Twelve
Avalon
Varos offered her a change of clothes, then left her alone in the bathroom. She looked in the mirror, unable to like what she saw. She was much paler than before and though she had no physical scars left, she couldn’t help but feel violated. Troy’s letters still felt far too present on her chest. Her eyes were the thing she hated the most, red like the blood she craved so desperately.
Welcome to hell, she thought to herself, repeating the conversation she’d overheard in her mind.
Her throat burned. Her body didn’t feel like her own. It was like her mind had been separated and placed into the body of a stranger. Though her skin was smoother, the blood red tears were straight up horrendous. The rustling of fabric sounded, then a knock on the bedroom door.
“Avalon?” It was Varos.
“I’m here.” And have not killed half of Houston .
“Are you dressed?”
She pulled on the t-shirt and faced the door. “I am.”
The door crept open, and Varos hesitantly stepped into the room. “We thought you might want to see the rest of the house. ”
“Am I allowed to leave the room?”
“Of course.”
“But not the house?”
His jaw twitched. “We think it’s best if you remain here for now.”
“Because I could kill someone. Like I nearly did Lysander.”
Marcus appeared next to Varos with a grin. “Lysander is not that easy to kill.”
“So, he’s not human either?”
“No,” Marcus confirmed.
“What is he?”
“Let us show you the rest of the house, and when he returns, he can be the one to tell you,” Varos suggested.
She nodded and followed them out of the bedroom and past the small sitting room from earlier. The entry and living spaces were large, with floor-to-ceiling windows. The furniture was light and modern while the kitchen was darker, with black marble countertops and gold accents.
The garden outside was what caught her attention. It was massive and though it was dark out, she could see it clear as day.
“Why doesn’t the sun hurt you?” Then she realised, she was one of them now. “Us.”
“It’s a rumour our kind spread centuries ago to establish a false sense of security during the day,” Marcus explained.
“So, you can kill?” She wasn’t sure what she’d expected but complete silence wasn’t it. Her brows fused, and she studied them both. “You’ve killed before.” It wasn’t a question. Then her thoughts went back to Troy. “You killed him.”
“Avalon,” Varos started, taking a step closer to her.
Shaking her head, she kept her distance. “I don’t want to know.”
Her mind was tired. She was overwhelmed and all she wanted to do was sleep. She didn’t want to think, hear, or see anything. She just wanted to pass out and hoped that her dreams would take her far away from all of this. She turned on her heels and started walking back to her room.
“Where are you going?” Marcus asked, trailing behind her.
“I’m going to sleep.”
“Avalon, please hold up a moment.”
She took a deep breath in, trying to calm herself—it didn’t work. The lack of needing to breathe only made her situation more realistic.
“You don’t need sleep.”
“You can’t sleep,” Varos clarified.
She whirled around to face them. “What?”
“Vampires don’t sleep.”
She blinked, hoping they were joking.
“Our minds can only daydream, but we don’t sleep like you are used to.”
“But I feel tired.”
“You’re still adjusting to it. Your whole life you knew you would need sleep after a long day so it’s hard to not feel the need for it at first,” Varos explained.
What was she supposed to do to escape?
“I find it helpful to lay in bed and read while Varos enjoys listening to music.”
She could only stare at them. Once she’d worked her way through the nightmares, sleep had become her way of comforting herself. She’d loved to curl up and dive into her sleep, her dreams often freeing her from the stress of another day of survival.
“What kind of books do you like?” Varos asked. “I can call Lysander and see if he can bring some back.”
“I don’t want to read.” They both exchanged a worried look. “Can I go outside?”
“Of course.”
She felt as if the walls were caving in around her. Then she remembered that she was supposed to be dead anyway. Stepping between the two men, she walked into the cool night air. She could hear traffic from miles away as if it were right next to her, sirens screeching through the night while somewhere else, music played. She’d never heard the night so loud, but she listened closer in an attempt to distract herself. Not too far from the glass doors laid a rose garden and almost of their own will, her feet carried her towards it.
Her mind swirled as the soft scent of the roses wrapped around her like a cocoon.
Troy had come for her, ripping her away from the life she’d built herself. He’d made her pay for leaving him. The memory alone nearly paralysed her. She wasn’t sure how long he’d held her captive, but it had to have been days.
Every time she’d opened her eyes and seen his looming figure above her, she’d begged the darkness to take her once more. She didn’t even remember Varos and Marcus rescuing her. She only remembered passing out after…
She couldn’t even bring herself to imagine the things he’d done to her.
The next thing she knew, she was in Lysander’s arms, naked and covered in blood.
Had they? No, they wouldn’t have hurt her. They’d always looked out for her. They probably found her naked.
Her mind spun, and she let the noises around her ground her.
Her throat still ached, dry like the Sahara, but she didn’t want to drink anymore blood. Though Varos had told her it was donated, she still found it disturbing. The thought alone made her stomach churn.
Part of her still thought she was dreaming. But the woman in the mirror earlier was as real as the bloody tears she’d shed.
After all, she’d always thought they were angels. She’d seen their speed and their strength the night they met. She’d always known they weren’t what they seemed.
But she never thought she’d become one of them.