"Evolution put you here and it doesn't care about us."
"You Atheists are so brave, able to exist in a Godless universe," he says and squeezes me. "I know there's a God, although my faith has been challenged at times." He's silent for a moment. "I don't believe in the Church any longer, but I know that what it claims about the divine is real."
I look at him, at the white skin, and I remember the story of his making, and how he was taken off the battlefield, turned in the tent where medics tended the wounded, then transformed in the old castle. I take his face in my hands, and imagine him as a child, with dark hair, those huge blue eyes, praying to a god who never answered and yet he still believes, even now, and something breaks inside of me – I can almost feel it crack, rip apart.
I lean down and kiss him, pressing my lips against his, the kiss remaining chaste, the connection between us forming as our lips meet.
"I want you," I say.
"Not tonight."
"Why?"
He shakes his head, his face solemn. "Obedience, Eve. Just obey."
"Are you going out?"
He nods. "Yes. I can't tell you about it."
Then he stands and I extract myself from his arms. He lets me go.
I go to my bed, my knees weak, a choky feeling gripping my chest, and creep under the covers, closing my eyes.
I'm too tired to even cry.
I don't care any longer about this vampire war. I don't want vengeance. I don't feel any better with Thompson dead. It won't make what happened disappear.
Chapter 18
Do not seek the because - in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions."
Anaïs Nin
THE NEXT DAY DAWNS GREY, overcast. I sit up in bed and through the open bedroom door, I watch as Vasily and Julien stand outside the office space and speak in hushed voices. I wondered if Julien ever sleeps and where he does, because after that night we had sex, he hasn't joined me in bed. I get up and go to the bathroom. In need of a shower, I step inside and the hot water that falls in a cascade over me from the huge showerhead stings.
When I'm finished, I dry off and search through the box of clothes, selecting a clean pair of jeans and a sweater. Brushing my fine hair is hard, for it tangles so easily, but after a few minutes of effort, it's tangle-free. I look at my reflection in the mirror. I look the same, with the exception of the scabbed cut on my forehead and the now-fading bruise on my cheek, but I'm not the same person inside.
I go to the kitchen and eat with little interest for there's a kind of emptiness inside me that feels like nausea. There's coffee in a coffeepot but I can't face it with my stomach the way it is. I drink some juice instead.
I wander to the piano and sit down, touching a few keys hesitantly, not really sure that I feel like playing. Usually my solace, now every piece I know just makes me feel incredibly sad. Instead of playing, I sit and stare out the window at the grey clouds scudding across the sky.
A noise from the entrance draws my attention away from the windows. A few of Julien's men come inside. He speaks with them, and then they leave. Julien returns to his office, retrieves a canvas bag. He stops near the exit and drops his bag, then comes over to me as I sit at the piano. He takes my hand and leads me away, over to a couch in the seating area.
He sits and pulls me down on his lap so that I straddle his hips, and I rest my hands on his shoulders. His arms slip around my waist, pulling me closer. There's nowhere for me to look except in his eyes.
He says nothing for a moment, just looks at me, touches my hair, holds it up to his face and inhales.
"I'm going now," he says, his voice quiet. "There are plans in place. The game's afoot."
"What are you going to do?"
He shakes his head.
"I can't tell you details, but it's big. Look, I don't have much time. Once the clock starts, we have everything mapped out in thirty second intervals, and I have," he said and glances at his watch, "about two minutes and thirty seconds left. But if I succeed and make it back," he says and squeezes me, "there'll be one less threat towards you."
"If you make it back?" I shake my head.
"There's always the chance when a soldier goes into battle that he'll die. I'm not expecting it," he says, and runs his fingers through my hair. "But just in case, I wanted to tell you something."