6 ~ Matt

Ari listened with interest and concern as I told him the story of Pete and the light bulb, and reassured me that he and the other members of the Circle (The Guardian Circle) were at my disposal if I needed any help.

It was more than Ben had done—listening without freaking out, without jumping to horrible conclusions of doom and gloom. Then again, Ari was like me—open-minded and willing to embrace the wonder in the world.

As we talked, I sneaked glances at the two little marks on the side of his neck. They looked like small scars, but I knew them for what they really were—the bite of his lover, a vampire who drank his blood, sinking his fangs deep in the throes of passion and—

Well, actually maybe not. I knew Ari was like my own sister—asexual. He and his vampire husband probably...snuggled or something, though.

However it happened, I'm sure it was tender and passionate. I could see it in the way they looked at each other—like they each carried the other's life in the beat of his heart.

I wanted that.

I thought I had it with Ben, but...

Well, it seemed like he either didn't remember I existed, or worried himself to death over nothing. He didn't leave any room for me.

Ari finally caught me staring and self-consciously covered the marks with his hand.

"Volkir's in town, by the way, back from Europe," he said, and leaned down to retrieve a tall, narrow gift bag he had under his seat. "He wanted me to give you this."

He passed over the bag and I peered inside. It contained a bottle of wine, and I recognized the label.

"Holy sh—" I stopped myself, mindful of the kids still playing with Ari's dog. A bottle like this didn't sell for under four figures. "I can't accept this," I said, trying to hand it back. "This is...too much."

"I know," Ari sighed. "You should see what he brought me. It's no use though. He won't take it back. He said you should drink it, too. He said to tell you, 'good wine isn't something to save for some distant, special day. It is something to enjoy every day—like life itself.'"

He rolled his eyes, having done a fairly good impression of his father-in-law's suave, slightly accented voice.

"Don't worry about it," he said, pushing the bag back into my hands. "You know Volkir gives what he wants to give and takes what he wants to take. It's easier to just go with it."

"Do you think he'd want to bite me?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

Ari frowned. "Are you worried? I can tell him to leave you alone if you want. I think he just likes you though."

"No, I'm not worried," I said, biting my lip. "Actually...I want to try it."

Ari blinked a few times, and I could see him replaying my words in his head as he struggled to puzzle out what I meant.

"You want Volkir to bite you?" he said slowly, as though stating an unsolvable paradox. "What about Ben?"

"Oh no," I shook my head quickly, "I don't think he'd be interested."

"No, I mean..." He squinted at me. "What does Ben think? You realize it's an...intimate kind of thing, right? I didn't know you and Ben had that kind of relationship."

"Of course we do!" I laughed. "We're married."

Ari leaned back and rubbed his brow. "I mean an open relationship, Matt."

"Oh. But Volkir could bite me without...you know. Couldn't he?"

"Are we talking about the same Volkir?" he asked. "The one that breathes seduction?"

"Yeah, but you trust him, right?"

"With my life, not with the sanctity of marriage," Ari answered, but he smiled, too. Unlike Ben, he didn't treat my curiosity like some kind of pathological condition.

He sighed and tugged at a loosely coiled lock of hair.

"Volkir might seem like a fun guy to you, Matt, but he's like...Dracula, or something. He's an ancient vampire, and he lives by his own code of right and wrong. He walks in our world, but he belongs to another, darker one, too. He likes you, and he'll give you what you want. Just be careful what you ask for, okay?"

I nodded, filing his words away in my mind. I took what he said seriously, and valued his advice. Which reminded me of something else I wanted to talk to him about.

"By the way, I ordered a new piece for the museum," I said, unable to hide my excitement. "Wanna come see it when it gets here?"

"Sure," Ari said cautiously. "What is it?"

"A dybbuk box! I got it for Ben, because his family's Jewish. Do you think he'll like it?"

Ari sighed again and rubbed at his temple. I wondered if he had a headache or something. Then he smiled. "I hope so, Matt. I really hope he does."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I opened the wine at dinner the following night.

I'd made Coq Au Vin, which I served with a freshly baked loaf of french bread and a green salad with feta, candied walnuts, and a balsamic vinaigrette.

