Page 22 of A Memory in the Flame

But instead of getting angry or defensive, his violet eyes sharpen with concern. “Why? Are you in trouble?”

A hysterical laugh lodges in my throat. I’m on the verge of telling him about the Vampire King’s threat, making him aware of the danger if someone sees us together, but then I remember Alexander’s other warning.If you speak of our conversation beyond this room, I’ll drop your bloodied body in Calyape Park and let the shapeshifters spread your entrails across the soil.

I reach for Drew’s arm, think better of it, and incline my head instead. He follows me into an alley that dead-ends in a cluster of trash bins and stacks of cardboard boxes. Even here, I feel exposed, like a thousand eyes are watching. I face Drew, intending to tell him that we need to stay away from each other, when I comprehend how close he’s standing. A pique of longing steals past my guard.

“Listen, Drew, we can’t—”

“I fucked up that night,” he says.

I frown up at him. “You mean, the night we all saw each other at Rowan’s? Yeah, you shouldn’t have put your life at risk like that, but I’m not—”

“No.” He shakes his head. A muscle works in his jaw. “I mean the last night we were together. When Nina found us, I should’ve done everything differently. But when she hit the wall, and there was all that blood, I just couldn’t think straight. She’s my family, she’s all I have, and I’ve protected her my entire life. But I… I should have protected you, too.”

A surge of helplessness rises within me as cars honk in the distance. Before the Vampire King came to my hotel room, these words were what I’d been longing to hear. But now they may very well be our death sentences.

Like the rest of the world, I’m caught between what I want and what Ishouldwant. “Drew… I…”

He must hear something in my voice, because his hands cup my face. In the next instant, Drew’s lips cover mine, silencing me. His scent assails my senses, and as his tongue steals into my mouth, claiming a taste, my toes curl and my insides heat.Oh, god. Now I want to tell him how much he means to me. How much his kindness has helped me wade through these strange, dark waters.

But people rarely say the words written on their hearts.

However much I want to pretend the Vampire King’s threat didn’t happen, that it wasn’t real or he didn’t truly mean it, I know I’ll hate myself later. For endangering Drew, for risking my own life, when we’ve both done so much to survive. “Please go,” I say in a low voice, struggling but finally finding the strength to step away from him.

Drew’s eyes lower, and I catch sight of a raindrop tangled in his eyelashes. He takes a breath, as though he’s gathering a lungful of courage. “I’m in love with you, Charlie.”

The words are so quiet they could’ve been a wisp of air or a dream. But after he says them, he raises his gaze to mine, this wild, smiling, human boy, and I know that the only way to protect him… is to break him.

I swallow. “But I’m not. Sometimes you have to cross a line just to remember where it is. That’s what this was for me.” Hot tears prick my eyes. Less than a second later, remorse breaks through the wall of cruelty I’ve constructed between me and the girl who loves Drew back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Drew is expressionless. As if someone has replaced him with an automaton that looks eerily like him. “Humans just like to complicate everything—it makes us feel smart. I shouldn’t have read into this so much.”

Before I can utter another word—but really, there’s nothing left to say—Drew crosses the street like the only thing in the world that matters now is getting away from me. Then he ducks his head, raises the collar of his coat so it hides his face, and jogs into the gray mist.

After he’s gone, I feel something hot and wet on my cheek. I touch it and pull my hand away to look. Water glistens there. As I lift my gaze, I catch sight of a mirror. It leans against one of the Dumpsters, abandoned and purposeless. My reflection stares back, red-eyed and pale.

I cry out and smash the glass with my fist. As broken shards fall to the ground, I stand there, chest heaving and knuckles bleeding. Now the face in the mirror is fragmented, like me.

“I hate you,” I say to her.

She doesn’t answer.

* * *

Two days pass. The city continues to be held hostage by dread, anger, and pain. There are riots outside of the mansion gates and City Hall. But I hear of them secondhand, far below the Earth’s crust, where Noah instructs me to watch Leo. The human doesn’t ever show up for work, though, which effectively forces our investigation to a screeching halt.

Working in the sewers is more awkward than it’s ever been with Drew and Nina, and when Noah suggests we focus our efforts on the search for Alexander’s traitor, I eagerly agree. We return to Crimson in hopes of finding the bouncer, Markus. According to Mia, he’s gone missing.Another dead end, I think listlessly as we leave the club. Briefly, I toy with the idea of sending a message to Val, but that would probably be breaking the rules.

Although the Vampire King still hasn’t given a timeline for the task he assigned me, I can feel him breathing down my neck, watching me with those ancient, all-seeing eyes.

When I wake and realize that it’s my day off, I’ve never been so grateful for a Sunday in my life.

I stay in the luxurious hotel bed, snuggled against the mound of pillows, and resolve to stay here all evening. I order room service, a vegetarian pizza with extra garlic bread on the side, and wash it down with a bottle of blood from the minibar. Afterwards, I take a trip to the feeder suite, where I have another brief conversation with Deacon.

Once I’m back in my suite, I tune in and out of some vampire reality show on the flatscreen. Midnight comes and goes. Despite my vow, though, I find myself feeling… restless. With a sigh, I decide to take a shower and get out of the hotel.

With slightly damp hair and a sense of uncertainty, I direct a cab driver to Wardthorpe, recalling the fun I’d had walking the streets, shopping, carrying heavy paper bags at my sides. The shapeshifter—obvious from her black claws that grip the steering wheel—drops me on a busy corner. As I step out, I tug the hood of my jacket over my head, covering my curls from the drizzle of rain coming down, and duck into the closest boutique.

My senses are immediately overwhelmed with scents of lavender, lemon, eucalyptus, and every essential oil under the moon. The human shopkeeper smiles at me from behind the counter, and I return the gesture before looking over a shelf of handmade soaps. I pick up a lemongrass and mint bar. I don’tneedit—Alexander’s has plenty of toiletries—but the idea of having more belongings, of making my hotel room seem less of a hotel room, has me grabbing another soap bar, as well as a eucalyptus-scented lotion, on my way to the register. Placing the items on the counter, I reach into my bag to pull out my coins.

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