The Darkest Dream (The Darkest Trilogy) (7 page)

I
needed
to know this, even if it was painful.
 

Darren turned to look at me and I was surprised by his laughter, cold and dark, somewhere off in his own world.

“Tears don’t do anything for Demetrius—except excite him, maybe.”
 
He shook his head again,
then
returned his gaze to the table, almost as if he was in a trance.
 
“He wants me.
 
He wants me to return to him—to relive the past, to cause chaos wherever we go.
 
He wants me to go back and be something I can’t be.”

I couldn’t help the panic that rushed through me as I realized what Darren was admitting.
 
He had been like that man—vampire—Demetrius before.
 
More than that, he had been some sort of companion to him.

Somehow, I knew that that part of him was gone, now.
 
It was as if I could sense it.
 
Not only that, though—I thought back to the way Darren had looked at Demetrius, nothing but loathing and disgust in his eyes.
 
Darren didn’t want that life.
 

“Demetrius will do whatever he can to accomplish his task, Lucinda.
 
Everything he can do to strike that spark again, he’ll try.
 
Even killing in front of me.”
 

He dropped his hands to the table and tilted his head, his eyes widening with an ironic look as he found mine once more.
 
I tried to ignore the shiver beginning to stir at the base of my spine.
 
The longing to remain calm and level-headed was all but lost as he continued on.

“Now that he thinks that you’re important to me…well, you’ll get the worst of it all.”
 
He leaned onto the table, bringing himself closer to me.
 
“He’ll kill the people you love right in front of you, force me to watch you as watch them suffer, and then he’ll torture you.
 
He can do things that aren’t even fathomable to most people—most anything, actually.
 
He’s had
a millennia
to perfect his art.”

Again, his soft laughter sent a shiver coursing through me.
 

“And then he’ll kill you.
 
Or he’ll make you into one of us, to spite and persuade me.”
 
I bit my lip, holding back tears, keeping myself from speaking.
 
Some part of me wanted to remind him that Demetrius had already started this—that he’d already taken from me, and I really didn’t have much left.
 

But I held back.

“If you want to go, then go.
 
I’m not holding you here; I’m not
keeping
you here.
 
I was just trying to help you.”
 

I stared at Darren, watching him gaze intently at his clasped hands as they rested on the table.
 
His eyes were clouded over, and his voice had remained so dry and steady throughout everything he’d said.
 
I wondered what was going through his mind that took him so far away—memories, perhaps, of a life he’d left behind.
 

“You can do what you want.”
 
He said finally, and with that, he stood up and walked down the hall.
 

I heard a door slam shut and flinched, my arms wrapping tightly around my small frame as I heard the sounds of a shower coming from somewhere in the depths of the house.
 
I continued staring at the chair he’d just vacated for several long moments before I sat down on the same freshly vacant surface and rested my head in my hands, fighting back another wave of tears.

I knew that I shouldn’t trust him.
 
Now, more than ever, I should want to run.
 
Darren had just informed me that he had, once upon a time, run with the man who had killed my best friend and attacked me.
 

The
vampire
, I corrected.
  

The vampire who had currently set his sights on me.
 

I lifted my head, staring at the doorway that was no more than twenty feet away from me.
 
I imagined myself rising to my feet and crossing the room—throwing the door open and fleeing into the night—running away from this house, and this town, this state…running until I couldn’t run anymore.

But I couldn’t.
 

I turned and looked down the hallway Darren had disappeared into several minutes ago, and, somehow, I knew that this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

My mind was overwhelmed.
 

The fact that I was sitting in the home of a vampire was surreal, yes.
 
But the knowledge of this other world existing…it didn’t even shock me.
 
It was as if I had already known about it—something that had just been locked away in some dark unidentifiable place deep inside me, waiting to be discovered.
 

I wasn’t fully aware of the connections that were being made, the ethereal links that were forming with my newfound enlightenment—some piece of myself struggling for acknowledgement, longing to be recognized.
 
But before I could seize upon those thoughts, I shook them away—unprepared to fully understand what was going on around me.

After a while, I stood up, walking quietly around the basic floor plan of the house and taking in the environment I finally accepted as my temporary place of residence. Everything was cold.
 
Rich and lavish looking, but impersonal.

The kitchen was marble, the furnishings and appliances looking as if they had never been used before.
 
And they probably haven’t,
I thought to myself as I continued on.
 

I opened the cupboards, noting that they were empty—and in the distance, a memory of
Phe
and myself from yesterday morning—was it really only just yesterday?—danced into my mind.
 
I urged the memory away, not wanting to recognize that reality or the pain that came with it.

The black table in the dining room held a vase of dark red roses—and while everything was stunning, it all felt so bleak.
 
I returned to the hall leading to his bedroom and stopped, peeking inside a doorway.
 
It appeared to be a second bedroom, but the room was unfurnished.
 
The only thing in it was an easel, directly in the center of the room, the dark and heavy curtains cloaking the light again.

I sighed and shut the door, walking down the hall and into Darren’s bedroom.
 
Light from the bathroom spilled into the room and I could finally make out the shapes I had seen earlier.
 

More intimate paintings filled this room—a painting of a sunset, another of a sunrise; one of a little child standing in the darkness, another of a woman smiling in the sunlight.
 
