The Knight Of The Rose (12 page)

helplessness. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“Save him! Save my baby!” She r olled away, covering her stomach i n a tight, protecti ve

embrace.

The memory faded out to white dots around the edges of the film, and the birds in the tree

above us sang a melody I had no mind for a moment ago, but was completely aware of.

I lifted my eyelids, blinking against the grey day, and turned my head to look at David—the

grown up David. “You found her?”

“I delivered her baby.”

I drew a quick breath and covered my mouth. “But you were just a child. How did you…?”

“I—” he swallowed a hard lump, “I was simply there to hold the child as she was born. I did

little else, and there was nothing I could do to help my aunt.” His fists clenched. “No one came to the

sound of her screaming. No one called for a doctor. She was a woman scorned for her si ns, and they

let her die like a dog.” Hi s lip stiffened and anger flooded hi s voice, a kind of anger I ’d never, ever

seen in him. “I wrapped the child in my jacket and cradled her against me, where I laid in the arms of

my cold aunt as the night descended around us.

“When I heard footsteps on the porch outside, I was numb—
completely
numb. I simply stood,

held the baby out to my uncle as he burst through the door, and told him “I lost her.”

“Arthur took the child from my arms and, though I was only a boy a nd knew nothing of the

world, I saw a piece of his soul die when he closed the lids on his stillborn child and covered her face

delicately with my jacket.

“What my uncl e lost that night I will never truly understand, and at the time, I thought

nothing of the fact that he fell to the floor beside Arietta, with his child crushed against his chest, and

laid there until the dawn.

“Only now do I see it for the madness it stirred within him.”

“Did he ever recover?”

“
Can
someone recover from that?” David asked rhetorically. “He went on wi th normal life,

like any wise vampire on the World council woul

d, but he never spoke of her. Even now, t

he

mention of children sends his eyes soulless.” David reached over and wiped a warm tear from my

cheek, then smiled softly. “The police came; they took Victor and charged him with aggr avated

assault. He was jailed for a mo

nth, then released with a warn ing, since the evidence was

inconclusive.”

“That’s it? He killed her and he got a month?” I almost rocketed forward in protest.

David nodded and clapped his hands together, le tting his elbows fall loosely over his knees.

“And life went on. Uncle Ar thur left town for a while, pr omising to return when he had made

arrangements for Jason and I.” He brushed his pa lm across the headstone behind him and nodded

toward it. “We buri ed her on a warm spring day, with her baby in her arms, where she will lay

evermore.”

“David, that’s so sad,” I whispered, feeling the rise of little bumps over my cold skin.

“Hers has been a loss I have never moved past.” He inclined his head to his position on her

grave. “And this is where I’ll sit one day, feeling the grief for another I once loved—with no hope of

ever holding her again. Only…the na me will read a different story; it will be one of true love, of

tragic loss and eternal sadness.” He looked down at the ground. “F or me, Ara, your death wi ll be

only but a breath away; a second in time, and you wi ll be gone. You have your whole life ahead of

you, but for a vampire...it’s nothing but a heartbeat.”

“I’m sorry, David. I wish with all of my heart it were different.”

“I know. But you wi ll never feel the pain of it as I will—for the rest of eternity.” He sniffed

once, nodded, then looked at me—trying to smile.

His words were almost enough to make me change my mind in that breath—to save him from

this horrible reality. It all just seemed so hopeless.

“Come on.” David stood in front of me, his hand outstretched. “I heard the ogre complaining

about ten minutes ago. Let’s get some food.”

“Okay.” Gravity bequeathed me with excess weight as I rose to my feet and followed David.

As the oak tree became smaller behind me, I stole a glance back to the hill where Arietta will stay.

Once, she had been promised immortality, and now, she lies in the ground—never to know

her child’s name.

I could see myself sitting up there beside he r. My feet moved me away, but my heart

remained where, one day, my body would return to meet it.

