by Ash Krafton
He felt like despair. Finality. Hopelessness.
Resolution.
"Sophie..." His voice was low and rugged, textured with pain, and he wrapped one arm around his waist, holding himself as if it hurt to breathe. His eyes were on fire, emerald to rival the cold winter sun.
He looked...disheveled.
That was all. Marek wore no coat, despite the bite of December air. His clothing looked rumpled as if he'd gotten dressed in a hurry and had thrown on the nearest things at hand. He wore a green sleeveless undershirt that had seen better days. A few strands of hair had worked loose from his pony tail, giving it a frazzled appearance. Beads of perspiration glistened upon his forehead.
Subtle things. But in Marek, they spoke volumes. He wasn't tapping into his Brinkage power to maintain his appearance. This was the first time since he'd become Master that I've seen him looking less than supernaturally perfect.
I didn't waste time thinking. Instinct awoke within me, the Sophia unfolding like a ball of fog. I didn't reason. I didn't guess. I merely arrived at the truth. This is bad.
"Help me," he rasped.
Marek fell forward, catching himself on the frame of the door. Quickly I went to his side, supporting what I could, urging him inside.
I ignored the panic and the worry that trickled into my chest as I noticed his bare arm. It was reddening in the sun. Crossing the threshold, I kicked the door shut behind me and walked him into the den.
"Toby!" I shouted again, my voice streaked with tension.
Marek could walk, though with great effort; his breathing was shallow as if he would suffocate. I wouldn't be able to tell what was wrong with him until I could examine him. The sunlight from the foyer's high windows streamed in through the open door like an accusation, slicing through the otherwise darkened room. He sank into the sofa with a stifled groan.
"Don't move," I said. "You're hurt. Rode. Damn it, Rode's not back yet. Toby!"
Shit. Shit. Shit. I dug through the fridge behind the bar, looking for something for him to drink. With Shiloh's treatment rapidly approaching, Rodrian had begun to stock-pile synthetic blood around the house. For an emergency, he'd said.
Marek leaned back against the cushions, his head back, hair spilling down like a crooked curtain. His breathing had evened out, but it still sounded raspy.
"No. Don't bother." He raised a hand to protest. Pain slid across his face when he lifted his arm. The skin glowed an angry red, making him look like a Jersey Shore tourist.
Shit. DV couldn't be hurt by the sun.
I slammed the fridge shut and rummaged through the bottom of the bar, and found an ice bucket. Pulling a linen tablecloth out of a drawer I tore it into strips. I dropped the bucket into the sink and ran the water to its coldest. Best I could do. "You're burned. I'm going to cool it down. Looks like blood on your shirt, too. Show me the worst wounds first."
"The worst?" He laughed, a hard sardonic sound. "You can't bandage the worst."
I ignored the familiarity of that tone of voice. It brought back memories of when we first met, and memories of meeting Marek only made me feel powerless. Reaching inside me, I resurrected old habits and let them take over, becoming instead the bossy first aid queen I'd once been. We weren't going to play the old games. I was going to fix him and send him home.
Nurse Sophie, that used to be me.
Still, it nagged at me. He'd burned in the sun. Marek hadn't been sensitive to the sun before. Moreover, he wasn't using Brinkage to spruce himself up. His power felt sick, unstable.
This is bad, Sophia whispered inside my head. Something has changed again.
And when a DV changed, it was never for the better.
I shuddered, the trickle of panic growing into a steady stream. I lifted the bucket out of the sink and cursed when I caught the edge in my haste, splashing the contents across the counter.
"Calm down," he said, and I felt him dampen down the tendrils of anxiety that constricted my throat. The panic drained down, leaving composure in its place.
The composure wasn't mine. If I hadn't experienced his calming compulsions in the past—if the timbre of his touch hadn't been so familiar—I never would have noticed his interference. I winced against the mental intrusion.
"Stop it," I whispered.
"I am sorry." I heard genuine contrition in his voice. "I had no right to do that. But I cannot bear for you to feel that way."
"That's fine. Thanks. Whatever. Just stay out of my head."
