by A. M. Hudson
“Who?”
“Jason.”
He squeezed my hand. “Are you?”
“He was always more human than David. He never even had to try.”
“And you always liked human, didn't you?”
I nodded.
“It was the first thing I noticed in his eyes, after I changed him,” Arthur said.
“What was?”
“The glimmer of compassion—something vampires commonly lose.”
“But he lost it later, didn't he? When David took Rochelle.”
Arthur looked down. “Yes, but not completely.”
I thought about Rochelle for a second. “He described it once, the way he felt to fall in love with a human. If he never lost his compassion, how come falling for a human changed so much in him?”
“Love does that. It opens your world.” Arthur laughed, letting go of my hand to unfold his in front of him, like wiping paint across the sky. “Once you’ve felt love, you notice light in the day you never saw before.”
I smiled. “Yeah. I guess that’s true. It was like that for me when I fell for David.”
“And for Jason?”
I shuffled uncomfortably. “That can't be classed as real love, Arthur.”
“Why?”
“Because he bound me. I was compelled to love him.”
“But you still cared for him—love aside.”
“I…I don't know.”
“What does your heart tell you?”
I asked it, in my mind, and the answer was always the same. “I hate the way David treated him. I hate that David killed Rochelle. I just feel so empty for Jason, and I know that's wrong, I know I should hate him for what he did to me, but, honestly, Arthur, if he were here right now, I’d thank him. And the next time I saw David, I’d punch him in the arm for being such a butt-wipe brother.”
Arthur laughed loudly. “Oh, my dear, if Jason could only have heard you speak those words, I know it would have washed away so much of the agony for what he was made to do to you.” His smile simmered away to thought. “I'm sure he is resting peacefully in his grave now.”
“You buried him?”
“Of course. What else would I have done?”
“Cremated him—like—” I didn't need to say it. Arthur knew who I was talking about.
“I know that is the preferred method after a venom death, but Drake was not there to enforce that law, and I could not bring myself to betray Jason’s wishes.”
“His wishes?”
“Yes. When he was a boy, on his deathbed, we asked him if he would rather cremation or burial.” His voice softened. “He asked that he be buried beside his mother.”
“Is that where he is?”
“No. He’s next to his brother’s empty grave, and that of his aunt.”
“In his old grave?” I nearly shot forward.
“Yes.”
“How could you? He should have had a proper burial.”
“Amara, imagine the paperwork I would have to file in order to commission a new grave for a member of society who was nineteen years of age and died suddenly of unknown causes.”
“But—that’s what your Set does. You forge things, don't you, you have doctors on your side?”
“Yes. But Jason was, by all legal rights, supposed to be cremated. Those who die of venom must be burned. That is the law. Who would I ask to help me write the orders up to bury him, when I was breaking the law by doing that?”
“Didn't you have friends that would lie for you?”
“My girl, if they were my friends, I would not ask them to risk punishment by lying for me.”
“But it’s so wrong. He shouldn't be buried in his old grave—marked as dying in nineteen-sixteen. People should know who he is and what his life meant to those who loved him!”
Arthur softened. “And his memory will live on in those people, for eternity. You're immortal now, Amara, and sometimes you have to act unfavourably in order to survive.”
“I don't like it.”
“I'm sorry. It’s the way things are.”
“No.” I shook my head, sitting straight. “As soon as we have control of the vampires, I'm having him exhumed and buried properly.”
“This bothers you deeply, doesn't it?”
“Yes.” I folded my arms.
“Does it not bother you that the ashes of your husband remain in the cindering base of the fireplace in the room where he died?”
I looked away. “I try not to think about it.”
“Then you will do the same when it comes to Jason’s final resting place.”
“Fine.” I bit my teeth together.
“I must tell you—” Arthur said, breaking the calm song of nature that filled the silence, “—how it warms my heart to know Jason was loved once, before he died.”
“Loved once?” I felt the muscles in my brow fold in. “Rochelle loved him, too.”
Arthur exhaled. “Not when she learned what he was.”
“What do you mean?”
“She came to him, told him she was pregnant. Concerned for hers and the child’s well-being, Jason brought her to me, asked that I deliver news to this girl that her boyfriend and child were vampires.”
“What did she say?”
“She told him to burn in Hell, then tried to kill him with the crucifix she wore around her neck.”
I covered my mouth. “He never told me that.”
“He never told a soul. I only knew because I was there.”
“Did David know?”
Arthur scratched his cheek. “Yes.”
“Before or after he killed her?”
“I suspect…before.”
So many questions simmered through me, like an alternately cold then hot pulse. I wondered if that was the real reason David killed her—because she meant to kill Jason, because she thought of his child—their child—as an abomination. “Poor Jason.”
Arthur looked down; his long lashes hiding his blue eyes. “The world cannot hurt him any longer, my dear.”
But that wasn’t enough for me. My chest shook and my face crumpled; I barely had time to cover my mouth before it all came out in a torrent of tears. “Oh, Arthur. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.”
