But why was he on the couch?
His mouth was dry. His throat itched. Burned, even, with a thirst that he wasn’t accustomed to. Every night he made sure to feed. Like any human being would eat breakfast or dinner, a religious meal, Cosimo made sure to sink his teeth into at least one person every night. It seemed devious, to think of it that way. Evil. But he never hurt them. He made sure not to hurt them. It took a few seconds for him to piece the puzzle together, and for his memory to snap back into place.
Yes, he had fed. But he had been seen. He had been seen by a girl dressed all in white, who had then requested to be turned. That was why he was on the couch, because she was in his room. Well, not is room, but someone else’s room. A spare room. Maybe it didn’t belong to anyone. A transient room. And he had not replaced the blood that he had lost, which was why he was thirsty. Was that the beginning of a headache? Surely not.
Cosimo sat up, and looked toward the door that led to the spare bedroom. The door was still mostly closed; had he not closed the door entirely? No, he hadn’t. He’d left the door open just a little. Like a parent leaving the door open for a child who might be afraid of the dark. Or who might need to find their way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Standing, he made his way toward that door now. Rather than barge in, he paced in front of it. There was a familiarity accorded to the girl within. Esmeralda. A connection that could not be denied. But the hours of sleep had taken away the surface sheen, and he was uncertain, now, how to act.
There were things that needed to be achieved. Maybe after those things had been taken care of, Esmeralda could meet Elizabeth. There was a plan. There was no need to be uncertain. All he had to do was wait for Esmeralda to wake up. So he paced, while he waited, continuing to go over that plan in his head as he did so.