Chapter 19 #2
The hike passed quickly. Salvatore became a silent presence by Arthur’s side, which was the most unusual thing about the experience.
When the path opened up to reveal the falls, Arthur took a long moment to admire them.
The sun was at the perfect angle, sending rainbows through the mist at their base, making the tumbling water sparkle like Salvatore on his way to a drag show as Miss Keto Bite.
“What are we doing here?” Arthur asked at last, as they stood watching the falls split into three near the bottom, giving them their trident shape, which looked rather more like a pitchfork now.
“They’ll be searching for you in town or back home. You hate hiking, so this is the last place people will think to look.” Salvatore sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m going to run back to the inn and get Rumble and some necessities.”
“What if they catch you?” A spark of anxiety flared in Arthur’s stomach.
“Contrary to popular belief, I can be quiet. And it’s not me they’ll be after. Don’t worry, my love. Wait here. Soak in all this dreadful nature. I’ll return before you know it.”
Sal pecked him on the cheek and turned to head down the trail.
He paused, though, one foot raised in a forward march, before doubling back to kiss Arthur properly.
Sal was a solid presence against Arthur’s chest, one hand clenched around the fabric of Arthur’s jacket, the other threaded through Arthur’s short hair.
The embrace was long enough to make Arthur’s heart hurt, but short enough that he knew there’d be another.
It was a promise, the sort that made Arthur as sick as a handful of wood sorrel.
When Sal returned, it would mean the end of their life here in Trident Falls.
“It’s going to be okay. You’ll see,” Sal said in a remarkably Arthur-ish manner when he pulled away, then vanished into the trees.
Arthur stared after him a moment, the wheels of his mind spinning without gaining traction.
Arthur had spent well over half his existence—and nearly all his undeath—traveling around with Salvatore.
He’d enjoyed it, but moving was more fun when it was a choice.
Salvatore would breeze into whatever chateau or villa or atmospheric, creaking old house they were staying in and start chattering on about some new locale where one of his many acquaintances was, and before Arthur knew it they’d be off.
Arthur often joked that he and Salvatore had spent decades on their honeymoon.
Trident Falls was supposed to be the end of the honeymoon and the beginning of their life together. A home. A business. A future. If only Arthur had been smarter, more observant, he could’ve solved George Roth’s murder before everything fell apart.
His hand twitched toward his pocket where his detective notebook rested, full of clues.
But there was no point. It was over. This wasn’t a clever book or TV show where the hero was as beefy as he was smart and had an arsenal of legal knowledge as powerful as his weapons.
Arthur didn’t have guns—of any variety—and he wasn’t sure it would help the situation if he did.
No, this was not the time to fight. It was the time to flee.
Arthur sat down on the overlook, dangling his legs over the ledge and letting the roar of the waterfall fill his brain.
This close to the water, the air was humid enough to make his clothes and skin feel damp, but for once he didn’t mind.
It made his outsides match his insides, he supposed, weighed down and ragged.
True to his word, Salvatore returned, several bags and no complaints in hand.
Salvatore was always the first to grumble about alleged blisters on his feet or a misty brow, so his silence spoke volumes about the seriousness of the situation.
Rumble poked her head from the fuchsia bag on Sal’s back.
Her ears were perked at attention, as if she could sense the axis of the world shifting.
“It’s okay, little one,” Arthur said, more for his own benefit than the cat’s, but still Rumble settled at his words. Arthur reached for the largest of the bags in Sal’s arms. “Here, let me help.”
“Careful. It’s heavy.”
Arthur nearly buckled under the weight. “What did you bring? Your entire shoe collection?”
“Ice packs.” Sal didn’t even acknowledge Arthur’s jab. “And all the blood we had on hand.”
Arthur frowned. “You packed blood?”
“I said I was getting necessities,” Sal huffed with an exaggerated air of offense that put Arthur a little at ease. “What did you think I was going to get?”
“Honestly? I’m surprised you didn’t try to bring the TV—or your stage makeup and costumes.”
“I can buy more.” He wore a smile that fit neither his face nor the mood.
“They were all from small businesses, anyway, so replacing my collection will be beneficial for them.” His words were too light or maybe not light enough.
