Page 87 of A Bloom in Winter

“Why were you crying out there—”

Apex sputtered and choked.

“Sorry,” Callum murmured.

As the coughing subsided, Apex wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Then he lowered the bottle. “I didn’t know . . . whether you were in there or not.”

“I am. Just like the wolf is inside me now. We are one and the same.”

“So you heard what I said?”

“The sounds . . . didn’t really translate. But I know you were upset.”

“How does it work,” Apex dodged. “Somebody takes the wheel? And the other takes a back seat?”

“Something like that.” Callum stepped in closer. “Look, I want you to know . . .”

His eyes traced the features he could not, would never, forget.

“I need your help,” he said roughly.

“Anything.”

Callum turned away to the bed. Getting down on his hands and knees, he put the beer aside and pulled his suitcase out from under. The scraping sound over the bare floorboards seemed very loud, and he almost lost his steam as he confronted the top of the valise. But then he looked up at the vampire. Apex wasstanding there calmly, with no judgment or pity on that harsh, beautiful face. He was just waiting for whatever was needed.

As he always had been.

“I kept this . . . thing,” Callum said as he flopped the stiff fabric top open. “This . . .”

The empty suitcase had a couple of different pockets, one of which lined the back wall of the base, and the bulge in that fold of nylon made it feel as if the piece of luggage was crammed with clothes. Dirty, moldy, decaying clothes.

Baggage, indeed.

Reaching in, he took out a bundle housed in a plastic supermarket bag. And as he turned the tightly tucked twist over in his hands, he glanced across and tried to figure out what he wanted to say.

“It’s okay,” Apex murmured. “Whatever it is.”

Callum unwrapped the thing. The black fabric inside, on its most basic level, was just a black nylon long-sleeved shirt—and not a big one. One that would fit a female. And it could be used for a lot of things, like running, for instance, the thin fabric moisture-wicking, whatever the fuck that meant. It could also have been appropriate for hiking, water sports, rowing.

To him, it was radioactive. Because it had been worn while he’d been defiled.

“When I left that night,” he said roughly, “I put on some clothes that were in that room. There was a stack of them, I don’t know whose they were. I took guns and ammo. I . . . didn’t know whose they were, either. But this . . . was hers. I found it wadded up behind some boots. It smelled like her and I took it because . . .”

He turned the shirt over and over in his hands. “I wanted a piece of her to remind me that I got out and she didn’t. I thought maybe I could own something of hers like she owned me when she’d had me. But it didn’t . . . it didn’t work like that. This hasjust been a reminder that, like so much else, I haven’t been able to let go of.”

“And now?”

“It’s time.” He nodded. Nodded again. “It’s . . . time to get rid of it. But I don’t know in what way?”

By way of answering, Apex walked over to the hearth. And when he pointed to the cold ashes, Callum thought,of course.Why hadn’t he—

“Yes,” he breathed.

With a nod, Apex knelt down on the hard stone. There was some kindling next to the stack of fresh logs, and he took the former and then layered it down with the latter. Up on the shelf, there was a box of long-stemmed matches and also a long-armed lighter. He chose the matches.

The sound of the strike was ashhhchtthat seemed loud as a sneeze.

Apex’s hand was steady as he penetrated the pile with the tiny flame—which caught and did its job. Smoke curled up first, then orange tongues licked around, tasting their meal. A moment later, the fire burst to life, throwing out proper heat and light.

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