Shaking his head, Sylas stands. “Not that I know of. The only reason I came up here was to check on you.”
I stare at the dark, empty hall. “So it’s only him… that doesn’t make any sense.”
Sylas glances over his shoulder to the hallway. “He seemed to be looking for you.”
“Yeah, but again, why? I mean, after I left The Gathering, he should have forgotten about me. And he didn’t act like he knew who I was.” I pause. “And how did he even get in here?”
Sylas’ thinking face forms, his eyebrows dipping as he nibbles at his bottom lip. “He must have followed us in here.”
“But I would have noticed—I would have heard his heart.” But I can’t hear his heart now. “Did you really kill him? Or is he just missing a heartbeat.”
Sylas folds his arms and taps his lips. “I don’t think I killed him. In fact, I’m about ninety percent sure I didn’t.” He takes note of Tristan’s pale state and the blood streaming down his neck. “Well, maybe eighty percent.”
I rub my temples. “How do we know for sure if he’s alive or not?”
Sylas looms over him and inhales. “He’s good.”
“Are you one-hundred percent sure this time?”
He presses back a smirk. “Maybe ninety-nine.”
“What do we do with him?” I search the dark room for a solution and come to a stop by the window. The streets are smothered with night and the fires flame in front of the buildings. The Highers were out tonight and then Tristan shows up—it can’t be just a coincidence.
“We could chain him to a wall,” Sylas suggests, resting his arms on the windowsill and peering down at the sparkling city. “That always seems to work.”
I frown, remembering the multiple times I’ve been chained to the wall. “I don’t know...”
“What’s a matter, Kayla?” Sylas teases and nudges me with his shoulder. “Do you feel sorry for him?”
I take in Tristan’s features, his cropped blonde hair, and the blue eyes that are hidden below his eyelids. “I’m not sure what I feel for him—I never have.”
“Then I’ll make the decision for you.” Sylas picks up Tristan and throws him over his shoulder with intentional roughness. Tristan’s head thumps heavily against Sylas’ shoulder.
“Are you sure you don’t remember him from The Colony?” I ask suspiciously.
Sylas’ dark eyes linger on me. “I left The Colony a few years ago, and can barely remember anyone. Why does it matter anyway?”
“Because, if you knew him, you’d know he’s not a bad person,” I explain and Sylas raises his eyebrows, his gaze settling on my cheek. My fingers trace the tender spot where Tristan slapped me. “Well, he used to be a nice person… a little brainwashed, but nice enough.”
“And you used to be inhumanly strong, but now look at you.”
I tip my head at Tristan’s upside down face. “Yeah, but Tristan was so… ”
“So what?” Sylas shifts Tristan’s weight. “Perfect, right? Just like every other Colony member. So here’s a thought to sit on. What defines perfect? If everyone’s the same then how can someone be considered perfect when there's no imperfection to compare them to?"
“That’s deep,” I say. “Did you come up with on your own? Or are you basing it on a memory you won’t share with me?”
“You already knew the Highers seek perfection. You’ve lived in The Colony. But that little knowledge I came up with all on my own.”
I sweep my bangs out of my face. “Sylas, I think Tristan was going to bite me. Does that mean he’s a Day Taker?”
Sylas shakes his head and glances at Tristan. “He doesn’t feel the same as a Day Taker, but I don’t think he’s human either, so we better get him chained up.”
We leave the room. Unexpectedly, Sylas heads for the roof. He weaves up the staircase and pushes out the steel door.
Ash rains down from the sky and I shield my eyes. “You’re locking him up on the roof?”
“It’s as good as place as any.” He drops Tristan on the ground and disappears around a domed skylight where he drags out a set of heavy chains. “Besides, it’s harder for anyone to hear him screaming from all the way up here.”
“You’re not going to torture him, Sylas.” I stand between the two of them. “I won’t let you.”
“I’m not going to torture him.” He pushes me aside and winds the chains around Tristan’s wrists. “As long as he cooperates. But I don’t want the others knowing he’s here.” He clips the chains together with a solid lock and the chains draw together, pinning Tristan’s arms tight. “You should know better than anyone that they don’t welcome strangers.”
