how alienated and strange I feel knowing that a part of me is gargoyle, not human. How much more awful must it feel to be a vampire and know that by the time you’re free, you will have lost the most basic building block of who you are?
It’s a terrible thought, the idea of being responsible for stripping Hudson of his very identity. But at the same time, what’s the alternative? Set him free and hope he doesn’t decide to use his very formidable powers to launch a war on the entire world?
He’s done absolutely nothing to earn the kind of trust that would require.
“You’re right,” he tells me after a second.
“About what?”
He rolls over on the bed, gives me his back. And says, “You don’t have a clue what it’s like to be me.”
It’s a true statement but also a hurtful one, and for long seconds I stand there wondering how to respond. But in the end, there is no response—or at least no good response—and I decide now might be the perfect time for me to take that shower. In the mood he’s in, I’m pretty sure Hudson will have absolutely no interest in breaking his promise.
“I wouldn’t break my promise anyway.” The comment slides insidiously into my mind, so slowly and quietly that it takes me a moment to even recognize it for what it is.
But once I do, I can’t help answering back: I know. Because I do, even though I don’t know how I know.
It’s only later, after I’m washing the conditioner out of my hair, that something occurs to me. It wasn’t that I was bored when I first got to my room. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to do with myself that made me unable to settle.
It was the fact that Hudson wasn’t there, in my head, saying all the ridiculous, snarky, hilarious things that he normally says that had me so discombobulated.
It doesn’t make any sense, but somehow, in the space of only a couple of days, I’ve grown used to having his voice in my head. I’ve grown used to his running commentary and his puffed-up opinions and even the way he pushes at me to get me to admit what I really think and feel.
I don’t know how it happened when I hate the guy and everything he stands for—everything he once did. But it did happen, and now I don’t have a clue what to do about the fact that maybe, just maybe, I’m beginning to think of Hudson as something more than an enemy. Not a friend—I’m not childish enough to lower my guard that much—but something that isn’t entirely hateful, either.
It’s not the best description ever, and I expect a snarky comment as soon as I make it, but nothing comes. Because Hudson is doing what he said he would—giving me the privacy I need.
And that just makes me more confused.
I get out of the shower and dry off so quickly that my PJs are still sticking to damp spots when I brush my teeth and finally head to bed.
As I slide under my covers, I glance over at Macy’s side of the room and realize Hudson is gone. He’s so quiet that I figure he must be asleep. Which is probably a good thing, considering I have to think, really think, and the last thing I need right now is him peering over my shoulder while I do.
Because the truth is, I can’t just sit around waiting for him to do something awful. I can already feel cracks in the shield I put up to keep him locked away, and who knows what he’ll do once it’s weak enough for him to get through?
Now that it’s the weekend, I’ve got to step up my search for the objects I need to get him out of my head. Jaxon reminded me just how dangerous and untrustworthy he is. Add that to the cracks in the wall…and suddenly it’s beginning to feel like it’s going to be days, not weeks, before he breaks through.
And then we’ll all be screwed.
45
Leave Your Daddy
Issues at the Door
I wake up to a screaming alarm and sunlight filtering in through the one window in our dorm room.
“Turn it off,” Macy complains from her bed, where she’s busy shoving a pillow over her head. “For the love of God, turn it off.”
I do, but then I roll out of bed because it’s nine fifteen and I have to be in the