Blood Type
Page 41
“Wow,” she breathed into the wind, with Beckham at her side.
The entire city was laid out before them. Where she had thought it was dark and silent, it was so clear now that it was bright and bustling. The buildings and streets were lit up to show the crisscrossed blueprint of the city.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yes,” he agreed. She felt his gaze sweep her face and wondered if they were talking about the same thing. “Yes, you are.”
Chapter 23
His words were like a dream. She wanted to respond, but she was worried she would wake up and the dream would dissolve into reality.
She couldn’t help herself. She turned her head and looked at Beckham. Their eyes locked and everything crystallized. Whatever had been going on between them was real. He might deny it. She might try to deny it. But she saw even in that brief moment that he felt something. A thread connected them, and all she wanted to do was tug on it and bring him closer.
“This is one of my favorite places in the city,” he told her.
“Why?”
She felt as if she could hardly breathe in his presence. No more than a foot was between them, but it was suddenly as if all the air had been sucked out of the sky.
“The city almost looks whole from up here.”
“And not from the streets?”
He circled the dew on the railing with his finger. “You know it doesn’t look whole from down there. You’re the one with the camera.”
At the mention of the camera, she suddenly remembered that was the whole purpose of the trip. The thread grew longer, pushing distance between them again. It was a bit of a tug-of-war, keeping up with the rawness of his shifting emotions.
To keep her face neutral, she dug into her bag and retrieved the camera. Putting a physical barrier between them should keep her steady. At least she hoped so.
She took the cap off of the lens and shifted the camera up to her face. She snapped a few pictures of the city skyline. The familiar click of the camera calmed her nerves, and she let the rhythm of the pictures take over.
“Much easier to see the big picture from a bird’s eyes, but the aggregate doesn’t equal the individual. From up here you would assume everyone was happy and successfully living out a fairy tale. From down there you see the reality, the lie,” she told him.
Beckham was silent, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he judging her answer? Weighing it against his Visage rose-colored glasses? She knew her words weren’t a popular opinion among the wealthy, but she couldn’t forget the things she had seen.
“Are you not living the fairy tale, then?” he asked.
She looked at him over the lens of her camera and made a face. Hardly.
Despite the stirring of emotions about Beckham, she would not consider this life a fairy tale. Maybe it was every girl’s dream to live in a penthouse, have an unlimited credit card, and a closet full of designer clothes, but it was a cover-up. Beckham was not a shining prince on a white horse riding in to save her. The world they lived in was not a peaceful kingdom where all worries disappeared.
“If this were a fairy tale, there would be no need for a rebellion, would there?”
“Perhaps, but you are not part of any rebellion.”
“No,” she agreed.
She was a silent voice among countless other silent voices against the establishment. People with no energy to fight, no means to accomplish anything, and worst of all…no hope.
“So, tell me about this covert group, Elle, and how it relates to the rebellion. You said we would talk when we were up here,” she reminded him.
Beckham grumbled under his breath and turned back to look out at the city. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know, but if people think my images are part of Elle, I want to know what they think they stand for.”
“I’d rather you not know much,” he said into the breeze. “It’s safer that way.”
“Safer for who? You or me?”
“Both,” he said thoughtfully. “Everyone.”
Reyna blew out a frustrated breath. They were going nowhere fast with this line of conversation. It wasn’t as if she were part of the rebellion. She just wanted to know what the hell was going on out there.
“Well, what can I know?”
Beckham sighed. He was stalling, hoping she would change her mind, but she wasn’t about to do anything of the sort. She stared at him and waited.
After a moment, he seemed resigned to the task. “Don’t repeat anything I’m about to tell you. You already made quite a spectacle at the ball,” he told her. He waited until she nodded before continuing, “There are two factions among vampires. One is of the belief that humans are food.”
Their eyes met briefly and she blushed. She didn’t know why she would find that embarrassing. She should find it horrifying. Maybe she would find it more horrifying if he had bitten her or ever made her feel threatened in the least.
“We control the food.” He gestured to her. “And we shouldn’t have to limit ourselves. After all, we are supreme. We should be able to have whatever…whomever we want.” His eyes seemed to drink her in. “In fact, many believe it is a limitation to only drink from a blood type match.”
