To Save a Vampire - A.K. Koonce Page 0,27

he’s said that to me. This time without pain.

“You can speak freely now,” I whisper. I try to laugh, to find some emotion, but only a faulty breath escapes my lips.

His lips lift at the corner, but, like my own hazy happiness, it’s only a half-smile. He takes the water bottle and spills water onto the towel. After it’s soaked through, he takes my hand in his and removes my old bandage from yesterday. Yesterday. It seems like much more time has passed since I unwillingly let him bandage my self-inflicted wound.

The scraps of material are tossed on the floor and he gets started wiping blood from my hands. After a few minutes, I find that my shaky palms are no longer red. They are my own again. Normal again. A slow, well thought out breath meets my lungs and I let him finish bandaging my palm with a fresh towel. When he turns to stand, I grab his arm instinctively.

Confusion crosses his face, but he remains kneeling in front of me. I take the bloody rag from his hand and pick up the water bottle on the floor. Once the rag is drenched and dripping semi-clear water I bring it cautiously up to his neck. His intense eyes never leave my own as I press the cool rag to his skin. The blood is nearly dried, and I rub softly at the flecks. He closes his eyes as I wipe away the mess. I wipe away what I thought was going to happen to him. I wipe away the terrible thoughts that had burrowed into my mind. And I wipe away the idea of losing this hybrid who I now want to protect so badly simply because he needs our help.

I still don’t know what we are doing. What it is my mother intends for us to do to help him. I also no longer feel afraid of the secrets she keeps. Because whatever it is, I’ll do it. If it means saving him, I’ll do it.

He’s worth saving.

He sits on his knees at my feet, his hands fisted on either side of my legs. I move my free hand to the side of his head to steady my work. I find him leaning into my palm, and, strangely, I also find my palm lowering from his thick tangle of hair to his jaw line and neck. He’s breathing steadily, eyes still closed. I finished cleaning off his neck a minute ago but I keep brushing the rag lazily against his skin as my other palm traces his jaw line.

I’m just starting to memorize the shape of his lips when the back door opens and I hear Ky’s metal leg hit the tile floor. The simple clicking noise is enough to snap me out of my trance. I stand from my seat. Forty-four’s hands are still on either side of my legs against the chair, surrounding me. His eyes are unfocused when they open, but he drops his hands and allows me to awkwardly step around him from where he is on the floor. My mother and Ky enter the room and look from where I stand nervously near the table, my heart pounding its way out of my chest and up my throat, to where Forty-four is kneeling in front of the now empty chair.

I give a quick smile and grab a flashlight out of a bag as I rush past them. “It’s been a lot of fun,” I say, a mixture of nervousness and sarcasm. “The whole day, as a matter of fact, but I’m going to bed.” My mother opens and then closes her mouth. “Good night,” I say over my shoulder as I scurry up the stairs in the next room.

It’s odd to find how heavy silence can be. The house is quiet, and there is even a cool breeze coming in from the open window as dawn creeps over the skyline. Not a sound can be heard, yet my mind refuses to relax. I’m tense with worry and uneasiness and, for the first time in my life, it is caused by my mother. She’s keeping something from me. I saw it all over her face several times today.

I should start school again tomorrow. What if I don’t finish my last week? What if Shaw finds us? What if I never see Ayden or my camp family again?

The what-ifs are piling up in my mind without answers. Answers that no one seems too keen on