Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
brAM
Well, that went well.
And by ‘well’, I obviously mean it was a fucking disaster.
I said I was going to give Lucy space to get her things together and leave, and in my defence, I did. Right up until that last-minute panic when I half sprinted up to the station to stop her getting on the train.
I got as far as the platform before I spotted her through the window of the carriage, gave myself a mental slap, and then hightailed it out of there before she could see me. Now I’m sitting outside on a low wall, trying to get myself together.
I think perhaps there’s a part of me that thought she wouldn’t get on the train – that she’d come back out and find me. But that service left twenty-five minutes ago, and since there’s no sign of her now, I have to assume that she’s gone. And it’s entirely my fault.
Ok, yes, I know I told her to go. Made her go, some might say.
Whatever.
The point is that she’s gone, and now I have to deal with it until she comes back, or, y’know … for eternity.
No need to panic.
I take one last, longing look at the station and then set off in the direction of Flowergate. The guest at my place has gone now, but I can’t bear the thought of going home. I don’t think I can handle being alone. Instead I head to Bitten.
It’s only a couple of streets across, but I’m soaking by the time I let myself into the bar. It’s been raining steadily the whole time, so I’ve got to assume I’ve been wet for a while, but I didn’t notice until I saw myself dripping onto the stone step into the living area.
There’s a low groan from somewhere in the direction of the sofa, and I peek in to find a pair of feet poking out from under a pile of blankets.
Sammi, I’m going to assume, from the fire-engine-red toenails and the conveniently placed bucket beside her.
It makes me smile, despite my mood. Sam’s not the most hardened of drinkers.
There are also a couple of people I vaguely recognise crashed out in sleeping bags on the floor, and Ed – the guy who supplies our bar snacks – curled up on the beanbag in the corner.
Must have been quite a night.
I head to the storeroom – may as well do something useful while I’m moping – but before I’m even all the way there, I hear the distinct sound of pool balls clacking off each other.
When I swing open the door, I find Elias contorting himself in some inhuman way to attempt an elaborate backwards trick shot.
He sinks it just as the door clicks shut behind me.
‘Nice,’ I say, and he grins at me in response, reaching a hand up to brush his curls out of his face.
‘I should hope so.’ He chuckles. ‘Been practising that one for about ninety years.’
He rounds the table, grabbing the triangle and pushing the mechanism to release the balls before grabbing a second cue from the rack and throwing it at me. I catch it just before it smacks me in the face.
‘You look like shit,’ he says, not looking up, and I bark out a laugh.
‘It’s also nice to see you.’
‘Sorry.’ His mouth curls into a grin as he rounds the table, not repentant in the slightest. ‘But wow.’ He breaks, potting two yellows in the process, before looking back up at me. ‘What the hell did she do to you, man?’
I blow out a breath, but I don’t answer. Instead I pretend to be assessing the position of the red balls on the table.
‘What’s her name?’ Elias asks. His voice is softer now, and when I look up at him I find that his smile has dropped. I’ve rarely seen him so serious.
I just about manage to reply. ‘Lucy.’
‘Like in Dracula!’ He chuckles a little to himself. ‘Bet W?adek’s over the moon.’ Then he sobers and bends to pull off a long shot, getting a third ball in the bottom pocket. I’m not even going to get a turn at this rate.
‘You never forget the first one,’ he says, once he realises I haven’t replied.
I look back at him, confused. ‘Huh?’
‘The first human you meet.’ He chalks the end of his cue, not that it seems necessary. The dude can’t miss. ‘The first one that gets to you. After your change, I mean.’
I tense at his words, an uncomfortable roll of something in my stomach. The idea of Lucy as the first of many makes my throat tighten. I can’t imagine there’s anyone else quite like her.
‘Mine was Frances.’ He rebounds a yellow off the cushion, and it sails into the middle pocket.
‘The prettiest woman I’ve ever met to this day, and that was before most people had running water.
’ He smiles to himself before he looks back at me, and when he does, his nose wrinkles in sympathy.
‘And I’m guessing from the way you look that it’s all over now. ’
I nod, and he lets out a low whistle.
‘She find out?’
‘I told her.’
His gaze snaps back to meet mine. ‘Jesus. And she took it badly?’
‘Actually, no.’ It’s my turn to laugh, but there isn’t a shred of humour in it. ‘She was great about it. Better than I expected, even.’
Elias pauses, cue held steady. ‘But?’
‘But she made a comment about how much she wants a family.’
‘So you ended it.’ It’s not a question. He knows.
‘Yeah.’ I spin the cue in my hands. ‘She can’t have that with me.’
