20. Maria
Chapter twenty
Maria
Isqueeze Chris’s arm and face Tig on the virtual screen. “It’s not fair,” I tell her. “I was changed after the Collapse. Why do I get to live in luxury when the renegades have to starve?”
I never thought I’d be defending nightcrawlers like this, but it’s true.
What if they aren’t monsters by choice? What if some are like me, but they’ve been starving and struggling alone their entire lives with no one to help them or teach them?
I know that renegades are the worst of the vampires, that they are the ones who likely killed Lehm.
Part of me will never forgive that. But the unfairness remains true.
“Your situation is not the same as the renegades.” On screen, Tig frowns at me. “Technically, your case hasn’t been decided yet. Chris could still face ramifications. You’re lucky he isn’t ash. Be grateful.”
Fear crawls across my skin at the reminder.
I hate their system.
Chris shouldn’t have to die for saving me.
He growls, not having any of Tig’s pushback.
“If the council doesn’t do something about the renegades, the word’s going to get out and you won’t find anyone to work this particular ark.
” He huffs. “We need the boxes of clone blood you promised me for searching the silos. And a new truck at the council’s expense. ”
I nod vigorously, crossing my fingers and hoping Tig doesn’t ask us for a detailed account of the entire night.
If we hadn’t wasted time playing in an abandoned bedroom, we might have missed the renegades completely.
I liked the uninterrupted privacy with Chris—a lot—but maybe we should keep our activities inside the ark.
Tig huffs. “I delivered a box last night. I’ll check our inventory. For both items. Whatever we have available will be in your garage by the time you wake tomorrow.”
Chris breathes out a sigh, sounding relieved. “Thanks, Tig.”
“Just be glad Ari’s on vacation. Because I have a good guess why you we’re late getting back to the ark, and Ari would yank your chain for the next year about it.”
The vidcon goes blank. I carefully hug Chris to avoid hurting his wounds. “Can we go see Zinnia?”
“Absolutely.”
I take his hand and walk toward the decon shower. “How are you feeling?”
“Silver causes bad burns.” He strips off his destroyed shirt and tosses it in the cloth recycler, then shows me the black cuts and bubbled skin on his shoulder. “I have some blood from another vampire in the kitchen refrigerator. It’ll help. Let’s get cleaned up.”
He stuffs the rifle and handgun into a locker, then strides to the decon room and tosses the circus plate and backpack into the autocleaner. We rush through the decontamination process.
Once I’m dry and dressed in sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, I hurry down the hallway.
“Wait,” Chris calls after me. “Leave your daylight bracelet on the desk in the charging station.” Shirtless, he drops his bracelet into the charger and peels off for the refrigerator, grabs a small vial, then dots vampire blood on his burns.
I follow his lead, leaving my bracelet next to his. Then I look around for Zinnia. The empty snack plate I prepared before we left is on the table. Good. She followed my instructions and fed herself. But when I see her on the couch, my stomach sinks.
She’s hunched over, hugging her tattered stuffed bunny. Her chin rests on her chest, and she looks as if the weight of the world is on her shoulders.
“Baby girl.” I join her, wrapping an arm around her and cuddling her onto my lap. “What’s wrong?”
She looks up at me. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?” I stroke her back. “Tell me what’s happened.”
She shudders and doesn’t have a chance to answer.
Chris enters my line of sight, and he glances from me to the bedroom door.
I follow his gaze. I’m sure we left it closed. But now it’s partially ajar.
Chris returns the blood vial to the refrigerator, then charges into the bedroom. “Argh. Elvis! What did she do to you?”
He emerges holding Elvis, his favorite guitar. An acoustic guitar, made of spruce and mahogany woods—words meaningless to me. He told me all about it as we dismantled his studio.
Horror fills me. Colorful drawings cover the light brown wood. In permanent marker.
Oh no. I shouldn’t have giggled with her when she drew on Chris’s face. I should have set the rules then.
Chris’s normally pale face is bright red, his jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscles on both sides bulge out. “I didn’t think this night could get any more fucked.”
