by Liz Meldon
She blinked slowly, tiredly, her body yearning to crawl into Claude’s huge bed and sleep away her sorrows. But while physically she was on the decline, mentally she was as alert as one could be in a situation like this. Once they’d returned from Harriswood, Claude pulled Elov from the gala to tend to Arthur’s injuries. While her friend hadn’t looked thrilled to be carted off by a vamp, both she and Claude had assured him of his safety. From there, Claude led her up to his room, closed the door, and sat her down in one of the hard-backed armchairs. He’d taken off her shoes, gently, careful of her aches and pains, before telling her everything.
Everything he had kept from her. The clan betrayals. The move for mass human subjugation—coupled with human alliances. The partnership between Warwick, the lesser clans, and the League.
It was a lot to take in. Delia was sure she’d need a few days to wrap her head around it. Even if she wasn’t a key player at the League, she’d always thought she had some idea of how things worked in Harriswood—she thought she knew what purpose her organization served, if anything. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
Not once did it occur to her to be upset with him for keeping secrets. Delia had kept a number of things from him since they started seeing each other, if only to spare his feelings. It was quite clear to her rational mind, which was getting ganged up on by wild fantasies and wayward schemes, that Claude had withheld the truth to keep her safe. Not for one second did she believe he had anything but her best interest at heart. He was a vampire king, a man responsible for the lives of everyone in his clan and all those opposed to this new vampire-run order. Delia didn’t blame him for his absence. He had a crisis to manage.
But she was pleased that he’d told her everything now. Not because the knowledge set her mind at ease, but because there was a simple comfort in being on the same page as one’s partner. It would have been kind to return the favor, but her little reports for the High Council seemed silly now—inconsequential. All those reports, digital and not, were burning in the basement of the Harriswood Library, never to be seen again.
Like Devin and Ali and Kain and…
Everyone.
Like everyone.
“I made sure to get my clan to safety,” he told her, starting to pace. He’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, jacket cast aside, his hair mussed from the winter wind. “Tonight was a farewell party. I am sorry that you came here under false pretenses, but I did plan to tell you everything tomorrow.”
“I get it,” she said quietly, her hands in her lap. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“You say that, yet I feel profoundly responsible for everything here.” Suddenly, Claude knocked a row of books off a nearby shelf. They fell noisily to the ground, spines bent and pages folded. “I am responsible for everything that has happened. It was my responsibility to control these leaders, and I’ve failed.”
Delia watched him, wishing she could pull him into her arms and stroke his head. To her, Claude Grimm was the perfect man, but it would do no good to voice her opinion. Her knowledge of inter-clan relationships was spotty and based on League intel. Hell, up until this year, she, like most, had been under the illusion that a murderous vampire named Claudia ran the show. What could she possibly say about any of this that would make him feel better?
“Shortly I’ll be moving the entirety of my clan back to Switzerland. Warwick gave me a week to decide my allegiance, and our disappearance will be my answer. Now that he’s dispensed with the League, I have no doubt he will come for the Grimm clan next.” His words made her straighten in her seat, her brow furrowing. “As far as I know, this virus has only infected North American clans. My people will be safe in Europe.”
“W-what?” His words hit her like sludge, like feet sinking into thick mud. Delia raised her gaze to him, hating that it took her so long to process this. “You’re leaving?”
Claude exhaled softly, then knelt before her and gathered her hands in his. “After I’d told you everything tomorrow, I planned to ask you to come with me. You should, Delia. It’s my understanding that clans across the nation have united in this foolhardy endeavor. It’s dangerous to stay behind. Dangerous to be a hunter, even if you have grown cold to the profession.”
“But…” What about Harriswood? What about the people in it? Was he just going to leave all of them in the hands of the other clans?
“Delia, come with me.” He stroked his thumbs over her skin, his touch warm and soothing. “I’m sure this will pass. All foolish revolutions do. Until it does, I can keep you safe with me. Bring your accountant friend if you wish. I’ve made arrangements with an old companion for temporary sanctuary. It’s open to you as well.”
“So you want me to…pack a bag and go?” It’d be so easy. Take an extended vacation while her home, her country, fell in and out of vamp rule—while thousands might die. Claude drew a breath, his expression full of hope, but she shook her head. “I know about vamps. How can I leave all these innocent people to die when I can do something about it?”
“Delia, this isn’t a war for you to fight alone.”
“I’ll find others. You could help me to—”
“I have an entire clan depending on me,” he reasoned, his tone gentle and calm and so damn comforting. “There are military forces that I have no doubt will combat this plague. Johnathon Warwick thinks his reach is farther than it is. Come with me. Ride it out elsewhere.”
“It’d be wrong,” Delia said, ignoring the way her heart screamed for her to stop, to give in and go with him. “I can help people here. There are no…” She closed her eyes, momentarily overwhelmed. Claude caught the tear that fell when she opened them again, his hopeful expression quashed. “The hunters were eliminated in a single night. There’s me… Maybe there are more of our outpost agents, but we need to do something. I can’t run away.”
