by Sia Wales
“So,” continues Graham. “As tradition dictates, I formally ask, Stella May Whitely, do you accept the deal and the conditions it imposes?”
I turn to search the liquid sapphire by my side and Graham immediately bursts into laughter.
“Wouldn’t Jason accept a bit of healthy competition?” His voice is dripping with irony as he turns to him.
“There’s no competition,” says Jason.
Graham looks at me, a smile spreading on his lips.
“Of course, I don’t know what I’m thinking sometimes!” he exclaims, then turns to me, his face now serious. “How dare you avoid Donn in this way? You risk hurting the black hole that took the place of his heart. I am sure that he would rather be your friend than not have you at all in his life.”
“Friendship is not enough for Donn, I’m sure of that.” The contrast between my words and my tone of voice breaks the tension again.
Jason looks at me anxiously. I can’t defy what he wants.
“I’d rather you ran the risk, rather than putting your life in danger. Or dying! The Council pact would discourage Jack and the attack by the rebels, unless they’re suicide runs! It’s the only possible solution, believe me. Try to find the right balance.”
I stand still as the thoughts in my mind run circles around one name. Jason. I know he said what he said to be certain I’d be safe. But at what price? But that doesn’t mean it’s not exactly what he really wants.
“So.” opens Donn, dragging out the word.
“So what?” I ask, my eyes purposely avoiding his.
“Nothing. I was wondering…” His face darkens. “I was just wondering what your plans are for next week.”
“Oh.”
“Well? Have we come to an agreement? I imagine that the possibility that you have changed your mind is remote. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to hold you to the promise. But I feel that you are somewhat more inclined now.”
The words burn in his mouth, his eyes dart to Jason, standing next to me. Feeling impotent, he is boiling with rage. I can feel his chest vibrate, a roar brewing. I can’t allow him to be reckless and risk getting hurt. I don’t want to see him hurt anymore because of me. I bite my lip, hesitating an instant before replying.
“What if I agree?”
“Finding the right balance!” exclaims Graham, smiling again.
“Ok, ok, I’ll give it a go,” I burst out, exasperated. “Balance. But I have a request to make, too.”
“Go ahead,” says Donn.
“It’s embarrassing not to be able to keep my thoughts secret when we’re together. So I want you to stay out of my head. It’s annoying that you’re always listening in, it makes me uncomfortable. It hate it that you read me all the time. That’s what I want, my condition.”
“Then I’ll respect it,” agrees Donn. “You know, baby, I’m a quick learner. Will you stick to my conditions?”
“Let’s get the balance right.”
Donn flashes that perfect smile of his, neither too gloomy, nor too friendly.
“I’m counting on you to behave yourself, baby.” He already knows that I’m not the most obedient type.
“Sure,” I sigh. “Will my time be divided up into precise segments?”
He smirks and shakes his head, laughing.
“Don’t make this any harder than it already is. Just remember the conditions. Especially mine, implicit in the deal.”
“Yours will make it hard to follow.”
“Come here,” he breaks in, calling me to him benevolently. His sweet murmur is as unbearable as it is seductive. I manage to resist it. I look at him in silence, he waits patiently.
“Promise,” he whispers in honeyed tones. “I beg of you. Is it such an awful thought? Are you willing to die rather than accept? I promised I’d behave, and I’ll keep to my word. Accept the deal with my conditions.”
Jason looks at me resignedly, nodding at me to comply. But his eyes seem to be thinking the very opposite, his face expresses irritation.
His eyes turn amber red, bright as Graham and Debra’s, as if a flame has suddenly flared up deep within. I feel I can read his thoughts, word for word. He appears to be in agreement with Donn, but in truth he never could be.
I step forward gingerly, Donn watching me all the while. I feel as though I have been punched in the stomach. But as soon as I am standing in front of him, I understand. He isn’t bothered about what I said or what I have done. No, what is troubling him is the anxiety he perceives inside me.
