Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

THE SAFE ZONE

I wake to Kyle shaking me. ‘Hey, sleepyhead. You'll miss the day if you don't get up soon.'

The fog of sleep clears and I remember where I am, what's happening. I sit up, running a hand through my hair.

‘How do you feel?' Kyle's hand slides along my back.

‘Fine.' I do. Whether it's the sleep or the bone broth or my supposed healing powers, I feel good as new. Or maybe it's Kyle. I give him a fond glance as I wash using the jug and bowl, drying myself with the soft white towel folded on the small shelf underneath. I get dressed then go back to the bed and lie down again.

‘Having second thoughts?'

I shake my head, even though I'm scared. I've never been anywhere without a guard, never been anywhere during the daytime, and now I'm about to do both, in a world I have no idea how to navigate.

‘I wish you could come with me.' I nestle into his shoulder, breathing his violet scent.

‘You know I can't.' He holds onto me, though, as though he doesn't want me to go.

‘What if I slip up?'

‘You won't. You're too smart for that.' He strokes my hair. ‘But if you do, tell them you're free range, wild. That you live with me in the night.'

‘B-but Ruth knows you.'

‘She does, but she hasn't seen me for a while. Things change.'

I say nothing.

‘Hey, Emelia. You'll be fine. This is an adventure, remember? The start of a new life. Daylight awaits.' He's right. I might be scared, but there's excitement as well. I want to see it. I just wish he could, too. He nips my neck and I jump. ‘I have to stay here, you know that. So go, enjoy yourself.'

‘I wish you could see the sun.'

He half smiles. ‘I remember,' he says. ‘And I'll be here when you get back.' He kisses me, intense. My eyes squeeze shut as though to capture every ounce of essence, my lips on his until the last moment. Then he lies back, and his silver eyes close. There's a knock on the door.

‘Morning, Emily. Are you ready?'

I am. Despite the fact that this could go wrong in so many ways, I'm ready.

‘I'm coming out.' Opening the door, I slide through the smallest gap possible, though the hallway is still dark. I make sure the door is shut, then follow Ruth into her living room.

Where the shutters are open.

My hand goes up involuntarily, my eyes dazzled. I've seen the sun rise, but this is different. This is the blazing light of morning. I resist the urge to hide, to retreat to the shadows. I am not my mother.

‘Here, try these.' Something hard is thrust into my hand. I squint to see a pair of glasses, the lenses tinted dark. I put them on and the relief is instant.

‘Thanks.'

Ruth is regarding me curiously. ‘You never seen this before?'

I shake my head, careful not to dislodge the glasses. ‘No. I er… I live in the night.'

‘With Kyle? You been together long?'

‘A little while.' For a second I want to be back with Kyle in the darkness of the safe room. It feels as if the brilliant white light is laying me bare, that Ruth, kind as she is, can see to the heart of me. ‘He looks after me.'

Ruth's face crinkles up. ‘Just be careful.' She lays a gentle hand on my arm. ‘If he tires of you, come here. Be safe.'

I frown. ‘Uh, thank you.'

She stares at me a moment longer, then her face splits in a grin. ‘Shall we go? There's a lot to see, if you've never been here.'

I follow her back into the hallway. She opens her front door, standing silhouetted in the frame. I can feel the light now, warm on my skin despite the November cold. For the first time in my life, I can't smell violets.

Outside, on the small veranda, the flowers on the potted plants are open, soft purple and yellow petals bright. Light is everywhere, turning the red bricks a glowing orange, sparking off the windows, the silver buckles on my jacket. My skin is blinding white, gleaming, almost how my mother looks. Despite how I feel about her there's a pang, that she's never known, will never know, what this looks like or how it feels. I slide the glasses down, but it's too bright and I hastily poke them back up to the bridge of my nose.

‘You have pretty eyes, Emily.' Ruth is smiling. ‘Shimmery. Quite unusual.'

I go cold. Perhaps there's enough vampire in me that my eyes are different. Perhaps I smell different. I start to panic, then realise that there's no chance any other vampire will see me, not until I'm back with Kyle and under his protection.

