6
Ifound myself in the greenhouse of the lab, seeking out Julius. He was standing at a long table, his attention focused on a small mini potted rosebush. Dressed in a white starched lab coat over a pair of crisply pressed trousers and button-down shirt, he was the very picture of ancient wisdom and time-worn grace.
It burned me to ask for his help, as he tended to chastise me like a child whenever he could point out a mistake, and I knew he would have more than a few things to say about our choice to take Alec to the parade. I prepared myself for his criticism: it was too soon, you are asking too much of the boy, he’s not a normal child—and the list of possibilities went on. I had to bear it, however, because Nicholas had grown strangely quiet since they arrived home, and Alec simply sat down in the parlor and asked Nic to play checkers, which they proceeded to do, as if nothing had happened.
Julius raised a brow as I approached.
“So the parade didn’t go as planned?” he commented casually. I sighed.
“How did you know?” I demanded. I knew all the family vehicles were packed with the latest surveillance technology, so it was never any secret where I was at any given moment. The events of the day were a different matter, and I didn’t want to think he’d had us followed under the guise of protecting us.
He uttered an arrogant grunt of a chuckle, causing me to cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.
“Nicholas called me. He said Alec is fine now, they’re playing checkers or some other mindless game,” he replied. “No need to get your hackles up, Soph,” he added. He returned his attention to the rosebush. With a careful squeeze, he used a pair of shears to snip off a faded red bud, letting it fall onto the table.
“Don’t you think you should examine him? Run some tests? You didn’t see him, Julius. He was sweating, and—and staring. Like he was possessed. It was terrifying,” I insisted.
“The memory of his own death came back. It’s a difficult thing for the mind—and the body—to process. I told Nicholas to bring him down if he was worried.”
Although my heart was heavy with concern for Nicholas’s brother, it was also strumming with curiosity about the nature of how immortality affected a child. If I could only understand it, perhaps I could help both Nicholas and Alec navigate moving forward.
”Julius,” I began, my voice betraying the knot of anxiety in my chest, ”how does it work, truly? The immortal body, I mean. Nicholas mentioned... Alec will change?”
Julius, his gaze penetrating, leaned back in his chair, a sigh escaping him. ”Yes. The immortal body is designed, for lack of a better word, to reach its peak of physiological health. For Alec, being so young when he died and was... turned, his body will now strive to age him to that point. It”s a rapid process initially but will slow as he nears his prime.”
The concept was both fascinating and terrifying. To think of Alec, trapped in time yet forced to sprint through years that should have been lived day by day, was an uneasy revelation to hear.
”And his mind?” I pressed, needing to understand the full scope of what awaited Alec.
Julius”s hesitation was slight, but I caught it, a fleeting shadow across his features. ”The mind... it”s a more complicated affair. We believe it adjusts, grows with the body, but there are... variables.”
Variables. The word hung between us, a veiled reference to the unknown, to potential madness. I knew what he was getting at. I did not wish to relieve any of the memories, but thoughts of my mother rushed in, nevertheless.
Drawing in a deep breath, I dared to broach the topic that had haunted my thoughts since I learned of my own lineage. ”You mean the Madness, don’t you? I know what became of my mother. I know how difficult it was for my father. Did she... did she suffer at the end?” The question was a whisper, the fear of knowing battling the need for truth.
Julius reached across the space between us, an uncharacteristically comforting response. His hand was a warm weight atop mine. ”Your mother made her choice, Sophia. She did not suffer. Connor made certain of it.”
My father. My heart clenched at the mention of his name, at the thought of the burden he carried, the duty bound to his very soul. ”He did it himself, didn’t he? He ended her suffering?” The words were barely audible, a confession of my deepest fear laid bare. I knew my father was party to the act, that my mother asked for a peaceful end. Yet in all the years afterward, I told myself it was Julius, or even Ronan who performed the final act. I supposed I always knew the truth, however. It was why I demanded it of Nicholas that day we fought, and why I knew he would never agree to it. Yes, he wanted me to be immortal, and if I was being honest with myself, I wished there was another way. But I knew, in my soul, that Nicholas would not have the strength to end my life if it was necessary—and in fact, he would likely kill anyone who tried to give me a peaceful end, even if I was stark raving consumed by the Madness.
