I give him a funny look. “Why the third degree? You were there, weren’t you? Watching me?”
“Just because I was watching you doesn’t mean I experienced anything. I want to hear about it from you.”
He looks serious, watching me expectantly.
I shrug. “Okay.”
So I tell him about some of the other bars in the Bay Area. Parties in Berkeley. School events. Then I start going backward into high school, prompted by his constant questions, covering everything from prom to what I normally did on a Saturday night, to horseback riding lessons when I was younger in Livermore, to road trips my parents and I would take to Tahoe to our cabin, every winter and summer.
By the time I’m done talking, both our drinks are gone and he’s staring at me with a faraway dreamy look in his eyes, elbow on the table, the side of his face in his hand.
“What? Did you drift off?” I ask him, struck dumb once again by how gorgeous he is. There’s deadly Solon, and then there’s this soft version of him that’s just as mesmerising.
“I did drift off,” he says slowly. “It’s just that I saw it all.”
“Because you were watching me?”
He shakes his head, awe in his voice. “Because I saw it through your eyes. Felt it, smelled it. I experienced your memories, what it was like to be you.”
I gulp, a fluttery feeling in my stomach. I know he’s had my blood, but I didn’t think that would happen. The last thing I want is for him to feel as I do.
“You were so much like me,” he goes on quietly, reaching for my hand. “You were surrounded by people, but everyone was at a distance because they didn’t understand you. Because they knew, deep down, you were different, not like them. It scared them. And you felt…so alone. A loneliness I know too well.”
He squeezes my hand then brings it to his lips, kissing my palm in a soft, gentle manner, eyes never leaving mine.
Good lord, what is he doing to me? I am tumbling down, down, down, further into my feelings for him, growing too intense to bear.
“I’m going to get us the drinks,” he says. “You stay here.”
I nod, still a bit dazed by my emotions, the ever-expanding heart in my chest. I watch as he walks off to the bar, his ass looking incredible in those jeans, the rest of him a perfect V of broad strong shoulders, tapering to trim hips. To think he’s mine…well, at least to know that I’m his.
He gets in line and glances at me over his shoulder and I give him a shy smile, feeling like I really am on my first date and a little over my head.
Then I get this strange smell of cologne and beer in my nose, something really familiar but I can’t quite place it because it smells like so many people in here.
I turn my head and see Matt standing just a few feet away, staring at me in concern.
I stare back him, the sight of him doing something to my brain, like two worlds colliding that I never thought would collide.
I don’t know if I should say something to him or not, but he just frowns at me, looking mildly horrified and confused, and I can’t tell if it’s the way I look now or maybe him not seeing me since Elle went missing or…
I glance down at my arms. At all my missing tattoos.
Oh, fuck. I totally fucking forgot.
He gives me another odd, harried look, and then leaves.
I get up and go after him, going to Solon first at the bar.
“I see an old friend,” I tell Solon, my voice low. “I’ll be right back, don’t come after me, it will only make things worse.”
“Lenore,” he growls, but it’s too late and I’m already leaving, heading out the door just in time to see Matt at the top of the stairs.
“Matt!” I call out to him and he keeps going.
In a flash I’m by his side, grabbing his arm, pulling him off into the darkened garden at the back of the church.
“What the fuck Lenore?” Matt cries out, and I realize I’m too strong for my own good. “What is wrong with you?”
Though we’re in the far corner of the garden, I feel a presence at my back, smell Solon’s scent. He’s keeping his distance, disappearing into the shadows I’m sure, but he’s here and he’s watching me.
“You didn’t say hello,” I say to him, trying to sound breezy and not desperately trying to prove that I’m normal. “I saw you in the bar.”
“I know,” he says, looking me up and down. “I didn’t even recognize you. What the fuck happened to your tattoos? Why are you so pale? You trying to change your appearance or something?”
I blink at him. “No? Why?”
“Of all people, I thought I’d see you on the news, out there looking for Elle,” he says bitterly. “A post on your Facebook, something. But it’s like you don’t even care that she’s gone.”
I shake my head, feeling panic flood through me. “I don’t have anything to do with Elle’s disappearance. I didn’t kill her.”
He stares at me for a moment. “I never said anything about her being killed…”
Fuck.
“Well that’s what you’re implying,” I say hurriedly. “That’s what everyone is thinking. That she’s dead.”
He looks down at my arms and legs, though I know he can’t see as well in the shadows like I can. “All your tattoos are gone,” he says in a whisper. “All of them.”
I swallow uneasily, my heart starting to race, my adrenaline picking up.
Something awful and dark is starting to spread inside my gut.
“I got tired of them,” I lie. “They were easy to remove. I wanted a fresh start.”
“A fresh start for what?”
“I don’t know, I thought maybe I wouldn’t be taken seriously as a museum curator,” I say, lying through my teeth, starting to panic. That darkness is spreading up me now, turning into a form of hunger.
The thing is, I’m not the only here with adrenaline running high. His is too and I can smell it, smell his fear, smell it coming out of his pores, smell it in his blood. The scent is flipping a switch on inside me, a thirst that wasn’t there before.