“Shh, Stella, come. Come,” he comforts me with a tender caress. But his words come out almost jumbled, I can barely understand. “Don’t fret, you’re worrying about the wrong things. Just believe me when I say that this is for the best right now, it’s safer this way. You’re already under so much pressure, don’t take on any more. Listen to me,” he soothes. “Hundreds of years have passed and I have now turned into ice. But the only thing I feel is the fear of losing you. You won’t regret having faith in me.”
Despite my resolve to cut Donn out of my life for good, it is only now that I realize just how deep he has to stick the knife in to succeed.
He looks me deep in the eyes, blissfully. He must have read my thoughts. My sense of terror ebbs away slowly as I sink into those onyx irises of his. Despite my newfound calm, I still know that I cannot trust my feelings where Donn is concerned.
“Give me your hand,” he says graciously, offering his to me, never taking his eyes off mine. The dark aquamarine of his hypnotic eyes convinces me to raise my arm with no further delay. Then he stretches out his to delicately take hold of my wrist.
Jason and Graham silently watch me, as do Gideon, Debra, and the entire troop of guards as Donn slides down my fingers to grip my hand, a light of satisfaction and impatience shining in his eyes.
“What is this deal?” I ask suspiciously. “I mean, is it written or what? I’m still skeptical and more than a little confused. I was expecting to sign a contract, but see no sheets of paper on Graham’s desk.
“Oh no, baby,” clarifies Donn. “This type of deal brings us together in the deepest bond that can never be broken.” His voice is calm and tender, the finest velvet to caress my ears.
“Ah,” is all I can manage to utter.
“The first step.” He extracts a small white flower from his jacket pocket––a four o’clock flower. He must have plucked it from one of the vases sitting the tables in the antechamber.
“A symbolic gift,” he adds. “The flower from your party.” It is an admission of guilt. He was the one who gave me the half dozen vases of flowers at the bar for my fourth anniversary party.
“Thank you,” I smile, touched, astonished. “It’s really beautiful.”
Donn looks at me and breaks into a smile.
“I’m glad you like it. It’s so that you don’t have trouble remembering my condition. The sacrifice that is the second step.”
He turns my hand over so my palm is facing upward. At this point, I realize the usefulness of the cufflinks that Donn is wearing on his shirt.
“Relax,” he whispers reassuringly. “I can’t stand waste.” His words pierce my mind slowly, one at a time, and take my breath away.
He lowers the cufflink from his free hand onto my wrist. My instinct is to snatch my hand away, but something seems to be stopping it. I am confused, overwhelmed. It is Donn gripping the back of my hand tightly. He brushes the tip of the cufflink against my skin, looking deep into my eyes penetratingly. Indecipherably.
I am petrified. I hear Jason’s teeth snap shut as the pointed tip of the cuff link pierces my wrist. The tiny hole, the shape of a triangle, oozes a drop of blood, which runs down my lower arm.
“Ah,” I sigh.
Donn closes his eyes for an instant and curls up his lip, revealing his teeth.
“A generous act of faith,” he says as he regains composure.
He bends his face over my wrist and kisses the wound. He licks up the blood as a tear rolls dow
n my face. The seconds tick by. I feel cold as the warm liquid drips from below my hand without staining his pallid complexion. My anxiety returns in tidal waves.
Donn seems to be paralyzed, attached to my hand as he delicately but greedily feeds on the few drops of my blood. Nobody dares move. I wonder how much longer he will stay before standing upright.
At this point Donn’s face relaxes into an easy smile, and for a moment he looks 20 years younger. The dark circles under his eyes have disappeared and his eyes sparkle an even brighter turquoise.
“The bond,” he finally murmurs. “The fundamental step.”
He makes a slight incision on the palm of his hand with the other cuff link, then brings the hand to my mouth, dirtying my lips with his blood. His hypnotic eyes are urging me not to move, to let him stain me with his thick, metallic tasting blood.
He lowers his palm to stain the petals of the white flower in my other hand, to join us in the indissoluble blood tie.
