They walked closer to one of the fountains, having to pass it to get to the next hole, and she missed the end of his sentence. “Did you say you help families?”
“No I said it was a family business…of sorts. But no longer.” He bit his lip, and she could tell he was thinking about something. “My previous employment was not satisfying. But now that I am here…I suppose that here I have the luxury of doing what I want. Or not working at all. Although that seems particularly self-indulgent.” His blue eyes fixed on hers. “I have a history of making poor choices. Ones that cannot be fixed or erased, and truly, I doubt I could start anew even if I wished it.”
Val wrote down the score for the last hole. So far, he was winning. What was it with men and sports? He’d never played before, seemed distracted by the windmills, and yet he was still winning.
“Well, what would you like to do?”
His head tilted to the side, and he nodded very slowly. “I…had not gotten that far. I do not believe that I could help enough people to balance the scales, but I suppose I could try. I have a lot of money,” he said, as if it were just barely relevant.
She decided to focus on the mistake part of that statement, rather than the money part. “Everyone has regrets. You just have to try not to make them again.”
She felt his hand graze her cheek, “I would like very much to make sure that I never make them again. If there was a way that I could do that, I would.” Tears filled her eyes. His tone was so laced with grief and regret, that she wondered what he wanted to make amends for. A small part of her wondered at the oddness of his confession. The way he talked, one would think he was a murderer or something. But he was a good man; she knew it.
Inexplicably, she wanted to reassure him. He wasn’t evil. She just knew it. It was a certainty deep inside of her, like the difference between right and left. Once you knew, you always knew. “You are not a bad man, Lucas.”
“You do not know that.” He gave her a gentle smile, almost thankful, and said, his tone slightly hoarse, as though he were just as emotional as she was. “Do you have regrets, my Valkyrie?”
The weight of his attention was warm, his nearness comforting and almost hypnotizing. She found herself answering seriously, and didn’t look too closely at the reasons. Here they were, a sunny day, kids screaming all around them, and she felt as if they were talking about life and death. She was close enough to touch him, and the idea of reaching out and touching his solid chest or his muscled arm was tempting. She felt as if it were her right to touch him, which didn’t make any sense. She could seek comfort in him, and be honest with him, in a way that she didn’t even like to admit to herself. Her next words slipped out of her mouth before she could think them through. “I’m a coward,” she said. “And I wish I wasn’t. Sometimes it seems like all I do is make decisions that are safe and boring.”
“That is not cowardice. Neither is it permanent. You simply decide to behave differently, to do the right thing, and you are instantly brave. But what have you had to be brave about, Valerie Dearborn? What could you have failed in this place?” He looked around them as if where they were might suddenly change. “You misjudge yourself. Underestimate your abilities. You know how to fight; you are smart and capable. You can save yourself, Valerie Dearborn, you have just forgotten how strong you are.”
Or maybe I’ve never had anything I needed to be strong for. She turned away, her gaze stopping on two teenagers trying to swallow each other’s tongues. “Good point. I don’t know…it’s just this sense, I guess, that I’m not really living. I’m existing, or doing something wrong.”
He nodded, expression severe and grave. “You are doing something wrong. You are losing this game of small golf.”
“I can’t believe I’m losing to a guy who doesn’t even know what it’s called,” she said, laughing and stepped up to the next hole, determined to keep the rest of the date lighthearted.
Chapter 20
MINI-GOLF ended, and they walked across the street to a brightly-lit restaurant with a menu several pages long.
For Lucas, it was a peculiar experience. Firstly, he wasn’t sure he knew this Valerie. In some ways, she was relaxed. She would joke and laugh and seemed comfortable in her own skin, but he knew she was uneasy around him, and that was something he didn’t know how to fix.
He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. It was clear she did not remember him. No matter what he said—or tried not to say—he had no sense of recognition from her. It was truly as though he were meeting her for the first time. He wanted her to remember him. At least, he thought he did. Valerie had never looked at him in quite this way…as though he were a man. Just a man who wanted to court her. Even though he could tell she didn’t quite understand why he was interested in her, which he also found unfathomable. If anyone knew the true value of an exterior, it was him.
Valerie was not just beautiful on the inside; she was beautiful on the outside as well, as if it radiated out of her, her goodness and positivity. He feared his inside was as black as his soul, and that if she remembered him—truly remembered him—she wouldn’t look at him in this new way ever again.
And of course, the other question was, why were they here? She had built up this life, made it for herself; this was a refuge from Virginia and in it she was…common. Was this actually her fairy tale? To have a job where she taught students and dated? To drive her car and pay bills?
He did not fit in a world like this. He knew bloodshed and death, not games with tiny replicas of buildings and plans for the future. He did not understand driving in a car to get somewhere…and frankly, it was terrifying to be so vulnerable. And yet, hadn’t he felt engaged in a way he’d never done before?
In a sense, what they were doing, these simple things like playing mini-golf and talking about him and his feelings and life were exhausting. Because they involved him.
Lucas did not involve himself with life. Not anymore. He was like a spider—he sat and waited for something to catch his interest. And in the meantime he thought of nothing, wanted nothing.
