Dark Diary (33 page)

Truthfully, I liked them.

“I think they are beautiful,” I said with a grin, spinning around in my seat to face her. Her hands lifted from me. “Well done, Kathera.” I cupped the sides of her waist and
tugged her closer. A smile of relief spread across her lips and
she shuffled her feet a bit as I stood up and pulled her into me. She tucked her hair behind her ear—a telltale sign that she was pleased with my reply.

I had run my own fingers through her hair several times
before. The dark, fiery-auburn strands were soft to the touch
and framed her face perfectly. She was lovely and—in the good mood that she was
finally
in—breathtaking.

It had been many months since she had started drawing again and, at last, she had a portfolio that satisfied us both. I’d never criticized her work, but she was hard on herself,
often tearing up drawings before they’d even been a moment
in my sight. How very many days she must have spent huddled close to the fireplace set ablaze with “lost causes” and “soulless scraps,” as she called them. They were all flawless in my eyes, just like she was.

My gaze met hers and her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know how I made it all these years without you there,” I said honestly, “but I’m glad I have you now.” I took her chin between my thumb and index finger and tipped her face upward. “I’ll do anything for you, Kathera.
Anything
.” I brushed my thumb across her lower lip.

“I know,” she said. “And I think I’m ready to do this. Come
with me?”

“Of course.”

I had been hesitant to let her go anywhere without me after
everything that had happened to us throughout the past year. During the time she had spent sharpening her skills
and becoming reacquainted with her trade, the air had cleared
of all the mysteries and murder scares that had happened the night everyone had gone missing.

Having both his daughter and wife vanish from his life,
Kathera’s father had chosen to move out of town. I had sensed her longing to try to ease his pain by showing him that
she was, in fact, still alive, but I had firmly reminded her that it was not in our best interest.

Things were calm again. It was a good chance for her to get back to doing what it was she loved to do.

She fidgeted with the notch in my collar and bit her lip. “Do you think anyone from around town will remember me?”

“Perhaps.” I shrugged. “But you are different now.” I bared
my fangs playfully and snapped them together with a smirk.

She laughed and I, too, smiled.

We had several things to do before we could re-open the shop: bills, paperwork, insurance, cleaning, only to name a few of the dozens of tasks that had to be done. I didn’t know the first thing about any of it, really. Luckily, Derek had taught Kathera everything he knew about keeping a business alive and it helped us out tremendously.

I believed he would have given anything to make her happy, and teaching her everything he could may have been his way of making their future together possible. I admit, I had felt strange back when I had made the decision to buy
the shop, but surely he would have wanted her to be happy
—even it meant choosing to stay with me in the end.

It was hard, watching her take in all of the memories that were there at the shop—frozen in time. Nothing had been moved since the day she had disappeared.

Her fingers traced a thick line clean across the dusty front
desk counter and then she wiped them off on her jeans. A few framed designs hung on the walls, as straight as the day she had left them, though I noticed she tried to straighten them further. Old habits?

She flipped the light switches on one-by-one to confirm they were all working, and then made her way to the back room.

There, she stopped and I felt a rift in her thoughts.

“What is it?” I came up beside her and looked the direction her eyes were locked. On top of the large drawing table was a thick sketchbook. The cover was made of soft, dark red, velvety fabric. It was Derek’s…

The book was full of old sketches Derek had drawn and various tattoo ideas he and Kathera had collaborated on. Though she tried to hide it, I could tell Kathera secretly
wanted to crack it open and stare into his imagination for a while. She probably thought it would somehow make her feel close to him again.

She missed him, even when she said she didn’t. No, she hadn’t really wanted to marry him and she had told me this, but it didn’t stop her from feeling badly about losing him. Even I knew enough to know how much he had loved her
and how, somewhere in the darkest corner of her heart, there
would always be a place for him.

The past is the past, and we must move on. We have no choice.

“Kathera.” I interrupted her thoughts by placing a hand onto the
cover of the book. Her eyes met mine and she looked surprised.

“Yes?”

“Facing your past means coming to terms with the
things you cannot change.” I opened the cover and looked at the first drawing. She did the same. The page was filled with the heavy black lines of a dragon that Derek had drawn several
years ago. “You have to accept our limitations… our strengths
and our weaknesses, even if it means letting go.” I closed the book and looked down at her solemn face. “We made a promise, Kathera. Remember?”

She nodded. “I know, but…”

“It hurts.” I took her hands into mine. “It will. But you’re
stronger now. And so am I.”

Kathera’s gaze returned to the book and her hand skimmed over the cover affectionately. Her fingers lingered long enough to take in the softness of the velvet binding.

A frown threatened the edge of her lips for a fleeting moment
, but she swallowed hard and sucked in the courage to fight it off. She wrapped both hands around the book and lifted it to her chest as if to embrace it briefly.

