Chapter 22
22
Recovered Journal of Dr. Georgia Clark
April 11, Year 1, Emergence Era
In Austin I was alone. I had Juno and the others at the Governor’s Mansion, but when I went to the lab, it was only me. I ran my lab as a one-woman show and went through thousands of trials on the Sierravirus. I thought I was going to find a vaccine for it, that it was only a matter of time. Now I know how stupid I was. Or maybe that was hubris, isn’t that the old school word for it? But now I know better. Having a team—even if it has people like Aang who make me want to pull my hair out—is the only way humanity is going to overcome this virus. Together.
V alen treated me with kindness. Valen treated me with kindness ? I rub my eyes and look around Valen’s bedroom. It’s the same, no hint about how long I’ve been asleep or where he might be. I crawl from the bed and remember I’m only wearing a towel. Where are my clothes?
I peek into the bathroom and find my answer. Bloody, shredded material is strewn across the marble floor, and the tub still has a slight pink tinge to it. I don’t want to see it, to think about it. I’ll just have to do a modern walk of shame through this medieval nightmare castle.
Pausing at the doors leading to the hall, I steel myself. Unless Valen’s cleaning crew is especially talented, there’s no way they could remove all the blood—mine and Gorsky’s. It’s a blur, but I’m almost certain Valen turned him into mush. I clutch my towel tighter as that unpleasant thought grows larger and larger, so big that it’s jammed against the door to the point I’m afraid my shaking hand won’t be able to turn the knob.
“Just go,” I tell myself through clenched teeth. “Go!”
I yank the door open and force myself to walk. To just fucking walk and not look too closely at anything.
Relief floods me when the hallway seems to be just as it was before. Still, I hurry past the place where Gorsky pinned me, where he—No. I can’t think of it, not right now. My steps quicken, and before I realize it, I’m sprinting through the corridors, past the library, past the staid rooms with too much gold, too much finery, then up, up, up, climbing the stairs so fast my thighs burn.
Once I’m in my room, I slam the door and press my back to it.
Safe .
My lungs burn, but it’s a good ache this time. They aren’t damaged or deflated. They’re healthy and whole. ‘ Thanks to Valen ,’ my mind whispers.
“I wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Valen,” I snap.
Damn, now I’m talking to myself. I was right about this underground prison making me go nuts eventually. How could it not?
I toss the towel and take a shower with the water one degree shy of scalding. Every trace of blood goes down the drain, and I scour my skin mercilessly until every inch is wiped clean and inspected. It’s pink in spots, and not just from the water. The skin is soft and smooth, like scar tissue but not. Once I’m out of the shower, I inspect them all in the mirror. The ones on my arms and my head—I know how they got there. Gorsky bludgeoned me enough to break skin and bone in several spots. But the marks along my sides, those are curious.
Turning this way and that, I take stock of all the spots and find the biggest ones along my ribs on both sides.
“What the fuck?” I stare for a long while. A possible answer ricochets around my skull like a pinball from one of those old arcade games. But there’s no way. I would’ve died if Valen had done what I’m thinking. But if I look at it clinically, the conclusion becomes plainer, almost obvious. I was unconscious, my lungs deflated, my heart possibly stopping or right there at the brink. Valen—I swallow hard as my mind recreates a possible scene—must’ve torn through my skin to reach my lungs, to use his blood to heal them. He did an emergency surgery with nothing but his hands.
“Holy shit,” I mumble as I go to my closet and get dressed. “Holy fucking shit.”
For the next three days, I wander around the castle, invading spaces that were previously off limits because I knew Gorsky favored them. His death has left me scarred inside and out, but at least I’m not afraid of him anymore. I have plenty of other things to fear, so it’s nice to check one thing off the list.
His room is messy, clothes hanging from his dresser drawers and his bed unmade. Old magazines litter his nightstand. I pluck one up and flip through it. It’s from the 90s, the women on the pages wearing combat boots and butcher’s aprons while the caption promises “Riot Grrrl Revolution”.
I’m in his bathroom snooping through his drawers when I hear the hallway door open. I freeze, then hurry behind the bathroom door and hold my breath.
Shuffling sounds emerge from the bedroom, and then I hear a ‘ fwoompf ’ that tells me someone is stripping the bed. The new staff? I lean back a little to try and get a look through the hinged part of the door. When I get a good angle, a green eye appears on the other side.
I scream and jump back.
“I can hear you in there.” A male voice. “Your pulse is kind of insane. Sit down or something.”
I clutch my chest, my heart threatening to vacate the premises. With careful steps, I edge around the door. Black wings greet me as the male vampire stuffs all the bedding into a large canvas laundry sack.
“Hi?” I don’t know what to say. It’s been so long since I’ve seen anyone else here in the castle—not counting the horrors of the ball.
“Hi yourself.” He keeps working, his back to me.
“I’m—”
“I know who you are.” He sighs and starts grabbing the clothes from the bureau. “What a pig this guy was.”
