The Knight Of The Rose (44 page)

me, like a long, fingering shadow.

“Ah!” I screamed, whipping around to face the nightmare. The shadow screeched, erupting

into a vast cape and spreading out before my eyes like a splash of black paint.

My arms grabbed the air behind me, forcing my shoulders to twist away from the sinis ter

shape as my heels spun slowly over the cold, glassy ground; with the weight of a body trapped under

water, I ran—lost in the slow motion pull as I fled the darkness—leaving the rose and the blood

alone behind me.

The shadow hovered, closing the gap quickly—announcing its presence at my spine wit h a

warm breath over the back of my neck. As I turned my head, my feet caught s omething beneath me

and the shadow overtook, smothering me as I fell; my hands splayed, failing to catch me before the

ground met my face and a tight, dull ache blotted my mind into white.

“Ara, my love? Can you hear me?”

I could hear hi m—but he could no longer hear me. I sat in the dark again, shi vering from

what I could only assume was another nightmare, making myself smaller in case it had been real and

might still be watching. I had no way to hide, lost out in the open space of never-ending darkness.

I understood then; I was a prisoner in their world. David was right beside me, and I couldn’t

even look at him—couldn’t even hold him. They’d never let me go; I belonged to them now.

“Ara!” David’s hand swept my br ow, desperation rising up in his contr olled tone. “S’il te

plait mon amour, lute, bats toi pour vivre.”

No. No more.
I shook my head and rested it on my knees.
I’m so defeated. I can’t fight

anymore. I’m just too tired..
.

“I’ve lost her,” the words trembled from his lips. “Mike, I’ve lost her.”

No. I’m here, I’m still here
, I whispered with weakened resolve.

As if David had felt me give up, his cold hand sl ipped behind my neck and lifted my head.

“Ara? My love, I’ve lost you again.” A wave of panic stole the smooth, milky sound of his voice; his

arms wrapped me tightly, his hands searching, touching every inch of me as if to caress me back to

life. Then, as the panic reduced to realisation, his hands slowed and his chest shook; a cold drop

of liquid fell onto my forehead.

“Ara, please? Fight. I can’t lose you.”

I’m so sorry, David. I loved you—you were
everything
to me. I’m so sorry I never got to tell

you I’d change for you.

He took a deep, strained breath and pressed his lips to the top of my head. “Je vous en prie,

Dieu, sauvez-la.” He took another laboured breath and sobbed. “S'il vous plaît, ne l'enlevez pas loin

de moi. Ne me l'enlevez pas.”

His words hung in the back of my mind, resonating with a tone of understanding; as if I were

right in front of him, they looped around me, pulling me into him, and as I touched my face to his

chest, they became suddenly very clear; “I’m begging you, God, save her . Don’t take her fr om me,

don’t take her away.”

His devastation broke my heart. Oh David. I’m so sorry. I love you. If you can hear me,

please know that. Please take care of Mike—tell him I love him, too. It’s just...it’s time for me to let

go now. This is for the best.

He didn’t answer. I needed him to answer ju st one more time—just so I knew he heard me,

heard how much I loved him, heard the words I wished I’d said when he asked me to change for him.

David? Can you hear me?

Nothing…

David?
My throat hurt when spoke.

“Ara?” Something moved under me as he spoke—my body, I c ould feel my body, f eel the

bulky, uneven surface I was laying on. A cold grip held my waist, tig htening ever so slightly every

second. “Ara?”

“David?” I tried again; I could hear the terror in my cry, but it was real—my voice—it came

from somewhere different than it had before.

David laughed from behind me. “Yes. Yes, my love. Yes. You’re talking. Open your eyes,”

he spoke into the side of my face.

They’re closed?
Gravity pulled my skin, dragging it down. I fought against t he push and

lifted my eyelids, blinking rapidly.

Bright. Light. Tears rushed to my irises to protect them from this new experience, burning my

vision into a white blur. I couldn’t focus on anything, but I l oved it more than the breath I could

suddenly feel through my lips.

