Page 71 of Before We Burn

We all sit in silence in another minivan. Where they keep finding them, I don’t know. There is a different tension in the air tonight, though. I tried to get Benny and Everett to stay at the house with Bunny. I thought it would be too dangerous for them, because the council has never been fond of humans—even when there wasn’t an entire war going on. Rumors say they’re older than time itself, but I don’t believe that. From what I’ve heard and seen of them, they aren’t nearly as old as they claim. They are certainly older than Constantine, because they asserted some type of rule by her creation, but that could’ve easily been done that far back.

I see Everett glance at me occasionally. I have to play the part of the angry partner, because this feels wrong. He should’ve stayed at the safehouse. Bunny too. Her gift is rare, and anyone will take her if they can. I won’t allow that to happen, and she knows that. The thing is, you can’t fight with someone who sees the future. For all I know, she saw what would happen if they all stayed home and decided it’s not safe.

“Are you going to be mad at me the entire time?” Everett asks, and I turn to look out the window.

“Marzana, come on. You know I wasn’t going to stay at that safe house. It would probably be more dangerous to be away from the group right now.”

His thoughts are begging me to forgive him. To look at him. But I can’t. This is dangerous. Everett is human, breakable. I don’t know how to protect all of them; I don’t know what to expect. I look at him, my expression sad, and sigh.

“Please, Everett. I have too much to think about right now.”

I try to refocus my thoughts on the task at hand. I can’t worry about the others at this point, and that’s why I would’ve preferred to do this just with Gray and Nadiya. But I can’t say that in front of Constantine. She would try to take my head off and force me to stay alive long enough to feel the pain of that kind of regeneration. If we even could come back from that—no one has lost a head in a while.

I think about the council, aware they have worked with Alexander closely—they essentially put him in charge of the school because it was, after all, his idea. I sit with that for a moment. Alexander was the one that came up with the school; he had partnered with Onyx long before that school came into existence. We know Alexander sold out the location, and we know he abandoned the school and the students for the military to swoop in.

Alexander is working with the Premier Leader. He knew of all the experiments and fang pulling. He knew the humans were slaughtering not only our kind but the witches, too. He knew that before anyone else.

I hope the council can connect the dots, too.

Suddenly the car stops and the sliding doors open. I don’t like feeling this hybrid side of me. Nausea, something I could go another three-hundred years without, makes my head spin and my palms sweat. We stand outside what looks like an old strip mall consisting of sun-bleached bricks with lettering on the front that reads, The Red Room. The stores next to it are either closed down or closed for the night. Humans in Boston are more tolerant, but they aren’t stupid. They can become a victim like those on the posters floating around here, covered in the faces of people who have seemingly disappeared.

I don’t think about it too hard, though. We waited too long to get this simple visit, and I’m not going to fret over humans who weren’t using common sense.

Gray walks in first, and I follow. The inside is dark with red lighting on the walls, lighting just enough of the hallway to see where we’re going. This is mostly for the humans that stay here.

The council runs this business under a front. Humans think this place specializes in rock salt therapy. The red lights help with brain activity, so I can see why they feel relaxed here. I don’t see how anyone besides the wealthy would have money for it. The poverty level in Boston is bad, just not as bad as other places. The only plus side to this place is they offer warm housing for free during the frigid months. I see right through it, though. It’s a way to canvas who they’re going to eat next. Hunting in the cold is terrible.

We stand at the front entrance for a while, no one saying a word. This was under direct orders by Gray. She is the one who has to do the talking before we get to see the council. Once we’re spoken to, we can speak.

Out of thin air, a person with a silk fabric covering their head stands in front of us. Their hands are clasped in front of them, they’re dressed in a full suit besides the facial covering, and Gray addresses them quietly.

“We have to follow them,” she says to all of us as we slowly move farther into the business.

I want to object and question if she is sure this was safe. The hairs on my arms began to rise and everything in my gut is telling me this is a bad idea. But saying that out loud would come with a punishment I don’t have time to deal with. My eyes roam over everything we pass. The walls are bare, and the lighting is still dim. I don’t know how Everett and Benny are keeping up so well, but I need to remember to tell them they did a good job.

I glance to my side to see Bunny standing next to me, her eyes softer than they’ve been in a while. I furrow my brows, unsure of what I did, and try to ignore it. But when I look back at her, she’s still watching me.

“What?” I whisper, the sound nearly bouncing off the walls. No one turns to look at me, though.

“Do you believe in sacrifices for the greater good?” Bunny asks. The question lands wrong—too sharp, too calm—asked at a time when I’m not ready to hear it.

And yet it stays with me. I understand sacrifices now. Not the way I used to. A sacrifice isn’t someone ordering you to act. It isn’t being cornered by fate or forced into blood and violence the way I once justified it while I went around killing people. That was never a sacrifice. That was obedience dressed up as inevitability.

A sacrifice is Everett and Benny choosing to walk into a room full of vampires, knowing exactly what might happen, and stepping forward anyway. No guarantees. No commands. Just the hope that doing the right thing might matter.

A sacrifice is choice.

But do I believe in them? Do I think we as people should be allowed that choice?

“I believe good people will always do good things. There is no such thing as the greater good, because we all have some evil in us. The prettiest flowers can still lure bugs to their death.” It wasn’t really an answer Bunny would understand, but it was an answer to me at least.

She looks at me, her hand finding its way into mine, a sad smile on her face. “You’re too good for this world, Marzana Popov. No matter what evil you harbor. You. Are. Good.”

I try to stop walking, but she grips my arm and doesn’t allow me to. The child is small but strong. There is something Bunny isn’t telling me, and that has all the alarms in my mind sounding at the same time. I’m about to ask her why she decided now is the time to say that when my body suddenly collides with Gray’s.

I look ahead of me to see the person with the red head covering has opened a heavy oak door leading straight into a moonlit room with five black iron thrones. Each throne is different—one has intricate carvings of a bird, another a fox. The animal representation is odd, as vampires never cared about tiny creatures.

We slowly enter the circular room, my mind lingering on the strange conversation with Bunny. The thrones pull my attention again, all of them arranged in a crescent moon-like shape, and the silence in the room makes it feel like time is standing still. Like we are somewhere between worlds.