Knight of Converse

Knight of Converse - Chapter eighteen

Knight of Converse

Chapter eighteen

"You're a Vampire. And you're in my room…" I said in a monotone. A Vampire, in my bedroom?  Was I still dreaming? It was impossible that I could be awake. Vampires just didn’t exist. They couldn’t exist. They couldn’t be real.

He grinned another wide smile, fangs looking deadly sharp in the dim lighting of my room. My night light shone in good humour, happily casting silhouettes across the walls, and filling the atmosphere with an eerie aura. "You are an observant little fille," he purred.

My panic then decided to kick in. "Are you going to eat me?" I squeaked out. I really didn't want to die. In fact, I was convinced that there couldn’t have been a significantly worse time to die. For goodness sakes, I wanted my death to go down dramatically, and in style. Having my body sucked dry of blood was not okay.

"Ma petite," he sighed dramatically in longing, "mais, don't tempt me." His gold eyes sparkled with mischief. "Unless you are offering then—"

"No!" I shouted.

He crept, seemingly hovering with speed towards me. I inhaled and held my breath. His eyes were so magical and hypnotically golden. There was no way that I could look away. His voice was soft, and low. "Your 'art it flies, sparking with your witch's blood. If you don't mind me 'aving a small taste..." Licking his lips, he extended fangs, and hissed at me.

"Please don't!" I screamed, feeling my heart drop down into my stomach. This was it. I was going to die.

And then his face fell into a mask of amusement. "It was a joke, don't 'yperventilate." 

I choked out a weird strangled sound, and slapped a hand across my mouth in repulsion. It felt as though all of the cruel pranks I had pulled on innocent people in the past came back to bite me in the ass. Every single one, amalgamated into a physical manifestation of vampire.

This was a disgustingly sick joke. It was safe to say my entire perspective on life completely shifted in about less than a second. “You…. You…”

My mind was like a tornado, failing to process whether or not this creature was a threat to me. With a racing heart, I willed myself to swallow my fear and think. How did he know I was a witch? How did he even exist? Those questions burned in my mind, along with the absolutely lame fact that algebra required less brain power than this. "Where did you come from?"

He tittered again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "My origination is what you desire but my purpose is really what you require." he sung in a crisp Received Pronunciation British accent. I blinked with confusion. Wasn't he just French a second ago?

“Were you putting on a French accent?”

“Was I?” he beamed.

I blinked hard. “What kind…. of vampire… are you?”

His golden eyes moved up and down, slowly inspecting me from head to toe. Feeling slightly underdressed, I folded my arms across my chest and scowled directly at him. He responded by shooting me a handsome smile, and then raised an eyebrow in question. “You should be more concerned as to why I have appeared in your bedroom, Sol Ambrosius.”

“First of all, how do you know my name? And secondly, forgive me for being more concerned about the fact that you’re supposed to be a mythical creature!” I exclaimed. My annoyance pushed through to the top pile of my emotions. I was absolutely sick of this back and forth jargon! “Alright, that’s it!” I roughly stood up. “What the hell are you doing in my room? Get out!” Magic tingled in my palms with the force of my words.