She gives me a quick smile before she furrows her brow. "I wasn't the only one with a vampire in my life. Victor is the new Lord Valentine. Why didn't you tell me what he was?"
I hear the edge of betrayal in her voice. Michael and Vivi had met Victor, but they'd thought he was a Night Watchman. And I hadn't corrected them. "I was afraid it would put you in danger."
"You told me you liked him, but how could you if he's a vamp?"
"It's complicated."
"Do you love him?"
I groan. "I don't know. I care for him deeply, but we're not a couple, if that's what you're asking. Humans and vampires never work out."
"You got that right," she mutters.
I know Vivi is struggling with everything she went through. In some ways, what she endured was worse than what I did. Vampires have been screwing with me for as long as I can remember. Even when I began to care for Victor, I was wary. I didn't commit my heart completely.
Vivi thought she was falling for a human.
"I hope he's dead," she says quietly.
I know she's talking about Sin. "I hope so, too."
The door opens and the nurse strides in. "Sorry, visiting time is over."
"One more minute," I plead.
"Nope. You've got a lot of recovering to do."
I give Vivi another hard hug. "It's going to be okay."
"I'll try to sneak back in when she's not looking," she whispers.
My heart lifts at a shadow of the old Vivi.
The nurse flaps her hands at Vivi like she's a bird that needs to be shooed away. "Now go on."
When I'm finally alone, I feel exhausted, but my mind is racing with so many questions that I can't sleep. I can't stand being in the bed. I throw back the blankets, sit up, and swing my legs over the side. I ease my feet to the floor and when I stand my knees buckle. I catch myself by bracing one arm on the bed and grabbing the IV stand with the other hand.
I can't believe how weak I am, but I'm also determined. Using the stand for support, I shuffle toward the window. The sun's rays stream into the small room and I pause on the edge of them. I've never been afraid of the sun. So why am I now? It used to illuminate my world, make it seem worth fighting for. But now …
Oh, God. Did it happen? Did Victor turn me? Is the vampire instinct to fear the light already in my blood?
I hold out my hand and tentatively ease it forward, exploring the empty space in front of me, unsure of where the sunbeams truly begin. It feels like I'm pushing toward an invisible Venus flytrap: one that may snap close, or one that may let me pass.
I watch the light kiss the tips of my fingernails. No burning.
I expose more. Up to my knuckles. No stinging.
Finally I plunge my whole hand into the bright rays, letting the golden glow wash over my skin. It feels wonderful.
I step fully into the sun and press my cheek and body against the glass of the window. Closing my eyes, I absorb the warmth. When I offered Victor my blood, I was certain that I would never again watch a sunrise, would never again experience its perfect illumination.
Yet here I am in a hospital with morning sunlight filtering gently through the window and dancing over me. I have to admit I'm slightly disappointed.
The door opening interrupts my thoughts, and I know it's the nurse, coming to poke and prod me some more. "Just give me a few more minutes," I say.
"I'll give you all the minutes you want," a deep voice replies.
I spin around, nearly losing my balance. Grabbing the sill, I lean back against the window to steady myself. "Michael."
Michael Colt. He's always worn his wheat-colored hair cropped short, but it's grown out some as though he couldn't be bothered with it. Just like Rachel looks as though she misplaced her hairbrush, Michael looks like he lost his razor. But the stubble on his jaw makes him appear tougher, older.
His cheek sports a healing gash and a yellowing bruise. His lower lip is slightly swollen. His arm is encased in a cast and I remember the crack that echoed down the alley when Brady broke it. But Michael didn't stop fighting.
"Rachel called me," he says. "I got here as soon as I could."
Of course she called him. Michael and I have been friends forever. Then a few months ago, we became more. Rachel thinks we're still a couple. But then so does Michael. I never got a chance to tell him that we couldn't be together anymore, that I had strong feelings for someone else. For a vampire.
