The Beloved, page 15
He thought back to the last time the two of them had been alone together. The goodish note they’d left on had soured over the decades because he’d soured on everybody and everything—and that was about so much more than the crush he’d had on Rahvyn, and the way she’d ended up all happy-happy-joy-joy with Lassiter. The reality of Nate’s existence was that all he had was time, and he was suffocated by the countless years ahead of him. Every night he woke up and faced the hours like a bog he had to trudge through, and every day he braced himself for the nightmares that stalked him to the point of madness.
Rinse and repeat.
Until what… the world exploded? Yeah, and then what? If his body was completely destroyed, he’d probably just regenerate, sprouting arms and legs and a head again, and end up floating out in space dying and being reborn for eternity.
Oh, and the shit with Nalla tonight? And what he’d put her through? There were so many reasons to stay away from that female—but the biggest one was the lesson he’d learned that was standing in front of him right now.
He’d been burned once already. He wasn’t looking for a repeat that he could mourn for the rest of time.
“Immortality is not a gift, it’s a curse, Rahvyn. And you never asked me whether I wanted this kind of forever. If you had, I would have said no.”
The bleak shock that tightened her beautiful face nearly made him take it back on the surface, tell her he didn’t mean it, that everything was fine. But he didn’t lie to himself, and he wasn’t going to lie to anybody else.
A silver tear traced the contour of her cheek and she captured it with her fingertips. “I am so sorry you feel that way.”
He looked away, to the flames, and thought about how the decisions made by other people steered the course of destinies, for the good, and for the ill.
“Nate, there are so many people who care about you, who want to help you. They have stopped reaching out after all these years, but they are still around you, ready to try again. There is no time limit on love. Even if it is up on a shelf, it can be taken down and held again in the heart—”
“Do us both a favor and leave,” he cut in with exhaustion. “You may have practiced this conversation in your head a couple of times, but it’s exactly the kind of interaction I’m not interested in having. I am not responsible for managing the emotional knickknacks on other people’s heart shelves—or whatever that sappy metaphor is. You’ve already done your best work on me once, and no offense, I’m not looking for any kind of repeat. This first go-around has been enough of a nightmare. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going inside.”
As he was turning his back on her, she said, “I can take it away from you.”
Nate stopped. Pivoted around. “Excuse me.”
With the flames flickering over her face, she was at once of the winter landscape and an ethereal specter. “If you are that miserable… I can end things for you.”
He thought of the first time he’d tested the boundaries of the whole immortal thing. He’d shot himself out in the woods, right in front of Shuli—and then he’d sat up, recovered his senses, and gotten back on his feet. The pain of dying, the suffocation, reflexive terror and sense of impending doom, were all things he’d experienced as if the result was permanent, but the regeneration had come at the end, like a computer rebooting itself after a power outage.
There had been a period in his life when he had tried to deal with the darkness inside of himself by repeating that cycle over and over again. Eventually, he’d gotten bored of it, proof that consciousness could adjust to any stressors if given enough exposure.
What the mind could not deal with was emptiness.
“You’re lying,” he said.
“No.” Rahvyn brushed her silver tears away with both hands. “If it is what you want, I will remove the spark I put into you, and you will die. Then and there.”
He took a deep breath and released the tension in his body with it. Except then he frowned. “Why is this only coming up now?”
“I had hoped you would find your way. I hoped… for a lot of things for you. I thought with enough time, you would come around to see the beauty and the possibility that is—”
“You can end me.”
“Yes,” she said roughly.
“And it’s truly over.”
“You will return to the state you were in when I brought you back.” The female put her palms forward. “But you need to think about this seriously, Nate. Take some time. Because there is no guarantee you will end up in the Fade. I do not know what happens to you.”
“Well, Dhunhd can’t be worse than my version of Caldwell.”
“I want you to make sure you know what you are asking for.”
He thought of the nightmares that plagued him, the ones that put him back in that human lab, the ones he could not escape from. Then he pictured Nalla in that alley, black and red blood on her clothes, her eyes red-rimmed and wide because she blamed herself for a death that didn’t matter for so many reasons.
Nate took a step toward Rahvyn. “Do it. I’m ready now—”
“You have to say your goodbyes first.”
“What? Why.”
“That is my condition.” Rahvyn looked to the sky as if searching for stars behind the cloud cover. “I will not do it until you say goodbye to your parents. Shuli. The Brotherhood. And you will do this properly, with sincerity. I will know if otherwise.”
“Now you’re putting rules in? Really.”
“I brought you back to save your loved ones pain, and all I see is unhappy people around you.” Her head leveled and she stared at him with hard eyes. “There is no peace for your parents. There is just a different kind of suffering from the grief I tried to relieve them of. As for you, you are no better off. I already made this situation worse once, I am not doing that again by cheating your loved ones of closure. You will do this, and then I will give you what you seek. And that is the way we will proceed.”
