Allure Of The Night

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Eve followed Vincent inside the shop, carrying the bag and umbrella in her hand. The walls of the shop were dull green, and brightened with many lit candles that were enclosed in a fancy-looking glass case, where each glass case had three candles in it.

The shoe racks in there were made of oak wood, and the shoes were placed on it. Undoubtedly, the shoes were the finest she had come across until now. Forget about having them; she had never dared to dream of one that the elite women wore. It was because of the prices written next to each, some of them were more than what she would make in a year as a governess.

“Good evening, Mr. Moriarty. It is so good to see you here,” the owner of the shop stepped forward, who had red eyes, and his greasy black hair was combed to the side. “How can I help you?” The shop owner was eager to serve Vincent.

Vincent said, “We are looking for a pair of shoes for Ms. Barlow so that she can wear them for the ball. Preferably something flat,” he turned to Eve. “Unless she wants to look tall.”

For a moment, Eve’s heart skipped a beat because she hadn’t expected Vincent to take note of it. But then she had lost her balance many times before him.

The shoe owner came to where Eve stood and politely asked, “Miss, if you could remove your shoes so that I can see the size of your foot.”

Eve placed her things on a chair. Pulling the front of her dress, she used her one foot to remove the shoe from the other foot and vice versa. When she pushed her boots aside, she noticed the shop owner scrunch his face at the sight of her shoes.

“It seems like these are the miss’s favourite shoes,” remarked the show owner, who could not stop looking at the battered shoes.

Eve could tell that the person was trying to be polite only because she was here with Vincent.

Vincent turned around, letting one side of his body lean against one of the shoe racks, watching Eve and the shoe shop owner, Mr. Soler.

“It looks like it is twenty-three centimetres. Please take a seat while I go look at the shoes,” said Mr. Soler, and he then asked Vincent, “Mr. Moriarty, is there anything you would like to drink? The usual?”

“That would be splendid,” Vincent responded, and Mr. Soler looked very pleased.

“I shall get it right away, Sire! Please do make yourself comfortable,” saying that the man disappeared behind the curtain. The man returned with a glass of red liquid in it and offered it to Vincent before disappearing behind the curtain once again. One could hear the shuffling coming from there.

When she sensed Vincent’s gaze on her, she ignored it for a few seconds, but then she turned to meet his eyes.

“Do you come here often, Master Vincent?” She asked him.

“To Hollow Valley or this shop,” Vincent questioned, staring at her unblinkingly.

“This shop,” replied Eve. Her gaze shifted and looked at the curtain as she hadn’t been able to handle the intensity with which Vincent was looking at her.

“Sometimes, though I wouldn’t say it is often. How about you, Miss Barlow, when was the last time you went to buy your shoes?”

“Two years ago,” replied Eve, and she heard him hum in response. And though he didn’t question her more on it, she couldn’t help but explain to him, “They have been very comfortable, and it protects the feet from any water seeping into it. Not to mention, they are durable… you know what I mean?”

A smile cracked up on Vincent’s lips, “I know.”

She found his smile to be sarcastic and she pursed her lips before shifting her eyes to look at the rack of shoes in front of her. The thought of him having murdered the previous governess came to pass in her mind, and goosebumps appeared on her skin.

She heard his voice behind, “Everything alright, Ms. Barlow?”

“Apart from my wage being deducted, why wouldn’t I be?” Eve questioned back, and she heard him chuckle as if the devil was going to steal her soul.

“I am sure we can do some adjustments, depending on how well you behave during the time you attend to the ball,” stated Vincent, who started walking next to the shoe racks. He said, “Smart of you to buy a gown.”

Eve’s eyes had been trailing Vincent, and she noticed his spotless shoe. She asked him, “Does that mean I will be earning extra?”

“Mhm.”

Eve turned relieved because the last thing she needed was to spend all her wage on a shoe she wouldn’t wear much.

Eve subtly looked at Vincent’s side profile. His silvery hair held a softness against the light of the candles in the room. The smile was nonexistent on his lips. His cheekbones looked strong with a sharp jaw.

“Staring is rude, Ms. Barlow,” remarked Vincent, and Eve narrowed her eyes.

“I should tell the same to you, Master Vincent,” it wasn’t as if he wasn’t staring at her earlier.

Vincent placed the shoe he had picked and turned to face Eve, “And who was I staring at?” He tilted his head in question. Before Eve could say anything, he said, “If I remember it right, I have only been staring at the shoe rack, and this side looks quite new.”

Eve grit her teeth because that was possible as right now he stood on the opposite side of the rack he had earlier been standing. Not knowing how to retort, she changed the subject, “Did you capture any new creatures today apart from the one in my town?”

“So far, the towns are clear. But you never know which family or person goes missing,” Vincent responded. It seemed like the head guard in Meadow had only been following Vincent’s orders as he was the one to run the search through the town to find the siren.

Unable to resist herself, Eve asked him, “Isn’t it a hassle to have to distinguish between the people who go missing because of the outcasts and the people who go missing because they were killed not by outcasts or ordered to be killed…” on hearing Eve’s words, one corner of Vincent’s lips pulled up. At the same time, they heard something fall on the ground—Mr. Soler had dropped the shoe boxes from his hand.

The vampire looked slightly amused by Eve’s question and said, “Not necessarily. Being an expert in dealing with such things as you already know…” he paused to let Eve know that he knew that she had learned something about him. “It makes it easier. You know what they say. Do the job that you are good at.”

Eve softly gulped at his intimidating words.

Mr. Soler finally appeared from the room he had earlier disappeared, carrying three boxes in each hand. He placed the boxes on the ground and said,

“These are the finest shoes that arrived this morning. We have only one piece of each pair, making it unique for the customers,” he opened the boxes to display the shoes on the ground. “Which one would you like to try first, Miss?”

Eve looked at the shoes and pointed her hand at the pair of beige shoes, “That one.”

As Vincent was paying for it from her wage, maybe she could buy something decent, thought Eve.

Mr. Soler took the shoes out of the box and helped Eve wear it. But the fit wasn’t right, and she felt the back of the shoe bite her. “How about this, milady? These are good,” he pulled out a pair of blue shoes.

Vincent watched Eve try out the other shoes, and each time she tried a new pair of shoes, her face scrunched as if she was in pain. He turned to the shoe owner and questioned, “Mr. Soler, are your shoes made for humans?”

“Of course, Mr. Moriarty. I have humans and the night creatures customers coming in here to buy shoes,” answered Mr. Soler and stared at the human woman’s feet. “I don’t know why, but it seems like the miss isn’t fond of my shoes.”

And the more the two men stared at her feet, the more vulnerable Eve felt, feeling her legs would transform into a fishtail. She bowed her head at Mr. Soler and apologised, “It is unfortunate that as lovely as the shoes are, they don’t fit my feet.”

Vincent pushed himself from the rack where he had been leaning against, “Move,” he ordered Mr. Soler.

Mr. Soler turned worried, and as he got up and stepped aside. He said, “Let me see if there are other shoes that might fit the lady.” He didn’t want Vincent to be angry with him.

Vincent didn’t respond, instead he sat in front of Eve on his heel.

With ease, Vincent’s hand reached for Eve’s exposed ankle, where she had slightly pulled up her dress earlier. His cold fingers wrapped around her ankle before pulling it up so that he could inspect her foott, and Eve grasped the sides on her seat.

Eve’s eyes turned wide and she protested, “Mr. Moriart—”

“Quiet.”

His other hand shot up, and his slender fingers touched the sides of her foot. Blood started to rush up Eve’s face with every squeeze of Vincent’s fingers on her foot.

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