Paul nodded silently to Evan, then said, “I call.” Paul laid his hand down neatly, revealing three twos. Evan slammed his own hand down in frustration. Paul scooped the chips toward him, the smallest smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
Integrity leaned forward and reached toward Evan's cards. “What did you have that you'd risk having to babysit me?” She began flipping the cards over one at a time, then whistled. “A pair of queens? No wonder you risked something so awful.”
“Like another devastatingly handsome vampire, I suppose I'll just have to endure,” he responded dramatically. Integrity couldn't help but laugh.
“At least your precious ego hasn't been harmed in the process,” she rejoined, shaking her head. She grabbed one of her remaining chips and flipped it at him. “Well, the least I can do is pay for your services. Maybe you'll be less cranky if you're getting paid the going rate.”
Evan smiled wryly as he picked up the chip, then quickly wiped the expression from his face. “This hand better be low stakes,” he said as he gathered the cards and began shuffling them.
Є
“What's this?” Integrity asked, pulling her hair through the elastic to finish her standard morning ponytail. “I didn't order room service.”
Evan walked over to the high table and set the tray down. He pulled the silver cover off, revealing a plate with eggs “over easy.” Integrity walked over and sat, sniffing appreciatively at the food. “Paul shines again,” she said, saying a quick prayer in her head before she started eating.
Evan sat in the chair across from her. “Aren't we bright and chipper this morning?” Integrity was in such a good mood, she didn't even care. She stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed the toast to dip in the yolk. She made an appreciative noise as she bit into it. “Paul didn't cook that, you know,” Evan said.
“Oh? Is Bowman here? I didn't know he cooked.” She dipped the toast in her egg again, carrying it swiftly to her mouth before it could drip.
“I haven't the faintest clue whether or not Bowman cooks. I do, though.” Evan rested his braced hand on the table near the wall, leaning back in his chair.
Integrity stopped with the toast halfway to her mouth. “Do I dare eat this? Is there arsenic in it? Maybe Ex-Lax?”
Evan's bottom lip jutted out slightly. “Not a bad idea, but, no, the eggs are safe.”
“What about the toast?” Integrity looked at it askance.
“Shut up and eat your breakfast. It's not every day I cook for someone.”
Integrity shrugged and continued eating, knowing that Evan wasn't likely to poison her. Where did that thought come from? Since when do you trust Evan? The realization that she didn't think he was out to hurt her brought her up short for a moment, but she was quick to continue eating, hoping he hadn't noticed her hesitation. Trying to appear unaffected, she said casually, “I have to say, these are pretty good eggs. And you didn't even break the yolks. No easy feat.” She clapped silently for him.
Evan wrinkled his nose. “I did break the yolks.”
Integrity laughed once. “How many?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
“Let's just say it's a good thing Paul's making a grocery run.”
Head cocked to one side, Integrity asked, “Paul left?” before taking another bite. Mouth still full, she said, “I was wondering what I did to deserve you for a chef.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Evan replied, mock offense hovering over his words.
“Well...” She shrugged noncommittally.
Evan reached unexpectedly across the table and grabbed a piece of toast. He ripped off a piece, shoved it in her egg yolk, said, “Paul did win the bet. He just chose to use his time to get you food.” Evan popped the piece of toast, then pulled a horrible face. “Yeck.”
“Hey, keep your hands to yourself if you don't like eggs,” she said, wrapping one arm protectively around her plate.
“They're my eggs, remember?” he countered. “Besides, I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I still don't get it. They taste like sawdust.”
“Well, I'm sorry they're not made of blood. Maybe then you'd like them more.” Her words cast a sudden pall over the lighthearted banter they had been sharing. Silence swooped in, hovering suffocatingly. She shifted uncomfortably, cleared her throat. “So why did Paul have to call in his bet to go grocery shopping? He's gone before.”
