Humanity (15 page)

“Is there a road this way?” I asked.

“Yes, and hopefully a shack of some
sort.” He looked grim.

“You’re not looking forward to it,” I
noted.

“No. In a storm like this any structure
will be bound to attract everyone within a five-mile radius.”

“What about a cave?”

“I highly doubt there are any caves
around here.” He nodded at the currently flat terrain. “And if there were, we’d
find the same problem.”

We kept walking. The snow grew heavier; I
couldn’t feel my face, and Gideon’s lips were purple. We hit the road, but
stuck to the ditches to avoid the icy surface. Then, finally, a small structure
appeared.

It looked to be the remains of a gas
station, with pumps in the front; the majority of it was white, though red
accented the edges. Mercifully, the glass hadn’t been broken through yet.

The building was dark inside, but that
didn’t mean anything; no one would be eager to collect firewood at that moment,
so therefore no one would have bothered to light a fire if they were inside.
Gideon let go of my hands, and we each took out our guns, pointing them with
both hands at the doors.

When we reached the entrance, Gideon
kicked the door forward so that it swung on its hinges, then anchored it with
his shoulder, gun at the ready. I could tell from his expression that the
station already had occupants, and they were probably just as on edge as Gideon
and I were.

After a few seconds, he nodded me in.

Gun still ready, I walked in and let my
eyes adjust. Three other people, each huddled alone in separate corners, had
their guns raised as well. Two were men of different statures, though both wore
grizzly beards and gaunt expressions. The other was a woman with her hair shorn
short, her eyes hard.

I walked forward, then slowly backed into
the last remaining corner, my eyes traveling to each individual in turn, a
circuit to make sure no one decided to attack.

Gideon let go of the door, allowing it to
swing closed. He joined me, then pulled both of us to the floor, wrapping his
arms tightly around me so we could preserve body heat; I ducked my head into
his chest, letting my own warm breath wash over me.

“Snow’s abnormal?” I whispered. I stuck
my gun back in my pocket, letting Gideon do the pointing; no one was letting
their guard down, not yet. He rested his elbow against my back, ready for
anything.

“Yes,” he replied. “This shouldn’t last
long.”

“That’s what you said
hours
ago.”

“Even if this is more than should have
happened at any point in California, it’s
still
not going to last. We’ll be out of here soon.” He seemed to be reassuring
himself more than me, though I hardly wanted to be so on edge either, with
others around.

“Does it ever snow where we’re going?”

“No. We’ll go as far south as we can,
until we meet Mexico. It won’t snow there.”

“I really hope not.”

“You’ve gotten caught in snow before,
haven’t you?”

“Yes, and I don’t like it. My parents
always made sure we had a place to stay once it got this cold, though.”

“Why didn’t they ever decide to take you
south, like we’re doing?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they saw
it as too much bother. I should have asked, but it never occurred to me that
there was another option.” I left the other part of my thought unsaid, though
I’m sure he could sense the idea: now, I would never be able to ask them why we
stayed in Oregon, why we never went south.

I peeked through Gideon’s arms, looking
around at the others; they were becoming disinterested by us now, and were
staring at the ceiling, or watching the windows.

“They look so unhappy,” I murmured.

“It’s hard, being alone.”

“But that’s not how you felt when you
were alone, was it?”

“No, because I knew what it could be like
not
to be alone. Being alone was a
haven to me, after all that. Because of that, I knew how to enjoy the little
parts about being alone, rather than focusing on the root of it.”

“Which is?”

He gave me a small smile. “Being alone is
lonely.”

As I drowned in his deep brown eyes, I
was struck again by that desire – the desire to be close to him. This time,
however, I was already physically close to him. The desire was still there,
though, like a thread innately pulling me to him.

The station door flew open again, and I
ducked under Gideon’s arm to protect my face from the gust of cold air and snow
that hit us. I waited as the new arrival stood in the doorway, allowing the
cold in and studying the five individuals already occupying space. Finally,
mercifully, the door swung closed.

I raised my head, blinking my eyes into
focus so I could see the newcomer.

It was Alice.

Chapter 14

Her eyes met mine, staring with lips
slightly parted before she continued to look around at the others, gun pointed,
a familiar brown backpack slung across her shoulders. Finally, she chose the
far wall and slid down. Her eyes were definitely staring at us more than our
fair share.

My gut squirmed as I saw what she saw:
me, wrapped protectively in the arms of my parents’ killer. The one I’d meant
to eradicate, just like she’d done to the person who’d killed her own parents.

Gideon sensed my discomfort. “What’s
wrong?” he whispered.

“Nothing. It’s just that . . . I know
her. She was the other girl you let live when you. . .”

“When I took the doe,” he finished for
me.

“Yes. She knows I was going to kill you.”

“You told her.”

“She was my friend. Or, at least, as
close to a friend as possible when you temporarily live and hunt together. I
always thought she was attracted to my family because she’d once had one.”