“David?” I smiled. “Am I...am I out?”

“Oui, mon amour, oui, you’re safe.”

“You...you saved me. You pul led me out.” I held his hand tight over my belly as the gift of

sight restored and I felt his arms become the cold that was restraining befo re. His chest shook under

me; tears dripped from his chin be side my ear and fell on to my shoulder as I took in the room. A

white room, a bed, a chair—a glass window looking onto the corridor of a hospital.

“What...happened, David?”

“I—” he started, but couldn’t finish.

“We lost you, baby,” said Mike.

Oh, Mike! That’s when I felt my heart—it was still beating, and it was strong. “Mike?”

“Yes, I’m here, Ara—I’m right here.” He appeared then, by my side. The warmth, the hand I

felt in my darkness—it was Mike. I didn’t imagine it.

“I don’t understand. What am I doing in a hospital?” I asked, rubbing my face.

David looked at Mike, then they both looked at me. “You lost a lot of blood—they had to put

you on a life support system.” Mike’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Okay, but, what happened to me?” My memory hit the foggy wall of perplexity. I don’t even

remember getting up this morning.

“It wasn’t this morning.” David answered my thought.

“When?”

“Ara, you’ve been in a coma f or three months.” Mike’s voice trembled; he turned away so I

couldn’t see his face, but I only had to see his shoulders shaking to know he was crying.

What? Three months? I tried to look around the room to get my bear ings. Three months? I

felt nothing then, except the t hrobbing in my finger from where the thorn of the rose had broken the

skin. David squeezed my hand, and I noticed the white rose then, sitting on the floor—discarded

and unimportant—lost to the world I was in, a world I would never be going back to.

But how did I get there—how did I lose three months of my life?

“Okay.” I took a few deep breaths, bringing myself to terms with this new information. “So, a

coma—but why? How did I get in a coma?” I swallowed to moisten my dry throat.

Mike’s shoulders rolled forward even more.

“Mike?”

He just shook his head, refusing to look at me.

What happened? Did I have another accident? Am I hideously scarred again? I looked down

at my hands, felt my face, my throat, checking for something, anything that would give me a clue.

Then, I fel t the s ilky, lumpy rise of gathered skin on my neck, and as I looked down, to

nothing in particular, saw the horrid parallel lines of raised pink skin down the length of my forearm.

I drew a breath, tracing the scar with wide eyes, afraid to touch it—not sure if it was really there, or

if this was some nightmare. “Did I do this to myself”

Mike let out the sob he’d been trying to hold back, and David held his breath, cr adling me in

his arms—pressing his cheek firmly to mine with as much intensity as his grip around my waist .

Then, with a wash of cold trepidation, the memory hit me.

Jason did it?

David squeezed me tighter.

I rubbed my head, letting the tears spill out over my lashes.
Jason. He—he hurt me. The cold.

The dark. I remember.
My chest moved rapidly with each panicked breath.

“Shh, hush, my love, it’s, it’s going to be okay,” David said.

“What’s happening?” Mike leaned over me and, placing his hand on my forehead, studied my

face as I fell apart inside. “Why is she breathing like that?”

David moved out from under me and laid me down, studying me carefully.

“Get the nurse,” Mike ordered David, moving a pillow out from under my head.

“No!” I held my hand out, taking deeper, more controlled breaths. “No, I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“Ara, you’re as white as a ghost.” Mike folded himself around me, and the warm smell of

home reminded me that I was safe, that was okay now and the darkness was gone—Jason was gone.

I rested my chin in the curve of his neck while I looked at David.

David?

He looked at me, his emerald-green eyes shining from under his low-pulled brow.

Did he find me, David? Did Mike find me?
I clutched Mike’s shoulder tight ly, studying

David’s face for proof of a lie, tr ying to feel my heart beating—to steady it—but after months of

sensory deprivation, everything was so loud and so bright. I couldn’t feel it beating anymore.

David closed his eyes, nodding, and looked away.

