Forever Starts Now

by Kallysten

  It was corny, and he would have told her as much—though he wouldn't have denied the truth of her words, not anymore—but a voice behind them didn't give him time to do so.

  "Forever?"

  Both Matthew and Claire turned to find themselves in the line of a crossbow.

  "If you ask me,” Jonas sneered, “forever is overrated."

  If the crossbow had been directed at him, Matthew would have moved already, and either put some distance between him and Claire or rushed at Jonas without waiting. The crossbow, however, and its very deadly stake were pointed steadily at Claire, and Matthew had little doubt that Jonas could strike down a vampire on the first blow. The only reason she wasn't dust yet was Jonas’ anger, flashing in his eyes, overwhelming in his scent, but this same anger made the man very dangerous.

  "I gave you a chance, Claire. I let you and your beau get away. And what did I get as a thank you?"

  "I didn't—"

  Jonas continued as though he hadn't heard her. “I get accused of your murder. I lose my Special Enforcer license, my job, everything that was important to me. Everything.” He laughed, the sound like wind rushing down an icy mountain. “And it all started when I lost you."

  At Matthew's side, Claire raised her hands as though to calm Jonas down. She started taking a step toward him, but Jonas visibly tensed.

  "Don't,” Matthew urged, very low, and she stopped moving.

  "I didn't want that to happen,” she said, slow and quiet.

  If Matthew hadn't been able to read her scent, he could almost have believed she was as calm as she appeared. She was anything but. She was scared, and struggling not to show it. Matthew felt fear, too, but not for himself. He had thought he had lost her already that night; he wouldn't let it happen for good.

  "If I had thought anyone would believe I was dead, I'd have left a note, or talked to someone. It was an accident, please believe me."

  Jonas’ aim wavered. He shook his head. Claire wasn't getting through to him, but he was listening. That was good. As long as he listened, he wasn't hitting the trigger.

  "We can go to the police. We can go together. We'll get it on the record that I'm still alive—"

  Jonas snorted, but Claire didn't flinch and continued talking as slowly and gently as she had so far.

  "I'll even say the video was a fake. I don't know if they'll reinstate you, you'll probably have to fight for it, but you'll have a fair shot. I'll help as far as I can. Just let me help."

  Jonas’ eyes never wavered from her face as she talked, not until Matthew tried taking a step to the side, away from her and closer to Jonas. His gaze jumped to Matthew, daring him to move even an eyelash, before returning to Claire.

  "I'd like to believe you. If you hadn't tried to kill my girlfriend, I'd have believed you. If."

  His aim firmed, the difference barely there but a glaring sign for Matthew. He was about to press the trigger.

  "You tried to kill his girlfriend?"

  Matthew's outburst surprised Claire enough that she stepped back and sideways, so that her body was angled toward him, now. Better, as it would be a much trickier shot for Jonas now, but not good enough. Only when she was completely safe would it be good enough.

  "It's not like that,” she started, but Matthew cut her in.

  "I taught you better than that.” His voice rose in volume, echoing down the alley. He watched Claire's eyes widen as her scent shifted toward uncertainty. “You. Don't. Kill. You don't need to kill. Not unless someone is ready to kill you, and if you're forced that far, don't be stupid enough to leave them alive to tell the tale!"

  The uncertainty changed into incredulity and Claire faced him fully, her eyes flashing in outrage. From the corner of his eye, Matthew could see the crossbow, still pointing at Claire, but the angle was wrong, now. She'd be hurt if Jonas shot, but she wouldn't die.

  "I did not try to kill her.” The calm from earlier was gone, replaced by righteous indignation. “And I can't believe you'd rant at me now when—"

  She was going to pull Jonas into the discussion, exactly the opposite of what Matthew had tried to do. He had to act now. He jumped.

  * * * *

  It happened so fast, Claire only understood what had happened when it was over. It all couldn't have lasted than a minute, two at the most, yet time seemed to stretch without limits.

