Vigil (13 page)

Charles smiled and Adin followed him, wrapped in a pleasant haze of

good wine and lively conversation, basking in the warm glow of Charles’s

regard. Adin watched and went along for the ride as Charles worked the

room, his finely chiseled face by turns serious and teasing. He kept Adin by

his side, introducing him as his protégé, shooting him speaking glances and

knowing looks. Charles could be boyish, even though at forty he bore the first

faint traces of silver in his medium brown hair. He had lines near his eyes

from laughter, and frown marks from studying. Adin drank in everything

about him from his long, thin fingers, to the olive color of his sweater, which

exactly matched the color of his eyes, to his easy charm and the way when

he grinned one of his front teeth overlapped the one next to it, negating and

proving his flawlessness all at once.

Charles was a perfect storm of looks and charisma, a man who had

a superior intellect and the sophistication of world travel, even as Adin

84 Z.A. Maxfield

had, but somehow, fuller and more developed, richer and deeper and riper.

Adin reveled in the knowledge that Charles saw something in him; something

Charles himself had said was fine and noble and beautiful. Adin was

thrilled to be with him. Charles Holmesby’s
Chosen One
. Charles wanted

him; he said he wanted to love him.

So yes, Adin had come. And yes, Adin watched Charles like a hungry

boy outside a sweetshop, waiting for a signal that the next part of the evening,

the most important part, would begin.

Finally, they made their way up the stairs and down a long hallway

to a room that seemed enchanted. Warmly lit by a fire in the fireplace it

featured fine linens covering the bed, and a bottle of champagne, chilling

in a bucket next to a vase full of fragrant, exotic white flowers. Charles

unwrapped Adin like a gift, worshipping every square inch of skin as it was

uncovered, touching and tasting and breathing him in. Adin’s affection for

Charles led him to clumsy confessions, trembling hands, and urgency. While

not inexperienced he had never been on the receiving end of a seduction of

such complete skill. Charles took everything Adin gave him so effortlessly,

his demeanor slick and charming, that when the knock came softly on the

bedroom door and Charles’s lover joined them, Adin simply lay frozen and

numb with shock.

“What are we playing with today, Chaz?”

“This is Adin,” Charles purred. “He’s a delight. Come and share him

with me.”

Adin roused slightly when the movement of the car ceased. He

felt the concussion of the car door when Boaz got out, slamming

it shut. It startled him briefly, causing his heart to race until he

knew where he was. The first thing he saw was Bran pretending

to sleep against the door opposite his. After a moment, Bran

stretched and unlatched his safety belt. He glanced Adin’s way

and flushed when their eyes met. Adin turned away, but not

before catching a look of utter desolation on Bran’s face.

Intense compassion. True empathy. Was this what the boy had to offer

someone? Was this why he was worth so much to a man like Harwiche?

They were parked outside a pleasant two-story chalet style

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85

home, set among fruit trees in a pastoral setting. Neither Adin

nor Bran spoke as they left the car and went around to the back

to help. Even on an overcast day, like the one they were currently

enjoying, the house was a cheerful, whitewashed gem with bright

red shutters and matching doors. It had five windows lined up

across the ground floor, four on the second, and one centered in

the attic under a peaked roof that slanted down over the building

like an inverted V. It gave the impression of a face with too many

features, pleasing in its symmetry, but disturbing nonetheless. On

the whole it looked like a clock Adin’s sister had, which featured

a little boy and girl who came out of a door, kissed, and returned

on the quarter hour. It was impossible to imagine Donte there,

gazing out the windows onto the lawns below. Donte had always

seemed more at home in timeless buildings made of stone,

covered with old vegetation and gargoyles. Donte was a granite

fortress, and this was little more than a child’s playhouse.

Earlier rain had left the grounds wet and they squelched

through grass as Boaz led them around to the back. Adin and

Bran followed Boaz past covered patio furniture through a single

half-glass door into a spotless kitchen, all white except for a

dashing burgundy tile backsplash. Adin tried not to track in mud

and grass, but finding it hopeless, he removed his shoes. As soon

as he did, Bran did likewise, and Boaz shot them both a grateful

look.

“I’ll show you to your rooms, shall I?” Boaz led them across

knotty pine floors past a sunny dining area with a large rustic

table and chairs through a parlor and up a narrow, steep wooden

stairway to the second floor. The bedrooms were small. Adin

assumed he was being placed in Donte’s sleeping quarters, a fact

that was confirmed when he opened the clothes cupboard to find

two fine suits and one of Donte’s trademark silk and brocade

dressing gowns. Adin pulled it out and ran a hand over the fabric,

surreptitiously breathing in his lover’s scent. If he closed his eyes

he could picture Donte perfectly, his pride and his ego and his

warm dark eyes. Adin put his own clothing away—there was little

enough of it—then found his way back down the hall to see

about Bran, whom Boaz had settled comfortably at the other

86 Z.A. Maxfield

end of the hall.

“This is nice,” Bran told him as he looked out the window.

“It’s so green.”

“One thing you can always count on is that Donte will live

someplace beautiful.” Adin began hanging up Bran’s new clothes

automatically, removing tags and nesting the bags they’d been

packed in.

“You’d think it wouldn’t matter much; he only gets to go out

in the dark.”

“If you saw what he sees in the dark, you wouldn’t be saying

that.” Adin pulled out the three ties they’d purchased, each one

louder than the one before it, and folded them carefully. “He

showed me what it’s like for him, the way that his eyes perceive

the world at night and how heightened his senses are. It’s

fascinating.”

