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10

Vale

Our ride homepassed in silence. Silence between the two of us, at any rate. There was little silence around us, anywhere we went.

It was the weekend, and there were dozens upon dozens of people ready to squeeze into every train. There was a heavy stench everywhere, the stench of human bodies and sweat. How could any of them stand it? Didn’t they smell themselves? Normally, I suffered through ignoring the tantalizing smell of blood. I could barely make it out from everything else assaulting my senses.

She ignored me.

I wasn’t disappointed—in fact, that was as it should be. I should fade into the background to be used when she needed me. Nothing more. We weren’t friends and would never be friends. It wasn’t done.

She would get used to it.

It was easy to forget she was so young.

The witches I had guarded always looked decades younger than they were and possessed a much broader understanding than she did. She knew nothing of my world, of the blood she came from.

I couldn’t hold that against her.

And her feelings did her credit. I could admit that to myself.

She put on a show, pretended to be tough and hard. She hadn’t had an easy life, probably never had friends. No sympathy from her family. It made her wary of showing her true nature. But that nature was there. She was kind, caring, deeply emotional. An artist.

That didn’t make her any easier to handle.

Just my luck.

Why couldn’t I get somebody boring? Even vapid would be better than emotional. Trying to create a relationship where there wasn’t one.

“Are you hungry?” I asked as we walked up the stairs from the last subway ride.

Night was falling by now, and she had only eaten a small muffin while riding into Manhattan hours earlier.

“I’ll live.”

“I didn’t ask if you would live. I asked if you were hungry. I’m sure you’ll live, though from the looks of you there’s no telling for how long.”

“I’m too skinny now? Sorry. I’ll add gaining weight to my list of things that would make your job easier. Right under ignoring you.”

“Good. If I can think if anything else for you to work on, I’ll let you know.”

It was better this way. If I told myself so enough times, I’d even believe it. We were coming up to the corner store.

“Stop in and get yourself something to eat. I would rather not have to leave the apartment again tonight.”

“Do you really have to come with me when I go down to the corner for milk?”

“Yes.” I left it there.

She sighed softly, but kept her mouth shut.

Miracles were possible, after all.

I followed her into the tiny store and walked behind her as she picked up dried pasta, sauce, bread, milk. And more ice cream than any human could crave at one time.

“So you’re hungry,” I observed wryly as she dropped three containers into the basket over her arm.

“You’re the one telling me I’m too skinny.”