Page 22 of To Save a Vampire
“Asher. Much better than Forty-four,” I say with a smile.
Say it again.
“Asher,” I say in an unsure breath. I’m in awe at his simple happiness. A wide smile appears as he closes his eyes and leans against the headboard.
“It’s been years since anyone has said my name. It’s never sounded so—heartbreaking and beautiful.”
I blush at his sad words. I’m not sure if he’s flirting with me or the feeling of hearing his own name brought back memories of his life. If no one knows who you are, do you really exist?
You’re uncomfortable. Sorry.He smiles to himself and glances at me out of the corner of his eye before writing a finishing thought.Kind of.
“You didn’t. Really. I’m fine,” I say somewhat unconvincingly.
You don’t look fine.
He writes with a smile. A dimple forms with his arrogant smile, and my heart beats off course, unsure of its constant chore of beating within my chest.
“I should leave before my mother finds me,” I say so quietly I’m afraid he won’t hear me.
He does hear me, though, and nods slowly before pulling back the covers to scoot out of bed. He walks me to the door where his hand lingers on the knob.
I try to keep my eyes away from the hard lines of muscle that stretch over his abdomen and chest. The lines that flow over the sides of his ribs as well; lethal power sheathed beneath smooth skin. I look quickly to the floor when I realize how miserably I’m failing at not watching him.
“Goodnight, Fallon,” he says in a hoarse whisper.
His eyes are cast down and refuse to meet my own. He opens the door for me as quietly as possible. I’m not ready to leave, but I know I need to get back in bed before my mother discovers me missing and sends out a search party.
“Goodnight, Asher.” I say his name slowly, masking my confusion at his change in behavior.
He closes his eyes against the sound of his name like he’s trying to remember every syllable before he closes the door softly behind me.
Six
The Veil
For dayswe walk through the same scenery. The same trees with the same bark with the same dying leaves. We sleep on pallets in the dirt, taking shifts to keep watch, never lingering in one place for too long.
My mother still chooses to sign her words to Asher rather than speak openly in front of me. I’ve mostly ignored her to avoid basic conversation which would, of course, lead to more unanswered questions. A sinking feeling burrows into the pit of my stomach at the thought, but I continue walking to keep my mind off of my mother and the questions that are always circling my mind, like vultures drawn to the dead.
At last, I’m alone for a moment.
Velvet soft food lies in my hand. I study the two small gray mushrooms in my palm, pushing the soft outer membrane of the fungus between my fingers. They look like the mushrooms in Hollis’ kitchen, but I’m not sure. I place them gently into the bottom of my empty satchel. Ky will know if they’re safe to eat or not. The forest is quiet with only the sound of a few birds above. Hopefully, my mother and Ky are having better luck finding food in the creek than I am in the woods.
It’s been almost a week since I was back at camp. I’ve missed so much school they’ll never let me finish. I’ll become a job gypsy, picking up left-over shifts and odd jobs while the more qualified people work in professions of dignity. With as much medical experience I have from helping my mother, our government would be stupid to place me anywhere outside the medical field, but I won’t find respectable work without a complete education.
Like choking on glass, I swallow down the tense thought of my future and continue searching the area for some form of food.
A long tangle of thorn bushes catch my eye. The endless vines wrap and wrap like a deadly trap set my nature. It encompasses a large portion of the outer section of the forest.
My exit.Perfect.
On slow steps, leaves crunching beneath my boots, I wander toward the twisting thin death trap. When I’m close enough, color dots everywhere between the thorns. The thing is littered with red and black berries. There are so many my heart leaps at the sight of them.
Sadly, I still don’t know if they are edible. Our camp only had berries in our breakfast during special occasions, and I can’t recall if these are the same berries. Clearly, I should have listened to Ms. Hollis more often. Or at least showed up on time…
Maybe.
I shake my head and begin picking handfuls of the berries and depositing them into my bag along with the two mushrooms. I pick and pick until the vines are bare. An accomplishing feeling warms my chest even though my satchel is only half full. Within the heart of the threatening thorns are a few more berries. The last remaining ones.
