Darklight 2: Darkthirst Page 6
“Don’t worry,” he said with a wave of his hand. “You remember what I was like after that redbill mission last year when it tore up my whole back? This is a piece of cake.”
“If you develop an infection or fever, we’ll have to take you to a hospital,” I said sternly. Gina had gone somewhere. We were alone for a moment, for the first time in this harrowing adventure.
“This sucks,” he said with a barked laugh. “Two days ago, everything was great. We’d just finished a groundbreaking step toward a vampire and human alliance, even if all the vampires had gone a little frosty. We had our teammates on our side. You and Gina and I were heading home. Now… well, at least we’ve got the vampires.”
“I know,” I said. “It feels like I’ve cut off a limb. Like we’ve lost a chunk of our lives.”
He nodded solemnly in response. We sat for a moment in silence.
“Mom and Dad are probably worried sick,” he said. “I just wish I could talk to Uncle Alan.”
I swallowed a hard lump in my throat.
“I did,” I confessed and relayed the brief exchange. His eyes widened. “It was… disappointing.”
“How so?”
I avoided his eyes, suddenly afraid that he would think I had made the wrong choice. “He offered to let me and you return to the Bureau but didn’t say what would happen to the rest of the team or the vampires. Said he would forget about this misunderstanding if we came quietly.”
He frowned. “He offered us an out? I wish I could’ve spoken to him.” His eyes fell to the ground as he shook his head. “Even if just to tell him he’s mad if he thought I’d come back if Gina wasn’t included in that deal. Honestly, though, I wouldn’t have accepted it either without an immediate explanation for those blueprints that didn’t include an admission of mass murder.”
I was surprised when he pulled me into a sudden hug.
“You did the right thing,” he reassured me. “And I believe what you’re saying and what those plans say. I’m with you in this until the end, whatever that looks like.”
I hugged him back, tears beginning to fall before I could stop them. “Thanks,” I whispered, my voice thick. After a minute, I pulled away, wiping my damp cheeks. “I need to sleep, and so do you.”
We went to bed weary, unsure of what tomorrow would hold but secure in the knowledge that we would face it together.
Chapter Six
The night was cold but manageable once we got a fire started with the wood that had been left behind. Our growling stomachs in the morning were an entirely different matter. Zach groaned as he padded out into the main cavern, limping and leaning on Gina.
“Everyone looks well-rested,” he announced with a touch of dark sarcasm.
I looked around and decided he was right. The journey had tired the vampires. Some of them had yet to emerge from their nooks. Sike yawned as he spoke to Dorian on the other side of the cavern. Bryce scrubbed at his weary eyes. My brother’s usually sun-kissed face was paling by the day. Our Bureau uniforms were becoming stained and tattered. We looked like hell. No, worse. I sighed and dragged a hand through my greasy, stringy hair. The timed hot showers in the trial facility seemed like paradise now.
“We’ve got to find food,” I said. “All of us.”
“Why do the vampires have to feed?” Zach asked. “You guys just fed.”
“Despite the blood we drank in combat, we’re all still weak from six weeks of starvation during the trial,” Dorian explained, ruffling his own slightly grimy hair. “We have to stay fed to be able to fight at full strength, especially since I imagine we’ll be expending lots of energy in the next few days. Certainly, far more than we were at the trial facility.”
Gina helped Zach rest on one of the dirty mattresses covered in slightly damp blankets that currently served as a bed. She and I then joined the vampires who had been close enough to hear our discussion, my stomach flipping with nerves as we drew closer. Several of the newer vampires looked more unfriendly than usual this morning. They needed to feed. Dorian glanced at me for a brief second, and a slight burn rose in my chest. I wasn’t sure whether it was from anxiety or because Dorian was only a few feet from me.
“We need to venture somewhere far enough from this place that nobody could link us back here,” Dorian said gravely. “If someone catches us…”
He didn’t finish his sentence—maybe he was too tired—but we didn’t need him to. By now, we all knew the risk. I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the pain and pay attention. Being close to Dorian didn’t help my focus. Even hungry and grim, I had to fight the urge to trace the lines of his face with my fingertips. I wanted nothing more than to press feather-light kisses to the shadowed swirls of his cheekbones and along the line of his jaw.
A sudden chesty cough from Gina broke the spell my own mind had cast on me. After glancing at her to see if she was all right and becoming slightly concerned by the red rims around her dull eyes, I tuned back into the conversation. My team needed supplies.
“On our way back, we can scout for any human presence around the mountain,” Dorian was saying. “If we break into two groups, one can venture out for food, and one can scrounge whatever other supplies they can from the mountain.”
“I’ll stay here for the scrounging,” Bryce volunteered. “Was always told I had a particular talent for it when I was a lad.”
“I’ll stay too,” Rhome said. The way his eyes continually drifted to the hideout entrance, as if he were hoping to see Kreya and the children walk in at any moment, ensured no one questioned his choice.
“Good man,” Bryce said, clapping the older vampire on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll allow me to air some of my thoughts…”
The two of them stepped to the side, scraps of conversation occasionally reaching our larger group, regarding how to warm the human bodies at night, how to wash the rank clothes that now bordered on a health risk, and what useful items might have been abandoned in the ski resort.