Books were everywhere—some on the bookcase, some on the dresser,
some
on the stand beside the bed.
 
The room was clean, but things were misplaced.
 
It was disorderly in such a way as to give it that lived-in atmosphere that the rest of the home seemed to lack.

Sighing again, I walked toward the heavy curtains and pushed them aside, feeling a cold wind come over me.
 
I fought a shiver as I stepped out on the balcony.
 
With my arms wrapped tightly around my body, I finally raised my eyes from the ground—and as I did so, I gasped softly.
 

Darren was leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on the moon—his dark hair slightly mussed, his nearly violet eyes staring brightly at the moonlight.
 
For the first time since I bumped into him that night, which felt as though it had happened years before, I realized how…how handsome he was.
 

He was dressed entirely in black, a knit-sweater clinging to him so that it revealed the modestly broad shoulders and chest beneath it.
 
The lighting hit him just right, so that—if I didn’t know better, I might think he was something out of one of the paintings I’d just seen.

“I’m sorry about how harsh I was back there, but…I just needed you to understand the situation, Lucinda.”
 
Stunning me from my reverie, his voice was soft—apologetic.
 

“I’m sorry.”
 
My voice was
soft,
too, barely even a whisper—but I meant it.
 
“I had no idea…”

“I didn’t expect you to.”
 
He turned around and held my eyes.
 
“There’s just so much going on—so many things that you need to know—”

“And I want to know them all.”
 
I paused, biting my lip.
 
“I want you to tell me everything.”
 
I wanted answers, but I also wanted to feel that the trust I felt toward this man was warranted.
 
Darren had told me to trust him, and everything in me told me to listen.
 
But he was a vampire, and he had admitted himself that he’d been just like Demetrius.
 

He seemed hesitant, but after a moment, Darren gave a solemn nod.
 

“Demetrius is the one who turned me.
 
I was twenty-three, an Irish farm-boy with dreams of escape.
 
We were plagued with poverty—living off of the used up land, starving.
 
I wanted to join the rebellion, but my father was against it.
 
We argued, and I ran off, disobeying him, acting like a petulant child.”
 
He paused.
 
“When I finally came home, my family had been slaughtered.”
 

Darren inhaled a shaky breath as he ran his hand through his hair, and if I listened hard enough, I could detect the vaguest sense of an Irish brogue when he spoke.
 
“When Demetrius found me, I was a mess.
 
I was lost in my guilt and my anger and my grief, and I didn’t care about anything but revenge.
 
He found that…appealing.”
 

“How did it happen?”
 
I was startled by my own voice.

“It’s a simple process, really.
 
The victim need only be on the brink of life and death—and then all that’s left to do is make the choice.
 
Drink in life or breathe in death.”
 

I hesitated for a moment, realizing that my question had been ambiguous.
 
“I…I meant to your family.”
 
I told him sheepishly.
 
Darren almost laughed.

“Oh.
 
At the time, I was told it was a band of criminals—but later I discovered it had been Demetrius.”
 
I looked away, nodding my head.
 
I might not fully understand what he’d been through, but I understood enough.
 
Rather than linger, I shifted the discussion, urging him to continue on with his story.

“You made the choice.”
 
I reminded him.
 
“Life or death.
 
You chose life.”
 

“I did.
 
Demetrius made it all so…enticing.”
 
He had the same faraway look in his eye that he’d had several minutes ago, in the kitchen.
 
“I can’t begin to tell you about the horrors he and I committed.
 
But there were many—and eventually, it wasn’t just he and I anymore—there was another, and another after that.
 
And we were monsters.”

“You changed.”
 
I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if it was more for his benefit or my own.

“I did, but I don’t want you to think I’m some noble creature, Lucinda.
 
I didn’t know what was going to happen.
 
I drank the blood of a girl and not long after…”
 
He shook his head, and I longed for him to finish his sentence.
 
“I didn’t have a choice.
 
I haven’t taken another human life since, but it wasn’t a choice for me.”
 
His eyes found mine and I was startled by the intensity in them.
 
“I’m not a good man, Lucinda.”

“You’re not a man at all.”
 
There was no anger in my voice, no bitterness.
 

“No—and it would be wise to remember that as well.”
 
I shivered then, though I didn’t know if it was from the chill in the air or in his eyes.
 
He broke his gaze from mine and his eyes trailed over my small frame before he walked toward me.
 
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
 
I nodded my agreement and turned, stepping back inside while he followed close behind.
 
“You should—”

“I don’t want to rest, Darren.”
 
I interrupted, already knowing what he was going to suggest.

“I’m just worried.
 
This is all a lot to take in.
 
I want to make sure—”

“I can handle it.”
 
I longed to prove to him that I was not a weak and feeble girl—that I was capable of handling much more than he seemed to think I was.
 
I stopped abruptly, turning to face him.
 

“My mom died when I was seven.
 
She was leaving town to go see an old friend and I begged and begged her not to go.
 
Three hours after she left, I snuck out to go to
Phe’s
and
I…
I found her body in an alley.”
 
I paused.
 
“I was
seven
, Darren.
 
And I handled it.”
 
My mind flashed back to that night, ten years ago.
 
I thought briefly of the alley beside the diner, of the blood, of the scent in the air, the look on her face.