One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie story

Chapter Forty-Three: Yet Another Thing to do

It's a short walk to the dining room. The castle is all modern inside, or I suspect we'd be eating at trestle tables and using our fingers instead of forks. The table's set already but there's no one in sight. I guess lots of money buys super-efficient slaves...I mean, servants...or whatever.

"Have a seat," Mikeal seats himself at the head of the table, where there is nothing in front of him except a tall goblet and a wine bottle. I'm 99% sure it doesn't have wine in it. We all follow suit, scraping chairs back and sitting. Andrew's got a similar goblet, filled, I assume, with blood. A large bowl of itty, bitty meat curls are in front of me and there's...nothing where Nacelles seats himself. I guess he's not eating.

"You didn't have to wait dinner on me."

I stare at the woman coming into the room. If a harp could speak, it would have her voice. It's like a waterfall of melted butter. I blink. What's wrong with me? Even at my most creative, I've never been a poet.

"This is my wife, Kalliope," Mikeal smiles, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

So that's what a siren can do. I'm pretty sure I don't like it.

"What's for dinner?" Stephen asks. He bounces in his chair and grins at his mom, as if he already knows the answer.

"Sushi," Kalliope replies. "As you well know."

I'm riveted by her voice. It's annoying, because what I really want to do is stare at her face. I was right about what I saw in the pool. Her face is covered entirely in tiny fish scales, which refract the light from the chandelier hanging above our heads like a diamond ring worn on a woman's left hand. Gah. There goes the poetry again.

Mikeal leans forward, resting his elbows on the eggshell colored tablecloth. "Andrew, tell me, why should you be the exception to the rule?"

Andrew takes a deep breath. "It's not my fault. There's no reason on earth why you should murder me. I'm not hurting anyone."

Mikeal nods. "That is true. But the bounty has always existed. Again, I ask you. What makes you so special?"

"Not a darn thing," Andrew says. "But doing something just because it's always been done isn't the right decision. Take slavery, for example."

"I owned slaves," Mikeal states. "I did set them free when I could, though."

"Because you knew it was wrong." Andrew sounds confident.

"Because my wife demanded it," Mikeal corrects. "But she is not speaking on your behalf tonight."

"I will owe you a favor," Nacelles says. "You know my power and know my favors don't come cheap."

The older vampire leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers together.

Kalliope walks around the table to where I'm sitting and takes the seat next to me. Great; I'll likely be reciting poetry in my head all night.

"You are an interesting creature," she says.

I laugh, because I'm kind of thinking the same thing about her. I want to ask her where she's from, but can't figure out how to without sounding rude. Or reciting a string of poetry a mile long. Either way, I think I've had enough of "foot –in-mouth" disease for tonight. My stomach growls and I close my eyes for an instant and breathe deep. It smells good.

"We do not stand on formality here," the siren says. She pours a dab of A1 onto her plate, next to two pork chops.

Huh. "I would've thought you'd eat fish."