Chapter 5
Angelle had outdone herself. As Eric walked through their colonial home, he hardly recognized it. The wooden floors gleamed with polish, and the Palladian windows were spotless. Not that the house had been dirty before, but it was extra-clean now. She had scrubbed down the wainscoting, the white looking brighter than before, and as he walked through the great room, he saw that she had constructed a makeshift platform with a podium, and before it were fifty or so chairs. Where she had found so many chairs so quickly, he couldn’t even begin to imagine.
Eric took his time washing up and dressing for the meeting. Someone, Angelle, he assumed, had lain out a pair of black slacks and a white shirt for him on his bed. He could hear people arriving, chattering downstairs about the house, and curious murmurs about the sudden town meeting, and he knew he should hurry, but he just wasn’t ready to face anyone yet. Although he was certain that Megan was just a figment of his imagination, his imagination seemed so much better than his life at the moment.
When he finally emerged from his room, he felt as if he had been beaten and drained, and for a split-second, he thought about just turning around and staying in bed for the rest of the day. The image of Megan was fading more and more every second, now, just a foggy outline in his memory, and all he wanted to do was to grip onto it—onto to her—and never let it go.
As soon as he stepped into the hallway, a caracole of scents bombarded him. Blood. So many different kinds of blood. Sweet, sour, tangy, spicy. He had never been in such close quarters with so many beating hearts before, and it made his throat burn. A crimson haze spread over his eyes, and the now familiar throb in his gums pulsated as his fangs begged to be released.
Eric shut his eyes and held his breath. He was already certain that this little meeting was going to be a disaster and showing up with blazing eyes and sharpened teeth would not help matters. He stood in the hallway, stiff as marble, as he attempted to get himself together. It was a task that was easier said than done. He pushed Megan out of his mind completely, focusing solely on not bursting downstairs and feasting on the closest neck he could find. After a long moment, the throbbing in his gums dissipated to a soft ache, and when he opened his eyes, the red fog was gone.
Eric sucked in a few breaths, testing his control. The delicious scents hit him again, and his heartbeat picked up, but his eyesight stayed normal. When he was certain that he could handle walking into a room filled with mouthwatering, fresh blood, he started down the hallway, with slow, small steps. This time, it was Angelle’s voice that stopped him, holding him in place only a few paces from his room.
“You need to tell him, Mitch,” Angelle’s whispered voice floated around the corner of the hallway. “He needs to know what’s happening.”
“It may be just a dream, Angelle,” Mitchell said, trying to sound casual, but Eric heard the strain in his voice. His curiosity peaked. Most of the time, Mitchell seemed emotionless, always wearing a mask, but with his tight voice … Eric couldn’t help it. He stretched his hearing, needing to know what could possibly ruffle Mitchell’s cool and calm persona.
“It’s not,” Lola hissed. “I’m sure of it. You didn’t see Eric. You didn’t hear his heart or smell his desire. He’s found her.” Her hasty tone was almost vicious.
Found who? Eric’s heart stopped beating, and he strained his senses, anxious not to miss a beat of their conversation.
“I doubt that,” Mitchell said. “He’s only two weeks old.”
“It could happen, and if he’s not ready …” Angelle paused, and Eric could imagine the frown that marred her pretty little face. “He could make a mistake. She must be close, Mitch. If she wasn’t, the dreams wouldn’t have started yet.”
There was a pause, and then Mitchell let out a deep sigh. “He knows the story. If it was her, I’m sure he would have put the pieces together.”
Eric crept closer, desperately trying to keep quiet. What mistake? What do they know about the dream? What story? Could Megan be more than a dream? The questions burned through his mind, each one fighting over the other to be answered. And each one seemed ludicrous.
“Look, we don’t have time for this right now,” Mitchell said. “Everyone is waiting.”
Eric took another small step, hoping they would keep talking. A floorboard creaked under his foot. He sucked in a breath, holding it, and trying not to make a sound.
“Hello, Eric,” Mitchell called, his voice booming and tinted with annoyance.
The air rushed from Eric’s lungs in a noisy burst. Why did he have to try and get closer? He glanced over his shoulder at his bedroom door hanging wide open, debated for a second about locking himself in there, but then knowing that was pointless and wouldn’t hold against their strength, he let out a longing sigh, and ventured down the hallway.
“Sir,” Eric said tightly and gave a small, stiff nod as Mitchell came into view. He was just around the corner, leaning against the banister at the top of the staircase. Angelle and Lola were in front of him looking blameworthy, in Eric’s opinion.
Mitchell arched a brow, but he didn’t comment on Eric’s formal greeting. His eyes scanned over Eric intently. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“Sure, where’s Luke?” Eric asked. Angelle looked a bit jittery and nervous, and Eric shot her a questioning look, but she dropped her eyes and knotted her hands behind her back.
“He’s mingling downstairs,” Lola snapped, eyeing Mitchell with barely controlled rage.
Mitchell ignored her, giving Eric another hard look, and Eric was certain that Mitchell was assessing how much he had heard of the conversation. A pinprick of crimson began to spread over Mitchell’s eyes, and his nostrils flared as he, Eric assumed, tried to get a fix on his emotions.
Eric steeled himself, tamping down all the questions and accusations that he wanted to let pour out of him. There was something about the way Mitchell was looking at him that made him sure that overhearing probably wasn’t something he should admit to, at least not right now.
Mitchell must have bought his clueless act, because right then, his eyes faded back to blue, and he cracked a smile. “Let’s get this over with.”