26. Arthur
Arthur
Eamon
New York has been a god damn motherfucking nightmare.
The city itself is beautiful. Truly a miracle of modern architecture and design.
But holy mother of God, everything has gone wrong since wegot here.
We got stuck at the same light for an hour and a half on our way to the hotel due to a malfunction causing an accident.
Then,our hotel room and the Vegas idiots had been double booked, forcing them togive us upgradesat their sister location across the street.
While I can't really complain about the size and view of our new suite or the other things they've offered to us while we're here, I absolutely can complainabout the factthat there's only a single roomseparatingus from Bel and her demons. And I can complainabout the factthat I didn't get a chance to vet this location and have Kyle scout ahead.
"Is your phone working?" Isla asks Bel. "Mine's being weird."
"Mine, too," Fritz answers.
I'm sure he's nice enough. He's gotta be for someone like Bel to put up with him, but every time he opens his mouth, I want to punch him in the face.
I glance down at my own mobile device, and sure enough, no fucking service.
How is it possible that in a city this large, withthismany cell towers, we couldpossiblylose service?SomethingI managed to set up on a literal island in the middle of the ocean.
"That's okay," Isla shrugs, determined to keepupa positive attitude, even when every-fucking-thing has gone awry since yesterday. "Everyone I need to reach is right here."
I might be imagining it, but I think her eyes land on me for a split second before darting away again when she says it.
Warmth bloomsin my chestat the idea that I might be someone she needs. I agreed not to tell anyonewe'resleeping together, but Cashanded Fritz a 50 from his wallet within 30 seconds of them finding us in the lobby last night. Fritz had chuckled, stuffing it into his pocket before the girlsseparatedfrom their squealing, sobbing embrace. He avoided eye contact with me during the entire exchange, only proving what the bet was.
Buthopefully,they're smart enough to let Isla be the one to tell Bel about it. I don't think Cas or Fritz would ruin it for them, but if they assume she already knows, it could sever their bond even further. With everything they've already been through, they need the normalcy of their friendship for as long as possible.
Don't say a fucking thing , Ihad warned both Caspian and Fritz.
Cas just nodded, not needing to be told.
Duh . Fritz rolled his eyes. Do you think I'm an idiot? Wait-no, don't answer that.
I do, in fact, think he's an idiot.
I think only an idiot would put Bel and Isla in the position he did rather than let them just be fucking mad at him for a little while.
"How can we order an uber if there's no cell service?"Isla asks, bringing me back to the present,turning her phone off to restart it.
"Taxi," I tell her. "We have to do it the old fashioned way."
Leading them out of our hotel, I flag down a cab. Fortunately, my size makesmeimpossible for them to miss. Unfortunately, it also makes it impossible forall ofus to fit into one car.
"Me and the girls will fit in one," Fritz offers, and the idea of him alone with them makes fear crawl under my skin, but I don't want to separate Bel and Isla any more than I have to.
Igroan,the incoming ridea tortureI might not survive from."Let Caspian go with them. You'll come with me." If something goes wrong, I trust Cas to keep them safe at any cost.I reallyjustcan't say the same about Fritz.
"Ooh, okay!" he beams, opening the door of the first taxi and shepherding the girls in, letting Cas crawl into the yellow car behind them. He shuts the door, wiggling his fingers to say goodbye.
The car takes off, and I flag down another, praying this car ride is a short one. We only need to go about three miles to get to Mike and Charlie's venue.
Fritz crawls into the next car, already speaking before we've even managed to start moving, "It's weird how everything today just keeps going wrong."
I mhmm , trying to ignore him. I figure things going wrong is just part of living in the fucking city.That's why I don't spend any more timethan necessarythis close to others.
"The phones. The car crash. The hotel." He listsall the things offon his fingers, "And now this."
"Now what?" I tell the driver our destination,butthen Fritz corrects me, telling the driver an entirely new address over 10 miles further into the city. The car starts rolling forward, andI wish I had a fucking drink, looking at him suspiciously. "Where are we going?"
"This!" he gestures one hand toward thedriveras if that was the answer. "The last minute change in venue because the original one was having technical issues. Thankfully, Mike and Charlie's building had a last-minute cancellation in their event space and gave it to them for half the price since it was already set up for a huge party."
Allofthose things happeningisa strange coincidence, and all the more reason to get through today and get Isla on the earliest flight back home safe and sound tomorrow and not take my eyes off of her any time between now and then.
