by ERIN BEDFORD
“You keep saying I left a mess. What mess?” Suddenly, my heart was in my throat. “Is Marsha—”
“He’s fine.” Patrick quipped a bit too sharply. Someone was still jealous. For some reason now, the prospect doesn’t irritate me. It amused me.
“Does he still not ...?” I asked, but the steely expression on Patrick’s face told me he was done talking about Marsha.
“My turn to ask the questions.” Patrick moved away from me, making it easier to breathe.
I was both thankful and disappointed. How I could be thinking of Marsha but still feel such a pull to Patrick baffled me. I couldn’t care for him, could I?
“What are you doing here?” Patrick’s question kept me from delving into my own emotions further.
Saving my inner turmoil for later, I thought of what to say to Patrick. Telling him that I was going to find out how many of vampires there were before I reported it to the leaders of the Glade so they could destroy them all, possibly me included, well, I didn’t see that going over well.
Opening my mouth to tell him some lie, Patrick stopped me.
“Don’t lie to me. It won’t end well for you.” Patrick’s tone was low and full of warning.
I swallowed the lies in my mouth and instead for some reason that I couldn’t define told him the truth.
Chapter 9
Patrick crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. I’d imagined he’d blow up and drag me back to the Core after hearing my plan. I didn’t think he’d actually consider it.
“So, you want to know how many vampires there are?” he arched a brow. “All the vampires?”
I hesitated and then sighed. “They won’t have a chance if they don’t know how many vampires they are up against.”
I chewed on my lower lip, contemplating the validity of my plan. Though the humans far outnumbered the vampires, they had a significant advantage over us, well, them. I hadn’t been a vampire for very long, it was hard to remember that I wasn’t part of the human populace anymore.
As if sensing my inner battle, Patrick asked, “Clarabelle, are you sure you want to do this?” The intensity of his eyes made me look away from him.
Licking my lips, I sighed. “I don’t really have a choice now, do I? You and Asher weren’t getting it done, and I’m not waiting a hundred years to slowly change things.” Patrick tried to interrupt me, but I cut him off. “No, there are too many of the Fold members who want me dead. Or worse. I’ll be lucky to survive the next year, let alone a century.”
Patrick stayed silent for a moment before inclining his head slightly. “I understand. Perhaps Asher and I did underestimate the enemies you might make by your ... difference.”
I gave him an incredulous look, making him chuckle.
“A difference I find refreshing and amusing.” Patrick stepped closer to me, placing his hand on my arm. It made the hairs on my skin stand on end, and I resisted the urge to rub them away.
“Fine, sure. I’m a delight.” I pulled my arm back slowly. “What about you? Are you okay with this?” I really looked at him. No shying away now. “They’ll come after you. All of you.”
He lifted one elegant shoulder. “I have lived long enough. If the rest of the Fold does not see reason, then I would happily forfeit my life for the humans to have a chance to start again.”
I stared at him in disbelief. He would really do that? I didn’t see him as the self-sacrificing type. He was more of the ‘do it my way or get thrown in the dungeon’ type. He’d showed me that more than once. There was also the tight feeling in my chest I got thinking about him lying dead on the ground, his head or heart missing. Just the image in my head made my eyes burn.
“What about Asher? And the others?” I asked, covering up my concern for him. “You would just let them die?”
“Would you?”
My mouth dropped open a little. “No! No. Of course, not. I expected they’d get away before this all went down.”
“And go where?” Patrick caressed the side of my face. The movement was so sudden I almost thought I’d dreamed it. Why was he touching me so much? And why did I like it?
“I don’t know.” I squirmed in place, not liking being asked questions I didn’t have the answers to. “There’s got to be more beyond Alban. You said there were other settlements like ours run by vampires. They could go there.”
“So, you have them uproot their lives and run away to someplace that might not even accept them? Or even exist anymore?” Patrick’s questions were sound, but they still pissed me off.
“What? You don’t keep in contact with the other vampires?” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Isn’t that against your ancient code or something?”
“Vampires are solitary creatures,” Patrick explained with a wave of his hand. “The fact that we have come together like this is unusual for us, which is why we have so many disagreements.” His lips twisted into a grimace as if thinking of something unpleasant. “Before the great war, we were either alone or possibly with a mate.” The way he looked at me when he said the word mate made my whole body warm.
“That’s interesting.” Even I marveled at the lameness of my comment. It was interesting? That was the best I could do.
As I chastised myself, Patrick had moved even closer to me, and then, like a magnetic pull, I shifted forward as well. There was barely an inch between us now. My heart rampaged in my chest even as I tried to figure out what was happening here.
“Why am I so drawn to you?” I blurted out as my hand landed on his chest. My fingers curled underneath my palm, clutching his shirt in my hand.
Patrick dipped his head so that his forehead pressed against mine. “I can only assume it’s because of the way you felt before I changed you.” His hands came up to cup my face, his face so close to mine now that I could feel his breath on my skin.
“The way I felt before? The only thing I felt before was revulsion.” I tried to make it sound insulting but couldn’t think clearly enough to put the bite I needed into it.
