My Vampire Assistant - Chapter 87

A sharp trill from the intercom notified me that the gates unlocked. I was torn between mortification and peevishness and settled on just pushing the gates open just a sliver and squeezing myself in before Avarice had something more to say to me.

The tall wall around Avarice’s mini-mansion hid a small, but nice garden in it, trimmed and well-kept. I wasn’t surprised to see that most of the flowers in it were in different shades of blue. It was all tastefully and artfully made, and no doubt required a dedicated gardener to keep even and alive.

Only after my eyes moved past the contained greenery of the garden did I register a man who stood less than a dozen steps ahead of me, next to the house’s entrance. He wasn’t unnaturally (deathly) still like JJ would be sometimes (especially asleep), and he wasn’t camouflaged or anything. He just stood there, next to a flower bed, and felt so much like a part of a garden, of the earth it grew from, that I didn’t register him from a first glance.

But when I did, I recognised his face and felt some relief from it. He was the same square-shouldered, suit-clad, buff hunk of a bodyguard Avarice had with her when she had come to my shop that fateful day. I’ve seen him later, too, when she sent him for my month’s payment.

I wasn’t very surprised to see him there, but I gave him a smile. The guy was polite, if not talkative, and appeared to have some unspoken manly respect going between him and JJ. I suspected now that he wasn’t just a human, too, though I had about zero idea in which of all the categories of not-exactly-humans that I knew he fit. Not a vampire, that’s for sure. A shapeshifter, a witcher, or a spirit felt just as unlikely. A psychic, then? Well, that category was so broad that even if the man was a psychic, that told me literally nothing.

“Welcome, Diana. Mistress awaits you,” the man said, opening the door for me and gesturing for me to enter. When I did, he closed it behind me and moved into the lead.

The insides of the house were the same as the outside. The floor was polished wood, and the walls were draped in silk. I had a sudden feeling I wasn’t in a house, but returned to one of the many art galleries and museums I’ve visited in the past. Not just any of them, but one made in what one was someone’s palace. With Baroque decorations everywhere, paintings on the walls (all genuine antiquities, I knew even without looking closer), and this was just the entrance.

I couldn’t imagine someone actually living here.

“Please, change your street shoes before going further with guest slippers. You might also leave your rucksack here.” My escort’s voice brought me back to reality, and I realised that I halted. He gestured me at a dark oaken wardrobe. Its doors were open, and I saw with a bunch of empty hangers in it, and a shoe compartment with stacks of slippers in it.

“Sure,” I said and, unwilling to lean on these silk-draped walls, knelt to take my sandals off.

The bodyguard waited as I took a pair of fuzziest, most comfortable slippers I’ve ever seen wore and put them on instead. As I changed my footwear, I took a moment to discreetly close my eyes and feel the man’s aura.

After all the practice I had, the action only took me a moment, a single long blink. It was all about getting a glimpse and then closing my well to dissect it in my memory. I didn’t get details this way, of course, but that was usually the better.

I learnt that with auras, getting most information required a precise depth of focus, just like with shooting photos. Too close, and it will all be a blur of meaningless proto-particles. Too far, and I will only see the vaguest shapes. The best was somewhere in the middle, and I captured that middle and hold it in front of my mind’s eye as I put my sandals in the wardrobe’s shoe department.

The bodyguard’s aura was bright and strong and as supernatural as they got. It didn’t have a well, though, so he wasn’t a witcher. What he WAS, though, I couldn’t say. My only impression was… Earth.

The man’s aura was so much like that of the Earth that it was hard to distinguish without looking closer. I saw a lot of human there, yes, but also so much of Earth’s solidness, weight and vitality that I was wondering why the floor didn’t break under the guy’s legs.

I also wondered what was his name. I was very much due to find something to call him.

The man closed the wardrobe’s doors and gestured me to follow further.

“May I ask your name?” I asked as I fell in step with him. “It feels strange to not know by now.”

“Call me Alexey,” he replied, not pausing in his steps. The floor creaked softly under his feet, but held. Magic.

“Pleasure to meet you,” I said automatically, then smothered an urge to smack myself. “Not our first meeting, but still a pleasure.” And that attempt of fixing the blooper felt like something JJ would say, except his smile would be flirter. “Do you live here too, or only come when Avarice asks, Alexey?”

This wasn’t the question I really wanted to ask, but “What sort of magic creature are you and why floors don’t break and why do you look so human?” seemed kinda rude to just throw in.

Alexey threw me a glance with a spark of good humour in it. “I live here. My duties require me to be available to my Mistress at all times. The luxury is a nice bonus.”

He stopped next to an ornate wooden door and opened it in front of me. Avarice was inside.. I knew it because I saw her—and she saw me.