by Kallysten
“Hello, Will. You missed our afternoon meeting.”
Blinking slowly, Wilhelm looked up, following the pressed uniform pants and shirt until he found Bergsen’s face. The man was looking at him through a blank mask, the same mask he wore at Guard funerals. Wilhelm didn’t know what to reply, so he kept quiet and lowered his eyes again. Just behind Bergsen, the line had leapt again.
“Will…” Bergsen sighed as he squatted down; his eyes were now almost level with Wilhelm’s. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
Wilhelm shrugged. After hours of remaining still, his muscles protested at the movement, but he silenced the pain and kept it out of his voice. “Nothing. Just enjoying some fresh air.”
Shaking his head lightly, Bergsen snorted.
“Fresh air? It smells like burned meat to me.”
It took a few seconds before the words slid far enough into Wilhelm’s mind to begin to make sense. He sniffed, and the scent clinging to the air—burning flesh—made him frown.
“Come on, now, my friend, you’re scaring the nurses.” Bergsen’s hand closed over Wilhelm’s right shoulder and he squeezed, pulling up lightly. “Let’s go in, and they’ll put some bandages on these burns.”
When Bergsen looked down, Wilhelm followed the movement with his eyes, and was surprised to discover that his left hand was red and blistered. His face felt tight and sore, too.
“I didn’t go in the sun,” he protested, taking Bergsen as witness. “Why…”
He couldn’t finish. It didn’t make sense that he would be burnt. He hadn’t moved all day, remaining by the wall beneath the overhang.
“Of course you didn’t go in the sun,” Bergsen said, gently pulling up on Wilhelm’s shoulder again. This time, Wilhelm stood at the prompt. “If you had, I wouldn’t be talking to you now. But you were close enough to sunlight to do the trick. What the hell were you thinking?”
Bergsen’s hand remained on Wilhelm’s shoulder as he led him inside, past those doors that had opened and closed so often during the day. Wilhelm wondered suddenly if anyone had come to see Aria. He stopped in the middle of the lobby and turned his face toward Bergsen. The words tore his throat like crushed glass but he pushed them out anyway.
“She’s dead.”
Bergsen looked away and nodded. “I know, Will. I know.”
He motioned for a nurse, and she showed them to an examination room. Wilhelm sat down on the table, and at last Bergsen let go of his shoulder.
The words kept coming now, despite the pain, despite the uselessness of it all. After hours of silence, they refused to stop rising.
“I was going to tell her… I had decided, after we talked this afternoon. I was going to wait until the fight was over, and I would have told her. I would have told her I… I would have… But it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
The nurse cleaning his hand wasn’t giving any sign that she had heard a word he had said. He looked at Bergsen, who as before turned his gaze away. Bergsen never did that, some part of Wilhelm’s mind supplied. Not unless he was keeping something from someone.
“What is it?”
Wilhelm refused to hear Bergsen’s protests that nothing was going on and simply asked the question again until the man sighed.
“Well, maybe you’ll get another chance to tell her.”
At Wilhelm’s blank look, Bergsen sighed yet again and passed a hand through his thinning hair. “Cambria. When the orderlies went to take her body, he wouldn’t let them. He said he turned her.”
* * * *
I woke up with the dying day. I can’t remember much of what I felt or thought. It’s all very blurry in my mind. What I do remember is that the first thing I saw when I woke up was Will. He was punching Lorenzo, and Bergsen and a doctor were trying to stop him. I sat up on my bed and I must have said something—I must have called for my Sire, I guess, like so many new vamps do when they first awake—because Will stopped, and turned toward me. His hand was bandaged, and the side of his face was burned. His eyes were red, as though he had cried, but I couldn’t imagine why he would have. Of course, with my mind as fuzzy as it was, there was a lot I didn’t understand. I started raising my hand toward him. I wanted to ask what had happened, but I couldn’t manage to form words. Lorenzo walked in front of him and took my hand, sat next to me on the bed. He spoke, but I’m not sure I heard what he said. I do have this distinct memory of watching a bead of blood slide down his chin from his split lip. It was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen. And then Lorenzo cupped my cheek in his hand, and said my name softly until I looked up into his eyes.