"I need you to keep your sense. I need you, Sophia. Don't abandon me now."
Carrying the bucket over to the couch, I sat next to him and wrapped a wet bandage around his forearm. He sucked breath in through his teeth at the sudden icy touch.
"What are you talking about, Marek? I let you in, didn't I? I never abandoned you. Not ever," I said flatly. Meeting his eyes, I tied the makeshift bandage with a tug.
"It's more than shelter. Sophia..." Marek's eyes dimly brightened as if he had a weak battery. He searched my face, tenderness and unspoken regret softening his mouth, his brow, as if he'd finally remembered who I was, who I'd once been to him. "I ask you. Take my heart."
Pressing my lips together, I retreated to the bar, unwilling to look at him and see the tenderness I'd prayed so long to see again. I wanted to look. I slapped the counter, hard enough to sting. Mad at him. Mad at myself.
"I can't do this! I can't help you if you talk like this. I can't help you if you keep touching me with your compulsion. You're hurt, and you need help. That's all I'm going to do. Don't ask me to love you."
"I'm not asking you to love me," he replied, his voice leaden. "I'm asking you to kill me."
I looked back at him in dismay as the truth slowly dawned on me. He leaned forward, firm purpose replacing the pain in his eyes. "I'm finished. You must end it for me."
Marek rose; the simple act of standing caused pain to ebb in waves along his power. Light from the foyer illuminated one side of his body, a split image of positive and negative, dark and light. Black and white and emerald green where his eyes wouldn't go out. "Kill me before I turn. The sun will fall in a few hours. Kill me, else I fall with it."
"No," I whispered. "How could you ask me such a thing?"
"You are Sophia. You are the only redemption I have ever known."
"I am Sophie," I said firmly. "I don't kill. Not even if someone really deserved it." We faced off for many long moments, each one unrelenting, unwilling to admit we couldn't change, even if it meant the demise of the other.
Marek sank back down into the couch with an un-comfortable sigh. "Where is my brother?"
The worry I'd set aside for Rodrian and Shiloh resurfaced.
"I don't know. Shiloh took off yesterday. Rode got a lead and he went after it. He never came back and he hasn't called. I'm scared," I said softly. "Can you feel him? Do you know where he is?"
"No." His eyes drifted half-closed. "He is...moving, but I can't tell where he is." A violent fit of coughing stole his words, a wet and painful sound. I winced when I saw the stain of blood on his lips. "It is distracting, this process of dying. My power isn't orderly enough to be any use."
"Shut up," I said. "You're not dying. You can't be."
He exhaled and leaned his head back again. "I apologize for not meeting your expectations."
"Marek..." I gingerly sat down beside him, against the arm of the couch, afraid I'd scare him off. "What happened to you?"
He laughed, ruefully, and let his gaze take me in. For the first time since he'd left to start The Crap That Almost Killed Me, we were having a real conversation.
Great. He was dying. Now we were talking. Talk about procrastination. Why couldn't he have done this before? Why couldn't he have looked at me like this, like I was actually in the room and I actually meant something, before it was too late?
It couldn't be too late. I didn't go through all this for a pile of too late.
"A curse." He interrupted my frustrated stream of thought. "A curse that was uttered
centuries ago, a curse upon my grandfather and his entire lineage. How about that? I was cursed before I'd even been born. I told you I was damned. I never stood a chance."
"I don't understand. What curse?"
He drew a deep breath through his nose. Next would be the lecture. Déjà vu.
"My grandfather was a constable in Old Hungary. He once arrested a DV noblewoman for attacks upon young women. This countess paraded as an instructor of etiquette, and well-born families sent their daughters to her so she could teach them the ways of courtly life."
Marek rolled his head toward me. "She was a 'lution junkie with a mean streak you couldn't begin to imagine. Vicious is too soft a word to describe her. She committed blood crimes so atrocious they became legend, even among humans."
He paused as I draped a wet bandage across his other arm, watching my ministering hands with an expression I tried hard to ignore. If I acknowledged the tender regret warming in his eyes, I'd die with him.
