A Light in the Dusk

by K J Sutton

  Silence falls between us like an axe. As I wait for Drew’s reaction, I forget how to breathe. Then… he kisses me again. While I’m still catching my breath, angles his neck so it’s bared right next to my fangs. There’s no fear or disdain in his face as he says, “Do it.”

  Still, even as my nostrils flare with desire, I hesitate. There are so many reasons this is a bad idea. “What about the puncture marks? They’ll know—”

  “I’ll wear shirts with collars,” Drew insists, tugging me closer. “Or keep a jacket on. It’s okay, Charlie. Let me do this.”

  He arches his neck again, effectively putting it closer to my mouth. Damn him. Damn me. Because I know I’m not going to walk away like I should.

  Deciding to trust Andrew Hayes is like stepping into the dark, not knowing if the ground is close or dozens of stories below. I waver, knowing that if we do this, there’s no going back.

  After a moment, Drew must think I’m rejecting him, because he sighs. I smell his apple-sweet breath a moment later, and with that, the last of my resistance crumbles.

  I push myself into him. As I skim my mouth along his shoulder, Drew reaches down between my legs and finishes what he started. In a burst of need, I sink my fangs into the tender skin between his neck and shoulder—it’ll make hiding the marks easier—and Drew’s fingers go still as he absorbs the shock of my bite. Less than two seconds later, though, he recovers and renews his efforts. I moan as I drink, pleasure coursing through me.

  I know the instant Drew senses the effects of my venom, and feels some pleasure of his own, because he lets out a faintly surprised sound. I couldn’t say anything even if I wanted to—the familiar feeling of orgasm is already beginning to build inside me.

  A beat later, it reaches a violent release, traveling down my legs, curling my toes. For a moment or two, all I see is red.

  Coming down from it is like thinking clearly again after a high. I open my eyes slowly, and the first thing I see is the fresh bite on Drew, which is still bleeding. As the echoes of my release fade, I search for something to staunch it. I spot my shower towel, hanging on the doorknob, and get up to retrieve it. God, it’s been so long since I’ve fed like this. It feels like I could jump into space, swim across an ocean, climb the tallest mountain.

  I cross the room again and hold out the towel to Drew. He takes it with a sweet, grateful smile, and presses it against the marks. I sink down beside him. “Of course you’d be AB-negative,” I say after a moment, watching Drew put pressure on the bite.

  He tilts his head. “What does that mean?”

  “Your blood type only occurs in one percent of humans, Drew,” I tell him. I can tell from the slightly changed scent of his blood that it’s already not coming as freely now.

  Drew checks the towel and comes to the same conclusion. He sets it against his knee and raises his eyebrows at me. “So what I hear you saying is… I’m special.”

  “Yeah. You are.” Of its own volition, my voice softens. Drew is like a light in the dusk. A spot of warmth that makes facing this harsh new reality a bit easier. Even sex with him feels different—like more.

  The bed creaks as we lay on our sides at the same time, facing each other. From this angle, in this slant of light, I can only see one side of Drew’s face, glowing in the moon’s luminescence.

  As the night goes on, as the sky gradually lightens, Drew and I talk. We confess our fears and profess our hopes. He tells me more jokes and I relive the night of my Awakening. Finally, just as daylight nears and my head feels light with exhaustion, Drew takes a breath as though he’s about to dive into frigid water.

  “I… really like you, Charlotte Travesty,” he says, a touch of apprehension hidden in the shadows of his voice.

  Fear fills my own throat—there are so many reasons I shouldn’t say it back. But I can’t repay his kindness with a lie, can’t bring myself to replace the light in his eyes with darkness. “And I really like you, Andrew Hayes,” I murmur.

  His eyes flick between mine. Then, unable to stand the thickness in the air, Drew starts to lick the smattering of freckles on top of my left shoulder. Bites into me with a soft nibble. I giggle, my eyes fluttering. Drew presses his forehead to mine, and after that, neither of us speak again. We both drift into sleep like we’re on a raft, riding a dreaming sea, and there’s nothing ahead but open skies and blue horizon.

  As always, bad dreams come and go. This time is different, though—through them all, there’s Drew. Breathing softly beside me. Touching me. Making it easier to battle the darkness, as though he lends me strength just by being near.

