Allure Of The Night

Music Recommendation: Eloise & Theo-Kris Bowers

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The carriage passed through the path inside the forest, the hooves of the four horses steadily clip-clopping on the moist ground. The sun hid behind the clouds, while the tall and thick trees had left a shadow on the forest ground.

Inside the carriage, Allie stuck her face and hands on one side of the window, staring outside with lively eyes. Eve looked outside the other window, but her attention was on the man who sat in front of her. She subtly moved her eyes away from the window and looked at Vincent from the corner of her eyes. Right now, he looked outside the window next to Allie with an unruffled and relaxed expression on his face.

With the way he had left her house last night and how he ignored her this morning, Eve was sure he wouldn’t talk to her.

His earlier remark had taken her by surprise, and she didn’t reply to him out of spite. His silver hair gently moved with the wind that entered the carriage, and she noticed a hint of darkness beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t slept. But then vampires were used to lack of sleep… was it the blood?

Allie turned away from the window and asked Vincent, “Why are we going to Darthmore with Ms. Barlow?” The young vampiress shifted her gaze from her brother to look at Eve in question.

Eve wasn’t sure if she should tell the actual reason to Allie.

“Lady Camille’s body is being buried in the local cemetery along with some others,” Vincent responded to his curious sister.

“Your governess wants to be present when the woman is being buried as she was her friend’s aunt.”

Eve took Vincent’s words as a hint to keep Allie away from her side of life, which seemed to be the right thing to do. There was no need to involve a child or anyone as it didn’t concern them.

But at the same time, his words brought a frown to her face, and she wanted to ask him but held herself back from conversing with him. Things were peaceful since they hadn’t exchanged a word in the carriage.

“Not in Skellington?” Allie asked the question that was on Eve’s mind.

“Apparently, it is what her family wants and has decided on it. Where would you like to be buried?” Vincent questioned his sister and Eve blinked at him, wondering if this was a question he should be asking a small girl like Allie.

But Allie was used to Vincent’s company enough to enjoy it. A deep, thoughtful frown appeared on Allie’s face and she replied, “In the forest! Around the blooming flowers and grass and little rabbits.”

“Sure, turning into a compost for the rabbits doesn’t sound too bad,” Vincent hummed with a straight face while Allie beamed. Allie then turned to her governess as if she had the same question.

“I haven’t thought about it, Miss Allie. Maybe in the backyard of the house where I live?” Eve answered with uncertainness, and it felt like she always had the oddest conversation whenever she travelled in this particular carriage.

“To have a grave in a piece of land that will be occupied by someone else in future, hamster. How pitiful, it seems like you want to be dragged out and have your body dumped somewhere else,” Vincent remarked.

“No forest?” Allie asked, believing she should think of a better place, but Eve knew his words were meant for her.

Eve responded to his words, “I think it is an excellent place, Miss Allie. If it gives you peace and happiness, you should stick to it. Sometimes people don’t understand what attachment means.”

Vincent rolled his eyes, “Not if the attachment comes in stupid choices, hamster. Imagine the people you are living with die and you die too without any children, the place will obviously go to someone else. And to this person, you will be nothing but a waste that needs to be cleared out of there. It is what happens mostly.”

Eve gritted her teeth and responded, “One shouldn’t be pessimistic about what others can and cannot do. Just because you choose not to doesn’t mean others will.”

Right now, they stared at each other. Vincent’s eyes slightly narrowed and he said to her,

“A cemetery is a better place than picking a place that has no guarantee of when you will be replaced. It would be different if you found someone worthwhile and had children.”

Eve softly sighed and said, “It is good to know that you are so self aware about yourself, Mr. Moriarty.”

A crooked smile appeared on Vincent’s lips, “That I am, Ms. Barlow. I have never tried to hide my intentions with you or the kind of person I am.”

“Maybe you should have,” Eve whispered with a slight glare before looking away from him.

“…”

Amid the adults in the carriage going back and forth to discuss her place of burial, Allie blinked as if lost, as she didn’t know what they were talking about anymore. Catching sight of a stag outside, she went back to glueing herself to the window.

Eve clenched her jaw. Why did he infuriate her, always getting under her skin and making her want to stab him?

“Do you hate me now?” Vincent asked her as if he wanted her to, and Eve’s eyes returned to look at him. “I wouldn’t mind if you did… Ms. Barlow,” they had both drawn lines on each side, as if not wanting to cross it.

“No,” Eve replied. Her feelings were far from hate toward Vincent. She said, “Hate is a strong word, Mr. Moriarty. And I am not so petty as to overlook the help you have provided me. I am still grateful for it.” The look of craziness in his eyes softened.

Vincent watched Eve keep her eyes on him for a second before it lowered and looked outside the window.

When silence fell in the carriage again, Eve pursed her lips for some time. Contemplating if she should ask or stay quiet for the rest of the journey. But she decided to ask him,

“Why isn’t Lady Camille’s body being buried in Skellington town’s cemetery?”

“Marquee Hooke isn’t pleased by the news about his sister’s affair with a married man. You know how social status works. Not to mention, Mr. Walsh is younger to her,” Vincent said, and his words had Eve frown.

“They are vampires. Age shouldn’t matter.”

“You would be surprised that not many are as open minded with their thoughts as one would think. There are still a few of them, who stick to the old ways. The vampire families that come from an old bloodline, don’t like mixing and sullying their names,” Vincent explained.

Eve found it odd that a family member refused to bury their own blood in a respected place and would sever ties that easily. In truth, Lady Camille never had an affair and had died in her hands.

Noticing Eve thinking about what he said, Vincent commented, “There’s no need to feel sorry about what happened and how it happened.” If not for Eve, the vampiress would have died after a few hours. The only irksome part was that the woman had died before he could get a hold of her.

When the carriage arrived at the Council, Mr. Briggs pulled the horses’ reins and stopped the vehicle. Getting down from the driver’s seat, he opened the carriage door and informed,

“Master Vincent, the ground is filled with water all around because of last night’s rain.”

Vincent was the first one to step down from the carriage and didn’t seem bothered with his shoes turning muddy on its front and sides. He turned to Allie, who stared at the sloshy-muddy ground.

“Mother will be angry,” Allie whispered in worry. Her mother was particular about these things, keeping her clothes and shoes tidy.

“Now your shoes won’t get dirty,” Vincent said after picking his little sister in his arms from the carriage. Taking the opportunity of being close, the small vampiress circled her arms around his neck and hugged him. “You better keep in mind that this is a one-time thing.”

Allie nodded. But realising her kind governess was yet to step out of the carriage, she looked at the muddy ground and then at Eve. The little girl whispered,

“Brother Vincent, Ms. Barlow’s dress is going to get dirty.”

Vincent remarked, “Your governess isn’t in the mood to be carried.”

“Why not?” came the small voice from the little vampiress.

Eve gave a look to Vincent, who met her eyes with an incomprehensible expression there. She turned to the small vampiress and assured her, “That’s fine, Allie. I have never minded the mud much. I will get it cleaned after I get back home.”

She stepped out of the carriage and put her feet on the small stool Mr. Briggs had placed in front of the door. Standing on it reminded her of when Vincent had deliberately kicked it to make her fall, and he had caught her. Now that she looked at it, the memory appeared to be bittersweet.

Once Eve stepped foot on the ground, the hem of her dress was quick to soak with mud. She started to walk next to Vincent, leaving the carriage behind, while forgetting the flower in the vehicle she had brought for her mother’s grave.

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