Balthazar (16 page)

“HEY.” SKYE SHOOK BALTHAZAR BY THE SHOULDERS as her mood shifted from merely concerned to deeply freaked out. His eyes were all but shut, his face still, and he swayed on his feet like a man in a trance. “Hey, come back. Come back.
Balthazar!
”

She slapped her hand across his face, hard, and instantly his fingers clamped around her wrist. His eyes opened wide, but it still took him a moment to speak. “Skye.”

“Yes. It's me. Where did you go?”

Balthazar slumped back, so unsteady that she wondered if he was dizzy or ill. Was her blood some kind of poison? Skye braced his shoulders in her hands, and that seemed to rouse him. Haltingly, he said, “It was as if—it was like I was reliving my own past.”

“Just memories?” Skye frowned; she didn't know what she had been expecting, but not that.

“Not just memories. It's as if I'm really there. Every sensation, every sound—they're all perfect.” As he spoke, he smiled, but uncertainly, as if he were saying words he didn't dare believe. “And not just any memories, either. Skye, your blood takes vampires back to when they were alive.”

She wasn't seeing any difference here. Why would vampires be mad to kill her merely to do the equivalent of looking through old photos? “So—just memories.”

“You don't understand.” Balthazar shook his head, impatient but not unkind. He took her arms from his shoulders and held her hands in his—only a gesture, she thought, but the touch still made this cold, sterile room feel as if it glowed with warmth. “Life has power, Skye. It has a … grace, and beauty, and vitality that nothing after death can match. Despite all our abilities and immortality, every single vampire longs, down deep, to feel the experience of life again. Some of us deny it, but each of us knows it. Life is irreplaceable.”

“Except they can replace it through me.” The impact finally sank in, and Skye felt a little dizzy. “Or are there other ways?”

“Your blood is the only thing I've ever heard of that would allow a vampire to truly feel alive again without surrendering our powers.”

“Which means they want my blood really, really badly.”

“Yeah.” Balthazar breathed out, half elation, half frustration. “Skye, your blood is like a drug for us. The ultimate high.”

“That's not good.” Skye wrested her hands free from Balthazar's and began pacing the nurse's station; though she still felt shaken from the tumult earlier in the evening, she couldn't let the tension boil inside her. She needed to walk it out. “Is there anyplace in the world vampires don't go? Anyplace I can go?”

Grimly, Balthazar shook his head. “There aren't that many of us, but we're spread out. Besides, if Redgrave knows what you really are—and he does—he'll chase you as far as he has to. Even to the ends of the earth.” He spoke as though from experience.

She put her hands against the wall, as if she could push her way through to escape. Only hours ago, Redgrave had stood by her side, polite and patient, while she composed a poem. “He said—he said he wouldn't kill me. Because they need my blood. So they won't murder me, won't even try—”

“That's not good news.” He stepped closer to her, more fully present than he'd been since drinking that sip of her blood, every word urgent. “You have to trust me on this—there are fates worse than death. I've suffered some of them.” Balthazar's broad hand closed around her shoulder. “You don't want to know what Redgrave would do to you, body and soul, to keep you captive.”

Skye wanted to scream. She wanted to hit someone, but what was the point? That fury and fear had no place to go.

“Home,” she whispered. “I want to go home.” It was the only place Redgrave wouldn't come for her, she knew, but that wasn't as important as climbing into her own bed, pulling the covers tight, and hiding from the whole world.

From the way Balthazar squeezed her arm, she thought he understood. “Come on. Let's get you home.”

As it turned out, escorting a sick student home was just the kind of thing teachers were on basketball duty for, and Coach Haladki waved Balthazar off without even needing much of an explanation. Within ten minutes, they were sitting together on the crosstown bus, in the very back; the only other passenger was a man dozing in the front near the driver. Though there were lights within the bus, they weren't bright, and the road outside wasn't well lit or heavily traveled at this hour. Skye felt as if they were in a tiny shell of illumination and warmth, surrounded on all sides by endless cold and night.

Balthazar kept his arm around her shoulders, bracing her. Though his body didn't warm her the way another human's would have, the contact kept her own warmth close; it was like being wrapped in a blanket.

“I'll have to get a car,” he said. “We can't rely on this.”

“You don't have one?”

“I haven't owned one in a while. The past few years, I didn't bother; I was living at Evernight, so I couldn't have kept a car with me anyway. Time to remedy that.”

“I should've bought one last summer. I'd saved up the money.” All that lifeguarding at the pool. She'd earned enough for a clunker. “But I couldn't take it to Evernight, and Mom and Dad said they'd chip in so I could get something nicer if I waited until I was headed to college. I'll start looking for one right away.”

“Not sure there's much point. Driving alone isn't that much safer for you than walking. But we'll think of something. Maybe you can work out a way to get a ride from Madison or some other friend.”

Skye's phone chimed; she was so on edge that even that familiar sound made her jump. She lifted it to see a message from Clem:
Plz tell me ur quiet b/c ur making out with Balty
.

Hastily she sent back:
Will you SHUT IT b/c he's RIGHT HERE and he can read?!
Skye glanced over at Balthazar, who was paying no attention to her texts. Instead, he stared out the window into the darkness. She would've thought he was keeping watch if not for the deep sadness in his eyes.

Clem texted back:
Sorry!

It's OK. Listen, lots of stuff is going on here. Crazy stuff. Will email 2nite or 2morrow and catch you up
. Already Skye knew she needed a friend who could really talk to her about all of this; Madison might be fun to hang out with, but she didn't understand anything about vampires or ghosts, this entire vast supernatural world that hid within the cracks of everything else they'd ever known. Clementine, on the other hand, not only went to Evernight Academy but also grew up with a haunted car. She'd get it.