So I shrug one shoulder and half smile. ‘Thanks.'

We walk along a street with houses either side, some with pretty gardens edged with small hedges, others with smooth paving. There aren't many cars, and the ones I do see look old and weathered – some with rust or paint peeling, nothing like my family's sleek black Mercedes. One goes past, moving slowly, the engine rumbling and coughing. I watch it pass.

‘Emily?'

‘Oh! Sorry. It's just…' I don't know how to finish. Ruth's head is slightly tilted, her arms folded. ‘Oh, well, the cars. They're… a bit different.'

‘To what you're used to?'

I take in a short breath. How can she know what I'm used to? ‘Uh, well, we don't really drive much.'

‘Neither do we, anymore. You know how it is. Petrol is in such short supply, and the vamps tend to keep what there is for their own use. And of course, we're not really making much of it anymore.'

‘Right.' I fold my lips tight over my other questions, trying not to stare at everything. But the sky! It's wide and high and blue, but not the dark navy of night. This blue is brilliant, shading to white gold where the sun shines. And the sun is another wonder – far brighter than the moon, so bright I can't really look at it, even with glasses on. White clouds drift like puffs of smoke and it feels limitless, as though I could push off from the ground and float up, surrounded by blue light, spinning in the bright fresh air.

‘You're really not used to this, are you?'

‘Er, no, I guess not.' I pause. ‘Is that weird?' I'm glad of the dark glasses covering my eyes.

Ruth shrugs. ‘Well, it's unusual, to meet someone who lives in darkness all the time. Though I suppose there must be other humans like you. We need sunlight, you know? Didn't your parents ever take you out during the day?'

‘No.' I try to think of a plausible lie. ‘They, um, they were blood dancers. So, they were up mostly at night. And I guess I was, too. Then I met Kyle and it seemed easier, to just keep going with that.'

Ruth nods, the sun glinting gold off her mousy hair. ‘So your parents aren't around anymore?'

‘No.' I silently beg my parents' forgiveness for the lie. ‘However, they asked Kyle to look after me.' That's true, at least.

‘Hm.' She doesn't look at me. ‘And he's good to you?'

‘Yes.' Another truth.

‘Good.'

We reach an intersection, Ruth taking the left turn, the road widening. Another car passes, string holding the door closed, cardboard covering one of the side windows. I think of the deserted dark roads I used to travel, soft leather and curving glass keeping me safe, of the cars I've seen in movies, shiny and bright, filled with laughing people.

We need sunlight. Ruth's words roll through my mind, along with anger. My mother tried her best, I suppose. But the fact is that I've been kept in the dark my entire life, in more ways than one.

‘Where are we going?' The buildings are becoming larger, like square boxes with large windows. Some of the windows are cracked. Behind one, a group sits around a large table while a man stands at the head, his arms out as he addresses them. I can barely take it all in. It's as though the films I used to watch, alone in the library, have come to life. Sunlight dapples through bare branches, the buildings with their signs and people moving to and fro, even the cars, old and worn as they are, adding to the illusion.

For that's what it is. I'm becoming uncomfortably aware that these people are trapped, that this isn't the sunny life of freedom I'd imagined. Where else can they go? With each step I take, my anger builds. I feel as though I understand their desire for rebellion a little more.

‘I thought I'd take you to the beach,' says Ruth, cutting into my thoughts.

I stare. ‘The beach?'

The road has been rising as we walk, the blue sky arcing above. We reach the crest of the rise and I gasp. The sea.

I saw the sea, once, on the way home from a Gathering. My parents had stopped the car, letting me out to see. It was dark, of course, only a sliver of moon, the sea like lace and velvet, endlessly moving. I still remember the smell of salt, the way the wind stung my face and tangled in my hair, the pull of water in my own blood, echoed in my heartbeat.

Standing at the top of the hill, I feel that same pull again. Houses cluster along the seafront, coloured dots of people moving along the streets and on the golden curve of sand. I push my glasses back on my head, taking it all in. Nothing has prepared me for the vastness, the blue stretching to the horizon, sprinkled with a thousand moving points of glitter. I smell the salt-tang again, freshness on my face. My eyes fill with tears.

