Caden’s body began to shake. He was laughing at me. When I remembered why, I started giggling as well. Of course Bishop would be fine—the jagged rocks might not be. “I keep forgetting. You all seem so … normal,” I said, turning slightly to steal a glimpse at Caden’s face, which could never in a million years be described as normal.
Amelie leapt off the same boulder, landing on Bishop’s back and tackling him underwater.
“They’re close, those two. Amelie reminds him of his own little sister. She didn’t survive the war,” Caden explained, tossing the old bandages into the fire.
A movement to my left caught my attention. Fiona slyly darted from a hidden alcove to tackle Bishop the second he emerged from the water. Amelie popped up then and tag–teamed against him.
“And Amelie and Fiona … I think those two share a brain,” Caden added.
I laughed. “Have they always been so close?”
“Instantly. Just like how they’ve attached themselves to you.”
That same guilty pain twisted my stomach again with the knowledge that I would choose Caden over them, if I had to. But I so desperately didn’t want to. Why couldn’t I bring all four back? Why did I have to choose? Because anything else would be too easy, Evangeline. And nothing comes easy for you.
I leaned against Caden’s chest, my eyelids drooping, suddenly exhausted. Not pendant–cooling, universe–changing exhausted, just plain tired from the day’s excitement. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually slept. But I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to leave them. Ever.
Unfortunately, my yawn didn’t escape their notice.
“Come.” Fiona beckoned to Bishop as she hopped lithely from the water. “Let’s see if we can blow up that air mattress.”
Bishop jumped out of the water and, slapping Fiona’s butt playfully, tore down the tunnel. Fiona chased after him, howling with laughter.
When I turned back, Amelie was out of the water as well. “I’m going to help Fiona, otherwise Bishop’s liable to distract her,” she said cheerily, leaning down to give me a quick hug before turning to skip down the tunnel and out of sight.
I smiled, wondering what they’d be like if they were surrounded by humans, their primal hunger tested daily. Would Bishop be a loveable, obnoxious goof? Would Fiona be so laid–back? Would Amelie still leap around like a silly girl, throwing her arms around me in affection? And Caden, would he still vanish into the woods to pick me flowers?
Would they feed off humans?
I wondered if we would be friends. That was what they were—friends. My first friends in years, and they were a bunch of vampires. The first guy I couldn’t be near without going weak in the knees, and he was a vampire. And I didn’t care. Right down to my core, I knew there was no part of me that was bothered by that. I wanted to be with them forever.
But could they be lying about everything? Pretending?
“Go to sleep,” Caden whispered, sliding back so I was lying down, my head resting against his lap.
“I’m not tired,” I said through another yawn, fighting heavy eyelids.
He smiled down at me, his green eyes twinkling. If only it meant something more than general friendliness.
A delirious giggle escaped me.
“What?” he asked, his brow knitted.
“Nothing,” I murmured.
I felt his fingertip trace my upper, then my lower lip. This can’t be innocent. He can’t be this oblivious to my feelings. Would he act so flirtatious, knowing? I started playing the day through in my head—the flowers, the doting, the gentle nudges and touches. Maybe he did have feelings for me?
With every ounce of energy, I held Caden’s gaze, trying to read those impenetrable pools of jade. But the pools finally blurred as I lost the battle with my eyelids. I let them rest, reveling under his touch.
I was certain my eyes had closed for only a minute. But when they opened again, daylight peeked in from the cave entrance. A pit full of ash from a night’s worth of logs sat beside me, the flames barely flickering anymore. I inhaled and grimaced, the mixture of chill air and stale smoke unpleasant.
I was still on Ratheus. Lying on a mattress. In a sleeping bag.
“It’s high quality. The label says ‘Good to minus twenty–five degrees Fahrenheit,’ so you should be toasty.”
I rolled over. Caden lay on his back beside me, one arm supporting his head, The War of the Worlds open in his other hand; he still wore the sky blue shirt and jeans he had on earlier. “Imagine, humans being exterminated, their blood devoured, the end of the world. How ridiculous.” He smirked.
My heart skipped a few beats. He was lying so close to me. Only a hundred layers of flannel, fluff, and a Gortex–like exterior stood in our way. And clothes. My hands roamed my body, feeling flannel and sweats. “Where’s my bathing suit?” I asked, feeling my cheeks heat.
“Amelie changed you. Bishop and I were nowhere around,” Caden confirmed quickly, his face solemn.
A small sigh of relief. “I’m still here,” I said, half question, half statement.
“Yes. Is that a bad thing?” He put the book down and reached over to twist a strand of my hair between his fingers.
“No …” I smiled shyly.
His finger slipped down my cheekbone to my lips then, that mysterious smile on his face. “No,” he repeated, leaning in to press his forehead against mine.
I think my heart stopped beating altogether. Such intensity in his eyes, so tempting … I leaned forward and kissed him. Just like that—no warning, no invitation.
For a second I was sure he was responding, but then he pulled away. “Evangeline, no,” he murmured softly. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
Oh God. Oh no! My stomach constricted, nausea swelling through me as I felt the blood drain from my face. I swallowed repeatedly, sure I was going to be sick, the crushing realization that I had misunderstood him overwhelming. Of course he didn’t like me that way. How could I ever entertain such a ludicrous idea? And now I had ruined it, made everything between us unbearably awkward.
I had to get away.
I started wriggling furiously, trying to work myself out of my sleeping bag. Thanks to a secure zipper pulled to the top, I was trapped. With a little focus and maneuvering, I managed to free my arms, only to have Caden grab them.
