Aria and Will

by Kallysten

  The sound of the zipper filled the bedroom. He was done. He would leave, now.

  “Come with me.”

  She had known he would ask. Part of her had even hoped he would. It would have hurt too much, if he hadn’t even asked. That didn’t mean she could accept.

  Leaving the traveling bag on the bed, he came to her and knelt down, so close and yet he didn’t touch her.

  “Come,” he repeated, the word a plea more than a demand.

  “I can’t.” She forced the words out. They came with difficulty at first, but as she kept talking, she realized the void inside her wasn’t growing any larger, and it became easier. “You know that. It’s not any different from the first time you asked.”

  “It is different.” His voice strengthened, picking up a fire she hadn’t seen or heard in him for longer than she could remember. “You were human, the first time I asked you. You’re my Childe now. You’re supposed to do as I say. To follow me. Can’t you feel it?”

  There was just a hint of desperation in his last words, just enough that Aria’s certitude wavered. She searched herself, looked deep inside her, in the same place that hungered for blood and feared sunlight. She didn’t find anything that resembled what he was describing. It had been there, once, but not anymore.

  “I’ll miss you,” she said very softly.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He clenched his teeth, a muscle twitching on his jaw line. Looking away, he stood, picked up his bag and left without another word.

  Aria’s vision blurred, her eyes filling with tears. She had known for weeks that this moment would come, but it still hurt as deeply as any wound she had received in battle, if not more. Dying, she thought, had been easier than this.

  She allowed herself five minutes. She couldn’t afford to give her pain any more time than that. No, not her pain; her mourning. Lorenzo was lost to her, now, as unreachable as everyone she had ever cared about. Or, almost everyone.

  When the five minutes had trickled by, she forced her body to take deep, unneeded breaths, and slowly calmed down. She stood with some difficulty and walked to the small bathroom to wash her face in cold water. It helped; not much, but it did.

  Night had come. She was needed on the walls.

  * * * *

  After Lorenzo’s departure, Aria would have wanted nothing more than to give herself to the mindlessness of a fight, numb her feelings in the repetition of blows and kills. Of course, it would have been too easy if the demons had been amenable. There wasn’t a single one in sight, this night, not as far as she could see.

  Her fists clenched at her sides and she crossed her arms. At least it’d give Lorenzo a chance of reaching the next city without too much trouble.

  Abandoning her vigil, she turned around to look at the troops waiting in the street behind the walls. Some of them were talking, others played cards. Someone had brought a guitar and was practicing. Pairs, here and there, were practicing as well—and the sounds of their swords clashing together were more melodious at times than the discordant rifts rising from the guitar. Even from high above them as she was, Aria could recognize the vampires amongst all of them. There was just something in the way they moved that set them apart from humans.

  Not many vampires remained in the Guard for long. Usually, after a few years, they tired of it and decided to take their chances elsewhere. Like Lorenzo. The few who did stay were often those who had no clan and no other purpose. As far as she knew, there were only a handful of Sires and Childer fighting for the Guard—and tonight, there was one less. There were also very few vampires older than a couple of decades, and only one who had earned the title of Master, however that title was earned. There were many things Aria didn’t know about her kind, many questions Lorenzo had answered with a shrug and a frustrating “I don’t know”, and now she wouldn’t have even that. She could have gone to someone else to understand. She could have gone to Will. She had stayed away from him, however, as years passed, just as he had stayed away from her until that moment.

  “Quiet night.”

  She had heard him approach, and so his words did not startle her. They did surprise her, though. She couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to her when he hadn’t absolutely needed to. She turned her face toward him. He was leaning back against the waist-high rail of the wall, his silhouette dark against the sky. Needing to see his face, she came to stand by him. His expression left no place for doubt.

  “You know,” she said almost accusingly and looked away so he wouldn’t see her pain.

  He turned around and rested his forearms on the stones. From the corner of her eye, she could see that he was watching her.

  “I know. The sentries told me.”

  “You must have been happy to hear it.” Her voice held the bitterness of tears, but she didn’t let them rise to her eyes. “You never liked him.”

  She would have expected him to protest. He didn’t.

  “You’re right. I never cared much for him.”

  “Because he was my Sire.”

  “No. Because you loved him.”

  She looked at him at that, stunned. Will was never that candid. Pulling answers from him was practically impossible, usually. Why was he confiding this to her now?

  * * * *

  Why?

  Did I need a reason?

  How’s this for a reason: I’d waited four years for Lorenzo to get out of the picture, and now he had. She thought I’d been happy to hear it; honestly, ‘happy’ was far from the truth. Try ecstatic. That’s not something I’m accustomed to feel.

  As much as she wondered what I was up to, talking to her that night, she didn’t ask. She just leaned there, eyes lost on the horizon, a miserable look on her lovely face and her scent heavy with salt even if she didn’t cry. I wished I had known what to say to comfort her, but at the same time I couldn’t help being glad.

  See, it wasn’t so much the news of Lorenzo leaving that had made me so happy. Rather, it was the not so small detail that he had left alone.

