Let me point out that at the very least, that fairy who was taken has been bled, because that was what the vamps needed, the blood. One of you was taken for a specific purpose. "You as a group weren't sucked into the vampire struggles. "No," I said, feeling I was walking uphill in this conversation. "Now we're sucked into the fucking vampire struggles, too." "It's not enough that we have to handle our own race's problems," Claude said. "What? How did you know?" Dermot recovered first. Let me guess, one of the fairies is missing." "Things were happening at the club," Claude said evasively. I didn't feel particularly ready for this conversation, but I was also anxious for some answers. "And then you didn't come home that night." I sat back in an old rocker from the attic. "We did promise you a talk," Dermot said. Today, we had Obnoxious Claude, as opposed to the more rarely seen Tolerable Claude. "Good, then this room will not look like a junk shop," Claude said in his charming way.
"Did you remember that today was the day the antiques dealers come? They should be here in an hour or two." I braced myself for the talk we had to have. Even to my own ears, I didn't sound too perky.
Plus, after I'd had my coffee and my shower, and emerged from my room in shorts and a green T-shirt, the two were waiting for me in the living room. Claude's shirt was tossed over the back of a kitchen chair, and Dermot's shoes were at the foot of the stairs.
I rose the next day feeling pretty grim in general, but I brightened when I saw that Claude and Dermot had returned to the house the night before.
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