Revelation

by Tanith Frost

  It’s enough that I know she’s okay. She looks as if she’s doing well. And if believing she’ll see me in heaven helps her get by, I won’t let the truth of my situation destroy her.

  I approach my grave after they’re gone and pick up the rose, squeezing the stem tight. A single thorn pierces my skin, biting deep. When I let go, a thick bead of dull, lifeless blood wells up on my palm.

  Love is pain. And it’s weakness, especially in my world. But it’s also what soothes the pain, builds us up, and makes us stronger. Love makes us vulnerable and exposes us to the possibility of harm, but it’s also the safe place we run to when the world is otherwise cold and hard.

  And it’s what Lachlan wants to strip from the world, along with everything else that threatens him by encroaching on the void or leaving space for the vulnerability he so despises.

  I let the thorn prick me again, allowing myself to feel the pain, bringing back the memories I’ve been suppressing for the sake of survival. I see the faces of those I’ve cared for since my death. Vampires who may not be the strongest members of their clan but still have so much to offer. Werewolves who took me in and sheltered me even though they should have hated me. A dragon who lowered himself and took human form so I wouldn’t feel so alone. A human who has turned out to be so much stronger than I give her kind credit for. I care about them all even when we’re at odds.

  Most of their powers don’t benefit me directly. They might even weaken the void, and Lachlan and Bethany are right—that makes them the enemy of vampire strength. But they have given me so much otherwise, grounding me, calling me on my bullshit, and helping me see things in ways I never could on my own.

  My fire swirls, little more than embers. I miss its warmth. And I know I shouldn’t need it, but I feel stronger when I’m aware of it.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, and set the rose back on the ground.

  The clan that has offered to embrace me and give me everything I desire is also the one that would destroy anyone who opposes it or doesn’t add to Tempest’s strength. And if I become the monster I truly believe I’m meant to be, if Tempest wins and fulfills Lachlan’s vision for the world, humanity will learn about what lurks in the shadows, and they will suffer for it. I might survive, even thrive. But for what?

  If I follow the path Lachlan offers, I’ll help create a world where hate and indifference are the only way to survive, where love is a weapon and power the only thing that matters.

  What’s the point of being nearly immortal if one doesn’t have a purpose? Randolph’s words. He found his in creation and beauty even though everything I know about vampires says we were made for chaos.

  I glance up at the statue again.

  Angel. Demon. Neither. Both.

  I was made for darkness, but I still get to choose my purpose. Do I exist to serve myself or something larger?

  It’s as if a spell has been broken and I’m waking from a dream. I can see clearly, if only for the moment, and this clarity threatens to tear me apart.

  I could become Ava, dark and terrible as a midnight hurricane. She’s in me, waiting to be chosen. Maybe she brings about her own end through her greed and cruelty, but by God she’ll grab every moment she has before then by the throat, sucking it dry and hunting for more. She may very well be my destiny.

  But like Gideon, I can choose. I’ll never be an angel, but I could remain Aviva, foolishly fighting for a world that offers less to her and other vampires, choosing to love in spite of the pain it brings, embracing the strength that comes from that weakness, choosing companionship, freedom, vulnerability, and compassion over the cold comfort of power. It’s a foolish choice, especially now. Lachlan will catch Aviva in a lie. She has no chance of making it out of Tempest.

  Stupid. Suicidal. So why can’t I kill her?

  I wipe my tears dry and regain my composure.

  There’s only one vampire I want to talk to about this. A good liar, and one who’s survived for longer in Tempest than I have. He might help me set right what Gracie has thrown out of balance. Even if he turns me in to ensure his own survival, it might be worth it if I gain peace of mind before they tear me apart.

  19

  Everything has changed.

