The Darkest Dream (The Darkest Trilogy) (13 page)

Some stupid vampire myth?
 
Some old vampire’s need of a friend?
 

I should have been there.
 
It should have been me.

The image of her parents and brother clinging to one another flashed before my eyes and I turned my head, trying to run away from it.
 

“Her family…”
 
I swallowed hard at the ball in my throat.
 
“They’re worried about me.”
 
It was the most difficult part to handle—seeing the people who had been such a force in my life mourning the loss of their own daughter and pleading for the life of her best friend.
 

As if my presence could in any way lessen the pain or fill the void.
 

“They’re in so much pain.”
 
My words were barely a whisper.
 

“It will fade with time.”
 
I nodded knowingly, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.
 
“You’ll go back to them soon.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Darren.”
 
How could I return to my old life as if nothing had changed?
 
How could I go back to them after what had happened to Phoebe?

“What would you do instead?”
 

What I wanted was simple:
 
To stay with him—to be wherever he was.

“You can’t do that, Lucinda,
”
 
I
lowered my eyes, staring at the way my arm was wrapped around his stomach.
 

And I felt a new, different kind of ache swell in my chest.
 

This was not the pain of loss—a feeling with which I had become very familiar.
 

This was the pain of rejection, something I had never before experienced.
 
I had never allowed myself to come close enough to anyone in order to be rejected before.

“I don’t know,
”
 
I
answered finally, softly, distracted now as I tried to envision living a normal life after all of this.

“Lucinda…”
 
His fingers began to work through my hair, almost absentmindedly.
 
“Where did you get that name?”
 

“It was my mom’s idea.
 
Everyone usually calls me Lucy.”
 
I told him, welcoming the change of subject.

I’d never much cared for my name.
 
My mom had insisted though, and my dad had loved her enough to do anything she wanted.
 
He often told me throughout my childhood that he’d only agreed because the Beatles had written a song about Lucy, and he had forever loved the Beatles.
 

“Lucy…something one would call a little girl.”
 
He shook his head.
 
“That won’t do.”
 
He paused.
 
“Do you know anything about it?”
 
I shook my head this time.
 
I’d never cared to find out really.
 
“It’s derived from Latin.
 
It means ‘light’.”
 
He paused once more, thinking.
 
“I think that’s accurate.”
 

“I didn’t know that,
”
 
I
said, honestly grateful for the enlightenment.
 
At least it stemmed from something pleasant.
 
I sighed softly then, for the first time becoming aware of the rain.
 
I could hear
it’s
rhythmic tapping on the roof, and on the balcony outside.
 

I had always loved the rain.
 

I breathed in softly, taking in his scent—welcoming the comfort I derived from it.

“What’s the plan, Darren?”
 
I hated to change the subject to something so serious, but I was also afraid to settle on any one topic for too long.
 
He always seemed to shut down, just as I was opening up.
 

But this was important.
 
And I’d already strayed so much from my business only pact—I knew I needed to get back on track.
 

“I’m not sure,
”
 
he
responded honestly.
 
His fingers stopped moving in my hair and I almost regretted saying anything.
 
“What we need is the element of surprise.
 
Taking the fight to him…it wouldn’t be wise.
 
But luring him out will be almost impossible.
 
He won’t go alone, no matter what.”

“Our options are stake or sun?”
 
He nodded.
 
“
Which leaves stake, then.
 
Obviously, if you intend on participating…since the sun is not exactly optional for you.”

“It’s still an option.”
 
I breathed in sharply, my heart suddenly aching once more at the thought of Darren sacrificing himself.
 
“It’s my fault you’re involved, Lucinda.
 
My only concern is keeping you safe.”

“I won’t let you go into this alone, Darren.
 
I don’t care what you say.”
 

If he was willing to die for me—no, I refused that as even the most desperate option.
 
I wouldn’t let him.

“No.”
 
The tone of his voice told me there was no room for argument, and so I let it go, resolving within
myself
that I would do what was necessary.
 
“I have someone looking into a few things now.”

“Your friend?”
 
I asked, remembering the “she” he had mentioned earlier.

“A caster.
 
She may be able to offer some…protection.”
 
I sighed
softly,
wondering how much was out there that I had no clue about.
 
First it was vampires, then it was casters…what else was out there?

I remembered Darren telling me that there were worse things than vampires in the world, and I decided I didn’t want to know.

“The goal would be to lure him to our chosen location, separate him from his horde…and I kill him.”
 
It sounded so simple—but he and I both knew it was going to be anything but.
 
There were still so many details to be worked out.
 
“I’ll call
Marleja
in a few hours, to see if she’s come up with anything.”

“If not?”

“The plan doesn’t change.”
 
His tone was so matter-of-fact, as if he had everything worked out.
 

“That’s hardly even a plan, Darren.
 
It’s the
beginning
of a plan, if anything.”
 
I was frustrated with him for acting so stubbornly.
 
“There are so many variables—”

“I’m aware of the variables.
 
But the basic structure of this remains the same.
 
He comes to me, I kill him, and all of this will be over.
 