“It’ll be all right, Childe. You’ll see. Everything will be all right.”
The door banged shut on Will, and I jumped, startled. The sound was too loud, the displacement of air too intense on my skin. Lorenzo got my attention back by offering me his wrist and asking me to bite and feed. I did just that before I even understood what he was saying.
I never knew until now that Will had decided this was the night he would tell me. If anything, he was more distant after that. I could still feel his eyes on me, was still sure he kept as close a watch on me as he had before, but he felt farther away from me than ever.
And then, there was the way he acted around Lorenzo. It was a surprise that none of the heated, angry looks he threw at him ever set fire to my Sire. It was even more surprising that he never staked him. There were a couple of occasions when I thought he would, but after I asked him not to kill Lorenzo, Will never touched him again. I doubt he ever forgave him, though. Even with the way things turned out, even though he and I have been together for decades, he’ll never forgive Lorenzo for killing me.
Chapter 10
In the stillness of the late night, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, of grunts and groans seemed louder even than the clash of battle had been earlier, metal against metal and battle cries echoing over the walls. And yet, it was only another battle taking place, another fight, like the ones that happened nightly in Newhaven—or almost. The difference, this time, was that both adversaries were vampires, and neither held a weapon.
For three nights, Wilhelm had tried to avoid having anything to do with either Lorenzo or Aria. He had tried not to look at her when she first came back to the walls, raw energy bubbling out of her and shouting to the world what she now was. He had tried not to listen as the two of them sparred on a slow night, Lorenzo giving advice and pointers to a fighter who proved herself, as she always had, better than he was. He had tried—and failed miserably. Everywhere he looked, he saw Aria, her hair, her eyes, her smile. Her blood.
Tonight, Wilhelm had reached his limits. He had seen Aria walk away with friends, human friends, encouraged by Lorenzo, and he hadn’t thought twice about what he would do. Waiting for the right time had been one of the most difficult things he had done in years. It was fitting that he had finally caught up with Lorenzo in front of the Remembrance Wall. Above the bouquet of white roses laid on the pavement, Aria’s name was still on the list of recent deaths, the V next to her name announcing her fate. Few Guard members were turned on the battlefield, but she was hardly the first.
“You were supposed to protect Aria.” He punctuated his words with a punch that Lorenzo managed to avoid. “Not let her die.” Another punch; this one made contact. “Not turn her.”
Lorenzo took a couple of steps back, and was stopped by the wall behind him. He ran a hand over his mouth, wiping away some blood. His lips twisted into a wry smile.
“I never heard you call her Aria before.”
He spat some blood and took a step forward again, raising his hands in an unconvincing defensive gesture. Wilhelm barely noticed, too caught in his own thoughts. When had he started thinking of her as Aria? He had never cared for nicknames. He didn’t mind people calling him Will, better that than them butchering his name, but he wasn’t one to call anyone by anything other than their given name.
“Do you think she became someone new when I sired her?” Lorenzo
continued, his voice turning more and more bitter even as he spoke faster. “She didn’t. She was born to be a fighter. Haven’t you seen her on the battlefield? She’s increased her speed and skills, and when she learns to use them fully she’ll be one of the best fighters out there. She might be better than you, someday. Is that what you’re afraid of?”
Wilhelm never answered, at least not in words. He started punching again, adding kicks every so often. He had been angry before, but now he was enraged. As much as he had tried to ignore Lorenzo’s words, to ignore them like the babblings of a fledgling who knew nothing—since that was what Lorenzo had proven himself to be, after all—the words had slipped through his defenses and torn at his mind.
