Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
FLORENCE
‘We are not going over that wall,’ Quinn says, a deep furrow appearing between his brows. I’m enjoying the role reversal here. Usually I’m the sensible one in any pair, and I get the impression Quinn is normally the joker, but now we’re under the stars, all bets are off.
‘You’ll clear that easily.’ I shrug. ‘It’s only just taller than you.’ I slap a hand on the pale stone wall as if to illustrate my point. ‘Here, I’ll give you a leg up.’
I link my hands and hold the makeshift step out to him, but he just looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
‘You’ll never be able to hold my weight,’ he says, concern lacing his words like he really believes that’s true. And to be fair, it does look like it could be. He’s a head taller than me and lean, though nowhere near skinny. But I have the supernatural on my side.
‘Cute,’ I say, nodding to my clasped hands. He eyes me sceptically, but after a moment he shakes his head and steps into them. I take the opportunity to launch him over the wall before he chickens out and have to bite my lip to keep from giggling at the way he squeals as he flies skywards.
‘A bit of warning would have been nice,’ he yells from the other side. ‘Now how are you going to—’
But before he can even get the words out, I’m on his side of the wall, brushing limestone dust off my coat and grinning broadly.
‘Ok, I’m not going to lie,’ he says, relaxing a little. ‘That was pretty hot.’
I curtsy, which makes him laugh, and then I grab his arm and start marching us both towards the abbey.
‘Ok, ground rules,’ I say, as we walk. ‘Well, just one rule, really. This is hallowed ground, so my powers will grow weaker the nearer to the abbey we get.’
‘Hallowed ground?’ I can hear the apprehension in his voice, but he doesn’t slow his pace.
‘Because it was a religious building,’ I explain. ‘It hasn’t been in use in centuries, but the spirit of it remains, so my strength and speed will gradually drop to a human level as we get closer. So if we see a security guard, we’re not going to run. We’re going to hide.’
‘A security guard?’ I feel him stiffen beside me. ‘Florence, are we breaking and entering?’
‘No, of course not,’ I scoff, biting back a smile. ‘We can’t break into ruins. We’re trespassing.’
‘Florence!’
There’s real panic in his voice this time and, God help me, when I hear it, I almost laugh out loud. I definitely can’t hold in my smile.
‘Oh, live a little,’ I say, not loosening my grasp on his arm or the pace of our march even a little. ‘I thought you were supposed to be the fun one.’
I hear him snort beside me. ‘I am!’ he huffs out. ‘But there’s nothing fun about prison. Look how pretty I am. It won’t go well for me in there.’
He’s not wrong, on either count. Especially with those glasses on.
If I weren’t already dead, I’d have fallen down and died the moment he slipped them onto his face.
I mean, he was handsome anyway, but this is just another level.
Perhaps they’re enchanted. I wouldn’t rule anything out at this point.
‘You’re not going to prison for sneaking into Whitby Abbey, Quinn.’ I slow my pace as we approach the foot of the tall stone walls. ‘If anyone sees us – which they won’t – they’ll just tell us to leave, and we’ll apologise profusely and high tail it out of here.’
He turns to look at me, the moonlight reflected in his eyes.
Sometimes he looks so much like Josiah that I can’t bear it.
Especially now, with that faint look of fascination on his face.
Josiah always looked at me like he was searching for something, and I could never figure it out.
Quinn is wearing an almost identical expression now.
‘What?’ I ask, and it brings out his widest smile – the one that makes his dimple pop and sets him apart from the man I loved so much. It’s a smile that manages to be devastating in two opposing definitions at the same time.
‘I like who you are after dark,’ Quinn says, oblivious to the churn of feelings in my chest.
My nose wrinkles. ‘You didn’t like me before?’
He shakes his head slowly, his eyes fixed on mine. ‘No, I did. But I’ve seen a whole new side of you tonight, and I’m into it.’
That hum in my chest is back. He’s looking at me like he can see into my soul, and I’m not sure how to feel about it.
The way he looks at me sometimes, it’s like he recognises me.
And he didn’t even exist the last time I lived in Whitby, so it can’t be that.
I don’t want to think too much about what it could be.
It feels a little too much like I’m losing my grip on something that I’ve kept a very tight hold of for a very long time.
Instead, I raise a brow. ‘How’s that dating ban working out for you?’
‘It’s going badly,’ he says through a soft laugh, and then he looks away.
‘Anyway.’ He gestures at the building in front of us.
‘You said you wanted to show me something. Surely it’s not just the abbey.
’Cause I hate to break it to you, but I’ve lived in Whitby all my life. I’m well acquainted with the abbey.’
‘No,’ I say, a knot forming in my stomach. ‘It’s not.’
A rush of panic rattles through me. I’m not entirely sure why I asked if I could be the one to tell Quinn about his blood results.
Maybe because I’ve broken bad news to hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people over the years, or maybe it was something more reckless than that, some careless notion of being important to him, even though rationally I know he isn’t the man who promised his life to me on a windswept pier all those years ago.
Whatever it was, I knew I couldn’t bear the idea of someone else telling him.
So I need to do it. He deserves to know.
‘Come on,’ I say, and I grab him by the wrist and lead him into the ruins.