“But he hasn’t turned you?” Bran asked. Adin turned around,

still holding the ties. “Hasn’t he offered you immortality?”

“Who would want that?”

“
Everyone
.
”
Bran appeared surprised that he’d ask. “When

people die, they all fight it. It’s really hard sometimes, seeing them

give up.”

Adin turned sharply. “You’ve
seen
that…? Yes, of course you

have.” Adin sank onto the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“Sometimes people think they’re going to be just fine, so they

don’t panic. Sometimes they fall asleep or they don’t know what’s

happening to them.”

“Bran. I didn’t realize. That must be…”

“It’s just the way things are. People will fight to live if they

think they’ll die. Even if they didn’t like living much. Even if they

thought they were used to the idea. Sometimes it’s shocking to

them that they really want to live and it’s too late.” Bran swallowed

hard and sat next to Adin on the bed. “That can be...”

“I can imagine.” Adin put an arm around Bran and gave him

a hard squeeze. “I don’t want immortality, but I don’t want to die

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87

either. Is there something in between?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think maybe life is what’s in between. My life, anyway. What

it is and what it’s going to be. Getting old is part of that. Dying

is part of it. I don’t want to do anything to change that. What

Donte offers feels to me like cheating myself out of the things

that are important to me. Maybe dying is the price we pay for the

things we learn and the joy we feel.”

“How does Donte see it?”

Adin grimaced. “He thinks I’m stubborn and foolish and as

fragile as a butterfly wing. He worries that I’ll trip and fall under a

bus because I’m looking at the stars. He treats me like a child he

has to watch constantly.”

Bran pointed out, “Because he’s worried.”

“I understand that, Bran. I’d do anything to make him happy,

except become a vampire. He wouldn’t have chosen it either, so

he can’t tell me I’m being irrational. We’re between a rock and

a hard place. Any advice?” Adin waved the tie in Bran’s face.

“Forget fashion advice because I know you picked this tie.”

“What would I know about it?” Bran turned furiously to his

armoire to rearrange his new trousers.

Now that they’d spent time together, Adin placed Bran’s age

at about fifteen, but suddenly wondered what it really was. “How

old are you?”

“Fourteen. Fifteen next month.”

“Has there ever been a girl?”

“No,” Bran told him without turning. “How likely would that

be?”

“But someone you liked?”

Color crept up the back of Bran’s neck and he tensed, but still

didn’t turn. “Not like that.”

“Liar,” Adin teased. “Keep your secrets, Bran, it’s fine with

me. Unlike some people, I don’t feel the need to sort through

88 Z.A. Maxfield

people’s memories and find out every little thing about them.”

“I said I was sorry. I don’t always do that. I just wondered…”

Adin took Bran’s shoulder and turned him. Once they were

facing one another it wasn’t hard to see that Bran was every

bit the uncertain teenaged boy. His brown eyes, usually full of

mischief, were troubled and his entire face carried doubt.

“Wondered what?”

“Why you loved a…” Bran bit his lip.

“Go on,” Adin commanded. “It doesn’t do either of us any

good if you don’t say it.”

“A monster, all right?” Bran leaned against the aging wood of

the rustic wardrobe. “Vampires are monsters, they need to prey

on weaker beings for food, and they look like people but they

aren’t human. They don’t have human values. Even smart people

like you are taken in.”

“Do you have a monster story?” Adin frowned. “Did vampires

harm you? Hurt your parents?”

“It’s nothing like that. I don’t remember when my parents

died. I know I lived with my grandfather at one point, but he

didn’t want me, and he wasn’t too concerned when I left because

he never called the social service people. I heard later he died in

a fire.”

“But you do have a story.”

“You can’t live on the streets without a story.”

“I didn’t even know vampires existed until I met Donte,”

Adin admitted.

Bran smiled faintly. “Lucky you.”

Adin processed that. How long had Bran been aware that

there was something different about him? How had he discovered

what he knew about the world around him?

How had he survived?

Adin gazed at Bran’s wary face and sighed. It was enough for

now that both were safe. He’d ask for answers to all his questions

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89

when Bran had a chance to process that fact.

“I think we should explore this place starting with the kitchen.

I’m hungry, and if it’s left up to Boaz we’ll be eating an egg dish

before we can conceivably find an alternative.”

Bran smiled up at him, and Adin thought that maybe he was

grateful to leave the serious behind. He was sure of it when Bran

found a small cupboard full of board games and lined them up

on the table in order of his preference, insisting that they had to

play one, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

By the time Adin and Bran returned to the kitchen, Boaz

was already cooking, and they had no say whatsoever in what

he made. It turned out to be spectacular though. He’d made use

of some pancetta and eggs and some thin dried pasta to create a

carbonara that struck Adin as the best he’d ever had. Even in this

far outpost, Boaz refused to dine with them, telling him that he

preferred to eat alone.

They sat at a long rustic pine table in front of a row of

windows. Outside the sky was growing darker. Soon the only

light would come from the stars and the moon, as there was

nothing beyond the windows but grass and fruit trees.

Boaz had the table set with woven placemats and checkered

napkins. He served the food on mismatched transferware dishes,

and uncorked a bottle of red wine, putting glasses out for both

Adin and Bran, but watering Bran’s wine considerably. They ate

by the light of two hurricane style lanterns while a strong wind

outside caused a draft through the wooden window frames, even

though the windows themselves were closed.