"Or got caught up in another bombing and killed, leaving me behind!"
"Oh, sure. Sure. Because this is all about you, isn't it?"
"Look, just..." He slips off his own jacket.
"Mind if I...?" And nods down at his shoes.
"Go right ahead." I shrug, wondering if the casual gesture covers over the nervousness I feel at the realisation that he's staying.
Adam hangs up his jacket, kicks off his shoes, and moves over to the sofa. As he sits down, I give a little huff of laughter.
"No wonder they call you Padlock."
"What?"
"I spoke to one of the barmen at Vlad's. Scott, I think his name was. I asked for you. He wasn't sure who you were at first."
"Must be new."
"Have you been going there long?"
"How did you know I went there at all?"
Pause. "Will."
I give a brief nod before carrying on. "I described you, and I realised you might not look the same. Your accent might have changed. You might be going under a different name. Anything about you could have been different."
"And is it?" Adam rests his chin on his hands and looks me straight in the eye. "Have I changed?"
I pause before answering, not sure if there's a right answer to give. From what I've seen this evening, he's mercurial, going from flirtatious to angry to playful to pleading so fast, he makes my head spin. Part of that I put down to the shock of seeing me again after a long, long period of believing I wasn't around at all. Thinking the only thing left of me was my ghost.
"No," I whisper. "You haven't changed at all." Still confusing, still unpredictable. But what harm can it do, having him in my hotel room? I'm already dead, and things don't get much worse than that.
"That's a shame." He gives a half-smile, shaking his head oh so slowly. "I was hoping you'd think I was different from the way I was then."
"Only because you can't kill me this time around."
"Ouch. You just don't know when to stop, do you? Wait, no, no, don't tell me. I could say the same to you, Adam. Am I right? So," he continues without waiting for my answer, and I'm not even sure I could give one, "tell me. I tore your throat out, then...?"
"Nice of you to be so apologetic about it."
"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't still be around."
"No, Adam. No. If it weren't for Will, I wouldn't still be around."
"Then please, enlighten me. I. Tore. Your. Throat. Out. And...?"
"And I was damned near unconscious for the rest of it. Will filled me in when I came round. Apparently, he told you to get out of the room, to go to a particular place where he'd meet you later...?"
"Yes." Adam nods, and his eyes cloud over.
"There was a place..." He clears his throat a few times. The words are getting stuck, or maybe he chokes on the memories. "He came to me later and told me he'd taken care of things. You were dead. He flat out lied to me about you."
"Fancy that. A dishonest vampire."
"Say what you like about me, but I never lied to you."
"Ever?"
"Never. At all. Anything I said, I meant it."
I'd gasp if I had need of oxygen. As it is, the shock and discomfort jolt through my body in an instant without any intake of breath from me. Adam Locke really messes with my head. I can never predict when he's going to say these things, these words that seem sincere and heartfelt, and I never know when to believe him. Not anymore.
"Right. Well, then. So. Will told you to clear off then came back to me. I remember him leaning over me. I think..." I've told this story before.
Kieran knows it now. But to say the words in the presence of the one responsible is nauseating. But I have to do it, if only to prove that I can. "I think I begged him to kill me, I don't know. I might not have said it out loud."
Adam groans, cradling his head. By God; he really seems to show some regret in moments like these.
"So, he did what he did then got me to a safe ---"
"Wait, wait; you can't just brush it off like that. You can't just say he 'did what he did' and leave it there."
"I was unconscious, Adam." I stand in the middle of the room, at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. Any closer, and I might weaken, might start to feel some sympathy. Adam has a talent for making me feel things I don't want to. "Or dead. Nearly. Will told me, but I don't care to repeat it."
Shuddering, I think of myself then, and Kieran recently. His transition was so much more peaceful. It hurt, sure, but he was willing. He had a reason to do it---for the man he loved. It wasn't forced on him in a bloodbath like my change was.
The lucky bastard.
In a way, I'm grateful to Kieran for getting me over my fear of changing anyone. I never want to do it again, but now it won't dog me, taunting me with its unspoken, spectral, "dare you; dare you to do it. Prove you're not scared, Stephenson."
Well, I don't have to be scared of creating another vampire anymore because I've done it.
And I never will again.
"Will took me to a safe house. I begged him not to say anything to you. He wondered why at first, but..." I shrug; my eyes have lost focus. A part of me knows I'm in this hotel room with Adam, but I'm also partially there, back then, with Will. "I begged and pleaded, and to put my mind at rest, he agreed. He said he had to come out to meet you, to explain, and I said, Tell him I'm dead, Will. Please. You won't be lying, not really. I am