"When my grandfather arrested her, she cursed him and his line. The Unseen had heard and her curse became bound by the darkest powers. He tried to push for a lesser sentence in order to appease her, to spare his family, but it was too late. Eventually she died in captivity. Or so they thought."
Marek sighed and closed his eyes. "They were deceived. She'd evolved. She'd been planning her own revenge all this time. We never knew. Why would we? There are no female vampires."
"The DV were wrong?"
"As we often are when it comes to underestimating the power of a determined woman."
I kept my eyes on the floor. I would not be distracted by pretty apologies now.
"And so, finally, she came for us. I was ambushed last night, by vamps who would avenge the insult against Erzebet Bathory. I would Fall in the name of the Vampiress Irony."
He opened his eyes, soft green wedges of lime light. "The vampires succeeded. They overwhelmed me. They plunged me into a sea of deaths and I drowned. My soul was so weak, Sophie. I'm sorry. I couldn't hold onto my soul."
"No." I shook my head. Bathory. Female vampires. It was unreal, even against the starkness of my unreal life and my completely off-the-map week. I pushed my sleeve up past my elbow and held out my wrist. "Share my blood."
He closed his eyes again and whimpered. "No."
"Do it. You don't have to hurt me. I know my blood helped you before. It helped Rode..."
Deceptive calm settled his anguish. "You shared blood with Rodrian?"
Faster than I could follow it, his hand shot out, grabbing my arm and pulling me against him. The movement was too sudden for me to evade. He drew me close to his face and breathed me in. Tender regret vanished in a whip crack of jealousy. "What else have you shared with him?"
"Let me go!" I struggled against him, trying to push without pushing against unseen hurts or raw skin. Marek released me with a tug and I got off the couch. "In case you've forgotten, you don't own me."
He didn't look the least bit apologetic. "You will always be mine."
"You're not my keeper. I'm going to be happy with someone someday. Someone who loves me."
"I love you," he said. The anger in his voice didn't belong with those words, giving them new meaning. "I never stopped. I could not be with you any longer."
"Why not?"
"I'd hurt you. You deserve love, Sophie, and life, and happiness. I couldn't give you those things anymore, and I wouldn't allow my damnation to taint you."
"You did hurt me, Marek. I won't forgive you for going to face the Master. Rode told me." I turned away from him so he couldn't protest. "You'd planned it all along. Everything's the way it is now because of the choice you made. You are where you are because of you and only you."
I went back to the ice bucket and picked out a thick cloth, squeezing it a little. The cold water made goose bumps charge up my arms as I walked behind the couch. Gathering his ponytail, I gently held it up while I smoothed out the cloth around the back of his neck. I tugged out the elastic and carefully combed my fingers through his hair, remembering the silk, how it had once felt against my skin.
Another selfish indulgence. Reluctantly I pulled my hand away. It wasn't fair. He'd been mine once. He should never have stopped being mine.
Marek leaned forward, covering his face with his hands. "I have made so many mistakes. I have done so much to regret. I die knowing that instead of the love you deserve, I give you pain, right to the very end."
"First off, you are not dying. Second, whatever else there is can wait." I dug the cell phones out of my pocket. Flipping Rodrian's phone open, I began beeping through the contact list. "I'm calling Pontian. He'll know what to do."
"You can't reach him." His voice was grim. "Pontian has Fallen."
A cold lump hit the bottom of my stomach as that particular hope hit the skids. "How do you know?"
"Because it was him that Irony sent to ambush me."
That name again. "A vampiress named Irony?"
"Yes. In life she was the DV Countess Bathory of Hungary, my grandfather's cousin."
Why did that name ring a bell? I mumbled the name, trying to work out the sound. Irony, Iron, I-ron...Irene? "Irony. Spelled E-i-r-e-n-e?"
His derisive laugh confirmed my suspicion. "What a vain creature she is. Eirene, the Greek word for peace. The only peace that wretched thing will know is when her cursed unlife winks out of existence once and for all."
"Um..." I sat down beside him. "It did."