Until she came along and made my world colorful again.
He was as emotionally dead as he was physically dead. But here he wasn’t. And in order to have her, he couldn’t be. He would have to discard who he had been for hundreds of years and become someone else.
A frightening prospect, to say the least.
This was her life now. Maybe all she would ever know about the world, for she might never come out of this state. And where did that leave him? Hadn’t he done this to her? Meddled in her life for decades and brought her to this point?
At least, until Virginia or Cerdewellyn killed him. Or, until he became too weak to see her again. How long might that be? Tonight? Tomorrow? A year from now? Or more. What if he had a life here with her? He took in a shaky breath. A life. Time with her, where he was someone else.
The last thing in the world I deserve.
He wouldn’t leave her here. As long as she wanted him to stay, he would. As long as he could keep Virginia unaware of Valerie’s existence he would do so. Maybe she would remember, maybe in time the memories would come to her, and they wouldn’t harm her. Until something happened, he had no choice but play along with her fantasy. And didn’t he owe her that, after all he’d done?
And isn’t that convenient, he thought snidely. He wanted her, and she wanted him. Even though she didn’t know him, she wanted him. And he wanted her in a way that was beyond description. His desire for her wasn’t magical, didn’t revolve around blood and plotting. There was no power struggle and manipulation. It was pure—his wanting a beautiful and desirable woman. In a way, this was a gift. To feel the sun on his face, to play mini-golf and eat real food. Life for him had been like watching a movie; he had seen it but not experienced it, and now he was.
There were no vampires. No one wanted anything from him. Except for her. She wanted him as a lover, or a boyfriend. He’d taken everything from her, and this was all she want
ed from him. To pretend that he could be…just a man.
Lucas closed his eyes, felt like laughing hysterically. How was he to be a man? What did it entail? She didn’t want him to kill anyone for her. Or to buy her anything. She did not want things he understood. She wanted him as he could never be.
The thought was terrifying, and he knew why, but didn’t want to look too closely at it. Since he had drunk her blood, he spent his days shrouded in shame and regret. Grief for the devil he had become. She wanted him to discard that and be happy.
But he didn’t deserve it. That was the rub. He did not deserve to play at happiness and at being a man.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Val said. Lucas looked up, meeting her gaze and smiled. It struck her as sad somehow, but she wasn’t sure why.
“So why do you teach history?” Lucas asked.
“I like history,” Val said, while they waited for their cheesecake. He seemed unconvinced by the concept of a cake made with cheese, but she knew that once he tasted it, he’d change his mind. “It’s just so relatable.”
“I do not understand,” he said and his attention drifted away from her, scanning the restaurant before returning. He reminded her of a cop, the way he continuously looked around, checking their surroundings as if he were always on the lookout for danger.
Valerie shrugged, and she hoped that when she started talking, she didn’t sound like a moron. “History is made up of extremes. We don’t know anything about normal stuff. Only when things combine to screw up on a level like they hadn’t before. Like the Donner Party. There were so many decisions that were made, and so many points where if they had just done something a little differently, they would have been all right. All those people wouldn’t have died. But they made bad decisions, even impossible ones, and then they got stuck in the worst winter in hundreds of years. Roanoke was the same,” she said, and thanked the waiter as he put the cheesecake, with two forks, between them.
Lucas stilled, ignoring the cake, watching her intently. “I am afraid I do not know that period of time well. What about Roanoke?”
Val blinked. For some reason, she thought he was lying to her, but that didn’t make any sense. “Well, it was just a number of errors, one after the other. They didn’t get along with the natives, so they had no one to help them. It was the worst drought in hundreds of years, so they had no food. England couldn’t send ships because they were worried about being invaded by the Spanish. And when they did get a ship to check on the settlers over a year later, they were forced to go back because of the weather. If any of those things had been different, the colony might have survived. And then we never would have heard about them.”
“We only know the failures,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes, but…” Val didn’t know how to make him understand how it moved her. Not just as a student, or someone who liked history, but on a personal level. “I always wonder if they knew. If they were able to look back at a certain point, and pinpoint the moment they chose wrong. Did you know the Donner Party missed the summit by a day? If they had gotten there one day earlier, they would have been over the Sierras and home free. But they thought the first winter storm was a few weeks away, and so they took a break, let the kids play, let the men rest, gave the animals a chance to eat and prepare for the last push, and all that time the weather was changing. Those hours where they thought they were safe were the fatal ones.”
“You feel they should have seen the danger. That they were foolish for lingering.”
Valerie felt defensive, and she couldn’t say why. She picked up her fork and poked at the cake a bit, speaking without looking at him. “No, I don’t think they were foolish. I think they didn’t know. And I couldn’t imagine living with that mistake. Watching the snow come down, everyone going hungry, and knowing that it was my fault.”
He covered her hand with his, the warmth of him seeping into her. His touch was electric, stole her breath and distracted her from her dark thoughts. He lifted her chin, so he could see her clearly, and she blinked rapidly, hoping he would pretend not to notice her pathetic sadness.