I knew what Mike would’ve seen, I knew what David would’ve seen in Mike’s head—even

he
couldn’t look at me. “I’m sorry, Mike,” I cried. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

Mike let out a gust of air and his sad gaze drew me in as he pulled back. Tears streamed over

his cheeks, his eyes falling stunned into the silence that stopped on his lips. “Ar, I...I...”

My cheeks flushed with heat; I turned my face away.

“No.” Mike took my chin in his fingers and made me look at him. “No, Ara, You have

nothing
to be sorry for. You di d nothing wrong. This is something that was done to you.” Mi ke

sighed and looked down for a second. “He didn’t do anything else, Ara. The man who took you. He

didn’t—” Mike couldn’t even say the words.

“He was going to do it.” I looked at David; he closed his eyes.

“I know, baby. But...I think we scared him off. That’s what the cops are saying.”

“He bit me.” I touched my neck.

“Yes.” Mike’s eyes, with desperat ion hiding in the corner s, met mi ne. “Do you remember

anything else?”

I looked at David, who lif ted his head when he read my thought;
He bit me, does that mean

I’m a...?

He shook his head.

I’m not a vampire?

He closed his eyes and shook his head again.

My breathing slowed entirely; I lowered my head and r ested my hand across my lips .
Why?

Why aren’t I dead, then? He bit me. I should be dead, right?

Our gazes locked again; David nodded.

“You were strong, Ara,” Mike started, “I found you—in the dark.” He stared into the distance

as his face contorted with the obvious imagery in his mind.

Reflexively, I looked at the jagged pink scar littering my skin from the base of my palm up

half the length of my forearm.

“Do you remember who at tacked you?” Mike asked, looking at the bite-slash-tear, then at

David. My eyes fell on David’s face, too. It was so good to finally see him again. All I wanted was

for him to hold me—to make all of this better.
What do I tell him, David?

“If you remember, Ara, you can tell us,” David said, though his eyes said the opposite.

I shook my head. “I don’t remember anything.”

Mike moistened his dry lips, th en wiped a palm across his mouth. “I wish I’d never let you

out of my si ght—just a split second was all i t took. I just—I was watching you. I was right there

and...” He bit his knuckle for a second. “I tried to get to you—but he was gone.”

“It’s not your fault, Mike,” I whis pered; it was all I coul d do to console him. My throat hurt

and the muscles under my jaw felt strained.

“I should’ve protected you. It was my job, Ara.” Mike looked at David for a second. “They

say you have the same mark on your neck as that kid who died—Nathan?”

What? He died from a vampire bite?

David nodded.

A vampire? Not you? David? You didn’t do it, did you?

He closed his eyes. Mike studied the both of us exchanging our private words. I looked away

from Mike, and my wide eyes studied every inch of David’ s face. There’s no way Davi d killed

Nathan. I can’t believe that. I
won’t
believe it.

David looked up and smiled; his warm eyes softened as he opened them and muttered,

“Thank you,” under his breath.

“They just can’t understand why—i f it was the same guy—why Nathan didn’t report an

attack. Ara, you shouldn’t be alive right now. Your attacker was carrying some rare tropical disease.

You died!”

“I died?”

“Yes. They pronounced you dead. You flat-lined, they took out the breathing apparatus, and

you died. But then, the monitor—” he looked at the small screen behind me, “it started beeping

again—you kept going. Somehow, you found a way.”

The memory of the darkness filled my mind; the air became thick and hard to inhale as I tried

to escape the nightmare infecting my thoughts again. I looked down at my hand. “My ring?”

“It’s here.” Mike pulled it from his pocket and held it up; it looked so small and fragile in his

broad, strong fingers.

“I thought I’d lost it. All this time, in the darkness, I thought I’d lost it.” My voice quivered as

the reality of being alive set in.

David closed his eyes and looked away when Mike slipped the ring back onto my finger. I

had no time to stop him—it just happened, and the hurt on David’s face tore my heart as it dropped

into my stomach.

“They wouldn’t let you keep it on,” Mike said softly. “But I kept it close to me every day.”