Velvet (40 page)

“Idiot child,” Tommie roared. “You don’t even know what you’re fighting for.”

He held his hand out and Adrian flew into the air. The trees whipped into a frenzy and I felt a massive wind pulling at my hair, tearing at my clothes. It shrieked toward Tommie, diverting at the last second to push up against Adrian, to hold him in the air.

Tommie looked up at his son, expressionless. “I suppose you won’t know what you’re dying for, either.”

My mind was perfectly blank—I didn’t have the faintest idea what to do. I had no idea Adrian’s father was capable of these kinds of things—I had no idea that
any
of this was possible.

My brain sputtered into action, sluggishly sorting through options. If I threw anything at Tommie, it would just get sucked up into the vortex and hit Adrian. If I stayed still, eventually Adrian would be killed. If I got too close, I would get swept up into the same weird wind tunnel that was holding Adrian immobile in the air. There was nothing I could do. As always, there was absolutely nothing I could do.

And that seriously pissed me off.

I was sick of being helpless. Sick of watching the people I loved die quickly or slowly but always painfully. Sick of standing by.

I was enraged—familiar, beautiful rage.

But then Adrian’s voice came back to me, dancing in the back of my mind—something important, something
crucial
. What had he said, about Tommie? It was only a few minutes ago. What had he
said?

Something about love. Tommie …

Tommie couldn’t feed off love. He wouldn’t use it.

But Adrian
could
.

Rage was useful, rage had seen me through a lot, but at the moment, it was literally fueling the psychopath who was hurting one of the only people I really cared about.

So I let it go.

And instead, I remembered.

I remembered my mom, and how much she’d given up for me. I remembered how happy my dad had been; how full his life was. And I remembered Adrian. I remembered meeting him, in the library. I remembered when he brought me home and made me toast and tucked me into bed. I remembered night after night sleeping next to him, feeling for the first time in my life that I was completely and utterly safe.

Adrian’s eyes, flickering dimly, suddenly flared back into life.

“I love you,” I whispered, looking straight at him, forgetting about Tommie altogether. He was forty feet away, he couldn’t possibly hear me, but he looked at me as if my voice was as clear as day.

The silver blossomed into a flood of light so bright that everything faded and lost color. I continued to stare at Adrian suspended in midair and whispered again, “I love you.”

There were no shadows. Everything was white. I couldn’t see the stars or the grass or my hand in front of my face, even though my eyes were wide-open.

“I love you so much, you stupid boy.”

The roar of the wind faded until it was completely silent, with nothing but the ringing in my ears and the cold sting of the snow beneath my hands and knees to remind me we were still on earth.

And then—abruptly—it was dark.

I felt someone rush past into the forest, the stench of burning flesh trailing after them. My eyesight lagged, strobing under the disorienting glare of the stars overhead. I looked toward where I’d last seen Adrian, but white dots took up most of my vision, and for a panicked second, I couldn’t find him.

Then my vision cleared, finally, and landed on a dark, motionless figure in the grass. I ran, but it felt like a dream, like the distance between us could never be crossed.

But I did reach him. He was facedown in the snow, completely still. The back of his skull was sticky with congealing blood. Shaking uncontrollably, I grabbed his shoulders and rolled him over. His eyes were closed, his face was drenched in blood; more was trickling out of his mouth, and his black shirt was wet.

Trembling, I gently pulled it up.

And then I turned my head and threw up.

His torso looked like ground meat.

Dozens of jagged wounds littered his chest, ranging from pinpricks to holes an inch wide. Rocks, or debris of some kind, must have gotten caught up in the wind tunnel and shot at him so quickly they’d gone straight through his body, like tornadoes that drive flimsy pieces of straw straight through tree trunks. Vampire or not, there was no way someone could survive these kinds of injuries. Adrian had said he wouldn’t
die
, and I realized now he meant he wouldn’t die of natural causes, of old age or sickness. He was hard to kill—but he
could
be killed.

“Adrian?” I whispered. He didn’t so much as twitch. “Adrian, please.” But he remained silent, still.