“Delia—”
“I know I’m not the best hunter out there,” she continued forcefully, sniffling, “but I have some knowledge. I have stakes I can give. I know what the hell is actually happening thanks to you. I… I have to try to help. It w-wouldn’t be right to just let people die.”
“They’re going to die anyway.” She tried to pull her hands from his, but Claude held tight, seeking out her eyes. “Please. I can’t stand the thought of you staying behind. This country will fall to darkness for a time. I know it. They are so determined to see their vision come to fruition.”
This time he let her hands go when she pulled back, but they stayed on her lap, limp, her fingers close enough to his to feel the heat of his skin.
Of course she wanted to go with him. Delia wasn’t one to play the hero. If anything, she was the one to freeze and let someone better swoop in to save the day. Beyond her vamp-killing spree at the grocery store, which she chalked up to a combination of surprise and luck, she had limited credentials to back up such a stupid mission.
But that didn’t matter. People didn’t deserve to die because she was scared. She had a responsibility to get the word out. She had a brief stint of news fame with the grocery mishap—maybe she could use that to her advantage.
She had to try.
“I don’t blame you for going,” she whispered, then pressed her lips together when they quivered. A steady hand reached out for Claude, cupping his cheek lightly. “You have a lot of people to take care of. You should do that.”
He kissed her palm, the words that followed murmured against it, so soft that she had to strain to hear. “This is my fault. I owe it to my clan to protect them from the mess I’ve created.”
Unable to find the words again, Delia gently coaxed him forward until his head settled on her lap. Finally, she was able to stroke him like she’d wanted, but it brought neither any comfort. Instead, beneath the weight of his head on her thighs, Delia felt her heart breaking.
This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. She’d bought sexy stockings to show off for him. Delia had planned to pick his brain about her career, but only after they’d h
ad their fun together.
Why couldn’t that have happened instead?
When she was on the brink of tears again, Claude sat up and pulled her to him, lips claiming hers before she could protest. They stayed like that for some time, Claude on his knees and Delia at the edge of the chair, holding one another, kissing one another, wishing that things were different for the other. When they broke apart, they lingered, foreheads pressed together. Her gaze raked across his face as she tried to commit every feature to memory, from the blueness of his eyes to the square line of his jaw to the rise of his cheekbones.
“Come with me,” he whispered. “Please, Delia.”
“I want to,” she told him, her voice breaking. “Honestly, there’s nothing I want more right now, but…”
But she couldn’t. She had to stay and fight. Years ago, she’d entered this secret world because she wanted to keep people safe. Even if this League hadn’t worked out for her, Delia still felt in her heart that that was her purpose in life. To help people. To protect them. Somehow. Even if she could keep one family from feeling the overwhelming loss that she felt tonight, she would have done her duty.
If only letting him go was easier.
“I can ask those staying behind to watch out for you—”
“If they’re staying behind, they aren’t exactly on my side,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “Don’t. Get your people out of here. I-I’ll need to find my people, whatever’s left of them, and see what we’re going to do.”
See what they could do. There was no telling how many clans were involved in this mess. How many vamps were likeminded in their thinking that humans ought to be relegated to second-class citizens?
“When things are settled on my end,” Claude said fiercely, cradling her face in his hands, “I will come back for you. I will find you and I will do what I can to protect you.”
She blinked slowly, the closing of her eyes forcing her tears out, and offered the best smile she could manage. “Thank you.”
But Delia had no expectations that he’d return. If things were about to get sucked into a churning black hole of awful, she couldn’t put that kind of demand on him. Claude needed to stay safe too. Warwick and the others had already proven what their manipulations could do to those who stood against them, powerful vampire or not.
“It pains me to say,” Claude muttered tersely, “but you should leave tonight. There’s no telling who saw us downtown, and if you wait and leave when I take the others, you may become a target.”
Numbly, she nodded. This was happening. It was actually happening. As she drew a breath to tell him that his affection these last few months meant more to her than he’d ever know, the bedroom door opened slowly, and Arthur tentatively poked his head in, face covered in bandages.
“Come in,” Claude said wearily, gesturing for her friend to enter. As he did, Delia stood and smoothed her hands down her dress, then pressed a hand to Claude’s shoulder and squeezed. When he looked up, she tried and failed to smile.
“Are all those people downstairs…vampires?” Arthur asked as she moved toward him, grabbing her heels on the way.
“Most,” she told him. “Don’t worry. We won’t be here long.”
His thick eyebrows creased. “What? Shouldn’t we stay the night?”
“Anyone could have identified us,” Delia said, her throat tight as she brushed her hands under her eyes. “One of the Warwick boys waved at me as we were going.” Behind her, she heard Claude exhale noisily. A quick glance back was all she needed to read his fury. “We need to leave tonight. Now, I guess. See who is alive, if anyone else didn’t go to HQ tonight.”
