Holly Black - The Coldest Girl in Coldtown

“And, Dad, if you’re watching, don’t be too mad at Pearl, okay? It’s pretty glamorous to be a vampire. It makes sense that anyone would want that. So give her a break, okay? You’ve only got one daughter left. And Pauline, thanks for saving my sorry ass. Sorry I didn’t call you back sooner.

“And for everyone else, I thought I would show you something other than the glamour. This is what it’s like to sweat out an infection. I’ve got a bunch of water and some cans of creamed corn and I’m going to scream and beg and puke my guts up. The chains holding me are pretty good—”

Tana was drawing breath to say something else, when she heard the unmistakable sound of one of the bolts on the door turning.

“Hey,” she called. “Who’s there?”

The second bolt turned, echoing in the empty space.

“Jameson?”

Her heart thudded and she pulled against her chain, realizing the vulnerability of her position.

“Well,” she said to the camera. “Someone is coming to visit me in the secret room where I’m supposed to be holed up alone for everyone’s safety. Hopefully they’re not going to—”

The door opened and Gavriel stepped into the room. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was wearing black jeans and a black shirt, almost exactly what he was wearing when she met him. The only differences were that he wore heavy silver rings, shining with lapis and hematite, on his fingers and a leather bag slung across his body. He looked as strangely beautiful as ever, his features a touch too large for his face. Walking across the room, he switched off her video camera.

“Hi,” she said, unable to quite manage more than that.

He closed the door and sat in the dirt beside her. “I heard that you gave away your marker.”

She shrugged, trying to seem casual, as if she wasn’t chained to the wall of a room, as if he wasn’t the scariest guy in the city, as if she hadn’t killed his maker. “I figure that I have to be realistic about my chances. You know how many people make it through self-quarantine? The numbers are low. I might cut up my skin so bad to drink my own blood that the cuts go septic. Or I might forget to eat regular food and starve. Or I might spill my water while I’m having a fit. Better to give the marker to some little kid, right?”

“Your sister,” he said.

Tana nodded. “My sister.”

Gavriel closed his eyes, sooty lashes brushing his cheek. “I’ll stay with you.”

“What? No,” she said automatically. “No! That’s crazy.”

“I’m crazy,” he reminded her.

He’d said it perfectly matter-of-factly, and it almost startled a laugh out of her. She took a deep breath to cover the impulse. “Look, do you get what I’m going to be like? I’m going to be puking and probably pissing my pants, not to mention screaming.” Her hands started to shake again, but she pressed them together between her knees, hoping to hide just how sick she was. “I don’t want you seeing me like that.”

“Tana, when you left last night, I thought that I had no right to go after you, no right to even beg your forgiveness. And I still think it—so I am not here to ask to be forgiven for my arrogance or for what happened because of it, although I will ever be profoundly repentant. But let me sit with you through the long night. Here is a thing I can do.” He reached into the bag and drew out an odd array of manga, ripped paperbacks of books both classic and modern, and a small stack of crumpled magazines. “See, I even brought some things to read aloud. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so there’s a bit of everything.”

“ Why? ” she demanded, because of all the things he could be doing, it made no sense that he would come here, to do this. Lucien was dead, and she was halfway sure that for some vampires, there were ways in and out of Coldtown. Gavriel could be on his way to a chateau in the Alps and drinking from girls half drowned in red wine. “I thought you were probably pissed off. I mean, you came a long way to kill Lucien and because of me, you didn’t get to.”

“No, Tana. Truly, though it must grieve you to have done it, your striking that blow certainly didn’t grieve me.” He paused, seeming to steel himself and then began to speak very quickly. “I love you, you see—and I fear I have no way to say or show it that isn’t terrible, except coming here. I would kill everyone in the world for you, if you wanted.” He seemed to notice the look that passed over her face, before rushing on. “Or not, obviously. But I thought you might rather have me read aloud—” He picked up an old issue of Rolling Stone from the stack, lifting it vaguely. “—and sit with you. Like a normal person who loved you might, if you had a normal illness. And since you don’t, I’m just right for what you do have.”

She started to giggle, unable to help herself. He never said anything she expected, ever, and this was no different. Clearing her throat, she tried to find the right words. “I’d rather you didn’t kill everyone in the world, yes, that’s true. And I have feelings for you, too. Big, weird, crazy feelings. It’s a rare enough thing to find someone who can see me the way I am, no less to peer down into dark parts of my heart, the parts of me even I don’t want to look at. You did that and you laughed at my jokes, too. So I’m scared, because you’re not just not human , you’re not like anyone —there’s nobody like you in all the world and it’s you I want. I want you and I hate wanting things and I especially hate admitting I want them.”

His mouth curved into a happy, hopeful smile. “So I can stay?”

Panic filled her. “No, no, no, you can’t stay. If you stay, you’ll let me out. I’ll beg and beg and you’ll let me out.”

“I won’t,” he said, shifting closer to her. “You didn’t ask me to let you out of Elisabet’s room, when you were cuffed to her bed. You broke out yourself instead of simply asking me. Remember that? You didn’t think I would free you then.”

“This is different. Besides, I was probably wrong.”

“Hush, Tana,” he said, petting her hair. “Oh, my sweet Tana. Remember that I’m still a monster. I can listen to you scream and cry and beg and I still won’t let you out.”

His voice made her shiver with a delicious combination of nerves and calm. She remembered the footage she’d seen of him long before they’d met, imprisoned and insane underneath a cemetery in Paris, drenched in blood and cut in a thousand places. If anyone knew what it was like to be alone and in pain, it was him. For the first time since he walked into the room, she began to believe she might not have to go through all this alone. “You can’t let me drink your blood. You can’t bite me. Even if I beg you, even if I plead and threaten and lie. You have to promise. It’s the only way I’m going to get better.”

“I swear it.” His red eyes held hers. “Solemnly, do I swear.”

She relaxed against him, inhaling the scent of smoke and bleach and the faint trace of gore. His shoulder was very solid against her cheek, the brush of his inky hair very fine. “You really won’t let me out?”

She felt his smile against her skin. “Allow me to explain how my whole life has prepared me for this moment. I am used to girls screaming, and your screams—your screams will be sweeter than another’s cries of love.”

She nearly laughed, because that was as perfect a thing to say as it was perfectly awful.

“Okay,” she said, drowsy and cold, feeling the shakes starting to return. “You can stay. I want you to stay. Please stay.” She closed her eyes and asked the one question she’d been afraid to ask all this long while. “And if I never change back? If I’m not human enough anymore?”