It's nearly midnight when I have outlined some suggestions for how to promote this event. Satisfied that my work is done, I flop back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I wonder what Michael and Sin are doing. Since Sin's arrival, Michael and I have had even less time for each other. Or maybe the fault is mine. Lately, so much of my energy is focused on figuring Victor out. I roll off my bed, cross the room, open the French doors, and step out onto the balcony. The night is clear, the moon is bright, and the electricity from the Works is strong. The entire city looks like a collection of fireflies.
I sit down in a cushion-covered wrought-iron chair. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. A familiar scent is in the air, one I spent way too much time inhaling last night.
I open my eyes, unsurprised that Victor is standing at the edge of the balcony. His tall figure leans carelessly against the railing; he's unafraid of the perilous fall waiting for him if he tips over.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"I wanted to thank you. I saw the news tonight. Your… Teen Initiative."
I shrug. "Just doing my job."
"Were you?"
I don't want to examine my motives, and I especially don't want him examining them, so I say, "You probably shouldn't be here. Jeff is inside." I think. I didn't hear him leave.
"I know. I can elude him easily enough if necessary." He looks out over the city. "I wish I could see this place when the sun is out."
I look across at the streets covered by the choking smog coughed up by the Works. "I wish I'd seen it before the bombs destroyed so much."
"I used to enjoy walking around here before the War. Everything was much brighter back then, and overflowing with life. Right over there"—he points to an intersection through which cars seldom travel—"I saved a child from being hit by a truck. He was human then. Now he's a Lesser."
"Justin?"
He turns his attention back to me. "Yes. He was maybe three or four when he ran into the street. But early in the war, his father was turned. He came back here to preserve his family in the only way he knew how. The thing about Lessers … they never age, never change from how they were when they were turned. Justin will remain a child forever. Never mature enough to outgrow his toys, fall in love, or dream of changing the world. I despise when vampires turn children—even when it's their own."
I don't know what to say. So much about Victor can leave me speechless. People are either reviled by vampires—or they want to become one," he says. "But forever isn't what anyone expects it to be."
"It's never appealed to me. And then there's the whole new diet. Blech."
He grins, looks back out over the city.
I find myself more curious about him than I should be. Four hundred years. I can't imagine. Seventeen years have been hard enough for me. I wonder if the years mean less to him than they do to me.
"What happened to your mom? I never hear anyone talk about Lady Valentine."
"There is no Lady Valentine." Unlike his father, Victor holds my gaze. "I'd been around for a century when my father got rid of her."
"What? You mean, like, divorced her?"
"Banished her. That's how it works with us. Vampires don't do the whole until-death-do-us-part thing."
"Yeah, I guess I can see that. For you, it really would be marriage for eternity." I tuck my feet beneath me. "So your dad just got tired of her?"
"He wanted more children."
It's strange to think of Valentine as a loving dad. I think of him as a lord and master, as a monster, as my enemy.
"A female of the Old Family can give birth only once. Then she becomes sterile." Victor shrugs. "And you have to be born a vampire to conceive a vampire. Those who are turned can't reproduce. I guess it's nature's method of birth control for an immortal species."
"My father once told me that a vampire can't have children with a human."
"True. Your father knew his stuff."
I can hear the respect he had for my father in his voice—even though he never met him.
"So did Valentine have other kids?" I ask.
"Yes, a daughter. Faith."
"I never knew that. Does the Agency know?"
"I don't know. It's not their business."
"I guess not." I look out at the Works and think about Brady, wondering if Victor appreciates having a sibling. "Brady, my brother, had a job there. At the Works. After he returned from the war."
"You miss him."
"All the time."
"Share a good memory of him with me."
I jerk my attention back to Victor. What he's asking seems a simple request, but Brady is personal, so personal. He was my big brother. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still hear him laughing. He had the best laugh. But the most horrific scream.
