by ERIN BEDFORD
I put a hand up and used my vampiric strength to keep him in place. He stared down at me in surprise. “Please, stop for a moment. I know what this looks like, but you have to understand, Patrick is one of the Fold who shares our goals.”
“It’s true, Mr. Feldman.” Patrick came up behind me, his hand settling on my shoulder. My father’s eyes glared at that hand, but Patrick didn’t move it away. Stubborn men.
“I hardly find your words reassuring,” my father snapped and then turned on his heels, stomping back into the living area. Casting a warning look over my shoulder, I hurried after him, not caring if Patrick followed or not.
“Father,” I sighed, stopping next to him, “just let me explain.”
“I don’t need to hear any explanation. It’s obvious what’s going on here.” He growled as he started opening and shutting cabinets.
“What are you looking for?” I asked, trying to appease him somehow. Patrick entered the room and made the sound decision to stand as far away from my rampaging father as possible. Smart man.
“I’m just looking for a ...” His voice trailed off as he opened another cupboard before grabbing something out and slamming it shut. “A cup.” He lifted it in the air to show me before turning to the beat-up refrigerator. It buzzed with life which was unusual for this time of year. Electricity wasn’t that common in the Glade, we had to use a lot of our perishables before they went bad. My father pulled a pitcher out of some dark brown liquid and filled his cup before putting it back.
Taking the chance to talk while he drank deeply from his cup, I moved even closer. “I’m sure you’re confused and upset, but I want you to know that Patrick really is on our side.”
The cup slammed against the counter making me wince, and my father stared at me hard. “You want me to believe this monster. This man who promised me he’d love and cherish you for the rest of your life isn’t the one who changed you to be just like him?”
I paled and quickly said, “No, he’s not. Patrick didn’t—”
“Clarabelle.” Patrick’s voice interrupted me. I glanced back at him, and he gave me a reassuring look. “It’s alright.” To my father, he said, “It was me who changed her. I was given a choice by the other Crimson Fold members, change her or kill her. I chose the prior and prayed she wouldn’t hate me for it later.”
My father gaped at him as I did, but Patrick continued as if we weren’t looking at him like a crazy person.
“I care deeply for your daughter, Mr. Feldman.” Patrick tucked his hands into his pockets and dipped his head. “And while I admit it is my fault she was chosen in the first place, I can’t say I regret it. Your daughter is an amazing woman, someone I would be proud to call my wife if she ever gave me the chance.” This time, his eyes moved to me, the genuine emotion there making my heart jump into my throat.
“Fine.” My father snapped, and I turned back to him. “So, you’re sorry. You had a hard decision, and you chose to save her. Fine. I can accept that.” He glanced at me with a sad smile. “I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same if I was in his position. However ...”
His smile dropped as his eyes swiveled back to Patrick. “What I can’t forgive is how you could let this happen in the first place? How could you let it get this bad for so long? You have all the power, and we have nothing, no way to know what is going on, save for my daughter, who had to be smuggled out just to let everyone know the truth.”
“I know.” Patrick nodded. “And I have no excuse but my own cowardice. I might be the oldest of my kind, but it wasn’t until recently that I have come to appreciate the life around me. It was actually Asher” - Patrick smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but grin back - “that made me see what they, what we were doing was wrong. But you have to understand.” Patrick stepped closer, his hands up in a harmless manner. “I might be their leader, but they are still vampires. One wrong word and the entirety of them would fall upon me, and then no one would be there to speak for your kind. Finding Clarabelle was a blessing in that way.”
His hand slid into mine, and I didn’t pull away. I realized the profoundness of letting him hold my hand in front of my father. It said I was standing by his side, and I couldn’t say that I didn’t like it.
“So, what’s your plan?” my father said after a moment of processing Patrick’s words. “How are you going to make sure that my daughter survives this?” He nodded towards us, clearly avoiding looking where our hands were. “She’s already lit a fire in the people here, and it’s too late to go back. If they make for the Core, how will you make sure those who don’t deserve to die get out alive?”
Patrick stiffened at his words before a mask of stone covered his face. “I will do what I have to in order to keep those I love safe.”
Love? My eyes widened, and my mouth dropped open. I tried to mentally make Patrick look at me, but he kept his eyes forward on my father. How could he drop something that huge on me without acknowledging me at all?
My father shifted uncomfortably, not caring for his words but not saying anything about it. “I’m happy to hear it, but that doesn’t explain what you are doing in my house uninvited in the middle of the night.”
“That’s my fault.” I stepped in front of Patrick before he could answer. “I asked him to come so we could talk.”
Raising a brow, my father surveyed me curiously. “Talk about what?”
I wasn’t fast enough to give an excuse before Patrick answered for me. “About Marsha.” I spun around so fast it made me dizzy. “I was here to talk to her about helping Marsha.”
“You were?” I asked and then when Patrick stared at me meaningfully, I quickly nodded. “Right, right. Marsha needs our help.” I turned back to my father, a sad expression on my face. “It’s really horrible what they did to him. He doesn’t remember anything. The election, anything. He’s pretty much this woman Tris’ toy.” Just talking about it made anger rise in me.