How hard could it be? I never take my eyes off of her as it is. Can't, no matter how hard I try.Evenjustbeingapart from her for this car ride makes my skin crawl.It's sickening to think of just how important she's become. Since losing Arthur, I've beenreallygood at keeping my attachments to a minimum. That's the way I've liked it. Even those who've known me thelongest, namely Kyle, havejustbeen people I know. And I can't help but wonder why Isla is so different. It couldn't just be the proximity. It's not the first time I've lived closelywithanother mortal. I've had roommates and neighborsover the yearswhile I found my footing in this world. But other mortals just... aren't her.
Her fire,her drive, herfierce loyalty even in the face of certain death. Everything about her feelsmonumental—like the earthitselfmight stop revolving once she leaves it.
I know this thing we've been doing is temporary for her. A scratch to itch until shegoes backto having an abundance of humans to choose from. She could have anyone she wants,sowhy limit herself to someone who can never give her a future of any kind?
I shake the jealousy daring to niggle into my mind, clouding my enjoyment of the present with fears of the future.
Well, not the present present where Fritz won't shut up. But the present that I get to spend spoiling Isla with all the orgasms she can take.
Just as soon as we get this baby shower overwith.
Isla's mask started slipping an hour ago.
No one noticed but me. But Inoticeevery fucking thingshedoes, whether I like it or not.
After the sixth drink, I tried gently to get her to slow down, but she won't. Maybe she can't.
Instead, I played the doting, flirting boyfriend to keep her stable enough that no one noticed when she slipped or when her eyes started to water as she looked at all the unopened gifts around her.
But she's dancing dangerously close to the line of being sloppy, and I know she would never forgive herself if she ruined their big night.
With all the cordiality I could manage, I gave Charlie the excuse that always suits me. A work emergency.
They offered to let Isla stay the night with them, but with our early flight tomorrow and the security we'll be dealing with, it would be way more of a hassle than it's worth.
In the cab, Isla leans against me, but I don't think she even notices it's me; just that I'm the closest firm thing she can use to keep herself upright.
"Hey is she good, man?" The cab driver asks, suspicious.
With a heavy sigh, I run a hand through my hair. "She overindulged at a baby shower." I don't want to pry into this random dude's mind, but I can't run the risk of authorities being called. His suspicion is warranted, and I'm glad this stranger cares about his rider's safety. His thoughts remain wary, watching us in the mirror while deftly maneuvering between the cars.
"I... I won't puke in your car, dude." Isla slurs. "Promise."
His eyes dart to mine again, clearly noting the exasperation on my face. His worry only abates slightly before he looks atheragain.
"Ohhhhhh," she says, slapping my chest, "You're worried 'bout the big guy. He's good. He's my bodyguard. Big, safe, scary man, don't you worry."
Quiet laughter fills the space as the tension bleeds out of him, her drunken explanation giving him enough information to feel better.
And, as promised, she did not vomit in his car, or on the sidewalk, or in the hotel room.
Looking at the still-mussed sheets from earlier, I can't help but remember how utterly and thoroughly I destroyed both the room and Isla's makeup before we were supposed to leave this afternoon.
How had things gotten so bad since then? She seemed so excited to see her friends. She even beamed at the wonderful surrogate, Lacey, giving her a huge hug and preparing a gift just for her, separate from all the shit for the baby.
As soon as I release Isla, she sinks onto the floor at the foot of the bed,taking her heels offand stretching her legs out in front of her.
Not sure what else to do, I sit beside her, aching to take her hand in mine so she knows she's not alone. So she knows whatever she has to face is mine now, too.
Quiet sniffles and silent tears escape her, staring blankly ahead, the stream of mascara running down her cheek making my chest hurt for her.
We sit there for a long time, waiting for something. But what?
"I always wanted to be a mom," the confession finally slips out. "Wanted a whole buncha' kids."
The weight of that statement hits me like a train.Shewantsa normallife, and who wouldn't? She wants to get married to a good person and raise a family. I swallow down the pressure on my throat at the reminder I didn't need that for her, this thing we're doing was always just a distraction until she gets to live again. But this isn't about me. It's about her. And she's trusting me to be here for her. So I will, no matter how much it kills me.
"You still could be, Isla." I assure her, "You're still so young. You have your whole life ahead of you. I just... I just need more time to make it safe for you."
She pats my hand, a gesture that would be condescending if it wasn't so sloppy. "No. I can't."
"Why not?"
"This..." she sniffs, "This thing inside me."
"What thing?" I don't understand.
"The hunter. In my blood." She clarifies, "The blood that pumps through me, that would pump through my kids... best case scenario, they'll be violent little boys, tracked down by my family and eventually brainwashed. And what if I have a daughter? Will she be cursed to be hunted and then bred and bled like cattle her entire life?"
