Maxim was grinning.This might be just another day at the office for him.Maybe this is fun for him?
“I promise.”
“Oh, excellent.”Maxim opened a cabinet behind the desk and pulled out a plastic box approximately the size of a shoebox.He opened it to reveal a massive collection of pens and pencils in all the colors of the rainbow.“I tell him I like fancy things to get him to try new things.”He picked out a gel liner and twirled it in his fingers, then put it on the desk.“Oh, you’ll need a notebook.Bottom drawer on your right.Pick whichever one you like.”
Raven turned in the chair and opened the drawer Maxim had indicated.He picked up the topmost notebook, then just looked at it.
“You want me to write my confession.”
“No.You study literature, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“So you can analyze a text, taking into consideration a given set of criteria?”
Raven nodded.“Of course.”
Maxim picked up the gel pen again.“Is this the notebook you want?”
“Sure.This is fine.”
Maxim took it.“I know the Forum’s press people don’t always tell the wider media straight up what we do, and by ‘we’ I mean hunters such as myself.Let me boil it down to the most important tenets.One: stop all supernaturals who can be said to exploit humans or other supernaturals.”He wrote it out, underlining “exploit.”His cursive was neat and even, very old-fashioned.
“Two: stop all those who profit from humans or other supernaturals in a criminal way.”He underlined “criminal” and shrugged.“There’s a whole legal code, but it’s built on reciprocity.Act only in such a way in which you would wish to be acted upon.So a criminal act might be, for instance, restricting another’s movements against their wishes.Three: stop all humans who can be said to exploit supernaturals.Four: stop all humans who profit from supernaturals in a criminal way.Five: stop all those who, through their action or inaction, endanger the supernatural community as a whole, and six: protect those who cannot protect themselves.Not too complicated, no?”
Raven couldn’t speak, he could only nod.Tears had stolen his voice.
Maxim put down the pen.“Write down the things you did that would require me to stop you, considering these core duties.Write down where you have done—with intent and forethought—what would require me to punish you, Raven.It’s a whole notebook, but I doubt you’d fill a page.”
Raven opened his mouth.A whine came out.
“It’s fine.It’s fine.You didn’t do anything wrong, do you see that now?”
Raven didn’t quite.Everything felt wrong.Everything was too much, everything muddled together, and the memory of Daniel watching him and biting into his toast was almost overwhelming.The crunch.Cherry jelly.He’d put cherry jelly on the toast.They had killed Prof.LeRoux’s husband first and torn pieces out of him.
A terrifying sound filled the penthouse.Raven knew it was him, whimpering, sobbing.He couldn’t stop.At some point, Maxim had gone to his knees, and Raven slid off the chair onto the floor, his arms falling around Maxim’s neck.The world was far away, a distant thing, the home of another person entirely.
Chapter 21
Raventrembledoneachexhale, clinging to Maxim as if he were the cold and Raven a sliver of ice, afraid of melting.Maxim held him loosely, stroking his back, hoping that would ease the tremors.
This must’ve been a lot.He didn’t drink as much as most fledges would, and it’s not just the change that has him in its grip.He has to be exhausted.
Raven wasn’t giving any indication that he was ready to move.His voice had failed him a while ago, his throat raw from the keening and only allowing him a low whine.Maxim wasn’t sure what was best at this stage.It had been different for him.He’d been younger, a child.He’d thought his guilt was in survival.Yet the vampire who was to turn him a fledge, who’d raised him first, had killed the lot of them, those other vampires who’dtaken.Once Maxim was well enough to walk again, his maker-to-be had taken him to where she’d buried his family.
Maxim paid attention to controlling his breathing, forcing it to remain slow, steady.He’d still been feverish at the time, but the memory of the mounds of turned earth in the meadow Brea had chosen remained with him to this day.He remembered everything: the wind, the smell of the blanket he’d been wrapped in—smoke and grass—the incredibly blue sky with the clouds bright against it, fluffy as the bread dough his mother used to make.He didn’t remember his mother’s face.
Maxim focused on the corner of the bookshelf that he could see over Raven’s shoulder.He focused on his breathing.He focused on Raven’s scent: the fear, the dog, and the scents from the park, soap underneath all of that.He knew Raven would be more comfortable resting in his own bed.
“Raven, I’m going to pick you up and carry you downstairs.Just hold on to me.”
Maxim waited, but there was no reaction.He hadn’t expected one, wasn’t even sure Raven could hear him right now.He picked him up.Raven was light, just like when Maxim had first found him—when he had taken him from his tormentor with nothing better to offer than his own blood.Raven’s hold was strong though.On the stairs, he didn’t let go, and even when Maxim put him on the guest bed, he didn’t budge.
Maxim had to move Raven’s arms, keeping his touch as soft as he could.In the process, their eyes met.Raven’s were bloodshot, almost red, and it made his irises stand out brighter, at least the thin ring of blue that remained, his panic and fear still too great to let the pupil shrink back to normal.
“We’re in your room.You must be tired.You can get some rest here.Just lie back and close your eyes.”
Lie back.Those were the words.Raven’s eyes widened, and a whimper escaped his raw throat.Maxim knew then that they’d said those words to him, and he knew Raven was in that memory, couldn’t escape it.