  Gradually, the room begins to lighten and pull me from my restless slumber. Drew wakes, too—I hear the change in his breathing. His eyelashes flutter, then his lavender eyes meet mine. “Better go,” he whispers, brushing a kiss across my forehead.

  As Drew pulls away, slipping across the space to return to his own, I smile. He smiles back one more time before closing the door behind him, and I stare at it even after he’s gone. Wondering how long I can make this last. Wondering how long I can be selfish with him.

  And I don’t like the answers.

  Days pass.

  For the first time in my life, time is structured. I wake up at dusk. I help Ada with breakfast. I go down into the sewers and empty rat traps. I head to Rowan’s with Nina and Drew. He and I wait until our group is distracted, then sneak touches under the table. We walk home beneath a starry sky, our hands brushing, and talk. About everything. Anything. Whatever else he may be, Drew Hayes is my friend.

  A friend that has snuck into my bed every night this week.

  Somehow, despite my status as a Lavender, despite all that happened to lead me here, I feel moments of… happiness.

  Especially considering there’s no sign of Noah. If there are any more weeper attacks, as the letter promised, word doesn’t reach the public. Maybe Noah found the terrorist and the case is closed. I wouldn’t put it past him not to tell me—he’s made it clear that, in his eyes, I’m nothing.

  On Saturday night, I wake before my alarm. I’m alone, of course, since Drew returns to his own bed in the middle of the day, when everyone else is in a deep sleep. The sun is melting, leaving behind a city covered in liquid gold. Yawning, I stand up, stretch my arms toward the ceiling, and creak my way across the floor. I heave a sigh and shuffle to the door—it’s my day to shower.

  And the routine begins.

  After breakfast, Drew and Nina shout at me through the kitchen door. I hasten to dry my hands and grab my coat. As I move, there’s an undeniable skip to my step, partly due to the boy waiting for me at the bottom of the porch steps, but mostly due to the fact that I’d fed on him hours earlier.

  Though Drew doesn’t touch me when I reach his side, I see how much he wants to within the depths of his pretty eyes. My own lips quirk in response. A moment later, Nina shouts something back at us—thankfully, her words are drowned out by the rumble of a passing truck—and we hurry to catch up. The bustle of Oldbel fills my ears as we run.

  Within minutes, we’re arriving at the warehouse, walking down the barren hallway to reach our weapons. With a gallant bow, Drew hands me the sword I’ve gotten used to carrying. Back down the hallway we go, then into the main room. We get our suits from the lockers and move to the center of the concrete floor.

  Bill’s voice drones through the loudspeakers. Once again, I studiously avoid looking up at his glass cage, worried he’ll ask for a report on the weeper investigation. As the alarms blare, everyone rushes toward the elevators. Thankfully, the rattle of the cage doesn’t bother me as much anymore. My pulse still ticks faster, but I no longer imagine the elevator plummeting and killing all of us.

  The cage jolts to a stop and I let out a breath. Once everyone has piled into the tunnel, I look around for Gulshan. She’s nowhere in sight, and a frown begins to pull at my mouth. Did she get tired of working with the Lavender? Should I just get started without her?

  I turn, thinking to find D
rew or Nina, but the object of my thoughts stands right behind me, grinning. “Wait, we’re working together?” I ask with raised eyebrows, my stomach fluttering. “I’ve been partnered with Gulshan every day since…”

  Since Lucas. I still have trouble thinking about that night.

  “She paid me three silvers to take her place,” Drew says with a regretful shake of his head. Before I can punch him, he winks. “Just kiddin’. I bribed Bill to change the assignment.”

  “And why haven’t you done this before? What makes tonight so special?”

  Drew gives me a playful glare. “To be perfectly frank, Charlie, I was expecting a little more joyous squealing.”

  I smile. As we start walking, though, I shoot him a meaningful glance. “Well, you are better than some of the people I’ve been stuck with lately.”

  As he does every time Noah comes up in conversation, Drew scowls.

  The tunnels are colder today and the constant dampness doesn’t help the chill in my bones. I clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering and walk quickly.

