‘Just today,’ says Kyle. ‘Would you mind showing Emily around while I rest? She hasn’t been here before. She, er, lives in night, mostly.’
‘Oh?’ Ruth’s head tilts, her brown eyes fixed on me. ‘Of course. I don’t have much planned today though – I hope it won’t be too boring for you.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, somewhat absentmindedly. Kyle has picked up the plastic pouch and I’ve just realised it’s filled with blood. The plastic is opaque, milky coloured, the liquid dark inside. He’s drinking it through the straw and I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. I frown, opening my mouth to ask him. He widens his eyes slightly, shaking his head. I stop. This must be something I should know.
Ruth, thankfully, hasn’t noticed. She’s gone back to the kitchen and returns, holding another bowl of broth. ‘May as well join you two,’ she says. ‘It’s almost breakfast time.’
It is? It’s time for me to sleep, usually. I drink more of the delicious broth, feeling the goodness all through me. I yawn, putting my spoon down, my hand covering my mouth.
‘I’ll take you to the safe room in a moment,’ Ruth says. ‘Do you need a rest, dear? Or would you like to go out straight away?’
‘Um, a rest, I think. If that’s okay?’ I’m sleepy. I also need some time alone with Kyle. Not just to be with him, but also because I’m realising how unprepared I am.
‘Of course. Give me a minute to get the bed made up.’ Ruth gets up, heading into the hallway. Kyle puts his arm around me.
‘You feeling okay?’
I nod. ‘Much better.’
‘Good.’ He kisses me. ‘You had me worried.’
Ruth comes back in. ‘All ready for you.’
Kyle gets up, offering me his hand. I take it and stand, pleased to realise I can. We follow Ruth into the hallway. A heavy-looking door at one end is ajar, the room beyond dark except for the faint glimmer of a candle-lamp.
‘I put the light on for you,’ says Ruth, smiling at me. ‘We’ll go out, once you’ve had a rest. Kyle—’ she takes his arm, leading him away from me ‘—do you have a minute? I just need to ask you something.’
I enter the room, the door closing behind me with a heavy thud. The space is small and square, no windows, the walls painted blue. There’s a double bed against one wall, made up with white bedding, spotlessly clean. Next to it on one side is a small table with a single candle-lamp, a jug of water and a bowl. On the other side are two wooden caskets. There isn’t room for anything else. I slip my jacket off, hanging it on one of several hooks on the wall. Sitting on the bed, I lie back, sighing in relief. There’s a murmur of voices from the hallway, but I’m too tired to listen to what they’re saying. The voices stop and the door opens, letting in Kyle. He hangs up his jacket, then lies on the bed next to me. I turn to him and, to my horror, start crying.
What the hell?
Here I am, alone in a room with my impossibly sexy vampire boyfriend at the start of our new life together, and all I can do is cry. A part of me is shoutingWhat are you doing? Make the most of this!But I can’t seem to stop. I realise it must be reaction, the combination of tiredness and leaving home and the horrible events at the border station overwhelming me. Kyle is great, cuddling me until my tears become sniffles, stroking my hair.
‘You okay?’
I huff out a laugh because I’m really not. ‘I hate being human.’ Shit. Where did that come from?
‘What? I thought this was what you wanted, to live a human life.’
‘I hate it. I hate it so much. I wish I was like you.’ More words, tumbling out of me. It’s like a wall has broken down. I’ve never told anyone this, other than my parents. It’s unbearably intimate, being alone in this dark room with him, the gleam of his silver eyes watching as I unburden myself, his hands stroking me. ‘I wish I was stronger, faster, could do… all the things you do! Fuck.’
‘Hey.’ Kyle shifts and I roll onto my back, his weight half on me. He kisses me. ‘I love you just how you are, Emelia Raven. If you weren’t human, you wouldn’t be you.’
‘But,’ I say between kisses, ‘if I were vampire we could run together, we could do everything! We wouldn’t have had to leave. And you wouldn’t have to protect me.’
‘And then we would never have met.’ He smiles, his hair falling forward to tickle my forehead.
Well. That’s a pretty solid argument. I’m unable to think of anything to refute it, his kisses distracting.
He lifts his head. ‘Emelia, I get it, believe me. But you’ve lived a life of privilege beyond any human I’ve ever met. Did anyone ever try to, um, change you?’
I nod. He pulls back, eyebrows raised.
‘Really? What happened?’
What happened? Ugh. It was awful. My mother’s blood-streaked visage still shows up occasionally in nightmares. I’d begged her to work the blood magic on me, hating my soft pink body with its monthly blood and embarrassment, its weakness and emotion. My father had refused any part in it, his disdain almost as tough to take as my mother’s tears. It was a disaster from start to blood-soaked finish. I turn my wrist, the glow from the candle-lamp catching the faint scar shimmering on my wrist. It’s almost invisible, only seen from the right angle. But the scars inside me are still there. I feel their tug, can pick at them, on my darkest days. I never asked her to change me again.
‘Um, well, it turns out I’m immune,’ I mutter. ‘Because my parents are vampires. I already have the blood magic within me.’ I tense. Maybe he won’t want to stay with me now he knows I’ll never be like him.