“You grieve for people long gone. For impossible situations and tragedies that had nothing to do with you. Everyone makes mistakes, Valkyrie. It is just that usually they do not have dire consequences. You cannot look at history from that way—as a series of mistakes. You must see it as a sequence of reactions. Of attempts to fix things and make the best decisions at that time. We know where they went wrong, but they did not, and could not see it the way we do.”
Her words were a whisper, “Do you think they felt guilty? That the enormity of their mistakes, the cost of lives was something they knew and regretted? Do you think people blamed them? Did they make peace with the death that was coming for them?”
His smile was tragic, his words low and almost inaudible. “Maybe they did not know they were going to die. Maybe they had hope to the very end.”
“You don’t believe that,” she said. For some reason, that pissed her off. As if he were placating her.
“It does not matter what I believe. The past is done. Hope is irrelevant. We measure success and failure in history with a cost of lives. Penicillin saved people, and the world wars exterminated them. Success and failure. Feelings, regrets, the point where they knew they made mistakes…it is interesting but unfortunately, irrelevant. Did they go to their death and grieve for what they did? Did the makers of the atomic bomb grieve for the destruction they dedicated their lives towards creating? Who cares? They did it. Whether they knew what they were creating, or whether they talked themselves into believing it was for the best, the glory of history is being able to view it in black-and-white.” His voice was cold. “However honorable one’s initial intention, a villain will always be a villain.”
“So you don’t believe in redemption?”
He leaned closer to her, words a whisper, intense and cold. “Why would you ask me such a thing?”
She swallowed. He was too close, too intimate, the way he watched her making her feel like there was no escape and that he would lay her soul bare. “Because I want to know you,” she said.
He smiled grimly. “And questions of redemption and mistakes will tell you of me? Do you see me for my villainous nature? Heroes are not born; they make the correct choice. No matter what. They choose what is best for all and not for themselves.”
“Your villainous nature? No!” she said, aware that he was shutting down. She didn’t want him to become distant or polite; she wanted to talk to him, really understand him. “I think of it because I wonder what I would have done. If I would have been brave, or if I would have been weak. No one sets out to be a hero, Lucas. They find themselves in a situation they cannot get out of, and all they can do is act. If they act correctly, we call them a hero. If they freeze or let fear overcome them, then they aren’t.”
Lucas took a sip of water, setting it back down carefully, as if he were buying himself time to think. “But those people do not deserve forgiveness. They do not deserve to…have a life or be happy.”
She reached over and held his hand, her touch electric. “We don’t get what we deserve, Lucas. We get what we bargain for. If there is no justice, then all one can do is go forward. And if sometimes, someone gets a second chance, then they just move on. They fix what they can, and they should never look back.” Valerie let go of him, tried to make a joke. “So, what about you Lucas, would you be a hero?”
He didn’t smile. He didn’t make a joke of how brave he would be, or how he would always save the day. The moment lengthened as her comment fell flat and died between them. He shook his head, and a flush spread up his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out.
“Never apologize to me, Valkyrie.”
Hot tears filled with eyes. “Oh my God! What is wrong with me? I’m a hormonal mess. It’s like my Coffeemate has been switched with estrogen.” Valerie was beyond mortified—getting sad about people long dead, feeling guilty for making a joke
about Lucas being a hero. She didn’t know why, but she felt it all personally. It was as if there were undercurrents to every conversation, and she was just trying to stay above water. To…keep him. To convince him to stay.
“Thank you,” he said quietly as she drove them back to the school.
“For what?”
“For…the day. For seeing things as you do.”
She shot him a look. “I don’t know what you saw. A slightly lowbrow date?”
“Do not do that,” he commanded. “Do not belittle yourself and who you are. I am grateful to spend time with you. To see you in a place where you thrive. I thank you for that.”
Val’s hands clenched on the wheel, and she didn’t know what to say. It was the end of the date. She was supposed to let him go now. Not be a slut and take him home with her. But he felt like…hers. The idea of him leaving scared her. As if he wouldn’t come back once he was gone.
He’s mine; she decided. She wouldn’t let him go. Ever. Confidence and hope bloomed inside of her, and she knew she was making the right choice. He was hers, and she would keep him. She turned to look at him, to see what he would say to coming home with her…and realized that they were standing in her kitchen.
Lucas blinked, looking around in shock as the setting changed. They had been in a car; the evening had been over, and now it was morning. The clock showed it to be 9am. But the kitchen was destroyed. The cupboards were open and bare. A sliding glass door that led outside was open.
“Oh my God,” Valerie said, looking at him with shock. “It wasn’t like this. I cleaned this. I’m sorry. This is so…embarrassing.”
“Was your home broken into?” he asked.
She crossed her arms. “Um, no. This isn’t right. I didn’t leave it like this. This was before you found me. I don’t want to live like this anymore,” she said, voice rising, close to hysterical.
Lucas came towards her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight to his chest. “Then we will clean it up,” he said, as if it were perfectly reasonable for her house to be such a mess.
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