“Chris!”
“Don’t Chris me. Look at this. One of the most famous musicians of the modern era played this guitar. And now it’s ruined.” He controls the volume of his voice, but his tone is the flat sound of someone holding back rage.
Zinnia looks up at me, tears in her eyes. “I wanted to make it pretty for Daddy Christopher—” Chris makes a strangled noise, and Zinnia’s lip wobbles. “But then I remembered he said not to touch those, but I already did it and…and…I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Sorry won’t fix—”
“Chris. Please.” I hold Zinnia tighter to me, soothing her. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. Zinnia is sorry, as you heard, and we are going to talk about the rules now. Do you want to sit down and talk about them with us?”
Chris says nothing, still clenching his jaw.
“Okay. Then maybe you can go somewhere and cool down. I’ll talk to Zinnia.”
He huffs at that and strides toward the hallway leading to the warehouse. “I’ll try to remove the ink.”
I comfort Zinnia as she cries. This is my fault.
I should have stayed here with her. I should have laid out all the rules for this new space.
“Baby girl, from now on, you can only use the pens to draw on the paper Daddy Chris gives you. Nothing else. Okay? And you’re not to touch anything in Daddy Chris’s room, okay? ”
“Yes, Mommy.”
I pick up a storybook from the stack and read to her until she dozes in my arms.
Chris returns carrying a box of tools. “Put her to bed. Power tools are loud.”
“Is the guitar—”
“Don’t ask.”
I sigh. I suspect the children are a burden refrain is circling in his mind.
Children are exhausting and trying and hard work, definitely.
But they are so much more than that, too.
When you see the good, feel the joy, you don’t see them as a burden.
I never have. And we had so much trouble conceiving.
She’s a blessing I thought I’d never get to experience.
After carrying Zinnia to her room, I tuck her in, and she stays asleep.
A loud brrr sounds from the living area, and I rush to the hallway, closing the door quickly.
Will the noise wake her? I press my ear to the door.
Just her regular breathing as she sleeps.
Something I wouldn’t be able to hear through a door before becoming a vampire.
I tiptoe into the living area, not wanting to disturb him.
Chris has cut a two-inch hole in the bedroom door.
Hardware lies on the floor next to his knees.
“I’m putting a deadbolt on this door and the doors into and out of the garage and the clean room.
I’ll give you a key. We’ll lock all doors before we leave or sleep.
” He points at the kitchen table. “Backpack for you, with goggles and scarf.”
There’s tension in his voice, like he’s making a great effort not to yell.
He’s not the only one feeling overwhelmed. The renegades’ attack. My fear that Chris might be dead when I snuck down the off-ramp. Tig’s reminder that the council hasn’t resolved our situation. And now, his reaction to a mistake by my baby girl.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I realize I should have kept my mouth shut the moment those words escaped.
He glares at me, his pupils dark pits. Anger pours through our bond. His anger. He turns back to the door, kneels, and, using a screwdriver, installs the lock and ignores me. Then it hits me. He cares more for his things than he does for us.
We had such a wonderful night before the attack. He made me feel like we’d have more of those moments. He said he felt different with me. But one hiccup and…
Tears flood my eyes. It’s all too much. I march up to where Chris works, my fists clenched. “The guitar is just a thing. I don’t care what dead guy owned it. Zinnia is a living being and doesn’t deserve your anger like this.”
He rises, pivots on his heels, and stomps down the hallway.
I can feel sunrise approaching. He’ll stay awake longer than I will, so I feed again, then disappear into the bedroom, hoping that in the morning he’ll realize he’s overreacting and find forgiveness in his heart.
Because I can tell he has one. When he isn’t upset, he’s been kind and playful with Zinnia.
I feel certain he’ll come to love and accept her, despite the occasional misstep.
Won’t he?
My eyes tear and fine cracks fracture my heart. I don’t want to lose whatever is blossoming with Chris, whatever we could be. But if he can’t adjust…I’m choosing Zinnia, no matter how much it’ll hurt to lose him.