Patrick laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating through me. “Deny it all you want, Clarabelle, but our blood exchange cannot create the emotions, only enhance them. You cared for me before this, just as I have for you.”
My eyelids fluttered uncontrollably, and I forced them to stay open to glare at him. “I did not and do not care about you.”
A small, sad smile tinging his lips. “So, if I should perish during this rebellion of yours, you would not weep for me?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I quickly said, but they held no truth to them. And by the way Patrick chuckled once more, he knew it.
I want to say that when his lips brushed mine, I shoved him away, but my neck had a mind of its own. It arched so that I met him, his mouth soft against mine. At first, it was a gentle rubbing of our lips, neither of us in a hurry to move it further. I, of course, had no experience in the matter, except the one time Patrick had kissed me which had turned into him marking me for conversion. I began to pull away, the reminder of it damping my mood.
Patrick had other ideas.
Something soft and wet traced along the line of my lips, and it startled me enough that my mouth fell open, a small squeak coming out. Patrick’s hands on my face drew me toward him, his tongue taking my gaping mouth as an invitation. It was a peculiar feeling, having someone else’s tongue inside your mouth. Not a bad feeling but ... peculiar. Yep, that about described it.
Our bodies pressed together as I allowed him to explore my mouth. There was no biting this time, making it easier to give into the experience. For all my complaining and denying, I had to admit kissing him wasn’t horrible. It made my toes curl and my stomach tingle. The longer we kissed, the warmer I became until I felt as if I might explode.
I jerked away from him, breathing heavily. This time Patrick let me, his eyes hooded. His thumb trailed along my bottom lip, a look in his eyes that I couldn’t describe.
“Well,” I huffed and laughed at
the same time. “That was different.”
“Yes.” Patrick angled his head to the side. “It was.”
I stared up at him for a moment and then cleared my throat and stepped away, putting some distance between us. “Uh, I should probably get going.” I inched toward the doorway, my eyes on the floor.
“Clarabelle,” the sound of my name on Patrick’s lips did something funny to me. It made me want to kiss him once more. The feeling was so overwhelming my hands curled into fists to keep me in place.
“What?” I asked a bit harsher than I meant to.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
My brow furrowed as I searched his face. What had I forgotten?
“You wanted to know how many vampires there are,” Patrick reminded me with a smug grin on his lips. Ugh, how I wanted to smack it off and kiss it at the same time.
Get a grip, Clarabelle!
“Right,” I nodded.
Patrick seemed to be laughing at me but had the decency not to comment on it. “There are thirty-two vampires including you and me. Twelve of those are Crimson Fold members. Another dozen or so are family members of the Fold, like Asher, who have been converted. The rest are mates or companions who have been converted over the years.”
I nodded again, not trusting myself not to say something stupid. Turning back to the door, I made it to the stairwell before Patrick caught my wrist. I stared down at his hand before following it up to his face.
“Don’t you want to know?” The look on his face was no longer amusing but serious. Too bad I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Know what?”
He laced our fingers together and glanced down at the ground as he said, “If Marsha is one of the thirty-two.”
His comment slammed into me like I’d been hit by my father’s van. I’d been so wrapped up in Patrick and what I felt for him that I’d forgotten all about Marsha, someone I claimed to care for more than Patrick. I had a nagging feeling that might not be the case anymore.
“I assumed he was one already.” I tried to cover up my mistake but for some reason didn’t take my hand back.
Patrick peeked back up from our joined hands to my face. “No, he’s not. Tris has decided to wait on converting him.”
“Why?” I blurted out before I could think about it. “Not that I’m not happy for him, but why? Why wait?”
Sighing, Patrick brought my hand up between us. “I’d imagine because of you.” He pressed his lips against the side of my hand, and for a moment, my mind went blank.
I shook my head and my hand free of his mesmerizing touch. “I don’t know why. He doesn’t remember me. So, what’s the point?”
“But you remember him and, if you forget, were quite adamant during your trial.” He seemed a bit put out about it, and I felt like I should apologize for some reason. “Now that you’ve done a disappearing act, she will probably be using him as collateral or maybe even bait to get you to cooperate.”
I snorted. “Fat chance of that happening.”
Patrick clasped his hands in front of him and shrugged. “She doesn’t know that, so he will remain human for now. Though, if I were you, I wouldn’t wait too much longer to start your revolution if you wish to keep it that way.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Understood.”
We moved down the stairs, neither of us speaking until we reached the bottom floor. Automatically, I searched the hallway for Missy’s body and found it gone. I wanted to ask him what he’d done with it but thought it better for my own sanity not to ask.
“Are you going back to the Glade?” Patrick asked, waiting in the doorway for me.
“Yes. I was going to go to the Core, but since you answered all I needed to know, it’s time for me to, as you said, ‘Start a revolution.’” I ended my words with a sardonic smile.
Patrick returned my smile with one of his own and then added, “Then I would show you a quicker way back.”
“A quicker way?” I asked as he led me out of my old house and toward a section of artificial trees just north of the marketplace.