“Besides, it won’t do us any good to leave a string of bodies in our wake.
We’ll need to feed, and I no longer have the immoral fortitude to take it without consent. ”
If Arthur hadn’t been undead, his heart rate would have skyrocketed. Salvatore was worried, which meant any other person would be howling with terror.
“What happened?” Arthur asked. “Did the sheriff give you trouble?”
As he spoke, Arthur opened the bags and rummaged through them. Camping gear, blood on ice, a few rolls of cash Arthur hadn’t seen before and probably didn’t want to know the provenance of. Food for Rumble, changes of clothes, their passports and undeath certificates. The deed to the Iris Inn.
This was really happening. They were leaving.
“No, didn’t see anyone.” Salvatore moved Rumble’s backpack to his front and shrugged on the large hiking pack.
“Why all this, then?” Arthur asked. “You’re suddenly taking this seriously, and you don’t take anything seriously.”
“Of course I’m taking this seriously! They want to arrest you!”
Arthur blinked. “Sal, you spent half a day in jail, and all you did was play the harmonica.”
“Oh, I knew I’d forgotten to pack something,” Salvatore said, his usual tone of levity finally breaking through. “Doesn’t matter, I can sing as we walk to the nearest bus stop. People never expect vampires to take the bus, you know.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
Salvatore huffed. “It’s different. They want to arrest you.
I can handle almost anything, you know. Been through it all at least once.
There’s not much they can do to me that I can’t shrug off…
except if they take you from me…” He shook his head, expression faltering.
“I don’t think I could bear it. So, we have to leave. End of story.”
End of story. Arthur would have been touched if he hadn’t been so sad. For Salvatore, losing Arthur was unthinkable. For Arthur, losing Trident Falls was, too. It really was the end of the story, and Arthur could imagine the epilogue now.
They’d move on. And Arthur would be fine.
Salvatore would thrive in Europe. He’d revel in the nightlife. And Arthur would be fine.
Trident Falls would finally succeed in staying normal. They’d run the others off one by one, Theodore and Lore and perhaps some yet unknown to him. And Arthur would be fine.
Fine was enough. It had to be.
“Come on. It’s a long walk, best get started. When night falls it’ll be a little easier at least.” Salvatore shot a distrustful glance at the sun, which negated their powers, limited though they were.
Arthur knew he should sling the huge backpack over his shoulders and fall into step beside Salvatore, entering the next stage of their lives together.
The cloud of this murder business would pass, and the FPI wouldn’t search for them forever.
In a few decades, they could even return to this continent if they wanted, as long as they kept their heads down.
As long as Arthur and Salvatore never set down roots. Never built a home.
He thought of Nora, and how they wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.
And Lore, who had never believed they were guilty.
Even Theodore, with his smug lawyer smarm and his bustling coffee shop.
All the potential friends he’d never fully get to know—welcoming neighbors who were outnumbered by those who didn’t want them around, filling a town that would continue to exist long after they left.
He thought of his little herb garden in the kitchen of the Iris Inn. The flower beds outside. Their tandem bike, abandoned at the dentist’s office.
Arthur didn’t lift the backpack. He couldn’t. He couldn’t walk away now.
“I’m not going,” Arthur said.
Salvatore paused in the middle of giving Rumble a treat to calm her down. “What?”
“I’m not leaving Trident Falls. Not like this.” Arthur took a deep, unnecessary breath. “I can’t run away.”
“Of course you can, you’re halfway there already—”
“This isn’t a joke, Sal.” Arthur stepped away from the backpack.
“You won’t catch me laughing.”
“I’m going back to town, and I’m going to solve this mystery. I’m going to clear my name.”
“Names are changeable!” Sal exclaimed. “For an entire year I went by Arsenio Primavera to avoid— You know what, not the point. What I’m saying is, Shakespeare was onto something with the whole ‘rose by any other name’ stuff.
You could be called Diarrhea Blastington and I would love you all the same. ”
“It isn’t just about my name, Sal. It’s about this town and what might become of it if we leave. Don’t you see? Someone killed the mayor and hurt Brody Young. If we don’t find out for sure, the real culprit will get away with it, or worse—keep killing.”
