A Shade of Vampire 26: A World of New (13 page)

S
hayla had been right
to suggest we return. By the time we’d arrived in the old hotel apartment, Josh had completely blacked out. Whatever he had been experiencing—I could only guess memories—had come at him hard and fast. It had overwhelmed him completely, mentally and physically. Now he wasn’t responding to anything.

We rushed him to one of the beds and laid him down, covering him with blankets. Shayla tried to revive him, but nothing she did worked.

Josh’s breathing was really starting to scare me. One moment it came on heavy and labored, and the next it seemed to stop completely.

But then, after about twenty intense, torturous minutes, he came to. His eyelids lifted open, his irises dazed and glassy at first, but gradually gaining focus.

He sat up in bed so abruptly, his head almost whacked into Shayla’s. She had been bending over him.

His lips parted and he looked from me to the witch, a manic expression on his face. “Lawrence!” he breathed. “Lawrence Conway!”

Shayla and I stared back at him, clueless.

He gripped my arm, a mixture of excitement and urgency in his eyes. “My name. My name is Lawrence Conway! It’s my name!”

Shayla’s and my jaws dropped.
Lawrence Conway?

I had never seen him look so excited. So optimistic. I was still recovering from the shock of his blackout, but his enthusiasm was contagious.

I clutched his hand. “What did you see, Jo—Lawrence?”

“I… I was lying somewhere. In one of those buildings, I’m sure. In a white room, with harsh lighting. I was stretched out on the bed. Men in black uniform were gathered around me, some of them wearing surgeons’ masks. They had lots of needles. They injected me in my neck, my abdomen, my ankles and my wrists. The memory was hazy because… I’m pretty sure my mind was hazy at the time. But one of the men
spoke
to me! He called me Lawrence Conway.”

“Is that all you remembered?” Shayla urged, “Just a vision of you in that room?”

He nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes in recollection. “I’m sure I spent a long period of time lying there… I can’t be sure how long though. For now that’s all I remember… but I have a feeling in my gut that graveyard is key. It’s where my memory started flooding back most vividly. You
need
to take me back,” he urged.

He tried to move so suddenly off the bed it was as though he’d forgotten that his legs weren’t working. Shayla and I pushed him back down.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Shayla said, settling him back down against the pillows. She glanced out of the window. “It’s dark now. After what you’ve just been through, you should rest. God knows, after that scare I could do with some rest too. We’ll return first thing tomorrow morning, all right? And we’ll see what other memories return to you.”

He looked reluctant, but nodded. It was clear that there was no arguing with Shayla.

The witch left us to go explore the kitchen to see if she could find any long-life food worthy of eating down there while I sat with Josh… Lawrence.

I still hadn’t gotten my head around it. His words were still sinking in.

“Lawrence Conway,” I murmured, staring at him as he rested on the pillows. “Who is that?”

“Wish I knew,” he muttered. He looked agitated, fidgety, like the last thing he wanted to do right now was lie in bed. He propped himself up against the headboard. “But it shows that you were right, Grace,” he said in a softer tone, meeting my eyes. “My memories haven’t gone anywhere. I have them. They’re just… stuck beneath the surface. Tomorrow, when we return, I just know more will return to me. I can hardly wait.”

Shayla returned, carrying three bowls of steaming hot soup on a tray, and two large bottles of water. “Found all this down in the bunker. Canned soup is good for another year.” She chuckled. She handed a bowl to Lawrence and one to me. Lawrence accepted the soup, though hardly ate a spoonful. Even if he had been feeling starved, in his excitement, I doubted he would be able to eat anything.

Shayla cleared away the bowls once we were done with them and then suggested that we all get some sleep. She promised that we would leave early tomorrow—no later than 6 AM—and it was in Lawrence’s interest to sleep. The time would pass more quickly.

Given that the two bedrooms contained a double bed each, we were now faced with the matter of who would sleep where. I quickly volunteered to rest on the sofa, even though Shayla said that she didn’t mind.

