Tasteful Darkness

Chapter 27

Balendin - Now

When I wake up, I'm not alone.

"Hey, Vincent," someone says, snapping in front of my eyes.

I groggily sit up and wipe my hands down my face. When my vision focuses, I realize just how close Peter's face is to mine.

"Yes?" I say, my voice unsteady.

"Are you all right?" he asks, his voice heavy with concern. "I heard something fall and when I came in here, you were on the floor. What happened?"

"I don't know." I rub my temples. "I'm fine, really."

He watches me for a moment. "If you say so."

He offers me his hand and—after suppressing my Guard form—I take it. He helps me to my feet and the two of us return to the living room. Peter stays by my side as he helps me onto the sofa

"Here," Peter says, going to take off my coat.

"No," I say. "You keep it. You're the one who's cold."

He hesitates, but he must realize I mean it because he pulls the coat tighter around him.

"The one thing you could do is change the subject," I suggest, not wanting to dwell on the idea of Adrian being tortured as long as Peter lives.

"All right," Peter says, sinking to the floor in front of me. "How long have I known you, Vincent?" His voice is surprisingly level.

"Four days," I say. "Why—has it felt like longer?"

His smile lights up the room. "I thought as much. And how long should someone know another before they invite them somewhere formal?"

I nearly smirk. "At least two weeks," I tease. "Depends if you're in desperate need of a companion." I tilt my head. "How desperate are you, Peter?"

He doesn't react to my change in tone. "I have a wedding coming up—"

"Congratulations."

He glares at me. "Not mine."

"What a shame."

"As I was saying," he says, "I am attending a wedding soon, and the groom is suggesting I bring someone to the reception. I was thinking that someone could be you."

I don't respond.

"I am aware this is rather forward," he says after a moment.

I'm only quiet because I have no idea how to respond. What does this mean—him inviting me to a wedding? I've never even been to one before, only seen them from afar.

I never understood the appeal. Celebrating a love that would only last another few decades if they're lucky.

"So you are desperate," I say. "Intriguing."

"It's a simple yes or no," he says. "And you'd have to wear something nice for once."

I feign offense. "How could you? All of my outfits are fit for the king and queen."

"Sure. And you don't have to tell me now—"

"I'll go," I say. "I'll go anywhere with free alcohol."

Peter glares at me. I smile.

"Only joking," I add. "I'll be responsible. Just this once."

He gives an unconvincing laugh.

"When you say the wedding is soon," I say, "how soon is that, exactly?"

He looks to the floor. "It may or may not be in two days."

I blink. "You expect me to be fully prepared to attend a wedding reception in two days?"

"I told you it was last minute."

"I didn't realize you meant that last minute." I groan and lean back against the sofa. "I need to get a suit."

"You don't already have one?"

"Well..." I think back on all the suits I've "borrowed" over the last few centuries. I'm sure the few formal ones I have are long out of style. "No. Not exactly."

Peter looks as if it's taking everything in him not to smack himself on the forehead. "We are getting you a suit. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Why not? Do you have a bar to get drunk in?"

I glare at him. "No."

"Good. I will come by in the morning."

Not giving me the chance to say anything else, he turns his attention towards the window. The world has grown calm outside, and the rain appears to have stopped.

"I should get going," Peter says, standing. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Yes." I rise to my feet. "I suppose you will."

Before a silence can fall, Peter starts walking towards the front door. I follow after him, my mind reeling.

He pulls the door open and steps outside. "Thanks for letting me stay," he says with a small smile.

I nod. "Anytime. See you tomorrow."

"Good night."

Then he turns and continues down the street. I watch him go for a long moment before going back inside and closing the door behind me.

I stand there for a while, my hand still on the doorknob as everything replays in my mind.

I am wasting my time going to a wedding when I should be finding ways to get Peter's soul.

He can't love me by now—he can't.

And I'm starting to think he never will.

Images of the River in the Underworld flash in my mind. The feeling of the cold waters that splits the minds of Guards.

I was young—as young as my kind can be—when I first fell into its depths. I could not control the souls of the Underworld, and they began growing restless. Screaming, moaning, crying with pain, and nothing I did would stop them.

The Creator eased their discomfort after dragging me from the waters. But I paid the price for the disturbance.

The memory of the pain I felt sends shivers running up my spine.

Never again.

When I open my eyes, I feel nothing. No concern that Peter's soul won't be mine in the end. No guilt for Adrian's suffering.

Nightwatchers live for themselves, and nothing more. That is what I must be in this life.

Let him enjoy these next few days, a voice inside me says. They will be his last.

"Quiet," I say to no one but myself.

It's what you want, isn't it?

"Stop it."

To distract myself from the voices, I push open the front door and stumble out onto the street. I shove my hands into my pockets and trudge down the street.

The voice doesn't stop. The part of me that belongs to the Underworld—the part of me that I've tried to forget for centuries.

You know what you have to do to stay here forever.

The words come to me like harsh blows. I make a sharp turn and disappear into an alleyway.

I cover my hands with my ears, trying to drive the voice away.

You know you have to kill him.

The rage ignites me. Without thinking, I lurch towards the nearest wall. My fist collides with the stone wall, but it doesn't stop. It punches through entirely and sends rocks tumbling down on top of me. I don't flinch as the stones pile at my feet. My breaths are heavy and ragged, dragging in and out.

No human can defy my power.

And yet.

Why does the thought of him make me feel so powerless?