The Darkest Dream (The Darkest Trilogy) (19 page)

The feeling of his hand lightly stroking my hair had a very calming effect.
 
“It’s possible to pinpoint a certain person, though, and to read them from long distances.
 
So, for example, when I left you on your own here, I was still listening in—still keeping myself on alert for any abrupt change in your thought process or moods.
 
And had anything happened, I’d have been here quicker than you’d expect.”

“What will it be like…after?”
 
I hadn’t really wanted to ask the question, but the future was plaguing me.
 
What would happen?
 
Where would he go?
 

“Like it was before.”
 
His response made it seem as if everything would be so easy.
 
Like, even if everything went according to plan—even if the both of us made it through all of this alive—I would be able to return to life as it had been.
 
Like I could pick up right where I’d left off, dreading prom and stressing about graduation.
 
Perhaps he had been too far removed from humanity that he’d forgotten what it was like—forgotten what it was to care for someone, to miss them, to want them near.

But even as I thought it, I knew this wasn’t accurate.
 
No, I knew that his feelings for me were just as strong as my own for him—maybe even stronger.
 
He spoke with a sad hope that I would be able to forget him with
ease, that
I would be able to move on with my life as if he had never entered into it.
 
Because this was, after all, what he wanted most for me.
 

My safety, my happiness—the only things he actually desired, I knew.
 

“Tell me about your paintings,
”
 
I
heard myself say, only wanting to hear him speak.
 
My eyes were growing heavier and heavier, and I longed to keep myself awake.

“What about them?”

“Anything.”
 
I stifled another yawn during the brief silence that followed.

“I’ve always loved it—when I was a boy, I’d paint landscapes and dreams.”

“And now?”
 
I felt him shrug lightly.

“Mostly the same.”

“I really loved the ones I saw.”
 
My sleepiness, though I couldn’t be sure if it was mine or the sleepiness Darren intended for me, was becoming harder and harder to disguise.
 

“The ones in my bedroom?”
 
I nodded.
 
“Those were my favorites as well.
 
I don’t need the paintings though—those images have been engrained into my mind since the day I stopped killing humans.”
  
I could no longer bring myself to speak, waves of warmth passing through my body telling me that soon, unavoidable sleep would wash over me.
 

Darren must have been aware of this, as he lowered his voice, still continuing on. “You see, Lucinda…I’ve dreamed of you, too.
 
From that day forward, I knew that you were my purpose.
 
That was why I went on.
 
But while in your dream, we meet in
darkness,
in mine…we meet in the light.”
 

I struggled to stay alert, to pay attention.
 
I told myself to remember his words, but it was too late—they were gone within moments as I unwillingly succumbed, slipping into a peaceful sleep, wrapped tightly in the arms of the man that I loved.

***

I woke very slowly, my body becoming aware faster than my mind.
 
I felt safe arms protecting me, a cool breath on my neck.
 
I felt the well of warmth surrounding me, tucked beneath a blanket that my mind could not recall putting there.
 

And slowly, I remembered my evening.
 
I remembered the two of us talking quietly late into the night until I could no longer fight against the weight of a sleepiness which I considered uncalled for.
 
I cursed myself as the memories washed over me, blaming my weakness for losing out on precious moments that I not only longed to create, but actually
required
in order to continue on after he was gone.
 

Part of me still clung to the hope that this would not happen—that he would change his mind, and he wouldn’t leave me.

I stirred softly, lifting my head and raising my eyes to his face.
 
At once, I stopped cursing myself.

His breathing was very soft, his expression peaceful.
 
His face was covered in shadows and I found myself yearning to reach forward and lightly run my fingers through his hair.
 
I denied myself, though, instead satisfied to simply watch and take him in.
 
His beauty was picturesque, his gentle serenity indescribable.
 
I wanted nothing more than to remain like this forever.
 

For a few moments, I allowed myself to slip back into my fantasy world.
 
I imagined the two of us spending the rest of our lives just like this:
 
falling asleep mid-conversation, waking early to take in his perfection, wrapped protectively in his arms.
 

A fantasy that would never take place, unless…

The thought of becoming what he was once again crossed my mind.
 
How simple a solution it seemed to be.
 
Darren needed help—he needed strength.
 
And I…I needed him.
 

It was something I would never admit aloud.
 
Once upon a time, I had needed my mother—and when she died, I built walls around my heart so that I would never again need anyone.
 
I had failed, of course.
 
Because, once my mother was gone, I needed my father.
 
And once he was gone, I needed
Phe
.

Never, though, did I need them the way I so desperately needed him, now.
 

The need I felt for him was something so basic that I wasn’t entirely sure how I had managed so long without him at my side.
 
It was as if Darren possessed the piece of me that had long been missing, and without that, it seemed impossible to go on.

I tried to tell myself that had
Phe
still been around, I would be thinking differently.
 
Surely, knowing how utterly alone I was now played into how I felt.

But I would never have the chance to find that out, and so the consideration was forgotten.

I had already said goodbye to the life I had known, I realized, memories of the burning uniform crossing my mind.
  
All that would be left would be to say goodbye to was life itself—the life of light and warmth.
 

I knew, though, that Darren could make up for those losses.
 