Why has this been kept from me? Resentment blooms, twining around my anger, snaking beneath my joy to be here.

‘Are you all right?' Ruth touches my arm.

‘I've just never seen it like this,' I whisper.

‘Well, then,' she says. ‘Let's take a closer look. If you're lucky, I might even get you an ice cream. Doesn't matter what time of year it is, you always have ice cream at the seaside.' She laughs. I smile. I've tried ice cream, of course. But a wandering human, tied to a vampire, probably would never have.

We start down the hill, white and grey birds circling above us, their cries plaintive in the cold salty air. The large square buildings give way to a row of smaller shops. I pause at one, taken by a brightly coloured dress hanging in the window.

‘That's nice.' I turn to Ruth.

She smiles. ‘Geneva's clothes are about the nicest around here. She's very good at making the most of what she gets in.'

‘What she gets in?'

‘Well, it's like everything. We just get bits and pieces, you know? Nothing like it used to be. Clothes used to be made all over the world, right? Big factories, lots of shops. I hear in Old London some still remain, though they only open at night, of course.'

I nod, slowly, as it dawns on me. ‘Because the?—'

‘Vamps keep everything for themselves. Oh, I'm sorry,' she goes on, twisting her mouth. ‘I know you care for him.' She jerks her head back the way we came.

I bite my lip, anger an ache in my chest. My family. They're the reason why humans, like this nice lady, live the way they do. Why nothing is like it's supposed to be.

‘Perhaps we could ask them?—'

‘Huh!' Ruth barks out a laugh. ‘What – our high lords of Raven? No—' she shakes her head ‘—we're lucky to have what we have.'

I don't say anything, moving along to the next shop. This one has toys and children's books in the window, colours bright against crumpled tissue paper. On closer inspection it's obvious the toys aren't new. They're clean, but the stickers decorating one small car are worn, while the books are tattered along their cardboard edges, obviously having been through many small hands. My throat closes and the ache in my chest grows stronger.

A small voice says, ‘I like that one.' I look down to see a little girl standing next to me, a young woman nearby.

‘Wh-which one?' My vision is blurry.

‘The pink one.' She smiles up at me, her teeth like rice grains, her cheeks rosy and her brown eyes bright. I look in the window again. There's a book near the front, a girl in a pink dress on the cover. Posey Prefers Pink , reads the title.

I swallow. ‘It does look very good.' I think of my library, of the piles of children's books put to one side once I grew out of them, discarded and gathering dust.

‘Yes, I want to have it.'

‘Amber!' The young woman comes up, smiling apologetically. ‘I'm sorry,' she says, taking the little girl by the hand as if to pull her away.

‘No, it's fine,' I say. Seized by a sudden impulse, I reach into my pocket, pulling out the roll of bills Kyle gave me. The young woman's eyes widen. I pull a bill loose, tucking the rest back in my pocket. ‘Please.' I hold it out. ‘Please, if this is enough, buy it for her.'

‘Oh, I couldn't possibly accept.'

‘Please please please, Mummy!' The little girl hugs my legs. It's all I can do not to burst out crying. I keep holding out the money and the young woman, looking uncertain, finally takes it.

‘It's too much,' she says, her voice soft. ‘I'll bring you the change.'

‘No.' I shake my head, a tear escaping. ‘Please. Keep it.'

The little girl lets go of my legs. Ruth touches my arm. ‘You ready to go?'

I nod.

The little girl tugs her mother's hand, pulling her towards the shop. I wave, wiping my eyes as I walk away, following Ruth towards the water. The air is wonderfully fresh and cold, filled with the sounds of people talking, laughing, living life. I barely register any of it. I've been so na?ve, I realise. So sheltered. ‘Your family farm,' Kyle had called it, a distant mirage under a starlit sky. I'd thought it would be so different, just like the lives I'd seen on screen, a shining dream. But now I see it's nothing like that at all.

And how, but for an accident of birth, it would have been my lot as well.

Ruth stops, joining a small queue leading to a window. The faded sign depicts ice cream in cones. I stand with her, not knowing what else to do.