The Grove

by J. R. King

  “Can you see in the dark?” Kaleb asked.

  The grounds were lit gently by the moon shining above them, and Rome could make out just enough of the surroundings in the dim light. “Yes,” he said, “and no. I can see better than—well, I guess someone who’s human. But if I really want to see any kind of distance, I have to do this.” He closed his eyes, feeling the flecks of gold bleed into his irises. When he opened them, they were glowing softly in contrast to the shadows cast across his face.

  Kaleb watched as Rome rubbed at his eyes, blinking them open again in the inky darkness. He wasn’t sure what he liked better, the gold or the blue. “I’m seventeen,” he said finally.

  Rome chuckled.

  “You find that amusing?”

  “Yeah, I find that a little funny,” he said. “So, were you born, or did someone have to bite you?”

  Kaleb answered flatly. “I wasn’t bitten.”

  Rome contemplated just what that meant. To be born in the middle of a conflict with either of your parents on warring sides—that had to be tough. “Did you grow up around magic?”

  “I grew up around witches, but they were all slaves.”

  Rome hummed in discomfort. “You don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder, you know.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

  They ventured farther into the darkness, finally reaching what Rome had been looking for. Kaleb’s eyes fell to him as he hovered silently over one of the graves. “Your mother,” he said, not making it a question.

  Rome nodded wordlessly. “I wanted to go someplace quiet; somewhere you and I could really talk. I thought it might help if I shared something personal with you.”

  Kaleb decided to take the bait. “How long?” he asked.

  “Six years,” Rome said, staring down at the dates. “My mother never married, so I ended up with my uncle, even though he wasn’t listed as next of kin. That didn’t really keep me out of the system, though. Basically, I was old enough to understand what had happened, but I wasn’t old enough to know how to deal with it. My whole world was flipped upside down, and the only person I had to turn to ended up being a raging alcoholic.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this?” Kaleb said.

  Rome slipped his hands into his pockets. “Because I know what it feels like to be alone in a desperate situation.”

  “That doesn’t mean I can trust you.”

  Kaleb frowned then, staring at him in interest. He pressed his shoulder into the bark of a tree, watching avidly as Rome began to remove his shirt. That’s when he saw them. Rome’s entire back was covered in scars. They twisted across his skin like a grizzly story, spread out in thin, overlapping lines and gnarled bits of flesh. A collection of circular marks dotted along the top of his shoulder, most crammed so closely together that they looked like one massive burn.

  “I’ve made a lot of promises to myself, but I’ve never actually broken one until now. I never saw any reason to.”

  Kaleb straightened, pulling away from the tree. He was closing the gap between them without really meaning to, a morbid curiosity urging him to reach out and touch his skin.

  “Are those from shifting?”

  “No,” Rome said. He tugged his shirt back on. “But I have a feeling you already knew that.” He tried to smile, ignoring how hollow it felt. “Sometimes, it’s the people who are meant to be there for you that let you down the most.”

  The grass bent under Kaleb’s knees as he took up a spot on the ground. “Was that supposed to oblige me to tell you about my past? You already know more than I’d like.”

  “Don’t act like you’re not itching to share. I can sense emotions, and yours tend to be glaringly loud.”

  Kaleb huffed. “Then you should know I’m annoyed at you.”

  Rome tipped his head in acknowledgment.

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve left Lumara,” Kaleb said. It was odd, saying it aloud; and stranger still admitting that he’d anticipated the trips. “He used to take me with him.” He smiled bitterly. “I never imagined he might leave me here one day.”

  Rome watched as Kaleb tore out clumps of grass. “I guess I took for granted that not everyone wants to be here.”

  “Yes, staying at a school for what my upbringing has deemed ‘lesser beings’ is an honor, to say the least.”

  “Do you hate witches?” Rome asked.

  “No.”

  “What about magic?”

  “That’s not really a fair question. If you knew half of what my life has been like, I can guarantee you wouldn’t have asked.”

