Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)
Page 10“Why?”
“He said it’s been eating him up—that he wasn’t there to protect you when Jason was binding you. He says he wishes he had been the creepy stalker vampire, now, because none of this would’ve happened if he’d taken better care of you.”
I covered my mouth with slightly shaky fingers.
“He also said he wishes he was more powerful, so he could get in your head and undo the bind.”
“Poor David.”
Mike nodded.
“Why wouldn’t he just tell me all that?”
“Because he feels weak, baby. He’s a guy. Okay? He’s not going to admit when he can’t be the strong, dependable knight you need him to be.”
“I don’t need him to be that.” I sat up a little more, as if my words might reach David through Mike. “I just need him to be with me—to be honest with me.”
Mike nodded. “Did you tell him that?”
“Touché, Mike. Touché.” I pointed at him, then let all my emotions out with a sigh. “Does it bother you—David and Em?”
“What about them?”
“They’re at the house—alone, feeding from each other, hunting humans together. You know what the blood lust does. Are you worried they might—?”
“No.”
“Oh.” I looked down.
“Why are you worried, Ara? David would never—”
“I know. It’s Em I don’t trust. She’s always had a thing for him.”
“Ara! How can you say that? She’s your friend.”
“I know.” I shrunk a little. “It’s just—she can feel his thoughts. And…I mean, what does that mean anyway? How can you feel thoughts?”
He laughed once, as if he’d asked that very same question himself. “She says it’s like when you have your own thoughts, they’re always accompanied by a feeling; excitement, dread, lust, joy, warmth—she can sense that. She said it’s like a scent, like he changes cologne every few minutes. After a while, she started to recognise which scent went with which feeling, or thought.”
I kind of imagined it for a second; David zipping off to spray himself with different coloured bottles every few minutes. “Well, see, there’s that—that ‘special’ connection—then there’s the fact that she’s a vampire, like him; she’s pretty, blonde, carefree. She doesn’t cause trouble like I do—or fight with him.”
“And he doesn’t love her, Ara,” Mike said. “He loves you. If anyone should be worried, it’s David.”
“Is that a joke?” He sat up a bit—probably to be taller than me again. “You’re here, miles from home, with a guy who’s crazy about you—a guy you’re spirit bound to—while David’s forced to stay at home wondering what you’re doing, praying the bad guy doesn’t come back to take you away again while he’s not here to protect you.” He breathed out through his nose. “And he knows what you’re like, Ara. You never listen to anyone; you never do as you’re told. He has to rely on the very guy, whom he doesn’t trust to be with you, to protect you above all else and then comfort you when you’re feeling low, care for you if you get sick—stop you from doing stupid things. He should be worried, Ara. Not you.”
I nodded. “I guess I never thought of it like that.”
“That’s because you’re not a guy.”
“Noted.” I smiled.
“Now—” Mike climbed out of bed, took my cup, and his warm, autumn eyes crinkled on the edges with his smile. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning for training.”
“Great.” I snuggled down into the warmth Mike left behind. “I can’t wait to meet all the knights.”
“They’re just as excited.” He went to walk away then stopped. “Oh, and, Arthur wants to come watch you train, too—he’s eager to see your powers.”
“Really? Should we let him?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. You seem to be all buddy-buddy with him.” Mike shrugged. “It’ll be fine. If he is a mole, he won’t attack now anyway. You just need to hurry up and figure out his plan.”
“He has no plan, Mike,” I said, rolling over. “He’s opinionated, but he’s not a mole.”
“We’ll see.” Mike blew out the flame in the lantern and closed my door.
My eyes stayed open, looking above me to the unspoilt sky through the glass dome. Across my room, the soft white curtains billowed in the summer breeze as it snuck through my open balcony door, blowing a gentle tickle of warm air across my nose and lips, like a goodnight kiss from the evening. I could hear the ocean in the distance now with the manor going quiet, room by room, all around me. It was peaceful, serene, but empty.
The walls seemed to swirl then, the open space narrowing me in to my own little world, and behind the loving eyes of the unknown man in the glass, sunlight suddenly shone through, making them sparkle, warming his whole smile. I smiled back at him as the light flooded down my walls, blotting out his face, my pillows, my dresser, until spring spread out around me—my only cage the long grass, rising up past my shoulders and cheeks with the wet scent of soil and crushed daisies.
I slid my hand across the ground, knowing the boy next to me would reach out and wrap his fingers through mine.
“Can you show me another?” I asked, suddenly standing above this boy and girl, holding hands in the grass; the sun shone down, making the girl’s yellow dress almost transparent, showing the outline of her thighs and hips in a shadow under the fabric.
The boy rolled up on his elbow, bringing his body closely alongside hers. “I’ve shown you so many already, Ara-Rose.”
“Shown you what?” I asked, stepping closer.
She looked at me then, her blues eyes taking my breath as they reached right between my ribs, starting my heart. “Memories,” she said to me.
“Of what?”
She just smiled and looked back at Jason—left behind in the realm of moments gone. “Watch, and you’ll see.”
Dark sky swallowed us whole, taking Jason away again, leaving me alone in a windy clearing—nothing but a stormy sky, the wide arms of our tree, and, in the distance, two boys—running. A ring of light shone down onto the clearing over them, presenting their memory in daytime, while I stood on the cusp of dark and light.
“David! Wait. I can’t…” The smaller boy folded over, dropping his hands to his dirt-covered knees. “I can’t breathe.”
The boy tried to run for only a second more before flopping to the ground, tucked into a small ball, his shoulders lifting with each raspy, tight breath.
