Maeve cracked the bathroom door and peeked out. Ander sat on his bed with his laptop and Will was gone. The tension left her body as she padded to Ander and sat next to him. It wasn't until she settled with her head resting on his left shoulder that she was aware of her actions. He didn't pull away from her and continued to work.
She glanced at the screen, but it seemed blurry, so she didn't read it. After a few moments, her eyes closed. Sometime later, they fluttered open. Bright light peeked through the curtains, hit her eyes and made her squint. She was still propped up against Ander, with no clue how long she'd been there sleeping against him. Embarrassed, she pulled away and sat straight, rubbing her face.
He turned to study her. "That was not a long enough nap. You are still pale."
She cleared her throat. "I'm fine."
"No, you are still tired. Your skin is always two shades lighter when you need rest," he said softly.
Maeve pinched her lips. That was something her father had always said when she was younger. Hearing Ander say it made her feel odd. Part of her was painfully aware of how long it had been since she'd spoken to her father, or any member of her family. She looked down, her eyes burned. She'd never speak to any of them again.
"Would you like to lie down? I can move."
She shook her head. Did Ander notice that because he studied people? Or did he just pay more attention to her? She pulled her teeth over her bottom lip. The sadness of losing her family made her chest hurt.
"You shouldn't have added anything to my tattoo without asking," she blurted out. Damn it, she hadn't meant to bring it up like that, but she wanted a distraction from her sadness. "I would've agreed, if you'd told me, but you should still ask." She raised her face after blinking her tears away.
"I..." He faltered and lowered his chin.
"I understand why and that it's what you do. It's your job to take care of things, but..." she moved her hand to cup his cheek and chin and tilted his head to see him and almost couldn't finish. His sharp beauty cut through her defenses and caused her to question why she wanted to correct him. "Please ask next time, okay?"
"Yes," he replied, and held her gaze.
His coolness cascaded over her in gentle waves, her previous forlorn emotions evaporated. Her heart thundered in her chest and she bit her lip. She needed to look away, but didn't want to. She wanted to pull him closer to her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and gently moved her away. Instantly, the sparks that had spread over her skin stopped. She snatched her hand back as coldness washed over her and caused her to shiver.
"I only meant to protect you. Both Will and I discussed the best way to achieve - we have not been able to..." He raked his hair back as he frowned.
"It's okay. You weren't supposed to do this, either of you. I'm pretty sure in the Soldiers of Night handbook there isn't a chapter about dragging some woman around that needs protection all the time."
"Handbook?" His lips tilted up in the corners.
"Sure, you know, when you're in the Soldiers of Night school or boot-camp?" Her tone was light and teasing.
He chuckled. "There is no such handbook, but you are correct. We do not have a plan in place for watching over someone that travels with us for any length of time."
"What do you normally do with someone like me?"
"There are safe houses someone would stay at until the situation could be dealt with."
"Why am I not in a safe house?"
Ander shifted and averted his eyes. "It was determined-"
"Don't do that. Look at me - don't hide." She craved touching him again, but was nervous because he'd rejected her.
He slowly turned to face her again.
"Be honest."
He grimaced. "Will did not wish for you to be in a safe house, nor did I. We broke code by choosing to keep you with us."
Her chest warmed as the truth of his words seeped into her. "That's why Mason doesn't like me. If I were her, I wouldn't like me either. Why did you do that? Why did Will?"
"Will has not yet come to terms with why he kept you with us," he paused. "I... did not want you to leave."
Maeve leaned closer to not to miss his last words. She wanted to ask why he didn't want her to leave, but wasn't sure if she could handle his answer. Maeve forced the butterflies in her stomach away when she considered he might be interested in her. More likely, it was out of his fascination with studying humans. Technically, she was the first one who'd made it abundantly clear that she wanted to connect with him and meant him no harm. For Ander, it was an unfamiliar experience. Perhaps he just wanted to see what it'd be like to have a human connection with someone other than Will or Mason. She was the one who kept making advances without meaning to, and he was the one who kept gently pushing her away.