  Drew follows me down the tunnel Gulshan and I usually clear, humming under his breath. “So I’ve never asked… how did you and Nina end up here? In the sewer sector, I mean,” I ask. We’re close enough that I don’t feel awkward asking questions, as I did with Lucas when we first met.

  Though Drew’s voice is steady, there’s still a lilt of sadness to it as he answers, “Oh. I guess we haven’t. It’s not a great story or anything—Nina and I grew up in one of the New Ve orphanages. Someone left us on the doorstep when we were babies.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmur, keeping pace beside him as we walk deeper into the sewer.

  “Thanks, Charlie.” Though the words are sincere, there’s a slight downturn of Drew’s lips and his eyes are missing their usual twinkle. I wish I hadn’t brought it up, and I’m about to change the subject when he adds, “Anyway, Nina had some… behavioral issues. To make ends meet, sometimes the Matron sold the kids least likely to be adopted. Not that there are a lot of citizens looking to have more mouths to feed, in the first place, but you can see the logic, right? That’s how Bill bought us when I was fourteen. Nina was thirteen.”

  “You’ve been down here that long?” I whisper, shocked.

  But Drew doesn’t answer this time. He pauses at a crosspoint, glancing both ways before crouching. He pulls out what looks like a hunting knife and drags it across the dirt until it hits metal.

  I stop beside him and watch. “Uh, what are you doing?”

  “This is part of the drainage system for one of the main streets,” Drew explains. “Not only are weepers dangerous, but they’re messy. Half of the blockages we clean up are from them.”

  “From them doing what?” I ask, though I’m not sure I really want the answer.

  “Think about it. Their bodies are rotting from the inside. They are basically walking corpses.”

  “So they shed like a snake? Lovely,” I remark dryly.

  Drew stands, chuckling. The solemn feeling around us dissipates. “You get used to it. They also kill each other sometimes, so there are bodies in the systems we have to clear out.”

  Suddenly I’m glad I skipped breakfast.

  As Drew goes on, and we walk deeper into the Earth’s stomach, I find myself longing for Sul now more than ever. For green eyes instead of lavender ones. For a different life.

  It could be worse, I think. I suppose I should consider myself lucky that the king didn’t put me on the wall or kill me on sight.

  A moment later, Drew and I reach another clogged waterway that’s on our to-do list—it’s a mass of diapers, I see with dismay—and get to work. As Drew threatens to poke me with his hook, the end of it covered in sopping diapers, I wonder if there’s ever been a more romantic date than this.

  By the end of our shift, I can’t leave the tunnels fast enough. We arrive at the lockers and I rush to change out of the reeking green jumpsuit. “You guys hear about the riot over in Las Prinix?” a fairy asks, leaning against Nina’s locker farther down. His greasy hair hangs to his collarbone. Nina arrives and shoves him out of the way.

  “News to me,” Drew says, raising his brows in a wordless question.

  “One of vamps who died in the attack at Rowan’s was a rich brat from Lancaster. Some of his siblings are getting everyone stirred up. They say they’re getting tired of throwing funerals instead of parties. Scratch that, they’re getting tired of the crown not doing anything about the breaches.”

  “What?” I say before I can stop myself. “The crown is doing something—it’s our job to stop them from getting into the city, right?”

  I realize, even before Nina starts scowling, that it sounds like I’m defending the Travestys’ actions. Anything I say now will either sound like a lie or an excuse.

  “Sure, but then we’d have to admit that we aren’t doing a very solid job,” a new voice says. Well, not a new voice—the man who spoke has been here since I started working in the sector, but I haven’t heard him say anything before. There’s something striking about him. He has long black hair, tied back in a loose bun at the nape of his neck, and dark stubble along his jaw. His eyes are lavender, like the rest of us, and his nose is slightly crooked as if it’s been broken before.

  “Shut up, Leo,” Nina mutters. “We’re doing the best we can with the shitty resources we’re given. If they want better protection, they can give us better weapons. Or, hell, they could actually train the workers they send down here.”

  Perturbed by the conversation, I wind a scarf around my neck, zip up my leather jacket, and walk toward the exit. Even now, I keep my gaze firmly on the ground, desperate to avoid another conversation with Bill. Drew falls into step beside me, and I give him a grateful smile when he doesn’t bring up the riots, or the weepers, or the Travestys.