You’ll be able to live your life and forget that any of this happened.”

“And if you don’t succeed?”
 
I looked up then, taking his eyes and holding them.
 
Because
that
was a very real possibility, wasn’t it?
 
Hadn’t Darren told me that Demetrius was stronger than him?
 

“That’s not an option.”
 
The determination was so present in those dark
eyes,
I could almost feel the hatred he felt toward the other man.
 
Darren was unwavering in his resolve, and it was obvious in the storm that raged on through his gaze.
 

Demetrius would die, and it would be soon.
 
There was no question of that in Darren’s mind.

“You’ll be safe.”

“You and I both know that’s not my concern.”
 
He sighed heavily, his eyes probing mine.
 
Had this been another reality, I would have assumed Darren and
I
to be lovers of some sort.
 
I imagined that alternate world, where none of the bad had happened.

My parents still lived, the two of them happily dancing around in the living room of the home I’d grown up in.
 
Phe
was still alive, and sneaking out at night to see Jonathan.
 

And Darren was a man that I could love.
 

He was older, but only by a few short years, and he still understood me.
 
But it had nothing to do with vampires and darkness, and everything to do with an undeniable bond formed at first sight.

“Lucinda…”
 
There was a warning tone in his voice, but I could see in his eyes that he too ached for this alternate reality.
 
I longed to continue the fantasy as I felt his thumb grazing softly over my cheek.
 
I hadn’t realized I’d actually shed a tear until his cool finger brushed it away, leaving an icy moist trail behind.
 

“I’m sorry,
”
 
I
whispered, ducking my head and resting myself back on his chest.
 
I felt his hand slip underneath my chin and lift it slightly, so that he could see my face.
 
As his eyes met mine, another few tears escaped and he wiped each of them away.
 
“
It’s
okay, Darren.
 
I’m okay.”
 
I was lying, and we both knew it.
 
His touch was soft as it brushed away another few fallen tears.
 
“I’m just a silly little girl.
 
Don’t…”

“No, you’re not.”
 
He shook his head and I felt the tears begin to flow more freely.

“Aren’t I, though?”
 

My voice was so small and I wondered where this had come from.
 
“A silly little girl with nothing more than a crush.
 
And what right do I have?”
 
I glanced away, looking down at his chest.
 
Tear drops were visible on his thin gray shirt, small circles of darkened fabric.
 

“It will fade.”
 
He told me—and it wasn’t like before.
 
This was more of a promise.

And I was struck by the pain in his voice.
 
He didn’t want to believe the words he was saying, but I could tell he was trying.
 
“Once all of this is over…you’ll have a life, Lucinda.”
 

I wanted to continue the conversation, but something told me to end it now, before it got too painful.
 
Having only known this man for less than seventy two hours, I was undeniably attached to him—and knowing that the feeling was not mutual was not a pain I desired to feel.
 

It was difficult removing
myself
from his embrace, but I scrambled away from him, quickly rising to my feet.
 
I needed to be alone.
 
I needed—

But I didn’t finish the thought as I stepped forward, my head suddenly swimming.
 
He was at my side in a moment, his arms steadying me as he quickly searched my eyes.
 

“You need to eat.”
 
His voice was taut with concern as he lifted me into his arms and crossed the room.
 

It barely took the blink of an eye to find myself seated at the small table.
 
I heard him behind me, gathering the bags he had dropped to the floor the night before.
 
“I bought some things—
”
 
He
didn’t clarify, but suddenly the scent of peanut butter filled the room and my stomach ached with unrealized hunger.
 
I wondered when I’d last eaten.

He was very proficient with his hands, I realized, as seconds later a perfectly formed sandwich sat in front of me.
 
I bit into the bread, not even minding the taste of warm jelly.
 
It was quite possibly the best meal I’d ever had.

Darren wasted no time, quickly fetching a glass of water and returning with not only the beverage, but also a small bag of potato chips.
 
While I devoured everything he placed in front of me, he quickly put together another sandwich.
 
I took my time with this one though, knowing the pains of overeating, and this time left the crusts behind.
 
I wasn’t going to make myself sick by eating too much too fast.
 

“Drink,
”
 
he
ordered, placing another glass of water in front of me.
 
I took my time with this as well, recalling that I had, the night before, made sure I was quite hydrated.
 
“I meant to make you eat last night.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“You weren’t thinking about being hungry.
 
Like just now.
 
You hadn’t even thought about food until I placed that sandwich in front of you.”

“I’ve been a bit preoccupied,
”
 
I
said curtly, pushing back from the table and rising to my feet.
 
I knew I should have waited a moment longer as I felt another wave pass through my head, but I used the chair to steady myself before taking a shaky step forward.

“Are these—?”
 
I waved my hand at the bags now resting on the bed and he nodded, not needing any further clarification.
 
“I’m taking a shower.”
 

I almost expected him to question me—to tell me I had just taken one several hours before.
 
But he said nothing, and I didn’t stop.
 
Instead, I made my way to the bathroom, carrying with me the few bags that were seemingly packed to the brim with items.
 
I was dying to get away from him—away from that room, away from his
eyes
.