I led Raven into the candlelit dining room, dominated by a long uncovered oak table set with ceramic plates and silver utensils. I pulled out her chair, then sat a million miles away at the other end of the table. The five wildflowers stood in a crystal vase, blocking my view.

Jameson wheeled in a cart and presented us with a basket of steamy rolls. He returned with crystal bowls filled with a greenish soup. Jameson brought in the courses slowly. I thought we'd be here for months—which would be fine with me.

"It's Hungarian goulash," I stated as Raven nervously stirred the pasty soup. Jameson and I awaited her reaction.

"Yum!" She exclaimed, tasting the soup. She chugged down some water, and I chuckled.

"I hope it's not too spicy." I said.

"Spicy?" She gasped, eyes busting. "You've got to be joking!"

I motioned for Jameson to bring more water. It seemed like an eternity, but he returned with a pitcher.

I could tell she wanted to talk, but I was uncomfortable with conversation.

"What do you do all day?" She asked like a TV reporter.

"I wanted to know the same thing about you," I offered.

"I go to school. What do you do?" She inquired curiously.

It took me a second to respond, but I answered truthfully. "Sleep."

"You sleep? Really?" She asked skeptically.

"Is there something wrong with that?" I said, awkwardly brushing the hair from my eyes.

"Well, most people sleep at night." She stated.

Again, I answered truthfully. "I'm not most people."

"True…" She began, but I cut her off.

"And you're not either." I said, staring at her. "I could tell when I saw you on Halloween dressed as a tennis player. You seemed a little too old to trick-or-treat. And you had to be different to think that was a costume." I explained.

"How did you get my info?" She asked me.

"Jameson was supposed to return the tennis racquet to you but gave it to a blond soccer player who said he was your boyfriend. I might have bought the story if I hadn't seen you smack his hand and drive off without him." I wasn't actually sure they weren't together.

"Well, you're right, he's not my boyfriend. He's a totally lamoid jerk at school." She answered. I sighed with relief.

I continued, "But fortunately he also told Jameson your name and address to back up his story. That's how I knew how to find you. I didn't think I'd find you exploring the house again."

She blushed. "Well…I…"

Our laughter echoed through the Mansion.

"Where are your parents?" She asked.

"Romania." I responded.

"Romania? Isn't that where Dracula lived?" She inquired.

I blushed, mentally slapped myself, and said, "Yes."

Her eyes lit up. "Are you related to Dracula?" She asked.