The Hallowed Ones

Even so, I sensed that my time was measured. I wanted to wring every last experience out of it like juice from an orange, to feel, to touch, and to taste the juice as it ran down my chin. I did not want to lie down and wait for death like Ginger and the others, with their veil of ignorance drawn around them and surrendering their will to live to others.

I wanted my life to matter.

And I wanted to choose how it mattered.

I shoved the heavy kennel door open. Idly, I wondered if the vampires had discovered this place, if they had circled it in the dark. I knew that Alex was without light, without warmth, without any way to call for help. I wondered if that was part of the reason why he was leaving the settlement.

And I wondered if the other part was me.

“Bonnet? Is that you?”

I spied movement in the back. The moonlight illuminated him walking toward me, barefoot, shirtless, one trouser leg wadded up around his shin. His tattoos seemed to absorb the light, black and squirming against his pale flesh. Relief that he was still here flushed through my skin.

“Ja, it’s me.” I turned to haul the door shut, blotting out the light.

“What the hell are you doing, wandering around at night?” I could hear the spark of anger in his voice.

The door bounced a little against the frame, opening an inch and letting the moonlight stream in. I could hear his breath behind me, felt as it disturbed the loose hair on the back of my neck.

His hand rested on the door beside my head. His voice was softer: “Bonnet.”

I turned to face him, bumping up against his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

I reached up with both my hands, lowered his stubbly face to my mouth, and kissed him. His lips were frozen, still, under mine. At first, I was afraid that he would reject me, tell me to go home—or worse, send me back to sleep with Sunny and Copper.

But then he sighed against my lips, kissed me back. He didn’t kiss me like Elijah did, with that persistent fumbling I was accustomed to. Alex kissed me with his whole body, not just his mouth. His hands on the door, framing my face, inexorably pulled in and tangled in my hair. He leaned against me, the warmth of his lanky frame against mine, his tongue pressing past my lips.

My hands slipped down to his bare chest, timidly, to the ankh burned over his heart, circled behind him to finger the Djed column along his spine. I expected the skin there to feel different. Hotter. But it was as evenly warm as the rest of him.

His kiss slipped from my mouth, trailed along my jaw to my neck. One hand cradled my head while the other circled my waist, pushing my breasts against his chest.

“What did you come for?” he murmured.

“For you.”

He reached up to brush a strand of hair from my eyes. “Are you sure that this is what you want?”

I nodded. I slipped my hands up over his bare shoulder blades.

“I’ve still gotta leave . . . I can’t stay.” He was being honest.

I appreciated that. “I know.”

“But—”

I laid my finger to his mouth. I knew that he wanted me, too. I could hear it in the rough sound of his voice, feel it in the hard press of his body against my thigh.

“Just be gentle,” I said. I was afraid. But this was what I wanted. Him.

He murmured against my finger. “I will.”

Tenderly, he took my hand in his, turned it to kiss my palm.

I let him draw me down to the straw of the floor, down to darkness.

I did not believe much of anything that anyone else told me anymore.

But I believed him.

* * *

I slept fitfully. I woke often, unaccustomed to having a man’s arms around me. I stared into the darkness, listened to his breathing, plucked bits of straw out of my mouth.

I think it was because I wanted to savor each instant, knowing that it had to end. As the dark softened and the light grayed, I dozed. Once or twice, I sensed something was watching us, and I heard a scuff at the door. I froze.

Alex held me close. “If it’s the vampires,” he whispered, “don’t move.”

The footsteps seemed to go away, and I was able to relax against him, lulled into dreams by warmth. It was a beautiful spell. For a moment, I felt as if I were truly in control of my world, of my own destiny.

The spell broke after sunrise.

I woke to a rusty sound, the sound of the door being reeled back.

I jolted upright, clutching the blanket to my chest. I shaded my eyes from the bright sunlight with my hand. I could make out silhouettes at the door.

“There they are,” said a voice, cold and bitter.

I blinked. It was Elijah. And the Elders.

I felt Alex behind me rising to fight, as I scrambled for my dress.

“Don’t move,” the Bishop said, aiming a rifle at Alex.

I closed my eyes.

My little dream was over.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Elders let us dress, then marched us back through the fields to my house. I glared murderously at Elijah’s back the whole way. How dare he . . . how dare he destroy the last little bit of a dream I had for myself?

I knew then that I hated him.

Hated him more than Ruth. More than the vampires, even.

I would never forgive him. Though “never” was shaping up to be a very short time for me.

My father marched down the steps, shock on his face. My mother was fast behind him, wiping her hands on a dishrag. It was clear to me that they were just as surprised as Alex and I.

“What’s happened?” my father demanded.

Elijah was the first to answer. “I came by to see if Katie was home. She wasn’t. You said that she was likely looking after the new puppies, so I thought to go look for her there.”

“Ja, I remember. You woke us up.” My father’s tone was harsh. I couldn’t tell if it was for me or directed at Elijah.

I traded glances with Alex. The “vampires” we’d heard at dawn . . . it must have been Elijah. Spying.

“I thought she was up to no good. I peered in between the slats of the wall . . . saw her”—he cast a contemptuous glare at me, then pointed to Alex—“lying with him.”

My father’s angry gaze landed on me. I lifted my chin in defiance.

“Is this true?”

I stubbornly refused to answer. But my father took in my disheveled appearance, my unbound hair, and drew his own conclusions.

He turned back to Elijah. “Why did you not come to me? I am her father. This is none of the concern of the Elders.”

The Bishop raised his voice. “It is our concern when she lies with an Outsider.” He grabbed Alex’s wrist, yanked up his sleeve to show his tattoo. “The Outsider we ordered to be left beyond the field.”

I opened my mouth to issue a scathing protest, but Alex interrupted me.

“It’s true. She came to me to bring me water in the field that day. And I forced her to take me to