Garden of Thorns Page 6

  We cut through the park, past the bandstand and aim for the beginning of the Freedom Trail. There aren’t as many tourists out this time of year, it’s getting a little too cold for that, but there are still plenty of bodies about.

  “Do people ever question you about your accent?” Lexington asks, looking over at me.

  I shrug. “Like I said, I don’t go out much. At least half of my customers at the Apothecary are regulars, so they’re used to it. But some people ask.”

  “You certainly sound and look like the incarnation of a Southern Belle,” he says, smiling as we walk along.

  I turn my face away from him, hiding my smile.

  It’s something I tried to hide the entire time I was at Northwestern. My accent is strong, having grown up in a tiny town in Mississippi. To me it was normal. Everyone from back home sounded just like me. But in Illinois, it stuck out like a sore thumb. Brought a lot of attention, and that’s something I’ve never wanted.

  But here in Boston, in a mix of a lot of different accents, I finally accepted that I just needed to be me, and that was okay.

  “In case you’re suddenly embarrassed,” Lexington observes. I look over to see him studying me. “It’s incredibly adorable. And I swear that’s coming from me, not that stuff I inhaled two days ago.”

  I know I’m blushing, but his expression is so genuine, I don’t hide my face again.

  When he looks away, checking out the landmarks around us, I take the time to really study him.

  He’s probably around six feet tall, just a little shorter than Ian. His shoulders are broad and his body well defined without being the gym rat type. Dirty blond hair sits atop his head, always somewhere between messy styled and bed head. It’s hard to tell if he actually puts the effort into it or if he just rolls out of bed that way.

  Somehow it really suits his personality.

  His eyes are bright blue; they’re beautiful, really. And it’s incredible that as a vampire, he’s able to walk around during the day with no pain—thanks to implants in his eyes that Henry created. Artificial pupils that dilate and filter out painful UV rays.

  His lips are thin, framed by a beard that I get the feeling that is there more out of laziness than purposeful style. I know I’ve seen him clean shaven before.

  Lexington’s appearance could be described as semi-purposefully permanently disheveled.

  Casual and relaxed, always without too much thought. But it all blends into something that works, and entirely captures his personality.

  “You’re staring.”

  I jump slightly, instantly pulling my eyes away from him. And feel my face flush hard.

  “It’s okay,” he says without looking at me as we continue walking down the trail. “It’s not fair really. I have an unfair advantage, being a vampire, I can just sense some things, you know? See, you’re a human, and while you’re certainly one of the more deadly, cool ones I know, you don’t have all these extra senses. So you have no idea when I’m staring.”

  I bite my lower lip, fighting the smile. I look away from him, because I can’t stand the idea of him seeing it. “So are you saying that’s something you’ve been doing frequently?”

  “Maybe,” he says so casually.

  It’s really not fair how easily he keeps his cool.

  “Hey, let’s go check this place out,” he says, tilting his head toward the Park Street Church. His eyes meet mine, and I see it all there. He’s giving me a way out of this awkward conversation without embarrassing me.

  I give him a small smile as a thank you, and follow him across the street.

  “You know, I was raised as a Lutheran,” he says as we wait behind a few people to enter the church.

  “Oh yeah?” I say. The group of women in front of us in line chat loudly, too loud considering we’re about to enter a church. One of them does a little double glance over her shoulder, her eyes locking on Lexington.

  “Yep,” he says, oblivious to her approving stare. Except he’s a vampire, and I’m sure he’s not really unaware. “My mother was devout. Took us every week. Made sure we read our scriptures every night. Martin Luther was an ancestor of mine, and she was extremely proud of that fact.”

  We step inside behind the group. The church is rather simple, really, compared to some of the others in Boston. Rows of pews. Simple chandeliers. A grand piano. A cross at the front of the room.

  “Did you believe the same as she did?” I ask as we slowly make a loop through the chapel. I’ve read all the historical signs before. Lexington’s eyes briefly graze over them and I’m sure he can read them much faster than I can.

  Lexington shrugs. “I guess. I never really doubted my mother and she believed it all so deeply. I just sort of took it at face value. I didn’t have anything against it, so I kept going.”

  It really doesn’t take long to complete our loop. Within a few minutes, we make our way back down the front steps and head back onto the trail.

  “I guess it just got hard to attach to religion though when I Resurrected,” he says as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and we continue down the trail.

  “Did you know?” I ask.

  It’s a question that defines so much of a vampire’s life, the line between a choice and an accident. Fear and certainty.

  Lexington nods. “My mother didn’t know at first though. She married my father and I was a year old before she caught him feeding on one of the maids.” He looks over at me, probably expecting to find an expression of shock on my face, but I’ve seen way too much to be surprised by something that simple. “She couldn’t cope though. Knowing what he was, being the religious woman she was. She couldn’t accept it all. I think my father must have really loved her, because he finally let her go. Let her divorce him. Not sure how to feel about the fact that he walked away from me so easily though.”

  “You never saw him again?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “My mother would write him letters now and then, telling him about me. But he left when I was three and I never saw him again. I tried to find him once, about a hundred years ago, but I think he must have been dead. No trace of him.”