I stare him down, desperate to feel if he’s lying. Sylas is the exception to my gift; he’s a rock hard barrier that’s difficult to penetrate.
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Kayla,” Sylas dusts the dirt from his hands. “I don’t lie. That’s my brother’s thing.”
My heart races as I think of Aiden and his death. “How long do you think Tristan will be out?”
“Depends on if he’s human or not, I guess,” Sylas says with a half-hearted shrug. “If he’s not human, he should be up soon.” A shadow masks his face. “Seeing how he’d be stronger.”
“Stronger than what?” Tristan’s weary voice startles us.
Instinctively, we reel. Sylas steps in front of me, blocking me from Tristan’s reach. It’s an overly protective gesture that perplexes me to no end. Just when I think I’ve gotten him figured out, he does something that completely contradicts his normal character. But being me, I sidestep him to fully see Tristan. I’m not afraid of him, but I don’t think I’ll be running up and giving him a hug either.
Sylas’ eyes flash with annoyance and the desire to devour. “You tell us.” He crouches down in Tristan’s face. “Why are you here? And what are you?”
Tristan glances at me helplessly. “I don’t know. I-I can’t remember.”
“Nice try.” Sylas snaps out his teeth, which are sharp enough to kill a human if used the right way. “Now, I’m only going to ask you one more time. Why are you here? And what are you?”
Tristan’s blue eyes bulge wide and he clumsily scoots back, lagging the chains, and presses his back against the skylight. “What are you? Some kind of vampire?”
Sylas crawls on his hands and knees toward Tristan, his teeth pointing out and beaming in the glow the fires cast across the night sky. It’s his predator state and I know from experience that if pushed hard enough, he will lose control.
“You’re not in any state to ask questions,” Sylas growls. “Only answer them.”
Tears flood Tristan’s cheeks. “I don’t know what to do.”
Deciding to intervene, I move between them and bend down to Tristan’s eyelevel. “You don’t remember me at all?” I ask. “You used to know me—I used to live at The Colony. My name’s Kayla.”
“Kayla… from The Colony.” He tries to recollect, but his eyes are uncomprehending. “What’s your last name?”
“I don’t have one,” I say. “But some people call me Juniper.”
He shakes his head and sobs. “I don’t know you. Please, just let me go.”
I sigh and tug Sylas toward the door. “I think we might need Emmy’s help with this.”
He grins wickedly and rubs his hands together. “I love it when you’re ruthless.”
“I’m not ruthless,” I protest. “I just want answers, especially if he came here looking for me.”
“Yeah, but why not suggest the minte?” His grin broadens. He moves his lips to my ear, his broad chest pushing against my shoulder. “Face it Kayla, you’re just as cold-hearted as the rest of us.”
I don’t deny it. “Just go get Emmy.”
Sylas shrugs and ducks through the door. Once he’s gone, I turn to Tristan. He looks the same on the outside, but on the inside there’s emptiness. Was this what I looked like right after The Gathering? Is this what I look like now?
“Y
ou’re not one of them,” he says, eyeing me over. “You’re different.”
“I’m not one of who?” I try to break through whatever it is he’s hiding.
“Those things in there.” He nods his head at the roof door. “Those half-breeds.”
“You know about the half-breeds?” In a few strides, I close the gap between us. But I still keep enough space that the chains won’t allow him to reach me.
His heart is as still as a statue. “They’re abominations, you know. They’re not supposed to exist.” He pauses, his dark gaze making me squirm. “Like you. You were supposed to be dead.”
“And what are you?” I challenge. “What did the Highers do to you when I left? Did they… Did Monarch turn you into something?”
His blue eyes darken and blend in with the night. He skulks, lazy movements, towing the chains with him. “I’m what they need me to be for the time being. I’m the one they sent to kill you. After they found out you were alive, they had to find a way for you to die.” His voice lowers. “You shouldn’t have been out in the streets. Monarch taught you to be better than that.”
My jaw falls and everything moves quickly, rushes of images that are barely comprehendible. Tristan lunges for me, a loud snap, and then his hands are around my neck.
“Tristan,” I choke, shoving my hands against his chest. “Stop it!”
He only squeezes tighter. “You have to die, Kayla. You just have to.”