Michael approaches me cautiously, as though I'll shatter if he moves too quickly. "I was afraid I'd never see those pretty eyes of yours again," he says.
It's cheesy, but my throat tightens as I fight back tears. "Oh, Michael."
Suddenly his arms are around me, and I'm clinging to him.
"I keep having nightmares about that monster that hauled you away," Michael says, his voice low, guilt-ridden. "I'm sorry, Dawn. I'm sorry I couldn't stop that … thing."
That thing? Brady. How much do people know? Rumors and half truths can spread very fast in a week.
"That thing was Brady," I say quietly, struggling to get out his name, as though I don't deserve to even speak it anymore.
He pulls back to look at me. "Your brother?"
I nod, but dizziness assaults me. I sway. He grabs my arm.
"You need to sit," he says, guiding me into a chair in the corner. He crouches in front of me. "You probably shouldn't be out of bed."
I give a little laugh. "When have I ever done anything I'm supposed to?"
He grins, and I gaze into his familiar brown eyes knowing that I'm going to have to hurt him. I don't want to, especially after everything we've gone through lately, but it's not fair to him for me to pretend my feelings haven't changed.
"So Brady, how did he become that thing?" Michael asks.
I tell him how my brother was turned by Sin all those years ago, but honorable Brady wouldn't feed on humans. He fed on vampires instead, not knowing the horrible consequences that awaited him. He became infected with the Thirst, a madness that turns vampires into the worst kind of monsters. They become rabid, craving vampire blood and destroying any human that stumbles across their path.
"How did you get away?" Michael asks. "If Brady was that powerful, how did you escape?"
"Victor. I don't know how he found me, but it's a good thing he did, because if he hadn't—"
"Victor?" he interrupts, obviously unwilling to let me paint Victor as a hero. "The Night Watchman you introduced me to who is now our new overlord? Old Family right in our midst and you never said anything. Why didn't you tell me the truth about him?"
"I couldn't risk placing him in danger. With Victor on the throne, we won't need the Night Watchmen. We won't need to be afraid. Victor will keep the vampires out of the city."
His features turn to stone. "What fantasy world do you live in? Nothing's changed, Dawn. If anything, it's all worse."
That can't be true. Not after all the challenges we faced, the dangers we escaped.
"Is he the one who took your blood? Who almost drained you?"
Oh, God, I know he's not going to like it, but I can't lie to him anymore. Michael deserves so much more than I've given him. If I can't love him like he deserves, I can at least be honest with him.
"He was badly wounded, dying—"
He shoots to his feet, walks to the window, and gazes out. I want to go to him, but I'm suddenly so tired. My body feels like it's weighted down with guilt and betrayal.
"You willingly gave him your blood?"
"He could have taken it all. He could have turned me, Michael, but he didn't. He brought me here. I don't know where he found the strength." My blood would have revived him, but it would have taken time for his gashes and torn flesh to heal. I imagine him staggering through the city, trying to get me to a hospital in time. "Please, don't tell anyone that he was the one who pierced my neck. People will think he's a monster like his father. They won't understand."
"I'm not sure I do, either." He's staring out the window, his jaw tight, his fists clenched. I don't know what to say that will make this any easier for him.
Finally he turns back to me, and I see in his somber eyes that he's come to the painful conclusion—
"You were seeing him, weren't you?"
"Not like you mean. Our paths crossed from time to time—"
"And you fell for him. How could you be so stupid?"
Knowing he has a right to be angry, I struggle to stand. "Michael, I'm so sorry. I was going to tell—"
"Save it for someone else, Dawn. I'm done listening to you."
The door opens and the nurse strides in, pushing a wheelchair. She comes up short as she notices Michael. "Young man—"
"I'm already on my way out." Michael takes two steps, then stops and turns back to me. "I'm glad you woke up. And no matter what I just said, no matter what I might say, that'll never change."
Before I can even respond, he's brushing past the nurse and slamming the door behind him. Watching him go, I know that everything has changed.