Chapter 21
Raven trembled on each exhale, clinging to Maxim as if he were the cold and Raven a sliver of ice, afraid of melting. Maxim held him loosely, stroking his back, hoping that would ease the tremors.
This must’ve been a lot. He didn’t drink as much as most fledges would, and it’s not just the change that has him in its grip. He has to be exhausted.
Raven wasn’t giving any indication that he was ready to move.
His voice had failed him a while ago, his throat raw from the keening and only allowing him a low whine.
Maxim wasn’t sure what was best at this stage.
It had been different for him. He’d been younger, a child.
He’d thought his guilt was in survival. Yet the vampire who was to turn him a fledge, who’d raised him first, had killed the lot of them, those other vampires who’d taken.
Once Maxim was well enough to walk again, his maker-to-be had taken him to where she’d buried his family.
Maxim paid attention to controlling his breathing, forcing it to remain slow, steady.
He’d still been feverish at the time, but the memory of the mounds of turned earth in the meadow Brea had chosen remained with him to this day.
He remembered everything: the wind, the smell of the blanket he’d been wrapped in—smoke and grass—the incredibly blue sky with the clouds bright against it, fluffy as the bread dough his mother used to make. He didn’t remember his mother’s face.
Maxim focused on the corner of the bookshelf that he could see over Raven’s shoulder. He focused on his breathing. He focused on Raven’s scent: the fear, the dog, and the scents from the park, soap underneath all of that. He knew Raven would be more comfortable resting in his own bed.
“Raven, I’m going to pick you up and carry you downstairs. Just hold on to me.”
Maxim waited, but there was no reaction.
He hadn’t expected one, wasn’t even sure Raven could hear him right now.
He picked him up. Raven was light, just like when Maxim had first found him—when he had taken him from his tormentor with nothing better to offer than his own blood.
Raven’s hold was strong though. On the stairs, he didn’t let go, and even when Maxim put him on the guest bed, he didn’t budge.
Maxim had to move Raven’s arms, keeping his touch as soft as he could.
In the process, their eyes met. Raven’s were bloodshot, almost red, and it made his irises stand out brighter, at least the thin ring of blue that remained, his panic and fear still too great to let the pupil shrink back to normal.
“We’re in your room. You must be tired. You can get some rest here. Just lie back and close your eyes.”
Lie back. Those were the words. Raven’s eyes widened, and a whimper escaped his raw throat. Maxim knew then that they’d said those words to him, and he knew Raven was in that memory, couldn’t escape it.
“Raven, you’re safe here. It’s just you and me here, no one else can come here, no one can hurt you. You are safe. This space is safe, and there is no one here but you and me. Shh. Shh.”
It took a few minutes for him to calm down. His gaze cleared, but exhaustion had settled on his face, hollowing his cheeks and making his skin look sickly pale.
Maxim stroked Raven’s back. “You can rest here. It’s safe.”
Raven glanced around the room. Maxim didn’t know what he’d expected. Another room? Had he thought Maxim might take him to his own bedroom? His thoughts have to be mixed up and strange right now, but he doesn’t fear me anymore, I think.
“Will I…stay here?”
The question was followed by a dry cough. Maxim knew that blood would be good for him, but he didn’t want to leave Raven alone to get it, not now.
“For this very moment, yes. Until you understand better how to take care of yourself as a vampire. Then after that, you can go where you wish, or you can continue to stay here. This can be your home if you want it to be.”
“Home…”
The word came out as a whisper. Maxim wasn’t sure whether it was a question, but he nodded. Raven considered him but didn’t speak. He eventually sagged back against the bed, which Bryan had made at some point, silent in his care as was the wont of any Lar.
Maxim didn’t hurry Raven along, letting him find his own pace. All he did was pull the comforter over Raven once he was supine. Then he stood.
Raven made another one of those heart-wrenching noises.
“No, please stay. Please.”
Big blue eyes. Pleading. There was so much fear hidden behind them.
Maxim smiled and slid to the ground, folding his legs into a lotus position as if he were about to meditate. “Of course. I’ll be right here when you wake. I won’t move, and I’ll watch over you.”
