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We still have something at stake, I realized. Something to fight for.
Chapter Eight
LUCAS AND I STAYED UP MOST OF THE REST OF that night, curled in each other’s arms out on the lawn. Death had made us immune to autumn’s winds or tfue chill of the soft earth beneath us. So we spooned together beneath one of the large oak trees, half covered by the first fallen leaves as the wind bRew them over us for a blanket. The leaves were the colors of our hair — deep red and dark gold. We were part of the fall. And, for the first time in far too long, we were truly part of each other. “You haven ‘t said we should leave Evernight,” I whispered.
“Don’t think I haven ‘t thought it.” Lucas nuzzled the side of my face. “I hate knowing how dangerous this place is for you. But . . . I have to trust you to make your own call about the risks. That’s the deal we made, and I’ll stick to it.”
With my head still dizzy from the trap in the library, and the scratches on my shoulder sore, I wondered whether I needed to reassess the risks at Evernight Academy. But until Lucas was steadier, I knew, remaining here was our best option. “I’m just fine.” I kissed him, soft and deep. “Nothing worse can happen to me. In fact — it’s like I finally see that so many good things can still happen to me. That there’s a lot I can do here, for you and for everybody else.”
Lucas half smiled. “Not a ghost, but an angel.”
“There’s a lot you can do here as a vampire. Think about how many students my mother and father helped, or how often Balthazar was able to bail us out. Being dead . . . it’s not the worst thing that can happen.”
He was quiet for a while after that. considering. “It’s just — this hunger.”
“I know.”
“If I ever snap, and if I hurt someone … kill! someone — ”
“You won’t.” I wanted badly to believe that, and to help him believe it, too. “You’re strong, Lucas. As a kid, you made it thro111gh Black Cross training that would’ve crushed some adults. You went undercover when you were nineteen years old and you pulled it off. I mean, you fooled Mrs.
Bethany, and you might just be the only person who’s ever done that for long.”
At that, he actuaUy laughed; it was a rueful laugh rather than a happy one, but I’d take what I could get. It just felt so good, being here with him without the weight of the world crushing us down.
I kept counting off points. “You think for yourself, which is a lot rarer than it ought to be. You can admit when you’re wrong, which is even rarer than that. You’re loyal, and you’re courageous, and you make friendships that last forever. That’s all part of you. The best part of you.”
Very serious now, Lucas shook his head. “You’re wrong.”
“Listen to me — ”
“You listen.” He snuggled more tightly against me. “You’re the best part of me. Always.”
I closed my eyes and rested my head against his arm, finally at peace — at least for one night.
The next day, Evernight Academy continued along in its usual whirl of activity — in its own way, I thought, more alive than most of its student body. People jumbled together in the hallways, the vampires sleek and sophisticated, the rest wondering vaguely why they couldn’t fit in. Traveling down the hallways was scarier now, because I never knew where the next trap might lie. But I took it slow and proceeded carefully. So far, so good.
I was searching for Lucas, intending to follow him into class. I wouldn’t distract him; he was honestly trying to do the course work, as a way of killing time if nothing else. After our reunion last night, it felt like enough just to be at his side, and I suspected he would feel the same way.
But then I saw someone who looked lonelier than Lucas had — my mother.
Mom’s clothing was much the same as it had always been: simple skirt, practical shoes, and a soft sweater. Her caramel — colored hair was pulled back in the ponytail she’d worn as long as I could remember. But the spring had left her step, and there was no light in her eyes as she trudged down the hallway toward her twentieth — century history class.
When I drifted through the door of her classroom, she was writing on the blackboard. I read the words along with the students: THE LOST GENERATION. l saw a few familiar faces in the room, most particularly Balthazar; he ‘d lived through this, and remained more hooked — in than most vampires, but I realized he had probably enrolled in this class in particular in order to stay close to my mom.
Oh, sure, I mused. Now you’re thoughtful. Why weren’t you thinking al1ead when Lucas needed it the most? Balthazar had brought Lucas into the fight with Charity knowing that Lucas Wasn’t himself — something I still hadn’t gotten past. But for my mother, if not myself, I couldn’t help feeling some gratitude toward him — and toward Patrice, who sat a few rows ahead and was probably enrolled for the same reason, though she would never admit it.
“The Lost Generation. That’s what they called the people who came of age during the First World War — or, as they called it then, the Great War. Anybody know why that was?” Mom asked tiredly.
She was directing her question at the human students, of course, or at least the vampires who had been turned after that era. It was an unwritten rule at Evernight Academy that relying on historical knowledge you ‘d lived through was too much like cheating.
Skye Tierney, who sat in the front row, raised her hand. “Because the Second World War hadn ‘ t happened yet.”
“Correct.” Morn’s gaze remained a couple inches above the class, not quite engaged with them. Dark circles ringed her eyes. It looked like she hadn’t slept well in weeks. “Because they couldn’t believe humaniry could ever be that stupid twice.”
A couple of the vampires smirked, obviously thinking that was a slam on human beings, instead of what it was — Mom being fatalistic. Balthazar shut his eyes briefly as if trying to shield himself from their stupidity.
My mother clutched her chalk in her hands, fine yellowish powder coating her fingertips. Her gaze was distant, her voice softer than it should ‘ve been for addressing a roomful of students. “World War I shattered people’s beliefs in every aspect of their society. People could no longer worship an aU — protecting God after so many of their sons and brothers died in the trenches. Soldiers who had suffered from mustard gas and machine — gun fire and starvation could no longer trust the governments and generals who had sent them to the front with promises of a war that would last only a few months. Women who had picked up the slack of war work in factories and managed at home alone for years could never be ‘sheltered ‘ again.” Pens scratched on notebooks; keyboards of laptops clicked. Everybody thought this was going to be on the exam. I could tell this was just Mom getting lost in sad memories.