“So she’d empathize with your goal to
kill me.”

“Yes. Actually, she offered for the two
of us to team up once you were dead. Neither of us realized it would take so
long. And then, of course. . .”

“I didn’t die.”

“Yes. And I stayed with you.”

“She isn’t going to open fire on us,
correct?”

“I think she already would have if she
was thinking in that direction.”

“Will she want to talk to you?”

I bit my lip. “Maybe. I don’t know. We
didn’t know each other that well.”

“I guess we’ll just see.”

We waited. The wind blew and the snow
still fell. I drifted off at some point, warm in Gideon’s arms, and when I
awoke it was quiet. The snow had stopped.

I still couldn’t tell whether Gideon’s
deep breathing meant he was asleep or not. It was dark outside, and he really
did need his rest. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he couldn’t let his guard down
for long enough, though.

“Gideon?” I whispered.

No response.

I looked around the room; once my eyes
adjusted, I could see everyone else was asleep, too.

Everyone but Alice.

“He’s asleep,” she noted.

I tilted my head in acknowledgement, trying
not to move too much so I wouldn’t wake him up.

“Is he holding you against your will?”
she asked.

I immediately shook my head. “No.”

“Then why are you with him? Why isn’t he
dead?”

“It’s complicated.” I squirmed.

“What’s complicated? He killed your parents,
and you were going to kill him.”

“I ran out of ammo, and he let me live.”

She let out a quiet bark of laughter. “So
you forgave him?”

“No. It’s just . . . he’s different than
I thought.”

“Oh. Right. Well, great. That’s a
wonderful reason to be so affectionate with
your
parents’ murderer
.”

“Alice, he was starving. He had no other
choice.”

“He should have starved. What’s so great
about him that you decided not to kill him? And, not only that, travel with
him?
And
be affectionate towards
him?”

A flame of anger licked at my throat.
“Look, you don’t know him, okay?”

“I know that, whatever you do, you
shouldn’t
be
with him. Why did you
let him live?”

“It just got to the point that . . . It
took a long time to get a gun, and, once I did . . . I realized I couldn’t live
without him.”

“Ha. How romantic.”

Now I really was angry. “You have no idea
what you’re talking about. Gideon would do anything for me.”

“You really believe that?” She sounded
more than skeptical; she sounded ironic.

But there was no doubt in my mind, no
doubt in my heart, that what I’d said was true. “Yes. I really believe that.”

“Ever heard of Stockholm syndrome?”

I sighed, and suddenly all my anger left
me as two things became perfectly clear in my mind. One, I had no more desire
to talk to Alice. Two, whatever Gideon had done in our past, it couldn’t
reverse the fact that I had fallen in love with him.

I could still feel the guilt as this
truth washed over me. I could imagine my father looking away from me. I could
imagine my mother’s heartbroken expression. But the saddest part was that I
almost didn’t care anymore.

I was in love with Gideon.

And I didn’t need to answer any more of
Alice’s questions.

~ * ~

“Come on. Let’s go.” I whispered this in
his ear as sunlight began to touch the windows. His breaths had become shorter,
signaling that he was waking up, even despite my inability to be certain that
he was asleep.

“Has the snow stopped?” he asked, his
voice croaky from slumber.

“Yes. Now, let’s get out of here while
everyone’s still asleep.” Alice had drifted off soon after our conversation.

“Your friend?”

“Already taken care of. I don’t know if
I’d classify her as a friend, exactly.”

Gideon was silent at my words; he stood
and helped me up, then we snuck through the door, opening it as little as
possible so we wouldn’t wake anyone with a cold draft.

Warm sunlight bore down on our skin as
the door soundlessly closed behind us. Green met my eyes.

“What? Where’d the snow go?” I asked,
taking in the non-white forestry.

“I told you it wouldn’t last,” Gideon
replied, playfully nudging me with his elbow. “Let’s get back on course.” He
headed away from the road, right into the trees, and I followed.

We walked for a few hours before either
of us spoke again.

“What happened with your friend?” Gideon
asked.

“She wanted to know what was going on
between us, of course.”

“What did you say?” he asked, showing his
rare curiosity.

“I tried to explain it to her, but she
wasn’t convinced. And then. . .”

“And then?”

“And then I decided it didn’t matter what
she thought.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

“Well, what do
you
think about us, if what
she
thinks doesn’t matter?”

“I think . . .” I took a breath. “I feel
guilty about it, but I . . .” I couldn’t say it! I had only just come to the
conclusion myself, and it was more than a little skewed that I couldn’t find it
in me to forgive him, and yet had decided I was in love with him anyway. I met
his eyes, then quickly looked away again, watching my feet as I walked.

But he stopped walking.

“Candace?”

I stopped, too, turning toward him while
keeping my eyes lowered. But then he stepped in front of me, coming close, our
feet toe to toe; his hand snaked under my chin, raising my eyes to his.