"Isla, it doesn't have to be like that-"
"Yes, it does. I've spent every day since I found out what I am thinking about it.Thinking about what kind of person would bring life into this world, knowingwhat kind of future they would have, just because they want kids.
"I want a normal life more than anything . I want to have kids that I can give a healthy, happy home. But I'm not capable of that. I can't — can't give possible children the freedom to just be kids, or just be people. They'll be hunted , Eamon. And I just... I can't do it. I won't. Kids deserve the love and endless possiblities that Charlie and Mike are offering their little girl. But I can't give someone that. Because of this stupid fucking curse in my body, the one thing I want would guarantee a miserable life for an innocent child whose only sin was being born to the wrong family."
My mind reels, trying to give her anything that mightbring her comfort, "You've got options. You could adopt."
"I could," she sighs. "But what life could I give them? What kind of life could I even give a partner? Hey, I love you so much I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, but ummm... my family is part of a massive cult that hunts down demons so we need to always be ready to drop everything and go into hiding. "
Her harsh tone, the dejected sarcasm leaves me cold. This is nowhere near the first time she's thought about this. About the reality of her future.
"The right person would do that for you," I gently knock my shoulder against hers. "They'd be willing to face down any foe, fight any demons. Literal or figurative."
She sniffles again, a sad smile raising her lips as she looks up at me, "The right person would, but I'd never let them. I'd never take the possibility of a happy, free future from anybody, much less the love of my life."
Before I can say anything else, she shakes her head, gaze falling back to the floorin front ofher, "It's alright, Eamon. Really. I made the decision months ago to abandon whatever dreams I might have had for my life."
"You deserve a good life. You deserve to have every piece of the life you want to live." It's so cruel and unjust that this world would deny this woman anything, much less the one thing she's dreamed of her whole life.
"I don't think deserve has anything to do with it." She shrugs, "It's just rotten luck."
"There has to be something... some way you can have a- a family," the word tastes horrible on my tongue. As pitiful as it makes me, I don't want her to move on from us. Don't want to watch her fall in love with someone else or grow old with them. Above all else, I don't think I could stomach a world she doesn't exist in.
She scoffs, "You should be happy about this. You won't have to worry about me and my fucking bloodline making more work for you."
I close my eyesfor a brief moment, knowing this sudden change in her demeanoris only going toget worse for me.Isla can't have a single moment of vulnerability without immediately turning it into a competition of who has the highest walls, the strongest fortress built around themselves. If I thought what we were doing was a game, I was dead wrong. It's a brutal, life-altering, fight-to-the-death battle. One that neither of us has any chance of winning.
"Isla, come on. You don't think I'd willingly, happily, ensure you and your possibly progeny are safe?" Okay, happily is a stretch. But I'd do it. I'd make damn sure she gets whatever life she wants to live.
A cruel, hateful laugh shakes out of the little woman beside me, "Give me a fucking break. We're not friends, Eamon." No, we are not. "And we're not dating. We're just fucking. So don't pretend like you give a shit about me and the things I want. You never have. You care about your goals, your fucking mission, and that's it. And if you get a few orgasms out of it along the way, hoorah for you."
"You can't honestly believe that." Her silence tells me that she does, in fact, believe it, no matter how blind she'd have to be to. But what can I say? I just told herall the thingsshe deserves, that I want her to live a mundane, normal life, even if that means I'm not part of it.
She stands on shaky legs,making her way intothe bathroom before I can stop her or argue. She turns on the shower, attempting to end the conversation and any hope I might have had of changing her mind.
We're not friends, no. And we're definitely not dating.
But there's no denying that we are connected. All of this is connected somehow. Andshehas to understand that I do care. I wish I didn't, of course. Caring about mortals has only ever ended inmewishing I could tear this beating heart from my chest, but that's the price we pay for loving others.
Before I can change my mind, I storm after her, ripping the door open to find her red-faced and furious in the foggy mirror.
"Get. Out." she bites.
"I wasn't finished talking to you," I try to rein in my anger. "If you're going to accuse me of being a heartless bastard, you'd better have the fucking courage to stick around and face my rebuttal."
Her jaw drops, rage and embarrassment filling her features as sheturns to faceme. She doesn't move or speak, just stares at me, daring me to continue.
I takeina heavy breath before letting it out, "I need to tell you about Arthur." It's well past time she finds out about how I came into this world, how my first years on this earth shaped everything I've done over the last century.Her brows furrow for a second before they smooth out, her faceablankslateas she gestures me to go on.
