Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Rome.
The word circles through my mind like a vulture, patient and relentless. I'm sitting in Maximus's study, trying to reach for something that keeps slipping away.
Rome. Rome. Rome.
What happened in Rome?
I close my eyes and push inward, searching for the memory. It has to be there. Somewhere in the dark corners of my mind, locked away where I can't reach it.
Nothing. Just darkness, and the frustrating sense of something hovering just beyond my grasp.
"Anything?"
Maximus's voice is gentle. He's been watching me for the past hour, patient as only an immortal can be. Not pushing. Just present.
"Shadows." I open my eyes and rub my temples. "When I focus on the word, I get flashes. Light on water. The smell of old stone. Fear." I shake my head. "Nothing concrete."
He moves from his chair to kneel in front of me, taking my hands in his. "Memory manipulation is complex. The harder you push, the more the barriers resist. It's designed that way."
"Then how do I break through?"
"Time. Triggers. Sometimes blood from the maker can unlock what they sealed." His jaw tightens. "Though that would require access to Valentina."
"Which we might have tomorrow night."
"Which we might have," he agrees. "If we go."
If. Such a small word to carry so much weight.
I look down at our joined hands. His are larger than mine, scarred in places from centuries of violence. Strong hands. Capable hands.
"What if Rome is the reason I'm here?" I ask quietly.
"Then we'll deal with it."
"How can you be so calm about this?"
"Because I've survived centuries by preparing for the worst while hoping for the best." He squeezes my hands. "And because I refuse to let fear of what might be poison what actually is."
"What actually is?"
"You. Me. This." He brings my hands to his lips, kisses my knuckles.
I want to believe him. I do believe him, mostly. But ever since I’ve seen the word Rome, the shadows in my mind whisper doubts.
"I want to try again," I say. "Help me try again."
"How?"
"You said blood can unlock memories. Not maker blood, but you've drunk from me..." I trail off, not sure where the instinct is coming from. "Maybe if you bite me again while I focus, the shared blood could... I don't know. Break through the barriers."
He's quiet for a moment, considering. "It's possible. Shared blood can create echoes between vampires. But it might also be painful. Forcing locked memories open isn't gentle."
"I don't need gentle. I need answers."
He studies my face, looking for doubt. He won't find any. Whatever's hidden in my mind, I need to know. Even if it hurts.
"Alright." He rises, drawing me up with him. "Come here."
He guides me to the leather couch by the fire, positions me so I'm sitting with my back against his chest. His arms wrap around me, holding me secure. Safe.
"Focus on Rome," he murmurs against my ear. "Let the word fill your mind. Don't push, just hold it there."
I close my eyes. Rome. I think of the word, the shape of it, the sound. Let it expand until it's all I can see in the darkness behind my eyelids.
His lips brush my throat, feather-light. "Now let me in."
His fangs pierce my skin.
The pain is brief, familiar now, immediately replaced by the rush of pleasure that comes with being fed upon by someone you love. I feel the pull of blood leaving my body, feel the intimacy of the connection between us.
And then he goes rigid against me.
His arms lock around me, muscles tensing. A sound escapes him, something between a gasp and a growl. He's seeing something. Through my blood, through whatever connection we share, he's seeing something that isn't in this room.
I wait, heart pounding, as he drinks. His body shudders once. Twice. Then he tears himself away from my throat, sealing the wound with a swipe of his tongue, but his hands are shaking.
"What?" I turn to face him, gripping his arms. "What did you see?"
His eyes are wild. Unfocused. Like he's still half in whatever vision the blood showed him. "Rome," he says hoarsely. "You were in Rome."
The word hits me like a physical blow. Flash. Cobblestones. Rain. Running.
"I saw you running," he continues, voice rough. "Through streets. Old stone. Someone chasing you…"
Flash. My feet slapping against stone, lungs burning. Behind me, footsteps. Faster than mine. Gaining.
"…and then a room. Small, dark. You were bleeding. Someone standing over you…"
Flash. The smell of blood, my blood. A woman's voice, speaking words I can't quite hear. My body won't move. I try to scream, but nothing comes out.
"Valentina," I whisper. The fragments are surfacing now, his words cracking open the locks she placed in my mind. "She was there. She turned me there, not here."
