rubbed his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut, then turned to look me straight in the eyes. “Kate, it’s not a weakness to be traumatized by death, especially after experiencing your own parents’ death. It’s not a weakness to want a normal relationship—one where you don’t have to watch your boyfriend be carried home in a body bag a couple of times a year. No one is going to die because of you. I can still save people without dying. I just have to be more cautious.”
“But you had to go against your instincts today. Isn’t that risky?”
“Honestly, Kate, yes. But I was able to come up with a plan B. You saw . . . it was probably an even better plan to stop the truck, since it would have hit a car or maybe someone else if it had kept going. So in this case, not following my instinct was a good thing.” He looked like he was trying to convince himself.
I hesitated. “Maybe that’s why JB doesn’t encourage human-revenant relationships. Because that’s kind of what it comes down to, isn’t it? If you’re concerned about me, it will distract you from saving other people.”
Vincent’s face grew dark. “You mean more to me than anyone else, and I will not apologize for that.” I felt chilled, but not from the winter air. “Are you saying that my life is more valuable than other people’s? That, say, my one life is worth a couple you could have saved if you hadn’t been worrying about me? Because, honestly, that would be pretty hard to live with.” Vincent took my hand back. “Kate, how long is a human life?”
“I don’t know . . . eighty to ninety years, maybe?”
“And you are seventeen. This is horrible to say, but . . .”
His meaning dawned on me slowly. “I only have another sixty or something years to live. Tops. So you only have to hold out for that long.” His silence was as good as a yes. “During those years, the chances of a human dying because I don’t will be slim to none. I always walk with my kindred, and if there’s ever a life-or-death situation, they can be the ones to make the sacrifice.
“From my point of view, the time you and I have together is short. After that . . . I can spend the rest of eternity making up for lost lifesaving time, if that’s how you want to think about it.”
We sat in silence, the images called up by his words too disturbing for me to talk about out loud.
“Okay,” I said finally. “Even so, Vincent, we’re still left with the fact that you’re going to spend the rest of my mortal life suffering. I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sound like a cake-and-ice-cream lifetime to me. To be honest, it makes me want to call off our agreement.” His eyes opened wide. “No.”
“I don’t like to think about you going against your nature for me. I don’t want to watch you suffer. Your dying for people—like you’re supposed to—
is the easiest solution to this whole mess. And I’m strong, Vincent. I think I can take it.” The quaver in my voice gave me away.
A look of determination replaced his astonishment. He scooted closer and wrapped his arms around me. “Kate, knowing you, just thinking of my deaths will make you pull back from me. So please don’t give up on this plan yet. Not before you give me the chance to figure things out. I’m working on a solution. A way to make it all work. Give me time.”
As he held me, the last remaining threads of my resolve snapped. I shrugged, feeling powerless. “Vincent, if you think you can come up with something that will solve all our problems, then for God’s sake, do it. I’m just saying I’m releasing you from your promise, not that I’m leaving you.”
“I’m afraid you will leave me—for totally understandable self-preservation purposes—if you think I’m going to die,” Vincent insisted. “So I won’t.
Our agreement is still on. Okay?”
I nodded, feeling awash in a sense of relief while at the same time kicking myself for it. “Okay.” Pulling back to see my face, he smiled ruefully and fingered a strand of hair that had fall en across my face. “Kate, I admit that we aren’t in the easiest of situations. But are you always this . . . complicated?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but Vincent shook his head, grinning. “Actually, don’t