by A. M. Hudson
“Everything all right, my lady?” Arthur’s smiling face met mine at the base of the stairs, his eyes warm, as if he’d smelled me coming around the corner from a mile away.
“I'm okay,” I said, but knew it wasn’t convincing. I crossed my arms and walked past him. “G’night, Arthur.”
“I was just headed down to the kitchen,” his suggestive tone rose an octave. “I hear they have popcorn in the pantry. Would you like to watch a film with me tonight?”
I stopped walking, smiling to myself before turning around. “Did you just hear me talking to Mike?”
He grinned, looking at his feet, his blue eyes sparkling under those thick lashes. “Maybe. But I was planning to watch something anyway. I’d like the company.”
I huffed. “Yeah. Okay. I’d love to.”
He held out his hand, and I took it, instantly feeling better—a little less…lonely.
“You’re a good friend, Arthur.”
He smiled to himself as we wandered slowly down the stairs. “I know.”
And it was pleasant. Turns out he and I like all the same movies, too. I even quizzed him a few times just to see if he was lying. But he passed every time.
“Okay, so you say you liked Kate and Leopold. Why?” I said, while Arthur, sitting beside me, scrolled through the files on his iPad.
“Leopold reminds me of myself, I guess, in many ways.”
“And Kate?”
He smiled at the screen resting on his knee. “I like her boisterous personality. She’s not like other girls and, as hideous an attribute as that can be, it is also incredibly charming.”
I settled back on his pillow and dusted some popcorn and salt off my shirt. “So, what are we watching next?”
“New one. Not even released in cinemas yet.”
I sat up a little when he tilted the screen to show me. “Oh, my God. You film pirate.”
He smiled. “Actually, this was given to me by the producer himself. We’re good friends.”
“Okay then.” I sat back. “Does he know you’re a vampire?”
“No.”
“How do you know him?”
“Met at a convention.” He shrugged, closing the case on his iPad after pressing play; the movie stared on the LCD at the foot of his bed, and a tickle of excitement charged my skin. I’d actually been waiting for this movie to come out for two years.
“This is really cool, Arthur.”
“What is?”
I hooked my arm around his and rested my head on his bony shoulder. “This—the movie, the big screen—even that thing you play the movie through.”
“Apple TV?”
“Yeah. That’s really cool.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“Do you think I can get a TV in my room?”
“My dear—” He kissed the top of my head and covered my shoulder with his blanket. “I'm sure you can have whatever you want.”
“Even a piano?”
“Yes, especially that.”
“Cool.”
By the time the credits rolled on the third film of the night, I was so sleepy I didn't even bother to walk down the hall to my own bed. I snuggled up safely next to my good friend, and he leaned down, rolled my shoes off my feet, tucked me up tightly and switched out the lamp. The next thing I felt was cool lips on my brow, then the absence of Arthur’s energy as I let myself slip away.
At some ungodly hour, the sound of snoring pulled me from restful slumber. I sat up, rolled the thick blankets back and hopped out of bed. Arthur was miles away in dreamland, his head cocked awkwardly to one side, a thin blanket pulled up to his chin, and his feet propped on a stool across from the armchair he was sleeping in.
I sighed, brushed his thick dark hair back and kissed his head, then grabbed my shoes and left, closing the door behind me.
“Morning, Quaid,” I said, when he stood from his lean on the wall and started down the hall after me.
“Morning, Queen Ara. Sleep well?”
I glanced back at him. “Why are you laughing at me?”
“No reason.”
“I didn't sleep with him, if that’s why you’re implying.”
“Nope.” His dark face was almost red with humour. “Only that Mike’s gonna spit chips when he finds out.”
I huffed, stopping in the middle of the corridor. “Don't tell him. Simple.”
“Stop disappearing on me, and I won't tell him.”
“Not a chance.” I took off walking again. “You’re too easy to get away from.”
“Yes, but, I get in trouble when I lose you.”
