The Last Chance (sequel to A Hundred Lifetimes)

Six

Dinner had always been a big thing in the mansion. Clarissa and Dorian would take turns preparing elaborate meals within the day, even going as far as to buy fresh ingredients early in the morning just to ensure the food's quality. So when Chiara and Dorian finally finished picking up the books from all over the library—for them to be sorted out and placed back into their proper homes later—they headed straight to the dining hall where they found the table already set up.

“Ah, Miss Chiara,” Clarissa said once she saw them take their seats. “I apologize, I forgot to ask you if there is any food you prefer. I do not know how your so-called shifting works, but am I correct to assume that your taste has also changed?”

“That’s actually right, but you don’t need to worry about me,” Chiara replied, looking hungrily at the lasagna casserole, salad, and garlic bread on the table. Homemade meals by Dorian and Clarissa was something that she never knew she needed until she began living in the mansion. “Even as a child, I’ve always been able to eat anything.”

“You as a child,” Mary scoffed, already grabbing a few pieces of bread with her hands before Clarissa could slap her hand away with the serving tongs. “That’s like, what, a century ago?”

“I’ve actually lost count. It was around the same time Dorian was a kid, too, though,” Chiara truthfully answered as she helped herself to a healthy serving of food. Shifting had always made her quite hungry afterwards, and all she had had since she woke up was some tea and biscuits.

“Ah, yes, you do come from the same period of time,” Clarissa thoughtfully said. “You knew each other way back when, correct?”

Dorian decided to answer this one with a smile. “We used to be friends. I would come visit her at her house every now and then,” he said, glancing at Chiara, who was nodding to confirm his story.

“You used to be friends?” Mary asked in disbelief while chewing. “I thought you were just slightly ‘acquainted’ or something.”

“She hated me with a passion,” Dorian said with a chuckle before he took a sip of water.

Chiara quickly swallowed her food so she could defensively shoot back, “You were messing with my free time!”

“But I eventually won her over with books and art,” Dorian told Mary proudly.

Mary’s eyebrows furrowed as she thought for a second while piercing a bunch of kale at the same time. “But you used to be engaged to that other lady whose painting was on your wall for the longest time, right?” she asked Dorian, then she turned and pointed her fork at Chiara. “The face you had when you were Shay?”

Dorian quickly looked down at his food and cleared his throat, rearranging the food on his plate to busy himself. “That was, uh, that was due to some misunderstandings,” he awkwardly muttered, while Chiara settled on finishing her drink just to cover the look of embarrassment on her face. “Quite a long story.”

“I do not think we should talk about these things over a meal, Mary,” Clarissa warningly told her. “They have a colorful past, so there is bound to be some…”

“Awkwardness, right,” Mary muttered. She kept silent for just a second before a corner of her lip turned up and she bluntly asked once again, “So now, you two are like, a thing, right?”

Chiara almost choked on her drink, making some of it drip down the corner of her mouth. Meanwhile, Dorian pulled on the neck of his clothes as if it was suddenly constricting.

“Mary,” Clarissa sternly called her out.

“What?” Mary asked with an amused look on her face. “Geez. I already saw them making out just this morning. Besides, Clarissa, you also saw how Mr. D was uncool-ly crying and sobbing when we brought Chiara back a few days ago.”

Chiara, who had been wiping her mouth and shirt with a napkin, looked up with raised eyebrows and a small smile. “Crying and sobbing?” she repeated, obviously trying not to laugh. Mary nodded to confirm.

Dorian placed his utensils on his plate, his face becoming paler by the second. “I-I, i-in my defense—” he stuttered out, until Mary cut him off.

“He wanted to turn you into a vampire until I noticed that you were actually breathing,” she told Chiara, earning her a glare from Dorian. Untroubled by it, Mary just smiled back at him widely while putting the pile of kale into her mouth. Without a comeback, he just settled on eating the food on his plate, clearly displeased.

“We mended your wounds, and then some time after, you began to change, Miss Chiara,” Clarissa supplied.

“It was so freaking weird. Like one day, you were the usual Shay,” Mary quickly chewed then swallowed, “the girl in the painting—and then your hair was brown and everything. I mean, I believed you when you told me about your abilities back then, but it was still so weird to see, you know?”

