Page 29 of To Save a Vampire
“My strength and heightened senses are useless to time. My heart pounds, ticking with the hands of time, just like yours. I will age, reluctantly, a little slower than yourself, but I will age and I will die. I’m not immortal, just death defying,” he says with a wink.
Thinking of Asher as a human feels odd. He’s not immortal, he’s not human, but he’s somewhere right in the middle, toying with mortality.
He glances back at me out of the corner of his eye. “Tell me about your camp since you refuse to sleep,” he says.
My camp.I wonder how far from camp we really are. My home and my camp family have been left miles behind, and I haven’t really given them a second thought. My heart dips slightly at how easily I left it all behind.
“It’s pretty uneventful. A lot of working. Every day, really,” I say with a laugh.
He looks out into the darkness, not smiling with me. “Do you consider yourself a slave then?” he asks with seriousness.
A slave? We work with no pay, but it’s not like that. Our life has changed from how generations before us lived. There’s no poverty like I’m told there once was; people work for what they own. People are better provided for because of how our government is set up. There is no exchange for goods and services. Only rules and duties. And, in return, there is never the fear of starvation. We are cared for and lucky.
As long as you follow the rules.
“No, not at all. We’re provided with food and shelter, everything we need to survive, in exchange for the work we do. We are compensated.”
“Sounds like the compound without walls.”
I shake my head adamantly at him, and he raises his eyebrows at my denial. “So, you’re like a pet then?” he asks. “Fed and sheltered but with no say for yourself.”
His jaw tics in the moonlight and I shift into a less uncomfortable spot on my blanket. Anger now creases my face. The feeling simmers as I think. Why does he care how I live? I don’t need his judgment, especially for something he doesn’t understand.
“I’m no one’s pet,” I say in annoyance.
“I like the fight you have in you. The anger and strength you so rarely show.” His compliment catches me off guard but doesn’t diffuse the growing irritation in my chest. He bites back a smirk at my hostility. “Then explain it to me, Fallon.”
I take a breath and slowly release it to contain the scream I want to expel. Once I’m sure I can continue our hushed conversation without sounding like a crying child, I think through what life at camp really feels like.
“I think most people like this lifestyle, really, as strange as it is. There’s less worry, less stress. You don’t have to worry about whether you’ll get that job, or if your boyfriend will stick around, or if you’ll want kids, or if the relationship will last. It’s all written out in black and white. It’s simple.” I take a heavy breath, realizing I won’t have any of those things. “If you follow the rules and fill out the necessary paperwork,” I say in a whisper, my eyes falling away from him, not wanting to see his reaction to my confession.
He bites his lip, seemingly biting back his words. He lowers his head and shoulders, like the weight of the moon is pressing down on him.
“It’s not a privilege to work, and there should be no requirements to be loved, Fallon.” He refuses to look at me and his words come out rushed and insolent. “Our government takes things that should come naturally and twists them into something for their own benefit. A reward for following the rules. Stress is a part of life, something that’s necessary for you to understand your achievements. Your camp is only providing stress to highlight your failures.” He takes a breath, finally meeting my eyes again. My eyebrows are raised in shock. “Forget what I said. You need sleep, and I need to shut up.” He smiles down at me, but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes.
I swallow hard. I blink a few times until my eyes don’t open again. Part of me can’t bear to look at him any longer. To see the pity and anger in his beautiful face when he looks at me. But his words race through my mind.There shouldn’t be requirements for love.He’s right, but it still hurts hearing it. Whoever Micah is, there is no guarantee our union would make my life better. I am still my mother’s daughter, and it’s time I start acting like it. My life is my own with or without the presence of love.
Eight
The Stranger
I wakewith a start to the sound of Ripper growling in his sleep. My eyes flinch against the harsh morning sunlight.
Rushing, rapid water fills the quiet, and the moisture of the river is heavy in the air.
My mother is curled on her side, snuggled into Ky’s chest, his arm wrapped protectively around her, hugging her to his body. The corner of my lip pulls into a half smile at the sight of them. I can’t help but wonder if they slept like this at camp or if it’s just because of our new surroundings … a stronger need to protect one another here.
Asher no longer sits by my feet. I turn at all angles, my body searching for his, but he’s not here. Ripper's little legs move wildly in his sleep as another low and menacing growl comes through sharp, clenched teeth. Even in his sleep, he thinks he’s bigger than he really is.
I nudge him with my foot, and he leaps up on all fours with a muffled bark. I stand quietly; rocks shift under my feet. Where could Asher have gone? Is he hunting already?
Ripper and I walk past the black soot from last night’s fire, tiptoeing past my mother and Ky, and make our way up the river. After we’ve walked a ways, I take a minute to splash water on my face from the cold running water. Ripper drinks from the river while I clean him up the best I can—his little paws are clumpy with dirt and tattered leaves.
I look around at my surroundings; I can still see my mother’s sleeping form, but she’s a good distance away. I take notice of the lack of wildlife this morning—no squirrels, no birds; I can’t even spot any fish in the clear water. They’re hiding from something.
Asher has definitely been here recently. How recently, I have no idea. I keep walking, always aware of my surroundings and on high alert for any unnatural sounds. I’m not just listening for Asher but for anything else that might not belong here in nature.
I’m still listening intently when a small, delicate voice reaches my ears. It’s barely audible over the rushing water. A gentle and sad melody calls out to me, the tragic words pressing against the warm air to be heard. Ripper and I slow our pace. We cautiously turn the bend, our steps brushing the edge of the river and my body forming against the jagged cliff. Tracing the rough wall with my fingertips, I peer around the cliff wall for the source of the song.
