After Daybreak Part 8

"Would it bother you if I liked him?"

"I think it would be awesome. The two people I love most in the world loving each other."

She suddenly looks shy and vulnerable. "Then maybe. I don't know."

"He's a really good guy."

She smiles. "That I do know. And he's hot."

She leaves, and the sudden emptiness of the room descends on me. The tape recorder draws my attention, but I turn away and get serious about packing. Just enough clothes to get there and back. With four of us in the car, there won't be room for extras. I'm sure Victor can buy me whatever I need in New Vampiriaa"I kind of doubt they'll accept cash from a human. Actually, maybe a little shopping wouldn't be too bad. Old Family always dress so well. I'm bound to be introduced to designers, tailors, dressmakers.

I pack, unpack, repack about a dozen times. Of course, I'm just avoiding that tape player. I know why. Because I already know what's on it. Not the exact words. I don't know when it was recorded or where. All I know is that the voices on it will be familiar.

The voices will belong to my parents.

The sun is beginning to set, and I know I'm running out of time. If I'm going to do this before I leave, I need to suck it up and do it.

At my desk I keep repositioning the recorder, as if its exact placement will radically affect the outcome of what's on the tape. When I'm satisfied, I take a deep breath and hit play.

The wheels of the tape begin spinning. Static. Then Dad's voice.

"Is it recording?"

"Yes, William."

Mom!

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I just don't want to mess this up."

"William, please, justa""

"Okay, okay. Hi, Dawn, it's Dad here. I'm sitting with your mom and, well, we just wanted you to know how much we love you."

"That's right, dear. Dad and I love you so much. And if you're listening to this, then . . . well, then we aren't there anymore for you."

"We're sorry, Dawn. Whatever happened, we're so sorry. When we signed up for the a.s.signment as delegate, we knew it would be dangerous. We knew the risks, but we also knew the reward. Because we aren't just representing Denver, we're representing humanity. Remember that. Your mom and dad are doing this so that, one day, you won't have to be afraid of the dark."

"Whatever happened, don't blame anyone, Dawn," my mom says. "Don't hold any anger inside, because it'll only rot you, and you're too beautiful, too precious for that. And you're too beloved."

"I want you to know that, no matter what, we always love you, Dawn. And our last thoughts were of you. We love you."

"We love you, Dawn."

"We love you. . . ."

The static rolls on and they're gone again. I shut off the recorder.

And I begin to cry. I put my head in my hands and let everything out. With each tear I feel them, with each deep, choked breath I hear them. I grab the sides of my hoodie and pull it tight around me, like they're right here, holding me. Hugging me.

I miss them so, so much.

I put my hands on the tape recorder, my wet fingertips smearing the tears over the b.u.t.tons, and I whisper . . .

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

Chapter 7.

"Dawn?"

Victor's hand comes to rest on my shoulder. I don't know how long I've been crying. I look up to see him crouching beside me, my balcony door open. He's always moved so silently. I wipe at the tears. "You could have come in through the front door. Rachel is expecting you."

He gives me a wry grin. "Old habits are hard to break."

He's come into my room through the balcony doors so many times. Climbing walls, leaping from balcony to balcony is no challenge to vampires.

"I guess it's time for us to go," I say.

He skims his fingers along my cheek. "First, tell me why you were crying."

I touch the recorder, explain what it is, and tell him that Clive gave it to me before I left his office that afternoon. "I think he felt guilty. I might have died without ever hearing them."

Victor tucks my hair behind my ear. "May I hear them?"

My heart stutters a little at his request. To share something so personal and special with him . . . It would be amazing.

Nodding, I rewind the tape and then press play.

"Is it recording?"

"Yes, William."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I just don't want to mess this up."

"William, please, justa""

"Okay, okay. Hi, Dawn, it's Dad here . . ."

We listen to the voices from the past, but somehow this time it feels like they're right here, talking to both of us. I imagine them by my side or all of us gathered around the dining table, maybe Brady is there, too, and we're just talking and laughing and eating dinner. There aren't any monsters, there aren't any Day Walkers, and the Thirst is still just an urban legend. I close my eyes and Victor puts his hand on mine. I want so badly for the world to be perfect. I feel the tears starting to come again, and when I open my eyes, the world is still the same. But when I look at Victor, it seems just a little bit better.

"They loved you very much," he says. "The human capacity for emotion has always humbled me."

I hesitate, then remind him, "You once told me that you love me."