That idea scared me to the point of shaking; the id ea of death. It never used to, but seeing

those graves painted the truth on a canvas of reality—textured in rough strokes of dark grey, blue and

black. It’s real. Death is real, and it’s coming for me—a little closer every day.

But it’s normal. It’s the way things are supposed to be.

Sitting there today made me see—lifted the rose-coloured binding from my sightless eyes and

reflected the prisms of comprehension into my heart. I understand now, how deep David’s pain will

go.

He will lose me one day, and I don’t know if I can live with the fact that he will mourn me

forever. It feels wrong, like I’m being selfish.

But I can’t lose Mum and Harry again, or just switch off the desire to have a child, and I

won’t give away the magic of life for an eternity of blood—even if that same fate would mean being

with the one I love.

Emily cursed, fumbling with the tray, nearly dropping the whole thing as she placed it on the

bench. She straightened the milkshakes and fries, then held up the list of orders. “Okay, fries and

shake?” she called out over the long line of teens sitting shoulder to shoulder at the bench in f ront of

our designated lane at the bowl.

“Mine.” I put my hand up.

“Burger with egg?”

Spence put his hand up.

Like a game of popping weasels, hands shot up along the line, claiming various orders. David

took his nacho’s and smiled at Emily, but the sm ile faded quickly to the seclus ion of thoughts

distracting him like a theatre show in his head.

Ryan and Alana slid into the seats next to me and pointed out some of the other kids fr om

school, already playing on lanes further down the alley.

It seems this is the thing to do in thi s town on a Sunday night , in fact, I’m pretty sure the

student body of Evergreen High make up most of the customers here tonight.

David and I were a little late since we took such a long trip out today, but even though David

was a little quiet on the way here, I know it’s not because he didn’t enjoy the day. So much history

has been shared. David opened up his world of grieving truths today, and it feels heavy on my soul,

like he must feel all the time. But I’m so grateful to him for letting me in. I have a better understating

now of the boy I love, and that will surely count toward the difficult decision I have to make in two

weeks.

“Well, that’s one way to eat fries?” David grimaced at my chocolate-shake-dipped french-fry,

dripping over the cup in front of me.

I shoved the chip into my mouth and muttered “It’s yummy” while trying to keep the food in

and
speak.

“Yeah, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Ryan inter jected, grabbed one of my fries and helped

himself to a dip in my shake.

David smiled inquisitively, reaching over to help himself as well.

“Well, what’d ya think?” I asked.

He frowned at first, then his face lit up. “It’s good—salt and sugar.” He nodded, then looked

away quickly.

“David, are you okay?”

He looked over his shoulder, a fry still in hand, waiting for a kid to pass before whispering, “I

feel like I just want to force you to come with me.”

I frowned, slowly turning back t o the fr ont, catching the sweet, co mforting scent of his

cologne as he sat straight again and si ghed heavily. “I’m sorr y.” He looked down at his clasped

hands on the table. “It’s just…being at my aunt’s grave today really brought things into perspecti ve

for me; I don’t want to miss you like that, Ara.”

Warm blood flooded my heart, and a wave of sympathy almost forced me to splutter out the

words,
Let’s go now. Take me to the bathroom and turn me
—but I stopped mysel f. “David. I’m

sorry, but look—we still have two weeks.”

“Two weeks of nights,” he corrected.

“I know.” I reached across and sn aked my fingertip between the circle of hi s balled fist .

“But…I’ll see you for the last dance at the ball, and who knows what I might decide in that time?”

“You can’t come with me if he loves you, Ar a.” David sat back up straight and dropped my

hand. “Mike can give you a life—he’s better for you. You know that.”

“He doesn’t love me. So it won’t be an issue.” I rolled my eyes.

“We’ll see.” David turned away and walked over to o ur lane. I sat back with my elbow

against the table and my food untouched, watching him become the human David around Em,

Spence, Ryan, and Al ana. The wa y he laughed, with his soul dark beyond t hose eyes, was as

convincing as bleach-blonde hair to me. But to the others, oblivion seemed to be present like a

permanent pair of glasses.