Reyna gasped. “But then wouldn’t you be…savage? You would kill people. No one would be safe.”
His eyes darkened and a scowl appeared on his face. “Yes. People would die. It would be the way it was before, but now with so much more power in the hands of the vampires. But this faction feels entitled to it. Vampires are the greater species, higher on the food chain, predators.” His voice took on a dark menacing tone. “You are no more than a fly caught in our web with no chance of escape.”
She couldn’t help but shudder at the bloodlust in his voice. She tried to laugh as if what he was saying didn’t affect her, but it came out strained and desperate. She hated to imagine a world like he described, where humans were crushed like ants under his boot.
“And the other faction?” she asked.
“Abide by the cure.” His fingers tightened on the railing. “Most vampires did not ask to be made into this…this monster. We were created. Forced to drink the blood of our maker, drained dry of our blood, and then left for dead to reawaken like this. The virus or curse, whatever you want to call it, inhabits our body and mind, crawls under our skin, and begs to be released against our will. It makes us want to be the first group.”
“But the blood type cure changed that, right?”
“Yes,” he said.
Which made her wonder all the more why he refused to drink from her. He didn’t seem like the animal he described. Shouldn’t he want to drink from her?
“To an extent, the cure curbs that tendency. It makes us almost human…makes us feel human. Alive, when we’ve been dead inside for so many years. Some enjoy that feeling and want to live beside humans without any more death, and some think it’s an abomination to want to be like a weaker species.”
A weaker species. Wow. Did he really think that?
“And you? Which faction do you fall into?”
His eyes found hers once more, and she was immediately lost into the dark depths. They were deceptively blank, yet entirely enticing. He took a step closer to her. She felt frozen in place.
“I’ve lived a shorter life than most of my kind. I can still remember the feel of being human,” he said, running his hand down her arm for emphasis. Goosebumps broke out on her skin. “But I can also vividly remember the feel of taking a human life.” His hand gripped her arm. “I’ve killed viciously, savagely, and enjoyed it. I’ve sought people out, tortured them, drove them mad just to kill them slowly through their insanity. I’ve done horrible things and enjoyed it, Reyna.”
The entire city was laid out before them. Where she had thought it was dark and silent, it was so clear now that it was bright and bustling. The buildings and streets were lit up to show the crisscrossed blueprint of the city.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yes,” he agreed. She felt his gaze sweep her face and wondered if they were talking about the same thing. “Yes, you are.”
Chapter 23
His words were like a dream. She wanted to respond, but she was worried she would wake up and the dream would dissolve into reality.
She couldn’t help herself. She turned her head and looked at Beckham. Their eyes locked and everything crystallized. Whatever had been going on between them was real. He might deny it. She might try to deny it. But she saw even in that brief moment that he felt something. A thread connected them, and all she wanted to do was tug on it and bring him closer.
“This is one of my favorite places in the city,” he told her.
“Why?”
She felt as if she could hardly breathe in his presence. No more than a foot was between them, but it was suddenly as if all the air had been sucked out of the sky.
“The city almost looks whole from up here.”
“And not from the streets?”
He circled the dew on the railing with his finger. “You know it doesn’t look whole from down there. You’re the one with the camera.”
At the mention of the camera, she suddenly remembered that was the whole purpose of the trip. The thread grew longer, pushing distance between them again. It was a bit of a tug-of-war, keeping up with the rawness of his shifting emotions.
To keep her face neutral, she dug into her bag and retrieved the camera. Putting a physical barrier between them should keep her steady. At least she hoped so.
She took the cap off of the lens and shifted the camera up to her face. She snapped a few pictures of the city skyline. The familiar click of the camera calmed her nerves, and she let the rhythm of the pictures take over.
“Much easier to see the big picture from a bird’s eyes, but the aggregate doesn’t equal the individual. From up here you would assume everyone was happy and successfully living out a fairy tale. From down there you see the reality, the lie,” she told him.
Beckham was silent, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he judging her answer? Weighing it against his Visage rose-colored glasses? She knew her words weren’t a popular opinion among the wealthy, but she couldn’t forget the things she had seen.
“Are you not living the fairy tale, then?” he asked.
She looked at him over the lens of her camera and made a face. Hardly.