“The world’s life is in your hands,” Monarch’s voice whispers in my head. “You can’t die! Fight!”
Staring into Tristan’s eyes is like looking into a Highers’ eyes. Slanting my head back, I suck a small breath through my nose and thrust my head into Tristan’s face. The sound of the impact is like bricks being smashed against a wall. His eyes roll back into his head and his hands slip from my neck.
Spots tickle my vision and I stagger from left to right. Tristan collapses to the ground, moaning in agony. My legs tremble to fall, the sky spins with such force that the smoke dances and twirls, and my head sings a tune. I fall for the concrete floor, but hands brace me.
“Your head’s not a weapon.” Sylas peers down at me. “Next time use something else on him.”
“Great advice.” I clutch my head, blinking wildly as I regain my balance and wiggle from Sylas. “But it was all I could think of at the moment.”
Tristan fights to get up, huffing and puffing, his face red. “What… happened? Why am I here? Who are you?”
“He’s insane.” Sylas nods his head at him. “Emmy, you might as well get it over with. He’s getting on my nerves.”
Emmy stalks from the shadows of the doorway. Her hair blows in the wind, her boots scuff the ground, and her gaze locks on Tristan as if he’s a delicious treat. She whisks like a phantom, as if she’s flying. Her arms soar up and her fingers pierce against Tristan’s temples. It’s like watching someone die, only the mind still thrives, and Tristan’s body becomes immobile.
With her fingers remaining on his head, Emmy lowers Tristan to the concrete and works to summon his erased memories.
“How do we get him to confess what he knows even after she extracts the memories?” I ask, watching Emmy press her fingers farther into Tristan’s skin. “And what if Emmy kills him in the process?”
“Wow.” Sylas’ eyes twinkle with specks of amber. “You’re starting to sound as cruel as me.”
“I never said it was okay to kill him.” I move to the edge of the rooftop. The land below is buried with ashes. Vampires roam the streets, scavenging for blood and human flesh. There is no humanity left in the hungry monsters as they hunt for their next kill. But how much different are we? Standing up here, letting Emmy endanger Tristan’s life on the whim she’ll discover the secrets of The Colony?
“You feel too much.” Sylas props his foot up on the ledge of the roof. “You’re going to have to turn it off, or else it’s going to get the best of you.”
“Is that what you do?” I meet his eyes, my hair dusting my cheeks as the wind howls. “Do you turn it off Sylas? Is your uncaring behavior just an act?”
His eyes never waver and his eyebrows rise with a dare. “You tell me. After all, you do know me better than anyone. At least you used to.”
His gaze makes me nervous, like it always does whenever he sneaks into my emotions. From behind us, Tristan moans and Emmy snarls, but I don’t let my eyes cower from Sylas. The longer I focus on him, the less unsettled my body feels. I feel a newfound surge of energy, one that wants answers, one that knows I’m about to cross a dangerous line. In a quick shooting motion, I grab onto Sylas’ arm. I grip tightly, digging my nails into his skin. He’s surprised, eyes’ blinking wildly, like no one has ever touched him without permission. For one brief second, his guard and control crumbles. A window opens, revealing a small insight into his soul. He’s always afraid… always afraid of failing, of letting people in, of being human, yet at the same time, he fears he’s lost all of his humanity.
“An act,” I declare boldly.
His eyes flare and his lips curl, allowing his teeth to dangerously glint in the night. I worry he might shove me off the roof and let me fall to my death. And maybe he would have, if Tristan hadn’t beaten him to the punch.
As the blow of Emmy’s scream slams against my eardrums, Tristan’s body crashes into mine. Our bodies tangle as we fly airborne, off the roof, and plummet to the ground toward my death. I shut my eyes. But I feel something sparkle against my head and my eyelids whip open to Tristan’s smile. He has one hand on my hand and the other on my hip.
“Don’t forget me,” he says and the sparkles in my head ignite. I feel everything he’s ever felt. It’s the most powerful thing and I’ll never be able to forget it. His pain, fear, and worry. Then he releases me, only a few feet from the ground.
Death. What is it like?