  As we step outside, the air is full of exhaust and the swirling breaths of people heading home. I bend my head against the bitter autumn air and fight toward Rowan’s, Drew’s arm brushing mine every few seconds in a burst of welcome warmth. We don’t look at each other, but I’m aware of his every breath, his every step.

  When we finally arrive at the bar, the music is so loud I can feel it in my veins, pumping through me alongside Drew’s blood. I pull off my jacket and hand it to Drew when he offers to check it. “Thanks,” I shout over the music. “Meet you at our table?”

  He nods. “I’ll grab drinks on my way back. What’s your poison tonight?”

  “Bloody Mary,” I say with a grin.

  “Coming right up. See you in a minute,” he says, then walks toward the coat check.

  As I turn to head for our table, my eyes catch those of a blue-haired fairy. She’s grinding against a human male, who’s a very willing participant. Before I can look away, she leans over and sticks her tongue out. The boy doesn’t even react when she runs it from the length of his chin to his temple, leaving a gleaming trail of slobber on his skin.

  Fairies, I think disdainfully. It’s a city of freaks, and their king is a sociopathic vampire. What could go wrong with that combination?

  Moving through the crowd, I spot a pair of bird-like shapeshifters dancing in the center of the room. People have gathered around them, clapping and laughing as they toss back their drinks. I push past and finally reach our table, happy to have a seat away from the mass of hot, sweaty bodies writhing against each other on the dance floor.

  My eyes scan the room until they land on some familiar faces. Nina, Benjamin, Gulshan, and Leo are dancing together, all of them trying to make conversation over the music—they must’ve been right behind us when we came in. I catch sight of Drew, then, leaning over the bar and speaking to the tall, vampire bartender. She grins at him as if she’d like nothing more than to suck him dry, and when I see that, my own fangs slide free from my gums. A growl rumbles in my throat.

  “Easy there,” an amused voice says, and then Noah slides into the seat across from me.

  I keep my eyes on Drew a
nd the bartender while she makes the drinks he ordered. “Where have you been?” I mutter at Noah. “I was starting to think you were ghosting on Bill.”

  “Sometimes hunting is a waiting game. When you lose sight of your prey, you sit quietly and wait for it to think everything is safe. You’ve fucked him,” Noah adds suddenly. When my gaze flies back to his face, the vampire licks his lips, his eyes on me instead of Drew. “You’ve tasted his blood, as well. I didn’t think you had it in you, princess.”

  I feel my eyes narrow. “How the hell—”

  “I can smell him all over you. Which means others can, too. Tell me, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “Do you really care?” I snap.

  Noah leans across the table. “I’m curious. Did he make you come?”

  My mouth goes dry and my cheeks are suddenly on fire. “You’re disgusting. Why the hell would I answer that?”

  His eyes flick between mine, shining with a combination of amusement and want. Before he can say anything else that will make me punch his annoyingly chiseled face, Drew approaches the table.

  “What’s going on over here?” he asks, setting our drinks on the table. His voice is calm, but his jaw is sharp, his expression assessing.

  “Nothing,” I say too quickly. “Noah was just leaving.”

  The bounty hunter flashes a fanged grin at Drew. “Actually—”

  “Goodbye,” I say firmly.

  Noah rolls his eyes and gets up in one smooth motion. “Good luck with this whole thing,” he says, gesturing between us. “If you end up on the wall, at least I’ll be down two names on my suspect list.”

  Drew steps toward him, tension filling his body, making his back unnervingly straight. I stand quickly and grab the back of his shirt. “Drew, don’t bother.”

  “Yes, human. Sit down like a good little boy.”

  Drew opens his mouth to respond, but before he can utter a word, the room erupts in gasps. Someone turns down the music.

  At first, I think it’s in reaction to the obvious brawl that’s about to erupt between Noah and Drew, but then I see everyone has their eyes glued to the screen usually reserved for televised sporting events. Instead of eleven heavily muscled subspecies in skin-tight outfits, there’s Danielle Winter holding up a distorted piece of parchment. I squint to make out the letters. When I do, my stomach drops.