  Rome pressed his lips together, rubbing a hand over his mouth. He suspected his opinion was about to cause an argument. “It’s not as impossible to imagine as you might think. But what you’re telling me is that you hate a part of who you are – a part that you can’t change. How long do you think you can go on living like that?”

  “As long as I have to. Until it gets me killed or I find a cure. Living this way forever, though, is not an option. If I’m not one or the other, then I’m nothing at all. And you’re right. I couldn’t bare going on in that way. I don’t hate myself, but I do despise what I am, and all the things which I am not because of it.”

  “That’s disheartening,” Rome said. “But I suppose I’m one to talk. I want nothing more than to tell you to embrace who you are, but honestly, I’d be a hypocrite for saying it. I was going to leave town. Then I got that letter…”

  “Were you going to say anything to anyone?”

  Rome shook his head. “There wasn’t anyone to tell. What I don’t get is why you’re still here, though. You’re in danger.”

  “Progress comes at a price,” Kaleb said. “Either they come for me, to send a message and cripple my father, or a tentative concord is formed. In both instances, we get something we want. A chance to take action without instigating it.”

  “So you agreed to be dangled in front of the Collective? What, exactly, is your plan? I know I’m new to all this, but you know as well as I do that they are not looking to reintegrate vampires into society.”

  “It’s my father’s plot,” Kaleb said, “not mine. And I’m afraid he wasn’t very forthcoming with all of the details.” He watched Rome’s pupils dilate under the waning light. “I was already across the border when he told me I’d be staying. I imagine that’s the only way he thought he’d get me here.”

  “So you’re just going along with whatever he says? I mean, I get that he’s your father, but who does this guy think he is?”

  Kaleb’s gaze was distant, straying to the few thick trees speckled along the perimeter. There was a part of him that knew he shouldn’t say it. It was mad. But even if Rome was deceiving him as part of some scheme, a larger part wanted this all to be over. It was the waiting which was killing him most.

  “Vincent Leonté,” he said. At this point, there was no holding back. “Father of all vampires, and leader of our clans.”

  “I thought maybe you were the son of a dignitary,” Rome said. “But what you’re saying… History class must have been a complete joke to you. No wonder you got so worked up.”

  “I did not get worked up,” Kaleb said.

  “Oh, you were opinionated.” He took a long hard look at the boy beside him. They were silent for a time, each trapped within their own musings. Rome pressed his fingers to the dirt, leaning back on his palms. He had so many questions, but one in particular stood out. “Do you want peace?” he asked.

  Kaleb folded his arms. “After everything I’ve seen, I’m not sure I can imagine it’s possible. I’m not the only one who thinks my father’s actions have labeled him a fool.”

  “I don’t want to believe that you’re out to start a war,” Rome said. “So where does that leave us?”

  “Us? It leaves me where I’ve always been – on the fences, waiting for the tides to turn and swallow me whole.”

  The trek back to Rome’s car was taken in anticipated silence. He’d exp
ected things to be a bit awkward between them. What he hadn’t foreseen was how incredibly ill-equipped he’d be to handle the situation. Kaleb honestly didn’t seem any better fitted. Rome leaned his elbows on the glass roof, noting the uncertainty in his gaze. “I’m probably going to regret this, but how would you like to drive?”

  Kaleb looked like he might actually be considering it when a distant scream rose through the trees. Rome turned, staring off in the direction it had come from.

  “You heard that, right?”

  Kaleb frowned. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Rome tossed him the keys, taking a few tentative steps towards the open field. Seconds passed in silence, only the sound of their hearts pounding left to hang loudly in the air. Rome was listening so intently that he could hear insects moving along the ground. Another sharp scream pierced his ears, and he took off across the lawn at a run.

  “Rome!” Kaleb yelled. A soft curse left his lungs, and the crunching of leaves followed as he raced after him.

