Lies in Blood

by A. M. Hudson

  Chapter Ten

  She opened her eyes, the blue appearing before her lashes even parted, but as an instant smile swept her lips when she saw me, so too did the memory of what just happened. She turned away.

  “Don't look at me like that,” she said.

  “Like what?” I jumped up sat beside her.

  “Like you're really concerned.”

  I was really concerned, I thought, but it wasn’t my thought. I reached across and gently smoothed my thumb down her soft skin, seeing the moment in her mind when that barbarian struck her. It wasn’t a hard hit, it wasn’t even hard enough to change the colour of her skin, but it scared her, shocked her, and in that instant, a part of their friendship died. I could feel that pain. I had good reason to be concerned. She knew that.

  “He hit you,” I said, but the words, the feelings that came with them weren’t mine, either. They were Jason’s.

  “It was a tiny slap,” she said, pulling my hand away. “And I kinda had it coming.”

  “No.” I almost regurgitated the words, gasping them out instead. “You’ve been through enough. He had no right to touch you that way. I will skin him alive.”

  The anger I felt in Jason then moved me outside his body, but I heard everything, saw everything the way he saw it in what was obviously a dream he was having—all the way down on the second floor, tucked up tightly in his bed. So I watched, because something in this dream felt familiar somehow, like I’d lived it before.

  “I'm okay,” Ara said softly, cocking her head as though she felt sorry for me.

  It felt strange to have Jason’s voice in my head as if it were mine. It felt kind of disorienting. I sat back a little and just pretended he was telling the story, almost as if I were reading a book that suddenly switched perspective mid-chapter.

  “But you shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t brush this off like it doesn't matter, Ara. He is ten times bigger than you, and he—”

  “I've got bigger things to worry about right now, Jase.” She rolled away, pulling the blanket up over her shoulder. “Just let it go.”

  My hands hovered over her body for a second, tight, almost grabbing. I wanted to shake her—just dive into her head and insert all my own experiences and lessons so she’d wake up and smell the damn roses. But I pressed my fingers firmly to the side of her head, sweeping her hair back instead. “I love you, Ara. I won't let this go.” I kissed her face, backing off. “But we’ll talk about it in the morning.” There was no point trying to make her see reason tonight. She was as stubborn as an ox when she thought she was right, and while this was an endearing trait most of the time, it was also downright dangerous. It would take time to make her see that her so-called best friend was in the wrong.

  “Jase?”

  “Shh.” I tucked the blanket around her firmly, hoping it’d keep her there, wrapped up safe so I wouldn’t be tempted to lecture her. “Just sleep.”

  But she rolled over and shoved the blanket back. “Let it go. Mike didn't mean to do that. He’s…I mean, look what I put him through. This was just the final straw, okay. He clearly can't take any more of, well, me.”

  Dear God. Her ability to see the good in everything had finally become a hazard. I lowered my head into my hands. “I understand that, Ara, probably better than you might think, but he’s not just your friend anymore. He's the head of security. No matter what you do or have done, he should have more self-control than to have slapped you.” Surely she could at least see that much reason.

  “It was a little tap.”

  I looked up from behind my hands. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Jase. Go to bed. You look tired.”

  A pattern of thought started in her head then. I couldn’t grasp it enough to see what she was thinking, but I knew she was right about my appearance. I hadn’t slept well since the Masquerade. I’d slept even less since I tortured her, and while I was fine with that, since it felt like some kind of penance, the tiredness was affecting my self-control, decision making, even self-respect, making it hard to maintain grasp on this ever-weaving web of lies and corruption going on around us while simultaneously practicing honourable intentions toward Ara.

  “I am tired,” I said simply.

  “Did you sleep at all last night?”

  And there it was: the thought she’d started but hadn’t finished. It came to life in her mind like a memory; me, the screaming, the night she came down the corridor to see Arthur leaving my room after administering some hefty drug to stop the night terrors. She’d imagined me in there—imagined herself beside me, holding me. She wanted to be there. But if I let her in, if I let her know I was suffering for what I did to her, she wouldn’t let this go. She wouldn’t let me suffer for that.