“No, don’t,” he pleaded softly. I struggled in vain to break free of his grasp. He finally pinned me down onto my back and leaned over me so our faces were level.
“I’m sorry, that was stupid. I don’t know why I did it.” I averted my gaze, fighting the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes.
“No, it’s my fault,” he whispered.
“No. I’m the idiot who misread everything.”
“You’re not an idiot and you didn’t misread anything,” Caden said through clenched teeth.
I frowned. I didn’t? Does that mean … Hope stirred. I looked up at him, questioning.
That hope was instantly trampled with his next words. “Listen to me carefully,” he began with cold, determined resolve in his eyes now. He spoke slowly and clearly. “It can’t happen. You and I can’t happen. We will never happen.”
A hard, agonized lump filled my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on breathing. A single tear slipped out and ran down my cheek. Then another. And another. I took a deep breath. When I was sure I’d suppressed any other tears, I opened my eyes. Caden’s were now shut tightly, his jaw clenched and his lips pressed together as if fighting an inner demon. He hadn’t moved from his position; he still hovered over me, pinning my arms down.
I tried to make sense of what he was saying, but I couldn’t. You didn’t misread anything. So did he feel something for me? But his next words were so definite, so uncompromising: We will never happen. I didn’t understand. “Why?” I heard myself croak, not intending to ask that out loud. I knew the answer already. Because you’re a plain little girl.
Caden leaned in, his lips grazing mine, so lightly that it couldn’t be intentional. He didn’t mean to do that. It had to be an accident. His eyes were still closed. He couldn’t see anything.
When his eyes finally fluttered open again, I saw the distance in them. “We are two different species, living in two different worlds. It’s impossible,” he said. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he let go of my wrists and flopped back down beside me to stare vacantly up at the ceiling.
“I’ll figure out a way to bring you back,” I declared.
“Just me?”
“No … I’ll figure out a way to bring you all back. There has to be away.”
“Yes, but it’ll be too dangerous for you to stand in the same room with me, let alone … anything else.”
A strange sensation rippled through me when he said that. Be with him, he meant.
Caden sighed, pressing his hand against his forehead.
“Is it Rachel?” I asked quietly, then bit my lower lip.
He began laughing, then groaned. “How could I forget about her?” he muttered to himself. He groaned loudly again, running a hand through his hair, sending it into disarray. His face went disturbingly calm as he fell deep into thought for a moment. Finally he turned to looked at me. “Yes, it’s Rachel. As long as she and I are together, you and I can’t be.”
I nodded slowly, rolling onto my back to stare up at the cave ceiling, wanting to be anywhere but there so he wouldn’t see me cry. As if hearing my silent pleas, the constant burn of the pendant faded. “I’m leaving now,” I announced, my voice hollow. Back to a house of devious vampires and a back–stabbing dog.
My head rolled toward Caden for one more look into those beautiful jade eyes. I saw anguish. And then I was gone.
My eyes snapped open. The pain of Caden’s rejection still burned hot through my body. That pain was quickly quashed, though, by the sight of my balcony doors hanging haphazardly from their hinges, the glass shattered. I sat up to find the corpse of a large black animal, too mutilated to identify but most certainly dead, lying on the floor, its blood splattering the walls and floor of my perfect white and silver bedroom. The creature had obviously gained entry from the balcony, though I had no idea how, given we were five storeys up and it had no wings.
A deep growl sounded behind me. I turned to see Max facing my bedroom door, hackles raised.
Someone—or something—was on the other side of that door, and it wanted in.
Hide! a deep male voice ordered.
I leapt out of bed and whirled, looking for the source. There was no one in the room but Max and me.
Under the bed!
My eyes darted suspiciously to the curtains, half expecting a tiny old man to pop out from behind them and introduce himself as the Wizard of Oz.
Now! the voice shouted.
It no longer mattered where it was coming from. The warning shot through my paralyzed legs like a lightning bolt, forcing them to move of their own accord before my brain could instruct them. I dove under the bed a split second before the door exploded, splinters of wood flying in every direction.
Ferocious snarling intermingled with the ghastly sounds of tearing flesh and bones snapping like twigs. I heard countless yelps of pain but I couldn’t identify the owners. I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth, my fear for Max outweighing that for myself. Even with his betrayal—spying on me for Mortimer—I didn’t want him hurt in doing his job to guard me.
From my vantage point, I could only see feet. There were so many of them—gigantic, hairy, black paws with talon–like claws. Max was outnumbered.
A final yelp, then my room fell to dead silence. I remained in my hiding spot, gripped by fear, watching as a set of black paws limped toward me. They stopped at the end of the bed. A big black nose sniffed under the bed. I recoiled as far back as possible.
You’re safe now, that male voice—the one who had warned me to hide—whispered. He was obviously in great pain.
The animal by the bed keeled over, its yellow eyes coming level with mine as its chin settled on the floor.
“Max!” I slid out from my hiding place. Five more heaps of flesh and gore like the one that had greeted me lay nearby. I gasped as I saw Max’s torn and punctured body; a pool of blood was rapidly forming underneath him. I crumpled to the floor, resting my forehead on his, and wept.
Don’t worry. I just need rest, the voice whispered.
I gasped.
16. Telepathy
Yes, it’s me you hear.
My eyes bulged. “How?”
Before Max could answer, a commotion erupted in the atrium. Max lifted his head, struggling to stand.
“Stay,” I ordered gently as I crept out onto the balcony, the broken glass from the doors crunching beneath my sneakers.
Sofie was shouting at someone. “Why would you do this?”
Leaning over the railing, I spotted the top of Sofie’s fiery red head as she squared off against another woman.