Aidan

The other vampire scrutinized him. Aidan stayed silent. His instincts were telling him to leave, but his body didn't move.

"You seem lost."

Was it a question? Did Aidan have to answer? His mind was foggy with the bliss of blood, the adrenaline, the fear, and the curiosity.

The vampire narrowed his eyes and waved towards a couch. "Maybe you should sit down."

Aidan did, as in a dream. His eyes were caught by the sight of the canvas, now he was closer to it. The painting was not finished but the subtlety of it, the sense of detail and of color, the indescribable quality of feeling that irradiated from the portrait amazed him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to intrude," he managed to say.

"It's alright. It's not every day that I can share my passion for art with... well, with one of our kind. You're interested in the painting, am I right?"

"Yes, I paint too. Well, I try. It's nothing like you do. Your work is incredible."

"A fellow artist. Even better. I'm Enos."

"Aidan."

Aidan felt awkward in the silence, but he didn't know what to say.

"I should leave. I'm sorry. It was a pleasure to meet you."

Enos opened his mouth but he seemed to change his mind and closed it, without a word. He stood up and led Aidan through the corridors towards the main entrance. The house was sumptuous, almost over-decorated, but with great taste. At least, that was what Aidan thought.

He felt overwhelmed by the abundance of colors and materials. And the paintings. Some which seemed older were not paintings actually, but more murals, painted directly on the walls. Their sight made Aidan's heart beat faster.

"I hope you'll show me your work someday," said Enos, opening the door. "I'm glad I met you, Aidan."

Aidan nodded and left. He wandered in the streets without being conscious of his steps. And he was surprised when he found himself at home.

He leaned his back against the door and tilted his head up to rest on the wooden surface. He closed his eyes. This vampire was older than him. He had shown no aggressiveness towards Aidan. He had welcomed him politely, even if Aidan had disturbed the quietness of his home.

There was something in his voice, though. In his eyes maybe.

Some memories flashed in Aidan's mind. Stanislas' tone. A gesture.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of these thoughts.

When the daze of the blood fainted, Enos was still the only thing he could think about. Or it was more accurate to say that he thought about this particular shade of blue in the portrait. Aidan wondered relentlessly how he had obtained it.

On this same night, his steps lead him back to Enos' house. And this time, he knocked on the door.

A young vampire opened and seeing his unknown face put Aidan off. He hadn't expected anyone else than the painter. He almost turned away and left, when he heard Enos' voice, ordering to let him in.

He hesitated for a second and followed the young vampire to a large room where Enos was seated on an imposing armchair.

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon, Aidan," Enos said.

"The color. This blue on your painting. How did you do it?"

Enos smiled. "A fellow artist indeed. You have an eye, my friend. It's a very specific shade. I can show you if you want."

And Aidan smiled too.