“Actually, he hasn't.” Evan pulled his hand off of the table, the brace sounding very solid against the surface. “He's been sneaking food from the kitchen, but it's only a matter of time before someone notices. One child doesn't eat that much, after all.”
“One child?” Integrity asked, pushing her empty plate away from her and picking up her glass of orange juice.
“There's a child at Westmarch right now,” Evan said, fiddling casually with the cover that had rested on her plate. “A boy.” Integrity thought Evan's eyebrows lowered slightly, but she couldn't be sure.
“I take it he's a vampire baby?”
Evan laughed once, almost bitterly. “I guess you could say that. Although, he's eight.”
“And vampire kids eat food?” Integrity could feel that her forehead was wrinkled. She worried momentarily that Evan would shut down and stop answering her questions, thinking she was just being a pest, but she wanted to understand. She'd never really thought about vampire children before, though she remembered Galia saying they were rare.
“Vampire children are technically mortal, no different from any other child,” Evan said, turning his attention from the table to her once more. His tone of voice was that of someone explaining a math problem or why the sky is blue; there was no shame, embarrassment, or defensiveness, nor was there any real interest or any indication that her reaction mattered to him. Facts were facts, and he was simply stating them.
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Integrity said, raising one hand as she shook her head. “How can vampires have mortal children? You're not mortal. That's like an elephant giving birth to a tiger or something.”
“Wait, am I the elephant or the tiger?” Evan asked.
“Oh, shut up and explain this to me. I don't get it!” Integrity felt like she was treading water in a dark sea, unable to see what might be lurking beneath her while telling herself the whole time that she was being stupid and paranoid. That didn't stop her from waiting to feel something slimy brush against her leg, though. She took another sip of orange juice.
Evan smiled slightly, dangerously close to smirking. “Vampires don't give birth to their children. It's more of a test-tube-baby-surrogate-mother situation.”
“And how exactly do you find surrogate mothers for vampires? The want ads?”
He laughed again. “You always make things way more complicated than they have to be. We go through an agency just like anyone else would.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “We just don't tell them we're undead.”
“Oh, well, that's good,” she whispered back sarcastically. “Most women probably don't want to know they're carrying the spawn of Satan.”
“Ouch,” Evan replied, leaning back and grasping his chest.
Pressing forward, ignoring his theatrics, Integrity said, “So, if they kids are mortal, do they grow up and die like everyone else? Is that why they're so rare?”
Evan shook his head. “We can stop the aging process and change the children to Undead.”
“You bite them?” She was confused again.
“No, not our children.” He raised one eyebrow. “Would you want to kill a child you'd raised for twenty years or so?”
“No, but I'm not a vampire. Thus, I don't understand your world and what's acceptable. So, is there an age limit? Does it have to be when they're around twenty?”
Evan shook his head. “It can be done whenever, but the early twenties seem to be the best option. Who wants to be eternally old? And undead children are a liability, to say the least.”
“Why are they a liability?”
“All of the angst of growing up frozen in time forever? Temper tantrums with no fear of pain or death? They're exceedingly hard to control, even if anyone had the heart to discipline them.”
“The heart?” She sounded disbelieving. “When did we go from the spawn of Satan to Oprah?”
Suddenly serious, he said, “Don't credit us with something we don't have. Children are rare, and are, therefore, spoiled and coddled. It's not compassion or parental love—it's the thrill of contact with the uncommon. Nothing more.” He broke eye contact with her, and she tracked his Adam's apple as he swallowed. Still not looking at her, he stood. “If you're finished, I'll take your dishes.” He gestured at the plate, silverware, and glass before her.
“Don't worry about it,” she said, harsher than she meant to. “I can take care of it.”
Evan placed the lid back on the tray and lifted it before she could protest. “I'm under strict orders from Paul to be polite. A gentleman would never expect a guest to wash her own cutlery.” He looked at her, not quite meeting her eyes, and gave her a small smile before turning and leaving the room.
What haunted Integrity was that the only way she could describe that smile was sad.