Oh no.
I should go.
I really, really should.
“You’re full of shit,” he sneers at me. “You know Beth told me you were a total bitch to her last time you saw her.”
My mouth drops open in shock. “Excuse me?” I cry out. “Beth told you that? She came up to me, understandably angry because you told her that I kissed you when it was you that kissed me!”
He shakes his head, looking away. “However you choose to remember it, that’s not how it happened.”
I blink with wide eyes, anger rushing through my veins. I shove him hard and he falls onto the ground. “You kissed me,” I hiss at him, stepping over him. “Don’t twist the facts because your sorry little tech bro ego can’t handle the rejection.”
“What the fuck, you bitch,” Matt spits out, scrambling to his feet. “I can’t believe I ever went out with you, you’re fucking weird and fucking crazy.”
None of this is computing. Matt, who was always so nice and easy-going and chill, doesn’t seem to be any of those things anymore. Now I’m starting to realize it was some sort of act, the nice guy persona a dude will put up in order to win someone over, often lamenting that “nice guys finish last” when things don’t go their way.
“And you’re a manipulative asshole,” I growl at him, the anger now lashing through me in a way I can’t control, swiftly turning to insatiable hunger. As lust and blood intertwine, I’m discovering it’s the same for blood and rage.
“Lenore,” I hear Solon’s voice warn from the background.
But he’s too late.
I lunge at Matt, grabbing his head with my hand and yanking it to the side, sinking my teeth right into his neck.
He tries to yelp but I already have my hand at his mouth, smothering his cries, the noise buried by the music thumping out from the club. His blood flows freely from his neck into my mouth and I’m draining him as quickly as I can, f
ueled by hunger and revenge and—
Suddenly Solon’s hands are wrapping around me, pulling me back, my fangs unhooking, and it’s then that I realize what I’ve done.
It’s also then that Matt realizes it too.
He stares at me in horror, hand at his neck to stop the bleeding, staggering on his feet. I didn’t take enough, he won’t die, but he’s looking at me like he wishes he were dead. He at least wishes I were dead.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, trying to spit up the rest of the blood in my mouth, the taste suddenly disagreeing with me. It’s not Solon’s blood, it doesn’t bring me life in the same way. This belongs to a shallow, manipulative, ingenuine boy with whom I never had any chemistry to begin with.
And with blood, chemistry is everything.
“You psychopath,” Matt says, his voice ragged, wincing from the pain. “You killed Elle, didn’t you? You did the same to her, didn’t you?”
I shake my head, tears rushing to my eyes. “No, I didn’t kill her, I didn’t kill her, I loved her, I swear to you.”
“Lenore,” Solon says, his voice a command.
Both Matt and I look at him. He’s never looked more like a warrior—or a mob boss, chin raised high, eyes dark and focused on Matt, steady as a rock.
“You killed her,” Matt says, pointing at him with his free hand. “You killed her. Both of you did.” He looks to me, shaking his head. “What do you think you are, vampires? You’re a fucking sick freak!”
I look around in a panic, praying that no one is lurking nearby. It’s empty back here, but I know people aren’t far away. All he has to do is raise his voice, and if no one in the club hears us, then the bouncer definitely will.
“Lenore,” Solon says again, and this time his voice is a warning.
Warning me of something I’m not going to like.
He moves so fast behind Matt that Matt is still blinking at the spot that Solon once was, wondering where he went.
But Solon is right behind Matt now.
Both strong hands pressed on either side of Matt’s head.
I open my mouth to cry out, but Solon is too fast.
He moves his hands with lightning speed and breaks Matt’s neck with a loud snap that fills the courtyard.
The scream dies in my throat.
Matt slumps to the ground, dead, eyes staring up at nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It feels like I sleep for days, but when I finally open my eyes, I’m still in the same clothes as the night before. Still in the black dress with the red roses, the chest covered in dried blood.
Matt’s blood.
I close my eyes, horror rolling through me.
I attacked him. I bit him, drank his blood. I put me and Solon at risk. I lost control of what makes me human, my morals, my guiding compass. I lost everything by sinking my teeth into his neck, all to satisfy my thirst and to let loose my rage at him.
Now I understand the murders that vampires commit. I understand how easy it is to lose control and give yourself over to the power. You think you’re a god, think you’re unstoppable. Think you can drink blood and make the rules because you can live forever.
Last night, that darkness I carry inside me, the darkness that’s only come out to play a few times, flirting with chaos, it made its presence fully known. It became the chaos, out for blood, disregarding everything I thought I was.
A good person.
I am not a good person.
I attacked Matt for more than one reason, and none of them were right.
And now he’s dead.
Another person gone. Sure, he wasn’t a friend like Elle was, though he pretended to be, but he was someone I knew. He was a human being with his own promising life, and my actions took that away from him.
I did this.
People are starting to die around me because of what I am, who I am.
And I have no idea what I can do to stop it.
Then there’s Solon.
After he finished Matt off, he quickly dragged him into the Black Sunshine and then we left. Neither of us said a word to each other on the drive back to the house. I think we were both too shocked and numb and mad.