My father seemed startled by my admission and took another drink from his cup. The more I stared at it, the more I had a feeling it wasn’t something he would regularly drink. Alcohol, most likely. A part of me was ashamed. Had I really reduced my father to this? Drinking his problems away?
Choosing to ignore his new vice the way he had so quickly overlooked how close Patrick and I was in front of him, I worked on reassuring him the only way I could. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I gave them a squeeze. “Everything will be alright. Just wait. You’ll see.”
Snorting, my father dragged me into a tight hug. “I hope you’re right. For the sake of us all, I hope you are right.”
I let him hug me for as long as he wanted. I didn’t know when we’d have the chance again. If it bothered Patrick, he didn’t say so, and I didn’t care. He might not remember much of his family, but my father was the only thing I had left, and I wasn’t going to give him up so quickly.
After my father released me, he told us good night and for Patrick to lock up behind him when he left. Alone once more, I stared off at where my father had disappeared worry filling me. Patrick had to call my name more than once to get me to look at him.
“Hm?”
“It will be alright, Clarabelle.” His tone was so sure, so confident. I had a tough time not believing him, even though I had said the same thing to my father and knew that half of it had been a lie.
Not wanting to linger on it any longer, I asked, “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
I walked over to Patrick and placed my hand on his arm, staring up at him beneath my lashes. “About saving Marsha. Did you mean it?”
Patrick smiled softly. “I never say something I don’t mean.”
“Can you really do it?” I asked, trying to ignore the way his hand settled on my hip so naturally. “Give him his memories back?”
Patrick’s fingers slid underneath the hem of my shirt and drew lazy circles on my skin, making my head feel funny. “I can’t promise anything. I’ve restored memories on a smaller scale but
nothing like they did to him.” He paused for a moment, and I tipped my head back completely to meet his gaze. “Would it make you happy? If I did this?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek and thought about what he was asking. If he could return Marsha’s memories, then we had a chance to be together. However, things had changed since his memories had been taken. We weren’t the same two kids promising to go on a date in an impossible situation. Heck, I wasn’t even human anymore. I wasn’t even sure if he’d still want to be my friend, let alone anything else.
There was also the matter of Patrick. How I felt about him had changed so significantly over the last two days, I couldn’t just ignore it. Also, he just told my father he loved me! How could I just throw Marsha in his face after that? I couldn’t ... but I also couldn’t leave Marsha to rot with that piece of trash Tris.
Taking a deep breath, I arched up on my tip toes and pressed my lips to Patrick’s. It was a brief kiss but the first I’d ever initiated, which made it even more nerve-racking. Dropping back on my heels, I breathed out my answer, “Yes, that would make me happy.”
Patrick’s hands curled tightly against my hips as he pressed me firmly against him. “Then I will do everything in my power to make it so.”
He kissed me again after that, this time fiercer as if he were trying to ingrain himself into my memory. Like he needed to try. He was the only person I’d ever kissed, and as I laid in my bed after he’d gone, I had a feeling he’d be the last one I’d ever kiss as well.
We’d agreed to meet later that day in the tunnels where he would take me to Marsha, and we’d attempt to bring him back. I had been sad to see him go and almost asked him to stay but knew what that would imply, and I wasn’t quite ready for that step yet. If I’d ever be.
“Just get through this alive. Then you can worry about romance,” I told myself, trying to lull myself to sleep but my mind was too busy. It wasn’t until the light touched the sky that I finally fell asleep. This time, when I closed my eyes, the last thing I thought about was a pair of pale eyes and a small smile that made my heart flutter.
Oh, was I in trouble.
Chapter 13
I tossed and turned all morning. By the time I got up, I felt as if I hadn’t slept a wink. Not conducive for a rescue mission.
Cleaning up the best I could, I left my room to find my father and the leaders sitting at our kitchen table. When the floorboards creaked beneath my feet signaling my arrival, all five heads looked up. Only two of the three didn’t look at me with some form of disdain or fear. I guess I should have expected it.
“Hey.” I gave a small wave which only my father and Mara returned with a nod. I met my father’s eyes and said, “I’m going to go do that thing we talked about last night.”
“Alright, be safe,” he said, dismissing me without another word. I wasn’t sure what that was all about, but I had a feeling it had to do with the unsettling atmosphere in the room.
“What thing?” Dale asked suspicion in his voice. He looked to my father and then to me, his eyes hard.
My father answered before I could say something sarcastic. “Nothing you need to worry about. Now, Clarabelle said the tunnel entrance was over here.” He pointed to a worn-out paper on the table in front of him. One look told me it was a map of Alban. Looked like they were planning their attack. No wonder they didn’t want me around.
“How do we know this isn’t some trick?” the bald man, I still didn’t know’s name, snarled at me as if it were me who was the enemy. “How do we know that there won’t be Core soldiers waiting for us on the other side?”
“Quell ...” my father started, but I cut him off.
“You don’t.” I quipped before my father could try and defend me again. No good was going to come out of letting him fight my battles. “But you have to trust that I want what is best for you and the rest of Alban. Otherwise, why would I have brought this to you?”