She cleared her throat. "Okay, so before Will interrupted you, you were going to tell me about undead creatures — at least some of them. You mentioned a wight, a draugr, and a revenant?" She leaned against the headboard.
She frowned when Ander relaxed and began clicking and typing on his laptop. Damn it, she'd made him uncomfortable again. Part of her was disgusted by her behavior. Whether she meant to keep making advances or not, she kept doing it. Maybe it was some odd chemical reaction between them, as Ander thought. She swallowed. That was a lie, at least on her part. A nagging piece of her wanted to see what would happen if they kissed just once. Maeve had never considered herself the type who would even consider cheating on her boyfriend, but there she was, contemplating it - kind of.
"Yes, as I mentioned, almost all of them carry some level of corruption in their aura. It triggers either a fearful or aggressive reaction in most, or both. There is a loose hierarchy among the undead. The revenants are the leaders, most likely because they are the most coherent and able to plan."
"Do you mean they can think like people?" Maeve asked.
"Yes, for the most part. Revenants are brought back for some injustice done to them, so they are often focused on seeking revenge versus long-term plans. However, if given a good enough cause, they can be redirected for short periods of time and rally the other undead for action."
"But they're still dead, right?"
"Yes, technically, they are dead. Their bodies are in a sort of stasis, caught between life and death. Most of their systems still function and they feel pain, but have a larger tolerance for it. Once their wrong has been avenged, they die."
"You mean die again?"
"Yes, their bodies break down quickly after they have completed their task."
"So, if they wanted to keep living, they could just ignore getting their revenge?" Maeve studied Ander's profile, appreciating how the light from his screen highlighted his sharp cheekbones and full lips.
"Yes, but it is very difficult for them to ignore their thirst for revenge. It is what drives them, defines them. It is always in their thoughts and a constant struggle to resist action. It is said if they try, it will drive them mad and force them to seek their revenge, anyway."
"So revenants come back for only one reason- to avenge whatever their cause is and then die." Her view lowered to his hands as they moved over the keyboard. He had long fingers, like a musician or artist tended to have. Despite the horrific scars on the backs of his wrists, she still found his hands attractive. Images of him running his fingers across her collarbone as he slid off her bra strap made her warm.
"Yes. They are the ones that most resemble humans. Often they appear human, perhaps pale or off in some way, but can still pass for a human," he replied. "Draugrs were obviously once human, but now resemble something akin to a zombie. Less flesh ripped off and more of an emaciated appearance. They have exceptional sight and a vigorous constitution, making it challenging to fight them. They also do not seem to feel pain. We believe they are capable of communication, but have never heard them speak. They have directly followed orders voiced to them, though."
"Wait, when you say "we do", you mean you and Will? Or the Soldiers of Night?" She sat forward.
"Both." He shrugged.
Maeve sat back again and thought about his words. It was not a surprise they'd fought with the undead, but something about the way he answered made her mind churn.
"Wights are similar to draugrs but they have a sharper, more angled appearance, excellent hearing and strength, even the ones who appear more like skeletons. They do not feel pain and, once engaged, will not stop until they are destroyed. They cannot stand down, even if they wanted to, as they have no free will of their own. When created, whoever raised them has complete control over them, so they serve until they are destroyed."
"So wights can't happen on their own? They have to be made?"
"Raised, yes."
"Okay, raised and then they're slaves?"
"Yes."
She frowned. "So, you have to destroy them to get to whoever controls them?"
He nodded.
Maeve narrowed her eyes. "What if they're just guarding something for whoever controls them and you find them? What do you do then?"
His movements stopped. "You are already aware of the answer to that."
"I am, but I want you to say it, anyway."
"Why?" He slid his eyes to her.
"Because I need to hear it from you, and don't give me the directive of the Soldiers of Night."
"We destroy them." His voice was firm, but his eyes told her the truth. He didn't feel good about it.
