Page 62 of Before We Burn

“How do you do it? How are you so calm even though you don’t know where she is?”

Ciro glances at me, a smug grin on his face. I used this time to actually look at Ciro. Everything about him seems calculated and well thought out. His hair is perfectly styled in a low fade on the sides with just enough on the top that you knew he has thick hair. His goatee is perfectly lined up and maintained. Even his clothes fit him too perfectly. I wonder if he got them custom made or fitted.

He breathes out heavily, my train of thought lost when he says, “At one point in our lives, I thought I would only have until dawn with her. I thought the last time I would ever see her was when my teeth sunk into her neck and I killed her. I turned her into that monster.”

Ciro pauses to wink at me, mocking the use of the term monster. “Honestly, Everett, Nadiya being away from me makes my skin crawl. I hate it. But the Popov women are something special. If you love her like I love Nadiya, you’ll be able to feel her. On the wind, in the gentle breeze, the smells around you. That’s how you know they’re okay. Because even now, doing whatever it is they’re doing, they’re thinking about us, too.”

I sit with that for a moment. Since I stepped outside, I felt at peace. My mind drifted to Marz, sure, but it was just missing her. Maybe Ciro is right; maybe when I came outside she was thinking of me, too, and the gentle breeze that smelled of firewood was her.

Ciro slaps me hard on my shoulder, ruining whatever semblance of a bonding moment we had left. “By the way, I think your friend, Benedict, had sex with Constantine. Maybe check on him. I’ve heard that once you’ve had Connie, it’s hard to have anyone else.”

I sigh. Another thing to add to my list. “That sounds like a slippery slope.” I try to sound light-hearted, but I just sound stressed.

Ciro stands up straight and closes his eyes as a gentle breeze moves by us. It’s different from the ones before it. This one smells of lemons, citrus, and a fresh fire. My eyes close, and I think about Marz—her smile, the way her green eyes twinkle even in the lowest lighting, and the way her luminous skin shines like gold. I look out in the distance, hoping to see whatever Ciro is seeing. There in the distance is a lone flower, the green and yellow petals creating a distinct difference between the dead grass and bare trees. Slowly, I walk over to it, the colors becoming more familiar the closer I get. Colors I remember from all the times I stole glances at Marz’s eyes.

I walk back to the porch and stand next to Ciro, the flower in my hand and Ciro’s eyes on me.

“See?” he says, as I look up to find him watching me. “They’re thinking about us, too.”

Ciro heads into the house while I stand on the back porch, my mind still entirely focused on Marz. If she wasn’t here with me, I’d use that flower as a reminder that she was coming back.

I take a deep breath, holding the flower to my chest with the firewood smell back on the wind, and I can’t help but think about how I’ve fallen for her. Ciro was worried about Benny—thought he was on a slippery slope—but the reality is, it’s me. I’ve already begun to slip, and I’m willing to let that slope lead me right to hell.

As long as Marzana is there, too.

26

POP GOES THE WEASEL

MARZANA

I’ve learned from my time with Nadiya that when she’s bored, she will drop at any point and lie like a starfish on the floor. I’m unable to lie still like she does—her mind seems to be somewhere else as we skip from memory to memory. We watched the worst of it, though, and I’m at the very least grateful for that.

I expected Nadiya to look at me differently—maybe even demand to be released from my mind so she could go back to the others and tell them just how terrible I was—but she never said a word. Once the hard part came, she made sure she was next to me with our hands held tightly. Our silence was a knowing one.

We were at the part with the kids. I still remember their voices and their tiny pleas, but I was an assassin with orders that I needed to follow. Nadiya told me to push through it. She told me I didn’t need to watch it, but I felt wrong skipping something that changed me so deeply. I watched the scene unfold and never looked away. They deserved that much.

Once that scene was over and we moved to the next, I began pushing through all the memories I could. I’d been at it for a while now—time was different here, so I can’t pinpoint just how long. I feel myself dwindling, the need to feed itching at the back of my throat.

Nadiya tugs on my hand, noticing as I begin swaying slightly. “Stop. You can’t push anymore. You haven’t fed enough.”

I try to ignore her, just wanting to get to the one part we needed to solve this riddle. She tugs on my hand again as my eyes drift closed, but I pry them open and relent.

Rule number three: don’t close your eyes for longer than five seconds.

Chills move up my spine as my head pounds. I sway gently, but Nadiya is there, allowing me to rest my head on her shoulder and attempt to collect myself.

I glance at the scene playing, noting that it’s nothing important. We’re back in the house and it’s empty. I enjoy the ambiance here. The walls are painted such a light powder blue it bordered on white. Pictures decorate the walls—some old and obviously passed down from other generations. Others are brand new, memories that would soon dwindle to nothing but ruin and death.

Suddenly, the door flies open and through it, the woman from the picture comes running in, dragging a younger version of myself behind her. Her face is red and she’s out of breath, tears pouring down her face as I panicked and asked her what to do.

The woman grabs my face and speaks quickly, “Vampires can’t come in without being invited. I want you to gather everything you can. The sun is still out and we can use it to run. They’re coming for you, baby. I’m so sorry. I thought there was more time.”

I watch in horror as she drags me up the stairs and to the bedrooms. I stand in the hall with Nadiya, the angle allowing us to see into both rooms. I step forward, entering what would’ve been mine, to see a birthday card left on my desk. I gently open it to see the inscription from my mother, congratulating me on graduating high school and turning eighteen. My lips quiver with the confirmation.

I really was one of those who were turned too young.

I look up as my mother charges into the room and helps me pack things she thought we would need. She isn’t saying anything, but her lips move fast. Nadiya leans in close to me, whispering that she was saying silent spells.