  “I’m sorry,” I offer. “I imagine that must have been hard.”

  Lexington shrugs his shoulders. “You know that saying, ‘time heals all wounds?’ It’s true for the most part. I’ve had a long time to get over it.”

  He said the other day that he was born in 1851. He’s had over 150 years to get over it.

  Immortality is the part of vampirism that I have the hardest time wrapping my head around.

  I’ll die in seventy or so years. But so many of the others that I know will still look the same as they do now, living on for eternity so long as they can avoid a stake to the heart or a beheading.

  “But she didn’t hide what you were from you?” I ask, returning to the history of Lexington.

  He shakes his head. “No, she made sure I knew what my history was. Took me a long time to fully understand what that meant. I don’t think it really connected until I was probably about sixteen or so, when she tried to explain to me that I had a choice in when I wanted to stop aging.”

  “I can’t even imagine,” I say. Because to stop aging, he had to die first.

  “Yeah,” he says with a short laugh. “The concept of dying, but not staying dead was a little hard to get a good grasp on. She’d been telling me that someday I’d want to drink blood, but the death part was a little out there for me.”

  I’ve grown so desensitized to everything in the vampire world, but origin stories from the mouths of those who have lived it put things in perspective.

  “My younger siblings stood guard around the house when I decided twenty-four sounded just right to stop aging.”

  I look around to be sure no one is too close to overhear the very peculiar story I’m being told. Thankfully no one walks nearby.

  “Half siblings?” I ask.

  He nods. “My mom remarried when I was six. Had three more kids.”
br />   I look over at him, my brows furrowing. “You know, I’ve known you for six years, yet I just realized I have no idea what your last name is.”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “Lexington Dawes. It’s nice to meet you, Elle Ward.”

  “Be nice,” I say, giving him a little look.

  He laughs again. “Laugh a little. It’s healthy for you.”

  I just shake my head. I’ve smiled and laughed more in the last three days than I did in the previous three months.

  “So what’s the deal with the strange name?” I ask. “Can’t say I’ve ever met, or even heard of another Lexington.”

  “I came first, dubbed by my mother as Lexington,” he explains. “Next followed my sister, Concord. Then my brother Lincoln, and lastly my baby sister Cambridge.”

  “Aw,” I say, dawning lighting in my mind. “The Battle of Lexington and Concord.”

  “And all the surrounding battles and history,” he says, nodding. “My great-grandfather was a big to do with it all. So my mother honored him by naming us after our legacy.”

  “So you really do have some deep roots in Massachusetts.”

  He nods. “Our family moved north to Maine in the early eighteen hundreds, but my family history is spread all throughout the New England area.”

  I look over at him as we walk. “I get why it was so hard for you when the Allaways essentially exiled you to the South.”

  He looks over at me, his expression deep and grateful. “Roots run deep. And living your very long life for so long in one place makes it hard to uproot and transplant.”

  I nod. “But you’ve been happy being a part of the House of Conrath, right?”

  “Yeah,” he says as a smile pulls at his mouth. “I mean, I was a part of the House of Allaway for thirty-two years. After slowly losing all of my siblings to old age and disease over the years, and being on my own for a long time, I started getting lonely. A brief infatuation with a woman who was one of their House members brought me to them, and I never left.”

  A small cemetery spreads out to the side of King’s Chapel. Old and ancient, the headstones are well worn, some of them difficult to read after hundreds of years of weathering. We slowly wander through, taking in the names of the dead.

  “I had some friendships in the House of Allaway,” Lexington says quietly. “But it wasn’t family. I can’t say there was any real love in that House. After the trade, once I finally got over myself, I started seeing that Alivia actually cared about all of us. It had been a long time since I’d been a part of a family, but I still remembered what that felt like. She might have had a rocky start, but Alivia is a good person.”

  I nod. My sister-in-law had a long road in figuring out her place as a Royal and a House leader, but once she got there, she shined. And continues to do so.

  “I’m sorry you’re out of place once more,” I say, looking over at him. “I’m sure it isn’t easy being sent away from your home again.”

  He reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a little squeeze. “I can’t say I mind. As much as I do enjoy being part of the House of Conrath, it’s kind of nice being back close to home.”

  I give him a little smile, tucking a loose hair behind my ear.

  “And are your fingers always colder than icicles?” he laughs.

  “And somehow my toes are always worse,” I chuckle back.

  There are a lot of historical sites to see along the Freedom Trail. The Boston Massacre Site, Faneuil Hall, the Paul Revere House. America is young compared to a lot of countries, but Boston’s history is several hundred years deep, and its foundation is solid.

  Twilight falls on the city as we round into the Paul Revere Mall, which is more of a park than anything. The end of our trip today is in sight, the Old North Church, when Lexington suddenly stiffens, stopping dead in his tracks.

  “What is it?” I ask. Every muscle in my body instinctually tightens. My hand slips into my purse where my dart gun rests.

  “Follow me,” he says quietly. His hand wraps around mine, and he’s suddenly pulling me off the trail and back behind a building. The second we’re out of sight, he loops my hand over his head and his hands grip me, hoisting me up on his back.