  The portraits on the walls, once refined and impressive, now seem to leer, their dark, glittering eyes following me as I pass. The bone chandeliers and sconces that seemed a fitting tribute to our state of animated death now feel like a threat to everything that dares to spit in our faces by remaining alive. The gold and mother-of-pearl, the tapestries, the polished floors, even the fancy clothing… all of it seems brittle now, a fragile veneer meant to disguise an uglier truth that lurks beneath. The void is every bit as compelling as it was before, but now I’m frightened of it.

  Of myself. Because the void—the bloodlust, the pain, the hate, and the anger that feel so good when they overtake me—is undeniably what I am.

  I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want to be like the vampires who watch as I pass, taking in my dirt-stained clothing. Calculating. Judging. They’re afraid, too, though not as I am. Every new face is a potential threat to their position in the clan, a tool to be used or defended against. It’s all part of Lachlan’s plan. He gives them so much but will never truly care for them. Their place here depends on performance, power, perfection.

  I wanted to see the truth, but now I regret that wish. It’s as though I slipped on a pair of gold-tinted glasses the night Lachlan ordered that I should be brought up to join the higher vampires of Tempest—glasses that blocked not light, but darkness, and cast a shimmering glow over every sight that passed through them. I agreed to give Tempest a chance, to explore with my eyes open, and I saw wonders. I went to the graveyard tonight hoping to make this vision permanent. Wanting to see more, to see even the darkest aspects of this existence and find them beautiful. Instead, my glasses have been knocked askew, and now I’m Dorothy, seeing the Emerald City as it truly is.

  And it’s… empty. Meaningless.

  Panic flutters in my stomach, urging me to put those gold-tinted lenses back on. I could convince myself I never went to that graveyard and have no reason to question. Ava is still here, eager to see the ugliness as beauty and to embrace it as her own. It would be easier to be her, more comfortable, and far safer. I’d have to confess to Lachlan, of course—tell him everything that really happened before I left Maelstrom, give him the information he wants, and beg for mercy. He might punish me, but it would also be a sign of the true change in me. And if he wants that badly to wield my power…

  My chest squeezes painfully as I spot Daniel coming toward me. He’s dressed in his work clothes, walking away from the garden, head down, ignoring everyone.

  Ava screams at me to let all of it go, especially him. But I can’t. Because Aviva is still in here with me, insisting that the past I’m trying to kill is worth saving.

  The rope I’ve been balancing on is a razor-fine thread.

  We’re about to pass each other before he glances up. I can’t say anything. Can’t even acknowledge him if someone might see it. But in the second when he makes eye contact with me, I open myself. I let my pain and confusion rise, hoping we haven’t lost so much that he can’t see that I need him.

  He’s not giving me anything. There’s no nod, no encouragement. He grits his teeth and looks away.

  I do the same as though he’s beneath me. My steps don’t falter as I continue toward the garden.

  I want to turn the lights off, but it’s better if it looks as if no one is in here. So I continue walking, following every twisted branch of the path until I’m certain I’m alone, then settle at the back of the room under the shelter of a weeping willow tree. The ground beneath is soft, mossy, and welcoming as I sink down onto it.

  I wait. And wait.

  He’s not coming. Either he didn’t get the message, he ignored it, or he had to be somewhere else and couldn’t disobey. He—

  The dangling branches part like a curtain, and Daniel ste
ps through. I didn’t hear or feel him. He hooks his thumbs in his pockets and looks down at me. “You’re a mess.”

  “You have no idea.” I swallow hard and take a long, slow breath. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Sure.” He sits beside me, forearms resting on his knees. We’re not touching. Daniel’s never been the comforting type, but I want so badly to feel his arms around me. To feel like old times.

  This was a mistake.

  And yet I can’t bring myself to walk away.

  Neither of us says anything else for a minute. I know what I want to say, but I’m afraid. If I tell him the truth, he could turn me in. Trusting him feels dangerously like hope.

  I close my eyes and breathe in the heavy, damp air of the garden.

  Someone has to be brave enough to risk everything.

  “You were right about what it would take to survive here,” I say, keeping my voice just above a whisper even though I know we’re alone.