Despite the stirring of emotions about Beckham, she would not consider this life a fairy tale. Maybe it was every girl’s dream to live in a penthouse, have an unlimited credit card, and a closet full of designer clothes, but it was a cover-up. Beckham was not a shining prince on a white horse riding in to save her. The world they lived in was not a peaceful kingdom where all worries disappeared.
“If this were a fairy tale, there would be no need for a rebellion, would there?”
“Perhaps, but you are not part of any rebellion.”
“No,” she agreed.
She was a silent voice among countless other silent voices against the establishment. People with no energy to fight, no means to accomplish anything, and worst of all…no hope.
“So, tell me about this covert group, Elle, and how it relates to the rebellion. You said we would talk when we were up here,” she reminded him.
Beckham grumbled under his breath and turned back to look out at the city. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know, but if people think my images are part of Elle, I want to know what they think they stand for.”
“I’d rather you not know much,” he said into the breeze. “It’s safer that way.”
“Safer for who? You or me?”
“Both,” he said thoughtfully. “Everyone.”
Reyna blew out a frustrated breath. They were going nowhere fast with this line of conversation. It wasn’t as if she were part of the rebellion. She just wanted to know what the hell was going on out there.
“Well, what can I know?”
Beckham sighed. He was stalling, hoping she would change her mind, but she wasn’t about to do anything of the sort. She stared at him and waited.
After a moment, he seemed resigned to the task. “Don’t repeat anything I’m about to tell you. You already made quite a spectacle at the ball,” he told her. He waited until she nodded before continuing, “There are two factions among vampires. One is of the belief that humans are food.”
Their eyes met briefly and she blushed. She didn’t know why she would find that embarrassing. She should find it horrifying. Maybe she would find it more horrifying if he had bitten her or ever made her feel threatened in the least.
“We control the food.” He gestured to her. “And we shouldn’t have to limit ourselves. After all, we are supreme. We should be able to have whatever…whomever we want.” His eyes seemed to drink her in. “In fact, many believe it is a limitation to only drink from a blood type match.”
Reyna gasped. “But then wouldn’t you be…savage? You would kill people. No one would be safe.”
His eyes darkened and a scowl appeared on his face. “Yes. People would die. It would be the way it was before, but now with so much more power in the hands of the vampires. But this faction feels entitled to it. Vampires are the greater species, higher on the food chain, predators.” His voice took on a dark menacing tone. “You are no more than a fly caught in our web with no chance of escape.”
She couldn’t help but shudder at the bloodlust in his voice. She tried to laugh as if what he was saying didn’t affect her, but it came out strained and desperate. She hated to imagine a world like he described, where humans were crushed like ants under his boot.
“And the other faction?” she asked.
“Abide by the cure.” His fingers tightened on the railing. “Most vampires did not ask to be made into this…this monster. We were created. Forced to drink the blood of our maker, drained dry of our blood, and then left for dead to reawaken like this. The virus or curse, whatever you want to call it, inhabits our body and mind, crawls under our skin, and begs to be released against our will. It makes us want to be the first group.”
“But the blood type cure changed that, right?”
“Yes,” he said.
Which made her wonder all the more why he refused to drink from her. He didn’t seem like the animal he described. Shouldn’t he want to drink from her?
“To an extent, the cure curbs that tendency. It makes us almost human…makes us feel human. Alive, when we’ve been dead inside for so many years. Some enjoy that feeling and want to live beside humans without any more death, and some think it’s an abomination to want to be like a weaker species.”
A weaker species. Wow. Did he really think that?
“And you? Which faction do you fall into?”
His eyes found hers once more, and she was immediately lost into the dark depths. They were deceptively blank, yet entirely enticing. He took a step closer to her. She felt frozen in place.
“I’ve lived a shorter life than most of my kind. I can still remember the feel of being human,” he said, running his hand down her arm for emphasis. Goosebumps broke out on her skin. “But I can also vividly remember the feel of taking a human life.” His hand gripped her arm. “I’ve killed viciously, savagely, and enjoyed it. I’ve sought people out, tortured them, drove them mad just to kill them slowly through their insanity. I’ve done horrible things and enjoyed it, Reyna.”
