Chapter 55. William
william
The first thing William registers is Nate holding Lorena by her curls while a small fire burns out.
His body is drained and near collapse, yet he gathers every last vestige of strength he has left to attack—
Only something is wrong.
They are both looking at the floor. A girl with long black hair and dark lipstick has fallen, her head facing the wrong direction.
They killed Salma.
William lifts his gaze back to Nate and Lorena, who are now staring at him. The first thing he wants to do is carry his beloved to safety. Then he wants to kill Nate and Cisco.
Nate is saying something to William, but the latter isn’t listening. It feels like the world’s sound has shut off, and all he is aware of are Lorena’s eyes, their sunniness eclipsed by shadows, like the aftermath of a cataclysmic event.
He has never seen anything more thoroughly demolished.
So, instead of following his own heart, he heeds hers.
“Now?” he asks, and he realizes by the way the room grows quieter that Nate had still been speaking.
“Now,” she whispers back.
Cisco watches William’s approach in awe, like he is seeing a ghost. He takes a small step back, but William stops shy of him and drops to Salma’s side. He gently lifts her upper body, bringing her neck to his mouth.
“Leave her alone!” cries Trevor, struggling to get up, but it appears one of his legs is hurt.
Salma is still warm, so there is a chance this could work. William opens his mouth and stabs his fangs into her neck.
Tiffany cries out, but soon every sound disappears into the background as he drinks, the blood restoring the energy he depleted fighting Lenny and running here.
The disease that was killing Salma does not affect the quality of her blood, only gives it a corrosive taste—yet the more he drinks, the more he can detect its original flavors …
She is a Stoker.
The realization awes him as he pulls away. If he does this, she will be able to turn others.
He looks at Lorena, who stares at him as if he holds all her hope in his hands. And he knows he cannot let her down.
So he punctures his own wrist as hard as he can, until blood dribbles out. Then he holds the wound to Salma’s lips so it fills her mouth. He keeps doing this until he has given her enough blood, then he rests her down on the floor, and he rises.
William cannot be sure if it worked. Changing a human after their death is rare, and he does not know how much time has passed since Cisco cracked Salma’s neck. If it was not within two minutes, she has no chance of making it.
Cisco looks down at Salma’s body, too. When Nate moves closer, William is relieved to see that he has let Lorena go. William pulls her to his side, and she stares at Salma like she could will her back to life.
Zach pulls Tiffany up, and they both help Trevor, letting him rest his weight on their shoulders so he can hobble over. As all seven of them look down at Salma, an almost sacred hush fills the space.
The whole world seems to hang in the balance between life and death.
It should have happened by now. Even though it can take hours for a newborn vampire to awaken, there is one sign that indicates their corpse has immortalized. And it has not happened for Salma.
“Lorena,” William says mournfully. “I am sorry. I was too late—”
But a series of sounds like the cracking of knuckles begins to emanate from Salma’s body as her bones stretch out, adding more inches to her height.
Lorena looks at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “Does that mean—?”
“She is transitioning,” he says, hearing the relief in his own voice. “She will awaken in a few hours.”
Lorena falls to the floor, takes her friend’s cold hand in hers, and begins to sob. Trevor, Zach, and Tiffany just stare in utter shock, seeming unable to process any emotion yet.
William looks from Nate to Cisco, steeling himself for another fight.
Instead, Cisco falls to one knee and bows his head.
William turns to see how Nate is going to react to this betrayal, but the ponytailed vampire has also gone down on one knee.
“Go meet Fabiana and the others,” says William after a beat. “Bring them down here after we have left. And make sure someone has a thermos of blood for Salma.”
Nate and Cisco nod and march off.
William looks at Trevor next. “Thank you for protecting them.” Once their eyes meet, William inwardly compels him: Forget what happened in this room.
All you know is William led the vampires back into hibernation.
Salma went home early for medical attention, and you fell down the stairs trying to chase her to say goodbye. Leave here in twenty seconds.
William looks at Tiffany next. “Are you all right?”
“Th-thank you,” she whispers, and as soon as she looks at him, he sends a similar command into her mind.
When Zach meets his gaze, William compels him, too, adding one more thing: You were leaning out from a window to take a photo and dropped your camera. It broke.
The three humans leave without a word, Trevor’s friends carrying him out. William is now alone with Lorena and Salma’s transitioning form.
“I am sorry I did not make it back in time to stop Cisco,” he says, and Lorena wipes her eyes and looks up at him, then scans the rest of the space.
“Where’d everyone go?”
“Your friends will not remember what happened in this room. All they will know is that I never made it back.”
She frowns at him. “What will they think happened to Salma?”
“That is for her to decide.”
For everyone’s sake, William makes the choice not to tell anyone, not even Salma, that she is a Stoker.
Lorena sets down Salma’s hand and gets to her feet. “Was it Minaro?” she whispers. “Is she connected to Grandsire and the spell?”
“Formidable as your looks may be, it is your mind I will miss the most,” says William. Reading the despair in her eyes, he adds, “It is far from what I want to do, believe me. Yet I cannot see any other way forward.”
“I will always be a human first, and you will always be a vampire,” she says, quoting his own words back to him, and it saddens him to know that he was right. “Does this mean Salma has to hibernate, too?”
“I am sorry,” he says, and fresh tears spring from her eyes. So he moves closer, his voice a whisper. “If you ask me to turn you, I will do it.”
He sees her eyes grow wider, and he hears how she inhales deeper, as if her lungs have grown tenfold at just the thought of immortality.
He can practically see her thinking of how she would never again have to worry about sickness or aging or running out of time.
It is what crosses most mortals’ minds at the prospect of being turned.
She opens her mouth to answer, and for a moment, William thinks they might actually get their happy ending.
“Ask me again when you next wake up.”
Her face is slippery wet, and he kisses her like he means to steal every particle of oxygen from her lungs.
“What if you stayed?” she asks when she comes up for air. “If everyone else hibernates, won’t that be enough?”
He shakes his head. “The spell hinges on me.”
She nods, like she was expecting that, and he can sense the presence of the other vampires nearby. He would give anything to stay with her. If only the rest of the world did not exist, and they could live just for each other.
Yet he also knows Lore deserves better than him.
She deserves everything.
“It is time,” he says, taking in every detail of her face so he can dream of her forever.
More tears spring from her eyes, and she looks like she is struggling to speak. “H-how do you think our love story ranks among the greats?” she asks through a watery grin.
He gives her a sad smile. “Better than Romeo and Juliet.”
“And Jane and Rochester.”
“And Elizabeth and Darcy,” he says, his voice tender. “William and Lorena. Ours will be the best love story never told.”
“Lorena and William sounds better.”
“Always trying to get the last word.”
“I’ll never forget you.” Her voice breaks.
William wants to speak, but something is holding him back. There is a shift in his vision, as if the room were darkening—and then something streaks down his cheek.
Lorena’s eyes grow round with wonder, and she reaches out to touch him. When her fingers come away, they are streaked with blood.
“I didn’t know vampires could cry,” she says softly.
He looks into her sunny gaze as a twin tear rolls down his other cheek.
“Neither did I.”