The Vampire's Apprentice

Mrs. Turner remained quiet, watching the girl struggle with herself. As the hour almost ended, she asked quietly, "Miss Kitty, how do you feel about Mr. McCleary?"
 
She bit harder at her tongue than she had anticipated to, causing a wince at the question. "What?" Kitty asked, speaking for the first time since he had left.
 
There was no stubborn reluctance to answer this question; how wonderful it felt to finally stop fighting the desire to reply.
"I feel like... we don't understand each other." Kitty admitted finally. "And I feel like he doesn't want to see himself any other way than he already does, which leads to being rigid towards change, and that is why we don't understand each other. I'm always trying to fit his expectations and to do things I've learned he enjoys, but I can't keep pretending to be something I'm not. You can clearly see how well that went by the lovely hole I've dug myself into." She splayed her fingers in surrender, falling back against the couch. "The one I'll probably never get myself out of."
 
Mrs. Turner waited a moment then tried again. "Sometimes when you feel someone is rigid and appears to be refusing change, or even to acknowledge there is a different way of doing something or feeling, fear is involved. Do you think perhaps this is why you feel this rigidness with Mr. McCleary?"
 
Kitty bit at her tongue. Seeing all of this with that perspective, it made more sense. That didn't mean she want to stay any longer than she had to. Silently, she begged for the hour to be over.
 
"I'm sorry you had to be stuck with a stubborn case like me." She said. "It's not your fault. Don't let it discourage you."
 
Mrs. Turner smiled and stood. "Thank you, dear, that is kind of you to say. Allow me to see you out?" She walked to the door and opened it before holding out her hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Kitty."

Clancy waited near the opposite wall, his eyes on the nearest painting. He did not appear angry any longer, but there was a clear frosty edge about his manners.
 
Kitty went to stand beside Clancy, not speaking to him more out of safety than irritation. She wasn't the type to hold a grudge, but it wasn't hard for her to pick up the innuendo that he was better left alone for the moment.
 
Clancy studied the painting in silence as if memorizing it. "I do not think I appreciated art enough in my lifetime," he remarked. "This depiction, while confusing, is also rather calming." He turned and started toward the door. He still carried the cookies. "Come. We have another appointment."
 
She stuffed her hands into her jean pockets and trailed after him. Wherever they were going, as long as it was not this place, she could care less.
 
Clancy didn't talk as they rode the elevator down and walked out of the building. He was tense and unhappy, his own hands pushed into his pockets uncharacteristically to underline that point. He was not angry or unhappy with Kitty - alright, perhaps a little unhappy with her - but rather more unhappy with the situation in general. He walked swiftly, trying to walk away the thoughts that trailed after him like unwanted puppies.
 
Where were they going, anyways? Kitty tried to focus on that subject while avoid asking about it. And what good would it do to bring cookies to such a place? He wasn't wearing his hat, which, more than not, made her wonder if it was going to be some trouble they were getting into. But why would they have reason to do that? She couldn't find enough details to even pull a valid hypothesis together.
 
At last, Clancy slowed and shook himself out of reverie. He looked around and gave a nod before turning up a walk way. "Here we are," he announced, walking toward the town's one bookstore. It was a nice place, a chain store, and it looked very much closed right now, but he walked forward with every confidence of going inside.
 
The... bookstore? Why there? Her forehead knitted together in curious confusion, and she skipped a step to keep up with him. By this point, she was simply following where he led, totally lost in the grand scheme of things.
 
Clancy stopped and rapped on the big glass doors. There was a long pause, and then a small, unassuming fellow with a young man's body but an old man's face came to the door. He peered at them both through squinty eyes through the glass. Clancy stood and waited calmly until he finally unlocked the door and cracked it open.
"Password?" he demanded.
"We never discussed a password, Eric," Clancy replied.
The man grunted and stepped back, opening the door wider. "Good answer, good answer. A fake would have tried to bluff a password. Come in."
Clancy indicated for Kitty to follow behind him rather than enter first like he usually did. He walked in and seemed completely unsurprised when "Eric" suddenly grabbed his head and pulled him down so he could look at the top of his head.
 
This whole thing was strange. Kitty did not interfere, nor did she speak. Instead, she watched, taking in what details she could. The wonderful, musty smell of books was almost a distraction, forming the fantastical atmosphere she associated with fiction and magic. It tinted these events with a very surreal feeling.
 
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