When I brought out the bottle, Ben's father's grizzled brows lifted above the rim of his glasses, and he let out a low whistle.

"Domaine Leroy?" he said. "I didn't know you boys had that kind of budget."

Ben frowned at me. He didn't know much about wine, and I hadn't told him where I'd gotten it.

"It was a gift," I said now, taking a bite of chicken bathed in silky-rich, reduced wine sauce.

"You should've saved it for something special," Ben's father, Barry, said, studying the label with appreciation.

He was a mathematician, and believed in elegance, efficiency, and conserving things like money.

I'm not sure he completely approved of me.

"This is special," I countered, smiling. "We're celebrating life."

"Oh goodness, you boys aren't pregnant are you?" Ben's mother, Pamela, exclaimed, literally clutching at her pearls. "I'm too young to be a grandma."

"That's physically impossible, Pamela. Don't be ridiculous," Barry said gruffly, reminding me strongly of his son.

"You know what I mean," she answered, waving a dismissive hand and turning back towards me. "Are you?"

"No," I laughed, although that did sound like fun. Someday. "I only mean we should celebrate while we can, whenever we can. That's all."

"Oh my God, is one of you sick?" Pamela asked, now going visibly pale, revealing which side Ben got his worry genes from.

"No!" I laughed again. "We're both fine. Didn't Ben tell you what happened?"

They both looked confused, and Ben looked annoyed.

So he didn't tell them, I realized, and now I was stuck on a bus headed to Awkward Town. "I got a little shock the other day, changing a light-bulb," I said, shrugging. "That's all."

Ben relaxed. I didn't get it. I thought it made an exciting anecdote, but maybe his mom or dad had a fear of light bulbs I didn't know about.

"Oh my! But you're alright, aren't you dear?" Pamela asked, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.

"Of course," I nodded, smiling. "I'm fine."

"Well thank goodness for that! I don't think my Benji could survive without you!"

Barry made a noncommittal noise, and Ben frowned, though most likely that was aimed at his childhood nickname more than anything else.

Benji.

I snickered to myself, imagining calling him that later—at the worst possible moment, if I could manage it.

After dinner, I gave Pamela a tour of the museum, showing off all the new things we'd acquired since her last visit. Ari and the Circle had been busy, and a number of the most exciting items were too dangerous to have out on public display, but Pamela seemed happy to stick with what was in the front room.

"Shadow mirrors?" she asked, gazing at the dark, reflective glass with interest.

"Yes—sometimes you can glimpse spirits moving inside them," I answered, "out of the corner of your eye. And sometimes, your own reflection—your mirror self—will move on its own."

I gazed at mine, but as far as I could tell, it was just me.

Pamela shuddered.

"Are you cold?" I asked. "This floor's always the chilliest. Cold spots all over the place. Should we go back up to the others?"

"Y-Yes," she agreed, nodding. "I think we better."

We climbed the stairs (I made sure Pamela went ahead, in case anything tried to push her) and then returned to the main living space.

The second floor housed the kitchen and dining area at one end (the front of the house facing the street), the living area or lounge in the center, and Ben's office and a bathroom at the back.

The lounge was empty, so I figured Ben and his father must be in his office, probably talking about Business.

"Are you ready for some dessert?" I asked Pamela. "I made clafoutis—with fresh blackberries," I added.

"Oh, yes. That sounds lovely, Matt darling." She patted my arm distractedly and went to find a seat on the sofa.

I ventured towards Ben's office, intending to invite him and his father to sit as well, when Barry's voice made me stop at the door.

"—insane nonsense. If you couldn't manage to marry proper, I thought you'd at least managed to marry smart. You said he was successful, on his way to upper management, not a nut-job running a dog-biscuit shop like some sort of demented boy scout. I thought you had more sense than that."

I waited for Ben to say something—to stand up to his dad and set things right.

It would be 'demented girl scout,' for one thing. The boy scouts don't sell cookies.

I waited, and waited, and finally Ben spoke.

"Yeah, Dad," he said at last. "Yeah. So did I."

My heart constricted painfully—maybe that shock had done some damage after all—and turned away, not wanting to hear more.