"What?"
"Eirene. She's, um, no more. She's an ex-vampire."
His gaze threatened to pierce me as he evaluated the words and silently awaited the explanation.
"Toby is wiping up her ashes right now, as far as I know."
"Toby? The young Were who tags along after you?" Some things never changed, apparently. Marek was ready to meet damnation but was still firmly entrenched in his prejudice against Weres. "Rodrian described him as much less useful. He killed a female vampire?"
I shook my head. "No. Technically, I did. It was Sophie, in the pool room, with the UV lights."
Marek stared at me with an open mouth, and I reached over and pushed his jaw closed and tried not to look too self-satisfied.
"So. You do have the ability to kill when it's justified."
My half-grin faded. "Not this nonsense again."
"You killed a vampire."
Shrugging, I made a face. "One, it doesn't count because she was dead already. Two, the sunlight did it, not me."
"It does not alter the fact. You can kill me before I Fall."
"I am not listening to this!"
"Do you love me?"
That floored me. I gave him an incredulous look. "How could you even ask that?"
"It's important."
"And it wasn't important for the last, oh, I don't know, year and a half?"
Issuing a frustrated noise, he made a thin line of his mouth. "Tell me. Do you love me?"
With that, he silently commanded it from me.
"Yes." I glared at him as the word obediently slid out. "But not in the way you're asking."
The compulsion released me and I tasted surprise in his power. "Oh?"
I faced him and steadied my nerve for the truth. I'd killed a vampire, right? Certainly I was capable of telling my ex how I felt. God knows I'd practiced enough in my head. Final curtain went up. Deep breath.
"You betrayed me by risking everything we could have had together, and I still loved you. You physically wounded me, but I know it wasn't your choice. There was no reason to leave. The worst had passed. We'd survived the absolute worst that could have happened to us and I still wanted you. You weren't protecting me by staying away. You were strangling me. You cut me off from everything that mattered. That's how you hurt me."
My eyes stung and my voice trembled but I didn't retreat. This was no time to be weak. Looking at the man I would love the rest of my life, whether or not he was in it, I planted my resolve and faced him. This could be the last chance I had to tell him.
"I love you, Marek. I never stopped. I loved you as you walked out on me. I loved you when you blew me off me over and over every time I tried to be nice. I loved you as I cried and finally convinced myself you'd never love me again. I'd still give my life for you a thousand times over, without hesitation, without regret."
Looking away, I wiped away the bitter tears I couldn't keep from spilling until I could speak again. Apology gleamed in his unshed tears.
"I love you, Marek." I looked down at his plaintive face and brushed my fingers along his cheek. "But not enough to kill you."
The sun raced across the sky and the horizon reached up to catch it. Nature itself fought against us. The one day I couldn't let end sped to its death.
So did Marek.
"Sophie."
I couldn't look at him. If his eyes looked the way his voice sounded, I'd shatter.
Perched on a bar stool, I went through Rodrian's phone contact list, hoping to get someone useful to pick up. More often than not, I ended up poking the end button in irritation as yet another perky or sultry or far-too-familiar female voice answered the phone with a smile in her voice. Apparently Rode's phone was more of a little black book than a useful organization tool. What a slut.
Two dents. I'll hit him with both phones when he gets home. At least my survival instincts still worked. I mustn't have been as overwrought by panic and frustration as I had thought if I could still manage to be petty about Rodrian's taste in women.
"Sophie, please. Look at me." His mournful eyes held more than regret. "Sophie, it hurts."
Sympathy welled where his pitiful words poked holes in my armor. Setting the phone on the bar, I sighed. "Can my blood ease the pain?"
"It might. But it won't change the outcome, and I don't know what strength a Sophia's blood will give a vampire."
"Stop saying that. Can't you just kill yourself?" I asked in frustration.
"Suicide is damning. What is the point of dying with my soul intact if suicide will doom me to Hell?"
"It was just a thought."
"Glad to see you are still looking out for me, dear," he responded. "But there's no alternative. My brother is not here. There is no one else. You have to do it."