He looked at me and jer ked his head quickly, re aching his hand out as he did. I let my lip

pout for a second; he smiled a nd nodded as if to say “I’m okay,” so I hopped down off the

stool, strolled over and took his hand.

“You know, bowling shoes make your feet look big,” he said, looking down at them.

My toes curled. “Arrogant comments make your ego look big. Besides—” I nodded down at

his shoes, “—you look like you just stepped out of a circus.”

“I think bowling shoes are a good look.” Emily popped up beside us and tapped her toe in the

circle of our conversation. We looked down at her feet.

I hate her. How can her feet look perfectly dainty in those shoes? She wears the same size as

me! David laughed and dropped my hand when Ryan called him for his turn.

“What?” Emily shrugged at me.

“I hate you,” I said affectionately and walked away.

Emily laughed behind me.

Bowling has never been my forte, and, even though David rolled a perfect strike every time,

with the exception of one, becaus e I shot him an inappropriate thought which put him off his game,

we still lost. Ryan and Alana took home the wi n; a giant, stuffed bowling pin—purchased by all the

losers.

“I’ll see you guys at school.” Emily waved as we headed out the door.

Ryan carried the stupid, stuffed pin and held Alana’s hand. “Don’t stay out too late, kids,” he

joked.

“Ha! We won’t,” I said. “But I’m not sure if I’ll be at school tomorrow, anyway.” Time to

give them some story about why David’s leaving.

“Why not?” Emily stopped walking beside Spencer and looked at us.

“Um—” Okay, so making up a lie on the spot is easier said than done.

“I have to go away,” David jumped in. “My uncle is taking me on holiday, so tomorrow is my

last day.”

“Oh no—Ara’s going to be so lost,” Emily said.

My cheeks went hot; David grinned when I t urned my face away. “Well, I hope so,” he

beamed, “then I can be sure she won’t give her heart away to someone else while I’m gone.”

“Not a chance of that, David. I think you might be stuck with this one.” Emily winked at me.

Cool, strong arms circled my waist and pulled me cl ose to a firm , tight chest. “I hope so.”

David breathed out softly into my shoulder as he pressed a kiss to my skin.

“What about the concert and the ball?” Alana stepped around the giant toy pin and her wide,

jet-black eyes reflected the neon lights on the bowling alley roof.

“I can come back for the concert, but as for the ball —well, I may make the l ast dance.” He

snuggled his cheek against mine.

“Well, good luck, David. I hope you make it home safe.” Emily nodded, though there was no

smile on her lips, and her head tilted slightly to one side.

She’s very strange sometimes
. David tightened his grip around me.

“See ya, guys.” I waved again and dragged David toward the car. He opened the door and

grabbed my wrist as I bent to climb in.

“What is it, Ara? What are you thinking?”

“Didn’t you hear me?”

“Not clearly. You had about four different thoughts at once.”

“Oh, um…well, I was wondering why you didn’t tell them you’re
never
coming back?”

David smiled. “We never do that. That’s why telling you about leaving in the first place was

such a big deal.”

“Really? So you just disappear?”

“Yes. Mostly. We send letters to people in positions of authority, like schools or employers ,

once we’re safely away, but if there had been any suspicions surrounding our stay, announcing plans

to leave could create unrest.”

“Oh.” I traced the rubber seal along the window with my fingertip. “But, there’s no suspicion

this time, so why not just tell them?”

“There’s no way of knowing that. People mos tly keep their qualms to themsel ves, and

besides…” he pulled my finger aw- ay as I s cratched the rubber back, “it’s the way we do things.

We’re consistent in our behaviours.”

“But you told
me
you were leaving.” I smiled sheepishly, forcing down a rising yawn.

“Which is rare, mon amour, like I sai d. Now, come on—” he held his palm out to the seat in