Oddly, he pictured none of the people who technically came under the heading “Nearest and Dearest.” Instead, he saw a female with the grace of a ballerina and the knife skills of someone who’d worked in a meatpacking district for decades.
Ah, the romance.
“End things in a real way, make the peace, and then you can go.” Rahvyn leaned forward on her hips. “But I will know what you do, so make it count.”
With that, she disappeared with that sparkle of fireflies which were not fireflies.
Nate stared at where the female had stood. Beside him, the bonfire was slowing its roll, the flames not so tall, the heat not so great, the crackling not so loud.
In another hour, it would be embers.
By dawn… nothing but ash.
After decades of wanting what he was being offered, you’d think he’d be relieved. Resolved. And God knew he was used to the physical pain of dying. He’d done it often enough. As for talking to his parents? He imagined they would like to hear that he was sorry about the way he’d been behaving.
All he could think of was saying goodbye to Nalla, though.
At least her father was going to be thrilled.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The following evening, after Nalla had taken over the preparation of First Meal for the Luchas House residents, she put her nicely cleaned parka on and stepped out one of the kitchen’s rear French doors. The night was even colder than it had been, no doubt because the sky was crystal clear, the heavens above alive with stars winking in their alignments, the Milky Way just beginning to appear in a glowing swath.
The moon was still on the rise, its perfect crescent making her think of the way Uncle Rhage had taught the young how to hold it in their palms when it was full: Back when everybody had lived together in the mansion on the mountain, once a month he’d insisted on the kids coming out with him, all those hands of different sizes extended toward the lunar face, giggles and gasps of awe rising up like offerings unto the Fade.
She’d only been four or five at the time, but she remembered so much so clearly.
And those had been such good times, she thought as she made sure the door was closed properly behind her. Made all the more special because no one lived up there anymore.
She started off across the terrace, and then went out over the lawn and into the snowy meadow that extended back to a far-off tree line. The going was slow, her boots punching through the icy top layer to find the cushion beneath the crackle.
She’d ended up staying the whole day and she was glad she had. She hadn’t been able to sleep, but the insomnia had been easier to bear in an anonymous place where her father wasn’t down the hall. She’d borrowed a phone and texted her parents to let them know where she was, and there was no way they’d believed her explanation that she was needed at work. But they’d given her the space, maybe because they needed it, too.
What was Nate doing, she wondered. Probably out in the field.
Part of her day had been spent wondering if everything in that alley had actually happened as she remembered it. The other part had been wasted on one-sided conversations with her father.
Now she was out here, and what do you know. The fresh air wasn’t doing anything to clear her mind, and for some reason, she kept thinking about the way it had been back when the Brotherhood and its families had all been living together at the mansion.
It had been a while since she’d thought about that palace surrounded by mhis, with its entire staff of doggen, all the art and antiques, and the red-carpeted, gold-leafed staircase that had descended to that mosaic depiction of an apple tree in full bloom. Even though she’d been pretty young, she could still remember how the place had smelled, the lemon floor polish and the fresh bouquets, the distant whiff of silver polish, and on the second floor, the laundry soap that she’d been told was handmade just as it had been in the Old Country.
She was sad that the younger kids, like Lyric and Rhamp and L.W., had no memories of being there.
As she pictured the mansion in her mind, she couldn’t help but consider the way the adults had changed. Nothing had ever been said or explained, but overnight, all of the Brothers, as well as the other males and the females in the household, had become grim—and they’d stayed that way. Over the years, the gravity had been less up-front, but the shift in emotions had remained. There had been times when she’d wanted to ask her parents about it—and why they had all moved to town—but she’d always faltered over the wording of the question.
And she’d always wondered if part of whatever had happened wasn’t why things had gone sour between her and her father. Then again, maybe that was just her getting older and all the separations that happened when daughters became mature females and—
A flicker off to the left caught her eye and she stopped. When nothing seemed out of place, she almost kept going, but there it was again: A flare of yellow and orange, like a small fire had been started somewhere inside the forest.
Even though it maybe wasn’t the best idea, she headed in the direction of the glow. The good news, from a security point of view, was that there were trail cameras everywhere in the woods. If there was a problem or a security risk, the place would already be swarming with fighters.
As she walked into the trees, she followed the scent of smoke. With all the trunks and branches, she couldn’t see that far ahead, but then as she closed in on a clearing, she slowed down… and halted.
In the center of the open area, there was a depression in the ground, and the earth was not just barren, as if nothing could grow there, but there was no snow in a good twenty-foot radius from the center. And yes, a small fire had been set in the middle of the sizable divot, the flames working on what looked like a stump that had been dragged over and rolled into the pit. There was also a pile of gathered branches off to the side, and a container of what she assumed was lighter fluid.
But none of that was important. The male who was standing on the far side was the thing.