A shadow covered his face, taking the warmth of the sun, and he looked up, green eyes so bright, at his brother. “What are you doing, Jason? Get up,” David said.
“I can’t,” he wheezed. “Get…get Aunty.”
But his brother only shook his head, his face lit with humour. He toed Jason’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back. “Stop pretending. Arietta doesn’t love you more because you’re sick—she only pities you.”
“Please?” Jason reached up, his face going white around purple lips. “I can’t…I can’t bre—”
“Father says it is God’s will.” David kicked Jason’s hand away. “He says we should stop healing you.”
“Brother? Please?”
But David backed away. “Maybe he’s right.”
“N-no.” Jason curled into a ball again, tucking his knees to his chest.
“If you want to live, brother, perhaps you should pray.”
But Jason didn’t hear those words; his breath became short, shallow, as David walked away, disappearing into the glare of the sun.
I ran over and knelt beside the shuddering child. “Jason,” I whispered, wishing I could be an entity of the past, reach out, touch him. But when he looked up suddenly, it was to a great, fluffy hound, licking his face, waking him from the drift of consciousness.
“Petey?” he said, wrapping his arm across the dog’s neck. “Get Aunty.”
And Petey ran, bouncing over the fields faster than possible, barking, calling out for all who might be near.
When Jason opened his eyes again, the room was mostly dark, lit only by a fire burning nearby, while the softness of a mattress braced his tiny body. He looked up into the soulful blue eyes of a woman with honey blonde hair.
“Jason.” She touched his face.
“Aunty.”
“Shh,” she said, stroking his cheek over and over again. “Don’t try to speak, my love. Just rest. You’re safe now.”
He nodded and closed his eyes, but opened them quickly, revealing thoughts which took that sparkle from his soul. “Aunt Ari?”
“Yes, sweet boy?”
“Is it true—that I killed my mother?”
Arietta paled, rising up slightly to lean right over Jason. “Who said that to you?”
“Was it your father?”
His reluctance to say was all Arietta needed.
“My darling child, your mother died because the doctor couldn’t stop the bleeding. She just didn’t have enough strength to keep breathing.”
“But, if I had not been born, she would have lived. Father says she was smiling, happy, after David was born—that she let go when I tried to enter the world.”
“No, Jason—” Arietta couldn’t find the words to make it all okay. I wondered if a part of her, too, believed this, or if maybe she was so horrified by this child’s certainty of his existence destroying another’s, that she couldn’t speak. “Jason, your father was not even in the room when my sister passed. I was there. I saw her smile when the doctor told her there was another child. I saw her eyes light with joy for the fact that you would be born.” She stroked his hair, her eyes touching every inch of his little face. “Oh, my sweet, sweet boy. She wanted nothing more than to hold you, I know this, because she was my sister, and we have the same heart—” She touched her chest. “If I love you this much, then she would have loved you just the same.”
Jason nodded into the cup of her hand, but I saw it in his eyes, that her truth couldn’t change what was in his heart—what he had been told since he was old enough to understand words.
“I am so sorry I can’t stay here and be your mother, Jason. If your father would have me, I would not leave you at the end of the summer—not ever, but—” She looked down, her eyes tearing. “But just know that, even though we can’t be together, I never stop loving you—or your brother.”
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, watched tears fall between his fingertips, sinking through the blades of grass under his hands. Thunder made the day close in on him and the rain came down around his knees, over his shoulders, making the cold harsh and the pain go deeper. He swiped a hand across his nose, barely able to see the name on the headstone before him.
“This is the second woman our family has buried because of you.”
Jason stood quickly and spun around to his brother’s angered face. “David, how can you say such things? I cannot be to blame for this.”
The two thirteen-year-old versions of the twins stood face to face; one softened by grief, the other hardened, with hate-filled eyes barring his brother. “You tell yourself that, demon. Go ahead. If it eases your guilt.”
“Guilt. Guilt for what? I ran. I told you this. I ran as fast as I could—”
“And yet it was not fast enough.”
Jason reached out to gently clasp the lapel of David’s coat. “I will not be to blame. I could not have saved her if I’d grown wings and flown to get uncle.”
David’s stiff body seemed to shake, his lips tight, his nostrils flaring with each breath of hatred or grief or whatever he was carrying inside that made me take a step back. “It’s not how fast you ran, brother; it’s not how long it took you to bring Uncle—it’s your mere existence. You were never meant to be, and until your ashes are in this earth, balance can never be restored.”
“I don’t believe that. And Arietta didn’t believe that, either.”
David looked at her grave, clenching his teeth so firmly his cheeks appeared hollow. “She could never see past your lies, and now she’s dead. She is dead because you are an abomination.” His arm shook, his finger aimed at the beastly creature across from him. “But I see you for what you are. I see you for what Father knew you were. As far as I’m concerned, from this day forth, I have no brother,” he said, not a shred of sympathy softening his rain-soaked face, and he backed away, leaving Jason to grieve the loss—alone.
My heart saturated with sadness, but I couldn’t allow it—couldn’t let pity change how I felt about either of them. I wanted to hate David as much as I wanted to fall beside Jason, as he sunk to the ground, and wrap my arms around him—around his young self—tell him everything would be okay. But it wouldn’t. Not for him. From that day on, the one person who loved him, saw him as just a boy, would never lay eyes on him again, never lay a comforting hand to his cheek. He was alone now.
I backed away, too, my heart pounding in my chest.
He was truly all alone.