Page 12 of A Shadow in the Reaping
I shake my head and point to my name tag.Just Lu.
"You're named Lu Lu? That's... unfortunate."
I roll my eyes and shake my head, pointing to my name tag and then raising my index finger uncomfortably close to his face.One name, you fucker. Lu.
"One name? What, like Beyoncé?"
I whip my right hand back and let a punch fly, but he catches my fist before it can connect. I see the faintest trace of a smile on his lips that disappears as quickly as it came.Motherfucker.
"Why don't you talk?"
I hold his gaze for a long moment. The anger in my eyes subsides as the seconds tick by. I look down, making a sad face that I hope has the right amountI've overcome so much hardshipmixed withI've made it this far, don't fuck with me. When I look back up at Ashen his expression is unreadable.
"So, youwon'ttalk, or youcan'ttalk, which is it?"
I roll my eyes at the lack of effect from my sad face. I'm not sure what kind of reaction I was expecting. I put two fingers up forcan't talk,which is technically true. I can't talk, because if I do he'll eviscerate me right here on the lawn.
Ashen's eyes narrow. His grip tightens around my arm. Black smoke curls between us and I can see the struggle in his face to keep his instincts under control. "Interesting. Because when I met you, you had subdued a human with your power. How exactly did you accomplish that without a song, vampire?"
I give the most sarcastic, saccharine smile I can manage, and sign the wordsEnchanted fucking sign language, bitch.
By the look on his face, he doesn't know sign language.
"I don't know sign language."
I shrug with a look that saysthat's not my problem.
Ashen's eyes are still laced with suspicion, but they soften just a little. I feel his thumb coast a slow path across the two pink bumps on my left wrist, so slow that he must be hoping I won't notice. But I do. A trail of heat tingles through my skin like the tail of a comet. "The last thing I remember from last night, you bit down into your arm to heal my wound."
I swallow and nod. The Reaper keeps his eyes fixed to mine as he tightens his grip and lifts his arm. I see the suspicion fold into his eyes as he points to a tattoo of scrolling letters on his forearm. I recognize the words. It's my spell, written in a careful, calligraphic script, all in black except the wordsSunu liiktisumain a shimmering shade of white. Ashen points to my forearm. When he twists it in the sun, I see it for the first time in my skin. One line, sparkling like an opal in the light.
Sunu liiktisuma.
May they be bound.
"How did you do this if you cannot speak?" Ashen asks. "How did you even cast this spell? You're not a witch."
Okay, look. Ashen's annoyingly insightful questions aside, here's the problem I have. I might not act like the prissy, elegant vampire of your imagination. But I do have manners. I chose to speak last night, to put myself in danger to help this ungrateful douchebag. His assumption that I can't accomplish things without my voice irks me. It's unfair. And if we're now bound together, he's about to find out he's wrong. I can do a lot without speaking a single word, and one of those things might just be murdering him in his sleep.
I don't move, I don't point, I don't sign anything. I just glare at him, waiting for him to give up, to say something worth my time.
He just glares back, unrelenting.
I finally crack and jam my finger onto the spot on his chest where I know the wound is still healing. He flinches. I jab it again and he moves to swipe my hand away but I'm faster than he anticipates.
I point to my other arm, still encased in his grasp. I point to him again and mouth the wordsYou're welcome, asshole. I give him a jab for each syllable as I mouthASS-HOLEagain, then rip free of his grasp and turn to stalk back to the Swan.
"Wait! Wait," he says, appearing in front of me, obstructing my path. I try to get around him but can't. I glare at him and he glares back, a spark of fire in his eyes, a flash of vampiric red in mine. "Why?"
I give him a questioning look and fold my arms across my chest.
"Why did you do it? You have no allegiance to Reapers. No one does unless it is for their own benefit. As far as I can discern, there is nothing you wanted from me. You had a bag at the Inn when you entered the lobby. You were getting ready to run." Ashen takes a step toward me and waits as though he expects I might suddenly start talking. "You could have let me die, but you did not. So why did you save me?"
Even if I could speak to him, there is nothing to say. Because I don't know. I don't know why I did it. I probably shouldn’t have. His kind have killed off most of my sisters after all, and the earliest generations of vampires that followed us who had enough magic in their blood to cast a spell. Same with the shapeshifting witches who once roamed remote places as creatures of the wild, or the earliest werewolves whose incredible strength followed them in their human form. Those with the most power were the most likely to be guilty of crimes. The Reapers have taken so many of us immortals over the centuries, always without trial, often without reason. Really, he’s the last person I should be resurrecting from the brink of everlasting death.
Maybe I did it because he must be onto something with the whole Crime of Abomination business? It's an interesting mystery, but it's his mystery and I don't really want to be involved. Maybe it was because it didn't seem right for him to die when he'd protected me first, even if it was just to keep me in the fight. He's right that I have nothing to gain from him, nothing but misery and potentially death.
My gaze falls away from him, because I know I'm just telling myself I don't know why. I think I do know the reasons why. I can sense them beneath the lid of a box in my mind.