He moved quickly and quietly, something I still needed to learn how to do, before stopping. There on the ground, barely visible beneath the brush, was a metal door. Pulling it open, it didn’t so much as creak. Beneath it was a set of stairs that descended into dark nothingness.
“This tunnel goes underneath Alban. When you come to the junction, go left to go toward the Glade and right to go to the Core.” Patrick explained in a robotic tone. So much for our moment.
I stepped toward the entrance and glanced back at him. “Thanks.”
“You’re most welcome.” He didn’t smile this time or show any emotion at all. For some reason, that bothered me even more than his usual overly charming self. As I descended into the tunnel, Patrick’s face haunted me, and I answered the question he had asked me truthfully.
Yes, I’d miss him if he died. More than I could measure.
Chapter 10
Patrick’s instructions had been dead on, and the tunnel hadn’t been as dark as I thought it had been. Super senses to the rescue.
When I found the end of the tunnel, I was relieved to see it came out in the Glade, surprisingly, well, not really, next to the graveyard. Probably didn’t think too many people would come looking around here.
The sky had lightened, the red and yellow colors signaling sunrise. I’d been gone all night. Thankfully, my stomach was full because the Glade was in full swing. The life of a farmer at its best.
Instead of heading for my shack, I went straight to my father’s house. As I walked by, the workers’ heads popped up. At first, confusion colored their faces, then surprise. Eventually, there were whispers. Not to me though. I could hear them clear as day, I just chose to ignore them.
Let them say what they wanted. This wasn’t about me anymore.
I stomped up the stairs of our porch, one of the only houses with one. A benefit of being the overseers, one of the only ones. I didn’t bother to knock, I shoved the door open.
It wasn’t surprising to see him sitting at our table with the others who helped run the Glade. They always had a meeting at dawn. No one wanted to spend all night arguing over issues, not that I would want to this early either.
When I busted in, all five heads - including my father’s - jerked up. Their expressions matched that of the villagers outside, a mixture of surprise and confusion. Except for my father. Well, he was surprised but not for the same reasons as them.
“Clarabelle!” My father stood up, glancing at the other leaders, who turned to him for an explanation. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
Stepping further into the room, I closed the door behind me. “I found out what I needed to.”
I looked at the other four, one for each part of the Glade. I didn’t know any of them, not personally. I’d seen them here in our home every day until we moved to the Inner Circle. They watched me grow up. I was hoping those factors would help them not freak out about what I was about to tell them.
“Hello.” I gave a slight wave. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting but as you can see I’m not exactly supposed to be here.” I smiled awkwardly.
Mara, an older woman with a kind face who had always made sure to check on me after my mother passed, was the first to come forward. “Clara.” Her soft voice caused a nostalgia to fill me. “It’s good to see you.” She hugged me tightly, and I froze.
I could hear her blood pumping through her veins. Even though I’d already eaten, my fangs ached. I forced myself to hug her back before getting away from her. Thankfully, no one else tried to hug me. I didn’t think I could handle it.
“Not that it’s not good to see you,” Dale, a balding man who oversaw the herders, said, “but where are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be up there?” He pointed in the direction of the Core. “You know being married and such.”
I nodded. “Yes, I probably should be.” I turned from him and met my father’s worrie
d gaze. “Except I can’t. During my time in the Core, I’ve learned about some disturbing things, especially about our esteemed leaders.”
They shifted uncomfortably and murmured to themselves, but I didn’t stop to let them dismiss me. Moving closer, I stayed at one end of the table, my fingers splayed out on the wooden surface.
“Some of you might not remember how Alban came to be.” I glanced around the table as I spoke, taking in their expressions. “Some of you probably have a watered-down version of it like my father, but I’m here to tell you that everything you know, everything you think you knew about our leaders, is a lie.”
This time they didn’t keep their voices down when they spoke their doubt. I kept my eyes on my father, watching him for some kind of warning, but he only nodded his head. This was the time. It was now or never.
Not surprisingly, Dale was the first to speak out. “I don’t mean to be rude, but don’t you think you are being a bit dramatic? You’re only seventeen. You’re too young to understand the way the world works.” He looked around the table and chuckled, causing the others except my father and Mara to laugh too. “Maybe you should be asking your husband about this.”
The mention of Patrick and that I was too young, too naive to know what I was talking about pissed me off beyond measure. In my mind, I grabbed Dale by the throat and ripped his spine out from his flesh. In reality, I took a deep breath and stared hard at the table.
“Dale,” I started, happy that my voice didn’t shake with my anger. “Not to be rude,” I parroted his condescending words back at him, “but you don’t know what the hell you are talking about.” Dale tried to argue with me, but I didn’t give him a chance. “We sit out here so far from the Core that we don’t know what is really going on in our world.”
My eyes snapped to Mara. “For example, did you know there are other settlements like ours? Set up exactly like this. Farmers on the outside, industrial workers in the middle, and the privileged, the soft hands, closest to the leaders.” I spat the word as it curdled in my mouth. “Have you ever wondered why that is? Why we barely get by while they get fed until their clothes hardly fit?” They were quiet as if really thinking about what I was saying. My impatience made me ask again, “Well, have you?”
