Page 36 of Envious Of Fire
Kyle closes his eyes while Elias strokes his hair. He tries to obey, to let himself drift off, to find that peace he so needs.
It’s half an hour later that Kyle lies there still awake, and it is Elias instead who is cuddled to his side like a baby, head on his chest, snoring with impressive, deep, dragon-like resonance.
Somehow, the noise is more comforting than the silence.
Run away from the sun, Lazarus had said. Find us hiding beyond a dark mouth, itself armed with teeth.
“I’m nothing like you,” says Kyle when morning glows in the thickly-curtained window. “We’re nothing alike. Stay away from me, away from Elias … away from Nowhere, forever.”
Soon, it is anger and resentment that fills Kyle. Betrayal. That Tristan and all of the powers of the Vegasyn domain did nothing to prevent this from happening. That something like Lazarus is even able to come here. Despite all the reassurances made, they’re apparently still as vulnerable as they were before.
The raging ocean of resentment soon evaporates, leaving the dry salt of reality. Somehow, the arrival and swift departure of Lazarus has made it even more apparent how different Kyle is. The only one of his kind in this town. Cade and Jeremy and all of the others at the bar may see Kyle as a friend, but Leland clinging to him in the alleyway at the smallest of sounds is just one example of how scared they must truly be beneath the laughter and smiling. Is Kyle’s Reach not picking up that fear? Is it so well-hidden? Is Chief Rojas the only one brave enough to say what is on everyone’s minds?—that they would be better off if Kyle was far away, attracting no more matters of terror and danger upon the people of Nowhere?
Thousands of them out there, Lazarus had said, thousands that don’t heed the likes of Lord Markadian or his authority. Is that true? Even hundreds is a terrifying number. Even a dozen.
Even one.
Was Tristan’s warning about drinking blood true? If Kyle drinks enough, will he become one ofThem—like this Lazarus? Is he already becoming like one of them, with just a drink from the vampire’s hand?
Kyle spent decades barely tasting a drop. Now he drinks every day. And Elias’s masochistic thirst for being bitten grows just as recklessly as Kyle’s thirst for blood. They’re like children given deadly toys, experimenting with dark forces they cannot begin to understand, playing with dangerous appetites.
It all leads Kyle right back to that terrible question that so plagued him the day Tristan faked his death and vanished from his life in a mound of ash. The question of Kyle’s purpose on this planet—What the fuck is it?
“Babe?”
Kyle hadn’t noticed the snoring stopped. He rubs Elias, his arm still wrapped around him. “Go back to sleep,” he whispers.
“You alright? Sun’s up.”
“Everything’s fine,” says Kyle, kisses the top of Elias’s head with a smile. “Back to sleep, I’m right behind you.”
Elias closes his eyes. Kyle does, too.
When the knock comes at the front door, the two of them wake with a start. Kyle checks his phone. No texts, zero missed calls. He lifts a hand and squints at the window curtains, still aglow with daylight. For one, no one ever knocks on their door. Secondly, anyone whowouldknock knows what Kyle is—and the danger daylight brings.
“I’ll get it,” says Elias, slipping out of bed in his boxers.
Kyle stands in the hall behind when Elias cracks open the door. “I’m so sorry, sir,” comes a woman’s voice, melodic, soft, “I didn’t mean to disturb you so early in the day. I was just—”
“Can I help you?” returns Elias with a note of suspicion in his voice, speaking through the mere inch or two he’s allowed the door to open.
“I’m sorry, again, I’m just … well, how do I put this?” The sound of her shuffling her feet touches Kyle’s ears. “I’m looking for someone. My husband, to be precise. I think he may have … well, Iknow, actually, that he passed by here a few nights ago.”
At once, like the gift itself has just now woken up too, Kyle feels the woman’s swirls of hope and anxiety inside her, twisting and untwisting, a pair of weathered ropes, full of friction, heat.
“Well, according to the app on his phone, or his truck,” she adds tiredly, “I’m not sure which. There’s so much he doesn’t tell me. Sorry, I’m oversharing.” She lets out a sigh that turns into something of a manic squeak of laughter, indicating all her exhaustion, both mental and physical. “His name is Brock. My husband, the man I’m looking for. Do you know him?”
Elias stares back at her, frozen to the spot, rendered silent by the uttering of that name.
Kyle, rather belatedly, realizes exactly who she is.
“I’m Jessica,” she says. “Jessica Hastings. Have you, um … seen him? Do you know him? He stopped by here, like I said.”
“I …” Elias’s voice is dry when he speaks. His lips smack. His throat is closed. “I, um … I don’t know if …”
“Let her in,” says Kyle from the hallway.
Elias turns, surprised, then faces her, slightly flustered. “I, uh, I’m gonna let you in … apparently.” He steps back, allows the door to open just enough.
