Page 14 of Worse Fates (Soulmates Suck #1)

I sprint from the mansion and out into the country faster than the rain can fall. No direction, no plan, just the weight of Golden's shattered expression on my back. I push myself harder, legs burning from the strain and embracing the cold slicing into me for what it is; a punishment.

Never had I fought with a soulmate. But worse than that; I’d hurt Golden. My words were pointlessly cruel, aimed at the heart of his insecurities, all because of what? To win an argument?

But…

Damnit, aren’t I entitled to my own anger?

A growl forces its way out from between my ribs, reaching up towards the overhanging trees. Why did Golden have to keep pushing the way he did?

Do you even know who you are?

I halt mid-stride, the world jumping back into place like a snapped rubber band. Standing, head thrown back as rain cuts down my cheeks, I try to make sense of my rushing thoughts.

I know who I am.

Or I did.

Before apathy began to sink cold claws into my skin, and each year those deadly points pierced deeper, until I feared my heart would be skewered. Then I’d be no better than Vidar; a bitter husk.

Golden cured all that, and when I brought him into the safety of my home I’d been elated, even given the circumstances.

Yet...

“Fuck,” I spit.

Golden had been shaking, wet from rain and dealing with so much. Hadn’t he been through enough? Yet… yet what had I done but demand he love me back? I’d been so desperate to rid myself of apathy, but ..

My fingers rake through my hair, eyes squeezing shut.

Golden didn’t need a lover, he needed a friend.

Suddenly, there is only one person I want to confide in.

I change direction and dash deeper into the country, concrete roads soon replaced with dirt. Cottages and parked cars swap with bushes, their leaves quaking in the brewing storm.

I find the farmhouse easily enough—a picturesque one story thatched cottage, with white walls and framed with black pillars. As I walk the brick path towards a muted red door, flowers, though drained of colour in the weather, perfume the air.

The door shuts behind me with a click and I make my way across wooden floors; following an odd trail of glittering broken glass leading towards the bathroom.

Hinges squeak as I enter. The room is large with a porcelain toilet and sink, which has the remains of a shattered mirror scattered across it.

“Vidar.”

I find him naked in an empty clawfoot bath, staring blankly. Moonlight peaks through the heavy clouds, bathing him in a silvery glow.

“How long has apathy been with me?”

he asks, a shake of emotion somewhere inside his scratched throat.

“Eight years.”

Eyelids slowly cover his bloodshot eyes as a sigh, heavy enough to bring me to my knees, escapes his rattling lungs.

“I had no idea.”

I lean against the wall, watching my Maker.

He had no mirrors in the mansion, the days and weeks and months slipping past his fingers without notice. Gone was the Norse warrior vampire; he tempted women with ease and no rival could out fight, or out drink, him. After so long, seeing his bone-thin face must have been a shock. Did he even recognise his own reflection?

“Did you kill Rurik?”

Vidar asks quietly.

Walking towards the small, frosted, window, my shoes tap against the tiles.

“Rurik lives, as does my mate.”

Vidar’s head drops back, eyelids opening as another sigh rattles from him. I don’t bother hiding my shock; Vidar hasn’t cared for any of his children for so long.

Is my Maker, friend and father and companion through these long centuries, returning?

“So you aren’t here to kill me. Why the late night visit, then?”

He glances my way.

“Surely you should have your pretty mate in your arms.”

Running my fingers across the ghastly pink wallpaper, patterned with cabbages, of all things, I wonder briefly where Ramy acquired the house.

“He does not want me.”

A frown pulls Vidar’s skin uncomfortably tight.

“He’s your soulmate.”

“‘A factory-made copy’ were his words.”

I try for sarcastic but end up sounding sad and very tired.

“He thinks I can’t love him, because I loved the others.”

“He doesn’t feel the connection?”

“He does, and deeply.”

I remember the way he clung to me when we first met, desperate for my touch as I was desperate for his. I explain the rest of the events from the past few days to my Maker, then breathe out as I add.

“Then we fought tonight and it was… ugly.”

A dusty chuckle leaves Vidar, a sound like he’s clearing his throat of cobwebs.

“I can’t imagine you fighting with your mates. Good for him.”

Stunned, I reply.

“Good for him?”

Vidar shrugs, a spark of light glinting in his pale grey eyes.

“You’ve finally got someone with a backbone, I like it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You lose yourself in your mates, Luc. The relationship becomes more about them than you.”

He pins me with a stare strong enough that for a moment, it’s like having the old warrior back in the room with me.

“You loved them, of course. But why did they love you?”

I push myself up, shaking my head.

“They deserved to be happy, they were only here for a short time.”

“And whose fault was that?”

My back goes rigid.

“I did not, and I will not, risk any of them dying an agonising death simply because—”

Vidar raises an eyebrow. “Because?”

My fist slams against the ugly wallpaper.

“...Because the weight of immortality has been getting heavier and heavier…”

In the following silence, after revealing my not-so-secret, wind whistles through the house’s old bones. An owl hoots somewhere far away and a full cloud drifts in front of the moon; leaving us in darkness.

“You always lost them, Luc,”

Vidar tells me, gentler than I would’ve expected.

“Watching your brother's painful death was awful, but that didn’t mean your mates would’ve died, too. You suffered for centuries, when you could’ve been happy.”

“I was happy with each one,”

I whisper, head bowed.