Є
Later that day, Integrity followed Galia around and made token efforts to help her clean, but she felt too happy to focus. “I swear sometimes I think I'm bi-polar,” she told Galia as she tossed her dust rag back toward the cleaning supply bucket. She missed horribly and walked over to pick it up with a shrug.
“Since when is being happy a bad thing?” Galia asked, straightening some books in Evan's study. “What happened to make you so happy, anyway? If I didn't know any better, I'd think it was all about a boy.” Galia froze, her hand suspended in the air clutching a heavy book. She turned to look at Integrity. “It's not a boy, is it?”
Integrity laughed at the concern in her friend's voice. “Hmm, let's see,” she said, tapping her chin with one finger. “Considering the only guys I ever see are Paul, who's like an annoying older brother, Bowman, who's the world's biggest grouch (not to mention way too old for me), and Evan, who's Evan, I think we can safely say it's not a guy.”
Galia turned back to the bookcase, carefully concealing her face. “I didn't think it was. You and Evan don't exactly mesh, after all.”
Integrity laughed lightly. “No, we're not compatible in the slightest. Although,” she mused, suddenly serious, “he was actually nice today.” Brushing it aside, she assumed her flippant attitude once more. “That's just 'cuz Paul made him, though.”
“And since when has Paul been able to make Evan do anything? Since when has anyone been able to make Evan do anything?” Galia countered with a teasing smile. “There may be hope yet. You might not kill each other. I should warn the gambling pool to change their odds.”
“Ha ha,” Integrity said sarcastically, placing a pen precisely parallel with the blotter on which it lay. “Trust me, I'd still take the guy out the first chance I got.” Integrity frowned, hearing the lack of fire in her own voice, knowing Galia would hear it, as well.
Continuing seamlessly with her work, Galia commented, “I've always found it interesting that the more you know of a person, the harder it is to hate said person.” She shot a quick glance at Integrity, then bent over and grabbed a spray bottle of cleanser from her supplies. “Living with a person displays both their strengths and weaknesses. I suppose it makes the person appear more real.”
“Evan has plenty of traits to hate,” Integrity said, suddenly defensive.
“Undoubtedly,” Galia said calmly. She remained silent, not elaborating, but Integrity could tell there was more she wished to say.
“But?” Integrity prompted, not really sure she wanted to have this conversation at all. The man had killed her parents, regardless of his motives. There was no room for forgiveness for him. God will forgive who He will forgive, but you're required to forgive all men. She shoved the thought roughly aside.
“In my own experience,” Galia continued cautiously, “the more you learn of a person, the more of truth you see. No one is all bad, no matter how much we might want them to be.”
“And how many people have you lived with?” Integrity rebutted, thinking of Galia's private room that Integrity had sought refuge in so many months ago.
Seeming to read her mind, Galia said, “Most of the slaves of Westmarch live in large, communal rooms. Lock enough women together for any length of time, and chaos will ensue.” Galia shrugged. “I suppose I'm merely trying to convey to you that it's perfectly natural to lose some of the anger we feel toward someone we are forced to spend copious amounts of time with.”
“I wouldn't say Evan and I spend 'copious' amounts of time together,” Integrity grumbled, scuffed her foot along the thick carpet under her feet.
Galia crossed the room and touched Integrity lightly on her arm, the chill from her fingers shocking to Integrity. Looking at her steadily, Galia said, “Integrity, don't fight to hold on to something that only brings you pain and unhappiness.” She smiled at her, and let her hand fall back to her side. “I enjoy seeing you happy. Don't feel guilt because you have learned to cope with an unpleasant situation.”
“I guess you can get desensitized to anything,” Integrity said.
Galia gathered her supplies and moved to the door. “All that's left is Evan's room. Will you come with me today?”
Integrity snorted. “Yeah, right. Just because I might not kill him at the first opportunity doesn't mean that he wouldn't kill me for going in his room. Besides, you're never in there for very long, anyway.”