I felt grateful for Bryce and Rhome. Their eagerness emanated a lighthearted feeling of purpose into the room. I drew myself up straight. We were roughing it now, but everyone was determined to make it work. Even Dorian moved with new energy, the shadows beneath his eyes beginning to lighten.
“The resort seems to have been closed for some time, but there might be some blankets, cushions, or clothes left behind,” Sike said. “Maybe even some couch cushions or something.”
“Anything that could work as a layer against the cold is vital for us humans,” Gina said, sniffing and wiping her nose on her sleeve. “One night in those clammy blankets, even with a fire, and I’m at risk of a head cold. Zach needs the best chance we can give him to fight off any potential infection from his wound. We need to get warm and stay warm.”
“The cold doesn’t really affect vampires,” Dorian said, “so we’re more than willing to give you humans the bulk of the blankets and warm clothing.”
“That’s good,” I said, “but our top priority is food and fuel for a fire. Maybe even medicine or first-aid supplies if we’re lucky.”
The venturing-out group made a plan. Gina, Dorian, Laini, several of the new vampires, and I would set out on the food mission. We had manpower and actual superpowers in the group. As we organized ourselves, I felt my legs lighten, eager to get back to work. It was a familiar sensation, as though I was about to suit up for a mission.
The redbills had settled closer toward the exit, razor-sharp beaks preening their dark feathers as they fluffed up against the chill. We found them, and they hopped up eagerly to walk with us. I purposefully took a step toward Dorian’s redbill. The colossal creature stiffened slightly and then lashed out with an offended chirp.
“Perhaps you should take that one,” he suggested, looking in the direction of Bravi’s bill.
I frowned but persisted toward his redbill, keeping my body language non-threatening. The hurt done to my feelings when Dorian had acted coldly toward me was almost equal to the pain that so ofte
n flared in my chest. Neither he nor old Sassyface the redbill was going to brush me off that easily.
As if in support of my determination, the redbill relaxed as I made my second approach, eventually allowing me to bury my hand in its inky feathers.
“I hoped we could still talk after everything that happened.” I didn’t look at Dorian as I spoke, instead focusing on the soft chill of the redbill under my fingers. He was silent for a moment, and eventually, I glanced over at him.
His lips were pressed together, but he nodded. “I prefer that you ride with me anyway.”
My heart fluttered at that, and I had to remind it that fluttering wasn’t appropriate, given the circumstances. But I couldn’t help the corner of my mouth quirking slightly.
He went on, tone flat. “Just don’t fall off the redbill if you start having feelings for me or something equally… unprofessional.”
I raised an eyebrow, amused and slightly indignant. We knew something about us caused the physical reaction in me, so that might have been an entirely practical concern for my safety. On the other hand… no lilting note had given him away, but the slightest flutter of a smirk made me think he might be teasing. His humor was so dry it could be hard to tell. Not to be bested, I tossed my head in exaggerated elegance with the scraps of pride I had left.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I replied archly, striking a pose in my grimy uniform that I had now covered in a tattered gray coat that was three sizes too big that was lined with sheepskin. “Everything about me just screams professionalism right now, so I’m sure I can manage to squash any pesky feelings.”
We fell into uncertain silence. Gina shot me a wary look from the back of Bravi’s bill. We needed to get moving.
Without another word, Dorian swung effortlessly onto his bill, and I followed, though not as smoothly.
Everyone took off. The redbills seemed eager to spread their wings after a good night’s rest. I eyed their energetic movements jealously since my own body was still wracked with fatigue.
In flight, he couldn’t escape our conversation. No handy ex-colleagues of mine to save him this time.
“You’re right. Our palpable attraction might not be good for redbill flights,” I told him, pointing down. The jagged mountain, already far beneath us, didn’t look cozy from this height.
“You want to talk?” he guessed. His tone had a punch of amusement and tiredness. He knew he was trapped.
“Right again,” I admitted. “I didn’t get to tell you before we were interrupted by my lovely comrades. I… I was frustrated with your actions.”
I felt him tense slightly as if preparing for a fight.
“I sensed that.” His voice was guarded and deliberately neutral.
“Yes, but you don’t know how it made me feel,” I insisted, irked at his apparent unwillingness to engage. The passing wind kept our conversation close to us, thankfully.
In the beat of silence that I gave to allow him to respond, I took stock of where the rest of our team was. The redbills flew in a staggered horizontal line, reminding me of monstrous geese in a migration pattern. However, our bird flew the lowest by quite a noticeable distance. I turned my head enough to catch a glimpse of his face. Was he genuinely worried about me passing out again?
“I know I treated you poorly.” There was regret in his tone.
I sighed, wishing we didn’t have to have this conversation but knowing we both needed it. “Yeah, you did. I thought I’d done something wrong. And I spent hours trying to figure out what it could have been, but there was nothing. I felt… rejected. Abandoned. Even kind of embarrassed. I’d let myself be vulnerable, and other people had seen me let my guard down around you, and then… I was just ignored. As if I was worthless. As if that leap of faith meant nothing to you.” I had to stop for a moment, pain flaring in my chest. “It hurt, especially after everything we went through together. I just… I wish you had trusted me enough to talk to me about it all.”