”Yes,” Julius confirmed, his voice soft but unyielding. ”It is our way. Those we love, we protect, from life until death. Connor would not have allowed another to bear that responsibility.”
The knowledge was a cold comfort, a balm laced with poison. I knew then, with a clarity that seared, that if ever my time came, Nicholas would face the same harrowing choice. The thought was unbearable, a future in which the hands that held me with such tenderness would be tasked with ending my existence.
”I will never let that happen,” I vowed, the words a fierce whisper torn from the depths of my soul. ”Nicholas... I cannot ask that of him. I know you all want me to take the chance—but I cannot do it. I cannot put that burden on everyone I love.”
I watched as he clipped another bloom from the plant. It was a perfect, blood-red rose, healthy and fragrant. He handed it to me, and I took it. Julius’s gaze held mine, a mirror to the turmoil within me. ”Sophia, love is both our greatest strength and our most vulnerable weakness. To love an immortal, to be loved by one, is to walk a path lined with roses and thorns. But it is the struggle, the pain, that makes the beauty of the bloom so precious.”
His words were meant to offer solace, to wrap the harsh truths of our existence in the velvet of poetic wisdom. Yet, as I rose from my seat, the weight of our conversation pressing down upon me, I felt not comforted but resolved.
As I walked away, the artificial lights now seemed too bright, the world outside the windows a blur of colors too vibrant, too alive. My heart, heavy with fear for our shared future, beat a steady rhythm of defiance against the destiny that sought to claim us.
In that moment, a determination took root within me, a vow to forge my own path, to defy the conventions that bound our kind to suffering and sacrifice. Nicholas and I, our love was stronger than the ties of immortality—and we would find a way. We had to.
Julius and I joined the others at dinner some time later. My father looked curiously at us when we arrived and took our seats, but he did not question either of us, and for that, I was glad. I was scattered and unsettled, and even seeing Alec sitting so calmly next to Bash set me on edge. I wanted Alec to be all right, but I could not rid myself of the nagging thought that something was terribly wrong.
After the meal was finished and the others left the table, I started gathering plates to bring to the kitchen. Alec and Bash excused themselves and Nicholas lingered with me, echoing my task.
“Leonard retired early today. And the rest of the staff is off for the holiday,” I explained.
Nicholas gathered a bunch of silverware and placed it on top of a stack of plates, which he lifted as he glanced at me. “I figured as much,” he said.
We walked together to the kitchen, depositing the dishes into a deep sink to soak. I tried to focus on the mundane task, dipping each dish and swirling it, scrubbing it with a soapy sponge, then handing it to Nicholas, who obligingly took on the task of dish-drier. Once dried, he placed the items neatly in a stack on the butcher-block counter island, a methodical mindless task between us that did nothing to ease my mind. It was not like him to remain so silent, especially in light of all that had occurred that day, and by the time we had finished our task and I squeezed the sponge dry, I was more than ready to talk.
“Are you okay?” I asked, fumbling over how to broach the subject. He leaned over the counter, bracing his arms shoulder width apart. His eyes were cast downward, and I could see the unease etched into his features.
“Yeah. I’m fine. It’s Alec I’m worried about,” he admitted. I wiped my hands dry on a dishtowel and dropped it on the counter, hoisting myself up to sit on the counter to give him my full attention.
“Julius said he’d examine him,” I said.
“There’s nothing wrong with him. His memories are coming back. I knew he would remember it all at some point.” He looked sideways at me, his gaze flickering to mine, and he shifted, placing his hand on my thigh. “At first he seemed so—so cold. And angry. Not that I blame him. But now, now it’s like he flipped a switch, and it’s over, just like that. I don’t know if I should talk to him about, or just let it go.”
I could not shake the feeling that he was holding something back from me, but I pushed it aside, choosing to focus on what he wished to share with me.
“Let it be for now,” I said softly. I pressed my lips into his hair. “He’s here, he’s alive, and we’ll figure it all out in time.”
He moved closer then and I welcomed him, my heart thudding loudly when he wrapped his arms around me and dipped his head to my shoulder. I held him, wordless, and we sat there for a long time, clutching each other and letting the strain of the day drain away.