“Then get better at not losing me.” I smirked, slamming my bedroom door on him.
The morning crept along the treetops outside my window, but in here, it was still quite dark and peaceful. I slipped into bed and snuggled down into my soft mattress, hugged warmly by the weight of my quilt, which, for some reason smelled like David. And just like Arthur’s grandfather clock, the one on the wall across my room ticked, a steady beat to ensure time was passing, but as I slipped beyond the realm of wake, it slowed down and I felt kind of weightless, hooking my hand under my pillow to stay grounded.
Jason stared back at me from a memory; his green eyes so full of life, so vibrant and bright, as if his soul held all the purity in the world. “I miss you, Jase,” I whispered, but my breath came back in my own face, thick with the putrid scent of beef or rotting flesh. “Ew!” I looked up, and Jason’s green eyes became the cool blue gaze of my marshmallow pal, sitting by my bed, his inquisitive stare probing me to wake. “What, Petey?” I sat up a bit, rubbing my face. “It’s early, boy. What’d ya want?”
He lowered his head to the floor and came back up with something delicate and silver in his mouth. I reached out and touched his head; his fur was cold and a little moist with dew.
“What is it? What ya got?” I said in my best get-excited-we’re-going-walkies voice.
Petey nuzzled my hand, making me open it, then released the slimy silver string into my palm, and my eyes grew inside my head, becoming wider to take in what I only thought I saw. “Where did you get this?”
He didn't answer.
I looked back at my hand and gently flipped the trinket over, sure only once I saw an inscription in French that this was my locket. My heart. The silver representation of my attachment to David.
“Petey,” I said with a little more urgency. “Where did you get this?”
He got to his feet, as if someone had just grabbed his lead, and wagged his tail, making his whole body sway with the movement. I threw my covers back and stood up, drying the locket on my leg. There was no way he could have found this here at Loslilian—unless Arthur had it. Maybe Jason gave it to him to give back to me. Maybe Petey found it and knew it was mine.
But Petey’s sudden excitement and the fact that he bolted out my balcony door and stood on his hind legs, paws on the railing, whimpering and licking his chops, filled me with a tiny bubble of hope.
“What’s out there, boy?” I looked across the treetops to the grassy field. “Is it him? Is he here?”
He barked, dropping his paws to the ground, then ran to my bedroom door.
I pocketed the locket and followed him, hesitant but shaking with excitement.
My fingers wrapped the handle slowly. There was no way Jason could be alive. No way. I saw him die. I watched him fade. I…I threw dirt on his face.
The handle grated in the turn, and I became ultra aware of each breath, rolling the door slowly toward me, closing my eyes for fear I’d see nothing there.
“Rolf!” Petey brushed past my leg, knocking me into the doorframe, and ran down the hall—disappearing around the stairwell.
“Petey? Wait.”
He didn't wait.
“You okay?” Quaid asked.
“Ur, yeah.” I blinked a few times, discreetly checking every square inch of the corridor. “Was…did you see anyone out here?”
“Nope. Why?”
“Oh. No
reason.”
He looked to where Petey had run. “That dog’s mad, Ara. He probably just ran off ‘cause he needed some private time.”
“Yeah. Probably.” I shut the door and leaned against it, my heart thumping in my throat, then reached into my pocket and pulled out the locket. I never thought I’d see it again. A part of me never wanted to see it again. I guess I hoped Jason had taken it to his grave with him—forever to hold a part of my heart.
Huffing silently, I looked down at my bare feet and jeans, then flattened my hair with my hands a little. I needed to follow Petey, which meant I needed to give Quaid the slip.
I opened my door again. “Quaid?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you do me a huge favour?”
“Uh, maybe…” He stood taller, looking around. “I am on duty, so, I can't leave my post. But what is it?”
“Um.” I screwed my face up as if this was awkward for me. “I kinda just got that girlie time of the month.”
Quaid went totally stiff, wide eyes and all. “Oh. Right.”
