"You are certain this is everyone?" Penelope asked. Zagan was sitting on the bed next to where she had her legs crossed in her lap with several sheets of paper in her hands.
Zagan had an excellent mory. Rather than simply being satisfied with the general enchantnt on Gray Vale, he insisted on providing her with specific nas just in case. If he was going to allow her to perform this mory enchantnt on him, he was going to make sure it was as airtight as it could be... if only for her protection moving forward.
He was able to recall everyone who would know him and still be existing aside from the alyko, and the list was long. It was the longest Penelope had ever had to deal with for the mory enchantnt, but then she had never used it on a vampire before.
Lycans were easy. They generally only associated with those individuals within their pack, and in those cases the pack’s na could just be used rather than individual nas. Humans were a bit more difficult, but their associations also tended to be rather limited. The number increased with age, of course. But vampires... vampires who had existed for centuries? That was another task entirely.
"Yes, that is everyone," he said quietly.
Ever since they entered his room, Zagan’s deanor had changed. She felt the distance he was keeping between them due to his guilt, and she wasn’t trying to cross it. She needed ti to process all of this as well. It was heavy—the weight of all that he had done. It was very heavy.
"All right, let’s get on with us so that we can make your mory disappear, kill this vampire, and get on with our lives. What do you say?" She sighed, allowing a smile to reassure him.
"Are you sure that’s what you want?" He asked carefully.
Their eyes locked, and Zagan felt the overwhelming flood of their bond once again. He couldn’t understand how she could forgive him for all of this. It had to be the bond. She likely had no choice in the matter. But if she did, she wouldn’t choose him. She wouldn’t choose to stay with him.
"Of course that is what I want." She let go of the papers with one hand and offered it to him. He looked at her palm that was open and outstretched, waiting to be joined with his. It was more than her hand she was offering. She was offering him her future, and he knew he was undeserving of it.
When he didn’t grab it right away, she wiggled her fingers, a smile curving on her lips again. "It’s going to be okay. You have to trust ."
He sighed heavily and took her hand in his. There was no way he could do her the dishonor of arguing with her now. She had given him the life he had sought for so long. And despite the fact that she had wanted so badly to kill him before, she had healed him when he was about to lose it. He may not deserve her, but he certainly owed it to her to be next to her side if that is what she wanted.
When their hands t and fingers intertwined, the warmth of all that she was—all the remarkable life energy that she had as an alyko—flooded him, setting his worries aflight. He felt the warmth rush up his arm and feather across his chest, igniting once again all the cells of his being that were now living because of her.
"It is just the bond," he said aloud, as if to himself. She squeezed his hand.
"It is not ’just’ anything. It is us, Zagan. It is ant to be us."
"How can I feel so awful and... so wonderful at the sa ti? Is it not so kind of forced bond that has brought us together, Penelope? Surely you would not want otherwise," he ran his thumb over her hand.
"Would you want otherwise?" She chuckled softly, knowing it would not be the case. He would not have thought of her as more than simply what she was—another unique specin for his collection.
"I was a fool," he swallowed, feeling the churning in his gut that wrenched with all of his wrongdoings. If he had stayed in Gray Vale and never pursued an end to his miserable existence, at least he would have not affected so many lives. But then he would not have found her either.
"You were a vampire cursed with immortality. I am sure right and wrong appears much different from that perspective. And you viewed death as a gift," she reminded him. Bringing death to others from that perspective would not seem as serious a wrong, would it? He was jealous of their ability to die.
"I cannot wait until this room is gone. This island is gone," his eyes lifted to take in the space that had been his hideout.
Penelope squeezed his hand again. "Let’s get on with it then." She stood from the bed with the papers in hand. "I need a few strands of your hair," she said softly.
Zagan stood and approached the desk, pulling a pair of scissors from the drawer. He turned them over in his hand and offered them to her. Taking his lustrous long black hair in her hand, she snipped just enough for what she needed and placed the scissors on the desk.
"Your hair is black and mine is white," she smiled to herself.
"It is fitting of course," he said. His gaze caught the book open on his desk, and he frowned. Crow and dove. Black and white.
"It is fitting because we balance each other," she told him, the smile still on her lips as she rolled the papers and tied them with his hair. "Are you ready?" Her eyes lifted to his that were unfocused, lost in thought. His attention returned to her, and he glanced down at what appeared to be a simple scroll tied with black ribbon.
"What about those we haven’t included? August and her pack? You? Neoma and Seth? That will not threaten the enchantnt?" His brows furrowed.
"No, because they will not be suggesting to soone on this list that they rember you. It is only a problem when the altered mories are challenged with sothing they do not recall," she explained.
"I see. Okay," he nodded. "I am ready."
Reviews
All reviews (0)