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“Not sure there’s much point. Driving alone isn’t that much safer for you than walking. But we’ll think of something. Maybe you can work out a way to get a ride from Madison or some other friend.”
Skye’s phone chimed; she was so on edge that even that familiar sound made her jump. She lifted it to see a message from Clem: Plz tell me ur quiet b/c ur making out with Balty.
Hastily she sent back: Will you SHUT IT b/c he’s RIGHT HERE and he can read?! Skye glanced over at Balthazar, who was paying no attention to her texts. Instead, he stared out the window into the darkness. She would’ve thought he was keeping watch if not for the deep sadness in his eyes.
Clem texted back: Sorry!
It’s OK. Listen, lots of stuff is going on here. Crazy stuff. Will email 2nite or 2morrow and catch you up. Already Skye knew she needed a friend who could really talk to her about all of this; Madison might be fun to hang out with, but she didn’t understand anything about vampires or ghosts, this entire vast supernatural world that hid within the cracks of everything else they’d ever known. Clementine, on the other hand, not only went to Evernight Academy but also grew up with a haunted car. She’d get it.
As she slid her phone back into her pack, she stole another glance at Balthazar. If anything, he was even more absorbed in thought than before. The motion of the bus rocked them back and forth in one rhythm. She said, “Are you okay?”
“I should really be asking you that question.”
Her throat still hurt, but it was a dull ache now, like the sensation of trying not to cry. “I’m scared. That’s all.”
“That’s enough.”
“Definitely. But—something else is going on with you.” It was prying, and she knew it, but Balthazar obviously wasn’t the type to talk easily about his feelings. If she wanted to know more, prying was clearly in order.
Balthazar didn’t seem to mind, but he thought his answer over for a long time. “Those memories—of being alive—they’re the best memories I have. And the worst memories I have. Living through that again brings a lot back.”
“What did you remember?”
A small smile crossed his face. “My first kiss.”
“Really?” That didn’t sound so sad, Skye thought, until she realized how long ago it might’ve been. “When was that?”
“1640.”
Skye tried very hard not to let her shock show; she’d guessed he was old, but somehow hearing him say it jolted her regardless. She said only, “Where?”
“Massachusetts Bay Colony. Just outside Boston.”
It was such a simple answer, and yet she knew from the way he said it that Balthazar told very few people about his past. She wanted to hear more, but didn’t want to push—to abuse the trust he was showing her. So she said only, “What happened?”
Balthazar shook his head. “One thing you can always be sure of—any vampire’s life story has an unhappy ending.”
Instinctively, Skye leaned her head against his shoulder—offering comfort and seeking it, all at once. Even as she did so, she thought, This is too much. I shouldn’t hang on him. Probably he isn’t feeling what I’m feeling right now.
But before she could pull away, Balthazar’s arm tightened around her, and his head rested against hers. Skye closed her eyes. She didn’t know why she felt less lost now that she knew he was lost, too. Yet she did.
Balthazar walked her inside, all the way to her bedroom. As she wearily set down her pack, he went to the window and stared out into the darkness. “I don’t think they’re around tonight. Bianca’s wraith show did the trick.”
“That’s something, anyway.” She walked toward him, rubbing her sore neck. “Maybe I’ll actually get some sleep tonight. But I doubt it.”
“I could stay, if you wanted.” Balthazar looked back at her, his fighter’s frame outlined by the darkness.
“Stay tonight? In my room?”
“Yeah—oh. Or downstairs. Around. So you’d feel safer.”
“I don’t know.”
Skye wanted him to stay as badly as she’d ever wanted anything. But right now it felt like she might do reckless things, without thinking, only to escape the fear beating within her like a second pulse.
“Are you okay?” Balthazar said. Only then did she realize she’d begun trembling again. She didn’t know if that was from fright, tension, exhaustion, desire—all of them together—just that there was only so much she could take in a couple of days, and she’d taken it.
She reached out blindly with one hand, and Balthazar’s arms went around her, enveloping her in his embrace. Skye didn’t cry, didn’t speak. Instead she gripped the lapels of his coat as she buried her face in the curve of his neck. He held her tightly as she breathed in and out, steady and slow, calming herself.