My fingers hovered over his chest. I could feel heat seeping from the jagged wounds like it was his life itself floating away.

I kept expecting him to wake up, to open his eyes. I kept waiting for him grin and give me a lecture on antibodies and how awesome his immune system was and that he’d be fine, just give him a minute.

But he didn’t—he just lay there.

Because he was gone.

I let out a sob, then slapped my hands over my mouth. I fisted my hands in my hair and sat back on my heels. The stars burned on above us, silent. Feeling like I might puke again, I stood and walked in a short circle, then collapsed, digging my fingers into the snow. I was afraid, though, that he would disappear, if I couldn’t see him. Panicked, I crawled back and cradled Adrian’s body against my chest, finally letting loose the scream I’d held in for so many months.

What did it matter now? No one was listening, anyway.

20

IT IS FINISHED

His body wasn’t just cold, it was
frozen
. When I touched his skin, it seemed to suck the warmth out of my fingertips.

My jaw hurt, not just because I’d been slapped, but because I’d spent the last two hours gritting my teeth in shock—the hour before that had been spent crying uncontrollably, and now my throat was raw and I’d lost my voice. The snow around us was picturesque, the sky above was clear as glass, and I’d long ago become dangerously numb.

Alone in the clearing, I felt once again like I had when Adrian stripped away my sense of self, to hide me from his father during the storm. I felt like nothing. I felt like I had never been.

Congratulations, God, universe, demons, Council, whatever. You won.

They would all pay. Mariana, Dominic, Julian, Tommie—they would all pay for this.

I tore my gaze away from the empty sky and down to Adrian again. He was so beautiful, even now, blown halfway to hell. I’d scrubbed the blood off his face while it was still fresh, but there wasn’t anything else I could do. I couldn’t lift him, couldn’t carry him, couldn’t call for help; didn’t even know which way led back to the house. But it didn’t matter.

I had loved him. That still amazed me. I’d gotten the chance, however briefly, to love someone.

There weren’t any clouds. Brilliant stars, though. I wondered if Adrian was up there. Was he looking down? Was he in heaven? Was he in hell, because of what he was? Or did he just not exist anymore?

I hoped he existed somewhere. Even if it wasn’t here, I hoped he was somewhere. He should be somewhere beautiful. Where somebody loved him.

Except I loved him. So he should be here.

“Adrian,
you promised me
,” I whispered for the hundredth time.

For the hundredth time, he didn’t answer. The meadow smelled like blood.

I was tired. I was going to sleep. I laid my head down on his icy chest and closed my eyes and it didn’t take much to let everything drift away.

I slept hard. So hard that even being asleep felt dark, black. Like the bottom of an abyss, perfectly silent and still.

I was alone.

*   *   *

I found it odd that I didn’t have a nightmare. I figured I should have one. I deserved to have one. My punishment for allowing Adrian to die. But the fact that the entire night had been a waking nightmare perhaps canceled the need for a regular one. Either way, all I did was sleep, and came up slowly, like rising to the surface of a pool after letting all the air out of your lungs. You become heavier, somehow; less able to float. Waking was like that—something you have to do because you can’t stay under forever, but not something you want to do. It’s peaceful with the sound and light muted and the pressure pushing in on you from all sides equally. Water was good like that. It was fair.

I heard my heartbeat pounding sluggishly in my ear. For a moment, I’d forgotten where I was, why I was, why he was the way he was. My heart was loud, and the beat was awkward. Maybe I was having a heart attack.

Huh.

It was
really
loud. I raised my head off Adrian’s chest to check my pulse, and the sound went away.

Every muscle in my body froze.

I laid my head back down on his chest and waited.

And waited.

Three minutes later:
tha-thump (thump)
.

I took my head away again. Again, the sound disappeared.

I made myself examine his face. His eyes were still closed, face still pale and bluish, lips slack.

Trembling, I reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it up. Still dozens of holes—but they were pink, and closing before my eyes, slowly, chunk of tissue by chunk of tissue like some reverse-motion time lapse.