“Lyra,” he said and paused. His voice was thick with regret. “I’m sorry I hurt you. That I broke your trust like that. That I made you feel that way.”
“Don’t do it again.” I bit my lip. “Trust me next time.”
He nodded.
A silence fell over us.
“I’m afraid to hurt you again,” he said in a low voice. “And I don’t mean emotionally. I can’t bear to cause you pain.” The last sentence sounded frustrated, like he didn’t know how to avoid hurting me. And he honestly didn’t know. Neither of us did at this stage.
I shrugged. “It’s inevitable. When you ignore me, it hurts. When we get too close, it hurts. There’s no easy middle ground.”
“It’s not the same,” he pointed out. “Those are different types of pain.”
“Yes. Neither is preferable to the other,” I replied.
His back stiffened.
I licked my dry lips. Our situation was tough for both of us. “Maybe we would be better off focusing on what’s happening around us. It’s sure as hell a big enough distraction. And we don’t need to try to be anything but friends. Things are complicated enough right now without our feelings being added to the mess.” I shivered a little in the frozen air. “Maybe it’s like a muscle? If we don’t act on our feelings, let them dwindle… perhaps they’ll weaken. Maybe the pain will too.”
“It will be difficult,” he admitted. “I can’t just turn it off. We’re together every day.”
Oh, he wanted to talk about it being difficult? I hadn’t been given an option back at the trial facility. He had made the decision for us.
I let out a sharp breath and replied tartly, “If you could handle totally cutting me out of your life before, then surely you can handle being just friends.”
“That was different,” he insisted. “You were in a coma.”
“I wasn’t in a coma when I came back, Dorian. You can’t push me away like that again. Being friends may be our only option.”
“We can try,” he said. His voice rang with doubt.
A part of me couldn’t blame him, but my logic shouted louder. It wasn’t like I wanted to stuff my feelings down either, but there was no other option at the moment. I sighed and watched the land passing below us. “I’m not sure if it’s for the best either… but we can try.”
A short while later, the redbills descended toward our area of interest. A luxurious gated community somewhere in the suburbs came into view. We could have been several states away for all I knew. The houses were painted various shades of cream and blue with tall, black wrought-iron fences around manicured gardens. From the various empty driveways and yards, it seemed the majority of people had either already left for work or weren’t awake yet.
My heart beat wildly with nerves at the thought of Dorian and his vampires feeding here. Would they be able to find enough criminals for several hungry vampires? My gaze swung over the lay of the land, taking in the tidy lawns and tasteful water features. Although I was well aware that appearances could be deceiving, this definitely didn’t look like a hotbed of horrific crime.
“All clear,” Laini called out.
Everyone landed in a small cluster of trees near the entrance to the community and slid from their redbills. We surveyed the area around us. A woman in pastel running gear jogged by on the other side of the road, but she had headphones on and was clearly focused on her exercise. We all waited, motionless, until she disappeared from sight.
Gina looked two shades too pale as she and I shared a look. We knew the mission was going to entail the vampires feeding. Our previous missions had trained us for a lot, but not the moral juggling act of vampire nutrition.
Dorian caught my look. “The people we will feed on… I assure you they don’t deserve your sympathy,” he said.
I bit my tongue to stop from saying that, unlike vampires, I didn’t have the inherent ability to sense moral darkness in an individual. I grew up with courts of law, an idea of justice that involved due process and not instinctual urges.
“I would also prefer convictions first,” Laini said abruptly. “We could’ve tried to work within the system if the Bureau hadn’t forced us into hiding like this. And in an ideal world, people would surrender to be cleansed of their own free will.”
I was relieved to hear her suggestion. I understood the vampires targeted individuals who committed unforgivable acts, but a system would be better. Perhaps there was hope in the future for vampires and humans working together… if we could get the Bureau in line.
“It used to be that way,” Sabal said in an almost singsong tone. “Long ago, in the time of our ancestors. Evildoers would come to be cleansed, taking delight in the sacrifice of their pain. Given freely, the feeding did not kill them, and they were given a chance to live again, renewed by our service.”
She sounded far too delighted to discuss cleansing and punishment. The way her eerie green eyes flashed made me uncomfortable.
“Stories like those seem to conveniently forget that we’ve been moral garbage collectors for eternity and are universally hated for it,” Bravi said. “Even if that kind of thing actually happened way back when it’s not like that now. Just embrace our place in the world for what it is.”
Sabal flared her fangs in response, the long incisors flashing white. Bravi sneered and shrugged her broad shoulders.
“A human-vampire justice system is worth considering,” Dorian said, putting out a placating hand. “And if some of what Sabal says is true, then it could genuinely benefit both sides.”
“This conversation is futile,” Jeth, the older man who had been scouting with Lex the previous day, said hotly. “I’m hungry. Why are we still talking?”
Gina glanced at me. We would have to swallow our distaste for now. This situation was unique. Maybe it could have been different, but as Laini pointed out, the Bureau had forced our hand.