Eternal

“Baselard?” I asked. “That’s your dagger, right? You’ve never shown me. Did you have it that day in Central Park?”

He nodded. “Since I met you, I’m never without it.”

“Show me,” I demanded, but I wasn’t expecting what came next.

Without a word, Matthew started unbuttoning his plaid shirt.

Uh-oh.

“Wait,” I called out, half rising from my seat. I stopped myself when I saw the form-fitting heather-gray T- shirt he wore beneath the more conservative button-down.

“What?” he asked. “You didn’t really think I was going to strip shirtless right here in my office, did you?” There was an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes, mocking me.

He shrugged out of the shirt, revealing a shoulder-harness sheath over his left pecs, worn over the T-shirt. From the sheath, he removed the most beautiful weapon I’d ever seen. The handle was dark gray, H-shaped, the narrow, silver double-edge blade sharpened to a deadly tip. My breath caught at the sight of it. I rose, inexplicably drawn to it.

He held it out to me, and I took it with trembling hands, tracing a finger down the length of the blade and back up again. I paused just above the hilt, where an intricately scripted M was engraved into the metal. I glanced over at his right biceps, where the dagger was depicted in ink, and then back to the weapon itself, amazed at the likeness.

“It looks so old,” I said, my voice full of awe. “So fragile.”

“This one is old. Probably late fifteenth century or so, forged in Switzerland specifically for the Megvedio. But don’t be fooled by its age or fragility. I’ve been assured that it can still do its job as long as I hit my mark. And I promise you I can. I’ve been training with it since I was twelve.”

I shook my head in confusion. “But I don’t understand. I didn’t think you could kill a vampire.”

“I can’t. That’s your job. It’s my job to strike the vampire’s eye with the baselard. That disables it long enough for you to get a clean shot at the heart.”

“But . . . but the blade’s so short,” I stammered. “Wouldn’t you have to get awfully close to a vampire’s fangs to reach its eyes?”

He cocked an eyebrow, looking somewhat amused. “Not if I throw it.”

“Ah, I see.” Goose bumps rippled across my skin as I imagined it, trying to picture a scene where Matthew and I worked in tandem to take out a vampire. Would it come to that?

Of course it would. There was no hiding from destiny.

“I’ve already killed three vampires,” I said, my voice shaky now. “All by myself.”

“I know,” was all he said, but the pride in his voice spoke volumes more.

I swallowed hard. “You better put your shirt back on.”

“That’s what she said,” he quipped, slipping the dagger back into its sheath. “It’s a joke,” he added, looking suddenly embarrassed as he reached for his shirt and slipped it back on.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve seen the show.”

In seconds, he’d buttoned up. Only now . . . now I was hyperaware of what the plaid shirt concealed. I wondered briefly if it was as uncomfortable as the makeshift sheath I’d worn to carry my stake back when Julius had been threatening us.

Suddenly, it was as if my right side started to hum. Vibrations pulsed down my arm, concentrating in my palm. “Wow,” I said as unfamiliar sensations washed over me. I extended my arm, flexing my hand several times in an attempt shake it off. “It’s like I feel its absence now. My stake. It’s like . . . like it belongs with your baselard.”

I dropped my head into my hands, my cheeks flaming with mortification as I realized how dirty that sounded. “Please pretend I didn’t just say that,” I muttered.

“Hey, look at me,” he said, his voice sharp. “It’s just going to get stronger, these feelings, the closer we get to your eighteenth birthday. We’ve got to”—he shook his head—“I don’t know, find a way to get comfortable with it, okay? I mean, obviously we have to respect the boundaries, but for safety’s sake, we’ve got to learn to trust each other. I’m talking one hundred percent, absolute trust. And yeah, it’s going to get awkward sometimes. But I’ve got your back. Always, every moment of every day.”

I just nodded, unable to speak. Conflicting emotions overwhelmed me, warring against one another. A part of me wanted to pledge equal devotion to him, an ‘every moment, every day’ declaration to match his. But another part of me . . .

Aidan. Oh, Aidan. “Here’s the thing, though,” I said cautiously. “I still have to find him. Find him and get him out of there.”

“Aidan, you mean?”

I just nodded.

He let out a sigh, looking frustrated—defeated, even. “I’m sure you’re going to try.”

“You’ve got to understand, I—”

“I get it, Violet.” He held out a hand to silence me. “I do. And for the record, it’s not your relationship with Aidan in theory that I disapprove of. If he were mortal . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. “But he’s not. He’s the enemy, no matter how nice and decent and smart he might be. I’m not saying you should destroy him—or any of them, for that matter, if they’re not a threat. I’m just saying that it’s against your nature, and it’s only going to lead to heartbreak. I mean, from the looks of it, it already has.”

I digested that in silence, annoyed that he’d resort to such a low blow. Anyway, it didn’t matter what Matthew thought. I was unwilling to accept the idea of failure. I would find him.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. We simply sat, watching each other warily. As the seconds passed, I became aware of the ticktock of the clock on his desk, the one we used for coaching. “Why did you want to see me, anyway?”

“To talk about our Saturday-morning sessions.” He walked around his desk and took his seat opposite me, all official-like now. “I’d like to get back to them, but it’s up to you.”

“Is there anything more you can teach me about the visions?” Because I’d already perfected the replay. I’d gone over the three remaining unfulfilled visions—Cece getting expelled, a short-haired me in an antique-looking bed with a lustful and possibly bloodthirsty Aidan, and one that seemed to indicate I would attempt to slay Aidan again. I shuddered at the memory of that last one. “Any new tricks to learn?”

“Not really. I was thinking that we should take our sessions in a different direction. You know, talk about situations we might encounter, share what we know about vampires and what threats might be lurking out there. And then start on some combat training.”

“Combat training?”

“Yeah, I think we need to get the mechanics down—learn how to work as a team. That kind of stuff.”

“I guess,” I agreed. I couldn’t help but remember those training sessions with Aidan, where he’d taught me how to use my stake. I remembered the mental and physical exhaustion, the strain it had put on our relationship. I wondered if this would be easier, more natural. After all, there was nothing natural about learning how to kill a vampire . . . from a vampire. But this—at least this made sense.

“Maybe one of your friends could help us out now and then,” he suggested. “You know, play the role of the vampire.”

“Yeah, sure.” That’d be easy. I had no doubt they’d be falling all over each other to volunteer. “And speaking of my friends, I wanted to ask about telling the guys—Joshua, Tyler, and Max—about our situation. I mean, they know so much already. It just feels sort of weird keeping it from them. Especially since all the girls know.”

“Do you trust these guys?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I do. They’re with us now—a part of our group.” Besides, Winterhaven students by nature were good at keeping secrets. For most of us, it was just a part of who we were.

“Well, I’ll let you make that call. Though with Tyler’s fencing training, he’d probably be pretty handy for us, training-wise. I wish I could think of somewhere other than my office to meet, though.” He glanced around the space, looking thoughtful. “There’s really not enough room in here for what I want to do. I guess I could reserve one of the studios in the gym, but I’m afraid people will start to wonder—”

“I know a place,” I interrupted. “The chapel. It’ll be empty on Saturday mornings—it’s pretty much always