Picking up my knife, I follow him, taking my time, deciding how long I’m going to let this secret keep going on. Aiden is setting up a few chairs, like we’re formally dining. Then he heats up two cans of food over a small flame in the middle of the floor where he builds a small fire. When he’s done, he hands me a can and starts eating out of the other, scooping the food out with his hands.
“So how long until you forgive me?” he asks and scoops out a bite of food.
I take a small bite of my food, which tastes more awful than anything I’ve ever tasted. “Forgive you for what?”
He chews on his food. “For lying to you.”
“I already have.” I smile, a big plastic smile, just like I used to do all the time.
He sets his can on the floor. “No, you haven’t.” He scoots closer and looks me in the eye. “I really am sorry, Juniper.”
God, I wish he’d stop calling me that. Something about the way he says it sparkles in my mind and makes it hard to stay angry. I gently rub my finger across where his scar used to be. “I’m sorry I made it go away. I know it meant a lot to you.”
He leans his head against my hand, fearing that I’ll move it, fearing that I won’t forgive him, fearing that I’ll find out whatever it is he’s still keeping locked away.
I take a deep breath, knowing how wrong it is, but needing to know. My lips move for his. He freezes as I catch him off guard. Then he meets me the rest of the way, pressing his lips to mine.
He lets out a moan as our lips melt together, soft and sweet, wanting me so bad he can’t stand it. And I gasp. But not because of the kiss. I gasp because I got exactly what I was seeking.
The truth—what he’s hiding.
I pull away, leaving his lips bare in the air. I jump to my feet and unzip my bag. I pull out the last vial.
I hold it up. “So this can stop it? This can stop me from losing all my strength, my speed, all of who I am?”
He jumps to his feet, knocking over the cans of food. “Why would you want to stop it, Kayla? It isn’t right.”
“Why do you keep lying to me?” I snap. “It’s getting ridiculous.” But really, I’m not any better.
“Because I want you to be human,” he says, his voice begging me to understand—to not be angry with him. “You take that medicine and you’ll turn into one of them—a killer.”
“You mean those half-vampires, half-humans you were talking about.” I eye the bubbling liquid in the vial. “That’s what this will make me?”
“Yeah, that’s the price you have to pay to keep it all,” he spats with anger. “Trade in your life, for something in between.”
“You should have told me,” I say. “Whether you liked it or not, it’s my choice.”
“I couldn’t take away your freedom like that.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing.” My voice is calm, my senses connected to the vial. “By lying and not letting me choose what I want to do. You know, you sit here and preach about freedom, yet you’ve taken away mine.”
“Because you don’t want to be like them.” He’s yelling in my face and I worry that the vampires might hear him. “I know you don’t. You’re too good for that.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss. “And you don’t know what I want.”
“Yes I do.” His voice is as light as a feather, his eyes pleading to be right. “You and I were in love once. Before I was chosen for The Gathering.”
We breathe heavily, so close our bodies almost touch. He wants me to say something, but I can’t. Because this memory he speaks of, I can’t recollect.
“We should probably keep it down,” I say, clutching my hand around the vial. “They might hear us.”
His gaze is so intense I want to hide under a table. “That’s all you have to say?”
The expression on his face reminds me of what Tristan looked like when he asked me to be his forever. “That’s all I can say.” My voice is barely heard over the cries of the vampire’s right outside.
He nods and turns away, walking to the kitchen. I hesitate, and then follow him, taking his arm as he reaches for the back door.
“Stop,” I say. “You can’t go out. Listen to the cries—darkness has already fallen.”
His muscles tense under my touch and his heart skips. “You want to know why you shouldn’t take the medicine. Why I think it’s so horrible?”
I eye the back door, scratched with the remains of a vampire passing through. “Yeah, but I—”
“Then I’ll show you.” He unlocks the door and cautiously cracks it open. He takes a deep breath and sticks his head out. Then he opens the door and steps out into the night.
“Are you insane?” I grab the bottom of his shirt and pull him back inside. “You can’t go out there.”
