be amazing.
Nodding, I rewind the tape and then press play.
We listen to the voices from the past, but somehow this time it feels like they’re right here, talking to both of us. I imagine them by my side or all of us gathered around the dining table, maybe Brady is there, too, and we’re just talking and laughing and eating dinner. There aren’t any monsters, there aren’t any Day Walkers, and the Thirst is still just an urban legend. I close my eyes and Victor puts his hand on mine. I want so badly for the world to be perfect. I feel the tears starting to come again, and when I open my eyes, the world is still the same. But when I look at Victor, it seems just a little bit better.
“They loved you very much,” he says. “The human capacity for emotion has always humbled me.”
I hesitate, then remind him, “You once told me that you love me.”
“But I fear it pales in comparison with what humans can experience.”
“You would die for me.” He almost did.
“Without hesitation. What I feel for you terrifies me. I shouldn’t feel it. And yet I do.” Putting his hand behind my head, he leans me down for a kiss. His mouth is tender, gentle, a reflection of him. I love the way he kisses me as though I’m special. I grow warm as yearning takes hold. Maybe I should pack the red silk—
With a start, I break away from the kiss.
I look over at the tape recorder. It’s still playing.
“I thought it was over,” I say.
“I guess there’s more on it,” Victor says quietly.
My stomach tightens. I hold my breath, dreading what he might say.
I watch the tape spiral, the magnetic strip wind itself up, containing my parents’ words that were only meant to be heard if the worst happened. I listen, hoping that there’s more. But the tape grinds to a halt.
“Does that mean anything to you?” Victor asks.
I nod, unable to get the words out, already feeling the tears beginning to well up.
“Dawn . . .” Concern is deep in his voice.
“I have to think. What hiding place is he talking about?”
“You’re growing pale. Why won’t you tell me what’s happening?”
I look around my room, and it’s immediately obvious. I go over to the music box that used to house little presents from my father as I grew up: pieces of candy, tiny notes, maybe even a few quarters that I could put into my piggy bank and hear the
“This is where he always hid stuff for me,” I say, Victor joining me. “There’s a little hidden compartment, but the only things in it are things that I’ve hidden.”
I open it and listen to the music play, the tiny disc somewhere inside the woodwork, turning slowly and playing its song. I’ve always listened to it, but I’ve never really looked at the box itself, just what was inside. I turn it over, examine it from every angle. I tap the green felt bottom. It sounds off. Then I gauge its depth in relation to the rest of the box, and that’s when I realize:
“It’s a false bottom,” I say. “It can be lifted out. But how?”
I grab the tiny wooden divider that separates the box into two compartments and try to lift from there, but it doesn’t budge.
“Let me take a look at it.”
Victor puts his hand on the box, his fingers lightly touching key points. The music stops.
“Wind it up again,” he says.
I do so, and when I let go of the turn key, the music begins all over again. Victor closes his eyes and listens. It’s like he’s in another world, his vampiric senses picking up impossible things.
“There’s a note,” he says, “I can
I wait in silence as Victor listens to the song again and again and again, like a fencer waiting for that right moment to strike. His fingers clench the felt divider and then . . .
The false bottom detaches perfectly, and Victor sets it aside. In the box, a tiny strip of leather is wrapped around a bundle of documents, everything secured with a rubber band. I pull it out and close the box; the music stops.
“Dawn, do you know what this is?” Victor asks.
I’m afraid I do, but I’m not ready to face it yet.
“We really need to get going,” I say. “I can look at this later.”
“We can take the time now.”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“When you’re ready, just let me know. You don’t have to face it alone.”
I simply nod.
First we have to pass through the gauntlet of Rachel and Jeff. Needless to say, both were caught off guard to see me walking out of my room with Victor holding my duffel bag. But considering what my life has encompassed during the past month, I’m a little past the scolding-for-bad-behavior phase.
“The balcony,” Rachel says, nodding, as though she just answered a question she’d asked herself about how Victor had gotten past her unnoticed. Then she quickly shifts into protective mode. “You’d better take good care of her.”
“I can assure you,” Victor says, “that if she comes to any harm, it will be because Faith, Richard, and I are all dead.”
Instead of comforting her, his words only make her narrow her eyes. “Don’t get dead.”
Victor grins. “Trust me. I’m not planning on it.”
Rachel embraces me tightly. “At least I get a hug instead of a note this time.”
I squeeze her hard. “This is lots better.”
When I release her, I clasp Jeff quickly. “Keep her out of trouble.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Then Victor and I are walking out of the apartment, and I can only hope that it won’t be too long before I’m back. We take the elevator down. I wave at the guard at the front door before we step outside. The car is waiting at the curb.
Victor opens the passenger door for me and I slide in. Faith and Richard are in the backseat. “Hey,” I say.
“I never understood that term as a greeting,” Faith says. “Isn’t that something they feed to horses?”
Her words barely connect with me. My fingers are lightly tapping the leatherette on my lap. Victor tosses my