“I know, my dear. I know.” He gently wrapped his arms around me, letting me sob, my whole body shaking in his arms.
“I don't want to feel anything for him. But he was so real. He was real and he got hurt, and no one made it all okay for him. And I keep telling myself it’s the spirit bind that makes me care, but it should be gone by now. I'm strong. I'm a vampire. The bind should be dissipating by now.”
“Has—” He sat me up a little and looked into my face. “Have your feelings toward Mike eased?”
I nodded, my tears stopping for wide eyes. “Like, heaps. I feel normal around him now.”
Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Then you must grieve Jason, Princess. Grieve him and the pain will ease.”
I shook my head against his jaw, covering my whole face with my hands. “It doesn't help. I’ve cried for him. I’ve cried for everyone I’ve lost, and it doesn't change how much I love them.”
“And it probably never will. But it will do you no good to deny your broken heart, either.”
I hiccupped a few times, sniffling. “Arthur?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“Please don't tell anyone.”
“Tell anyone what?”
“That I dreamed of him—that…that I cared for him.”
“I wouldn't even consider it, Princess. Our conversations—all our conversations—remain private.”
“Thank you,” I said in a quiet whisper against his shoulder.
When the tears finally settled, exhausted from all the things in my head, I laid back on the grass, with Arthur beside me, and we watched the clouds move slowly across the blue sky. The simplicity of the moment brought a kind of ease to my soul I’d not felt since I was human.
Petey eventually came back from his
all-important crow-chasing activities and laid beside me—my last connection to a man I wished I’d admitted I cared for when he could have heard me say it.
Yesterday afternoon’s training left me exhausted. By the time I finally fell into bed, after a long dinner—entertainment being the heated political debate between Arthur and the Lilithians—I pretty much passed out. Didn't even have any dreams; no scary ghost version of me and, to my disappointment, no memories of Jason. I wondered if I’d seen them all now—if I’d removed all the mind blocks he left in place. And that idea made my soul feel empty, disconnected.
I ran the brush through the lengths of my hair, watching each movement through the mirror of Arietta’s dresser, then picked up the perfume bottle by my hand and sniffed it. Nope, no garlic. I had cornflakes for breakfast, and I was pretty sure they didn't contain any garlic, so it seemed odd to be able to smell it. Perhaps it was some potion Arthur was cooking up. I did see a few cloves of garlic on his windowsill the other day.
I sprayed a little perfume on my wrist, just to make sure the garlic smell wasn’t me, then walked out of my room, closing my door behind me.
“Ara.” Mike came charging down the corridor at a half run. “There you are.”
“Been here the whole time. What’s up?”
“I'm coming with you this morning.”
“With me?” I shrugged, simultaneously shaking my head and frowning.
“Don't play dumb. I know you're going down to the cellblock.”
“Who told you?”
He grinned. “I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
I looked at the wall beside me, to the focused gaze of the woman in the painting there. “When I get back, I'm hanging you upside down.”
Mike laughed. “Don't take it out on her. Blame yourself for being foolish enough to think you’d get away with it.”
I dropped my arms to my sides. “I just want to see them.”
“That’s fine, baby, but you shouldn't have planned to go alone. You don't know what’s down there.”
“I have a map.” I pulled a small, repeatedly folded piece of paper from my pocket and held it up to Mike, who took it, opened it out, then laughed.
“Baby, this is a map of de la Mort’s cell block. Not Loslilian.”
“Oh.”
“Where did you get this, anyway?” He tucked it away in his own back pocket.
“I took it from Arthur’s ro—” Oops.
“What were you doing in there?”
“Relax.” I started walking. “I was just watering his plants. He asked me to do it while he was away on Saturday.”
“Fine. But, does he know you have his map?”
I shook my head. “I was gonna put it back.”
“Not anymore. I'm keeping it.”
“Why?” I said as we reached the base of the stairwell.
“Because it’s exactly what we need.”
“Why?”
He turned his head, his narrowed eyes searching my face, while sunlight shone through the doors of the Great Hall, making his hair gold. “What’s with the hundred questions today?”
I shrugged. “You took something that's mine. I want to know why.”
“Well, it’s not yours, so it doesn’t matter. It’s Core talk.”
“And what, I can't know what my army is up to?”
“It’s not relevant to you.”
Hmpf! I bit my teeth together. We wandered through the pale-coloured rooms along the first floor of the east wing, stopping by a large door at the very end.
“Throne room slash Court,” Mike said, pushing the door open. “The only people allowed to access it this way are your council, the House and you.”
“How does everyone else get in?”
“The front doors—on the outside of the manor.”
“Okay.”
We walked in and I expected to see a grand room with high ceilings, but I met the blue back of a curtain, closing us off in a small space. Mike shut the door behind us and kicked a rug out of the way, revealing a hatch.
“A secret door?” I smirked.
“Nope.” He opened the hatch and pulled something out. “Secret key.”
“Oh. Cool.”