  Matthew had riled her up on purpose, she could see that now. With her attention off Jonas, she moved without thinking, and Jonas, caught in the argument as well even if only as a witness, didn't call her on it. She didn't realize she was facing away from the crossbow until the stake flew barely an inch in front of her. Matthew had just rushed at Jonas.

  By the time Claire turned to them, they were on the ground, Matthew pinned beneath Jonas and struggling to get the upper hand. The crossbow was a foot away from them, but Jonas had a stake and thrust down toward Matthew's chest. Claire gasped. Matthew struck at the stake with his hand and it slashed across his palm. Blood blossomed on his skin. The sight of it made Claire cringe, and realize in the same instant that she could be more than a spectator.

  She looked around her for a weapon, anything to hit Jonas and shove him off Matthew. And then it struck her. She was a vampire. She already had a weapon: herself. She walked up behind Jonas. Caught as he was in his struggle with Matthew, he didn't notice her. She could have caught his head in her hand and broken off his spine. She could have sunk her fangs into his artery and bled him to death. She did neither, however, and instead, remembering how Diane had taken hold of Jonas’ girlfriend, remembering the lessons Matthew had given her, she locked her right arm around Jonas’ neck, clutching her wrist with her free hand and propping that arm against his back.

  He immediately grabbed her arm, trying to loosen it and get the blood flowing to his brain again. She held on, and kept holding still, even when he struggled to get back to his feet and tried to shake her off. She held on until he went limp against her. She checked for his heartbeat as she released him, relieved to find it going strong.

  Straightening up, she offered her hand to Matthew to pull him to his feet.

  "See?” She pointed at Jonas on the ground. “I do listen. He's not dead."

  Matthew grimaced. “He's not, but it's not over. His girlfriend's a S.E., isn't she? If she reports that you attacked her, it's a death sentence hanging over you."

  "I didn't even raise a hand on her! She menaced me, and Diane took her down."

  "Diane?” He blinked at that, as though surprised. “Never mind. She accused you, at least to Jonas, and now we've taken him down but not completely..."

  He raked a hand through his hair. It was odd to see him like this, unsure of what came next. Claire found that she didn't mind seeing him lose his cool. As ironic as it was, it made him seem more human.

  "We could still..."

  He trailed off without finishing, but Claire understood when he looked down at Jonas. She crossed her arms.

  "No. We're not killing him. He may be a bastard, but I won't have his death on my mind. You said life is precious. If it's true, even his is precious."

  Once, she wouldn't have even imagined contradicting her Sire so blatantly. This night, she did so without hesitating, vaguely aware of how far she had come since her siring. Walking away from Matthew for all these months probably had helped.

  A half smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. He reached out to Claire and ran a hand up and down her arm. She realized she was shivering.

  "You did listen,” he murmured. “But we can't just leave him there. He let us go once, but I don't think he will do that a second time, not after tonight. As long as he thinks we're alive, he'll try to track us down."

  A single word—'us'—and the small fear that had been growing stronger at the back of Claire's mind dissipated like the mist in the sun. A step was all Claire needed to be in Matthew's arms. They closed around her without hesitation.

  "If we could only make him think we're dead,” she sighed. “Maybe
pour ashes around him in the shape of two bodies and hope he'll think that's us?"

  She had put enough petulance in her words that Matthew understood she was joking and laughed softly against her hair. After a few seconds however, he stopped abruptly.

  "That's it!"

  She pulled back to look at him, incredulous. “What, the ashes?"

  "No, something much better. Actual memories."

  Dropping a hand from Claire's back, he unclipped the small cell phone that accompanied him everywhere he went from the waistband of his pants and flipped it open. Claire quickly realized it was Diane on the other end of the line, and she listened to him give her quick directions to where they were. When he put the phone away, Claire looked a question at him.

  "Remember I told you the older you get, the more things you'll learn to do? Diane is very good at thrall.” At Claire's frown, he continued. “That's a bit like hypnotism—"

  "I know what it is. It's just ... Do you think it'll work? Can she make him believe, truly believe we're dead?"