Galia tilted her head to one side. “True,” she said. “It never takes long to clean for someone who never sleeps.”
“I thought the 'upper-class' were the only ones who sleep?” Integrity asked, following Galia into the hallway.
“Not all of them. Some find other things to entertain them.” Galia flashed Integrity a mischievous smile before ducking into Evan's room. Integrity stared after her for a moment, frowning, then went into her room across the hall.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Hey, you!” Integrity called cheerfully as she caught a glimpse of Galia in the hallway outside her room. “How long have you been here?” She rose and walked toward Galia.
Galia shrugged. “For a bit.” She gestured to the closed door across the hallway. “I only have Evan's room left, and then it is off to my many other duties.” She sighed dramatically, though she was still restrained, as usual.
Integrity wanted to frown, but she forced herself not to. It frustrated the crap out of her that Galia still didn't feel comfortable seeking Integrity out. Helping Galia clean was a welcome break from the monotony of her life, and she hated to miss the chance to chat with another girl. She suspected that Galia's reticence was due to decades of living in such a strict caste system, but she still didn't like it. Dragging herself back to the present, Integrity said, “Well, when you're done, will you come help me with something? I've got a little project in mind.”
“Certainly. Give me a brief moment, and I will join you.” Galia turned and entered the room across the hall, knowing that there was no hope of convincing Integrity to follow her. The glimpse of the room beyond made Integrity withdraw inside herself. She muttered something about a cave as she went back into her room and swung the door shut, though she didn't latch the door. She refused to think about why she did so when she rarely closed her door at all.
Turning back to her bed, Integrity took a steadying breath and proceeded to rip the comforter, top sheet, and pillows off the mattress, letting them fall onto the floor in a pile. She was grasping the mattress, tugging it to the opposite side, when Galia entered behind her.
“Integrity? Is there a problem with your bedding? I changed it earlier, but I will be happy to fetch different linens if you so desire.”
Integrity straightened, leaving one corner of the mattress hanging off the box springs, and pushed her hair out of her face. “No, there's noth
ing wrong with the bedding. I just gotta get rid of this bed frame.”
Galia looked at the antique cherry wood, immaculately cared for and polished. “You desire a different bed?” she questioned, sounding slightly confused. “I'm sure that can be arranged, but should we not wait--”
Integrity cut her off. “No, I don't want a bed at all.” She started tugging on the mattress again, amazed at how heavy it was. “Kellin can't get up here, or get off, without a lot of coaxing or me actually lifting him, and I'm sick of it.” She gave up trying to shift the bed by herself. “Since I'm the only one who sleeps here, he whines and scratches at the bed and won't let me sleep unless he's up here with me. It'll just be easier if the mattress is directly on the floor.”
Having heard his name, Kellin came cautiously into the room, head down and front paws rising high, like a well bred show horse. Galia trailed the tips of her fingers across his head distractedly, then flinched and pulled away. “Would you prefer a set of steps for him to climb? I am sure I could locate some with little difficulty.”
Integrity smiled. “Thanks, but I don't think he'd use them. He's too freaky about that kind of stuff. I mean, look at him.” She waved toward the dog, who still stood at Galia's side. “He heard me moving stuff, so he won't even come in here because he doesn't want to crash into anything.” Seeing that Galia was not convinced, Integrity laughed and walked toward her. “I promise, I don't mind not have a headboard.”
Galia hesitated for a moment, then nodded decisively. “As you wish.” She moved to the opposite side of the bed, careful to not step on the linens crumpled there, and grasped the edge of the mattress. “Toward you?” Integrity nodded, and the two lifted the mattress off the box springs, shifted it, and leaned it upright against the far wall. They rested for a moment, then moved on to the box springs and accomplished the same. As Integrity took a moment to catch her breath, Galia studied the bolts holding the frame together. “I must retrieve a set of hex keys,” she said, turning back to Integrity. “I will return in a few minutes.”
Evan: Book Two of the Destine Series Page 11