Nate was dressed in black leather, his clothes fitted to his body, his jacket open in spite of the temperature so that some of his holstered weapons showed. In the restless light of the fire, his face was serious, his eyes locked on the flames, and she took a moment to look him up and down.
He was okay. Physically, that was—and going by all the gunmetal and steel under that jacket, she knew that whatever was happening here was a stopover on his way into the field.
Was that a sweatshirt in his hands?
When he didn’t appear to notice her, she glanced over her shoulder, and thought that maybe she should go back to the house—
Nate’s head shot up and one hand jammed under his jacket for his gun. But he stopped in the process of pulling the weapon out.
“Jesus!” he said. “You should be careful when you sneak up on someone.”
She lifted a hand in greeting, like an ass. “Actually, I’ve been standing here for a little while. I saw the flames and was worried something was wrong.”
“What are you doing out in these woods?” he asked as he reholstered the gun and hid the sweatshirt behind his back.
“I work at Luchas House.” She glanced at the fire. “What’s going on here?”
“Just felt like roasting some marshmallows.”
“What’s with the sweatshirt?”
He frowned. “Do you always ask so many questions?”
“Yes, I do. When it comes to counseling, that’s kind of what you do.”
Nate shook his head. “You’re wasted as a social worker. You’re a fighter.”
She thought about the way she’d missed that kick in the alley—and everything that had happened afterward. “No, I’m no soldier. My father made sure I was nominally trained in self-defense, but—”
“You can’t teach the way you handled yourself last night.” His direct stare held total respect. “Your aggression, your instincts, the way you moved without fear? It’s in your blood. There’s no instruction that tells the student to stab the enemy in the eyes just to dominate them before you kill them. You do that because you’re a warrior.”
Nalla opened her mouth. Shut it. “I’m not sure what to say.”
He shrugged. “Then silence works.”
She searched his too-lean face and wondered about the tension in it, in his entire body. Something had happened since she’d seen him last.
Or maybe that promise he’d made to her sire was haunting him. But fuck that.
After a long moment, she asked, “So why do you want to burn that sweatshirt?”
* * *
Great, Nate thought. He had not been looking for an audience—and he most certainly hadn’t been interested in this particular female showing up at this particular moment.
With everything that was going on between his ears, he felt like he was naked in front of her. In the cold. With all that entailed in the shrinkage department.
And no, he didn’t want to talk about the stupid fucking sweatshirt—
“I’m saying goodbye.”
The second the words came out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. But as that wasn’t possible, he tossed the article of clothing into the flames, and watched as there was a greedy rush, a flare of heat and flame bursting up out of the pit where, thirty years ago, a meteor that hadn’t been a meteor at all had landed here.
Rahvyn. It had been Rahvyn, coming in from wherever the hell she had been, hitting Caldwell’s soil—and his fucking life—like a bomb.
He wasn’t surprised that nothing had grown in the soil after her impact. Nothing had grown in him, either—until Nalla. And he really had to nip that shit in the bud, especially given his new exit strategy.
“Who are you letting go?” she whispered.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut— “Not a who. A what.”
“So that sweatshirt smack-talked your mama?”
He crooked a smile. But couldn’t hold it.
“I’m burning a dream.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the holsters of his weapons pulling at his shoulders. “Not a person, a dream. And how stupid is that.”
“That’s not stupid at all.”
This time, when he looked at her, it was properly. Standing just off to the side of the impact pit, she was in the parka from last night, but had a red scarf and buff-colored trail pants that were new. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, as usual, and her face was arresting in the firelight, her features coming alive.
But as he tested the air for her scent, he smelled a different shampoo and fabric softener.
“You didn’t go home last night, did you.” As she recoiled a little, he blamed himself. “Do you want me to go talk to your father again?”
“Why would I ask you to do that?”
“Did they kick you out because of me?”
Nalla’s frown was a reminder that she wasn’t looking to be rescued. “No, and even if they did, that’s my problem to deal with, not yours.”
Bingo, he thought.
“And as for the dream you’re burning?” she continued. “You’re not being stupid or sentimental. Dreams are even harder to give up on than any reality. What we want, what we imagine in our heads, is a fiction that lives and breathes even though it doesn’t actually exist. When we recognize that it’s not real and we have to let it go? We give up a tender part of ourselves along with the fantasy. It hurts.”
He had to look back at the fire because he didn’t want her to see into him.
But like she hadn’t already?
“You trying to psychoanalyze me,” he murmured.
“No, I’m just sharing an observation.”
“So you’ve given up on some dreams, too, huh.”
“Worse.” When he glanced over at her, she shrugged. “I’ve always been too scared to have any. I’m a coward like that.”
“You’re no coward. No fucking way.”
There was a period of silence, nothing but the crackling from the fire making noise between them. Well, that and some owl half a mile away who was talking into the cold darkness.
“Do you feel better now?” she asked.
He kept staring at the flames, thinking about all the things that could be consumed by them. And all the things that couldn’t.