  And then we’re flying.

  Vampires are incredibly fast. So fast the human eye can make out little more than a blur.

  That’s what the buildings, people, and cars around us look like to me.

  Lexington darts through the city, running so fast I can’t even feel his feet beating against the sidewalks and roads. So fast the scream catches in my throat.

  He suddenly comes to a halt and my stomach heaves. My head spins and I nearly fall over when he puts me down.

  A noise settles into my ears, one I’ve heard before.

  A blissful moan accompanied by a sucking sound.

  “Stay here,” Lexington says quietly, his eyes fixed on an alleyway. My line of sight follows him as he darts across the road.

  There, in the alleyway, stands a woman, completely motionless, while a man and a woman latch onto her neck, drinking.

  “Hey guys,” Lexington says, walking up. They startle, dropping the woman, who collapses to the ground. “How’s your evening going?”

  “We’re not sharing,” the man laughs, his eyes glowing brilliant red in the darkening night. “So if a threesome is what you’re looking for, you might wanna’ check elsewhere.”

  “Not tonight,” Lexington says, trying very hard to keep his tone casual. “But you know, both of you drinking from the same person is a pretty quick way to kill someone or turn them.”

  The woman laughs. “So. We’ve been drinking as much as we like and there’s been no repercussions for having fun. Not in years. There’s no one left to say no.”

  She drops to the ground and her fangs extend. Lexington darts forward, dragging the unconscious woman away from the vampire. “Maybe not,” he says, backing away another two steps when she hisses at him. “But see, there’s this new thing from King Cyrus, that if you turn anyone, it’s punishable by death.”

  “Not if no one is around to narc,” the man snarls, taking a step toward Lexington.

  “Really guys,” he says, his tone tired and impatient. “You really want to make this get ugly?”

  “You’re the one who came at us,” the woman says. “We were minding our own business.”

  Suddenly she lunges forward, her hands outstretched. With one hand, Lexington wraps his fingers around her throat, spinning and flinging her against the side of the building.

  I jump forward a step, pulling my dart gun from my bag. My heart pounds in my chest.

  The man jumps, sailing through the air.

  The shot is perfect.

  I press the narrow shaft to my lips.

  And blow.

  The dart hits him in the neck, just as he drops on top of Lexington.

  His entire body instantly starts seizing up. He rolls off of Lexington, his muscles twitching, hissing in pain as he curls into a ball on the sidewalk.

  The woman, seeing her partner incapacitated, roars in anger and rushes at Lexington as he sets the drained woman on the ground. Her hands wrap around his throat as I load another dart into my gun.

  He slams her back against the building, his jaw clenched tight, his face coiled into a snarl. His eyes instantly flash from blue to brilliant, shining red. Black veins sprout out from his eyes, racing over his face.

  A noise down the road pulls my eyes to the left. A group of young men laugh and talk as they walk down the sidewalk.

  Straight toward us.

  “Lexington,” I breathe, knowing he’ll hear me.

  He glances in my direction, but it’s enough distraction for the woman to push away from the wall, sending them crashing to the other side of the alley. Lexington’s head bounces off the brick wall.

  The group continues down the road, oblivious to the scene they’re about to witness.

  “Lexington,” I say, urgency bleeding into my voice.
r />   With a grunt, he spins away from the wall, grabbing her by the front of her shirt. He whips her through the air, slamming her down on the ground onto her back. In the same movement, he pulls a stake from the inside pocket of his jacket, and slams it down into her chest.

  He stands, huffing hard, and straightens his clothes. He takes one step out of the alley, checking on the position of the oncoming group before darting back into the alley. In a blur, he disappears down the alley, dragging the two Born. When he reappears, he crooks a finger at me.

  I run across the street, catching the eyes of the group, but disappear into the alley with Lexington.

  He scoops the woman up into his arms, and we set out quickly down the alley.

  “Is she still alive?” I ask as I struggle to keep up with his quick pace.

  “Barely,” he says, looking down at her as the glow in his eyes fades. “She’s lost a lot of blood. You got any of that cure with you?”

  “Of course,” I say, reaching into my bag. I keep three doses on me at all times, plus the one around my neck for myself if ever needed.

  “Give it to her now,” he says as we tuck around the corner of the alley. I glance back just in time to see the group come into view of the alley. I catch the eye of one of the guys, just before slipping around the corner.

  I take out a needle and jab it into her shoulder, pressing the plunger.

  “We need to take her to a hospital,” I say. “She won’t turn, but without turning, she might die. She’ll need a big transfusion.”

  Lexington nods, and I pull up the closest hospital on my phone.

  “See that coffee shop?” he says as we get to the end of this alley. He nods his head in the direction of it, across the street and down the block a little way. “I want you to wait for me there. I’m going to get her to the hospital, she needs to get there quick. You got more of those toxins?”

  I nod. “I’m okay. You get her to help.”

  He meets my eyes, looking for confirmation that I’m good. He nods once he finds it, and instantly, he’s gone.

  I wait anxiously with a chai tea between my hands for twenty minutes at the coffee shop. My right leg bounces up and down, anxiety crawling through my veins.