“Are you the new staff?” I ask.
He whirls. “Staff?” His black eyebrows draw together. His skin is a warm bronze, his eyes green, his hair black and curly. And he’s large. So much so that he reminds me of Coal. “You think I’m staff?”
“I don’t know. I was just … I mean, Valen said he had new staff and you,” my words are falling all over each other, “you were in here doing housekeeping so I thought maybe you were the new staff person he got to replace …” I can’t say her name, especially not in the same sentence with the word ‘replace’. Melody is irreplaceable.
“Housekeeping?” He runs a hand through his hair, and I get the distinct feeling that he might be all right. Not like the vampires at the ball. But I can’t trust that instinct, not when he has fangs and I don’t.
“Sorry, I’ll just go.” I edge toward the door.
“I’m not a housekeeper,” he says. “I’m not supposed to be, anyway.” He jams some of Gorsky’s clothes into the bag. “Yes, I cleaned up what was left of this guy, and now I’m cleaning up this pile of filth, but?—”
“You were the one outside Valen’s room?” I ask. “After … After he …”
“Yeah.” He shakes his head, his curls falling across his forehead. “Valen always takes shit too far, but that was … I mean, I could only find bone shards, no actual bones. And a few teeth.” He sounds impressed.
My stomach gives an ugly lurch.
He stops violently packing clothes into the bag. “I’m Drui—I mean David. I’m David.”
He’s obviously lying about his name, but I let it go. It’s not as if I expect anything from him. “Hi David. I’m Georgia.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“So you’re a Corvidion?” I ask.
One of his wings twitches. “What gave it away?” he drawls.
I can’t tell if he’s being mean or funny. Given that he’s a vampire, I have to assume the former. “I’ll um, leave you to it.” I back toward the door.
“Sure.” He grabs another fistful of clothes and stuffs them into the bag. “I’ll come get you later. Valen said it’s garden time for you tonight.”
A thrill goes through me. Outside. I get to go outside. “Okay.”
He stops, his eyes meeting mine. “Don’t try anything while we’re out there.” He flexes his wings, my eyes going wide as they spread, black webbing covering bone. “I can catch you easily.”
I stare as he pulls them in and tucks them against his back.
“You keep looking at me like that and Valen will tear my wings off and feed them to me.” He yanks a drawer open and grabs more clothes. “See you in an hour.”
True to his word, he’s in my hallway an hour later. He doesn’t knock so much as bang on my door with a fist in a bam-bam-bam … bam-bam sort of rhythm.
“Let’s go.” He jerks his chin toward the stairs when I open the door.
I walk along with him, my gaze always drawn back to his wings. I’d love to know the structures, how they connect to his back, what muscles they use.
“Seriously, you have to stop staring.” He doesn’t even look back at me as we enter the elevator hallway.
“Sorry.” A blush creeps across my cheeks, which is idiotic. Of course I’m going to stare. Humanity didn’t even know vampires existed a year ago. “It’s just that I don’t see wings every day.”
“You’re with us now.”
“Us?”
“Vampires.” He closes the elevator gate and swipes the lever. “You should get used to it.”
I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or simply straightforward. Not that I’ve ever been good at reading people, but this is a new level of confusion. “I saw some at the ball, and Valen’s friend Coal?—”
“That’s right, you met Coal.” He opens the grate once we reach the top. “He’s the head of my Blood.”
“Corvidion.”
“Yes.” He walks out ahead of me, the moon just a sliver behind wispy clouds. The air is heavy, like storms either just passed or are on the way. I breathe in deeply, the musky scent of the garden and the crisp air like a balm on my battered soul.
“Like I said, don’t try anything.” He crosses his arms over his wide chest, his gray t-shirt straining.
“I won’t.” I made the same promise to Melody.
“All right.” He gestures toward the overgrown roses and silent fountain. “Have at it.”
I hesitate for a few moments, my desire to get out into the garden at odds with my need for information.
“What?” he asks, the slightest hint of a Southern accent in his voice.
“Can you tell me what’s happening in Atlanta? If you know.” I ask and try not to wring my hands.
He narrows his eyes. “The same thing that’s happening all over.”
“Mass murder?” I meet his gaze.
He shakes his head. “Look, I’m your housekeeper , not a newspaper. If you want to know about the war, then you should speak to Valen.” He looks up at the sky, his nose wrinkling. “Ah, fuck.”
A big whoosh sends fallen leaves and bits of debris swirling around us.
Startled, I turn around and find Coal standing behind us, his wings spread wide.
“What?” David glares at him.
“You’re too close.” Coal grabs David’s arm and pulls him away from me.
I just stare.
“I wasn’t trying to?—”
“Even if you weren’t, you need to keep your fucking wits about you. If Valen thought for a second you were getting too cozy with his guest , there would be bloodshed.”
“Why are you even here?” David snaps back. “I don’t need you up my ass. I already have Valen wedged up there.”