  Matthew shrugged. His eyes returned to the man lying unconscious at their feet. “I don't know for sure, but right now that's the only option I can think of. At the very least, it'll buy us enough time to get out of town and find a place to hide."

  They were back where they had started, then, with the need to get away from a potentially dangerous place, but Claire hoped, and thought she had good reasons to hope, that something had changed from the moment they had left On The Edge. “Together?"

  A car accelerated in the nearby street, then people laughing walked by, unaware of their presence. The sounds filled Claire's mind as she waited for an answer, a sign that what she thought had happened earlier had truly taken place and that Matthew's barriers were down.

  "I still think I'm responsible for your death,” he murmured at last. “That's not going to change."

  "And I still think being sired is one of the best things that ever happened to me,” she shot back, “and not only because it brought me closer to you. That's not going to change either."

  He raised a hand toward her face, pausing at the last instant when he seemed to notice the blood on his palm. He stared at it for a few seconds, long enough that Claire wondered what the blood represented in his mind. Her siring? The link that joined them? She was about to ask when he looked back at her.

  "I guess we can give it a try. Together."

  Framing her face with his bloodied hand, he leaned in for a brief kiss. Claire wrapped her arms around him and buried a happy laugh against his chest. Behind them, Diane's footsteps echoed in the alley.

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  Epilogue

  The snowflakes were few and far between, barely a dusting on the stone-paved streets. Gusts of wind gathered them in swirls that formed as quickly as they disappeared. When they fell on Claire's navy blue coat, the flakes sparkled, catching every bit of light they could from the slim crescent of moon, from the lampposts lining the street, even from the stars that shimmered beyond the torn cover of clouds.

  It wasn't very cold, and even if it had been, it wouldn't have affected Claire. Still, whatever was left of her human years had her clutching the collar of the coat closed with her gloved hand. She imagined the token gesture was keeping in the little warmth that her body held, moments after feeding. The flavor and thickness of the blood still coated her tongue.

  At first, she had kept bagged blood in her office's mini-fridge for the nights when she worked late. It hadn't been long before it became her favorite way to feed. Sometimes, she missed sinking her fangs in living flesh, missed also the feel of warm blood spurting onto her tongue, and she went back to hunting. But humans always seem to expect more from her than she was ready to give, and bagged blood always became more attractive again after a few nights of refusing unwanted advances.

  The deep whistling of a boat on the nearby river caught Claire's attention and she changed her course. It was still early, midnight hadn't descended yet from the churches’ bell towers, and she had no reason to go home yet. It would still be empty.

  Since she had started her financial advising firm, Matthew hunted alone. Even before that, however, they had avoided as much as possible being seen together in public. Jonas was a continent and an ocean away and, as far as they knew, still convinced that he had killed the two of them, but they were more recognizable as a couple than alone, and they weren't taking any chances.

  When they had first moved here, it had taken Claire weeks to finally accept his solitary hunts. Getting used to the idea of Matthew hunting on his own and then coming back to their bed had been very difficult. After several nights of following him and a heated discussion about jealousy and trust, she had made a startling realization—something she should have known from the very first time she had talked to him. Matthew wasn't Jonas.

  Keeping a hand at her throat, she leaned against the waist-high stonewall that bordered the river. A boat was pulling a large V behind itself on the dark waters; the waves crashed against the pier a few feet beneath Claire, so regular that if she closed her eyes, she could almost believe herself on the seaside. The one thing missing to complete the illusion was the scent of sea salt and brine. The ocean coast was only two hours away, close enough to go there, one night, and make it a date. She wondered if Matthew would walk with her on the beach. She missed the feeling of sand sliding between her toes.

  Behind her, quiet steps grew louder as they came closer to her. She opened her eyes and tilted her head to one side. A thread of scent on the wind, and she relaxed again, her eyes returning to the boat as it was about to disappear past the round arches of a bridge.

