Part 1925 – Will Ambrose Get Any Sleep Before His Wedding? Who Knows?

Sarah got dressed and admired her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

She wasn’t filthy looking before.

Not exactly.

But now she felt as clean as she looked and it was wonderful to feel that clean.

Sarah ran her hands through her wet hair. It felt so good. No knots. No tangles. No dirt. No smell of ashes and smoke. So clean. So sleek.

So sublime.

It was going to look amazing when it was all dried.

Sarah tugged on some wet strands. They were so clean they squeaked.

Why wait for her hair to dry on its own?

She vigorously shook her head. The individual strands rippled into flames. Her scalp heated up. The water on her hair evaporated into steam.

She stopped her head-shaking and the flames flickered out.

Sarah scrubbed the steam off the mirror. She smiled a big, happy smile at her well-dried hair. It was still a dirty-blonde color, but it was a clean dirty-blonde and that made all the difference in the world.

She left the bathroom and nearly tripped over Barbara who was sitting on the floor, talking on the phone.

Sarah frowned and tapped the top of Barbara’s head.

“Oh, hold on a minute.” Barbara looked up at her. “Sorry. I’m on the phone with Ambrose.”

The young girl’s expression brightened. She pointed at the phone, made a quick reading a book gesture, and pointed at herself. She tilted her head for extra emphasis.

“Uh…” Barbara frowned. “Are you asking me if he’s going to read to you again?”

Sarah nodded.

Barbara returned to her call. “Sorry. Sarah was asking me if you’re going to read to her again.”

She tapped Barbara’s head again.


She pointed at the phone and stabbed a firm point at the floor.

“I don’t understand.”

Sarah eye-rolled.

“What? I don’t understand. I can’t help it.”

She pointed at the phone again and held the point.


She nodded.

“Okay. Ambrose. You want to know if Ambrose—-”

She repeatedly pointed at the floor.

Perhaps there was a better, clearer way to get her message across, but she didn’t feel like elaborating.

“You want to know if Ambrose…”

Another emphatic point.



“You want to know if Ambrose here…If Ambrose. Oh. You want to know if Ambrose…will come here? Can come here? Umm. No. I don’t think so.”

Sarah scowled and stormed off to Barbara’s room.


“What was that all about?” Ambrose asked.

“Translation difficulties. Oh, and Sarah really wants you to come here.”

Ambrose stretched out and sighed. “I could, you know.”

“Uhhh, no. Not really. It’s a bad idea.”

“I feel like I should be offended by that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it. Love you.”

“I love you too, kitten. Sorry, I gotta let you go. I need to go explain things to Sarah.”

“mmm. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” She ended the call.

Ambrose stuck his phone underneath his pillow. He adjusted himself into a more comfortable position. “Now, to go back to sleep.” He face-planted into the pillow.

“mmm.” His body relaxed.

He closed his eyes.

‘sellta. ‘SELLTA! 


Ambrose growled and punched his pillow. He sat up. “What the heck?” He bleared irritably at Robin.

Robin’s body curled in his sleep. His fists were up against his chest. His knees tried their best to meet up with his fists. “No…no…’sellta.”

Ambrose sighed. “One of these days I’ll get a full day’s sleep.” He shuffled back to the younger vampire. “Hey.” He poked his back. “Hey!”

Robin cried in his sleep.

“It’s all right.” Ambrose laid down and curved his body along Robin’s back. “Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

Without any warning, a memory surfaced…

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