The happiness that he would bring me would be enough.
 
Spending an eternity at his side was the brightest hope for the future I could find, everything else lost now.
 

He stirred softly and I turned my attention back to him, struck once again by his beauty.
 
I recalled his words from last night, comparing our comfortable embrace to heaven.
 
What could he see in me?
 
A simple girl—not at all as beautiful as my mother, not at all cultured or experienced.
 

Just a girl.
 

Not even the boys I’d gone to school with had taken much notice of me.
 
Perhaps that was part of the allure—the innocence of youth.

Or perhaps he saw something deep within me that not even I was aware of.

“One shouldn’t look so puzzled so soon after waking,
”
 
Darren’s
voice startled me, but I enjoyed the sleepy tone that stirred just beneath the surface.
 
His eyes, as violet as I’d ever seen them, shone just a bit brighter than normal—tinted slightly with a very tender contentedness.
 

“Good morning.”
 
My own voice was just above a whisper, an undeniable smile on my face.
 

“It’s almost too late for morning salutations.”
 
He told me before he shifted slightly, glancing at the clock across the room so quickly I barely noticed his eyes leaving mine.
 
“I can’t believe I slept so long.”
 

“You slept well then?”
 
I asked and he nodded.
 

“I’d forgotten what it’s like to hold someone in my arms.”
 
I closed my eyes as he traced his thumb along the line of my jaw.
 

“Well, I will gladly volunteer my services any time the need may strike you.”
 
It was meant as a joke, but I saw his eyes sadden very slightly.
 
“How much longer, Darren?”

“A few hours.”

“I don’t want this to end,
”
 
I
said quietly, my eyes instantly brimming with tears.
 

“
Shh
,
”
 
Darren
urged, brushing a wisp of hair from my face.
 
“Let’s not think about that yet.”
 
He shifted once again, only this time, he broke almost all contact and I was suddenly struck with a heavy chill.
 
Strange how, though he was not by nature a warm being, I was always struck with cold without him nearby.
 
“Why don’t I draw you a bath?”
 

“A bath?”
 
I questioned.

“Some nice, scented bubbles…”
 
I immediately understood.
 
“And while you relax, I’ll go and scrounge up some breakfast.”
 
Before I even had the chance to voice my concern about the sun, Darren smiled sadly.
 
“It’s another overcast day, Lucinda.
 
I’ll be okay.”
 
He lifted himself from the bed and crossed the room, disappearing into the bathroom.
 

“How did you know it was overcast?”
 
I called as I scooted myself to the edge of the bed.
 

“Our neighbors were just watching the weather channel.”

“Do we even have neighbors?”
 
I hadn’t heard much noise at all, I realized as I thought back.
 

“They’re downstairs, a few rooms down from ours.”
 

“And you…read their thoughts?”
 
I was standing in the doorway now, watching him as he kneeled beside the tub to sense the temperature of the water.
 
His smile was incredibly infectious.

“I could have done that—but I actually just listened to their TV.”
 

“You can hear that far?”
 
My tone was incredulous.
 
“Through walls and everything?”

“With some effort and little interference.”
 
I shook my head.
 
“It can be an incredible nuisance, believe me.”
 

“I’m having a hard time believing you can even do it.”
 
I crossed my arms over my chest.
 
“Besides, who’s to say the news is right?
 
My dad taught me to never trust a weatherman.”
 

“The clerk in the office was quite upset because the clouds make her hair look dull and her coloring sallow.”
 
I rolled my eyes then, giving up.
 
I decided I would never again question him, sighing loudly as I did so.
 
He chuckled softly as he gracefully rose to his feet and came to stand in front of me.
 
“I have an unfair advantage.”

“
That
is an understatement.”
 
I playfully pushed him away and he reached out, catching me by the elbows, his eyes dancing.
 
And once again, we stood as if lost in one another.
 
My body instantly recalled our encounter last night, the way everything seemed to make perfect sense, and I longed to recreate it.
 
His dark eyes held mine and I watched as they grew slightly shaded—recognizing in them the same desire I knew was displayed clearly within my own.

But it was over just as quickly as it had begun, his hands dropping to his side.
 
“Your bath should be ready.”
 
The scent of the bubble bath he used wafted over me, as if I were for the first time breathing it in.
 
It only took a moment to realize I had been holding my breath.
 

“Oh, right.”
 
I remained still, suddenly uncomfortable—a bit of the forgotten sensation of rejection flushing through me.
 

“Take your time.
 
I’ll be back soon.”
 
And just like that, he was gone.

I stayed in the spot he’d left me for a few moments, telling myself to ignore whatever feelings I was having.
 
Was it really necessary for me to continually remind myself not to care?
 
To tell myself how badly I was going to get hurt?

But as I readied myself for the bath, I couldn’t help but remember the fervor behind his kiss—the sincerity in his words.
 
He was doing all that he could to prevent me from falling into a path that would lead me down a dangerous route, but even he was not capable of denying himself everything.
 
I had felt his feelings, and they more than matched my own.
 

Soon, though, our time would be coming to an end and, though I longed for something different, I was becoming more and more aware of the fact that he was not going to change his mind.