  "Nice view."

  She turned to look at Diane, now leaning against the wall by her side, their elbows almost touching. “I thought so too. Where have you been?"

  "Oh, here and there. Sightseeing.” She paused, and a small, barely there danced on her lips. “Looking for a new Childe.” The smile widened just a touch.

  "You found one."

  "Maybe. Possibly.” She sighed and gave an absent shake of her head. “It's hard to find good Childe material, these days. But I've got a good track record."

  By the sideways look she gave Claire, she wasn't talking only about Matthew, and Claire felt a little embarrassed. Had she been human still, she would have been blushing. As it was, she didn't know how to answer, so she returned her eyes to the river. The waters had become tranquil again, and only small glimmers on the surface hinted that it was still flowing.

  "I trust you and Matthew have been careful?” Diane asked after a little while. “I won't always be around to thrall your way out of trouble."

  "Of course, we have been careful. You know Matthew."

  Diane laughed, bells chiming over the river, and the sky answered with more snow.

  * * * *

  Matthew opened the French doors and stepped onto the balcony. Earlier, the snow, heavy and wet, had fallen hard and long enough to cover the town in a sparkling blanket. It had now slowed down again, so that few flakes fell on him as he looked over the roofs spread at his feet. The apartment building was on a low rise on the outskirts of the city, and from the next to last floor the view was usually gorgeous. Tonight, it was fantastic.

  "You're going to get cold,” Claire chided from behind him.

  He smiled and half turned toward her, offering his hand to her. “Then come and warm me."

  She shook her head but took his hand nonetheless, her fingers light as a breeze as they curled around his. She allowed him to pull her outside with him. He led her in front of him and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back to his front.

  "Did it look like this, back in your time?"

  Matthew's mind slid back to a century earlier, but the images eluded him, and he quickly came back to the present.

  "I don't think I ever took the time to simply watch, back then. I was too busy living."

  "And now you take time to watch?"

  "Now I know t
hat watching is part of living. If you can't see the beauty around you, there's not much point to life."

  Claire shifted in his arms to face him, raising her arms to loop around his neck. She watched him for a long time, her eyes traveling over his features until they were practically a caress.

  "I know what you mean,” she said at last, and smiled very softly.

  A snowflake fell and clung to her eyelashes. He bent down to kiss it away, then kissed her lips, gentle and slow. When he pulled back, she rested her cheek against his chest and sighed. How had he ever believed he could live without her?

  "Do you have any regrets?"

  The question had been tugging at his mind for weeks, now. He knew, or at least he thought he knew, that she was happy, but sometimes he still thought of everything she wouldn't experience; the same things he had taken for granted until he had awoken a vampire.

  "Only that it took Diane's interference for you to turn me."

  Matthew needed a few moments to wrap his mind around the idea. He had never completely believed her before when she had said she didn't mind what she had become, but in that instant, with peace surrounding them like a cocoon, he couldn't not believe her.

  "Would you ever have bitten me? Not to turn me, just to feed."

  "No."

  She chuckled noiselessly against his chest. When she looked up, her eyes held an amused indulgence.

  "Not even if I had asked?” she insisted.

  "No."

  Her voice dropped to a whisper that sent tendrils of need curling around Matthew's spine. “What if I asked now?"

  "I ... could let myself be convinced."

  The amusement disappeared from her eyes and face. She seemed so serious, suddenly, that Matthew wondered what he had said to upset her. Her voice however remained as quiet, although maybe more intense, when she asked:

  "Bite me?"

  He leaned down again to her mouth for a kiss; her tongue slipped past his lips and came to stroke where one of his fangs hid. He extended them carefully, unwilling to nick her tongue. This wasn't what she had asked for. Drifting from her mouth to her jaw then down her neck, he trailed his lips and kisses along her skin. She shivered, and he held her a little tighter. He tried to make his bite as soft as his kisses. Claire hummed quietly when he pulled on her blood, slow and strong, just like he had taught her.