Quell gestured violently at me. “I don’t know. Maybe this is some twisted game you monsters play to get your rocks off. You said they were crazy. How do we know this isn’t just another one of their past times? Pick off the weak and disloyal every century or so?”
Honestly, it was a good idea. If I’d been as cruel and vicious as the Crimson Fold, I’d have probably done that very thing. Kill any kind of rebellion before it could start. However, I wasn’t that type of person or, well, vampire. But I didn’t see how I’d be able to convince someone so bound and determined to condemn me for others like me.
“For all my word is worth, I can assure you it’s not.” I sighed and glanced at Mara, her expression full of concern. “No one knows you are coming. You can strike fast and hard. There is a total of thirty-two vampires including myself.”
“Good, then we can start with you.” Quell jumped at me before anyone could do anything, but I was faster.
I stepped to the side and grabbed his arm, using his forward momentum to knock him to the ground. I pulled his arm tight behind his back until he cried out in pain.
“You can’t use brute force to kill me,” I growled into his ear, pushing on his arm just a bit more before letting him go. Turning back to the table, I scanned my eyes over the fearful faces. “Vampires aren’t just ageless. They’re fast and strong. They can hear you before you can even think about sneaking up on them.”
“So, what can we do?” Mara asked, her eyes going to Quell where he stumbled to his feet. “How can we possibly win?”
I offered her a small smile. “By being smarter.” To the rest of the table, I said, “Attack in numbers, never go at it alone or they will use their powers of compulsion against you. And aim for the head.” I slashed my hand out to where Quell came up behind me, causing him to stop in his tracks. “And the heart.” I pointed a finger at Quell’s heart. “Any kind of weapon will do. If you cut off the head or destroy the heart, they won’t be able to heal.”
“Why are you doing this?” Nex asked, a nervous tick in his cheek. “I mean, you’re one of them now. Aren’t you afraid you’ll get brought down with them?”
I shrugged. “I don’t want to die. I also didn’t want to be changed into this, but there’s nothing I can do about it but make sure no one else is turned into a monster.” And escape while I still could, though that part I kept to myself.
“You better go.” My father gave me a meaningful look, reminding me that Patrick was waiting for me.
With a soft smile and a nod, I turned to the door. I gave Quell a warning look before pushing past him, making sure to bump my shoulder against his on the way. Childish? Sure, but the guy had just tried to kill me. I was allowed a little bit of childishness for that. After all, my days of being a child were over. It was time to figure out the rest of my existence, well, if I lasted that long.
When I stepped outside the house, the smell of burning wood hit my nose. My eyes instantly searched out the fire and found a group of teens and young adults hanging around a giant bonfire. Their laughter wafted through the air, and a sense of longing filled me. I’d never get to be one of them again. The thought hurt me more than any words Quell or the others could have said to me. I knew my place now, and it wasn’t with them.
I moved down the path toward the graveyard, my eyes down on the ground. So much had happened over the past few months, it was hard to believe I was still the same person. Well, minus the vampire part. I wondered what the next few months or even years would bring. Would I still be here? Would Alban still be here? Or would everything burn to ash?
As I stepped into the bundle of trees near the graveyard, a branch cracking caused all my questions to evaporate. I tensed, searching the area, my eyes perked for an attack. Another crack of wood and I spun around, fangs bared.
Patrick stood behind me, an amused expression on his face, his hands up in the air. “Easy now.”
Relaxing, I frowned. “Don’t do that. I’m already jumpy as it is.”
Coming out of the tree line, Patrick walked over to me. “Why? Are yo
u nervous?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Just too many things going on in my head right now.” I sighed and stared down at the ground. “My father and the other leaders were at the house when I got up and let’s just say the encounter was not pleasant.”
“I see.” Patrick hummed and then placed a hand on my lower back urging me forward. “Well, it is almost over. Then you won’t have to worry about them anymore.” He stopped us by the entrance to the tunnel. “For tonight, just worry about helping Marsha. The rest will follow suit.”
I stared up at him, not quite knowing what to make of him. “Why are you doing this? You hate Marsha. I’d think you’d more likely want him to die with the rest of them, not save him.”
Patrick placed his hands on either side of my arms and rubbed them up and down. The feeling that came from it was more than just nice, and I had to force myself not to lean into his touch. “I told you before, I’m your husband. I want to do what will make you happy, and if that means helping the boy, then I will do so.”
I smiled slightly at his reference to Marsha. At least some things hadn’t changed. He and Marsha had never seen eye to eye, not just because of the vampire thing but because they both thought they had some claim to me. Not that I’d ever discouraged either one. It was still funny that Patrick was doing anything for Marsha at all. That left the fact that if he wasn’t doing it out of the goodness of his heart, that meant he was doing it for me, and I didn’t know I felt about that.
Shifting out of his grasp, I busied myself with opening the tunnel. Patrick followed me down the stairs, closing the door behind us. If we’d been human, we’d have been in complete darkness, but instead, the inside was a mixture of grays.
We walked for a while, neither of us bothering to use our super speed to get to the Core faster. It was a comfortable walk, no words were needed between us, which I think bothered me even more than if it had been awkward.