Donn’s head is still bent forward. He kisses my forehead. His eyes still fully attentive, he glances at Jason before covering my wound with a plaster he pulls out of his jacket pocket.
He brushes his icy fingers across my cheeks to say farewell before letting go of my hand. His eyes, filled with gratification, never leave mine.
Graham shakes his head, taken aback. A satisfied chuckle, then his voice breaks the silence that has fallen on the tower.
“Donn made good,” he declares joyfully. “It was fascinating to watch! Although the events are yet to conclude.”
“But they will,” Donn points out with conviction. There is not even a trace of uncertainty on his face.
“Yes, yes, it’s all set in stone now,” replies Graham smiling. “I’m sure of that.”
Gideon seems as disappointed as Debra seems put out.
“So can we go now?” asks Jason serenely as he takes my hand. He turns his delicious gaze on me, I’m transfixed. I smile at him and take my place close by his side.
“Of course,” says Graham amicably. “You may go home, and don’t forget to tell my friend Aaron that I send my regards. Just one last thing before you go. Please don’t linger in the library. It’s closing time now, and it is unadvisable to be seen there at night if not in the company of a Council member.” He turns to look at Donn, probably thinking about the time I stayed way past opening hours with him.
“Absolutely no problem,” answers Jason respectfully.
Gideon, whose expression was sullen, seems to relax.
“James, the night security man, is awaiting you in the main atrium of the library,” Graham smiles.
“Right,” says Jason.
“Ah, Gideon,” exclaims Graham. His enthusiasm never seems to wane. “Ares will be here any second. We’ll wait for him here, you accompany our young guests to the exit. You seem a little on edge. Calm down, we’ll head to the Council Capital shortly,” he reassures him warily, and I realize that he is alluding to the planned banquet.
“Hmm …” There is a veil of nervousness in Donn’s voice. “If that is the case, maybe it’s best that they leave immediately, and by themselves.” His voice is cold as his icy skin, he feigns absolutely no courteous mannerisms now.
“Good idea,” replies Graham. “You never know. If you don’t mind, but I beg you to choose an opportune moment to exit the Art Room, so nobody will notice you.”
“Of course,” says Jason. “No problem whatsoever. We’ll wait upstairs for our opportunity to get out undetected.”
“Can I be of help to you?” asks Debra’s with a sickly sweet tone, her face lighting up.
“No thanks, I know the way,” replies Jason, curt but polite.
She nods and smiles kindly.
Jason turns to look at Gideon. The message is clear. Don’t follow us.
“Let’s go,” he whispers quietly in my ear.
We walk past Gideon and Jason clutches me close to his side, a wary expression on his face. It’s heaven … but right in the very depths of hell.
Guilty
As we put everyone behind us, my breathing becomes more regular. I’m regaining control of myself. We exit the antechamber.
Holding me close, Jason makes his way along the same corridor we came in by. There is obviously no other way out. I don’t want to ruin this moment, imperfect though it is in this room full of flowers that remind me of Donn, and under the attentive eye of Gideon, watching us as we make our way out.
We go through the sliding panel, leaving the tower behind us, and find ourselves again in the narrow passageway lined with those majestic, austere busts of the 13 Council members.
Ares awaits us by the door, and with a flourish of his arm indicates we are to follow. He must have heard about Gideon’s ravenous hunger and decided that he should accompany us himself.
Jason uses his body as a protective shield. His expression is hard, concentrated. I can see his throat quivering, ready to emit a giant roar. Maybe he can sense Ares’ hunger. But his graceful, serene mannerisms instill no fear into me.
If it were not for his arm wrapped tightly around my waist, I could almost forget that Jason was here with me. At this moment, it is easy to be under the illusion that he wants me just as much as he did before. But maybe we were apart for too long. I can’t even begin to think about why he’s doing all this. I don’t care. Maybe he’s just behaving like this to keep me calm while we’re in danger. Maybe he feels guilty for having dragged me down here, but relieved that I’m coming out of it alive. Whatever the reasons, I’m fine playing at being the happy couple, even if only momentarily.