Raven’s features relaxed, and he sighed. He didn’t close his eyes right away—understandable—but the exhaustion was too great for him to resist much longer. Maxim watched Raven’s eyelids flicker, pop open, flicker again, then remain closed.
Maxim relaxed as well. He would not move from this spot until Raven woke.
Raven’s sleep was fitful. Maxim would whisper to him when it looked as if nightmares were chasing him, and that calmed him down after a while.
New fledges could sleep for long stretches, but it was rare, and all of them were naturally nocturnal. As such, Raven started drifting into wakefulness not too long after night fell. He’d rested for perhaps three hours, all told.
Maxim remained in his position, staying calm when Raven’s eyes fell on him.
“You’re still here.”
“I said that I would be. Are you feeling better?”
“I…I think so.”
What a relief. “You can rest more if you prefer, but I’d like to get you some food. Though if you feel up to moving, we can go downstairs to the restaurant again.”
Raven pulled the comforter up to his chin. “Weird calling it a restaurant when it’s just blood.”
“Ah, but a restaurant is just a place to restore you, and blood certainly does that, wouldn’t you agree?”
Maxim thought beyond the etymology only once he’d said the words, and he could’ve slapped himself for it. Restore him as if he is cracked or broken. Damn me. I haven’t been this thoughtless in decades.
Raven, though, chuckled. “I never thought about where the word came from. So many words, and you never wonder how they got where they are.”
“Mostly people talking, one would assume.”
“Yeah…”
Raven pulled the comforter higher and looked off into the distance. Maxim relaxed his shoulders.
“How about I wait outside? We can go down together when you’re ready.”
Raven nodded once, then looked at Maxim. “That… Upstairs, the notebook.”
“Hmm?”
Raven blushed. It was faint now that he was a vampire, but Maxim was watching closely.
“Can I keep it?”
“Of course. I’ll fetch it for you. But you must remember about the pens.”
“What about the pens?”
Maxim clicked his tongue. “Raven, this is a serious matter, and you cannot forget. Heath must never know that I don’t lose any pens, ever, do you understand?”
“Oh. That. Yes.”
“Very well, then. Take your time.”
Maxim stood and turned, and he was almost out the door when Raven whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”
He’d spoken quietly, just loud enough to be overheard, by another vampire. But he doesn’t really understand the way our acute senses work yet. Maxim walked backward and sat at the foot of the bed, crossed his legs.
“You’re going to do whatever you want to do.”
Raven hesitated, moving under the comforter as if he were curling into a ball.
“I mean…there has to be something that comes next. When I realized I wanted to get away from home, I went to school, and I studied. I worked really hard for the scholarship. I know what I have to do to keep up my grades, but I don’t know what I have to do now.”
Maxim lowered his head. It had been like that for him. Yes, he’d had to heal physically, but that had required little in terms of doing, and once he had healed, there had been nothing to move toward, not a single thing.
Maxim licked his lips. “You get through today, then the next day, and so forth. You feed yourself even when you’re not hungry, and you get dressed even if you don’t want to get out of bed.
What was done to you cannot be undone, but there is no reason why it should rule your every moment.
It’s hard at the beginning. It gets better down the line. ”
“Did I…” Raven was silent for so long that Maxim thought he was done talking, but then, on a whisper, he asked the question. “What did I do that made him take me?”
“The answer is twofold. One part is that you were interested in Sherlock Holmes, but you must’ve guessed that.
The other part is that it wasn’t really you.
You ticked certain boxes for him, but it was never about you—the person you are, what formed you, what potential sleeps inside your heart, about the thoughts only you can think. Don’t give him that much credit.”
Raven said nothing, but it looked to Maxim as if he were thinking this through, putting reality in place where fear had crept in. Maxim gave it several more minutes before he headed out of the room again.
“I’ll wait for you. Whenever you’re ready, Raven,” he said, one hand on the doorjamb.
He brought the notebook down from the office, the stairs feeling better than sitting, and while he was at it, he picked out several of the very nice gel pens for Raven.
Downstairs, he put all of that on the coffee table and paced, waiting for any sound from Raven’s room.
It took a while, but then he heard Raven get out of bed, and it sounded as if he were dressing in fresh clothes. Maxim allowed himself a smile.