Buildings rush my vision and hands grasp my waist. It happens so quickly it takes my mind a few delayed seconds to catch up with reality. Sylas catches me and somehow maneuvers his body between me and the road. I feel like I’ve been knocked by a vampire, but I’m not dead.
“Are you okay?” Sylas asks, his body concaved into the asphalt. For a fleeting moment he looks human, his emotions raw in his expression.
I nod slowly, my head heavy and full of Tristan’s lingering emotions; love, pain, death. “Are you okay?”
His humanity promptly fades. “I’m not the one who’s a fragile human, am I?”
I shove off him and dust the ash off my hands, glancing around the street frantically. “Where’s Tristan?”
Sylas pushes to his feet and rubs his jawline. “Huh? I thought the fall would have killed him, but it seems he’s vanished into thin air.”
I peer down a dark alleyway. “That’s not a good thing Sylas. He wanted to kill me—someone sent him to kill me.” I turn to him. “Didn’t you see where… ” My eyes widen.
He follows my gaze, past his shoulder, to what’s behind him. Vampires. At least a half a dozen and all of them ready to eat.
“Well, crap.” He backs into me, the muscles in his neck tensing. “This is bad.”
Capturing the sleeve of his shirt, I guide him toward the alley. A swarm of fleshless vampires arise from behind barrels, eyes bleeding, lips drooling—a smell that is foul enough to heighten my gag reflex. They sniff the air and pick up my scent, forcing them to draw back. Then they inch forward as they detect Sylas. They’re confused. The rabid beasts despise me, but Sylas is like a mouthwatering treat.
“Kayla,” Sylas says as he takes in the fact that we’re surrounded. “Now’s probably the time to start kicking ass.”
“There’s too many of them.” I gape, turning in a small circle. “I can’t even take on one yet.”
“Well, you’re going to have to try.” He backs up. “One bite and I’m dead.”
“No, you’re infected,” I clarify with a frown. “Not dead.”
A vampire shrieks and the others follow in unison, like a c
horus of death.
“Same thing.” He spins on his heels and takes me by the shoulders. “Because if I get bit you’ll have to kill me. I won’t become one of them.”
I don’t bother mentioning that he is partially one already. “Fine, but you owe me for this.”
“I owe no one. Ever.”
“You do now.”
He scowls. “Just get me far away from here. We can’t go back to the hideout, not after that boy showed up looking for you.”
One vampire ventures in on us. I move to drop kick it in the face but trip over my feet. “What about the others?” I skitter sideways. “You’re just going to leave them there?”
“They can fend for themselves,” he says, acting tough, but a faint flicker of guilt shimmers from inside him. “It’s what they were built for.”
It starts with a hard shove from a vampire towering in the back. The bodies of the blood-thirsty beasts ripple forward and pile the ground, some falling, some diving for Sylas.
“Now would be the time to run.” I knock my arm into the back of one’s head and my elbow pops. Blood squirts out of an open wound on the vampire and I jump out of the way to avoid being infected.
“Are you sure—” Sylas starts, hesitating.
“Just go,” I cut him off as a vampire clicks its teeth as Sylas. “I can handle this.”
A lie. But that’s what I’m good at.
There is no more hesitation. Sylas is much faster than me and if we try to run together, I’ll only hold him back. He knows it. I know it. The best thing for him to do is bail. Once he’s gone, the vampires won’t want anything to do with me.
He pierces me with a look bursting with heat and my blood scorches like liquid fire.
“Hurry.” He winks and then he’s gone, launching himself over the thinner area of the crowd and into the street. Some chase after him, but Sylas can outrun them, so I’m not too worried.
Once he disappears, I relax, knowing the remaining vampires are going to flee. They loiter, blinking as the blood from their eyes subsides. I wish I had my knife so I could at least try and take one out. Especially the one farthest to my left who won’t seem to take it’s gaze off me. It pants loudly, eyes refusing to stop bleeding. Concerned that it might be defective, I inch to the right, trying to herd an escape route. But none of them will budge. They pant louder and their eyes rain red. Blood splatters against the pavement and rivers for my feet. I think of my dream. Aiden and I as kids, walking toward each other on a blood-stained street piled with famished vampires.
Darkness Breaks (Darkness Falls Series, Book 2) Page 3