There was a stack of oversized paper sheets on the opposite side of the desk which she placed the book carefully on top of. Slowly, she folded each corner of the large sheet until the book had been neatly wrapped and protected by a layer of white. Taking up the book again, she bent down, slid a large drawer open, and then set the book down inside.

She pushed the drawer in and I felt her heart sink as the book disappeared.

I felt a sudden urge to break the awkward silence. “How long until we can open this place back up?”

She crinkled her lips to one side and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I guess that depends on how long it takes to get everything cleaned and running.”

I
took a quick glance around the office and saw that most of the so-called mess consisted of dust and scattered paperwork.
The place had been literally closed up at the drop of a hat and nothing had been moved since.

“A night or two at most,” I said confidently.

“I could do it in a day,” she added. “If I stayed, I could finish what we start tonight.”

My stomach turned at the thought. I didn’t want to leave
her by herself. It was true that she could resist sunlight—Kathera had an immunity I wasn’t lucky enough to have acquired—but that didn’t make me feel any better about leaving her alone.

“
I’ll be okay,” she said, tapping a finger against my shoulder.
I didn’t even realize I had lost myself in the thought.

I wasn’t jealous of it, but the fact that the sun didn’t sting her eyes as it did my skin was difficult to accept. For years, I had longed to escape the shadows of endless night, but my body had mutated in ways that only accentuated that darkness. I’d give up my wings any day to watch the sunrise again…

“Matthaya?”

I had gone silent again.

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I was thinking.”

“I promise you, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.” She grinned and crossed her arms.

She was right.

THINGS FINALLY FELL INTO PLACE.

I was exactly where I belonged—creating artwork, affecting
people’s lives, and sharing time with the one I loved.

It took awhile for Matthaya to get the hang of things. He’s
not exactly a “people person.” Still, he did it for me. He buried his insecurities and opened up… for me.

As for me, it didn’t take long to get back into the swing of things.
I was drawing new ideas daily and tattooing nightly. I kept daylight hours to a minimum to keep Matthaya calm. It worked well for business.

We even discussed the option of hiring someone to help out, but eventually decided against it. After all, we made our
own hours and chose our customers selectively. I didn’t need
help because I was doing it purely to keep myself active. Tripping over anyone else—especially a mortal—would just cause trouble and make Matthaya uncomfortable. We were happy right where we were.

At least, for a little while.

I don’t know what triggered it, but soon after things had settled down… they struck me again.

The nightmares returned.

It was like cancer that had gone into remission and then
returned without warning. As if dying
once
hadn’t been enough, I had to relive my death as Kathryn even as I slept. I was disgusted with myself for being unable to stop them after
everything Matthaya had done for me. I tried to hide them, but it was impossible. The bond had connected us so tightly that I could not censor a single thought from him.

He found out… and he found out quickly. He ignored it the first and second times, but not the third. He confronted me after work.

“It was the dream again. Wasn’t it?” Matthaya said with a tightened jaw, making no attempt to hide the gruffness in his voice. “It doesn’t make any sense,” he growled. “There’s no reason for it to haunt you still.”

Maybe there was a reason, maybe there wasn’t. Either way, I didn’t know what was causing the flare-up of visions
again, but I had to put an end to them. It was killing him inside to
know that he couldn’t stop the greatest pain of all from attacking me as I slept.

His expression softened and he excused himself from the room. He returned minutes later, bringing with him a pair of fluted glasses. He set them down on the table and poured a fine flame-red liquid into them. It smelled sweet and delicate, and it tasted more satisfying than the finest drink
you could imagine.

It was precious, like ambrosia.

It was infant blood.

I
had tasted it before, back when I had been killing for sport. It’s not a taste you soon forget—or
ever forget
, for that matter.
The nuances of its purity stick with you, taunting and tempting with each innocent glance a youth gives. We don’t do well with children, for this reason.

It was a horrible irony, however, as Matthaya had a fondness
for kids that I hadn’t known about before. He and Kathryn had apparently once discussed someday having a family, but that possibility had died with their mortality.

Now, as I stared at the glass of innocence before me, I wondered where he could have gotten the blood. I even asked, but he knew well enough not to tell. After all, it didn’t matter anymore, did it? The deed had been done. The life taken… or given. I shouldn’t worry about the source when it weighed little next to the burden of guilt I carried because of my suicide.

Because of… Kathryn’s suicide.

The final drop of blood trickled into my mouth and I licked my
lips to remove every trace. “I have to go,” I said. The
precious young lifeblood now coursing through me made
me
antsy and anxious to get away from the confining walls of the shop.

With a quick puff, Matthaya blew out the candle on the table and trotted up beside me.