Page 53 of Before We Burn

Sometimes I wish I was still in the barracks, lying in my room. Not because I regret anything, but because the more I find out, the more I realize the ignorant are lucky and those of us who want to see what’s going on are burdened with the heaviest task of all.

Resisting.

21

LION’S DEN

MARZANA

Ican’t help but wonder if there is a bad joke about vampires piling into a minivan for a night out. Because that’s exactly what we did.

After Bunny dropped that bomb on us about a hybrid vampire, the fear in the room seemed to become a living, breathing thing. We all went our separate ways and started to mentally prepare for either a helpful interaction or the last we’ll ever have.

Constantine had been shaken to her core. She tried her hardest to be inconspicuous, but I’ve known her too long. I’ve become accustomed to her mannerisms and odd quirks, and her choosing the outfits we wore was the biggest sign.

Connie doesn’t like to show she cares about anyone—even me, sometimes. I don’t say anything about it though, because her styling is superb. She’s wearing a maroon-colored blazer with nothing underneath, her cleavage on display, the color complimenting her sandalwood skin. She paired it with sheer, fishnet pants emblazoned with rhinestones on each connecting piece of fabric so they glitter on her while she walks. The whole outfit is paired with classic red leather pointed heels. It is very similar to my black ensemble—the only difference is that I’m wearing a black undershirt and pants. Vampires like the business casual look.

I don’t want Everett to know I’m looking at him, so I steal brief glances under the guise of looking out the window. He’s sitting in the back with me, offering the illusion that it is just us on our way to a date. It’s a nice fantasy, but the reality that it might be the last thing I imagine of us ruins it.

I hold my gaze on him for a little longer just for that.

He’s wearing a black suit with a white undershirt unbuttoned at the top. His gold chain shines against the deep brown of his exposed skin. My gaze travels up his neck, landing on his jaw and lips. His beard is trimmed down and lined up perfectly. It looks nice, but I think I prefer it a bit more grown out.

My memories betray me, and I wish we were back in his bed at the safe house, wrapped in each other’s limbs while I listen to him breathe. I don’t think I have another memory that brings me as much joy as last night did.

I’m struggling, though. I don’t want to care for him; it feels wrong to. Sahara would still be alive if the humans never attacked the school, and I would still have my consistent routine of going to work and going home. But I would be ignorant to all of this. I would’ve never known Alexander was a traitor. I would have never known what it’s like to help people instead of hurting them.

Plus, I am starting to actually like Everett. I want to be around him, listen to his thoughts. I like how nervous I make him, because he is beginning to have the same effect on me. It feels foolish and maybe completely built on trauma—the feedings weren’t helping, either.

Everett turns to look at me, a smile ready on his face, but his eyes seem heavy. I wonder if he rested enough. I didn’t ask him, because he was already in such a temperamental state, and I didn’t want him to think I doubted his capabilities.

“You look handsome,” I say, low enough for just us to hear—or so I thought.

Benny turns around, an arrogance to him I’ve never seen before as he boasts, “That was all me. The beard trim, the line up—it was all me.” He wiggles his brows in light humor, and Everett shakes his head, not yet ready to fully engage in conversation with Benny. I don’t blame him. Some of the things Benny said were heavy.

“Oh, you cut hair?” I try to sound interested, but I’m really not. I want this moment with Everett. I like being around him, near him.

I won’t tell him, though—at least not right now. There is so much risk with everything we were doing, and I’m going to make sure he survives, even if I don’t. I want him to have a full life, one I can’t give him. I can see his ideal family in his mind—kids, a dog, a comfortable life that any mundane person would ask for—and I can never be that for him.

“We’re here.” Connie’s voice cuts through my thoughts, causing dread to churn in my stomach.

I peer out the window to see an abandoned building on a dark street that houses more buildings just like it. I instantly strap my weapons to my thighs, not bothering to hide them. I even decide to bring a gun, not that it will help me much, but it could give us time.

I look at Everett one last time, his eyes focused on the knives strapped over the pants I’m wearing. When he looks back up at me, there is a silent warning there—one just for me.

I’ve got your back.

His thoughts are loud, projected. He wanted me to know that he’ll be there, no matter what. I give him a slight nod to acknowledge it then file out of the van with everyone else.

The environment feels old and haunted. Crickets aren’t singing, wildlife seems to be completely removed from this area, and the trees don’t bear any leaves. My instincts are telling me to get back into the car as I stare down the concrete building.

Windows are blown out, parts of the building have slowly begun to collapse, and the agonizing feeling of being watched sends chills up my spine.

Bunny enters the building, the rest of us following silently. The hallways take us through various twists and turns, leading us through broken concrete and random trash. If you were a wanderer, you would think this place was abandoned. Or that squatters were living here for the time being. Once we finally make it to a door near the back, Bunny opens it to a staircase that smells of mold and mildew. Bunny gives me a quick wink as she files down the stairs without a second thought. I make sure to position myself next to Everett. If something goes down, the humans will be the first to go.

The farther down we venture, the darker it becomes. At some point, human eyes stop working in the dark, but I never cared to figure out when that was. This is one of those times I have to monitor Everett’s thoughts, each one leading me down a path of a compliment or even memory of last night. It isn’t until Everett’s mind shouts at me, ‘Fuck, I can’t see,’ that I move closer to him, taking his hand and whispering in his ear, “Don’t let go of me.”

I see him clearly in the dark, his face taking on a softness he always reserves for whenever he looks at me. “Never,” he breathes out.