  “What would make you think I hadn't slept?” I asked, planting the idea in her mind to just drop this.

  “You know already, Jase, you can read my mind.” She touched my arm, yanking me back from the invasion on her brain. “How long have you been having those night terrors?”

  I studied her carefully, wanting to let her in, knowing she could help, but at the same time knowing I didn’t deserve it. Then again, she wouldn’t drop this. She’d lay awake all night, worrying, and probably end up coming to my room in the small hours, getting caught by Falcon then having David breathe down her neck because he doesn’t trust her. She wouldn’t let this go unless I either talked to her about it or did something to her brain, which I didn’t want to do. “You…so you did see that dream?”

  She nodded.

  I sunk back, exhaling, as if I didn’t know.

  “Are they always that bad, the dreams?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  I sat up, feeling my heart come away from my chest in a hot spill of blood. “Ara, please don't—just…don't say you’re sorry. I'm sorry. I'm the one who—”

  “No.” She grabbed my hand and pressed it to her chest, right over the silver locket my brother gave her as a representation of his love. I wanted to pull away, but she’d never held me like that before. “All of that’s in the past,” she said. “I know what you did for me. I know it was to protect me, Jase, I forgave you a very, very long time ago.”

  And she had. I’d seen that in her eyes, her thoughts. It was one of the first things I noticed when we met in the field the day I returned from the dead. “I know.”

  “No, you don't. It hurts me for you to feel such deep regret. You’re punishing yourself for something you had no control over.”

  She was right. But it wasn’t just the torture at Elysium that bothered me—it was the pain I’d caused when I did have control. I drew my hand away. “I just…”

  “Jase. It’s. In. The. Past,” she said, slowly and deliberately. “Stop dreaming about it.”

  “To do that, I’d have to stop sleeping.”

  She rolled her eyes. “How ‘bout you come visit me in our sleep again instead. We’ll make some nice dreams for you.”

  Instant reaction? Lay her down and enter her head right now. Common sense reaction? “I'm not sure it’s really appropriate for us to be alone like that, Ara.”

  “I know. But I can't have you reliving that torture every night. I won't.”

  All very well, but what was she going to do about it?

  “Not to mention,” she continued. “If I'm slipping into your dreams somehow, I don't really want to be seeing that every time I close my eyes, either.”

  I laughed. It wasn’t really funny, but she was right. She and I, we had a connection like no others in this manor. What I suffered, so too did she. I guess, in that sense alone, I owed it to her to be all right again. “Okay. No more nightmares then.”

  “Good,” she said in a businesslike tone, and I just wanted to kiss her. She always had a way of making me feel better. “Now,” she added. “I have question for you.”

  Oh no. “Shoot.”

  “The mind-links?”

  “Mm?”

  “Did…”
She tried not to smile. “Did you visit me in our dreams while you were supposedly dead?”

  The smile I started by seeing hers grew. I knew what she was about to ask. “Maybe. Once or twice.”

  “I knew it.” She slapped the covers, and her mind went from our adventures in the field to the night I came to her room and danced with her. “So…the yellow dress?”

  I wasn’t sure if I should admit this. “Yes, I…” I shrugged dismissively. “I figured I owed you a new dress—since I ruined the blue one.”

  “Ha! I can't believe you just said that.”

  Neither could I.

  “And, what about the memories?” she said. “Did you leave mind-blocks in place, or were you actually in those dreams with me, showing me all those things yourself?”

  “Many of those were memories of things we did before…” The pictures of my childhood—the things she’d asked me about, things I’d shown her in our life together before I let her fall into Drake’s hands came to mind, so clear, so intense with the love we have for each other that I almost forgot I was talking. “I never placed mind-blocks. I erased those things, but only enough to hide them from a human mind. As you grew stronger, your brain lifted the sheet.” You were never supposed to find those memories again, I added without saying it.