Of course he wasn’t afraid that Aria or anyone else for that matter might become a better fighter than he was; the town needed more skilled fighters. But the rest… So long, he had tried to keep her safe, and in the end, it had all been for nothing. Maybe it had been too late already the day he had met her, a lost child who thought she could fight with a stake too big for her small hand.
Lorenzo clearly was tiring. For a while, he had managed to block part of Wilhelm’s blows, and even return some of them. Now though his movements were becoming slower, sloppier. One last blow threw Lorenzo back against the wall, hard enough that his head hit it with a dull thud. He collapsed, sliding sideways until his temple was resting on the pavement.
The stake inside Wilhelm’s pocket felt heavier, suddenly, the familiar shape and weight of it overwhelming. It wouldn’t take much, and with Lorenzo knocked out, he would never even know what had happened.
Wilhelm heard the running steps, but they didn’t register with his conscious mind until she was there, between him and Lorenzo, arms extended on each side of her. Aria. She didn’t even spare a look for Lorenzo, focusing entirely on Wilhelm right away. Her voice had that breathless quality of newly turned vampires who forgot they didn’t need to breathe anymore.
“Please don’t.”
Behind her, Lorenzo stirred a little. His eyes opened and he blinked, undoubtedly realizing who was in front of him. He didn’t try to get up. Wilhelm was sure Lorenzo was listening, and trusting Aria to keep him safe. A Sire hiding behind his Childe—the rage roared louder inside Wilhelm, and he had some trouble keeping it from his words.
“Get out of the way, Aria.”
She didn’t move an inch. “I’m not going to let you kill my Sire.”
Wilhelm’s fists clenched and he forced himself to release them again. His gaze remained on Lorenzo, still lying on the pavement. Blood was staining the corners of his nose and mouth, and he raised a slow hand to wipe them off. The scent of blood did nothing to appease Wilhelm’s anger.
“I don’t plan to kill him,” he said, realizing at once that his tone was less than convincing.
Aria snorted. At last, her arms dropped, but she crossed them in a defensive manner. “You could have fooled me. What are you trying to do, then?”
“This doesn’t concern you.”
Another snort. “Really? So you’re not kicking his ass because he turned me?”
Long seconds trickled by, leaving Wilhelm unable to answer her. Behind her, Lorenzo struggled to sit up, his back to the wall, and very carefully looked at anything but the woman protecting him. The way he was avoiding to look at his own Childe sent a jolt through Wilhelm. He refused to be that much of a coward. For the first time since she had risen as a vampire, he made himself meet her eyes. He was almost surprised to discover they hadn’t changed and were just as deep as he remembered them. His anger vanished all at once.
“Aria,” he started pleading, “don’t—”
He wasn’t sure what he was pleading for. It didn’t matter. She didn’t let him finish.
“No. You don’t. I am what I am, and you have no right to beat Lorenzo for it. He’s not your Childe or your minion. He has no explanation to give you.”
Deep down, Wilhelm knew she was right. Still, every fiber of his being demanded that he take revenge on Lorenzo. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
A muscle in her cheek twitched. She took a small step toward him, her eyes sharp as daggers. “Don’t I? I’m a vampire now. My Sire has been teaching me.”
It was Wilhelm’s turn to snort. “What does your Sire even know?”
That seemed to give her pause. Was she realizing only now that her Sire was little more than a fledgling himself? She started turning to look back at Lorenzo behind her. She stopped mid-movement however, and her eyes came back to Wilhelm. The hesitation that had flickered through them was gone.
“He knew at least that I wouldn’t be upset if he turned me.”
Wilhelm refused to consider even for a second that she might be telling the truth. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I always knew I wanted nothing more than to fight. I never expected to become a vampire, but it makes sense.”
“Aria—”
“Once in my life, Will!” Her voice had risen, both in volume and intensity, brimming with exasperation, anger, and even—was it pain? She took a deep breath in, and when she spoke again, her words were quieter, calmer, although still as intense. “Once in my life, have faith in me. Believe that I know what I want.”