I just watch, the dynamic becoming clearer the more they go back and forth. Coal is a father figure, and David is something of a bratty son. The resemblance is much more striking now that they’re standing face to face.
“—isn’t the best situation, and you have a habit of?—”
“Coal’s your father?” I blurt.
They both turn to me in unison, their shared expression confirming my suspicion.
“No.” Coal shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Yeah, that’s crazy. I’m not—I mean, no.” David makes a pfft noise.
They even lie the same.
“I need a word with David, if you don’t mind.” Coal glowers. “Don’t go far.”
“Where’s Valen?” I ask.
“Out.” Coal bites the word off, his fangs sharp against his bottom lip.
I don’t argue, not when I’ve already cheated death once this week. Wrapping my sweater around myself, I wander down the path between the wild roses, careful to avoid their thorns. Once I’m at the statue, I stop for a while. I can still hear the low growl of the argument going on behind me as I stare into the statue’s face. Valen’s mother. A human. I want to know her story, to hear more about her life than the horrors she endured at Gregor’s hands.
“I’m a human in their world, too,” I whisper to her, a chilly breeze blowing past and taking my voice with it.
Stepping out from beneath the tree, I walk around toward the overgrown arbor. Ahead, a gray monument glows pale in the moonlight. I don’t remember it being here before. When I’m close enough to read the inscription carved into the stone, my eyes water. Melody Okpara Dragonis, flame eternal . The monument is simple and beautiful, a curving swirl of marble that gives the impression of a dancing lick of flame.
“I miss you.” I sit on the grass and cross my legs in front of me. Wiping my eyes with my sleeve, I lean against the cold stone. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry about what happened.” I don’t want to think about it, to re-live it, but it happens anyway. My vision blurs with tears. “I don’t think I was very good to you. I was suspicious. Scared, too.” I rest my head against the marble. “And I saw you as the enemy. You weren’t.” I sniffle. “I know that now. You were nothing but kind. You didn’t deserve—” My voice breaks, and I have to sit in silence for a long while, the wind growing colder as I think a thousand different thoughts to Melody. I tell her how badly I wanted to save her, how angry I was that Valen didn’t. I still don’t understand how he could do nothing.
“You told me you know him differently.” I give up wiping my tears away. “You told me how he saved you from your father’s house. But I can’t read him. I don’t see what you see. He could’ve stopped Gregor, or at least tried. Why didn’t he? Then he saved my life, but he only did it for Gregor. Right?” My questions remain unanswered, her soft voice and clear eyes gone somewhere far beyond my reach. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
I sit for a long time. Until my hands are freezing, and I shiver with each small breeze.
A flap of wings overhead draws my attention, and I watch as David swoops down and lands about a dozen feet away.
“Let’s go.” His face is stony.
“Did you know her?” I ask.
He glances at the monument. “Yes.” He doesn’t say more, pointedly so.
I get up and brush myself off, then walk toward the elevator. He stays several steps behind.
“No more fraternizing with the prisoner?” I ask once we’re back inside.
He shrugs.
“What is so wrong with speaking to me? Valen isn’t here. I know he wants me to be miserable, but you don’t have to …” I groan in frustration. “He won’t know you dared to tell me about the weather or what’s happening out in the world.” I stare up at him.
He avoids my gaze, his lips pressed firmly together.
“Got it,” I say more snappily than I intended. I was already alone. Him refusing to speak to me doesn’t change anything. Maybe this is more of the Stockholm Syndrome, me trying to make nice with one of my captors.
Suddenly tired, I trudge to my room. The heaviness of Melody’s loss is still weighing on me as I curl up in my bed and write in my notebook. I’ve begun writing smaller, the pages growing thin toward the back. If I run out of room, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get another notebook. Given the way David reacted, I’d say chances are good I’ll go back to not seeing him again, so there’ll be no way to ask. Valen would laugh in my face if I asked him, I’m certain of that. That thought scrapes against the memory of him saving me. My fingertips brush across my ribs, the healed skin tingling at my touch.
Valen literally tore me apart and put me back together. He swore he wouldn’t allow me to die. I believe him. His will dominates everything, as if his blood runs through everyone and everything, compelling the world to bend to his demands. I don’t bend anymore. I think I must’ve broken when I lost my memory. One trauma too much, though I can’t imagine what horrors could top the things I’ve experienced here. The idea of anything worse than the ball turns my stomach.
Because of Valen’s will, my body lives on as I wither away inside. Detached, forlorn, and with no illusions of escape. Doomed right along with the rest of humanity but meeting my fate alone. Locked away like some sort of upside-down Rapunzel, I know my prince will never come. Perhaps it’s better that way, already buried here so I don’t have to watch the world go silent, the humanity I worked so hard to save wiped out. This is when Juno would give me a lecture about self-pity, how indulgent and foolish it is. But Juno’s not here.
It's just me.
Interred.
Alone.