Shayla retired to her bedroom with one of the water bottles, leaving Lawrence and me to wind down. I opened up my suitcase that had been resting on Lawrence’s bedside table and unpacked some essentials—pajamas, toothpaste and toothbrushes. I helped Lawrence to the bathroom where I waited while he brushed his teeth with the bottled water. He still appeared to be in quite a daze, but he seemed… genuinely happy. Relieved, in spite of whatever pain his body was still giving him.

As nervous as I still felt about the whole affair—what exactly he might end up discovering about himself—my mood couldn’t help but lift, too. I’d been around this man so intensely and incessantly for so many days in a row, my mind so wired into his needs, his happiness, it came as kind of a shock to realize how much my own happiness had come to depend on his when I was with him. But I guessed, as a caregiver, that could simply be chalked up to me doing my job right. A good caregiver was supposed to be deeply empathetic.

Once Lawrence had finished brushing his teeth, he wheeled himself out to the bedroom, allowing me to have the bathroom all to myself. I closed the door and changed into my pajamas, then brushed my teeth.

When I emerged in the bedroom about ten minutes later, to my horror, it was to find Lawrence sitting up in bed… clutching my pink, polka-dot notebook.

“No!” I squealed. “Jo—Lawrence!” I rushed to the bed and grabbed it from him, even as amusement sparked in his eyes.

I felt absolutely mortified to imagine how much he had read already. Although it was supposed to just be notes and observations about him, as time had gone on, it had become almost like a diary. I’d also found myself jotting down some of my own inner thoughts and feelings regarding my interactions with him. I’d
never
thought he would actually read them!

“How did you get a hold of this?” I scolded him.

“You left it by my bedside,” he said matter-of-factly. “Seeing that you placed it so close to me, I didn’t think that it would be anything very private.”

I cursed myself. I must’ve planted the notebook down on the table while I was unpacking the toothbrushes and forgotten to replace it in the suitcase.

“I’m sorry,” he went on, the corners of his lips still curved. “Though I’m not sure what you are so embarrassed about.”

Ugh
. I found myself flipping through the notebook in a panic, reminding myself of what I’d written. “How far did you get into this?” I asked.

“Not far,” he said. “Just the first page…”

That’s why you didn’t find anything too embarrassing yet.

“I would really like to finish reading it, though, if you would allow me, Grace.”

Oh, my God. No, no, no.
“It’s just my stupid, rambling notes,” I said, moving to stow the book back in the suitcase.

“I didn’t detect anything stupid about them,” he commented, polite but insistent. “And I have a pretty high stupid detector. I found your observations incredibly interesting. Enlightening, even. At least, those I managed to glimpse so far.”

I paused, staring down reluctantly at the book in my hands. Since he really was insisting, I supposed that I could hand-pick a few observations and let him read them.

I turned on him, my eyes narrowing. “Okay. Scooch over.”

He moved over on the bed, making room for me to sit next to him. I kept the notebook’s pages away from his view as I began turning them. Since he had already scanned the first page, I moved to the second. But from here on, as I’d started to get to know him a little better, the comments all seemed kind of personal.

“I’m waiting,” he said.

“And you may be waiting forever…” I murmured grimly, gritting my teeth as I flipped to the last page. Augh. I really didn’t want him to read any more than he already had.

“How about this,” he suggested. “You hand me the notebook, but read along with me. If I get to something that’s absolutely too excruciating for you, you can just snatch the book off me again. All right?”

I heaved a sigh. Would there really be any harm in him reading it, other than my own embarrassment? It might even be good for him to read all my observations compiled in one place. Perhaps it would help to spark something in him.

I reluctantly handed him the book and leaned back against the pillows with him as he held the notebook up and opened to the second page.

As his eyes began to travel down the page, I nudged him in the shoulder and said, “Hey, no cheating. Start reading from the top.”

And so he did. Details of the second day we’d spent with each other. Most of it seemed pretty mundane now, in light of everything that had happened since, but Josh read it with interest before turning to the third page.

Once I realized that he was nearing the bit when he’d snapped at me in the bathroom after his failed attempt at shaving, I wasn’t sure I could bear it. I moved to take the book from him, but he held on tight.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ve read this far. You might as well let me finish it.”