As she slid her phone back into her pack, she stole another glance at Balthazar. If anything, he was even more absorbed in thought than before. The motion of the bus rocked them back and forth in one rhythm. She said, “Are you okay?”

“I should really be asking you that question.”

Her throat still hurt, but it was a dull ache now, like the sensation of trying not to cry. “I'm scared. That's all.”

“That's enough.”

“Definitely. But—something else is going on with you.” It was prying, and she knew it, but Balthazar obviously wasn't the type to talk easily about his feelings. If she wanted to know more, prying was clearly in order.

Balthazar didn't seem to mind, but he thought his answer over for a long time. “Those memories—of being alive—they're the best memories I have. And the worst memories I have. Living through that again brings a lot back.”

“What did you remember?”

A small smile crossed his face. “My first kiss.”

“Really?” That didn't sound so sad, Skye thought, until she realized how long ago it might've been. “When was that?”

“1640.”

Skye tried very hard not to let her shock show; she'd guessed he was old, but somehow hearing him say it jolted her regardless. She said only, “Where?”

“Massachusetts Bay Colony. Just outside Boston.”

It was such a simple answer, and yet she knew from the way he said it that Balthazar told very few people about his past. She wanted to hear more, but didn't want to push—to abuse the trust he was showing her. So she said only, “What happened?”

Balthazar shook his head. “One thing you can always be sure of—any vampire's life story has an unhappy ending.”

Instinctively, Skye leaned her head against his shoulder—offering comfort and seeking it, all at once. Even as she did so, she thought,
This is too much. I shouldn't hang on him. Probably he isn't feeling what I'm feeling right now
.

But before she could pull away, Balthazar's arm tightened around her, and his head rested against hers. Skye closed her eyes. She didn't know why she felt less lost now that she knew he was lost, too. Yet she did.

Balthazar walked her inside, all the way to her bedroom. As she wearily set down her pack, he went to the window and stared out into the darkness. “I don't think they're around tonight. Bianca's wraith show did the trick.”

“That's something, anyway.” She walked toward him, rubbing her sore neck. “Maybe I'll actually get some sleep tonight. But I doubt it.”

“I could stay, if you wanted.” Balthazar looked back at her, his fighter's frame outlined by the darkness.

“Stay tonight? In my room?”

“Yeah—oh. Or downstairs. Around. So you'd feel safer.”

“I don't know.”

Skye wanted him to stay as badly as she'd ever wanted anything. But right now it felt like she might do reckless things, without thinking, only to escape the fear beating within her like a second pulse.

“Are you okay?” Balthazar said. Only then did she realize she'd begun trembling again. She didn't know if that was from fright, tension, exhaustion, desire—all of them together—just that there was only so much she could take in a couple of days, and she'd taken it.

She reached out blindly with one hand, and Balthazar's arms went around her, enveloping her in his embrace. Skye didn't cry, didn't speak. Instead she gripped the lapels of his coat as she buried her face in the curve of his neck. He held her tightly as she breathed in and out, steady and slow, calming herself.

“We're going to get through this.” He spoke as if they were truly in it together, as if she weren't the hunted and he the protector. “I'm not going to let them hurt you. Not ever.”

Skye couldn't say anything. She pulled back to look at Balthazar, at the strong lines of his face so close to hers. The moonlight off the snow had painted him silver. Without hesitating, without thinking, she tilted her face up and kissed him.

It was the softest touch, only for an instant. Balthazar didn't move. The reality of what she'd done rushed over Skye, and she might have stepped away or even apologized—if Balthazar hadn't kissed her back.

This time she wound her arms around his neck, closed her eyes, and let the world fall away. His mouth was hard against hers, the kiss fierce enough to electrify. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like she'd escaped all the danger and fear forever.

When they broke apart, though, Balthazar took her arms from around his neck, shaking his head. “I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry.”

“Why not?” Skye gave him a look. “Because you don't like me that way?”

“What? No. That isn't—no.” One of his hands stroked through her hair, a brief, simple caress. “It's just… I made a rule centuries ago, Skye. No getting involved with humans. It's dangerous for them, more than you can possibly realize.”

“I'm already in danger,” she pointed out, but she stepped away from him anyway. Although logically she thought she ought to have felt rejected, she didn't. Balthazar's eyes never left her face; his body remained taut from the tension of their brief kiss. And that kiss—

No, he wasn't rejecting her. He wanted her. He just wouldn't let himself have her.

Skye said, “You should go, I think.”

“Yeah.” Balthazar had obviously been expecting her to ask him to stay, or to try to kiss him again. Had he been hoping for that? Hoping she'd give him an excuse to give in? “I'll keep watch outside for a while, though. Make sure you're safe. So you can sleep.”

She smiled at him crookedly. “Thanks.”

Balthazar hesitated, clearly wanting to say something else. For a long moment they stared into each other's eyes, yearning to keep the connection. Then he was gone—not like a normal person, but vampire fast, as if he had flickered into shadow instead of walking out. She gasped, both from shock and from the pain of that sudden parting.

Every limb heavy with exhaustion, her brain fuzzy with sudden desire, Skye dressed for bed. Just before she put out the last light, though, she stood at the window for a moment, knowing the illumination from her lamp would outline her to anybody watching from below.

Tonight she knew Redgrave wasn't watching. Balthazar was.

“Good night,” she whispered, before turning out the light.