I know I’m mad at Solon for killing him. I understand why he did it, that he didn’t really have much choice, that reasoning with Matt would have been impossible after I already attacked him. Perhaps Solon could have compelled him, but maybe he’s not perfect either, acting on instinct.
And I know Solon is mad at me. For losing control like I did, for going after Matt in the first place, putting us at risk, and definitely for drinking his blood. Time and time again Solon told me that I was to only feed from him, and here I was caught up in the bloodlust and thirst, drinking Matt’s blood when all I should have done is wait until I was at home to do that with Solon.
In fact, up there with the fact that I got Matt killed, is the fact that I completely betrayed Solon. To him, it’s the same as if I slept with someone else, the fact that we feed off each other, an Ouroboros, is an extremely intimate act for us, and then I went and drank the blood of someone else…he’s pissed beyond pissed.
So much so that when we got back to the house, he went straight up to his room, wouldn’t even let me apologize.
And now? Now what? What the hell do I do?
Solon might have an actual monster inside him, but so do I. It just comes out in different ways.
I have no idea how to make peace with it, or if I even want to. I don’t want to be this person who causes death and destruction in her wake. That’s not what I wanted with my life. I wanted my life to be about discovery and preservation. I wanted to travel the world and unearth mysteries of the past and bring some meaning to our lives. I wanted to give meaning to the dead, to the civilizations before us, and hope we could learn from them.
I wanted so much, and yet that’s not what my life is turning out to be at all. I’m so fucking lost and scared, scared of myself most of all. Sure, I’m having nightmares about Solon’s father and his army of creatures, I’m surrounded by beings that may be hunting me, and there are so many disturbing things to come to terms with in my new life.
But the thing I’m most scared of, more than any of that, is me.
Solon said he was the monster under everyone’s bed, the reason why the fairy tales got told. But it’s me who is the true monster. At least Solon knows what he is and owns it and fights it, lives with it.
I don’t know how to live with the darkness in me. I don’t know how to come to terms with the fact that I can be so vehemently awful.
I don’t know if I can keep this up.
I get out of bed slowly and take a long shower, enjoying none of it, going through the motions, then wonder if I should try and talk to Solon. He’s a passionate man underneath the cool exterior, and a possessive one, and he probably won’t give me the time of day. I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger before and it’s a hard pill to swallow, especially when I’m so fucking in love with him. Adds an extra complication and dimension of pain to the whole scenario.
What I need, what I really need, is to see my parents.
I know my relationship with them is complicated too, but they’re all I have. If I don’t have Solon, then that’s it. Sure, there are others in the house, Amethyst and her mother, Wolf, but they are all at Solon’s command in the long run. I need to be with the people who are free from that. My real family.
So I get dressed into my leggings and a short-sleeved tunic, all black, and then create a doorway into the Black Sunshine in my room. I make sure to take my purse too, and I almost leave the ruby necklace behind but decide I should keep it on. I know it only tells me if Solon is near, but it does bring me comfort and if it’s the most I have of him going forward, then I can use all the comfort I can get.
I step inside the gray, seal it up, and then quickly make my way down the stairs and out of the house, not passing by anyone. Not that they would be able to see me per se, but I do think if I were to brus
h past Wolf in his ghostly form, he’d be able to tell and would probably alert Solon.
That said, I wouldn’t mind if Solon came after me. It would at least show that he still cares. He gave me a look last night when we got back that was so icy cold it made my blood freeze in my veins. I never want him to look at me like that again. I’ll take any other version of him but this one that doesn’t feel anything.
Oh crap. Think I’m going to start crying all over again.
I hurry through the Veil, wasting no time, and luckily I don’t see any of the shadow souls. I get to the apartment, go through the front door and up the stairs to my parent’s level, until I’m in the kitchen.
Both of them are sitting around the island, drinking something, their glowing shapes frozen in place.
This is going to scare the hell out of them.
I create the flaming door in the air and then step through, into the world of color and life.
“Oh my goddess!” my mother exclaims, hand at her chest, as my father drops his cup, golden tea spilling across the wood. “Lenore!”
I look at the both of them, the door closing up behind me, and then burst into tears.
My mom comes over to me, pulling me into a hug, while my dad quickly cleans up the mess. Together, both with their hands on me, giving me a sense of peace I haven’t felt in a while, they bring me over to the couch in the living room. I’m reminded of how they took care of me after the incident in my kitchen, piling blankets on top of me, bringing me tea. This time though I’m not filled with rage at them, I’m just so fucking sad, and all my rage is directed at myself.
I cry for a long time, parents on either side of me, handing me tissues, keeping their arms around me. Eventually, the tears subside but the awful, black feelings in me remain.
“What happened?” my mother asks softly. “Please tell us, sweetie.”
I take in a deep, shaking breath. “You’re going to look at me differently after I tell you. You’re not going to love me anymore.”
Now it’s my dad’s time to get emotional, tears glistening in his eyes. “Lenore, baby,” he says emphatically, “of course we’ll still love you. No matter what. We promise.”
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