"Can we not do this in the bathroom, Isla?" I beg.
"Fine," she huffs, turning off the shower and storming past me back into the main area of our suite. "They're going to be pissed about the bathroom door, you know."
"I'll pay for it," The money is the least of my concerns right now. "Sit."
She toddles over to the couch, arms folded angrily across her chest as she waits for me to tell her the horrors I hoped to keep to myself for the rest of my life. But she's still not seeing the entire picture here, and I need her to understand not just the Sanctum, but me. For reasons I still don't understand, I need her to knowevery part ofwho I am and why.
Sitting next to her on the couch, I reach for one of the hands crammed against her body, needing thissmalltouch to ground me in the presentwhileI let my mind wander to the past, something I don't often allow anymore.
She lets me take it, relaxing into the plush blue velvet beneath her.
"What do you know about how my kind are made?"I ask, notsurewhere to start.
With a shrug, she answers, "Not much. Virgin blood spilled."
I nod slowly, wishing I had more answers for ourexactcreation, "You know there are three types of demons. Flesh-eating, soul-drainers, and blood-suckers, basically.
"Supposedly, we are the basest pieces of a terrible soul, banished to Vankhala to be torn into three pieces and repurposed, so to speak. That's why Cas and Fritz have their weird, ultra close connection, and they can both be bonded to Bel. They're two pieces of the same twisted soul."
"Okay," she says slowly, absorbing the information.
"When a virgins blood is spilled and the incantation spoken, one of us is pulled from Vankhala. The how and why is all speculation; whatever knowledge was passed down to equip us for our purpose in this world has long since died.
"But when I was summoned, itwas during a time of great unrest. Tensions were rising just before The Great War, and while its religious influences sometimes are glossed over, many extremist groups believed the violence would be necessary for a cleansing of the world of sorts. Violence on such a scale that there would never need to be war again, and God would reveal himself to those who helped usher in this new world.
"Well, in certain parts of Canada, they told stories of great, monstrous warriors who would protect their children from the possibility of this war spilling onto their soil. And I mean... these were just farmers trying to live their lives, suddenly having to worry about being attacked because of the growing agricultural sect where they live. The only real weapons they had were the ones they needed to put down animals. They had no means to protect themselves."
"So they summoned demons?" Isla's skepticism leaks through as she asks.
And I can't really blame her. It seems to her like an extreme measure to take to protect farmland, but she wasn't thereand can'tunderstand a world that doesn't have the kind of communication technology she has now. Can't understand the isolation and fear that comes from living in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a newspaper to inform your opinions.
"Yes. Because they felt they had no other option. They wanted to keep their families safe, by any means necessary. So when someone came through the town with tales of these giant monsters that swore fealty to the innocents blood that they spill, they figured it was just a myth, but what did they have to lose?"
And here's the part where it gets sticky, the pieces of my story I try to scrub from my mind with every waking moment.
"My—" I clear my throat, "My family had just lost a daughter to the fever, their son, Arthur, was a miracle and did not succumb to it. But Roy and Evelyn... they were so deep in their grief, so terrified of losing another child, they were desperate. So they paid the passing salesman his exorbitant fee to get the spell."
Isla stares at the ground in front of her, thankfully not looking at me, because Idon't think I could continue this story if those big, stormy green eyes filled with emotion were facing me just now. I start drawing little circles on the palm of her hand, keeping my body occupied so I don't get up and start pacing. Or run awaycompletely.
"The latin apparently gave them a rough time," I chuckle, rememberingthe wayEvelyn told me the story over tea while Arthur and Roy slept. "Took a couple pricks of the finger. They used a sewing needle, pricking tiny Arthurs little finger. After the first try, they almost gave up, deciding they had been tricked by the traveling salesman. But on the second one, they had more success, obviously."
A choking, terrible laugh rips from my throat, remembering the mortals I loved so much, "They were horrified when I showed up. Roy and Evelyn screamed so loudly, I still hear it ringing in my ears sometimes when I dream, and I wake up thinking the last century was a nightmare.
"I was discombobulated, of course. No clue where or what or when I was, only remembering the cold nothing of Vankhala. But then there was Arthur. He was two years old, trying to escape his mothers arms and staring up at me with the sweetest little cherub face. Big brown eyes, still watery from the pain of the needle, dirt smudged across his face and clothes. I loved that little beast instantly."
My vision blurs, and I use my free hand to smear it away.
"Did you know two year olds have a really hard time making the D sound?" I try to fight the emotion clouding my mind with the humorous parts of my story.
