“What do you mean?” Paul asked when she didn't continue.
Integrity shrugged. “There were several times when I'd go in there and there'd be someone with special needs in there--teenagers, adults. All the employees kept an eye on them if their caregivers had to leave.” She mused for a moment, missed the ball, and set her paddle down. “I remember one time there was a lady in there that had to be forty or fifty, but she couldn't talk at all. I think her sister was with her. The sister had her kneel down to play skee-ball because she was so tall.” Integrity poked the paddle with one finger, sliding it an inch or so across the green table. “When she got ready to leave, the guy behind the counter called out to her by name, and had her give him a high five. She showed him the prize she got, some stupid little plastic unicorn, and the guy got all excited about it and told her how cool it was and that he'd see her next week.” Integrity shrugged, still staring at the table top. “It just made me feel good that they can go somewhere and be so completely accepted, not shunned or stared at.”
“Sounds like a waste to me.”
Integrity spun around to see Evan sitting on the edge of the weight bench, elbows on knees, the bar back in place. She hadn't even noticed that he had stopped lifting. Instantly defensive, she asked, “What do you mean?”
Evan rose smoothly and walked across the room until he was standing uncomfortably close to her, his greater height played to full advantage. He gazed down at her steadily as he said, “Survival of the fittest. Why propagate weakness in your species? No wonder you're so easy to destroy.”
At first, Integrity had wanted to step back, regain her protective “bubble,” but his words angered her and she found herself standing straighter, leaning slightly toward him, as she spat back, “No wonder your species is so lacking in joy.”
“Being surround by those less than you brings you joy?” he asked quietly, dangerously. “Are you really so insecure?”
Integrity's hands hurt, she was clenching them so tight. “I enjoy being surrounded by those better than me, like that woman. If I wanted to be surrounded by those less than me, I'd spend more time with you,” she ground out.
“I would be careful about what you say,” he said, almost whispering now.
“Better to say what I mean than live a life without understanding,” she spat back, her voice lower now, too. “If you can't see people for what they truly are, for what they have to offer, it's your loss.” Integrity stalked past him, but stopped at the door and spun back. “I pity you,” she said solidly.
Evan laughed, bitterly. “Why in the world could you possibly pity me?”
Angered once again, she stalked back across the room, this time encroaching on his space. “Because,” she answered, “you'll never know what it's like to know someone so pure, so innocent. All you know is death and evil.” She stared at him for a moment more before repeating, “I pity you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Integrity glanced up from the book she was reading and saw Paul standing in her doorway. “Time for a rematch?” she asked, closing her book and setting it aside without waiting for a response.
Paul shook his head. “You have a guest.”
Integrity raised her eyebrows. “Who?” she asked, knowing neither Galia or Bowman would be introduced so formally. Paul made no verbal response, only stepping to the side and gesturing for her to precede him to the common living area. Integrity did so, still confused, but trusting that Paul would not let her walk into a trap unwarned.
Of all the people who could have been sitting there, waiting for her, she never would have expected the king. He looked completely at his ease, as though he were in his own quarters rather than Evan's. As she entered, he set down a knick-knack he had picked up from the fireplace mantle and gestured for her to sit. More confused than ever, forcing herself to ignore etiquette and everything that Mitchell, her etiquette teacher here at the castle, had bored into her, she sat before the ruler did. She clasped her hands in her lap, forcing herself not to tense up, and waited silently for him to speak.
The king sat down across from her and leaned back, completely relaxed. He glanced lazily around the room before speaking. “And how are things with you?” he asked, as though they spoke every day. Integrity had to swallow before she spoke.
“I am well, majesty,” she responded, keeping her voice carefully modulated and free from emotion, even as her thoughts raced. What the heck is he doing here? Am I going to have to fight again? Is he going to release me? Is he going to kill me?
The king lazily turned his attention on her. “Come now,” he said, almost companionably. “This is not as desirable as your own quarters, undoubtedly.” He winked at her conspiratorially, and she felt herself blush—he didn't look much older than Evan or Paul, only a year or two, although she knew he was infinitely older that appearances suggested. “I know Evan is not an easy one to live with.”
While she wanted to agree with the king's assessment, something warned her to restrain herself. “He has been a very kind and considerate host,” she rejoined, hoping she didn't sound as though she were disagreeing with the king.
“Kind?” A laugh of disbelief broke the word. “Evan?” He waited, then continued when she made no indication of retracting her statement. “Well, be that as it may, there must be something I can do to make your life more comfortable.”
“I have everything I require, majesty,” Integrity rejoined, sounding bland and automated.
He sat forward, slapping one hand down on his knee. “Come now, this won't do,” he said, sounding as though it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge into anger. She must have tensed or given some outward sign of stress because he studied her for a moment before leaning back in his chair and resuming his calm, unaffected voice. “Surely there is something I can do?”
Integrity was itching to ask him why he cared so much for her comfort, but knew that would be a foolish, possibly fatal, mistake. Starting to panic, she struggled through her murky thoughts, desperate for some request to make; the king obviously was not going to be appeased until she asked for something, and she wanted this interview to be over as quickly as possible. Finally, her mind alighted on something she could ask for, her freedom being ridiculously and wildly unreasonable. “I have been craving some potato chips, you majesty.”
