The Heart's Ashes
Page 150
I can’t die; all I can do is suffer an eternal darkness without a body—a wandering soul, no longer connected to the world—like my coma, that horrible nightmare I never wanted to return to.
But life, now, without David, how is that any different?
How will I wake tomorrow and see the sun; what is the sun? What does it mean to me now if it will never mean holding hands with David, laying by the lake under the new summer foliage, or warming our cold hands in the light through the window over the piano.
He’s gone, and so is everything good this world had left in it; he met me at the gateway to eternity, and I lost him there—lost him for forever.
“Ara?” Mike came up out of nowhere, his voice softer than ever before. “Come on, baby, let’s get some clothes on you.”
Tears screened my eyes as I stared at the empty, unravelled, unused bed; it won’t smell like him now; it’ll be cold—the history of his skin against the sheets, absent, gone. It’s all so empty. So, so empty. The tears spilled over; each inch of skin they touched turned to death as they rolled past.
This is stupid. I can’t. I can’t live without him—I never could. “Mike?” I looked up at him, blinking as more tears fell. “Mike—you have to kill me.”
He stared ahead at the emptiness beyond my soul, and I let my tears flow, breathing the air that the smell of home forced my lungs to draw.
That’s it—there’s no more hope. Once, I owned the hope that maybe he was out there somewhere, waiting for me, looking for me, but now, I know. I know he’ll never smile at me again; he won’t walk around the corner and throw me on the bed, tickling me until I scream; I’ll never taste another cup of his perfect coffee, make love to him as my husband, or even have our first dance. It’s all gone now. Even the ring on his finger. Gone—no memento to keep. It was all just taken away. It’s just so cruel. An instant, and he vanished, forever.
His hand, as he stepped foot out of Jason’s car, and the way he smiled; if I’d known that was the last touch, I could’ve held on longer—kissed him, told him how much I love him, how sorry I am that I didn’t give up my life to be with him sooner.
I wanted to fall, to cry, but what good would it do? I can’t ever go to him; he’s gone, passed—wandering somewhere in the next life without me—a place Lilithians don’t go when they die.
A hand appeared in front of me. Unable to see through the tears, unable to breathe through the pain in my chest, I only made out the blurred, shifting image of something gold and round. “David asked me to keep these safe for him.”
The tears rolled down my face, as if maybe they didn’t belong to me, like I was watching them leave the eyes of the dead. My shaky, thin fingers rose to touch her hand, scooping as they did, a white-gold wedding band and a silver bangle with a moonstone at the centre; the last memory of David’s mother—now, the last memory of David.
Mike caught me as my knees buckled and carried me to the bed, my hands clutching tightly around the metal remains of my life.
“Mike?” Morgaine stood beside him, both of them towering over me. “She needs blood. We might have to—”
“No.” Eric touched Mike’s shoulder; I stared forward, numb. “Let me talk with her.”
Mike nodded and took a step back, allowing Eric to sit on the bed. He cradled me against his chest, my bare skin pressing against his warm silk shirt. “Amara. I’m going to make a little slit in my arm, and you’re going to drink from me, okay.”
“No.”
Eric rubbed his thumb across his brow, then slid both hands along the side of my face, clutching firmly. “I’m not joking, Ara. You are a vampire; you need to accept that.”
My tongue moved forward and wet my lips. I’m not ready to accept it.
Eric, without hesitation, took my silence as subordination, and stabbed his fingernail into his vein—deeply. The blood pulsed in one gush, and flowed out over his skin.
Without thinking, I placed the bangle and wedding band on the bed, and grabbed Eric’s arm. Like tasting the first sweet, sugary sip of hot cocoa in winter, Eric’s blood spilled into my mouth, flooding my lips and soothing the ache I didn’t know I had in my throat. My bony fingers lifted his arm higher so, with my head tilted back, I could gulp faster.
“That’s a good girl.” Eric gently stroked my hair and wiped the tears I cried for anger—anger for allowing myself to succumb to the craving—and the tears of relief, because I was home, safe, and because I loved the taste of blood, and even more, the blood of my friend, Eric. “Shh, that’s it, beautiful girl, just breathe,” he said, and as the wound healed shut under my lips, cutting my supply, I released my grip and looked up at Mike; he closed his mouth quickly and stood taller.
I didn’t want him to see that—to see me…feeding.
A smile mixed with awe and sympathy guarded Eric’s lips. “You’ll get used to it, Mike.” He tore his eyes away from me and looked at Mike. “She’s a vampire now. You can’t stop her from biting, anymore.”
And I apparently can’t stop myself from drinking blood, either. I folded my arms over my chest and looked down.
“Come on,” Mike offered. “You’re shivering. Time to get dressed.”
I stood up, tugging hard on his hand to get to my feet.
“Morg, hand me those clothes there?” Mike pointed to the chair by the wardrobe. “Thanks.” He caught them and slipped the sweater over my head. “Come on—slide your arms through,” he said, guiding each one. “Okay, sit.” He pushed me gently onto the bed and wriggled my feet through my underwear and tracksuit pants, then took my hand, stood me up, and shimmed them under the towel—pulling it away once my clothes covered me completely. “See? Magic.” He grinned.
“Bravo.” Eric clapped once. “You’ve done that before.”
“Well—” Mike stood tall and threw the towel over his shoulder, “—I grew up with her. I’ve had to do that quite a few times.”
I looked down, holding back a sheepish grin.
“Okay,” Morgaine said, “well, I’ll leave you guys to it. I need to get back to—”
“Morgaine.” I reached for her. “Tell me how to save them? The Immortal Damned. You said you’d tell me.”
