The dead forest turned into lush nature and common houses. The dirt road turned into a stable one and cobblestones began to show. Couples and families strolled together and marvelled at the sight of the automobile whilst many were in carriages clopping by with horses. The buildings even began to get taller as we made our way in the capital city.
Mirasel. My old home.
Businesses and social life boomed here. The place I used to belong to. I regret staying in my room all the time. Now that I was stuck in a forest in a dusty cavern, I longed to be with everyone else. Geralt was kind enough to talk about nonchalant things, reflecting on his old works. It was a clever tactic to build trust and get me talking once we stopped.
A cafè was lit up against the grey backdrop of today's weather. It gave the feeling of warmth and a genuine smile reached my cheeks. Taking Geralt's buttery hand, I was taken into the quaint shop and by a window table.
"A black coffee." Geralt ordered expertly.
The waitress looked expectantly at me. "One for me too…please."
She headed to a dripping device to the back of the shop and motioned to a man who was handling it. Given we hadn't ordered food, Geralt may not be providing me the amount of time that I desperately needed.
"Now, to the topic of Miss Deidre. How did you come to know of her hand in marriage?"
Was he a reporter or a detective? His sudden interrogation caught me off guard.
"She was looking for him at the ball."
He purses his lips at the vagueness.
"He was the host, actually!" I squeak. "Yes, yes. I remember she had complimented him and said that she couldn't wait for him to make the formal proposal."
Oh, Karma was going to have fun with me…
He was at a loss for words. "S-she was going to marry into the Westons?"
I glance sideways. "…I guess?"
He was positively gleeful. "I cannot believe my luck."
"She, um, never explained the reasoning. If you could expand–"
"Miss Clair, the Weston's are a vampiric family who founded the mines. They sold parts of it to humans. Surely you know how important it is to be invited to an event at their estate?"
"O-of course! I mean, I simply just follow my husband. Being the man of the house, and all."
He latches onto this piece of information. "And who is Mr Clair? I must admit I was not expecting to run into your…home." Geralt finishes sourly. It really was run down.
The waitress comes back with two cups of bitter black water. I try my best not to gag when it reaches my lips and singes the inside of my throat like tar.
Geralt doesn't let the topic go.
"My husband is a bit of a recluse…his mother passed recently and he inherited the place. It was supposed to be promised farmland."
"I'm very sorry to hear that. Surely I would have known a place like that to exist…" Geralt explains to himself disappointedly.
This was going to get messy. Ryker's social group knew who I was. They hadn't agreed to his marriage with me, however, you couldn't question someone as vicious as he was. He was a young, two hundred year old vampire who had risen the ranks quickly. I'd never met anyone from his family and was still unsure if he had any. The fact that Deidre could point me out, did mean she was close to vampires…she'd also known about Weston's incoming bankruptcy. Maybe my lies were not so far off. Even Geralt was nowhere in earshot of the next new piece for Tulip Times.
"So surely Deidre is just off on her honeymoon?" I suggest.
"It doesn't explain the food poisoning." He rubs at his chin which barely had any hair growing from it.
"It could be a revolt against the growing marriage between vampires and humans. You may need to rethink your connections." I feed into him, taking control of the story.
"Now there is a thought. Undying Controversy: Growing Attraction Between Blood and Beauty."
He gulps down his coffee and the caffeine makes him seem more crazed.
"I apologise, Miss Clair, I must begin printing immediately." He drags his chair out and throws some coins onto the table.
"How am I supposed to get home–" I call out desperately, though the bell at the door has rung out to signal Geralt's exit.
An unattended woman in high society. What on earth was I going to do?
I survey the cafè but no one pays me any attention. The coffee in front of me goes cold by the time I muster up the confidence to sidle out of the place. A few mothers and men watch as I walk along the pathway. I was dressed nicely and obviously with an unnatural status. I was lucky that my wedding ring was still on from the other night and casted a zone around me, safe from any intruders. For now, anyway…
I managed to turn onto my old street after a little while. It was made up of townhouses with varying flower bushes. A number symbolised each of them with a name plaque to make them seem especially fancy, despite us all coming from a middle class. I come up to what used to be my home and open the rickety gate, my prior habits coming back to me as if I'd never left. I knock on the door thrice for good measure.
Instead of a blonde woman and a brown-eyed man, I'm greeted by an elegant lady with red coiled curls.
"Hello there, can I help you?" Her lipstick is just as bright as her hair.
A crease forms between my brows.
"I'm here for Mr and Mrs Sinclair?"
It's the lady's turn to be bemused.
"Well, you won't find them here." She says and goes to rudely close the door. I stop it with an outstretched arm
"But they were here a year ago. Did they sell this house to you?"
The lady is irritated by the obstruction.
"I obviously didn't steal it from them! It was labelled as a deceased estate three years ago. Go figure." With a grunt, she shuts the door in my face.
"Just some crazy girl, darling." I hear her sing from behind the door.
Deceased estate? My parents were only fifty and in good health! They were paid by Ryker for my hand in marriage. It must be a mistake.
The grey sky is darkening and I still need to find a ride back to the forest. If only they would hurry up and invent public transport as they had in my other life.
I start to walk back the way I came, in denial that my parents are dead.