“Thanks.”
She probably wouldn’t find much, but she’d ask Gavin, who might give him more. He gave her the names and tasks to keep her busy and to make her feel like she was helping.
Chloe did help. She helped every time she called him Benny or teased him or reminded him he wasn’t the monster he saw in the mirror anytime he could bear to look at his reflection. She helped every time she prodded Ben and Tenzin to figure things out.
“You offered your love to me, then you demanded that I watch you die.”
Tenzin was right.
And she was wrong.
She was both those things at exactly the same time, and how did he reconcile that? How did he forgive a human impulse when the results were eternal?
He checked the time in Los Angeles and called Sadia.
Dema answered the video request. “It’s you.”
“Yes, it’s me. Is she there?”
“It’s almost dinnertime.”
“I won’t keep her on the screen too long.”
Dema nodded and stepped away. “Sadia, Ben is on the screen for you!”
Ben heard the thunder of miniature elephants; then Sadia was leaning on the little desk where her screen lived. “Ben!”
“Ciao, sorellina.”
“Ciao bello.” She rested her chubby little chin on her hand. “Where are you?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I’m very safe, so don’t worry.”
“Are you coming home soon? Baba said you were going to Rome. We can go to Rome and see you there if you want.”
He touched her flyaway hair on the screen, but just like with Chloe, the picture wobbled. “I’m working for the next three weeks.”
“Three weeks is long.”
“I know. I didn’t think it would be so long either. After that, I’ll try to come for a visit, okay?”
She sighed. “Okay. Is Tenzin with you?”
“Yeah, actually she is.”
“Where?” Sadia’s eyes lit up. “She didn’t call me back, but I sent her a picture of me on my bike.”
“She’s not here, here, but—”
“Can you get her?” Sadia stood and danced at her desk. “I want to see her.”
Of course you do.
“Okay,” he said. “How about tomorrow night? Would that work?”
She nodded, then looked over her shoulder. “I have to go.”
“Dinnertime?”
She threw her head back and groaned. “I think I smell broccoli.”
Ben stifled a smile. “Listen, when I was your age, I had to eat a lot of broccoli.”
“Does it help you become a vampire?”
“Uh… yes. Because it makes your body really strong.”
She nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. “I’ll eat the broccoli.”
“Good. It’s really important.”
“Okay.” She raised her hand to touch the button; then she stopped and held her little finger up. “Tomorrow night with Tenzin?”
If he didn’t deliver, he’d never hear the end of it. “I’ll do my best.”
“Okay.” She looked over her shoulder. “I’m coming.” She looked back to the screen. “I love you. Bye.”
Sadia hung up without waiting for Ben to respond. It was one of those little things she did that reassured him.
She didn’t wait for Ben to respond because she knew he loved her. Sadia knew she was loved. She knew he’d do anything for her. There was not a doubt in her mind.
Ben had never had that assurance when he was five. Not even close. But Sadia did, and he was a part of that. On nights where he felt especially bitter about never seeing the sun again, he reminded himself of that.
* * *
“Completely wrong and completely right,” Brigid mused over the phone. “Yes, that sounds like roughly half the decisions you have to make as an immortal.”
“Tanks.” He mimicked her accent as he moved a pawn on the chessboard, playing both sides. “Tat’s so helpful.”
“Feck off.” She laughed at him. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. We don’t live in a black-and-white world. Sometimes there aren’t any good answers to a problem.”
Ben tapped the white knight on the chessboard. “If Carwyn was human and dying, would you—?”
“Faster than you can fecking blink.”
The words tumbled out of Brigid’s mouth at such rapid speed, Ben had to rewind to catch her meaning. “You would?”
“Without a second thought.”
“Even if he didn’t want to be a vampire?”
“I think even if he hated me forever, I’d do it,” she said quietly. “Even if I had to do it myself and it killed the love between us, I’d do it. I’m not proud for saying it, but God’s truth, I can’t give you another answer.”
Hearing her answer brought a bitter taste to his mouth, so Ben was surprised when the spike in his heart eased just a little. “Why? How are you so sure?”
Brigid took a long time to reply. “My life was very dark for a long time. And then… this man came into it. This infuriating, glorious madman came into my life, and it was like seeing the sun break over the horizon—to put it in human terms.” She cleared her throat. “So it’s just to say I’d do anything to keep that sunshine, Benny. Anything. Because thinking about a world where Carwyn ap Bryn didn’t exist at all takes me to such a dark place in my soul that I wouldn’t emerge from it.”
Ben had nothing to say.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Brigid’s voice was intensely quiet. “Those of us who have been wounded cling to what gives us light or peace. Even if it’s not the right thing. Even if it hurts. Because the other option is not an option.”
“She did the only thing she could think to do when someone she loved was dying. How do you not fucking see that?”
“I get you.” Ben picked up the black queen and held the piece to his lips.
“Do you?”
“Yes.” He set the queen down on the board, moving her into position next to the black knight. “I understand what you’re saying.”
* * *
He walked across the camp and knocked on her door an hour before dawn. The fire had burned down to embers, and the immortals had retired to their day chambers. The