But life, now, without David, how is that any different?
How will I wake tomorrow and see the sun; what is the sun? What does it mean to me now if it will never mean holding hands with David, laying by the lake under the new summer foliage, or warming our cold hands in the light through the window over the piano.
He’s gone, and so is everything good this world had left in it; he met me at the gateway to eternity, and I lost him there—lost him for forever.
“Ara?” Mike came up out of nowhere, his voice softer than ever before. “Come on, baby, let’s get some clothes on you.”
Tears screened my eyes as I stared at the empty, unravelled, unused bed; it won’t smell like him now; it’ll be cold—the history of his skin against the sheets, absent, gone. It’s all so empty. So, so empty. The tears spilled over; each inch of skin they touched turned to death as they rolled past.
This is stupid. I can’t. I can’t live without him—I never could. “Mike?” I looked up at him, blinking as more tears fell. “Mike—you have to kill me.”
He stared ahead at the emptiness beyond my soul, and I let my tears flow, breathing the air that the smell of home forced my lungs to draw.
That’s it—there’s no more hope. Once, I owned the hope that maybe he was out there somewhere, waiting for me, looking for me, but now, I know. I know he’ll never smile at me again; he won’t walk around the corner and throw me on the bed, tickling me until I scream; I’ll never taste another cup of his perfect coffee, make love to him as my husband, or even have our first dance. It’s all gone now. Even the ring on his finger. Gone—no memento to keep. It was all just taken away. It’s just so cruel. An instant, and he vanished, forever.
His hand, as he stepped foot out of Jason’s car, and the way he smiled; if I’d known that was the last touch, I could’ve held on longer—kissed him, told him how much I love him, how sorry I am that I didn’t give up my life to be with him sooner.
I wanted to fall, to cry, but what good would it do? I can’t ever go to him; he’s gone, passed—wandering somewhere in the next life without me—a place Lilithians don’t go when they die.
A hand appeared in front of me. Unable to see through the tears, unable to breathe through the pain in my chest, I only made out the blurred, shifting image of something gold and round. “David asked me to keep these safe for him.”
The tears rolled down my face, as if maybe they didn’t belong to me, like I was watching them leave the eyes of the dead. My shaky, thin fingers rose to touch her hand, scooping as they did, a white-gold wedding band and a silver bangle with a moonstone at the centre; the last memory of David’s mother—now, the last memory of David.
Mike caught me as my knees buckled and carried me to the bed, my hands clutching tightly around the metal remains of my life.
“Mike?” Morgaine stood beside him, both of them towering over me. “She needs blood. We might have to—”
“No.” Eric touched Mike’s shoulder; I stared forward, numb. “Let me talk with her.”
Mike nodded and took a step back, allowing Eric to sit on the bed. He cradled me against his chest, my bare skin pressing against his warm silk shirt. “Amara. I’m going to make a little slit in my arm, and you’re going to drink from me, okay.”
“No.”
Eric rubbed his thumb across his brow, then slid both hands along the side of my face, clutching firmly. “I’m not joking, Ara. You are a vampire; you need to accept that.”
My tongue moved forward and wet my lips. I’m not ready to accept it.
Eric, without hesitation, took my silence as subordination, and stabbed his fingernail into his vein—deeply. The blood pulsed in one gush, and flowed out over his skin.
Without thinking, I placed the bangle and wedding band on the bed, and grabbed Eric’s arm. Like tasting the first sweet, sugary sip of hot cocoa in winter, Eric’s blood spilled into my mouth, flooding my lips and soothing the ache I didn’t know I had in my throat. My bony fingers lifted his arm higher so, with my head tilted back, I could gulp faster.
“That’s a good girl.” Eric gently stroked my hair and wiped the tears I cried for anger—anger for allowing myself to succumb to the craving—and the tears of relief, because I was home, safe, and because I loved the taste of blood, and even more, the blood of my friend, Eric. “Shh, that’s it, beautiful girl, just breathe,” he said, and as the wound healed shut under my lips, cutting my supply, I released my grip and looked up at Mike; he closed his mouth quickly and stood taller.
I didn’t want him to see that—to see me…feeding.
A smile mixed with awe and sympathy guarded Eric’s lips. “You’ll get used to it, Mike.” He tore his eyes away from me and looked at Mike. “She’s a vampire now. You can’t stop her from biting, anymore.”
And I apparently can’t stop myself from drinking blood, either. I folded my arms over my chest and looked down.
“Come on,” Mike offered. “You’re shivering. Time to get dressed.”
I stood up, tugging hard on his hand to get to my feet.
“Morg, hand me those clothes there?” Mike pointed to the chair by the wardrobe. “Thanks.” He caught them and slipped the sweater over my head. “Come on—slide your arms through,” he said, guiding each one. “Okay, sit.” He pushed me gently onto the bed and wriggled my feet through my underwear and tracksuit pants, then took my hand, stood me up, and shimmed them under the towel—pulling it away once my clothes covered me completely. “See? Magic.” He grinned.
“Bravo.” Eric clapped once. “You’ve done that before.”
“Well—” Mike stood tall and threw the towel over his shoulder, “—I grew up with her. I’ve had to do that quite a few times.”
I looked down, holding back a sheepish grin.
“Okay,” Morgaine said, “well, I’ll leave you guys to it. I need to get back to—”
“Morgaine.” I reached for her. “Tell me how to save them? The Immortal Damned. You said you’d tell me.”
