quite a few now. I hold them in a wooden
box carved with roses I’ve had since I was a child. Even after all this time, I
can remember my father bringing the box back from one of his trips out of town,
an old, brown thing, with hinges so rusty it was difficult to open. I remember
sitting in the kitchen, hands flat on the table and my chin resting on them,
and watching him slowly, delicately, almost tenderly sand away the paint until
the wood was pale and smooth. He rubbed in wax, made the box shine. Then he
screwed in new hinges, gleaming like silver. That’s the most vivid memory I
keep of my father. I can still smell the warmth of the wax when he handed the
box to me, can still see his smile when I thanked him.
That day, the flowers were already there when I
returned to the two-room apartment I shared with Lorenzo. I had taken a slow
walk after talking to Will—if you can even call what we did ‘talk’. The flowers
were there, and so was Lorenzo, but the note wasn’t.
“Nice flowers,” I said. And it was true. They
always were beautiful.
“White roses are bad luck.”
His tone was my first clue that he was sulking.
Then I looked at him, stretched out on the small sofa that took an entire
length of wall. His eyes were on the ceiling, looking at nothing in particular,
at anything but me. After my argument with Will, the last thing I wanted was to
have an argument with Lorenzo as well, so I pretended not to notice his bad
mood. Returning my eyes to the small bouquet of flowers, I looked in vain for
the white envelope that should have been there.
“Was there a card?”
Lorenzo sat up abruptly, startling me. “You went to
see him, didn’t you?”
I didn’t even think of asking whom he meant, nor
did I consider refusing to answer.
“I did. I tried to get an explanation, but he barely
talked to me at all. He can be so stubborn.”
He laughed at that, a harsh laugh I wasn’t used to
hearing from him, and that surprised me.
“He’s stubborn,” he repeated, “and you’re blind.
Can’t you see why he’s doing all of it? Why he didn’t want you to join the
Cadets, why he didn’t want you fighting in the Guard, why he asked me to have
your back? Come on, now, Aria. You can figure it out.”
I shook my head, because no, honestly, I wasn’t
figuring it out. Or maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe it was too scary to think
that—
“He’s in love with you.”
He stood and came to me, so fast I was a little
alarmed and took a step back despite myself. I wasn’t afraid of Lorenzo, I have
never been, but he looked angrier at that moment than I had ever seen him.
Angry, and I couldn’t understand why.
“Don’t be silly.” I tried to laugh, but my throat
refused to cooperate. “You said it yourself: vampires can’t love.”
But even as I said it, I remembered what Will had
told me on the way to the hospital. According to him, vampires could indeed
fall in love. And now that I thought back on the way he had said the words…
“Leave with me,” Lorenzo said suddenly. “Let’s get
out of this town, go to a place where demons—”
I didn’t let him finish and shook my head. He knew
me better than that. I’m not sure why he even asked. I guess he was more
jealous—more afraid—of Will than he would have admitted. He didn’t look upset,
or surprised. Just resigned.
“I’ve got to go. I can’t be late on the walls.
Don’t wait up.”
He kissed me, before he left the apartment, hard
and long and with the edge of anger still cold on his lips. The entire time, I
couldn’t help wondering if it was true. If Will truly loved me. I loved Lorenzo
more than I had ever cared about anyone, and still I couldn’t help wondering.
That night, I stared at the crumpled note I found
by the sofa for a long time, smoothing it out between my fingers. In the end, I
couldn’t help it. I had to know. I went back to Will.
Chapter 8
The night had been long; the fight, fierce. These