"And how do you even know what you are?" Alaric challenged, his tone edged with exasperation.
Lucius grumbled. "I just know, Alaric. How many times do we have to go through this?"
Alaric's gaze softened slightly, though his frustration lingered. "Maybe we're the only ones," he muttered.
"That can't be true. We would find them, I even remember my house," Lucius said, his voice quiet but determined. "I took Jean there."
Alaric's brow furrowed in surprise. "Did she find anything to help your memory?"
Lucius hesitated. "Not much. But we found a book. It unlocked with a hair lock, water, candle—a bit of witchcraft drama."
Alaric's expression darkened. "Whose hair?"
"A Divine Lady's," Lucius admitted in a whisper.
"When was this?" Alaric demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl.
Lucius sighed. "During the war. We needed answers, Alaric. You know that."
"You took my wife's hair!" He bellowed but trailed off to not draw attention.
Alaric's jaw tightened as he stood, tossing the book aside. "We can't keep dragging her into this. If there's a risk to Salviana, I'm telling her everything. She won't be manipulated or used—not by you, not by anyone."
"Not even by me," Alaric added.
"Now I feel a tad guilty," Lucius let out.
"You should be ridden with guilt you frustrating ghost!" Alaric retorted.
Lucius chuckled softly. "You're all fire, Alaric. Save it for when you can actually punch me."
"I look forward to it," Alaric snapped, though his lips twitched at the ghost's jest.
Their exchange ended abruptly as Alaric sniffed the air. His posture stiffened, and his eyes narrowed in alarm.
The faint but unmistakable scent of Salviana's blood reached him.
Without another word, he vanished from the garden, using his vampiric speed to return to the chambers.
Back in the parlor…
Alaric's hands moved to examine Salviana, his panic evident. "What happened?" he asked, his voice sharp with worry.
Salviana raised her hand, the small bead of blood on her fingertip glinting in the light. "It's nothing, Alaric. Just the needle—"
He cut her off by gently drawing her hand to his mouth, his lips brushing her finger as he licked the wound clean.
Jean's eyes widened in shock at the intimate gesture, her jaw dropping.
"Close your mouth, pumpkin," Lucius's voice whispered in her ear, making her flinch.
Jean glanced around, her expression tightening. "What are you doing here?" she hissed under her breath.
Lucius grinned, though only she could sense his amusement. "Just keeping an eye on things. You seem enthralled."
Jean glared at the empty air, but before she could respond, Salviana pulled her hand back from Alaric, her cheeks flushed.
"I'm fine," she insisted, though her tone was soft.
Alaric's gaze remained fixed on her, his protective instincts flaring. "You shouldn't let yourself get hurt, even if it's small. I won't allow it."
Jean, watching their exchange, felt a twinge of guilt. The truth she carried weighed heavy, but she knew she couldn't disrupt the fragile peace of this moment—not yet.
"We all need to talk," Alaric announced, his eyes briefly flicking to Jean. "Maybe your quarters?"
Salviana frowned. We all need to talk? she wondered, her curiosity piqued.
Jean's eyes widened. "Me?" she asked, incredulous.
Lucius cleared his throat in Alaric's mind. "It's secluded—no maids to eavesdrop. It gives the whole eerie vibe."
Jean scoffed inwardly. "Do you even listen to yourself? This place is ten times more haunting than mine can ever be."
"Come on, Fiery," Alaric urged, tugging gently at his wife to follow.
Salviana, still confused as she couldn't hear Lucius, hesitated. She set her embroidery down on the cushion chair and quickly joined them.
She didn't fully understand where they were going or why, but she followed anyway.
When they reached Jean's quarters, everyone took a seat. Jean didn't bother offering refreshments—she didn't have any yet.
"What is happening, Alaric?" Salviana finally asked, breaking the silence.
"I decided we should tell you everything," Alaric began.
'You're scaring her, Alaric. Come on,' Lucius chided in his mind.
"Shut up, Lucius!" Alaric snapped aloud before catching himself.
Salviana frowned. "Who are you talking to?"
"There's a ghost," Jean explained bluntly.
Salviana's eyes widened. Her thoughts raced. Could this be the presence that distracted Alaric sometimes when we were together?
"A ghost? Here? Now?" she asked warily.
"Yes," Jean replied. "A vampire ghost. He speaks through my mind."
Salviana turned to Alaric, her gaze sharp. "And you too?"
"Yes," Alaric admitted, looking uncomfortable.
Salviana looked around nervously.
'Tell her I was there when you wer born,' Lucius said to Alaric, his voice annoyingly smug.
"No, I won't tell her that, Lucius," Alaric retorted aloud, exasperated.
Salviana perked up, grabbing Alaric's arm. "I want to hear him too!"
'Oh, Princess Alaric, it doesn't work that way,' Lucius said in a mockingly sympathetic tone.
Salviana gasped. "Oh! Hi!" Her eyes lit up as she smiled. "He calls me Princess Alaric? I like the nickname."
Everyone froze except for their darting eyes.
"You can hear him?" Alaric asked, his voice tinged with shock.
'She can hear me?! How?' Lucius demanded.
"Why is everyone surprised?" Salviana asked, glaring at Alaric. "Were you still trying to keep secrets from me? There was a ghost all this time, and you didn't tell me?"
"Oh no, no," Alaric hurried to explain. "I was going to tell you everything today. No secrets, I promise."
Salviana nodded, her palm resting possessively on his thigh. "Okay, tell me everything," she said, her tone softening.
'He's a vampire,' Lucius chimed in.
"I know that," Salviana replied with a laugh.
Jean interjected, "There's a high chance he's also a demon."
Alaric turned sharply to Jean, his gaze darkening. Jean flinched slightly under his scrutiny, while Salviana appeared thoughtful.
'Stop scaring her,' Lucius warned Alaric, his tone cutting through the tension.
Alaric sighed and softened his approach. "Why do you think that?" he asked Jean.
Jean straightened in her seat, her confidence returning. "I'm an archaeologist," she stated proudly, drawing a smile from Salviana, who admired Jean's self-assurance.