing, I offered to tell him about myself, to which he agreed.
"Well, my family lives in London mostly, a couple on my mother's side is in France. I am 24, I am from a family of hippies and couch hoppers. My favourite animal is a sloth, and my favourite colour is a soft reddish brown, and deep blues. My hopes and dreams were to become somewhat famous, but then I realised I am an adult. I'm contently a lawyer." My answers were not much more enthusiastic, and the air once again became awkward. I glanced back at Dexter, his eyes once again dragging me in. I glanced down at my glass of wine, having forgotten it was there. I took a sip. It tasted wonderful, had a bit of a bite, but had the flavours of berries and almonds mixed in. Taking a stealthy peek at Dexter, I noticed he had a furrowed brow, staring intensely at my hair. I nearly choked trying not to laugh. Thinking of it, if he was in this house all of his life almost, having something of a different ethnicity must be quite new to him. I sat down the wine glass, standing up and sitting next to him, brushing some of my hair over my shoulder.
"I noticed you staring. You can touch it if you'd like, I wont bite." I figured letting this small gesture of friendly trust may get rid of the tension that plagued us. Dexter's face flushed a deep red when he realised I'd caught him staring, and slowly, he took off his glove, revealing long, thin fingers, his nails sharp in a stiletto fashion. It caught me off guard, I did not expect his nails to be so manicured. I watched his hand travel up, softly resting on a curl. The way he touched it was akin to a curious child, and it was very cute. He stroked a few locks of hair, before pulling his hand back and slipping his glove back on.
"I have just not seen such curly hair before. It is very beautiful. Very soft as well, I like how long it is." I was flattered, as my hair is what I prided myself most on. I curled a few locks around my finger, closing my eyes and smiling.
"Why thank you Mr. Dexter. Coming from someone as refined and well mannered as you, that means a lot. Now, how about we discuss you summer home, him?" He nodded, his red cheeks not yet fading, maybe from the compliments I slipped him. I stood up and walked over to my bed, reaching under it and grabbing my briefcase, walking back over, this time sitting on the couch next to Dexter. We spent hours chatting idly, I told him about the home and London, to which he responded with such excitement. When I let out a yawn, Dexter arose from his seat.
"It has been a very long day for you Miss Nova. Since you will be staying a bit longer, I am sure we may take our time. Please sleep well, I do hope we may continue talking tomorrow." I waved him goodbye, and as soon as the door closed, I went to my phone to check the time and date. It was August 8th, and it was 2:57 am. I didn't even bother to get undressed, I simply plunged into my bed, hugging the pillow and drifting off rather quickly.