“Yeah, um, and…I don't have any tampons.” Ha! An embarrassed man. I love it. “Could you maybe go down to the Medic room and get me some?”
His eyes shifted to the end of the corridor then back to his feet, anywhere but my face. “I…you know I'm not s’posed to leave you.”
“I’ll stay right here. I swear. In fact, I’ll be in the shower—” I looked down, keeping half my body hidden behind the door. “I can't go anywhere while I have blood dripping down my legs.”
And that was enough for Quaid. I’d never seen black skin go so white. He turned stiffly away, taking wide steps down the corridor.
I ran back to my bathroom, twisted the shower taps on and locked the door, closing it behind me, then left a note telling Quaid to leave the tampons on my dresser.
Petey appeared in my doorway, his head angled like a curious puppy.
“Don't judge, Petey. You’d have done the same.”
He gave a high-pitched groan and turned away, his tail knocking my door into the wall, as if to open it further—inviting me along. And without a second more thought, I grabbed my cardigan and followed him. Hopefully, Quaid wouldn’t call through the bathroom wall to ask if I was all right. If I knew Quaid like I thought I did, he wouldn't. He’d be too afraid my answer might be descriptive.
Petey trotted down the quiet, empty corridors, and I scaled along behind him, keeping close to the wall, making up excuses in my head as to why I might be wandering around at this hour, should anyone catch me. But I owned the breath of relief I took when we reached the Great Hall and tiptoed over the shiny wood floors, past the partially-set breakfast table and into the garden, unnoticed.
Staff were busy all around the manor; the gardener was trimming roses, the maids were obviously dressing in their rooms on the ground floor and there were several people at the far end of the manor, carrying boxes, walking up and down the stone steps leading to the kitchen. Breakfast wafted out through that door with the homely warmth of bacon and stewed apples. My stomach groaned, but my heart jumped with anticipation as I followed my furry friend through the dirt path between the trees of the forest and came upon the field.
It was empty. I squinted against the morning sun to see the tree, and though the base was darkened by dawn’s shadow still, I was sure no one was sitting there. Petey, however, was not convinced. He charged forward, and I followed, glad I hadn’t been sucked into the enchanted forest. The sun was probably high enough now to class this as morning, not dawn. Either that or the forest saw me as a welcome wanderer, given that I was One with Mother Nature now.
“Petey?” I called. “Wait for me.”
He was fast, the little bugger, and in my weakened state, still recovering from the headaches, I’d lost some of my ability to run. I came up on the tree, huffing and puffing, and folded over to grasp my knees.
“Outrun by a dog?” a humoured voice said.
My mouth popped open and I rolled incredibly slow to stand, my eyes wrapping in tearful disbelief around dark hair, intense green eyes and a smile that could melt a glacier. “Jason?”
“In the flesh.” He flashed a grin.
He looked so sassy and so boyish, leaning against the tree in a pinstripe jersey and a blue Yankees cap. I didn't know he was a Yankees fan.
“What surprises you more?” he said, holding his shirt out from his chest a little. “That I'm alive, or that I'm a Yankees fan?”
My shaking hand rose slowly to cover to my lips. “What are you…how are you…?”
“Whoa.” He rushed in, scooping me into his arms before my buckling knees sent me to the ground. “It’s okay. It’s all right.”
“No.” I cried into his collar, cupping my hand around his neck, running my thumb over his hair at the back just to see if he was real. “You’re dead. I watched you die.”
He squeezed me a little tighter. “I know. I'm sorry you had to see that.”
“But…I…” He smelled so normal, like a human; no orange chocolate, just powdery fabric softener and a light hint of some spicy cologne, and it was the most darling scent in the world. My human version of David. “What are you doing here?”
“Well,” he said, his voice vibrating through his throat against my brow. “I got a very heartbreaking call from a strange number.”
I sobbed a little harder.