When I first started coming back to this spot I’d have to think about it.
I’d count pillars or look for familiar shapes in the stone.
But I know the way without looking now. It’s just muscle memory.
I’ve walked this same route thousands of times, sat on the low wall so often that my imprint is visible there – a dip worn smooth in the sandstone.
‘Here,’ I say as I sit down, dragging my fingers across the texture of the stone beneath me. I recognise it instantly. ‘This is the place.’
Quinn frowns. I gesture for him to sit down next to me, but he stays on his feet, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if he might need to make a quick getaway.
It’s cute he thinks he might outrun me after his performance walking up the 199 steps, even with my power somewhat neutralised.
‘Sounds ominous,’ he says eventually, and the quiet tug of tension in his voice tells me it’s time for me to ease his vulnerability by being vulnerable myself.
‘This is where I was when it happened,’ I start, the memory of it sending a jolt of pain through me, even after all this time.
‘It was about a year after Josiah died, and I started walking when I couldn’t sleep.
It was dangerous to come up here alone at night, I knew that, of course, but I’d already lost the love of my life.
I thought the worst thing that could happen was that someone would kill me too, and at the time that didn’t seem like too scary a prospect.
I thought perhaps they’d put me out of my misery. ’
I stop to take a breath and Quinn visibly relaxes. Strange that the story of how I gambled my mortality and lost should be comforting to him, but I suppose I can’t complain. That was the desired effect, after all.
Wordlessly, he lowers himself to sit beside me, his eyes trained on mine.
He’s giving me his absolute attention now and God, it’s addictive.
I keep talking, hoping it will hold him there.
I stifle the urge to reach out for him, to drag my fingers along his jaw, to feel the texture of the scruff under my fingertips.
I try not to wonder how warm he is there.
‘I didn’t notice the man leaning against a pillar until it was far too late,’ I say, and I nod to the stone column in front of us.
‘He was up against me in a heartbeat, clutching at me, his teeth at my throat. I don’t remember all of it, but I remember his eyes and the smell of his breath, and the way his nails snagged against the skin of my neck.
That’s what I focused on, until I couldn’t focus on anything.
Then it all went black. I knew as it happened that I was dying. ’
Quinn’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything. Just nods that I should continue. I can’t tell whether he’s afraid or intrigued. Maybe he’s both.
‘I don’t remember the moment I came back. I suppose that’s a blessing. The next thing I knew, I woke up right here, and the sun was so bright it made my skin itch and burn. I didn’t realise what I was, at first. What I’d become.’
‘A vampire?’ he asks softly, though it doesn’t sound much like a question. It’s more of a conclusion.
‘Yeah.’
He nods, looking around at the half-destroyed building we’re sitting in. ‘So you wanted to show me the place where you were turned?’ Confusion raises the pitch of his voice a little and carves a deep groove between his brows.
‘No,’ I say, fishing my hair out of my eyes where the wind has flung it. ‘I wanted to show you my safe place.’
His eyes widen. ‘Your safe place is the place where you got violently turned into a vampire?’
It sounds crazy when he says it like that, but it’s the truth.
‘Well, yeah,’ I say with a soft smile. ‘Because it reminds me that I can survive anything. Even death.’
I see the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. ‘I mean, you’re immortal now, so … presumably you can survive anything.’
‘Metaphorically, Quinn.’ I roll my eyes and his smile grows. ‘There’s a connection there now, something that ties me to this spot. It’s like when murderers return to the scene of the crime.’
His smile falls in an instant and I feel the way tension zips him up tightly again. ‘Well, there’s nothing terrifying about you dragging me out to a deserted spot in the middle of the night and talking to me about murderers.’
‘I told you,’ I say as evenly as I can. ‘You’re safe with me.’
He relaxes a fraction but keeps his eyes trained on me. ‘Are you one of those ethical vampires who doesn’t harm humans?’
What’s a diplomatic way of saying this?
‘Usually.’
He flies up off the wall, eyes wide in the moonlight. ‘Usually? Florence, you’re killing me here.’ His mouth drops open, suddenly aware of what he just said. ‘Wait, no. That’s not at all what I meant. Don’t kill me here. That was a terrible choice of words!’
I laugh – I can’t help it. I’ve never met anyone who feels all their feelings out loud in quite the same way as he does. It’s oddly charming.
‘Quinn, stop,’ I say, forcing down my laughter. ‘I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help you.’
He slowly sits back down on the stone, eyeing me with caution. ‘I’m sorry, you’re just … well, you’re kind of creeping me out.’
‘I’m not meaning to, I promise.’ I flash him an apologetic smile. ‘I’m just naturally creepy.’
He blows a breath out. ‘Normally it’s kind of hot, honestly, but normally I’m not alone with you in the deserted ruins of an ancient abbey.’
I can’t hold back my smile at that. I may be over a century old, but I still regress to an awkward teen stage when a good-looking man tells me he thinks I’m hot, ‘kind of’ or otherwise.
‘I’ll try and rein it in,’ I promise, and that makes him smile too.
‘If you could.’
‘And now,’ I say, gathering my courage. ‘I need you to listen.’