The king's steely gaze, covered by his mask of unconcern, flashed to the hallway. Integrity heard movement and couldn't stop herself from looking. Paul was rising from a bow and moving swiftly toward the door. Understanding dawning on her, Integrity raised a hand and protested, “Oh, he doesn't have to go get them right now. I can wait.”
“Nonsense.” The king was becoming riled again—Integrity could hear it in the way he clipped the word so short. She turned her attention back to him quickly, clenching her hands back together. She could sense a frown in the man's eyes even as he smiled with the rest of his face. “One must do what one can to keep a person such as yourself happy.”
“A person like me?” Integrity asked before she could stop herself.
The king rested one index finger on his temple, his bent elbow on the armrest of the couch he was flung on, one leg extended the length of it. “It's not every day we have the Destine in our presence. We must do what we can to keep you happy.”
Integrity opened her mouth, even though she had nothing to say. She was grateful when Evan entered the room, breaking the necessity of her response.
Without looking at either of them, Evan crossed to the opposite side of the room where a bar stood. He walked behind it, retrieved a glass, and began pouring a liquid into it. Integrity turned back to the king as he called out, “So, Evan, I've been hearing tales about you.”
Evan raised his head an inch or two, instinctively, then seemed to regain control of himself and returned his head to its former position. Sounding only mildly interested, he responded, “Have you?”
“Yes, indeed. It seems that our guest feels you have been 'kind' and, what was that other word?�
�� The king turned to her, snapping his fingers as he searched for the missing phrase. “Ah, I remember. Considerate, wasn't it?” He was pointing at Integrity now.
The tension in the room was almost visible. While the king's words had been harmless enough, his tone had been painfully derisive, rude to the point that Integrity felt ashamed for having even heard him.
She didn't have to look to know that Evan would have his jaw clenched, nor was she surprised when he made no response.
She could hear the sound of glass being set down on a hard surface. The air felt too thick to breathe properly, like she'd just stepped off a plane in an extremely humid place after living in a desert her whole life.
She heard no more sound, but she saw the king's head turn out of her peripheral vision as she stared at her hands clasped in her lap. Evan left? Just like that? He walked out on the king? She felt taken aback. No one walked away from royalty without being excused. Mitchell had drilled that mantra into her head so often, she almost felt like it was a part of her now. But Evan had just done precisely that.
The results could not be good.
Є
Out of morbid curiosity, half expecting a contingent of hired guns to bust through the door and mow Evan down, Integrity found herself spending more time than usual in the common living area. Man, my life must be really boring if I'm itching for a good fight, she thought, butterflies bouncing off the walls of her stomach at the mere thought of such a confrontation. She scoffed at herself. Like you wouldn't run and hide in some deep dark corner the second it started.
Bowman came for another visit, neck brace still firmly in place, when Integrity was reading one afternoon. She set the book aside and greeted him with a smile. “What are you doing here?” she asked happily.
Glancing around to make sure they were alone, Bowman dropped into an armchair. “Ah, just tryin' to distract myself.” He put one finger in the top of the neck brace and strained to pull it away from his skin, turning his head side to side as much as he could. “I can't wait to get rid of this stinking thing.”
Integrity gave him a sympathetic smile. “I'm sure. How much longer until you get it off?”
He blew air out in frustration. “Who knows? And here June is. Stinkin' heat. Never can feel comfortable when it's hot out.”
Integrity wrinkled her nose. “Really? I thought vampires would like the heat. You know, kind of a pseudo-blood-high.”
Bowman grunted and pulled a face. “Nah, it's too artificial. It's like wanting to be warm from the inside, but you're getting burned from the outside, instead. That's why Westmarch is so far north.”
“Why don't you just move to Alaska?” she teased. Before Bowman could respond, she interrupted him. “Wait, did you say it's June?”
“Yup.”
Integrity felt deflated. “My high school graduation was May 25th,” she grumbled. “Great, I'm officially a high school dropout. I better start practicing: 'Do you want fries with that?'”
Bowman laughed, briefly. Integrity looked up in surprise. It wasn't often Bowman showed any emotion, let alone amusement. “What?” she asked, slightly self conscious.
“You've got nothin' to worry about. The Destine will never be working fast food.” He laughed again.
“Oh, how gorgeous,” she muttered, “I'll just be in solitary confinement for the rest of my life. Beautiful. At least at McDonald's I could get an ice cream cone.”
“And minimum wage, don't forget that little pearl,” Bowman poked back.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Can't you just let me sulk? Don't make me happy!” she reprimanded. She crossed her arms petulantly across her chest, sinking lower on the couch. “Can a girl at least get her GED? Sure, it's still embarrassing, but at least I wouldn't be a complete failure.”
The sparkle that lurked in Bowman's eyes faded. “Girlie, you know we can't do that,” he said gently. “How're we supposed to take you to a test site and explain your sudden reappearance in the land of the living? And then take you away again?” Suddenly uncomfortable, Bowman cleared his throat and looked away. “'Sides, like I said, you don't need no stupid diploma. You're set for life.”
