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“What? No, I don’t want to leave you.”
“He’s right,” Balthazar said. “This is going to be more dangerous than I thought. You’re not a fighter, Bianca.”
“I’ve learned a lot.” I refused to budge when Lucas tugged at my arm.
Balthazar shook his head. “Fencing class doesn’t count.”
“Bianca, think,” Lucas said. “How often do me and Balthazar agree on anything?”
I hated it, but they were right. My powers wouldn’t compare to those of a full vampire. Lucas’s wouldn’t either, but he had been trained for fighting since he was old enough to walk. If this turned into a full-fledged battle with a group of vampires, I would be out of my depth.
That moment, I resolved to learn as much as I could, to become strong; I never wanted to be asked to leave for my own safety again.
But that was for the future. For now, all I could do was go.
“Do you want me to take the truck back into town?” At least, I thought sourly, I’ve learned how to drive. “Or I could wait down the road.”
“Town’s the only place safe,” Lucas said.
Balthazar nodded. “Lucas should take you back, then return. And we’d better hide the fact that we’re here.” He leaned down and blew out the candle. The room went dark.
That’s when we realized there was light outside the window.
“What—” I silenced myself instantly. Whatever it was holding the light outside (another candle? a flashlight?) didn’t need to hear me, too.
None of us moved, and I strained so hard to hear that I could feel all my muscles tensing. Lucas’s hand tightened around my forearm. He and Balthazar shared a look. Balthazar put one hand on the doorknob and visibly braced himself; in the dim light I could see both fear and hope in his face.
He opened the door. Instead of twenty crazed killers lunging at us, we were met only by a frigid blast of wind. Squinting into the dark, I saw Charity.
She wore mismatched boots and a long, threadbare coat of gray wool that had been patched and mended in dozens of places. Her fair hair hung loose, blowing in front of her face. In one hand, Charity held a flashlight; her hands were sheltered from the chill only by thin, finger-less gloves. “Balthazar?” she said in a small voice, more childlike than ever.
“Charity.” Though he had sought her for so long, Balthazar seemed unable to go to her and unsure of what to say. “Are you all right?” She shrugged. Her dark eyes alighted upon Lucas. “Strange company you’re keeping.”
“I’m off duty,” Lucas called, a smirk on his face. I didn’t think joking was very appropriate and swatted his arm. He glared at me but shut up.
“The girl I understand,” Charity said. “She’s so much like poor Jane.”
Balthazar’s face went pale. “Don’t say that name.” Who was Jane?
“You’ve been following me.” She took one step backward and let the arm holding the flashlight drop; the illumination now only shone on her feet and the deepening snow on the ground. “I want you to stop it.”
“I’ll stop if you’ll come home.”
“Home? Where is home? We lived here once, but that was a long time ago.” Charity brushed strands of hair from her face, the kind of confused gesture people make when they’re struggling against tears.
“Don’t even think about asking me to come back to Evernight. You know how I feel about that woman.”
Lucas and I shared a look.
Balthazar stepped off the front steps, and Charity skittered back a couple of steps in the snow. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought she was afraid of him. He said, “We could find somewhere else. Something else you and I could do. All that matters is that we’re together.
Charity, I miss you.”
She stared down at the icy ground. “I don’t miss you.” It hit Balthazar so hard that he flinched. I put one hand on his shoulder; it was the only comfort I could offer. Lucas watched me but said nothing.
“You remind me of too much,” Charity said. “You remind me of what it felt like to be alive. To think of sunlight as something you could enjoy instead of something you could bear. To breathe and have it change you, refresh you, awaken you—instead of just churning on and on, some old useless habit that taunts you with what you used to be. To sigh and feel relief. To cry and let your sadness pass, instead of having it all bottled up inside you, forever and ever, getting more and more jum-bled until you don’t know who you are any longer.”
“I know who I am,” Balthazar said.