  He doesn’t look at me. “You brought me here to tell me I was right?”

  “No. To ask how you killed the Daniel I knew. Who I loved. Who I think loved me, too.”

  His face betrays nothing. “Maybe that Daniel was the lie. You saw what you wanted to.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Have it your way.” His words say he doesn’t care, but he speaks through clenched teeth.

  “Fine,” I say. “If you won’t be honest, I will. I’m struggling. I see what I could become here, and it’s tempting. And it’s been easier than I expected. More rewarding.” My voice is growing thick and heavy. “But I still find myself wondering what the point is of survival if it means creating a world that gives me almost everything but denies me the one thing I want.”

  Daniel snorts half-heartedly. “Love? A fairy-tale ending?” The scornful bite in his voice is unconvincing.

  “Choice. Or rather, freedom.” I risk leaning in and brushing his arm with mine, and an electric shiver passes over my skin. Silence cocoons us as I allow the past to come back to me. Only for a moment, but it’s enough for me to see what I’ve forced myself to become willfully blind to. “You offered me that, once. When my training seemed to have hit a dead end, you encouraged me to be myself rather than trying to fit the mould. That couldn’t happen here. Tempest would have seen my weakness and exploited it for their entertainment—or just put me out of my misery.”

  I’m only understanding this as I speak it. Lachlan says I was stolen away from him, that if he’d known about me, he’d have seen me trained properly in a clan of his choosing. It’s not true, though. He didn’t see how I struggled after my death and how it took a friend like Trixie to help me accept my fate. He doesn’t know that it was my lingering humanity and my compassion for them that led to me discovering my void-given gifts.

  I never would have made it that far in Tempest—or with any trainer but Daniel in Maelstrom. He knew me well enough to understand that crushing my weakness wouldn’t work. It had to be turned into strength.

  These thoughts are treason, and Ava screams at me to shut them away. She’s doing the job I created her for, knowing that survival depends on blindness.

  “Do you regret it?” I ask.

  “Regret is pointless.” Daniel rubs a hand down over his face.

  “What isn’t pointless, then?” I fix my gaze on him until he turns to look at me. “Tell me. In this place you’ve reached where you feel nothing for me, where you’ve forgotten your old loyalties and taught yourself to hate everything you once served, what matters? What keeps you fighting for survival when they put you in that ring? I need to know there’s something there on the other side of letting go.”

  “This is a dangerous conversation,” Daniel says.

  “Please.”

  “Fine. I don’t know why I fight. As for how I got to where I am…” He looks away. “I came here as a defeated enemy and quickly learned what it means to be the victim of their lust for pain and suffering. Even after Bethany decided I should be physically spared so she could study the void in me, they found other ways to make me suffer.”

  I lay a hand on his arm. “If you don’t want to talk about that part—”

  His hard glare cuts me off. “I don’t. But you came with questions, and I’m giving you answers. Do you know what a vampire’s body can endure? We’re not like humans. We don’t bleed out or die from shock. A vampire can be mutilated, torn apart, starved, burned, crushed, impaled slowly so she has plenty of time to pray that the stake makes it to her heart or that the pain drives her mad.”

  Daniel’s voice is flat, but there’s anger simmering below the surface that tells me these aren’t hypothetical notions.

  “Your team.”

  “I saw them tortured. Vampires I’d trained to hunt enemies. I thought they were too strong to break. I was supposed to protect…” He swallows hard. “Andreas. Pietro. Vera. Hugo… Their screams kept me awake for weeks. I realized that caring was only making it worse for them. Lachlan and the others were enjoying my pain as much as anyone’s. So I took their fun away by refusing to feel anything, though I managed to take comfort from it when I learned every member of my crew had been released to oblivion.” He chokes out a laugh. “My first victory here, really.”

  Deep pain tugs at my heart. Vampires are survivors, willing to do almost anything to avoid facing the end of everything. I understand, though. Oblivion can be a mercy. Daniel couldn’t save the others, but he ended their pain by hardening himself to it.

