on her that this must be the reason, so she threw the handkerchief to the floor and her image immediately disappeared from the mirror. Lia retrieved it and placed it back between her breasts. She felt a new sense of power, because this little discovery was going to make it so much easier for her to fit in. She would even be able to apply the same paint around her eyes as Elena had, now that she could use this human equipment. Lia walked over to the counter.
Dalia had seen what had taken place, and thought that she must have been mistaken in thinking the girl was a part of the vampire community.
“We assumed that you were...”
Lia smiled as she interrupted her.
“A vampire? yes I am, but it appears that I have discovered how to see my own reflection.”
Then Lia abruptly changed the subject she wanted to get down to business.
“I want to fit into your human world, you will help me yes?”
They both nodded and then, in a monotone voice, Abe Jackson spoke for the first time.
“We buy jewellery, furniture and paintings from your kind, we pay very large sums of money for these rare pieces. It is a very good business, and has been in my family for generations. Your kind come here often, they seem to have what we want at their disposal. We are the only business of this kind around these parts, I’m sure you know what I mean.”
Abe knew that the majority of his supernatural customers went back to their own time space and killed and robbed the rich, in order to obtain their exhibits. He, like his wife however, thought that this girl was different from the rest of ‘em. She had an air of good breeding and background. Lia nodded, she knew exactly what he meant.
“I will return” she said and she left the antique shop.
Lia arrived back home to find that nothing has changed. It felt like she had been gone for hours, but there was no sign of her parents or sister. It should have been dawn by now, but everything was still pitch black. Lia glanced at the grandfather clock, that was standing near the front door in the large hallway. The time was twelve o’clock, midnight. She wondered how that could be because her family left the house at ten minutes before midnight, and she had left ten minutes later than that. Lia hoped that she hadn’t missed a whole day, she would have some explaining to do if she had. But the house appeared to be exactly how she had left it, there was no evidence of mud on the floor from her father’s boots, no sign that they had been and gone again. Lia looked quizzically at the clock, that had been there for as far as she could remember, and suddenly began to consider that when she had gone through the portal, time may have stood still.
Delighted with the idea that she may have made yet another discovery, she mounted the spiral staircase until she arrived at another steeper set of steps, at the east wing of the house. At the top of these steps was the attic which, in all of the excitement she had forgotten that the door was always locked. She went back down the stairs to her parents’ bedroom, and found the key in a jewellery box, that her mother kept on her dressing table. Once in the attic she observed with satisfaction, that she had the sort of things that met the Jacksons’ requirements. She gathered her chosen items together and placed them in a large sack. She was on her way.
Abe and Dalia Jackson were very impressed with the contents of the sack. They bought everything, the jewellery, the vases, the oil paintings. They were particularly taken with the portrait of Lia’s late English grandmother Isobel Beauchamp. It had been painted by the portraitist, landscape and historical painter George Romney in the late seventeen hundreds. Arabella’s father had been a lot more amenable when his first wife had been alive, and had commissioned the well known artist to capture his beautiful wife on canvass. The Jacksons had gasped with
Dalia had seen what had taken place, and thought that she must have been mistaken in thinking the girl was a part of the vampire community.
“We assumed that you were...”
Lia smiled as she interrupted her.
“A vampire? yes I am, but it appears that I have discovered how to see my own reflection.”
Then Lia abruptly changed the subject she wanted to get down to business.
“I want to fit into your human world, you will help me yes?”
They both nodded and then, in a monotone voice, Abe Jackson spoke for the first time.
“We buy jewellery, furniture and paintings from your kind, we pay very large sums of money for these rare pieces. It is a very good business, and has been in my family for generations. Your kind come here often, they seem to have what we want at their disposal. We are the only business of this kind around these parts, I’m sure you know what I mean.”
Abe knew that the majority of his supernatural customers went back to their own time space and killed and robbed the rich, in order to obtain their exhibits. He, like his wife however, thought that this girl was different from the rest of ‘em. She had an air of good breeding and background. Lia nodded, she knew exactly what he meant.
“I will return” she said and she left the antique shop.
Lia arrived back home to find that nothing has changed. It felt like she had been gone for hours, but there was no sign of her parents or sister. It should have been dawn by now, but everything was still pitch black. Lia glanced at the grandfather clock, that was standing near the front door in the large hallway. The time was twelve o’clock, midnight. She wondered how that could be because her family left the house at ten minutes before midnight, and she had left ten minutes later than that. Lia hoped that she hadn’t missed a whole day, she would have some explaining to do if she had. But the house appeared to be exactly how she had left it, there was no evidence of mud on the floor from her father’s boots, no sign that they had been and gone again. Lia looked quizzically at the clock, that had been there for as far as she could remember, and suddenly began to consider that when she had gone through the portal, time may have stood still.
Delighted with the idea that she may have made yet another discovery, she mounted the spiral staircase until she arrived at another steeper set of steps, at the east wing of the house. At the top of these steps was the attic which, in all of the excitement she had forgotten that the door was always locked. She went back down the stairs to her parents’ bedroom, and found the key in a jewellery box, that her mother kept on her dressing table. Once in the attic she observed with satisfaction, that she had the sort of things that met the Jacksons’ requirements. She gathered her chosen items together and placed them in a large sack. She was on her way.
Abe and Dalia Jackson were very impressed with the contents of the sack. They bought everything, the jewellery, the vases, the oil paintings. They were particularly taken with the portrait of Lia’s late English grandmother Isobel Beauchamp. It had been painted by the portraitist, landscape and historical painter George Romney in the late seventeen hundreds. Arabella’s father had been a lot more amenable when his first wife had been alive, and had commissioned the well known artist to capture his beautiful wife on canvass. The Jacksons had gasped with
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