In the wall panel behind him, hidden to the right of the door, was a small hole. He pressed the key in, turned it, and the panel came forward just enough for him to slip his fingers between it and the wall.
“This isn't the way I was told to come,” I said.
“This is the fastest way to the section you’re going. Usually you’d take the stairs through the Round room and follow a passage.”
“But, one of the maids said the door to the underground was in the Council Chamber.”
“Right. The Round Room.”
I frowned. “I thought the Council Chamber was that room we all sat in last night with the House.”
Mike groaned. “Ara—are you serious?”
I moved my shoulders up to my ears in a really slow shrug.
“Baby, the Round Room is important—it has, not only great historical significance, but is the place you’ll hold all your Private Council meetings—for the rest of forever. That room we were in last night was the board room.”
“Oh. I wondered why it wasn't round.”
Mike laughed. “Oh, baby, sometimes your lack of focus can be very endearing.”
I looked at the slightly open secret door. “So, where is the Round Room?”
“Through there.” He pointed to the curtain. “It’s underground, dark, secret, all that stuff.”
“And round?”
“Yes. But it’s not called the Round Room just because it’s round. There’s an old stone tablet in there—which is round—and is said to have been the meeting circle of the first knights.”
“Meeting circle? What, like, a table or something?”
“Exactly.”
“Okay. Well, thanks for clearing that up.”
“Anytime. Now, come on.” He took my hand and the underground chill rose up from the depth of the dark beyond, creeping around everything that contained life out here and sucking it away.
I pulled back a little. “Are there stairs there?”
“Come on. You’ll see.” Mike drew his phone from his pocket and opened iTorch, shining the white light down the barrel of a cavernous hole; stone steps led away in a curve around a cylindrical column hiding who knew what.
“Mike?” I laid a shaky hand to the air before me. “I don't like it down here.”
“You’ll be fine, baby,” he said, placing my hand onto the wall. “Just follow the curves and you won't fall.”
“Why is it so steep?” I couldn't see how far down this stairwell went, but it had a feel to it—a tilt, like walking down a really big hill.
“It goes pretty deep under the manor, Ara. What did you expect?”
I tried to shrug, but my shoulders were too stiff.
When the door closed behind us with a thud, sending an echo into the pits below, I squealed, hearing my own voice hit every step in this tunnel before bouncing back to embarrass me repeatedly.
“Ha! And you wanted to come down here alone.”
“I didn't know it would be this scary.” I moved closer to Mike and took his hand. “Is the other tunnel like this one?”
“Worse,” he scoffed, angling his torch to show the steps directly below our feet; they were all I could see—all I would focus on. The walls rose up around us, becoming higher and higher as we descended beneath the manor, and when we finally came to the base of the stairs, the slimy brown stones spread out to a corridor—longer than my eyes could make out, with a roof low enough that Mike had to hunch a little.
“Can’t you make that torch any brighter?” I nodded at the phone.
“This is as bright as it gets. You wanna hope I don't run out of battery.” He laughed. I did not find that funny at all. “You could use your electric light thing—in your hands.”
I looked at my fingertips for a second. “I don't thi
nk it works that way, Mike.”
“Try it.”
Among the eerie weight of fear this darkness pressed on me, I found a solid little thought—a happy one, and focused on it; David—his smile, his arms, his love. But despite the static charge in my skin, the light stayed dormant. I stretched my fingers, making them stiff, as if that would help, but it didn't. “I can't, Mike. It won't work when I'm scared.”
“It works if you’re gonna lose a fight.”
“Yeah, but that’s because I hate losing.”
“Well,” he said, and I noticed there was no echo to his voice, despite the empty, cavernous tunnel, “maybe you should imagine you’ll lose a bet. Maybe I’ll bet you can't make your light work down here.”
I smiled. “Nah. I don't really feel like having a headache today, anyway.”
“You still getting those?”
I nodded, but he probably didn't see it through the darkness. “If I'm on my own, just shooting stuff, I don't always get it.”
“Right. Well, we just need to exercise it. It’s like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it’ll get.”
“Hm. Well, I’ll just have to take your word for it,” I said.
“That’d be a first.”
“Shut up.” I aimed a soft punch at his arm, but missed, feeling his shoulder blade under my knuckles instead. He laughed, and we walked along for a while in silence then, our footsteps and my laboured breathing the only other sounds. I’d expected to hear screams of terror or moaning and groaning from our tortured prisoners, even expected to be grabbed at by reaching hands of despair, but as I ran my guiding touch along the wall, I noticed that, not only were there no horrible sounds, but no cell doors, either. It was just one long blank wall, leading to a black vortex a few meters in front where the light was too weak to reach.
I looked across at Mike; I could just see his jaw, his elbow and his wrist where he held the light, and I knew I was safe with him. Was also really glad he came with me.
“Glad I came with you now?” he asked, grinning.
“No. I could handle this on my own.” I stepped away from him, out of the safe glow of the light. “I wasn't planning to set them free or anything.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you, my sweet friend.”