“Do you still hate me?” he asked. His
warm breath caressed my face as his eyes searched mine.

“No,” I murmured, heart pounding at his
proximity.

Eyes still on mine, he leaned in closer.
He traced his nose across my cheek, the end of it cold as his breath continued
to wash over me; one of his hands wrapped around my elbow. Then, suddenly, he
pulled me even closer, his body pressing against every inch of mine. His nose
met my ear, then his lips.

“Is this okay?” he whispered. Oh, his
breath was so warm, and the moisture of it clung to my ear.

My entire body tingled; I felt shaky, and
my heart was about to burst. I closed my eyes.

“Yes,” I finally managed, the word short
and full of nerves.

His lips left my ear, beginning a trail
along my jaw and leaving heat in their wake. He kissed me. His kiss was soft at
first, hesitant. When I didn’t protest, the kiss deepened, as if he were using
it to taste my soul. He kissed me with so much emotion, so much meaning, that
my heart exploded, and then I was kissing him, too.

I had never kissed anyone like this
before. This was completely new, and so welcome. He was familiar and exotic at
the same time. And safe. He was so safe.

He pressed me to a tree and kept kissing
me. He kissed me as if he could never get enough; he kissed me like he would
never stop.

Finally, though, his mouth returned to my
ear. “I love you,” he whispered.

I sucked in a shaky breath, then let it
out. How could I feel nervous and relieved at the same time? I was in the snow,
and I was on the surface of the sun. I was in the air, and I was on the ground.
I was flying, and Gideon was right there with me.

“I love you, too.” I told him.

He pulled back just far enough for me to
see the heartbreakingly large, exquisite smile on his face, and the happy gleam
in his eyes. Then he kissed me some more.

~ * ~

“Do you forgive me?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“But you love me.”

“Yes.”

He played with my fingers as we walked.

We’d done a lot of walking that day, but
we’d done a lot of kissing, too. A
lot
of
kissing. We’d been taking kissing breaks about every three minutes, in fact.

“What’s the biggest reason you haven’t
forgiven me?”

“Guilt.”

“Because I’m guilty?”

“No. I am. I’m guilty of falling in love
with my parents’ killer. What does that say about me?”

“The same thing that not killing me said
about you; you’re looking past my faults and understanding my true character.”

“Yeah. . . But what would my parents
think?”

“I don’t know, but I think they’d want
you to be happy.”

“Or they’d think I was weak.”

“Would they really?”

“Probably not. But I
feel
weak.”

“Weakened by love. But what if you’re
actually stronger for it? You’re an entirely different person than before you
met me, because now you’re part of an ‘us.’ You’re part of a team. And, yes,
that team can be weakened by their reliance on each other, but they can also be
stronger for not being alone.”

“Like our families.”

“Like us.” I caught his eye as he said
this, and then he was kissing me again. After a few minutes he pulled away to
whisper. “
We’re
a family.”

My gut tingled at these words, but I
didn’t reply. We started walking again.

“Why do you love me?” I finally asked.

“Expand on that question.”

“How could you love someone who tried so
hard to kill you?”

“How could you love someone who killed
your parents?”

I shrugged ruefully. “It just happened.
You’re impossible not to love.”

A smile traced his features. “This might
not make much logical sense, but I started loving you almost right away. It was
because you were alone, you were broken, and I could tell you were grasping at
straws in order not to lose yourself to your grief. It was a natural instinct
for me to reach out to you, to want to take care of you. You needed someone
and, even though you hated me, I wanted to be that someone. That very first
day, I didn’t want to send you off, even though you were intent on killing me.
I knew you needed something, even if you thought it was my death, and I didn’t
want to take that away. I’d always hoped enough time would help you realize the
answer wasn’t my death, but something else.

“Eventually, I wanted to be that
something you needed. Then, after a little longer, I simply wanted
you
.”

I blushed under his gaze, looking down.

He kept talking. “I started falling for
you well before you decided not to kill me. I had to constantly remind myself
that you hated me. Though, after a while, that seemed less and less true. You
were a lost, desperate orphan, and I was the only one you could reach out to.
It was inevitable that you’d become reliant on my presence. You weren’t going
to kill me. This was especially clear to me when we were at the carnival.”

“Because of the broken glass,” I replied,
rueful again.

“Not only that, but the maze of mirrors.”
When I thought he’d disappeared. “It hadn’t even occurred to you to break
through the mirrors to get to me, and it didn’t occur to you to simply not
enter the maze, to walk around and meet me on the other size. Your rationality
was choked out by the fear of me abandoning you.

“It was impossible for me to think you
could kill me after that – you would completely fall apart if I wasn’t there
with you. I’d become your life’s focus – even if that focus was initially on my
death, it became simply the idea of me, and then it became me.

“You don’t have to tell me why you fell
in love with me; I watched it happen.”