“I know,” Chiara scoffed. “Try being me and looking into the mirror one day to see that your entire body has changed into someone else. How many days was I out, anyway?”

“Around four days, Miss,” Clarissa answered, wiping the corners of her mouth courteously.

“Wow,” Chiara breathed out. “That is a long time. Usually, the shifting only lasts for twenty four hours, but I guess my body had to compensate for the wound.”

“Please, do not attempt anything like that ever again,” Clarissa told her pleadingly. “We already have two chaotic people in the house, Miss Chiara.”

Mary nodded at her grandmother. “She's right,” she said, carelessly wiping her mouth then placing the crumpled napkin on the table.

Dorian sat up—his plate now empty—finally finding it in himself to speak up about the matter. “I agree. We do not know the extent and the limitations of your limitations, so we cannot risk it. We cannot risk almost losing you again.”

With three concerned faces looking at her, Chiara couldn’t help but smile. She had really found a family in this unusual bunch, in their abnormally large yet warm home—something she hadn’t had in a very, very long time. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise,” she said, and she really did mean every word. Clarissa nodded and began collecting the empty dishes, while Dorian smiled and helped the old lady out.

“Yeah, next time, just let Mr. D take the bullet,” Mary said, pouring herself another glass. “He can survive a s**t ton of things.”

Clarissa shot her a look. “Mary, please watch your language,” she scolded.

It felt like the regular routine was back to normal the next day. Dorian was up early in the morning in his brightly colored hoodie and cap for his daily run and grocery shopping; Chiara was also up early doing some dusting around the halls; Clarissa was already starting on making breakfast; and Mary was in the garage, tuning her motorcycle up and waxing the cars. The sense of normalcy and feeling of calm in the mansion was refreshing and very much welcome, especially after all the hoops they had to jump through the past week.

Callahan seemed to be a problem that had long gone; the so-called Council seemed to be taken care of by Dorian; and the sudden appearance of the Order of women didn’t bother Chiara very much. They had been respectful enough to give her space, although she would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought about contacting them just to know more about the entire ordeal. Keeping vampires in line and saving a bunch of innocent lives didn’t sound like such a bad offer, but the only thing that had been stopping her was the fact that they wanted to get rid of Dorian. They had said it so easily despite not fully knowing who Dorian was, that she had to wonder if they had “gotten rid" of plenty other innocents before him.

“Morality is not black and white,” her grandmother used to say. “Some bad things need to happen for the greater good, and not all good things lead to something peaceful.” Chiara had always had conflicting opinions about that, and often she would wonder if she could ever do something inherently bad just for the sake of a good and greater outcome.

“Hey, I have a date later so I will be home late.” The sound of Mary's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Chiara realized that she had been dusting the same part of the table for five minutes.

“With whom?” she asked, putting the duster down.

“Some random cute guy,” Mary dismissively replied as she took out her phone and began to type. “Have you ever tried online dating, Chiara? I’m sure you’ve dated a bunch of boys already.”

“And girls. I’ve had a family before.”

Mary looked up from her phone with widened eyes. “No way. No freaking way,” she muttered.

“Yes freaking way,” Chiara chuckled, just as they heard the bell on the front gate ring.

“Oh, looks like the order ladies are back,” Mary said as they walked down the steps together. “Unless that’s my delivery. I ordered new equipment for the gym,” she added, wiggling her eyebrows at Chiara.

“I’ve never seen you more excited,” Chiara teased.

“Oh,” Mary stopped in her tracks as she remembered something. “If that’s the delivery, can you go get it? I’ll just grab my ID real quick.”

“Sure thing,” Chiara replied. As Mary ran back inside, she made her way past the fountain and towards the gate. The bell rang once more, making her say a, “Hold on,” as she picked up her pace. Without thinking, she opened the door widely and smiled.

“Oh, hi, are you here to deliver a package for Mary?” she asked kindly, only for her smile to drop as soon as she saw who were standing on the other side. There were three people, two men and one woman, and they did not look like package delivery staff. They all had black umbrellas over their heads, even though the sky was overcast, and they all wore clothes with long sleeves and covered their necks; but the main thing that rang the alarm bells in Chiara’s head was the fact that their skin were slightly paler than the usual person's, and their eyes seemed to glance at her neck hungrily.

“We're here for Dorian,” the man in front said with a courteous smile.