“You sound afraid, Juniper,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “I thought you said you were never afraid.”
I let go of his shirt. “I’m not afraid for me. I’m afraid for you.”
“I’ll be fine,” he insists. “We’re not going that far.”
I shake my head as he tiptoes down the alley, blending in with night. Keeping my footsteps light, I tail after him. I hold out my knife as we near the end of the building. Aiden closes his eyes, his back to the wall, as he counts under his breath.
“Go ahead,” he whispers, nodding his head. “See what you have to sacrifice to keep your amazing fighting skills.”
Something inside my chest squeezes as I lean forward and peek into the street. The fires lighting up the night burn fiercely. Vampires roam the sidewalks, scrounging through dumpsters, cars, buildings, hunting for blood.
I turn back. “All I see are vampires.”
“Then look closer,” he whispers nervously glancing down the alley.
I take a deep breath and look back out. Vampires. Everywhere. Shrieking and biting at each other. Their eyes bleed, lifeless corpses of flesh, so desperate for hunger that they’ll sometimes feed off themselves. I think I’m starting to get his point.
“We can go back,” I say and he nods, darting for the back door.
“So I’d be like the vampires?” I ask. “That’s the price I have to pay.”
“You wouldn’t look like one.” He locks the back door, checking it twice. “But you’d be like them, always looking for the next kill. And you don’t have to pay the price,” he says. “You can choose to just be you.”
“It’s time for you to just be Kayla.” One of Monarch’s last words before he died.
“So Bernard’s one of them now?” I ask. “Or were you lying about that too.”
“No, he took the medicine.” His voice is venomous. “He made the choice.”
“But he didn’t know what he was doing,” I say. “We should have tried to help him.”
“We did,” he says. “Where do you think those scratch marks came form on the hillside.”
“He’s there,” I say, relieved.
“Was there.” Aiden leans against the door. “We had to turn him loose.”
I shake my head. “So he’s dead.”
“It depends,” he replies, standing up straight. “If the others found him,” he pauses, “It had to be done—he would have hurt someone, Kayla.” He takes my arm, but I shrug it off.
“Does The Colony know about all this?” I ask. “About these half breeds?”
He shakes his head. “I think that everyone just assumes we’re all dead.”
“Even the Highers?”
“Especially the Highers.” He motions for me to follow him back to our pathetic little fire where we sit down on the rotted floorboards. “I think the Highers want us all dead for some reason—that’s why we end up in body bags,” he says. “I think that that’s what’s really supposed to happen at The Gathering. Were supposed to be killed, thrown into body bags, and tossed into the infirmary.”
“Then why doesn’t it happen?” I ask, thinking of how Maci spoke of Angels. “Do you think someone’s intervening?”
He nods, the fire glowing against his honey eyes. “I think someone makes it look like we’ve died, so they can toss us in the desert and we can be on our way to go on living how we want.”
“Maci said something about seeing an Angel,” I say. “She said it was what gave her the vials.” A pause. “Do you know what or who it is?”
“I already told you I didn’t.”
I eye him over. “I was just double-checking.”
He sighs, reaching for his bag. “Well, I really don’t know.”
“She also said the Angel helped Taggart,” I say. “Do you think he has something to doing with it? My last day he was freaking out because I didn’t stay locked up in the hospital.”
“Taggart?” Aiden questions “You think Taggart could be the one making us all look like we’re dead?”
“He could be the one taking us out into the desert, though,” I say. “But I’m not sure he knows enough about death to make us look like we’re dead.” There’s only one person in The Colony who I know who could do something like that. “I’d say it was Monarch, but he was... He died right before The Gathering.”
He props his back pack against the wall and leans back. “Are you sure about that? Because if he is the one who was making us look dead, then maybe he did it to himself.”
I don’t answer, remember all the feelings I felt when I found out he was dead. But it was never really said if he was. Yes, Gabrielle implied it, but I never actually saw any proof. Why hadn’t I gotten proof, instead of just accepting?
“What would you do,” I say. “If I did turn into one of those half-breeds? If I chose to die? Would you hate me?”