Vidar scoffs.

“I know, I saw.”

The cloud passes and cold light fills the space once again.

“What do you mean?”

I ask, dropping my hand and turning to face him.

Vidar pauses, then says.

“You loved them all, I know. But were you never bothered when Francisco tested your relationship by flirting with others? Or Tristan's foul moods when he couldn’t paint? Or the fact Samuel spent more time ashamed of loving another man, than happy with you?”

Glaring, I take a step forward.

“Everyone has faults if you lay it out like that. Would you like me to list yours?” I spit.

There is a coughing hacking sound, and for a moment I worry Vidar’s on death’s door. But with a start I realise he’s…laughing.

“We’d be here all night if you did. The love you shared with each of your mates was beautiful. But they were still people, Luc, as you are still a man.”

Vidar pauses.

“This new mate of yours, what's he like?”

An image of Golden blushing when I caught his jealousy flashes in my mind. “Sweet,”

I tell him, not able to contain my smile.

“He felt bad when he realised you were a man, and not some ghoul.”

Vidar raises an eyebrow in question.

“I know, I was surprised, too.”

My heart lifts as I speak of him.

“But bless him, he said you needed help. And you couldn’t help the way you looked.”

Vidar snorts.

“Don’t remind me of my appearance.”

“Is that why all your mirrors are broken?”

Vidar waves a hand to keep the conversation on track.

“Your mate.”

I want to push the issue, but I haven’t seen Vidar this active in so long I decide against it.

“He’s curious, sensitive, funny, but he’s been through a lot.”

“And you had a fight,”

Vidar points out, smirking.

“I’m glad to see someone’s enjoying my misery.”

Another hacking laugh.

“Misery does love company.”

Despite the topic at hand, I find myself offering him a quick smile.

“Golden thinks I don’t know him, so how can I love him?”

I dismiss the idea with a scoff.

“It’s ridiculous.”

“His name is Golden?”

he asks, deep voice raspy.

“That it is.”

Vidar’s bones crack as he stretches out in the tub.

“Your mate, Golden, has a point.”

I groan.

“Not you, too.”

Vidar grins, and behind his sharp teeth and bloodless lips, I spot the old, charming, Norsemen. For a time we stay silent as we watch grey clouds travel across the star spotted sky, the air clean with the scent of wet soil.

“When you said I lose myself in my mates,”

I begin.

“what did you mean?”

“I think I explained myself already.”

I incline my head at my Maker, encouraging him to say more.

He releases a weary sigh.

“I meant I understood that a mate comes first, even above family.”

I linger on his words, think back to when I met my first mate, and the mess I was after losing him.

“I always thought you made Rurik because you wanted me to have a companion after Francisco.”

Vidar lifts one half-hearted shoulder.

Inspecting Vidar, I’m thrown back to the past; he found me in Spain while on the run with my brother from an angry husband, more than one, if I’m to be truthful. Back then Sen, Vidar’s first offspring, travelled with him and they both found my predicament funny.

I’d been penniless, homeless and without prospect; so of course I’d laughed with the two at my own misfortune.

He’d asked if I wanted a new adventure and how could I turn him down? In the years that followed we shared much, but then…maybe we didn’t share enough.

A new moonbeam shines bright into the room.

“Sen had left us to travel alone and you were lonely when I found Francisco, weren’t you?”

I ask gently.

Vidar grunts noncommittally.

“And when I found Tristan you lost me again, but this time you had Rurik for company. But when I met Samuel and Rurik found his mate you…you had no one.”

Vidar’s gaze drops to his legs.

“My problems aren’t yours.”

I smile sadly, I didn’t want Golden to be burdened with my problems, either.

When I stay silent, Vidar grunts.

“My apathy was in the beginning stages. You lost Samuel and we both know the tragedy of Rurik’s mate. Sen had left, again. Our family was falling apart and I didn’t know how to stop it. I was desperate to cure my apathy. Then I stumbled across Ramy…he was so different from you all…gentle. I hoped, foolishly, that something within me would change.”

I move slowly to the tub, kneeling to be on his level.

“Why have you never turned a woman into a vampire, Vidar?”

Vidar stares out of the window.

“You weren’t the only vampire looking for your soulmate, offspring. It was easier to turn men who could only ever be a friend.”

I follow Vidar’s gaze.

“Loving someone means you share not just the good, but the bad.”

Maybe that’s why Golden appeared relieved when I finally got angry.

Turning back to my maker’s withered face, I say.

“I think changes are in order for our family. Too long we’ve hidden ourselves, and for what reason? I agreed to share an eternal life with you and it’s time I make amends for my ignorance. Rejoin the world, Maker. You brought me to life with blood once long ago, let me repay you for that debt.”

Vidar’s mouth tugs up, it’s a brittle smile but real.

“Offering you eternal life was a gift I gave willingly, and I’ve been happy with you at my side, despite my current form.”

When our eyes meet this time, I see the many memories we’ve shared together and one—maybe the most important one—is the clearest; a moonlit night, my mouth filling with his blood as he promises me a new life.

“Drink.”

I lift my wrist to my Maker’s mouth.

He hesitates, fear of rejoining a world he abandoned trembling in his exhale. But I do not waver, neither did he long ago. When jagged fangs slice into my wrist, I hold strong—after all, he once told me birth, even rebirth, is painful.