“Well, if you want to be dramatic about it—”
Arthur sighed, set his shoulders, and lifted his chin. “What do you want me to do, just let this town think vampires did this? That will only make it harder for our kind to move here, and to other places like it. So, I can’t give up. I won’t.”
Salvatore took a step back toward Arthur, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Not all mysteries can be solved. I know you want to—you’re definitely smart enough.” Sal’s voice got soft around the edges. “But we’re out of time.”
Arthur shook his head and backed out of Sal’s grip. “We’re immortal, Sal. There’s always more time. Even the FPI gives paranormals trials. I can find the truth, even if I have to do it from behind bars.”
Salvatore’s eyes grew hazy and he looked at the ground. “I can’t let you do this—I can’t just stand by and let this happen to you.”
“You don’t have to.” Arthur swallowed over a lump in his throat. “I know you want to leave.”
Salvatore’s gaze snapped up to Arthur, horror draped across his face. “Not without you!”
Arthur’s chest tightened, but so did his resolve. “Yes, without me. It’s not safe in this town for us. You don’t have to stay. You shouldn’t.”
“How can you say that? When it was me they suspected, you protected me. Now let me protect you. Let me do what I do best and whisk you away somewhere safe.”
“Don’t you get it? There isn’t anywhere safe. Not really. We can’t just keep running from problem to problem forever.”
“We most certainly can!”
Arthur almost laughed. “I have no doubt, my love, that you are most capable. But I…I don’t want that life.”
“And you think you’ll get the life you want behind bars?”
“I’ll never know if I don’t try.” Arthur didn’t know how to make Sal understand.
He’d spent hundreds of years drifting around the world like a dandelion seed that never quite found its way to the ground.
Maybe Sal had gone so long without a home, he’d forgotten what it could mean.
Arthur had never felt the reality of the difference in age between them so starkly.
“I won’t abandon you.” Salvatore grasped Arthur’s sleeve, but Arthur jerked away.
“Then don’t abandon me. Stay and help me find the killer.”
“And watch them arrest you? Prison breaks are harder to pull off than you might think. Just because I once escaped Alcatraz—”
“I don’t have time for your stories, Sal.
” Arthur took another step back. He couldn’t let himself be swayed, and Sal could be quite convincing.
“Either come with me or go. There’s nothing you can say to make me run away from this.
I’m not a coward.” Arthur put more bite into the last word than he intended.
Sal flinched. “Unlike me, you mean? It’s not cowardice to protect yourself or your loved ones. Trident Falls doesn’t matter, Arthur. You do.”
“Trident falls does matter. That’s what I’ve been telling you! I want a place to call home. I won’t settle for a life of running away every time things get difficult.”
“Coming with me is…settling?” Sal stared up at him with wide eyes. Unshed tears glimmered within.
“Yes.” Arthur never would’ve thought it possible, but it was true now.
He loved Sal, but he couldn’t flee with him.
“I can’t leave. I won’t leave. The guilt would destroy me if I did.
The killer might strike again, you know.
I could never live with myself if I let this go unsolved and someone else died because I was too afraid to try. ”
“If you feel that strongly.” Sal picked up the backpack with the blood supply and hoisted it over one shoulder.
Rumble meowed in protest. Then he took out a travel-size umbrella, this one patterned with cartoon breakfast foods in pastel colors, and popped it open in a startlingly aggressive manner. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Stay with me, Sal.”
“I told you, I won’t stand by and watch you get arrested. When you come to your senses, I’ll be at the bus stop, waiting for whichever one takes me to Portland.” He lifted his chin.
Arthur searched the eyes he’d gazed into for countless hours over so many nights, and swallowed past the lump in his throat. Sal really wasn’t going to help him. He’d be on his own. “When you come to your senses, wait for me at the inn.” He turned to go.
“Wait!” Sal said, and relief surged through Arthur. But Sal only shoved the open umbrella into his hand. “Don’t need you getting skin cancer on top of everything.”
Arthur took the umbrella. “Goodbye, Salvatore.” They were two words he’d once thought he’d never say and truly mean.
He didn’t wait for Salvatore’s response. He headed back down the trail, toward Trident Falls. Toward the sheriff who wanted to arrest him. Toward answers.
Toward home.