When Benjamin didn’t return his smile, Tzadkiel’s brow tightened. “What is it?”
Twin spots of color bloomed across Benjamin’s cheeks as if he were ashamed of his own thoughts, perceiving in them a weakness.
“I’m sorry about your fangs,” he said.
“Our injuries are part of us—our experience together.” Gentle fingers traced messy contours under Benjamin’s glasses. “I would save you having had the pain, but not the unshakable connection it forged between us.”
“You’d go through all the things my family put you through all over again?” Benjamin’s attention remained unwavering.
Tzadkiel traced his face with tender care. “Every minute.”
“I don’t care about my eyes, I want healing more for you than for myself.” Benjamin jingled the chain around Tzadkiel’s neck for emphasis, indicating his fangs.
Gaze dropping to the points of bone that had once been a part of everything he considered himself to be, Tzadkiel fingered the chain. After a moment, he took it from around his neck. Still warm from his skin, it slid through his fingers as he placed it over Benjamin’s head.
Benjamin’s mouth formed a surprised O. “What are you doing?”
“Giving to you of myself.”
Benjamin lifted the chain, the crease along his brow painting him bewildered. “I don’t understand.”
In answer, Tzadkiel slipped Benjamin’s glasses off and placed them on his own face. “There. Now we are even. I have an emblem of your strength and you of mine.”
“Being fangless is a strength?”
Tzadkiel nodded slowly. “That I have adapted to it and am all the more capable for it? Yes.”
Understanding lighted Benjamin’s features. He smiled and relaxed into Tzadkiel with a contented sigh, then straightened at some stray thought Tzadkiel knew he would share.
“Even when there’s nothing magic to orient myself around, I have ways of sensing the world. I walk through the Common on a windy day, and the sound of the leaves rustling fills the empty space for me. Scents bloom like colors in my mind. When I’m with you I can see pretty much everything. You…you don’t have the equivalent though. It’s not like I provide fangs for you.”
Benjamin attempted to take off the chain, but Tzadkiel’s grip stopped him.
“I can savor your blood without these. Even if I were unable, the act or lack thereof would not define me. Just as your manner of navigating the world does not define you.” Tzadkiel squeezed Benjamin’s hand. “I say we are even, hunter mine. Two made whole because we have joined as one.”
Benjamin’s lips parted, and his breaths came in shallow sips. Tzadkiel clasped Benjamin to him and kissed away the unintended pain his words had caused.
“Better?” Tzadkiel asked, some time later.
“I don’t cry.” Benjamin spoke into Tzadkiel’s shirt, his voice muffled. “I can’t.”
“You can, and you do. I know that now.” Not only did he know it, Tzadkiel felt it.
Benjamin’s every surge of joy, and every prick of sadness, now pulsed through Tzadkiel’s heart, both when he and Benjamin were awake and when they were asleep. Perhaps Benjamin did not have tear ducts, but he had a heart.
“You see me,” Benjamin said. “The real me.”
“I see you,” Tzadkiel affirmed. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he and Benjamin would face them together, as one.
“War King,” Benjamin muttered with possessive affection, snuggling close.
Tzadkiel’s arm tightened, drawing him even closer. “Hunter mine.”
Author’s Note
Surrender the Dark began as a What if. Walking down the streets in Cambridge, Massachusetts, two winters ago I was struck by exactly how treacherous some of the brick sidewalks and jutting tree roots would be to someone with visual impairments. In deep contemplation, I stopped at a stoplight on Massachusetts Avenue and looked up at the darkening sky.
Above me, a nineteenth-century brick and granite apartment block loomed. Its decorative urns and pediments were the perfect place, my overactive imagination warned, for a vampire to crouch in wait for its prey. The two veins of thought (no pun intended) collided, and a story idea—blind vampire hunter battles his nemesis—was born.
I didn’t realize, when I began writing Surrender, how many assumptions I made as a sighted person about those who live full and active lives without being able to see. I researched people who’d become blind as adults and read about their adaptation to other ways of relating to the world. It was fascinating but a little embarrassing to understand that I had always assumed living in the dark was something scary and limiting. Through my research, I came to understand that this is very much not the case.
This is a work of fiction, and as such I made some leaps in order to accommodate the story. If you have read the entire book then you will know, however, that I chose not to perform a miracle for Benjamin. I wanted to show that he wishes for his sight not to restore some lost part of himself, but because he believes it will restore the balance to Tzadkiel’s life as well. It is Tzadkiel, however, who metaphorically shows Benjamin how to see himself—his worth and his strength—whether sighted or not.
We all have limitations in life, but they are often the things that ultimately form the foundation for the best parts of ourselves. They make us stronger, more empathetic, or just plain different in a world that is increasingly very much the same. Without minimizing the hardships, this book is about exulting in the magic that results from those differences—both within ourselves and in others—so that we can live life to the fullest in all of its messy, wonderful beauty.
I hope Benjamin and Tzadkiel’s story inspires you to embrace your inner light and to Surrender the Dark.
Love,
Tibby Armstrong
To the Fab Five: Lisa Trejo, Denise Tompkins, Deidre Knight, Janna Bonikowski, and Deirdre Donovan. You gave me such joy with your love of Tzadkiel and Benjamin. This book, for many, many reasons, would not exist without you.
A huge shout out to my editor, Shauna Summers, for taking a chance on me. Thank you for helping me to make this story the best it could be. Having you as my editor is a dream come true.
My undying appreciation and love to Jay Tompkins and Jud Knight for lending me Denise and Deidre for so many creative days, and nights, and weekends…and for making our beautiful friendships a part of your lives.
BY TIBBY ARMSTRONG
Billionaire Brothers Series
Public Relations
Dark Series
Surrender the Dark
Taste the Dark
Hollywood Series
No Apologies
Acting Out
Full Disclosure
Outtakes
Numbers Game
About the Author
TIBBY ARMSTRONG enjoys hanging out with readers on social media. You can find her on
TibbyArmstrong.com
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Tibby answers reader email via [email protected]. Drop by and let her know how you liked the book! Thoughts, comments, questions, and reviews are always welcome.
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