"But I fear it pales in comparison with what humans can experience."

"You would die for me." He almost did.

"Without hesitation. What I feel for you terrifies me. I shouldn't feel it. And yet I do." Putting his hand behind my head, he leans me down for a kiss. His mouth is tender, gentle, a reflection of him. I love the way he kisses me as though I'm special. I grow warm as yearning takes hold. Maybe I should pack the red silka"

"Dawn . . ."

With a start, I break away from the kiss.

"Dawn . . ."

I look over at the tape recorder. It's still playing.

"I thought it was over," I say.

"I guess there's more on it," Victor says quietly.

"This is Dad. There's something I never told your mother. Something I never told anyone. It's about youra"oura"heritage."

My stomach tightens. I hold my breath, dreading what he might say.

"I'm so sorry I never told you, but I had to protect you. And, well, if we're not there anymore . . ." He sighs, and static plays out of the speakers as he exhales. "It's better that you know than be left in the dark. I hid something for you, Dawn. I hid it in the place I've always hidden things. I . . . I love you, Dawn. I only wanted to keep you safe. And no matter what, you will always be Dawn."

I watch the tape spiral, the magnetic strip wind itself up, containing my parents' words that were only meant to be heard if the worst happened. I listen, hoping that there's more. But the tape grinds to a halt.

No, I think. It can't be true. What Sin told me. It just can't.

"Does that mean anything to you?" Victor asks.

I nod, unable to get the words out, already feeling the tears beginning to well up.

"Dawn . . ." Concern is deep in his voice.

"I have to think. What hiding place is he talking about?"

"You're growing pale. Why won't you tell me what's happening?"

Because I don't want to be what I am.

I look around my room, and it's immediately obvious. I go over to the music box that used to house little presents from my father as I grew up: pieces of candy, tiny notes, maybe even a few quarters that I could put into my piggy bank and hear the clink clink as they fell. But how could there be anything else to it?

"This is where he always hid stuff for me," I say, Victor joining me. "There's a little hidden compartment, but the only things in it are things that I've hidden."

I open it and listen to the music play, the tiny disc somewhere inside the woodwork, turning slowly and playing its song. I've always listened to it, but I've never really looked at the box itself, just what was inside. I turn it over, examine it from every angle. I tap the green felt bottom. It sounds off. Then I gauge its depth in relation to the rest of the box, and that's when I realize: "It's a false bottom," I say. "It can be lifted out. But how?"

I grab the tiny wooden divider that separates the box into two compartments and try to lift from there, but it doesn't budge.

"Let me take a look at it."

Victor puts his hand on the box, his fingers lightly touching key points. The music stops.

"Wind it up again," he says.

I do so, and when I let go of the turn key, the music begins all over again. Victor closes his eyes and listens. It's like he's in another world, his vampiric senses picking up impossible things.

"There's a note," he says, "I can feel it. Whenever the music wheel hits that spot, it s.h.i.+fts something inside the box. I think it unlocks it."

I wait in silence as Victor listens to the song again and again and again, like a fencer waiting for that right moment to strike. His fingers clench the felt divider and then . . . pop.

The false bottom detaches perfectly, and Victor sets it aside. In the box, a tiny strip of leather is wrapped around a bundle of doc.u.ments, everything secured with a rubber band. I pull it out and close the box; the music stops.

"Dawn, do you know what this is?" Victor asks.

I'm afraid I do, but I'm not ready to face it yet.

"We really need to get going," I say. "I can look at this later."

"We can take the time now."

I shake my head. "Not yet."

"When you're ready, just let me know. You don't have to face it alone."

I simply nod.

First we have to pa.s.s through the gauntlet of Rachel and Jeff. Needless to say, both were caught off guard to see me walking out of my room with Victor holding my duffel bag. But considering what my life has encompa.s.sed during the past month, I'm a little past the scolding-for-bad-behavior phase.

"The balcony," Rachel says, nodding, as though she just answered a question she'd asked herself about how Victor had gotten past her unnoticed. Then she quickly s.h.i.+fts into protective mode. "You'd better take good care of her."

"I can a.s.sure you," Victor says, "that if she comes to any harm, it will be because Faith, Richard, and I are all dead."

Instead of comforting her, his words only make her narrow her eyes. "Don't get dead."

Victor grins. "Trust me. I'm not planning on it."

Rachel embraces me tightly. "At least I get a hug instead of a note this time."

I squeeze her hard. "This is lots better."