Oh, no…

I let go of the book, allowing him to continue reading. I didn’t want to follow along the part about his fall. I kept my eyes on the other side of the room until he’d passed it. I was glad that he didn’t comment about it. I guessed he’d felt uncomfortable too.

“‘Josh was in much better spirits today,’” he began to read aloud, in a higher tone of voice than usual. “‘He enjoyed the trip to the beach and—’”

I clamped a hand over his mouth and glared at him. “Don’t read it out loud.” It was embarrassing enough as it was without him reading in his stupid girly voice.

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

I removed my hand and allowed him to continue reading in silence. After about a minute, another smile cracked his lips. He turned to me and smirked. “You don’t
half
go on about my muscles.”

Oh, my God.

Just kill me now.

“It’s part of my job,” I insisted, even as my cheeks grew red hot.

“Sure it is,” he said, slanting me a sly glance.

He fell quiet again, fixing his eyes back on the pages. And gradually, as he moved further into the notebook, toward the middle of my notes, his smile faded and he stopped making comments. By the time he had turned to the last page, it was hard for me to put a finger on his expression. Somber…
Touched?

He closed the book and placed it on the bedside table before twisting on the mattress to face me fully. His gaze was hard to hold. I wondered what was going through his head exactly.

He cleared his throat, and his voice was quite hoarse as he said, “Thank you, Grace, for letting me read that.”

I shrugged, smiling and trying to make light of the situation. “Just doing my job, as I said.”

But he didn’t return my smile. He continued gazing at me so intensely that I almost looked away… yet something about his deep, brown eyes kept mine glued to them.

His hand moved downward, brushing against my arm. His fingers wrapped around my hand before raising it to his lips. I was breathing a little too hard as he pressed a chaste kiss against the back of it.

“Not to sound corny,” he said in a low voice, “but you honestly have been a
grace
to me. I’m not sure where my spirits would be right now if it weren’t for you visiting me every day. If it weren’t for your friendship… I suspect that you won’t ever know quite how much it has meant to me.”

I beamed at him, the corners of my eyes heating.

“If it hadn’t been for your idea to bring me here, on this trip,” he went on, his voice dropping deeper still, “I doubt any of this would’ve happened. I wouldn’t have found Clyderly base, or the graveyard… I wouldn’t know my name.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to all of this that wouldn’t sound painfully cheesy, and inadequate, to express how much I had actually ended up enjoying caring for him—despite the obstacles we’d faced. I just found myself leaning forward, closer to him, and planting a kiss on his pale cheek.

“You’re welcome,” I whispered.

A cute blush crept to his cheeks, and his eyes shone. I felt an unexpected urge to hug him and so, inching a little closer… I did. I wrapped an arm around him and rested my head against his shoulder. He tensed at first, then relaxed, his right hand settling over the small of my back.

I moved my ear above his heart and listened to the sound of it beating. Slow, but steady. I hoped that his eating would be back to normal soon. He had consumed a worryingly small amount these past few days. Since he wasn’t fully human, he could get away with eating less, but there was only so long he could go before Shayla would need to step in… perhaps start feeding him intravenously.

I shook the thought away. I needed to stay positive. For me and for Lawrence.

I had witnessed the effect on his overall mood the remembrance of his name had brought about. If he discovered more about himself tomorrow when we returned to the graveyard, perhaps his mood would lift further. If his mental wellbeing continued to improve, perhaps his appetite would follow… then we just needed the rest of him to get better, somehow…

My thoughts were interrupted by Lawrence’s lips brushing against my forehead. A soft, quick kiss. Then his fingers began to trail through my hair, gently, absentmindedly, and I couldn’t think of much else after that. My stomach churned with butterflies…
Butterflies
. The last time I’d felt them had been with Heath.

As I remained lying in Lawrence’s arms deep into the night, I wondered what, exactly, I was falling into here…
What I might have already fallen into.

The only thing that I knew for certain, as I glanced up into Lawrence’s brown eyes, was that I had abandoned any and all pretenses of being a “professional”.