"Is there... is there a candle in here?" She glanced around, unnerved by the unrelieved darkness. There were no windows in the room, no hint of light. "It's so dark."
She felt him turn away from her; a moment later, there was a soft whoosh as a fire sprang to life in the hearth. Soft golden light filled the room, creating dancing shadows on the walls and ceiling.
Rhianna stared at the flames as if they had risen from Satan's own pit. "How... how did you do that?"
"A bit of vampyre magic," he replied. Bevins insisted on keeping a supply of wood in the fireplace, though Rayven had often told him it was unnecessary. For once, he was glad the man hadn't listened to him.
"Oh." She stared into the fireplace for a moment, then frowned. "I had expected... That is... Aren't...
aren't vampyres supposed to sleep in coffins?"
"Some do."
"But you don't?"
"I find them narrow and confining." He could survive the day outside a coffin, but a thick layer of his native soil was spread beneath the mattress.
A muscle worked in his jaw as he sat up. The cloak fell away, pooling in his lap. "Have you any other questions about my... affliction?"
Rhianna sat up, her shoulder brushing against his. "Are there truly ways to... to kill a vampyre?"
"Plotting my destruction, are you?"
"Of course not."
"A hawthorne stake through the heart is said to be effective. I believe a stake made of ash or blackthorn will also suffice. Fire will certainly destroy me. Another sure method of destroying a vampyre is to cut off his head."
She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, sickened by the images his words conjured in her mind. "And what of holy water?"
"Holy water has a rather unpleasant effect, though I doubt it would be fatal unless I fell into a pool of it."
Rhianna frowned, searching her mind for other snippets of vampyre lore she had heard through the years. "And garlic?"
Rayven grinned. "The smell is most unpleasant, but will not deter me."
"And crosses?"
"A silver one would burn me should I touch it."
"And those made of wood?"
"They will not save you."
The words chilled her, but there was no menace in his voice, only mild amusement.
Rhianna frowned thoughtfully. "Why are you telling me how to destroy you?"
"Because someday you may need to know."
She didn't want to dwell on what that might mean. Casting about for some other topic of conversation, her gaze settled on his cloak. It spread over the bed like a shimmering pool of ebony. She stared at it warily for a moment, remembering how it had covered her the night before.
She poked at it tentatively, as if afraid it might attack her. As always, the rich velvet was warm to the touch, seeming to pulse with a life of its own.
"It won't bite you," Rayven remarked, one brow arched in wry amusement.
"Are you sure? It is the strangest garment I have ever seen. This afternoon..." She broke off with a shrug. "Never mind."
"What?" he urged. "Tell me."
"I know it's impossible!" Rhianna exclaimed. "But I'd swear it moved. Oh, I know I must have been imagining it, but it seemed to cover me of its own volition."
She shook her head, her eyes wide with awe and disbelief. "And the panel in the wall, it closed all by itself."
She looked at him, waiting for him to explain that which was unexplainable. "How is it possible? Am I going mad?"
Rayven caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "You're quite sane, my sweet. I caused the panel in the wall to close, just as I caused it to open when I sensed you were on the other side."
"You did? But, how?"
"Like this," he said, and a moment later, the portal slid open and then closed again, leaving no trace of its existence.
Rhianna blinked up at him, astonishment evident in her eyes. "Would you mind leaving it open?"
"As you wish," he said agreeably, and the narrow door opened once again. "Is that better?"
"Yes, thank you." She glanced at him, at the door, and back at him again. "Did you manipulate the cloak, as well?"
"No."
"No?" She cast a wary glance at the puddle of black velvet in his lap.
With a sigh, Rayven stroked the smooth velvet. "I don't know how to explain my cloak. Indeed, I don't know if it can be explained. I fashioned it myself, though I cannot recall how it was done, nor where