I can't talk to Victor about his death. Even though I was only nine at the time, and Brady was twenty, the memory is still fresh, raw. He died because of me. We were living in an older part of town then. My parents were working late at the university when the vampires came, and Brady shoved me in a closet. To keep me safe. To protect me. I was scared. I didn't want him to leave me. To calm me, to reassure me, he said, "Don't be afraid of the dark." They were the last words he ever said to me. Then he shut the door. After that all I heard was the fighting. And the awful screaming. I curled up into a tight ball, wanting to get so small that the vampires wouldn't see me if they opened the door. It was hours before the door opened, and when it did, my mother pulled me onto her lap. Brady was gone. I can't find the words to tell Victor the anguish that still consumes me after all these years. Brady died protecting me. His death influenced me, shaped my hatred of vampires. Every vampire I see is the faceless one who killed him. I live with his screams; it's like he's always in the next room, and I'm still trapped in that closet, listening with my hands over my ears, praying for an ounce of sunlight to come in through the windows. But it never did. I know it's not rational. I was only nine, a kid. I just wish I could have saved him.
I want Victor to leave me alone. Brady is too personal, too private, too painful. I shake my head. "I can't talk about him." My voice is scratchy, as though I've been crying, but where Brady is concerned I have no more tears left.
Victor crouches in front of me. "I share with you pieces of my world. Tell me something about Brady. Help me to understand … your heart."
Victor can be persuasive. Suddenly I want him to know about this place inside me that still bleeds. He's shown me another side of vampires; maybe this will enlighten him about humans a bit more.
With my finger, I trace a circle over the back of my left hand. "Somehow, when he was working, coal dust got embedded in an open cut on his hand, and when the wound healed, the dust got trapped. It looked like a small flower blossoming, no bigger than a thumbnail. Sometimes he'd color with me in my coloring book. I'd watch his hand move as he carefully filled in between the lines, and the little petals would move back and forth like they were being brushed with a gentle breeze. They fascinated me."
At least, I remember it looking that way.
They never found my brother's body. After I became a delegate, I was able to get my hands on the Agency report of the incident. It said they'd found so much blood, they suspected he died in the apartment and the vampire dragged him away, maybe to the sewers or a vampire lair. I hate that image the most: a horde of vampires slowly feasting on the remains of the boy with the flower tattoo on his hand. Not knowing what became of him leaves me to imagine the worst.
"I've been wondering something," I say quietly.
He doesn't say anything. Just waits. I guess when you live for eternity, patience comes naturally.
"You seem to know the vampires who live in the city. I don't suppose you ever heard who took him. Whether he died quickly or slowly."
"I'm sorry. No. I never heard anything."
I sigh. "Just thought I'd ask."
"I can understand how his death shaped your opinions about us. But please know that we're not all monsters."
"Yeah, so I'm starting to realize." I look back toward the Works. I can't look at him, because I'm afraid that if I do, something inside me will crumble, that this protective shield will melt away. And I'll care about vampires. Worse, I'll care about Victor.
Friday afternoon, Michael and I head to the Daylight Grill after school. I need this time with him. Last night with Victor was too intense, encompassing a riot of emotions. It made me feel like a traitor to Michael. I know he wouldn't approve of my spending time with a vampire. And I care about Michael so much. I love everything about him, and I drink in the details as we walk. The way his muscles bunch when he moves. The way he smiles when he looks at me.
At the Daylight Grill, we sit across from each other and hold hands. I just can't seem to touch him enough.
He furrows his brow. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. Sure."
"That guy in the snake hoodie isn't bothering you again, is he?"
"I don't think so."
"You don't think?"
I shake my head. How to explain without sounding like I'm losing my mind? "Sometimes I feel like I'm being watched. And I thought I saw him the other morning on my way to school, but when I went after him—"
"You went after him?"
"It was fine. The streets were crowded. I don't even know if it was him. I lost him."
"Okay, starting Monday morning I'm walking you to school. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
He sounds so confident, so sure. But then, so did Brady.
Vivi and Sin come in and join us. We talk for a while, but the conversation seems to drag. Finally I suggest we play some pool.
"Don't you guys ever get bored with this place?" Sin asks.