Read Carpathian Vampire, When You've Never Known Love Page 25

CHAPTER 18 The Funeral

  The next morning, Alex woke late and with a headache. She roused her two friends, and they hurriedly dressed. Alex helped them choose their clothes.

  "Think avocaţi. Lawyers," she said. "Both părinţi."

  Jaklin pointed to a small tattoo on her shoulder.

  "Cover it," said Alex, but when Jaklin started to remove her eye shadow, she objected. "I do like the goth," she admitted. "Black for a funeral is a good thing. Let's try it on them."

  Mikhail said, "When they see us gothed out, they'll hate us and dis-own you."

  "Wrong," said Alex. "They are related to me. They'll love you."

  Since her grandmother's home was only minutes away by foot, they walked in the fresh cool morning air. Alex was quiet and kept to herself. She was mulling over what she'd done during the night. She'd sucked blood from another human being and had a slight hangover. Yet she was pleased that she'd easily satisfied her first vampire craving.

  Once they entered her grandmother's front yard, she put her arms around Jaklin and Mikhail and drew them to her as they walked up to the front door. She'd spotted her father's car, along with those of her brother and her sister's family. She thought her siblings weren't supposed to be there until the next day. She heard kids' voices coming from the backyard. She hoped they didn't trample the garden.

  As Alex opened the door and stepped into the entryway, Jaklin and Mikhail dropped back behind her. Her sister Sonya was the first to see her. "Here she is!" she shouted and ran to her, hugged her. "We were beside ourselves with worry," she said.

  "Where have you been?" It was her mother scolding from the kitchen. "Father Zosimos has been out looking for you. You were supposed to spend the night at the Monastery."

  "I've been with friends," answered Alex. She pulled them forward. "The two best friends in all the world."

  "You? With friends? That's not the Alexandra I know." It was a man's voice, not one she recognized at first. Then she saw him. He was her brother, Gavril. It'd been a while.

  "This is Jaklin and Mikhail," she said.

  What surprised Alex most was the way her family had taken over her grandmother's home. It seemed presumptuous. Yet, it would now belong to Alex's mother. For just a single day, it had almost seemed to belong to Alex, and she felt resentment at having it jerked from her grasp.

  The backdoor popped open, and in ran four screaming little girls. It'd been several months since Alex had seen them, and my how they'd grown.

  "Tanti Alex!" they screamed. They engulfed her in hugs.

  "Shush," said their mother and then turned to Alex. "They were so excited about coming to see you that they hardly understood their mare bunică had passed away."

  Alex had all but forgotten that the girls would be there, and now she resented the fact it was so good to see them, that her grief had been put on hold as she hugged these glorious little girl bodies, squeezed them until they squealed.

  Alex saw that her father and brother-in-law had commandeered Mikhail and were already questioning him about his family. Alex heard Mikhail say, "My family name is Volsky, and I'm from Saint Petersburg, on the Baltic Sea. I'm the disowned son of a Russian Orthodox priest, who was imprisoned in Siberia for five years by the Communists. My mamă is the minor poet, Sonya Volsky. I am a disciple of Dostoyevsky, having graduated this spring from the Russian Academy in Moscow."

  "I too am a great admirer of Dostoevsky," said Alex's father, "particularly his Notes from the Underground."

  "Ah, an excellent work!" said Mikhail. "The first existentialist novel."

  Meanwhile, her mother was pumping Jaklin for information on her background. "Where are you from in Bulgaria?" asked her mother, Madalina.

  "I'm a coastal girl from Balchik," she said, "but I've spent the last four years at New Bulgarian University in Sofia studying International Relations. I hope to work for the United Nations. My mamă is Greek from Thessaloniki, and my tată an engineer."

  "Do you work?" asked Madalina.

  "At Casino Sinaia."

  "You work at a gambling house?" Her voice was marked with disapproval.

  Alex stepped in, and she was angry. "It's not a casino, Mother. You know that. It's the International Conference Center. She works for the Bulgarian Consulate."

  Her mother changed the subject. "And your family name?"

  "Dafovska."

  The goth didn't seem to matter.

  Alex was proud that her friends were so accomplished. One impression startled her. And that was how much Jaklin and Mikhail reminded her of her two siblings. Nothing Freudian in that, she thought.

  Alex resented the fact that they already knew more about her friends than did she. Just as they had taken over her grandmother's home, so they now had monopolized her friends. But she consoled herself. They will never know how they feel in bed, she thought, what bliss it is to be cuddled up next to them, to be in their arms. What they taste like. How they groan in the midst of passion. They are mine, she said, stiffening her resolve. They are both mine.