  Chapter Twelve

  On Dreams of Before

  The silver metal of the gun glinted under the flickering light. A single, shaking hand played at the trigger of the 9mm revolver. One little squeeze, and Christian was dead. Rome twisted his fingers in his hair, staring at the man with the gun (the man whose arm was wrapped around Ariahna’s neck). When Rome had run off to help, this wasn’t the scene he’d expected to find. He and Kaleb were huddled down in the grass, watching as Christian attempted to talk his way out of an impossible situation. Two men stood behind the man with the gun, and another lay unconscious on the pavement.

  Christian tensed as his grip tightened around Aria’s throat. He held his hands in the air, taking two cautious steps towards him. That’s when the guy straightened his aim, warning him to stop. “Clearly this was all a big misunderstanding,” he said. “Neither of us cares what happened here. We can all walk away.”

  “All but my friend there,” the man said.

  “They’ve seen our faces,” one of them bellowed.

  The sound of sirens wailed to life in the distance.

  “The cops are already on their way,” Christian said. “Do you really want to go from trespassing to double homicide?”

  Rome had seen enough. He turned to Kaleb in a whisper.

  “Do you still have my keys?” he asked.

  Kaleb angled a dark look at him as Rome ripped his shirt off, making quick work of the buttons on his jeans. “What are you doing?”

  Rome didn’t stop to explain. “When you see an opening, get them to my car. I’ll meet you at that diner we passed along the way.”

  “Wait,” Kaleb said. “I can’t drive!”

  Rome was gone before he realized what was happening. Kaleb stood slowly from the dirt, edging closer to the wide blacktop. He had no clue what sort of opening he was supposed to be waiting for; there didn’t look to be any means of escape. When he saw a huge black dog tearing across the field, his heart nearly stopped.

  “Boss…”

  One of the men had cried out the warning. The others were too busy arguing with Christian to notice. Ariahna, however, was not as oblivious. She screamed as a mouth full of teeth flew at them, biting down on the man’s gun arm.

  The only thing louder than their collective cries was the gunshot that rang out, echoing off the brick. All Kaleb could do was watch the whole terrible scene unfold.

  The guy wailed as Ariahna ripped out of his grasp, running for Christian. He was cowering on the cement, too shocked to move. “We have to get out of here!” she said.

  Police cars began swarming into the parking lot, the blue and red lights chasing each other across the building. Ariahna startled when a hand clamped down on her shoulder, turning to see Kaleb standing at her back. There was no time for words. They hoisted Christian to his feet and took off through the trees as shouting erupted from behind them.

  Kaleb stopped down a shaded path, looking around frantically in the dark. He’d gotten so turned around, he wasn’t sure what way they’d come from. “Damn it,” he breathed.

  “What are you looking for?” she said.

  Kaleb sucked in a breath, staring through the shrubbery as a light swept over their heads. He took off again, spotting the fence line and the grassy field that sat beyond it. The sound of voices and bodies crashing through the foliage chased them all the way back to the cemetery parking lot. Kaleb tossed the keys at Christian when they got there, ordering him to get in and drive. That’s when the questioning started.

  “Where did you get this car?” Aria said. “Is Rome back there somewhere? Did we just leave him behind?”

  The deepening quiet was Kaleb’s only answer.

  Christian shifted in the driver’s seat, fists clenched around the wheel. “Did anyone else see that dog?”

  “That wasn’t a dog,” Aria said.

  Kaleb buried his face in his palm, silently stewing from the passenger seat. He watched the mile markers zip past them, straightening up as the small outlet came into view. “Stop here.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because we need to pick up Rome.”

  Christian exchanged a look with Aria through the rearview mirror. He’d seen his fair share of upset women; enough to know he wasn’t going to hear the end of it if he didn’t pull over. They parked outside of the diner, hiding the car among an SUV and a minivan. The complex itself was obscured by shadow, leaving only the soft glow of lamplight to emanate from the glass windows of the eatery.

  Ariahna frowned at the wooden sign propped up outside the door. The Silver Spoon was, apparently, a restaurant. Albeit not one she had ever heard of, or was eager to walk into.