I was going crazy. I must be. I had been out here for hours.

Hours
.

He had been
dead
for hours. I was going crazy.

“Adrian?” I whispered. Did I see his eyelids move, just the tiniest bit? “Adrian, honey, if you’re there, come back,” I whispered, holding his face in my hands. “Come back. Please come back. I’m here. Please come back.”

He frowned, very slightly.

Oh my God.

I put my fingers under his jaw, trying to feel for a pulse. An artery pressed very lightly and very slowly against my fingers.

“Oh my God,” I sobbed, hot tears splashing down my cheeks.

He frowned again. I laughed, clapped my hands over my mouth, and watched him. I was going nuts. I was going absolutely nuts. Joe and Rachel would commit me—they’d find me out here with Adrian’s body two days from now and they’d see me laughing and crying and talking to him and they’d commit me and I wouldn’t blame them.

He sighed a tiny bit, the creases in his forehead deepening.

“
Wake up
,” I whispered.

I rubbed his arms vigorously, thinking that maybe he’d get warmer or something. Maybe I just wanted to touch him. Maybe I was so scared that I couldn’t keep my hands still. Maybe I was going into shock.

His lips parted and he sucked in a thin, raspy, awful breath.

I held the side of his face, leaned down over him, tried to gather him as close as possible, keep him warm with my half-numb body. He coughed weakly, then violently, and frowned.

“
Come back,
” I warned him. “You promised me.”

He took in another breath. It sounded excruciating. It sounded like half his insides were torn up. I told him to breathe again.

He did. In and out, irregular and hoarse and slow and it was hard to listen to, but I stared at him like if I looked away he’d disappear.

He coughed up blood. I wiped his lips off with my sleeve. His eyes were racing back and forth behind his lids.

Finally, he opened them.

But as he stared up at the sky, it seemed as though he couldn’t see anything. Like the stars
were
his eyes and he was looking down at himself, at me, at the blood-spattered clearing, from an entire galaxy away.

“Come back to me,” I whispered.

And a few moments later, he did. His eyes twitched, unfocused. Then he turned, and saw me, recognition lighting up his face. Tears leaked out of his eyes and ran down his bloodstained skin.

We stayed like that for a long time. Staring at each other as he tried to breathe; coughing occasionally as his insides knit themselves back together. I ran my hand under his shirt to feel his injuries. They were raw and sticky, but closed.

“Caitlin?” he whispered in a harsh rasp.

“I’ve got you. Don’t talk, okay? I’ve got you.”

He couldn’t even nod, just stared at me, his eyes blurred with tears, hardly even blinking, as his breathing slowly became less and less jagged. Eventually it became regular; a clear, consistent sound.

“What?” I asked, when a tortured look passed over his face. “What do you need?”

His face contorted into an expression I didn’t understand. All he said was, “No.”

I brushed his hair back from his face, thinking he was delusional. “What do you mean no? No what?”

He shook his head weakly. “Go away.”

I pulled back. “What?”

His eyes snapped open, blazing silver. “
Go away
.”

I shook my head violently.

“Caitlin,” he whispered, looking panicked, “I will hurt you.
I won’t stop
.”

It finally dawned on me. He’d bled for hours—he’d been thirsty before his father had even shown up. He convulsed, sweat rolling down his temples, teeth clenched.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” I propped him up against my knee, pulling my hair away from my neck.

“
No
,” he whispered, gritting his teeth on the word, writhing in my arms like he was on fire.

“Shut up,” I said, and leaned over him.

He let out something between a groan and a snarl and then there were teeth in my skin, slicing through it.

And it hurt.

Oh my God, it
hurt
.

I held back a cry because if he heard it, he’d stop, and if he stopped, he’d die.

He tried to be gentle. Still it felt like someone was twisting scalpels in my neck. I grew light-headed as the blood that should have been pumping into my brain was now draining into Adrian. As he grew stronger, he reached up and held my face with his hand and I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. Just breathing. Everything else was starting to fade away.