Page 65 of The Vampire Debt

Alaric is dressed as usual, only with the addition of an overcoat in such a deep shade of red it almost looks black. Along the ends of his sleeves and trimming the collar is an even darker material with a subtle black damask pattern.

“You’re leaving,” I say.

He nods. “I have business I must take care of and won’t return until late.”

I drop my legs off the edge of the bench, making room for him. He sits, one leg propped up so he can face me.

“Is that all?” I ask when he doesn’t speak.

Even without his fangs bared or the ring of red that comes out when he wants to feed, there is something unearthly about him, something very vampire. I find that realization interesting, as the vampireness of him doesn’t repulse me as it once did. In fact, it has somehow given him an endearing quality.

And while I do hate vampires because there is still one out there responsible for Mother’s death… I find that I cannot hatethisman as I wanted to believe I did and could.

I bite down on my lip as my breath catches. I don’t know if this change is because of what happened last night in the music room or if it is because he nearly died protecting me when I tried to run away. He was hurt because of me.

“I wanted to say goodbye before I left,” he says. “And to talk to you about something else.”

Alaric looks young, uncertain, and it doesn’t suit him. He’s avoiding saying whatever it is he has come to say and that makes me nervous. What can he say that is so terrible that neither of us would like it?

My blood chills at what he isn’t saying and part of me dreads that he will bring up last night. Neither of us have even tried to talk about what we almost did, how far we could have gone.

“Go on.” I tighten my hands into fits in my lap, my nails digging into my palms.

“Soon there will be things that happen that are outside of my control, and you will be in danger as you are unmarked…” he trails off, lifting his head. A lock of hair to falls across his brow.

My heart thuds against my ribs.

“Do you wish for me to mark you? It will make it known to any others who might cross your path that they cannot lay a finger on you, and it will allow you to resist compulsion. Most importantly, it will mean that no other can punish you for killing a vampire should anyone find out.”

They are all good points, I know logically that they are, especially if I want to stay alive. And there is every reason in the world to agree to such a thing.

Except one: It would mean I couldn’t leave him. I could never go home to Kathrine ever again.

“No,” I say quickly.

My stomach turns, watching his face fall in disappointment. “Clara, you have murdered a vampire, youknowwhat that means. When they find out, they will punish you. Even I cannot stop them from finding out the truth. You will most likely die at their hands, and there will be nothing I can do to stop that from happening.”

“I understand… but I can’t accept a mark,” I say. I twist the hem of my sleeve around my finger, over and over. Then I ask a question that has been bothering me for some time. “Why do you care so much about one vampire you didn’t even know? Humans die every day at the hands of your kind.”

The pain is back in his eyes in an instant, pain and anger and… heartbreak. “She wasn’t just any vampire,” he says after a long moment. “She loved humans, refused to even drink their blood, and it made her weak.”

I finally understand his anger, his hate, his frustration. I took someone from him as a vampire had taken my mother from us.

“I didn’t want to see Kitty die at the hands of a vampire like Mother,” I say. “I was only trying to protect my sister.”

“So was I.” His voice comes out choked and laden with emotion.

I don’t know what he means at first but then, slowly, it comes into focus. The vampire I killed had been his sister. My entire world shifts at that. I had always been so consumed by my hate that I didn’t stop to think it could make me into what I hated, that there could be good and terrible vampires as there are humans.

Alaric stands abruptly. “I must go now, the hour grows late.”

Then he takes his leave without another word. I want to stop him and say so many things, but sayingI’m sorry for killing your sisterseems far too inadequate a sentiment. At any rate, he’s gone before I can even begin to find my voice.

I stay at the window seat for a while longer before roaming the manor, too distracted to read, and too guilty to eat.

“Miss,” Elise’s voice startles me.

I spin to face her.