"Even though you know they're slaves and didn't want to be a wight?"
"Yes, without question," he answered. Again, his tone sounded assured and again, his eyes told her he wasn't so sure. "I do not understand why we need to discuss this. You are... aware of my actions, the choices I have made, even in the short time you have been with us."
A flicker of pain passed through his expression that she would've missed if she weren't staring at him. The tiny flicker gave her hope. Little by little, whether or not he was aware of it, he was feeling. Re-connecting to everything around him. She felt her resolve soften just a bit, and a crease formed between his eyebrows.
"I am," she replied in a softer tone than she'd meant to use. "I thought vampires were undead, too. Shouldn't they be on top of the food chain?" she asked to change the subject.
He blinked and returned his focus to the laptop. "That is a point of debate that has caused many arguments among the Soldiers of Night. The problem is, we do not have relations with any vampires to either prove or disprove their status as undead. I have performed autopsies on several vampires, but they have not been conclusive. My research has not provided the data needed to be irrefutable. From what I can personally discern, there are two types: born vampires and created vampires. Even with that knowledge... it is still not definitive," he grumbled. "Either way, from what we know, the vampires have little to do with the other undead. Perhaps they consider themselves superior, because they can mingle with humans."
"So they think they're above their rotting, shambling counterparts," Maeve said with amusement. "I mean, Lady Thana didn't feel alive to me, but the others... didn't seem that different from anyone else. I knew they were vampires, but if they hadn't all been clustered together and I didn't know, I may not have realized. Thana felt wrong and not human at all."
Ander was still looking at his screen. "She is not a human. She is a creature."
"Mort felt more human, a screwed up, tormented human but-"
"Mort is not a human, he is a vampire." The harshness in his voice caught her off guard.
She flicked her eyes to him. His tone reminded her of Will's when he didn't like something she'd said. Why did her mentioning Mort hit a nerve with him?
"I know that, he knows that, but he felt bad for his actions, his choices."
"Not enough to destroy himself so he would no longer commit them," he said quickly, too quickly.
She perched forward. "He doesn't want to die."
Ander's jaw tightened.
"It didn't sound like he had much freedom. Maybe he can't make the choices he should. Or, maybe he needs someone to remind him of why he should try to get away from Thana."
Ander's body locked up, his face angled at the screen. "He chooses to stay."
"I don't believe that," she said in a measured tone.
He turned his angry glare to her. Maeve thought it should intimidate her. Any rational person would be, with the murderous look in his eyes. Instead, she felt lightheaded, and tiny sparks raced up and down her legs.
"There is no reason to discuss this."
Maeve felt heat spread along her limbs. "Yes, there is. You want to condemn him for his choices, because he's a murderer in your eyes." She licked her lips, suddenly very thirsty. "Many creatures would say the same about you or Will. That doesn't mean they're right. Because they're not. But it also means you aren't, either." Her mind was fuzzy, each word more difficult than the last. "Why are you getting so upset about Mort?" Her vision was off; it was blurred around the edges.
Ander snapped his head around and stared at the wall on the other side of the room. Maeve felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped on her.
"I... do not know," he said in a low voice. "Mort is a monster and you defend him. Kevin was a monster and you still feel guilt over his death. Why are you with us if you disagree with what we do?"
"Because I don't, not the way you think I do. There are good people and there are bad people. Just like there are good creatures and there are monsters. You know that, you told me as much."
He turned back to her.
Her hand strayed to his, that rested on the laptop. "I just, I need to know that you can see the difference. I know Will can't, but you... you can."
"It does not matter if I can. I have a duty," he began, but then faltered.
"I understand. Well, not really. Not the way you do. It's important you can see the difference." She squeezed his hand. "You can make the choices Will can't."
"I... cannot," he whispered.
"Not yet, but you will," she told him, certain of her words, even though they didn't make sense to her. Her intuition urged her to continue. "I'm here with you now and I'll still be here then, too," she told him, her tone and cadence shifting into something that sounded almost musical.