  I’ve never minded silence and contemplation, but I was too excited that night to remain idle very long. While I was watching her, I noticed her hand closing on the hilt of her sword, easing it out an inch or two and letting it slide back in. I’d watched her do that same mindless gesture countless times before battles.

  On impulse, I grabbed that hilt, once she had let go of it, and pulled the sword out completely. She immediately tensed and looked at me, frowning.

  “What are you doing?”

  I took a few steps back and slashed the weapon back and forth in front of me. It made a soft swishing sound as it cut through the air. It was lighter than what I was used to, but well balanced.

  “Just checking your sword.” I brought the blade closer to my face and inspected it. “Good. It’s been sharpened recently.”

  “Of course I sharpen it. You think I’d fight with a dull blade?”

  She was holding out her hand toward me, demanding the return of her weapon without a word. I complied.

  “You do it yourself?” I asked, puzzled. “Why? The armory—”

  “She’s mine,” she interrupted me, and it took me a second to realize she was talking about the weapon. “I don’t just pick up any sword before coming to the walls.”

  I shrugged. “I do. Nothing wrong with that. They’re all good swords.”

  “I’m sure they are. But this one…” She raised it in front of her, watching the blade as closely as I had moments earlier. “This one saved my life a few times. I trust her.”

  There are few things I wouldn’t have offered, at that moment, to hear her say she trusted me on that same tone of voice.

  She slid the sword back in its scabbard with practiced ease. I thought she would return to her contemplation of the countryside—and, I was sure of it, to her brooding about Lorenzo—but she stayed as she was, facing me, a look of uncertainty now fluttering on her features. She was biting her lower lip, adding to my
impression that something was bothering her even more than I had thought so far. She rarely ever shared anything with me; she was more adept in finding fault with me. The one time we had spoken without strain, she had been wounded and afraid to die. And so I found myself oddly curious about what was on her mind.

  “What is it?” I asked when, after a couple of minutes, she still hadn’t said anything. My question seemed to free her.

  “Is there something wrong with me?”

  I blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Lorenzo said…” She took a deep breath. Her eyes were locked somewhere above my right shoulder. “He said as his Childe, I should have been… compelled to go with him. But I didn’t feel anything like that. I just didn’t want to leave.”

  I struggled with myself not to grin. I doubt she’d have liked that much. For years, I had known that Lorenzo was squandering the influence he should have had on his Childe, and now I had the result of that in front of me.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, Aria. The bond between Sire and Childe varies. It depends on a lot of things, including whether the Sire reinforces it or not. I doubt Lorenzo even knew how.”

  She looked straight at me at that, and I knew, at that instant, that she was going to ask one of two things—either how I knew about it, or why I had never told him. I didn’t feel like answering either question, so I added, as seriously as I could:

  “Then again, you were already pigheaded as a human. I guess it only got worse when you were turned.”

  I watched her eyes widen as she was clearly offended, and couldn’t help it. I grinned. She got the hint then that I was teasing her, and her face broke into a smile—but not before she had punched my arm and called me an idiot.

  “I’ve got to go talk to my squad,” she said after a little while. “Good night. And thanks.”

  I’m not sure what she was thanking me for—making her smile, maybe, or telling her nothing was wrong with her. I just know that her quiet words and the shy little grin she gave me as she left had my stomach flipping over in the most peculiar manner.

  Bergsen, rest his soul, had once said I was acting like a love struck teenager where Aria was concerned. I, of course, did no such thing—if only because when I’d been a teenager, I wouldn’t have dreamed of talking to a woman without a chaperone. Now, though, it was all I could think of. She was all I could think of. And therein lay the problem.

  In the past few years, I had known exactly where I stood—outside a Sire and Childe relationship—and what to do—nothing. Now it was time for me to court Aria. I’ll be damned if I knew where to start with that. Now don’t get me wrong, I had seduced a few women before her, and been seduced by a couple as well. But after years of watching her from afar, of remembering a single kiss while wishing I could forget it, of wanting her so much it hurt, what I had done on this first night, coming to talk to her, was just about the extent of what I could figure out I ought to do.

  Thankfully for me, she wasn’t hindered by such hesitations.

  Chapter 13

  Her mind still reeling from the sounds of battle—metal on metal and cries of pain—Aria staggered through her apartment to answer the door. She’d barely been in long enough for a quick shower and she had been about to fall into bed. She closed the sash of her robe a little tighter, yawned, then opened the door, scowling. Whoever thought it was a good idea to come bother her after five hours of fighting had the tongue-lashing of their life coming their way.

  Her foul mood disappeared in a flash, replaced by worry, when she found all five Heads of Squadron outside her door, all looking grim.

  “What is it?” She was still tired, but she wasn’t sleepy anymore, and she was ready to pick up her sword again, if needed. Her eyes settled on Mary, whose squadron had replaced hers on the walls when the attack had come to an end at almost three in the morning. “Did the demons come back? Are we under attack?”

