Chapter Six #2
I am not certain what to expect from this job. Of course I will do whatever it takes to ensure Grant’s safety. I know I serve the Hunt before all else and that to leave a high fae running around, particularly one who may have been involved in the deaths of several vampires, is incredibly dangerous.
Will I give up on searching for her if it means saving Grant?
My eyes slide over to him again.
I know the answer. I do not like it, but I know it, and I fear the Huntsman may know it, too.
Grant settles on some music from his phone, something that is all heavy guitar and mumbled lyrics, but it brings a smile to his face, so I do not mind it much. I mind it even less when he moves his head to the music, mouthing the words along silently.
He has been withdrawn these past few months. Since the argument I had with Asher and the others, but even more so since the high fae came through the veil. I do not know how to cross the distance that has grown between us. How to repair the trust I have broken.
Around an hour later, once we are out of the city, Grant frowns and turns the radio down. He twists to face me in his seat.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“I…” Grant pushes his dark hair back from his face, then huffs when it flops forward again.
“I’m from here. Margate. I know I should’ve told you sooner, but it’s not like Maurice could come, and I’m sure Jeremiah and Paxton could handle it, but we don’t have long until another vampire dies, right?
I mean, if it’s a pattern and it seems like it is, and I do want to help, Vlad, I can totally do it and—”
“Grant.”
He falls instantly silent, eyes big and round as he waits for my response. A faint tremor goes through his frame and I sigh.
“I know,” I say. It is a shame we are on the motorway as this would be an easier conversation if I could pull the car over. The next junction is ours. I can do it there.
“You know?” Grant shakes his head. “How…?”
“Jeremiah told me tonight. He was right to. It is something I needed to know before we arrived in the city.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”
“No, I—” I want to reach out, but I am unsure where my hand will land, where might be appropriate for this conversation. “I understand. We will be careful. Is it likely you will come across anyone you know?”
Grant sits back in his seat again. “I don’t know.”
I frown at that. I made it clear as soon as I turned him that it would be impossible for Grant to return home.
Of course, at that point, I assumed he would soon succumb to his bloodlust, making him dangerous to any humans he would encounter, and then he never did.
By the time I worked up the courage to present him to the Huntsman, he had been away for months with no sign, and then the Huntsman also said that to send him back would be dangerous because while he might not have the ravenous hunger of a fledgling, he had powers he might not be able to control.
Grant never asked again. He spoke of his family and friends at first, but even that faded over time. I have always assumed he has been using the internet to keep track of the people he once knew.
“You do not have them on social media? You have not spoken to anyone at all?”
“No,” Grant says, tone mulish. “You told me not to.”
“I-I never—”
“I know. I get it. I could’ve looked them up, I guess. I mean, I don’t think I’d be able to access all my old accounts, but I could use new ones… But I knew it’d be a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“If I saw things about them, I’d want to go see them.” Grant huffs. “We’re not exactly going far, Vlad. And what was I supposed to say, anyway? I spent months thinking about that, and by the time I realised, it had been like five years, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“You should have told me,” I say and wince at the accusatory tone in my voice. “I mean. I assumed you had made a decision about how you wished to handle everything. I did not know it troubled you.”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
I sigh. A sign flashes for our junction, and I pull into the correct lane.
“It is not… Jeremiah and Maurice and I are old.”
Grant scoffs. “I know.”
“When we were turned, things were different. I do not know the details of either of their situations, but it is my understanding that there were few people they wished to seek out once they had become vampires. Added to that, the fact that we all suffered our bloodlust for decades… By the time we had come out of the other side, I would wager that most everyone we had cared about had already gone.”
“Huh.” Grant ducks his head, peering up out of the windscreen as we pull off the motorway. “Makes sense.”
I drive some way in silence, and Grant only speaks again when I finally find a suitable place to pull over.
“What are you doing?”
I turn off the car engine and twist in my seat to face him. “I am sorry, Grant. I should have been a better sire to you. I should have seen you were suffering.”
He fidgets in his seat, gaze darting away from mine. “It’s not… That’s not your problem. I could’ve said something.”
“I should have known to ask.” I shake my head at his answering frown. “Regardless, we need to work together for this job. We must communicate. No matter what happens, we must tell each other everything.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Grant, I mean it.”
“I know.” He blows out a harsh breath. “I’m sorry, too. I know you’re looking out for me because you feel like you have to, usually. I get it. It’s different here.”
