Free After Daybreak by J. A. London Page B

the display, and answers. “Hey, Mom . . . Yeah, I am. Now? Okay. Okay, I get it. Okay. Okay.”
    Hanging up, she rolls her eyes. “My mom. She’s got me on a short leash. I’ve gotta go.”
    Even though Tegan would consider it a betrayal if she knew how I felt, I can’t blame her mom. Tegan snuck on the train so she could go to Los Angeles with me. I’m sure her mother wasn’t aware of her plans.
    “I’m sorry your family was worried.”
    “They don’t understand. You’re my best friend in all the world. I couldn’t let you go alone.”
    I squeeze her hand. “I’m glad you were there.”
    “Not that I did much good.” She pouts. “Missed my chance to stake Sin.”
    “We haven’t seen the last of him.”
    “I’ll be ready next time,” she says.
    Unfortunately, I don’t know if it’s possible to prepare for any encounter with Sin. He’s not exactly sane.
    She gives me a big hug. “Please come back.”
    “I will. Count on it.”
    She opens the door.
    “Hey, Tegan?”
    She stops and looks back over her shoulder.
    “You didn’t answer my question about you and Michael.”
    “Would it bother you if I liked him?”
    “I think it would be awesome. The two people I love most in the world loving each other.”
    She suddenly looks shy and vulnerable. “Then maybe. I don’t know.”
    “He’s a really good guy.”
    She smiles. “That I do know. And he’s hot.”
    She leaves, and the sudden emptiness of the room descends on me. The tape recorder draws my attention, but I turn away and get serious about packing. Just enough clothes to get there and back. With four of us in the car, there won’t be room for extras. I’m sure Victor can buy me whatever I need in New Vampiria—I kind of doubt they’ll accept cash from a human. Actually, maybe a little shopping wouldn’t be too bad. Old Family always dress so well. I’m bound to be introduced to designers, tailors, dressmakers.
    I pack, unpack, repack about a dozen times. Of course, I’m just avoiding that tape player. I know why. Because I already know what’s on it. Not the exact words. I don’t know when it was recorded or where. All I know is that the voices on it will be familiar.
    The voices will belong to my parents.
     
    The sun is beginning to set, and I know I’m running out of time. If I’m going to do this before I leave, I need to suck it up and do it.
    At my desk I keep repositioning the recorder, as if its exact placement will radically affect the outcome of what’s on the tape. When I’m satisfied, I take a deep breath and hit play.
    The wheels of the tape begin spinning. Static. Then Dad’s voice.
    “Is it recording?”
    “Yes, William.”
    Mom!
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes.”
    “I just don’t want to mess this up.”
    “William, please, just—”
    “Okay, okay. Hi, Dawn, it’s Dad here. I’m sitting with your mom and, well, we just wanted you to know how much we love you.”
    “That’s right, dear. Dad and I love you so much. And if you’re listening to this, then . . . well, then we aren’t there anymore for you.”
    “We’re sorry, Dawn. Whatever happened, we’re so sorry. When we signed up for the assignment as delegate, we knew it would be dangerous. We knew the risks, but we also knew the reward. Because we aren’t just representing Denver, we’re representing humanity. Remember that. Your mom and dad are doing this so that, one day, you won’t have to be afraid of the dark.”
    “Whatever happened, don’t blame anyone, Dawn,” my mom says. “Don’t hold any anger inside, because it’ll only rot you, and you’re too beautiful, too precious for that. And you’re too beloved.”
    “I want you to know that, no matter what, we always love you, Dawn. And our last thoughts were of you. We love you.”
    “We love you, Dawn.”
    “We love you. . . .”
    The static rolls on and they’re gone again. I shut off the recorder.
    And I begin to cry. I put my head in my hands and let everything