He laughed and continued. “And, I mean, what could I say to that? I shouldn’t be here, and quite frankly, my uncle will probably give me a beating for this.” He half laughed. “But I needed to be with you. That phone call just cemented it.”
I rolled my face upward to look into his radiant, shining green eyes. “I thought I’d get voicemail.”
“I know. I heard, and I also heard the pain in your soul through only the whisper of your voice.” His eyes seemed distant then, like he was remembering something—something that hurt really badly. “I know my being here stuffs up everyone’s plans, but I couldn't leave you alone any longer.”
“Where have you been? What…how are you alive?”
He smiled—his secret smile. “I was never dead, Ara. I had to fake my death so Drake couldn’t order me to hurt you again. Now that you’re queen, only you can do that, and even then…” He shook his head, smiling down at me.
“So…but, the venom?” I looked at his chest, where the syringe had gone in.
“Created venom.” He smirked.
My world rocked back—everything going blurry and ultimately still. “Holy crap!”
He laughed. “Damn needle broke off in my chest, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He tapped it. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to get that thing out by myself?”
“Were you…” I pictured the way he was laying; the way breath left his body and he stilled, as though he had no life left, and the way I said goodbye, accused him of being the worst kind of monster. In fact, I'm pretty sure I may have even condemned him to Hell. But it was all kind of fuzzy. “Could you hear what was said once you…fainted?”
He grabbed my hand and held it softly. “It’s okay, Ara. I tortured you, beat you, made you cry—” His voice quivered. “Anything you said or did to me after that was fair.”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn't. You helped me. You…you saved me from so much worse.”
He stroked my chin with his thumb. “It’s all over now, sweet girl. Nothing like that will ever happen to you again.”
I nodded, cupping my hand over his against my cheek. “Does Arthur know you’re alive?”
“Yes.”
My mouth fell open, dry, my lips numb.
“He couldn’t tell you, Ara.”
“Why?”
“A few reasons.”
“Like?”
“Well, for one…” He let out a breath. “I've not even shown you a quarter of the things I'm capable of. Drake knows many of my powers, many of which could have, all this time, helped him get to you. If I was alive, h
e would’ve compelled me to grab you.” He looked over his shoulder, motioning to the field. “Look how easy it was for me to get in here. No one has a clue. I could’ve come here many times, and no one would’ve known.”
“Did you? Come here, I mean.” I wiped my nose with the back of my wrist.
Jason shook his head. “No, sweet girl. I wanted to, but that would, and I guess has, ruined Arthur’s diabolical plan.”
“He has a plan?”
“He always has a plan.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Has he asked you to have a child with him yet?”
“Um…” I blinked a few extra times. “Yes. Why?”
He laughed, shaking his head, and wandered over to our tree. “How did you react to that?”
“How did you know he was going to ask?”
“Because that’s one of the reasons he’s here.” He slid down the bark and sat in the long grass, still kind of laughing.
“To have a baby with me?”
“Yep.”
“Is that just because he wants to be free—you know, ‘cause he wants the prophecy to happen?”
“That’s one of my conclusions, but…I suppose he never told you he was sent here by Drake, did he?”
“No. He left that bit out.”
“Gee, I wonder why.”
“Are you serious? Was he really sent here on a mission to impregnate me?”
Jason laughed. “For one, yes. But also to find something.”
“What?”
“The Dagger of Yahanna.”
“Death? Yahanna means death, in the ancient language, right?”
“Right. You’ve been studying.”
“No.” I sat down beside him. “I just know a few words.”
“Well, yes, he’s after this dagger—forged from the bone of an original and spelled on the Stone of Truth.”
“What does Drake want it for?”
“It’s the only way to kill your child.”
“What?”
“If he kills this child created of two immortals, all the power the child is born with will negotiate to him.”
“And, so, he asked Arthur to father this child, then hand it and the dagger over so he could kill it?”
Jason nodded, grinning.
“Arthur would never do that!”