"There was pain." His jaw tightens. "So much pain. I felt it through your blood. What she did to you." He stops, swallows hard. "She was laughing."
Flash. My body remaking itself, dying, and being reborn. The taste of blood in my mouth, not mine. Hers. Valentina's. She's laughing.
I'm shaking now. Can't seem to stop. "What else?"
He hesitates. Whatever he saw next is worse.
"Tell me."
"Daylight," he says slowly. "You were standing in daylight. Through a window. The sun was on your skin, and you weren't burning."
Flash. Light pouring through glass. Warmth on my face. Wrong, daylight is death now. But I'm standing in it, and it doesn't burn.
"That's not possible," I breathe.
"There was a man watching you." Maximus's voice is strained. "He was in the sunlight too."
Flash. A man across the room. I know him. I know his face. Cruel smile, eyes that have seen centuries.
"Konstantin," I say. The name tastes like poison.
Maximus nods grimly. "Konstantin."
For a long moment, neither of us speaks.
Maximus's hands are still shaking.
"The pain," he says finally, his voice raw. "What she did to you, I felt it. Every moment of it." His jaw works. "I've been tortured, Celeste. I know what agony feels like. But experiencing yours…" He breaks off, and I see something in his eyes I've never seen before.
Helpless rage.
"It's over now," I say, though we both know that's not entirely true.
"It's not over. It's in you. What they did, whatever they did, it's still there.
Those memories, that pain, locked away inside you where you couldn't even access it.
" His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones.
"You've been carrying this alone. For months. Not even knowing you were carrying it."
"I didn't know."
"I know. That makes it worse." He pulls me against his chest, arms wrapping around me so tight it would hurt if I were still human. "I want to kill her. Valentina. I want to tear her apart for what she did to you."
I press my face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. "You might get your chance tomorrow."
"It won't be enough. A thousand deaths wouldn't be enough." His hand cradles the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. "I saw you running. Terrified. And I couldn't do anything. I couldn't reach you, couldn't help you, I could only watch."
"That wasn't real. It was a memory."
"It felt real." His voice cracks on the word. "Feeling your fear, your pain, and being powerless to stop it. That's a particular kind of hell."
I pull back enough to look at him. His eyes are bright with emotion, ancient eyes that have seen centuries, now stripped raw by what he witnessed in my blood.
"Now you know," I say quietly. "Everything she did to me. Everything I couldn't remember."
"Not everything. There are still gaps. Shadows." His thumb traces my lower lip. "But I know enough. I know what she took from you. And I know…" He swallows hard. "I know you survived it. That you're still here, still fighting, still you despite what they tried to make you."
"You sound surprised."
"I'm in awe." He says it simply, without embellishment. "What you endured would have broken most vampires. It nearly broke you, I felt that too, in the blood. The moment where you almost gave up. And then you didn't."
I hadn't known that. Hadn't remembered that there was a moment where I'd wanted to let go, to stop fighting. The knowledge sits heavy in my chest.
"I don't remember deciding to keep fighting."
"Your body does. Your blood does." He kisses my forehead, lingering there. "You chose to survive, Celeste. Even when you didn't know what you were surviving for. That's who you are."
I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me. Being known like this, truly known, down to the blood and bone and buried memories, should feel like violation. Like exposure. Instead, it feels like relief. Like setting down a weight I didn't know I was carrying.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"For what?"
"For seeing it. For carrying it with me now." I look up at him. "I'm not alone in it anymore."
His expression shifts, something fierce and tender all at once. "You're never alone. Not anymore. Whatever else they locked in your mind, whatever else we discover, we face it together. Understood?"
"Understood."
He kisses me then, soft and slow. A seal on a promise. When he pulls back, the trembling in his hands has stilled.
But his expression remains troubled.
"The daylight," he says quietly. "That's what I can't stop thinking about. You and Konstantin, standing in sunlight. Not burning."
"It shouldn't be possible."
"No. It shouldn't." He's quiet for a moment, and I can see him turning something over in his mind.
"There are legends," he says slowly. "Old stories. About vampires who found ways to walk in sunlight. The methods were always considered too dangerous, too costly. Most dismissed them as myths."
"But you don't think they're myths."