“Or death,” she deadpanned. “Maybe I can get a Bachelor's in undead studies. What do you think?”
“Not such a great major. Too lifeless,” he said seriously.
Є
Integrity slowly surfaced from her deep sleep, the room pitch black. She shifted, then sat up quickly and began feeling around her mattress with both hands. “Kellin?” she called, her voice clogged with with sleep. “Kellin?” she repeated, more urgently now.
Staggering, she stumbled off the bed and across the room to her light switch, flicking it on. The bright light hurt her eyes—she could barely open them. No Kellin, and her door was firmly shut.
She threw the door open and staggered out. The light in the hallway was off, but one table lamp had been left lit in the common living area. She hurried down the hall, more awake now, and searched the living room feverishly. No dog. She spun and started back down the hallway, checking around the corner into the kitchen. Without hesitation, she tried the doorknob of the mystery room, but it didn't turn. She returned down the hallway, the sounds of violin music growing louder.
She'd heard the violin the whole time—it was probably what had woken her in the first place—but she only now became aware of it. She stopped in the hallway, torn. The only place she hadn't checked was Evan's room. Paul and Bowman were both absent, so that left her with only one recourse for answers, one she didn't want to consider.
Her heartbeat seemed to mimic the pace of the song being played, one that had a Celtic flavor to it, covered by the powerful emotions weaved into the melody. She took a steadying breath, raised her fist, and forced herself to knock firmly, though she only managed to rap twice. She jerked her hand back as though she had been burned. The music stopped instantly.
She strained her ears to hear his approach, but the blood rushing past her eardrums caused static. The door swung open swiftly; Evan loomed in the doorway. She took a step back.
He was holding a violin by it's neck in one hand, the bow sticking out at an angle from the same grip. His other hand held the edge of the door, as though he were prepared to swing it shut in her face at a moment's notice. “What?” he barked at her. She flinched.
“I-I,” she stammered, “can't find Kellin.” She wanted to continue, but fell silent at the look on Evan's face. Unexpectedly, he turned and headed deeper into the room, leaving the door open between them. He walked out of the range of her view. Extremely uncomfortable, not knowing what he might be doing, Integrity stepped forward into the room so she could peer around the door and watch his movements.
Though she wasted no energy in studying his room, she felt a weight pressing down on her and noticed that everything from the walls to the furniture was dark of hue. She bit her bottom lip, watching Evan set the violin in a black case, followed by the bow. He closed the case, latching it as he turned his head, not looking at her, and said, “Sit down.” There was no welcome in his tone, but neither was there overt hostility. If anything, he sounded weary.
Feeling weary herself, while still unsettled, Integrity walked across the room, striving to be silent, and sat in the black leather armchair furthest from him. It was uncomfortably hard.
Evan turned back to her and leaned against the low dresser that held his violin case, pulling the black brace back into place on his hand. He held something long and black in one hand, tapping the opposite side onto his open palm. He exhaled slowly, though almost silently.
Nervous, Integrity asked, “What's that?” She pointed at the thing in his hands.
Evan glanced down, almost as though he had forgotten he was holding anything at all. He laughed, not pleasantly. “What do you think it is? A black jack?”
Integrity shrugged, her pulse rate increasing once more.
Evan studied her face for a moment, his amusement slowly melting away. He crossed the room
toward her, and she found she had nowhere to retreat to. He stopped several steps away from her and held it out. She found herself incapable of taking it. “It's a shoulder rest,” he sighed, tossing it onto the end table to her right. Integrity glanced at it briefly, saw the curved appendages she assumed would hold onto the body of the violin. When Evan moved, she hurriedly turned her gaze back to him.
Pulling at matching chair so it faced her, though keeping more than the normal distance between them, Evan sat down and rubbed his face. “All right,” he said, dropping his hands, “what's the deal?”
Feeling foolish, but unable to come up with a reasonable excuse for pounding on his door in the middle of the night, Integrity fidgeted, pulling at her ring finger. She shrugged and studied her hands, sounding defensive even to her own ears as she said, “I had a bad dream and I couldn't find Kellin when I woke up.” She refused to speak or look up until he said something.
Finally, he said, “You know, you've really gotta quit dreaming about me.”
She looked at him and frowned. “I'm serious,” she said, “I'm worried about Kellin.”
“What did you dream?” he asked, all attempts at levity put aside.
She shook her head. “It doesn't matter! Where is he?”
“He's fine,” Evan replied, sounding almost surprised at her outburst. “Do you seriously think we'd hurt him?”
“You are vampires,” she grumbled, knowing in her heart that they wouldn't hurt Kellin, but still unhappy. “That doesn't mean he won't get lost, or hurt.”
Evan sat back in his chair and sighed, rubbing his index finger across his lower lip once. After a moment, he seemed to reach a decision and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “All right, I'll make you a deal. Tell me your dream, and I'll show you something.”
She snorted. “What, the Rice Krispies in the kitchen? Nice try.”
He almost smiled, or so she thought. “No. Something out of here.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Out of my rooms.”
Evan: Book Two of the Destine Series Page 14