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He looked at our reflections on the surface of the pool, as if weary. Although I could see that his anger was diminishing, it was being replaced by depression. That wasn’t much easier to witness. “Mom’s a good soldier. Like I always tried to be.”
“Like you are.”
“Good soldiers don’t sacrifice the cause for love.”
“If the cause isn’t love, then it isn’t worth the sacrifice.”
Lucas gave me a sad smile. “You’re worth it. I know that. Even when you mess up. Because God knows I mess up, too.”
I wanted to hug him, but somehow I sensed the moment wasn’t right. The inner demons Lucas was grappling with needed to come out.
He continued, “My whole life, I’ve been in Black Cross. I’ve always known who I was, what my purpose should be. I knew I would be a hunter forever. But now that’s all over.”
“I know how that feels,” I said. “I always thought I would turn into a vampire. Now I don’t know what comes next. It’s—it’s scary.”
Lucas took my hand. “As long as we’ve got each other,” he said, “it’s worth it.”
“I know that. But I still wonder—Lucas, what will we become?”
He admitted, “I don’t know.”
I put my arms around his neck and held onto him tightly. We needed more than love; we needed to be strong enough for faith.
The next couple of days were quieter, even relaxing. Although Lucas obviously spent some time brooding about his mother, the argument between us had ended. We watched TV or walked around to see the sights in Philadelphia. One day we split up, so I could find out if any restaurants needed waitresses, while Lucas applied for jobs at garages. To our astonishment and relief, we both got offers to start right after the holiday.
We spent every night in our room, together.
I hadn’t realized it was possible, to want someone even worse the more I was with him. All I knew was that I didn’t feel shy any longer. I didn’t have any doubts. Lucas knew me like no other person ever had, and I never felt safer than when I was with him, totally, completely. Afterward, I curled next to Lucas and sank into a sleep too deep for dreams.
Except, that is, for the night of the Fourth of July. Maybe it was the fireworks, or the sugar rush from cotton candy, but that night, I had the most vivid dream of all.
“I’m right here,” said the wraith.
She stood in front of me, looking not like a phantasm but like any other person. I could feel the death in her, leaching heat out of my living body. That wasn’t something she was doing to be mean—it was just the nature of what she was.
“Where are we?” I looked around us but couldn’t see anything. It was so dark.
Her only answer was, “Look.”
I looked down to see the earth far below us. We were suspended in the night sky. Like the stars, I thought, and for a moment I was happy.
Then I realized that I recognized the figures walking far beneath me. Lucas, his head bowed, walked toward a tree that swayed in the violent wind. Behind him was Balthazar.
“What are they doing?” I said.
“Shared work.”
“I want to see.”
“No,” the wraith said. “You don’t want to see. Trust me.”
The wind whipped around us even more strongly. The wraith’s blue-white dress rippled in the gale. “What won’t you let me see?”
“Look if you want.” Her smile was sad. “You’ll wish you hadn’t.”
I have to look—I can’t look—wake up, wake up!
Gasping, I pushed myself upright in the bed. My heart was pounding. Why had that dream frightened me so badly?