Memories rushed to the front of Wilhelm’s mind, other conversations he had had with Aria—other confrontations. They all seemed to mix together. Hadn’t it always been about the same thing?
“I never doubted you knew what you wanted.” He sighed. “That’s why I was always afraid for you. You’ll get yourself… no. You got yourself killed. The man who was supposed to keep you safe—” His voice wavered for an instant; he was this man. “—he failed you.”
He expected her to argue. She always did. This time though, all she did was stare at him. She seemed smaller, suddenly, not standing quite as tall as she usually did, and the scent coming from her, for the first time he could recall, was laced with fear.
“You’re right,” she said no louder than a whisper. “He failed me.”
Arguments, shouting, her usual word games, Wilhelm could have taken without blinking. These quiet words, however, pierced his heart better than a stake would have.
“I lost my life,” she continued. “Don’t take my Sire from me as well.”
Unable to keep holding her gaze, Wilhelm averted his eyes. Behind Aria, Lorenzo had finally pushed himself back to his feet. The blood on his face had dried, but the hair on his temple was matted and wet. He couldn’t have died from a wound to the head, but Wilhelm had been so close to staking him…
A phantom pain awakened in Wilhelm’s chest, and he brought a hand to his heart. It had been more than fifty years, but the memory of the pain that had surged through him when his Sire had died was still vivid, a burning brand on his flesh, and yet he had been a Master himself when she had met her end. He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like for Aria to lose her Sire only a few days after she had been turned, when she needed him so much.
Wilhelm wished she had needed him that much.
He wished he had been her Sire.
The thought struck without warning, taking Wilhelm by surprise. He hadn’t had a Childe in decades. He was so tired of being alone.
He looked back at Aria’s face. He wanted to touch her cheek, take her where they would be able to talk without Lorenzo standing at her shoulder, and finally tell her…
Tell her…
He had turned away from them and was down the street before he even knew what he was doing. He found his way to the bar the same way, his body functioning purely on instinct. He hurt too much. He needed numbness. Oblivion. He needed to be able to sleep without dreaming of Aria.
* * * *
The pounding in Wilhelm’s skull finally began to lessen. It didn’t stop—he had drunk far too much for that—but it relented just enough that he pushed the pillow off his face. Everything was dark in his small bedroom when he opened his eyes. Darkness was a blessing—while it la
sted. The abruptness of the lights flicking on caught him by surprise and made him groan in pain.
“Turn ‘t off.”
He fumbled for the pillow and pulled it back over his head. The lights were turned off again, and slow steps traveled on the side of the bed to the chair tucked in the corner. For a few moments, Wilhelm caught himself dreaming. It was Aria, sitting there, close enough for him to reach out to her. All he needed to do was turn to her, and let it all out. Ask for her forgiveness. Ask for her friendship, if she could give no more than that. For more if she could.
The regular beating of a human heart, so regular, so loud against Wilhelm’s temples, put an end to that fantasy.
“The walls were breached, last night.” Bergsen’s voice was too loud, even though it rose no higher than a whisper. “The demons spilled in, went as far as Fifth Street. Human soldiers were fighting until five this afternoon.”
For the second time, Wilhelm pushed the pillow away. His mind was bubbling with questions, but none of them came through. All he could do was try to figure out how long he had been lying there, with empty bottles still where he had let them fall.
“I won’t presume to think I know how you feel,” Bergsen continued after the silence had stretched into wordless accusation. “But I do know we can’t afford to have you lost to the world when we’re under such an attack. Do you want me to send her away? There are other towns where she—”
“No.”
Strange how Wilhelm’s throat could feel so parched after he had drunk so much.
“No,” he repeated, louder, and struggled to sit up. The bells in his head started ringing louder than ever. “We need her here.”
“I know that. They tell me she was exceptional last night. But she has no experience leading, and that was what we needed. A leader.”
“You are a leader,” Wilhelm tried to argue, but right away Bergsen was shaking his head.