I reached out and took his hand—which was a lot cooler than mine due to his vampiric nature. “Sometimes it helps to say things out loud—it makes you think clearer.”
“Right. Well. It’s easy to forget that vampires are not, in fact, an entirely alien race like the fae from the fae realm, and while we are greatly improved, those enhancements don’t extend entirely over our humanity. In an ironic twist, it leaves some rather insidious holes that become worse the longer we’re alive—the stronger we become. One of those great weaknesses is our memory.” Considine played with my hand. “Human minds aren’t made to hold centuries of memories. So, you start to forget.”
I waited, quietly.
“It starts with small things—details in stories, the ability to remember what it felt like to be so fragile in health as a human, languages that aren’t spoken any more fade as you pick up new dialects and vocabulary, even skills that are no longer needed as your role in society changes, like foraging for plants. Things you don’t particularly miss in hindsight, except in recognizing that losing them served as harbingers of what was yet to come.”
My heart ached for him. It wasn’t that he sounded pained—quite the contrary. He soundedapatheticabout something that obviously caused him a lot of heartache—like he’d fought it for centuries and had discovered it wasn’t a battle he could win.
“After a couple of centuries, you begin to forget the faces of your human family and friends who have passed on. But you’re sodifferentas a vampire. It’s upsetting but seems like a natural and sad progression of the way things are. And then…your immortal friends begin to fall.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Jade
Something shifted in his eyes—from acceptance to something closer to breaking.
“Whether to sleep or to death, they’re gone. I spent millennia with Ambrose…and I can’t even recall with certainty what he looked like anymore. Several portraits of him have survived the eras, and I suspect what I do recall of his features is taken from the art, not the original.”
Considine intertwined his fingers with mine as I set my fork down on the plate.
“We were turned together—we were childhood friends as humans. I cannot remember the number of empires we witnessed the rise and fall of together, the number of countries we visited that no longer exist. And despite how much he meant to me, I can’t recall the sound of his voice.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
What else could I say?
I had never heard this kind of information about vampires. We slayers assumed they had a perfect, if not overly optimistic,recollection of the past, hence why they were always so hung up on it.
I’d never thought vampires could carry such a burden.
Considine shrugged.
“As time continues its merciless march, you have to adapt. Even if it feels like you’re leaving a trail of tiny flakes of your soul through the centuries.” He laughed—a harsh, shattered sound. “You know, I don’t even remember my original name. I adapted Considine from Constantine, and Constantine from Constantinople as a joke over a millennium ago…but I don’t even remember the name my parents gave me.”
He sighed. “All of this to say there is a reason why older vampires are so shut off from humans: because the pain of knowing there are memories and not being able to recall them and everything a person meant to you will haunt you for the rest of your existence, and that might not be an even exchange for a few decades of friendship, no matter how beautiful.”
Considine looked up, his eyes resting on me in a mixture of joy and dread.
This…this is why he’s become frantic. Why he’s taking so many pictures, why he’s obsessed with my safety.
“You think, one day, you’ll forget me, the way you’re starting to forget Ambrose?” I asked.
“If I cannot convince you to let me turn you, if I fail to protect you from the relentless march of time, yes,” Considine said.
I shook my head at his mistake. “I’m a slayer. Ican’tbe turned.”
“I suspect you can. It simply hasn’t been done before because there were no vampires who could have survived it since slayer blood is toxic.” Considine’s eyes seemed to light within. “Since we already know I can survive your blood due to my much more powerful healing abilities, that won’t hamper our efforts.”
I stared at him in shock, unable to form even a single thought. “What?”
“I’ve looked into it. With your leave, we can start small. We vampires can secrete a compound when we drink blood that will lengthen the lives of our blood donor. That would be some mental reassurance of your well-being to me and give you the time to consider if this is something you could want.” Considine, fast warming up to the topic, picked up my abandoned fork, got a scoopful of cake, and then held it out to me with the expectation that I’d let him feed me.
I, however, was struggling to restart my brain.
I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the idea of becoming a vampire. I knew Considine could survive my blood, but I never figured he’d even contemplatedrinkingit for the side effects!