“The exit is four stories up, you can take the elevator,” says Ares’ melodic voice. “Goodbye.” He turns and makes his way back to the Council tower.
The elevator doors open. I’m glad there’s another way out. I don’t think I could stand another underground scramble through the dark
When we get into the elevator, I remain in Jason’s arms in silence. I study his face, imagining him kissing me tenderly in this very instant. He seems to be having the same thought, as he examines my face. He hasn’t said a word to me since we left Graham’s office.
As I try to see the changes in his beautiful face, I suddenly realize that I really am in his arms again. Although I know it won’t last.
“Oh, Jason,” I exclaim, and tears well up in my eyes.
What a dumb thing to say! I feel like I’m in a fairytale, and I’ve got until the clock strikes midnight before Jason leaves me.
I begin to blubber. The tears blur that breathtaking vision of his face. It seems like madness to cloud up my eyes after a long year of not seeing him. I cling on to his shoulders; at worst, he will push me away. But he doesn’t. He holds me even closer to his hard, icy chest, far from his mouth, so tight I can barely breathe.
“What’s wrong?” he asks anxiously, rubbing my back up and down softly.
I can’t tear my eyes from his sapphire eyes and his pale face. As I look at him, my overriding thought is that night will never fall. That this moment will last for an eternity.
“Is it really so absurd for me to feel so happy?” I whisper pensively.
“We have so many reasons to be happy.” replies Jason, his voice molten chocolate. The look he gives me makes it easier to pretend he is feeling exactly the same as me. I lie to myself, that way the moment can seem even sweeter.
“First of all, we’re alive,” Jason says. “And that’s already one thing. And if we’re careful, we’ll be alive tomorrow, the next day and the one after that.”
I nod, certain these words have a different meaning for him.
“We’re together,” he adds, as his fingers stroke my cheeks. His cold breath caresses my face.
“Yes, and the future is looking bright,” I whisper, uncertain. I suddenly doubt my own words.
“Let’s hope so,” he mouths, a slight smile on his lips.
We stride across a well-furnished parlor and come out of the huge wooden panel inside the ornamental fra
me. It’s where Donn came in from after having thrown me in the chute under the fireplace into Jason’s arms.
We are back in the Art Room in front of the fireplace door. It is weird to see it from a different viewpoint, from this side. We cross the room to the door. I’m the only one who takes a final glance at the wall, which hides the secret, prohibited part of the library that no one knows about, before entering the long, echoed corridor. We go down the familiar stairs and passageways, arriving at the main entrance to the building in an instant.
James steps out of the shadows toward us. He’s tallish, not too pale, he even has the same color brown eyes as me. Under almost any other circumstances, I’d find him handsome. But not here. He’s human, just like me. I can barely get my head around seeing another human being alone, at night, feeling totally at ease surrounded by vampires. Maybe he wants to join Donn’s family. Maybe he hopes they’ll keep him. Who knows––what he can do for them may keep him safe.
He welcomes us with a gentle smile and accompanies us to the door.
“Miss Whitely, it is a pleasure to see you again at last. Don’t you come here late anymore?”
“No, James, not anymore. Once was enough.”
“I see. If you want to stay after hours, you know where to find me.”
Jason stifles a grimace.
“Ridiculous.”
“Oh James, let me introduce you to Jason Rees,” I hurriedly say.
Jason looks at him indifferently.
“We already know each other.”
“Ok, goodbye then James,” I say as Jason delicately leads me toward the exit.
I just have time to grab my bag, which I had left on the table next to the window under the cupola in the reading room. James had clearly packed my things away and brought it down.
“Goodnight, Miss Whitely,” he adds cheerily, and we leave the library.
The streetlights have been on for just a short time. The city is seething with life, but the sky is an opaque gray; night is close at hand. I look at Jason’s face as we walk down Boylston Street. I still can’t believe he’s by my side and that he has returned to me. One question burns, but I choke it back. Every time I come into contact with his cold skin is another guaranteed beat of my heart. He knows this. Our fingers are still coy in their union.