Isla must know how this story ends or suspect it, at least. Her silence speaks volumes, not letting me shy away from how scared I am of the end of this confession.
"That's how I got my name. Arthur shouting it at me, trying to say demon while he chased after me. I spent six months with my family. Six months of learning to speak, helping Roy run the farm, posing as his brother who needed a job and place to live. I was an upstanding member of the community.
"And then the salesman came back to collect his prize."
Isla freezes. "What?"
"The salesman, as it turns out, was a member of the Sanctus Sculitis. Peddling the same story in each town, using innocent peoples fear and grief against them. Their objective was to summon as many demons as possible, to gain bodies for the upcoming war that could be controlled by their human hosts."
"So, what, they kidnapped Arthur?"
Flashes of Roy and Evelyn's bodies sprawled across the wooden floor barrage my mind. Evelyn's hand still outstretched towards what I can only assume was Arthur. Tiny little bloody footprints and handprints across the floor and her soft face. Roy was nearly unrecognizable. Knowing him, he would have fought tooth and nail until the bitter end to protect his family.
But I'll spare Isla those details. She doesn't need to be haunted by the ugliest parts of the war I've waged the last century, just the parts that matter.
I nod, "They killed his parents and took him."
"No," the word comes out pained, her deep well of empathy opening up and swallowing me whole.
"I was still just a cocky little fuck back then. Arrogant and full of fury. So I tracked them to their hideout before they could come find me."
"How did you track them?" The smell of Evelyn's blood on Arthur's skin and clothes.
Instead of giving her that answer, I tap on my nose, hoping she'll fill in the blanks enough. "I thought I was invincible. That, paired with the righteous vengeance pumping through my body, made me averydangerous, reckless creature.
"I slaughtered every man in their camp. Tore their limbs off, shredded their internal organs while their hearts continued to beat, ripped through their throats with my teeth. Every manor of violent death you think I might be capable of, double the depravity, and you'll have a picture of what I looked like while I massacred their battalion."
"And Arthur?" she asks the question. The point of this whole fucking thing. What happened to Arthur?
"I felt them cleave his soul from this earth before I could reach him," tears flow freely down my face as I picture the way I found him. A picture I would never subject another to even hear about, much less see. "Their leader, the pretend salesman, locked away in this tower, watched the damage I did. He said I was too wild to be controlled, that me and my host needed to be put down for the safety of their cause. Then I tore his face from his skull and pinned it to the outside of his cabin with a knife."
Sniffles and small sobs draw my attention to Isla, trying so hard to keep quiet and not disrupt me. Her free hand covers her face, hiding her heartbreak.
"Hey," I try to pull her closer. Her tears are never what I'm after, and I hate that she's crying over something that happened so long ago.
"I'm so sorry," she tells me. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. Just ignore me."
I drag her into my lap, needing her as close to me as physically possible, smoothing down her hair as we both silently let tears fall. I rest my cheek on her forehead, soaking in all the blissful things around me, not wanting to fall too far into the past when the present means so much to me.
A sorrowful silence surrounds us, and I realize just how badly I've needed another person to share this with me. Grief and sorrow are so heavy; they've been dragging me down for far too long. Having another person to help carry it, to willingly sit with me and hold it, is a blessing I never thought I'd be worthy of.
"Thank you," I tell her.
She looks up at me, red-rimmed eyes confused as mascaracontinues torun down her beautiful cheeks. "For what?"
I shrug because I don'treallyknow what I'm thanking her for. I want to thank her just for existing, for living during a time that I get to live and get to know her. But those kinds of platitudes will surely scare her away, so I give her the closest answer I can, "For listening. For caring, even though it happened over a century ago and has nothing to do with you."
Her lower lip wobbles, the emotion keeping her from saying anything else before she nuzzles back into my chest, clinging to me like she could squeeze all the pain out of my chest if she just held me tightly enough.
"Let's go to bed," I suggest, needing this night to end so we can start fresh tomorrow, safely on our way back home.
Her body freezesjust for a secondbefore she relaxes and nods, extracting herself from my hold. Without preamble, she throws her dress on the floor, climbing under the covers. I follow closely behind, wrapping myself around her, bathingmyselfin her scent to keep the nightmares at bay.
The exhaustion starts to take over, but I don't fall asleep until Isla asks one last question. One I know pained her, yet she needed the closure asbadlyas I didat the time.
"Did you at least get to bury him?"
A sad smile pulls at my lips. "At the farm with his parents. I couldn't let him spend eternity alone."