Page 94 of Nocte

Made whole. A good thing. A good thing?

But then why is he staring so blankly and empty? Why is he so far beyond my reach? Why doesn’t he look at me when I say his name?

“Caspian? Caspian?”

Nothing.

“His mind is in shock,” the man explains, his tone irritated. “He needs rest and quiet. He needs to repair his thoughts without your wailing and whining. Leave him to us. You leave.”

With Poppy. Who will lead me away somewhere and never let me find my way back. They will hide him from me. Shield him from me.

Protect him from me.

“I can’t leave him,” I rasp. “I need him.”

And he needs me.

“Oh, damn you! We’ve wasted too much time with this already. Poppy, go. Use your senses to track their trail and clean it up the best you can. Scythe, help this one to a room.”

Scythe steps forward, tall and wiry. He reaches for Caspian. Touches him.

I wince. “Don’t hurt him.”

“We won’t, darling,” the tall one hisses. “But if you want him to get through this with some semblance of his psyche intact, you must let him go to a quiet space, away from this racket. Understood?”

I do. Deep down in the pit of my stomach, I do. My voice alone isn’t enough to bring him back from that lost place inside of him. No matter how much I beg or plead it will never be enough.

I can’t help him here.

I can only be patient and wait.

“Okay.”

I watch Scythe take Caspian and lead his shell to some hidden, quiet room. This house must be full of them, some locked and boarded up. Some are open. There are many creatures living here. Dwelling here. Hiding here.

They trust him, the tall vamryre with dark hair and flashing green eyes.

“Do you call yourself something?” he wonders, an eyebrow raised. “Something other than ‘it.’”

“I am Niamh,” I snap. The air is different here. Frustrating and charged. I can’t focus. I can’t be nice, sweet, demure Niamh. I need my Caspian. I need to see him. Save him.

I need to protect him.

“Niamh, I am Altaris,” the tall man explains. “This here is my domain. Our domain. The Safe House.”

A safe house. But not safe for all creatures, just for them. A safe house for vamryre.

Because they lied to us in the other realm. Their rules claimed that a vamryre can never leave their collective. That a fae can never be born as one of three. That unwanted creatures are dirty and corrupted. That our laws are the only laws worth heeding.

Altaris has created his own realm here, in this house. What are his rules I wonder? Will he bully and command like Caspian’s old master? Will he take him away from me?

“We choose to be here,” he says, as if reading my mind. Has he? “All vamryre are welcome here. All shapes and forms. You are not—but,” he adds before I can throw myself at him with grasping hands, nails drawn.

“But you may stay if you earn your keep. This isn’t a hotel like that horrible place. I assume that’s where you’ve come from. Where the cause of this took place…” He wiggles his slim fingers in my direction, his eyes on my chest, on my borrowed mortal clothes.

Clothing that is now red with blood. Vamryre blood.

“The Bleeding Heart Motel,” I choke out.