Page 40 of The Unraveling

Yet there’s no reason to tell Victor no.

Chapter 15

The mid-morning air breathes softly against us as we step onto the porch, Victor’s arm circling tight around my waist to keep me upright at his side. My feet feel leaden, thudding across the wood and down the few steps to the cobblestone path. I squint against the weak sunlight as if it might burn my eyes out of their sockets.

“The sky is so impossibly crisp and blue,” Victor says in astonishment. “So bright. The films pale in comparison.”

I hug myself tighter to him as he guides me between the flowerbeds lining the path and to the garden swing cast in a golden glow. The floral design of the backrest is a touch warm as we sit on the cushion, the seat creaking below us. I shift onto my hip, letting my head slide down his torso and into his lap as I fold my legs at my side.

Victor plants his foot and gently swings us, his fingers combing through the hair at my temple and following the thick strands down my shoulder. His stomach presses against me as he draws in a deep, audible breath.

“I can’t recall if I’ve ever seen a day so clear. So blue. Clouds so white.” He inhales again. “London was always drenched in a haze of smog, the skies stained gray with soot, or yellowed like pages of a neglected book as the dim sun fought to shine through. The chimneys—the factories—pumped poison into every breath. Some days it made me wish I’d never become a doctor. It colored everything. A baby’s first breath was their first taste of poison. Illness or air—every cough I heard had my heart pounding. How do you explain to a terrified mother that breathing is what’s making her toddler cough so hard he pukes? That her beautiful new green wallpaper is leaching arsenic and poisoning them, too? I felt like I could scream each time someone pleaded with me and asked what they could do.”

I place my palm on his thigh and spread my fingers, running my thumb back and forth, watching little birds grip the tall fence across the yard.

“I’m glad you at least get a chance to see it how I remember,” I whisper.

A dozen sunny memories flit through my mind. Countless days at playgrounds with my siblings. At school during recess. Hiking club. Field trips. Hot summer days at the beach with my family, trying to get my mother off her towel as she hugged her knees—grinning and watching us—like the sand was slowly creeping closer to her. Sunday mornings before church were more bearable with sunshine bursting through each big window of our little house, warmth soaking into my skin, and the taste of hot bacon and pancakes on my tongue.

So many sunny memories that I felt spoiled when Victor turned me and couldn’t relate to a single one. It’s hard to miss a sunny day as a human when you didn’t really have one—when skies stayed dull through night into morning. Even the night skies as an immortal have been more than he had as a human.

“Yes,” he agrees, foot gently pushing off the ground to widen the swing’s arc. “Perhaps if it’s true we’re human again, then this is merely a human affliction. Dr. Smith could treat us, and we could continue drinking immortal blood to strengthen us—keep us healthy.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I turn my head against Victor’s hand in my hair to look up at him.

He stares down at me with a mix of wonder and disillusionment, the rich blue sky a strange backdrop behind his head.

“I don’t want to be mortal, Victor,” I choke out. “I love being a vampire. It suited me so much more.”

He swallows. “I don’t either, love. And yet . . .” He winces ever so slightly as his eyes turn glossy. “It appears we already are.”

Sniffling, I turn back on my side to gaze across the garden, studying the vibrant reds of the roses, the pale daisies woven through green and dark, colorful hues. “It’s not fair,” I breathe, tears hanging damp on my words. One escapes the corner of my eye and runs over the bridge of my nose. I lift my hand off his thigh to cast it away. “We’re supposed to have eternity together.”

Victor’s hand tangles deeper into my hair, his other gripping my waist. “Dr. Smith will treat us with modern medicine, and this will pass. We can still have decades together. Warm, sunny days. We’ll still have lived better than any other human has. The immortal blood will keep us healthy.”

“Maybe we can turn back,” I suggest, desperation clinging to each word. “Dr. Smith could treat us both with his blood and turn us back.”

“At that point, surely we would be challenging Death,” Victor disagrees.

I sniffle harder and wipe my eyes.

“I much prefer being immortal, too, my love. But as long as I have you, I will move through each day smiling—my heart full.”

“I love you,” I choke out.

His hand scoops up mine, and he brings it to his lips for a kiss. “I love you, too.”

My pained smile wavers, weighted breaths bringing the perfume of the garden into my lungs.

“There is light to be found in any darkness, even if you have to tear something down to find it,” Victor murmurs. “Even the night has the moon.”

It’s romantic, but immortality was that light while I was mortal and rotting.

His sigh is longing as he pushes his foot against the ground for one wide swing. “We have the day back. I would love to try more modern food since it doesn’t seem to be making me sick. It’s not perfect, but it’s far safer. And think of the things we could do together that we couldn’t as vampires.” The smile in his voice makes my heart ache. Leave it to Victor to attempt to cure my woe with his words. “Hmm . . . How about an early morning picnic in the cemetery, pondering the lives of those passed on? You can wear a beautifully dramatic dress and carry a wicker basket on your arm.”

A twisted, breathy laugh escapes me. “You know me so well, love.”

He coughs and clears his throat. “See, there’s still light despite being forced out of the darkness.”