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We started it wrong and I think you know.
"Do you still fear me?"
I think about this for a moment as we spin. I see other Reapers watching from their tables, some from the bar. I fear them and what they could do. What they would do, if they knew who I used to be. But Ashen feels different, no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise. I shake my head but I angle my face away as I think about how foolish it is to let my fear go.
I don't know why we break so hard
"Do you trust me?" Ashen asks, the heat of his breath warm across my neck. The room disappears from view, as though we're the only two people here. The scent of mint and ink fills my senses. I press my lips to my hand that rests on Ashen's shoulder and I close my eyes.
Let it all go, let it all go, let it all out now.
I shake my head. It's the truth but there’s a pain in my heart to admit it. I squeeze Ashen's hand. I want him to know that I wish I could.
Who says truth is beauty after all
And who says love should break us when we fall
The music cascades around us. The lights glitter in the reflection of the polished floor and I almost believe I'm floating on stars. I feel every note Tessa sings. The bow across the strings, the hammer of the piano keys. I feel Ashen's hand drift across my skin, his face close to mine, his lips next to my ear. I press my body closer to his. It feels like I belong here, even though every touch feels stolen.
We're strong enough to let it go.
The music slows, growing quieter with every breath. Ashen grasps my hand tighter within his. His palm steadies my back as he dips me toward the floor. He draws away and looks into my eyes. "Can you try to place your trust in me?"
The music fades away.
All I offer is a smile.
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Chapter 20
"Time to go, vampire," Ashen says, pulling his wine glass out of my hands.
I mount a silent protest, even though it's probably a good idea that he removes any alcohol from my possession. Because I am shitfaced.
When we got back to the table after our dance there was a replenished pitcher of fangria and a full bottle of Rakomelo at my place-setting. A small card was tied around its neck, written in a sharp, precise script. Everything they said about vampires is true. Enjoy your evening. Best wishes, Imani.
I haven't had Rakomelo in decades.
And now I remember why.
After four pitchers of fangria, the bottle of Rakomelo, and more than a few stolen sips of Ashen's wine (a full glass of which I downed just now before he could pry it from my hands), I am thoroughly hammered.
I would love to stay longer, particularly as Ember has been keeping her smart mouth shut. Cole has also been a pleasant surprise with some entertaining stories of his life as a human before his induction into the Shadow Realm. The process of induction was murky at best, and he deftly skirted around the topic in favor of anecdotes of his adventures. I was right about the surfer vibe. He has some great tales of travels from beach to beach, chasing waves, which of course I can relate to being a bit of a former beach bum myself.
But Ashen insists the hour is late. Something about creepy blah blah something Shadow Realm who cares. He pockets my journal and pen, loops the strap of the katana over his shoulder, then bids farewell to Ember and Cole on our behalf. He then extends his hand for me to take. My heart twists when I place my palm in his. Heat fills my chest as I stand and meet his eyes. Ashen looks at me for a moment that feels too long before he turns in the direction of the door, pulling me with him. I give a drunken salute to our di
The cooler air of the night meets my skin in a welcome embrace as we pass through the doors of Bit Akalum. I don't even notice if there are other Reapers on the patio. I don't think about the fog, or the sounds that lurk in its depths. I just feel the warmth of Ashen's hand around mine.
I heave a heavy sigh and take a sip from the bottle of wine. What the fuck is wrong with me. I mean, other than being drunk, obviously. When Ashen doesn't let go of my hand as we turn down the road, I feel like I don't want him to. And I want it to mean more than just keeping me upright, or looking after me in this sketchy realm as I try not to wobble on my heels. I want it to be for me.
"All right, vampire?" he asks as the fog of the road absorbs us. I take another long draft from the bottle and offer it to him, but he declines.
I shrug. I notice for the first time that it's darker than it was before. I guess there are only two shades to the Shadow Realm: twilight, and night. Makes sense, I guess, and I gesture toward the road ahead and give him a thumbs up around my grip on the bottle.
Just as I put my arm back down at my side, something grazes the hem of my dress and darts past me. I catch sight of a shape ru
"Not a dog, vampire," Ashen says as I back into him and his arm locks around my waist. "It's a crawler. An old and angry soul."
What the fuck, I mouth as I point with my bottle in the direction of the sound of its hiss as the creature continues into the fog. I hear a high-pitched, whistling cry, then another behind us, followed by a third to our left. Ashen takes hold of my hand once more and pulls me along, his other hand gripping his sword as the flame ripples to life across the blade.
"We need to go."
We pick up the pace, which is a mission in these heels. I pull Ashen to a stop so I can take them off and I expect he’ll roll his eyes or huff about it, but he doesn’t. He just holds my arm for balance and watches with a worried expression, his eyes darting toward a high-pitched call in the fog behind us. When I’m done, we carry on in tense silence, going as quickly as my impaired balance allow. We don’t see them, but I know they're there. I feel the presence of souls in the night, even when they're silent.
There’s a scuttling sound close behind us as we round the corner and start down the center of the road leading back to House Urbigu. Ashen lets go of my hand and spins away from me. I follow his movement. His sword cuts a low arc in the fog. Before he lands the blow, I see the crawler in the light of his blade, galloping toward him. It has the body of something once like a human with the movement of a beast. Its eyes are fixed to me, but it’s heading straight for the Reaper.
Ashen’s sword cuts it clean through the middle, the two halves of the soul separating like slices of meat. Thick, putrid blood and the smell of decay flood the road as the creature falls at the Reaper’s feet. I press my hand across my nose and mouth and swallow down the bile that rises in my throat. This is so not a good time to be drunk, I think, though it’s a little too late now.
“Shit,” Ashen says, looking down at the creature. A screech from further down the road fills the still night air. “That’s not good. Run, Lu.”
Ashen turns in my direction. I drop my shoes and throw my bottle of wine, hoping the shattered glass might slow some of the creatures down. And then we run. We run as fast as we can go together, Ashen’s hand clasped around mine. My legs burn, my heart surges. More screeching calls pierce the fog. Bare feet and palms smack the surface of the road behind us. I smell their rot and ruin. I feel their hatred and malice.