He makes a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a tut, then cleanly pots a long shot before standing straight, cue propped in front of him.
‘Well, no, not traditionally.’ He hikes his thumb over his shoulder, towards the door.
‘Though those idiots through there make a hell of a replacement. I’m gonna miss them when they grow old and die. ’
There’s humour in his words, but a thread of something darker beneath. I try not to think about how many friends he’s lost over the years. It’s a wonder he still lets himself get close to people at all. I suddenly understand why he occasionally sleeps for a decade or two.
Speaking of sleep.
‘You stayed here?’ I ask, realising that he’s dressed exactly the same as he was at the gig last night.
He eyes me suspiciously, like he thinks I’m trying to change the subject – which, in his defence, I am. ‘I did.’
‘Where did you sleep?’ There was a person on nearly every surface of the living area when I looked round earlier. Unless he shared Quinn and his girl’s bed. I shudder at the thought.
Elias just laughs. ‘Here.’ He motions to the pool table before casually potting another yellow in a corner. ‘I honestly thought it was a bed.’
I hum, not quite a laugh. ‘That must have been some after-party.’
‘Yup.’
He looks fresh as a daisy now. One of the perks of vampirism is that we heal too quickly to get hangovers. Feel a bit drained, sometimes, but there are ways of dealing with that.
‘I feel like you’re deflecting,’ he says, chalking his cue.
I sigh. ‘Of course I am.’
It’s hard enough that I’ve lost Lucy. Rehashing it isn’t going to do a damn thing except make me feel worse.
‘And you need to get better at pool, man,’ he says, brandishing his cue at me like it’s a weapon. ‘It isn’t even a challenge.’
‘Maybe you should let me break,’ I counter. I haven’t taken a single shot yet.
He smirks. ‘Maybe.’ He sinks the last yellow and then the black in two consecutive, clean shots.
One of the perks of being four centuries old is, apparently, being good at everything. I guess hundreds of years of practice will do that for you.
He slots his cue back into the rack and lopes around to my side of the table, where I can’t avoid him. ‘Want me to give you a lecture about how fucking stupid you’re being?’
I huff out a breath. ‘No.’
‘Well, tough shit,’ he says, flicking back his mop of hair with a practised jerk of his head. ‘You’re getting one.’
But he doesn’t lecture me. Not right away. He just stares at me until I feel the need to explain myself.
‘It’s the right thing to do.’
He screws up his face like he doesn’t believe me. ‘For whom?’
I don’t answer. Definitely not for me. I’m thinking of Lucy here. She deserves better than I can give her.
‘For her, I’m going to take from your silence,’ he says, raising an eyebrow at me. ‘Do you know that? Did it seem like the right thing from her reaction?’
‘Maybe,’ I lie, willing away the image of her tear-streaked face. It hurts to even picture it.
The slight lift of his left eyebrow tells me he’s not buying it.
‘Ok, no,’ I grumble, and he nods.
‘That’s what I thought.’
He grabs the cue out of my hands and strides back towards the rack, slotting it into place.
‘You know, sacrifice is your love language,’ he says, turning back to face me. His fingers splay on the table, pale against the dark green felt.
I look at him, confused. Sacrifice is my what now?
‘Shut up,’ he says, even though I definitely didn’t say anything aloud. ‘I’ve been on TikTok. How do you think your average ancient being keeps up with the youths these days?’
I shrug. I’m not sure what’s happening.
Elias points an accusatory finger at me. ‘You’ve given up so much for the people you love. And it’s nice, man. I’m not saying it’s not. But it can be too much sometimes. You’re not a saint, so don’t be a martyr.’
My instinct is to tell him he’s wrong, but is he? I’ve certainly sacrificed a lot over the years. From my chance of success with the band to, well, my life. I’ve done what I thought was best for the people that I love.
Was it too much?
Elias’s hand lands on my shoulder. ‘You’re a good guy, Bram. But it’s ok to be a little selfish sometimes. What do you want?’
Lucy, my mind whispers, but it’s not that simple. I’m hoping like hell she comes back. Of course I am. But I need to know that she’s in. I need to know that she’s sure.
‘Don’t let Lucy become just another thing you give up,’ Elias says when I don’t answer. ‘Because if you’re going to be like this for the next few hundred years, I’m gonna stake myself in the heart.’
I smile despite myself. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Ok, good.’ He claps me firmly on the shoulder before walking off towards the door. ‘Now come on,’ he says over his shoulder. ‘Let’s go annoy the others with how good I look after two hours’ sleep on this pool table.’