I was stunned.

"You're a king?"

Constantino looked at me. With a huff, I sat down at the table and searched images of kings. Turning the laptop, I showed him a picture of a man with a crown, looking rather regal.

"Is this what you're trying to tell me?"

Slowly he nodded.

"Why did they try to kill you? Did someone want the throne?"

Offering nothing about the subject, Constantino lifted his foot and gestured to his shoe, telling me something in his language. Why was this more important than his past? I could not understand why he wouldn't want to return and make people pay for what has happened. It occurred to me that I was missing something important here.

I looked at the shoe that was misshapen at the tip then glanced at the other one that was still on the floor. The toenails had to be seriously strong because they'd broken through the leather.

"Oh, that's just wrong." I groaned. "I hope you're not expecting me to cut your toenails too. Ugh."

"Luuu-ceee."

"You are just nasty; cut your own damned nails."

His foot returned to the floor, and Constantino gave me an insistent look, gesturing to his feet again.

"I don't own a grinder or a chainsaw because seriously, that's what you're going to need."

Getting up from the table, I searched through my utility drawer and found a pair of nail clippers and a file. Putting them on the table, I pointed to him.

"You do it."

Constantino picked up the clippers and inspected them. I looked at his fingernails that appeared to have been snapped off. They had jagged edges but were still a little too long. He frowned as he held the clippers and they did nothing.

"You have to turn the bar over."

He dumped them on the table and flicked his hand in disgust, babbling something at me.

"Fine." I hissed. "But you're having a shower first. I am not touching toes that have not been cleaned in God only knows how long."

Pushing Constantino up the corridor, I opened the door to the bathroom and gestured to the shower.

"Do you know what that is?"

He said something and pointed to the bath.

"Okay, a bath it is."

I put the plug in and turned the water on. Finding Constantino a towel, I put it on the vanity and turned to see that he was still standing there.

"Stay put," I muttered, walking to the door. "I'll go and find something for you to put on."

My clothes were not overly feminine considering most of my life was spent in the outdoors at dig sites. Cargo shorts were the favoured items; I had an old pair that was destined for the trash. They were loose on me and probably an ideal fit for Constantino. Searching through my shirt drawer, I found something that was nice and loose. It was bright pink, but that didn't matter. He wasn't leaving the house so no one would see him in the odd ensemble.

When I walked back into the bathroom, I stopped, gasped and turned to face the door.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. "Why didn't you shut the door before you got naked?"

Constantino said something.

"I wish that I could understand you," I grumbled, putting the clothes onto the vanity. "Turn the water off."

"Luuu-ceee."

"Not in a million years. If you flood my bathroom, I'll boot your dumb ass out into the morning sun, do you hear me?"

Again, he said something. I shook my head and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I was quietly relieved to hear the water turn off.

Returning to the dining table, I looked over Nelson's notes. I wasn't knowledgeable about this, but I'd picked a lot of things up over the years. Nelson hired me to be the campsite co-ordinator, but often he'd have me helping his research assistant. He would always talk to me about what he was looking for, explaining things that I might not understand. Nelson was a pain in the ass, but he was inclusive of all. Just because some of us didn't have a piece of paper to say that we were smart didn't mean that we weren't and the professor made sure that everyone was a part of the dig.

I suppose that in a way, it was a wise idea. I'd filled in on a lot of roles when someone wasn't around or was sick. Still, none of this made any sense to me, and I wished it would. Maybe then I might be able to understand Constantino.

I don't know how long it had been, but I was concentrating intensely when I heard Constantino clear his throat. I looked up and grinned, barely restraining the giggle. His hair was drenched, and he looked ridiculous in the tight pink shirt and shorts that were mid-thigh length. At least they fitted better than the shirt.

"You should dry your hair."

He said something and awkwardly walked over to the table. Sitting down, he put his feet up on the chair next to me. With a flick of his hand, he muttered something. Probably, they're clean now, you drama queen.

"Okay," I sighed.

It was another thing to add to the list. Cutting a vampire's overgrown toenails.

I started with the smaller toes, working my way up to the monsters at the end. Little nicks made into the sides, slowly cutting across the nail. They were impossibly thick, and as I reached for the file, I wondered if a chainsaw and grinder would have been easier.

When I was done, Constantino looked impressed as he gazed at his feet. Then he moved to the seat and held out his hands.

"Jeez, you don't want much, do you?"

At least the nails were already short enough, all they needed was a little tidy up. When I was done, I cleaned up the mess and washed my hands, thoroughly. Dealing with Constantino was like having an overgrown child to tend to. Cut my nails, run my bath, feed me. The latter was yet to be done, but I knew it would happen. I could only hope that he wouldn't want to feed off me.

Keeping Constantino occupied was easy; all I had to do was find something for him to learn. A series of educational films for children was my go-to resource. It was simple and easy going which was ideal for him. Teaching him how to speak English was the primary goal; being able to read it would be beneficial too.

I was in the middle of looking at the images that Nelson had drawn, the ones that were on the side of the sarcophagus. Turning the page, I showed it to Constantino again.

"A little help would do wonders."

Taking the piece of paper, he put it down on the table and covered one end with his hand, leaving a few images showing.

"Con-stan-teen-o."

"That's your written name, Constantino?"

He nodded and returned to watching his video.

I had something. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

Spending a lot of time going through Nelson's notes, I realised that he had no idea what the markings said. I know that he'd asked for a translator, but usually, he had some form of thought when it came to markings. There had even been times where he'd managed to translate a few words himself. It wasn't his forte, but he knew how to do a few basic workings.

Gazing at the photos of the things that had been found in the tomb, I showed them to Constantino. He screwed up his face and flicked his hand dismissively, almost like the treasures were inconsequential.

"Aren't they real?"

He shook his head, and I wondered if the gold urn that looked like real gold was something else. If it was then what was it?

"What about these markings on the wall, what do they mean?"

Constantino looked at the images and pointed to his fangs as his eyes lifted to mine.

"Were they a warning that there was a vampire in the sarcophagus?"

The question was met with silence and a return to what he was doing. I know that most of the things that I asked or asking them were pointless, but I just wished that I'd get answers to them. It would help me understand how and why he was here.