  All it cost was his heart.

  And this is what I want to become the queen of. Pain. Suffering. Pleasure and power not earned, but taken by force. It sounded reasonable—desirable, even—when Lachlan talked about it, when in my mind I stood by his side, deserving and untouchable.

  I don’t want to kill the part of myself that knows this is wrong. And I don’t want this to be all that’s available to us. I want the world where Daniel fought by my side, each of us willing to fall if it meant the other survived. It didn’t seem like weakness at the time. It was bravery. Ultimate strength, both of us willing to sacrifice our very existence for the sake of the other.

  “I taught myself to feel nothing but hate,” he says, drawing me back out of my thoughts. “And the more I hated, the more I realized it was exactly what would make me desirable to them as more than a test subject. I began to believe I’d eventually find favour here. I existed night to night, sometimes moment to moment, telling myself that the world outside these walls was dead to me and any memories were an illusion. I killed while I fed, and I let myself enjoy it. And after a while, it all felt right. Natural, as though I was in harmony with the void in a way I had never known was possible.”

  “I feel that, too,” I whisper. “It’s like a dream—one you don’t want to wake up from even if it should seem like a nightmare.”

  “And then you showed up,” he continues as though I haven’t spoken. “And I had another victory. If I felt anything when I saw you tied to that chair, beaten and bleeding, I crushed it before it could consciously affect me. I saw you as a threat.”

  “Because Lachlan would have used you against me?”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “That’s what I told myself. Maybe it was because you brought the past with you. You could have reminded me of what I’d left behind. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “And that’s why you tried to murder me?”

  His lips pull into a pained half smile. “I hadn’t left myself with reasons not to. But you got under my skin. I found myself thinking about you afterward. Worrying about you. Relieved when I saw you safe. I hated myself for that. Hated you for it.”

  He’s beginning to sound like the old Daniel now—the one I loved. Gruff, hard, and fighting to stay that way even when we both know better. He saw me at my best and my worst in ways no one else did. And he wanted all of it—my potential and my flaws.

  As I wanted his.

  I miss that. Miss him.

  “I worried for nothing, didn’t I?” he con
tinues, tracing his fingers over the leaves of a hanging willow branch. “You do seem to belong here. I guess it was easier for you. All you had to do was not see the ugliness, at least until you were in deep enough that you’d accept it. I’m glad they’ve treated you well.” Before I can grab on to that scrap of selfless sentiment, he adds, “It made it easier to resent you. Seeing you become one of them made it easier to believe the Aviva I used to know—the one who was always as tempting as she was dangerous—was the lie. I had no past with Ava.”

  He gives his head a quick shake, and when he speaks again, the anger in his voice shocks me. “And here you are now, denying what I’ve watched you become, saying you’d choose what we—what you thought we once had—over whatever Tempest has offered, reminding me of past weakness, putting us both in danger so you can ease your own guilt about the choice we both know you have to make… I could hate you for this, too.”

  My skin prickles. “Do you?”

  For a second, I think he’s going to say yes and walk out of here like he probably should have done when the conversation got dangerous. And then he slips. His walls don’t crumble, but I catch a glimpse of the battle that’s raging behind them as he nears the surface of the lies he’s drowned himself in. He knows he has to hate me. But he doesn’t. And he knows it no matter what he wants to believe.

  But he’s still out of reach. I can’t pull him to shore if he doesn’t want to be saved.

  I should let him go. Walk away right now, let him focus on survival. I just have to say goodbye.

  A tear slips from my eye. “I guess that answers my questions.” I smooth his unruly hair back from his brow and place a soft kiss between his eyebrows. He flinches. “I love you, Daniel. If you need to keep hating me to survive, I understand. I’ll try not to drag you down with me when I fall. But if I have to choose between a world where I have unlimited power or one where I risk oblivion but am free to keep loving you until it comes, I know which one I choose. Thank you. For everything.”