Why Lorie? Part II

Chapter 27: The Osbornes

It was May first, 1911. Drogo was awakened by the pounding of hammers and the buzzing of saws. He was getting used to the noise, but it still startled him first thing in the morning. He groaned and looked at his pocket watch. It read 7:15 a.m.

"Getting an early start, I see," he mumbled as he sat up in bed, running his hands over his face.

As a rule, vampires did not need sleep, but it was nice to let oneself fall into a deep slumber once in a while. Drogo believed it helped him clear his mind and revive his senses — which had started to dull since he began adhering to a diet based exclusively on animal blood. After much soul searching, Drogo realized Nicolae had made a good point: in order to mingle, they both had to be extremely careful. Drogo had already been forced to move from Germany and Austria, because his rashness and impulsivity almost blew the Bartholys' cover. He did not intend to let that happen again in Mystery Spell. Unfortunately for him, that meant no longer relying on humans as meals. At first, he was repulsed by feeding on rabbits, raccoons, squirrels and the occasional deer... but at least they were better than the rats he had been forced to eat on the ship that brought him to the States. Drogo grimaced at the memory as he descended the stairs.

"Up already?" He greeted Nicolae who was sitting in the study, reading a novel.

"Never really went down to begin with," Nicolae replied, placing the opened book face down on his lap and gazing at Drogo with his steady steel-grey eyes.

"I don't know how you can do it! I mean, how do you manage to stay alert with no sleep and no human blood," Drogo asked as he plopped down in an armchair, across from his brother. He leaned back into it and crossed an ankle over his other knee.

"What can I say? I have special skills," Nicolae smirked. "And experience."

"I guess it helps that you're more than 100 years old," Drogo grinned. "You realize that if I hadn't changed, I'd still be only 31 years old?"

"Good for you," Nicolae resumed his reading.

"While you, Count Roman, would be a ripe 111!" Drogo exploded into laughter. "Man, I would love to see you look your real age."

"I think that particular wish of yours will never come true," Nicolae scoffed. "Pity."

"Come on! Cheer up! What's with the long face?" Drogo said.

"I have my reasons," Nicolae replied mysteriously.

"Yes? I'm all ears," Drogo leaned forward in the armchair. "Does your sour mood have anything to do with Miss Osborne?"

Nicolae sighed and closed the book. He sat in silence for a while, staring out the window at nothing in particular. He then said: "I think you were right about her family... There is definitely something going on with them."

"You mean... they are witches?" Drogo raised both eyebrows.

"I don't have any concrete proof," Nicolae replied. "But I went to the magic shop run by Sarah's sister a few days ago..."

"And?"

"She struck me as... different," Nicolae answered.

"Different how?" Drogo inquired. "Was she wearing a pointy hat? Did she have warts on her nose? Or perhaps her broomstick gave her away," he chuckled.

"Ha ha... you are so funny," Nicolae said mirthlessly. "Nothing like that... obviously. But when we shook hands, I got this very strange vibe from her. I tried to read her thoughts, but couldn't... that's never happened to me before around a human."

"That is a little weird, I guess," Drogo said. "So? What did you do then?"

"I introduced myself as Sarah's co-worker. When I told her my name, she stared at me like she had just seen a ghost. Which makes no sense... since we had never met before," Nicolae continued his story.