A frown tugs at my mouth, but I am not prepared to get into an argument by the side of the road. It is different here only because Grant is far more involved than I would like. I will always look out for him. It is less a desire and more a driving need.
“It is different,” I agree. I turn the car on again and pull back onto the road. “But I will always keep you safe.”
Grant smiles, faint but there, and turns the music up again.
We ride the rest of the way to Margate in silence.
Once we reach the city, I have Grant pull up the directions to the hotel on his phone and direct us through the narrow streets.
He does not appear to know the hotel itself, but from the way his gaze darts around and his sudden intakes of breath, things have changed far more than he anticipated.
He hops quickly out of the car once I have parked but does not stray far. When I climb out myself, Grant is deeply inhaling the brine-tinted night air, eyes closed, a small smile on his face.
My heart pangs. He should always look like this. For a second, he appears truly content in a way I do not think I have ever seen from him.
His eyes flutter open. He blushes when he catches me watching and ducks his head. “The bags.”
We get them, and I lead him to the hotel I managed to book us into this morning. If the receptionist is surprised to have people arriving so late, she does not show it. She hardly gives my ID a second glance and only Grant appears confused when she slides over one key card.
He says nothing until we step away from the desk. The young woman sits back down, quietly playing something on her phone.
“One room?” he murmurs.
“That is all that was left,” I reply.
The troubled frown does not leave his face, but he does not comment on it as we cross to the lift and get in. A couple follow us inside, so we are silent up to the second floor, where I step out first, Grant on my heels.
It is when he steps into the room that his expression changes from mistrust to outright irritation.
“Vlad.”
“Yes?” I push the door shut and filter my blessing out, warding and soundproofing our room. The wards are not heavy enough that they should be felt outside this building, but they will give me ample warning should someone come into the room.
“There’s one bed.”
I frown. I am still standing by the door.
The bathroom is to my right, and when I take another step inside, I can take in the rest of the room.
It is not large—to be expected, considering the price—and, Grant is correct, there is one double bed, as well as a desk attached to the wall, a TV, one uncomfortable-looking stool, and a small fridge tucked under the desk as I requested.
“Ah.”
“Ah?” Grant turns to me, eyebrows almost at his hairline. “Ah?”
“There is little to be done about it,” I reply. “We need to be as central as possible. All the other hotels I might have been able to book into are on the outskirts of the city.”
“You know we can run, like, really fast, right?”
“Can you ward yourself while you run?”
A muscle in Grant’s jaw ticks. “No.”
“Then we need to be close. I will keep this room warded. The club is only a few streets from here.”
“So we’re supposed to… sleep in this bed. Together. All day.”
“Yes.” I am not certain I manage to keep the irritation out of my voice.
I do not intend on us being here so long; if Jakob and his fae plan to sacrifice another vampire later this week, then we should be able to scupper their plans and find out the fae’s identity.
Once that is done, I can send Grant back home and reinforcements should arrive, in the form of Jeremiah and Paxton at the very least, and we can capture her and have her returned through the veil.
I open my mouth to say that, but Grant shakes his head, dropping his bag carelessly on the floor. “I just… I need a minute.”
He pushes past me and into the bathroom.
The lock closes with a quiet snick. I sigh and make my way further into the room, beginning to unpack my things.
There is a clothing rail too, though no drawers, so I hang up what I can and pile what I will need for the day next to the bed.
I take the side closest to the door. Should the worst happen, at least they will have to get through me before they reach Grant.
That done, I ensure we will not be disturbed in the morning by putting the sign on our door, then move to sit on the edge of the bed. Grant is still in the bathroom, unmoving. If I really reach for our bond, I can feel his complex tangle of emotions, but I draw back quickly.
It is no way to get to know a person, a bond like that.
I am no wolf. No fae. I could never imagine the sheer weight of responsibility that comes with knowing you are destined for another.
Becoming a vampire was a choice, if a limited one.
I could have said no. I could have fought.
I like to think I gave Grant that same choice.
A bond is a cage. I know what I feel for Grant. I know why I feel that way. But I will not leverage whatever our bond means—whatever the Huntsman appears to think it means—to pressure him into feeling even a fraction of what I feel for him. How could I love him and do that?
I sigh and remove my shoes, then lie back on the duvet and rest my hands on my stomach. After fifteen years, I am not certain he will ever love me back at all.
I am not certain I would deserve it if he did.