It didn’t take much to convince Arthur. Somehow it seemed he’d rather be out there in the world than in a house full of vamps—but Delia knew that the reality of the situation, once she shared it, would change his mind.
“Take one of my cars,” Claude insisted as they headed for the door, once again her feet slow and heavy, laden with unseen mountains of lead. She shook her head.
“I couldn’t—”
“Delia,” he said sharply, causing even Arthur to flinch. Claude paused and drew in a breath. “Take one of the cars. It’s the least I can give you.”
Another numb nod. What else was there to say? She and Arthur had no transportation otherwise and the thought of braving winter’s biting edge on foot made her want to lay face-first on the floor and not ever get up.
As the trio moved through the Grimm manor, with its boughs of holly hanging in doorways and strings of garland hugging the bannisters, Delia felt like she was in a dream. Maybe if she pinched herself hard enough, she’d come jolting back to life in her bedroom, coated in sweat and her chest heaving.
But the here and now was all too real.
Claude stopped them by the front door, telling them he’d be a moment to get the keys. As Delia watched him go, wondering what it would feel like in a few minutes when he actually walked away from her, the sounds of the gala crept down from the great hall—the music, the laughter. There were so many people in there. So many people who now depended on Claude to spirit them away from this mess.
Would the humans go with their vamps? Were they invited into Claude’s Swiss sanctuary too? Swallowing hard, Delia faced the front door with her arms crossed, the tight pinch of her pleather jacket bothering her more than it should. Out of the corner of her eye, Arthur seemed in a world of his own too. She reached for his arm with a sigh, gripping when he jumped at the contact.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
He blinked at her slowly, then looked down. “Everything hurts.”
“Yeah…” Delia retracted her hand. “Same.”
She wasn’t sure how long Claude was gone for, but minutes felt like hours as they waited for him. When he eventually returned to her side, he stuffed a car key with a fat grey remote dangling off the little metal ring into her hand, then handed what looked like a pile of coats to Arthur.
“Take this too,” he insisted as her hand closed around the key tightly. It took her a few seconds to realize what he was handing her—a black credit card. Delia frowned, but took it with shaky fingers. “Buy what you need. I don’t care what it costs you. Do it fast, before things…disintegrate.”
“Okay.”
Before she knew it, they were all moving out the front door and onto the porch, with Claude telling Arthur where they could find the minivan.
“It’s inconspicuous,” he insisted, his hand on Delia’s lower back, “and it gets surprisingly good gas mileage. Good for holding supplies or passengers.”
“Thank you,” Arthur said, stumbling a little as he stepped off the porch. “Really. This is good of you.”
“I’d do more if you would both…” Claude trailed off with a sigh. Delia couldn’t hear him ask her to come with him again. She just couldn’t. Her mind had been made up since she saw the burning library, but that didn’t mean her resolve was strong. It was weak, frankly. Ready to snap at any moment.
So Delia eased away from him because she had to. Gravel crunched under her heels as she marched off the porch, crossing toward the garage with Arthur by her side.
God, she was so weak.
Delia made it halfway across the driveway before she turned and awkwardly jogged back to Claude, the little bits of rock catching her heels with every step. Claude met her in the middle, sweeping her into his arms. She buried her face against him and breathed him in one last time. This patient, wonderful, loving man. This vampire who had proved her stereotypes wrong, who showed her there was a different world simmering below the League’s polished surface level. This lover who had taught her to fight, to believe that she was capable and strong.
How was she supposed to do this without him?
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured in her ear, and Delia hugged him tighter.
“It isn’t your fault.” Even if he felt like it was, Delia couldn’t—wouldn’t—blame him for what happened to her friends tonight, nor would
she for whatever the future held.
“I will come back for you,” Claude whispered. “I promise.”
She closed her eyes. “I know. I’ll be here.”
“You’d better be, huntress.”
They held one another in an embrace neither seemed inclined to break. But eventually she did, as the cold seeped into her marrow and the feeling started to fade in her fingertips. Clasping Claude’s face, Delia kissed him, just a quick peck, and then another, and another, and another, until she had to push herself off his chest to get away.
“I know you can survive this,” Claude told her as they stood a few feet apart, her fingers itching to thread around his. In turn, he reached out for her, but then quickly dropped his arm to his side. This was it. The end of things. Delia tried to swallow the painful lump in her throat with no success.
“Look after your people,” she said, rubbing her arms to conserve heat, “and then get your ass back here.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “You have my word.”
Drawing in a deep breath, the cold air cutting through her lungs and burning her throat, Delia nodded and forced herself to join Arthur across the circular gravel driveway. But when she was beside him again, her legs threatened to give out entirely, and her friend had to hold her up with an arm around her shoulders.
After locating the minivan inside the garage, she handed the keys over to Arthur, in no state to drive anything. He made a face but said nothing as he headed for the driver’s side, Delia for the passenger’s. She cranked the heat once he got the engine going, and they drove out of the huge hangar with a bit of jostling over the uneven ground.