  “We’re not,” Mary answered with a thin smile. “We just need to talk to you. Mind if we come in?”

  Aria was acutely aware, as she stepped aside to let her peers in, that they were all in uniform, even those who hadn’t been on duty that night, while she wore an old, frayed bathrobe. The five of them crowded the small living room, the sofa being just large enough for three of them to sit if they didn’t mind being pressed against each other.

  “There’s a couple of chairs in the kitchen,” Aria said blankly. “You can grab those if you want. I’ll get dressed and be right back.”

  She left them to sort the seating arrangements by themselves and stepped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She didn’t know what this was about, but whatever was going to happen, she would be dressed and decent when it came to her.

  As she hurriedly threw clothes on, she couldn’t help but wonder. Was this about Lorenzo? Since his departure two weeks earlier, she had been expecting to receive a formal blame for allowing him to leave with weapons that belonged to the Guard. If the five of them were there to talk to her about it, it couldn’t possibly be good.

  Dressed in slacks and a formal dress shirt, she returned to the living room. Mary and Lea had settled on the sofa. Paolo had pulled a chair into the corner. Jonas and Stephen were both standing by the far wall, but while Stephen was leaning back against it, Jonas stood straight as though waiting for an inspection. He was the one who indicated the chair they had drawn up for her.

  “Please, sit down, Aria.”

  She refrained from pointing out they were her guests, not the other way around. “I’d rather not,” she said, crossing her arms as she remained standing by the chair. “Will you tell me what this is about now?”

  “It’s about Wilhelm,” Paolo said. He leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. She had a feeling he had been designated by the others to talk. “Or rather, it’s about how close you are to him.”

  * * * *

  With the city’s difficulties in getting a steady supply of gas, the back and forth between the Guard’s headquarters and the walls was done on foot. Only wounded soldiers were given a ride back. Aria usually used that time to walk amongst the members of her squadron, talk to them, and evaluate their state of mind.

  This night, though, Wilhelm had joined her just moments after she started making her way toward the walls. They walked side by side, both of them quiet until the silence grew too heavy for Aria and she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

  “You used to patrol the city before coming to the walls, didn’t you?”

  He looked at her, head tilted to one side. “I did. That’s how we met, remember?”

  She nodded. She did remember. She remembered being scared out of her mind, and so, so sad as she trudged through that cemetery. Unconsciously, she reached inside her jacket and ran her fingers against the handkerchief she had sewn into the lining.

  “Why did you stop? There are still a couple vamp-related deaths every few weeks. That’s what you were trying to prevent, wasn’t it?”

  “It was, but I wasn’t all that effective. Too much ground to cover.”

  “So you stopped.” She couldn’t help putting a bit of incredulity in her words. “It’s hard to imagine you giving up on something.”

  “I didn’t give up.”

  They had reached the walls. They both had places to be. Still, Aria stopped for a second and looked at him questioningly.

  “I didn’t give up,” he repeated. “I just found something to do that was more important.”

  It wasn’t until later that night that Aria remembered. He had started showing up on the walls at nightfall at the same time she had become a full member of the Guard.

  * * * *

  Aria’s mouth was dry suddenly. She considered Paolo, then the others, looking for the reprobation or condemnation she was sure had led them to her. She saw nothing more than seriousness and did not feel reassured in the least. Carter and Stevenson had never shown much appreciation for Wil
helm, and they always became defensive when Aria, or someone else, brought up his name. Lately, she had been the only one mentioning him during meetings, usually to point out procedures he and Bergsen had once established. Could the Heads of Squadron be here now to blame her for it?

  “We’re not that close,” she said, hesitating a little. “We’ve just known each other for a while, and we’re friendly. Not even friends, really—”

  “Aria, please.” Mary raised a hand toward her, palm out and appeasing. “Just… hear us out.”

  She frowned, confused, but nodded. When she looked back at Paolo, he started again.

  “We would like you to talk to him for us. And ask him to take over the Guard.”

  Dumbfounded, Aria sat down in the chair beside her before her knees could give out.

  “Take over…”

  “You’ve said yourself often enough that Carter and Stevenson are ruining everything Commander Bergsen and Wilhelm built. We agree with you, all five of us do. We’ve just been more… discreet about our opinions.” He offered her a tight smile. “Do you realize the Majors have been preparing a file to get you dismissed from the Guard? They’ve scheduled a special meeting for tomorrow where you will be put on trial. They won’t call it that, but that’s what it will be. That’s why we want to act now.”

  Aria was taken by the most peculiar feeling of dissociation. Part of her heard every calm word Paolo pronounced and examined it coolly; it didn’t surprise her that much that the two Majors would be acting in this way. At the same time, another part of her mind was screaming in outrage. The Guard was her life, quite literally. She couldn’t even imagine what she would do if she was ever dismissed.

  Once the screaming in her mind had quieted down, she realized what was going on.

  “So this is…” She passed her tongue over her lips, nervous to even say the word. “A mutiny?”