  “Sheet? But you said you erased them.”

  “Nothing can ever truly be erased from a mind. It’s like a hard drive—unless you have some pretty high-tech equipment, there’s always an imprint left behind.”

  “Right. So, all those things you showed me about your childhood—”

  “You asked. I answered.”

  She nodded. “Did you want me to hate David?”

  I laughed. Of course I did. I just didn’t want her to learn the hard way what kind of man he was. “It’d be nice if you did. But, no. I did and do want you to know what he’s like, though.”

  “What do you mean?” Her soft cheeks dropped as her lips sat parted, curiosity lingering beneath a hint of fear for the truth I might offer. She was so perfectly beautiful, so soft and so fragile. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could have slapped her. And then I remembered again—the way I hit her, the way I screamed at her, threw her, dragged her, hurt her, and made her cry. I’d stepped outside myself when I did that, but no matter how far you step away, when you come back, the truth will always belong to you, and you cannot escape your own memories.

  I feared for her and her loving soul. She forgave me for an act of depraved cruelty. I knew she’d forgive Mike, and I knew, if David ever slapped her, or locked her away in her room or forced her to wear the clothes he saw fit, she would accept that. She loved him enough to look past anything. “You have such a forgiving heart that, well, now I'm sure you’d forgive David if he struck you in anger, and his strike would not be a tiny slap.”

  “You only say that because you think I'm going to let Mike get away with it.”

  She would. “No, I say that because my brother can seem to do no wrong. I’ve seen him raise his voice at you, and you only blame yourself—tell yourself not to push him. Ara, that’s a recipe for a submissive nineteen-fifties abused housewife. I just don't want to see you crying on a kitchen floor, punished because the Pavlova sunk and, sweet girl, I wouldn’t put it past him.” Because I remembered too clearly the events of days gone by—stories I could never share for fear of breaking her heart—breaking the mould she thought David fitted.

  “You don't think very highly of him, do you?” she said, but what she really wanted to say was, You’re just behaving like a jealous brother.

  “I love my brother. I do. But I know him, inside and out, and he’s old-fashioned. He doesn't see anything wrong with disciplining his wife. It’s not a personality fault; it’s a time corruption.”

  “He’d never hit me, Jase.”

  I wiped my thumb down her cheek, right where Mike would never have hit her either. “Neither would Mike.”

  She pushed my hand away. “And David would never even do that much.”

  “I hope not. And I hope, if he ever does, you would come to me. You would see it as an error on his part, and not just think yourself the problem.”

  “I wouldn’t. Okay?” But she knew she would; she knew she’d take it to her grave because, if he ever struck her in anger, it would be so apparently out of character for him that people would ask what she’d done to provoke him. “I know it might seem like I let him get away with being all controlling and forceful, but if he ever did anything to me that I didn't like, I’d leave. I have a no-strike policy with men, Jase. If he hits me, even once, he’s gone, because that’s not love.”

  Then how could she love me? “I hit you,” I said, and her mind went blank with guilt; she hadn’t thought of that, but my point was made. And made strong.

  “Jase. Don't. Okay? Just stop feeling guilty. Look—” She couldn’t find the right words, no matter how hard she tried, because she knew, deep down inside, that it was true; I hurt her. She should have expelled me from her life a long time ago for that. “Okay, you hit me, you’re a bastard. I hate you.” Her lovely white teeth showed with that special grin she did only when she was being cheeky. Her fangs had grown with the blood of the immortal being constant in her veins now, and they looked so cute on her; so small they were almost like baby teeth. I loved her so much in that moment that the tears I’d held all night, from the first moment I found out what she was planning to do with my uncle, came out from hiding. I didn’t want her to see them. I swiped one away as it fell onto my cheek.