  The smell of fried egg and coffee greeted them as Kaleb pushed in the stiff, swinging door. Laminate tables and booths occupied every inch of the wall, and a bar set with pastries took up the front. The waitress moved in front of them, carrying a steaming pot of coffee.

  “Take a seat wherever you’d like,” she said.

  Kaleb watched the other two slip into a booth before making his way to the back of the building. The sharp tang of blood could be smelled on the air, underneath the normal aromas of caffeine and greasy food. He stepped into the tiled bathroom, lingering near the door as he watched Rome scrub mercilessly at his hands and face. The water blasting into the sink was the only noise filling the room.

  Kaleb caught eyes with him through the mirror, both quickly conveying their unrest. “Tell me you have a plan,” he said. He moved, shutting off the faucet as Rome pressed his palms to the counter. “This was your brilliant idea, remember?”

  “I know that. Just… give me a minute.” Rome yanked paper towel after paper towel from the dispenser, tossing the soaked up remnants in the trash.

  “Your hands are shaking,” Kaleb said.

  “I know.”

  He watched him wipe his hands over his pants, brushing off a few stuck blades of grass. Kaleb inhaled. “They already suspect something,” he said. “The air in the car was so thick I could barely breathe. The redhead, particularly, is not happy.”

  Rome gazed up at him. “Is she okay?”

  “She’ll live. If she doesn’t figure it out, anyway.”

  “Don’t,” Rome said.

  Kaleb’s glare was cutting. “You’re in no position to be making demands. Now I suggest you get it together and feed them a very clever lie. That’s the only thing that’s going to save you right now.”

  Rome stared at the floor. “I didn’t want to lie to her like that,” he said. He stepped out of the restroom, keeping his eyes on his boots.

  “What’s your plan?” Kaleb asked.

  “Just follow my lead.”

  Rome slipped into the booth without a word. When he looked up, he noticed three things. The scratches across Aria’s throat, the stained napkin in Christian’s hands, and the blood floating in the water glass which Kaleb was purposely attempting to grab. “Don’t,” he said, giving him a look. It was nothing comp
ared to the way Christian was glaring. “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I think it’s you that owes us an explanation,” Christian said, “not the other way around.” He was looking at Kaleb when he said it.

  Rome opened his menu, looking briefly through the selections. “I don’t owe you anything,” he said. He leaned his elbows onto the table, turning his gaze back to Ariahna. “What happened?”

  Her eyes flicked to Christian. “Good question.”

  Rome watched a silent conversation pass between them. They broke eye contact then, returning seemingly to their own thoughts. The sounds of the diner rose around them, feeding into the quiet tension. He sat back as the waitress strode over to their table.

  “What’ll it be?” she asked coarsely.

  Christian turned over the cup sitting in front of him, sliding it pointedly towards the edge. “No decaf,” he said. He watched her pour his coffee while Ariahna and Rome both politely declined.

  “And you, sweetie?” the woman asked.

  Her eyes had settled on Kaleb. The others watched him smile from where he sat, reclined against the ripped, vinyl bench.

  “Grilled cheese. Clam chowder. No spoon,” he said.

  She jotted down his order, turning to the others in turn.

  “I’m fine,” Ariahna said. “I don’t want anything.”

  The words flew out of Rome’s mouth before he could stop himself. “I’ll have a steak—medium rare—French toast, and a milkshake.” He leaned across the table to add, “Don’t skimp on the whipped cream, alright? And if the steak’s not as big as my hand, make it two.”

  Christian said, “I’m okay.” He waited until the waitress walked away to speak again. “Somebody likes their cow alive…”

  “They have a tendency to overcook things here,” Rome said. “You just have to know how to order right.” He watched Christian eye Kaleb from over the edge of his coffee mug. “I was helping someone with engine trouble,” he said. “Kaleb was bored, so I told him to take my car for a spin. I just want to know what happened after that.”