  “You were just so small and precious.” I couldn’t stop it then; the whole thing played out in my mind, forcing me to see the way Arthur touched her. To see her cry and throw up, and as my heart raged with fury, wishing I could skin my uncle, the memory of her face when I struck her, when I tortured her, came rushing back like a punishment. I broke. I had to tell her how I felt. I knew it would only make her pity me. But I needed her to know I never stopped regretting it. “Every strike felt as if you’d snap, shatter, like porcelain. I—” I held my hands out as if she was in them, broken, crying for me. I could see her there—see her in my arms. “I hit as softly as I possibly could, but I—”

  Her fingertips landed in mine, bringing me back, waking me. “Don't go there anymore. Just, when you think about it, go to a place where we were happy, instead.”

  There were so many places like that; more memories of joy than pain. I flipped my hand over and held hers, knowing it was wrong, but owning her for myself in that moment, despite morals. “Only if I can take you there with me.”

  Her tiny fingers tightened around mine. “I will go anywhere, do anything to make you okay again. It kills me that you’re stuck in that torture without me, Jase. I'm okay. I'm here. I'm alive, and I…” I knew what she wanted to say. I saw her reach out in her mind and tell me she loved me, but she didn’t say it. “I care about you. A lot,” she said instead. “So, please, just…just don’t go back there anymore. Move on. Leave it behind where it belongs: in the past.”

  In her mind, as she mentioned the past, she saw a future; she pictured it for a second, with me. Her and I, together, someday, somewhere. But she pulled the thought back, discarding it quickly, because she knew she loved David. But it was enough to cheer me up, just the hope of one day, maybe, making her mine. And suddenly, I found a new reason to live.

  “See—” I shuffled closer, tucking her hair behind her ear to reveal her beautiful face. “This is why I love you. Look how easily you can heal my heart. See how effortless it is for you to take my terrors away.” She was everything I’d ever dreamed of, and my deepest regret then was not finding her first. “I just…I don't know where I’d be if I’d not found you.”

  She laughed. “What do you mean?”

  I hadn’t meant to add that bit; it just slipped out, leaving me scrambling for an explanation, knowing it would open my heart to her. “No one has ever cared so much before—to want to take my pain away and see that I dream of things that don't l
eave scars when I wake.”

  Her delicate touch stroked my cheek, making me wish I could bear to look away from her perfection for one second just to close my eyes and enjoy the way she felt. “I'm sorry you never found a girl who would see you the way I do.”

  She just didn’t get it. “But I did find one.”

  “Yes.” She smiled, but it was completely ruined by the pity in her eyes. “But, I want you to have love, like David and I do. I want you to find your eternal person.”

  “Eternal person?”

  “Yeah.”

  I laughed. “Well, I found her. I'm just waiting for her to realize we were made for each other, then I get my happy ending.”

  She pulled away. “That won't happen.”

  “I know.” I looked into my lap, holding on to the last of that future I’d seen with her. “But eternity is a very long time. I can hope that, one day, you’ll feel the way I do.” Or at least admit it.

  “If you really do care for me, then you won't think like that. Because, for all the confusion I have in my heart, I only want David.”

  She was right. It was selfish of me to hope she’d fall out of love with David because, for that to happen, he would have to hurt her pretty badly. I took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. Then I hope you never love me. I hope you and David live eternally happy lives together.”

  “Liar.”

  We both laughed. It was kind of irritating to have a person who could read me almost as well as I could read others. But nice at the same time.

  “I'm trying, Ara. I do want what's best for you. And if that's my brother, then, in my heart, he's who I want you to be with.” Even if I will eventually have to kill myself just to ease the pain.

  “Then you should stop touching me like your girlfriend. If he saw that, he’d be really pissed.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I sat back, sliding my hands slowly away from her body to savour the last touch. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  It wasn’t okay. I needed some distance. She wasn’t wearing anything but a shirt under that sheet, and the instinct-driven man inside me knew that only too well. I moved away and sat on the chair again. “Hey, can I ask you something?”