18
~Vaela
I lean against the doorway to Hale's office.
"Eyla is asleep." I inform him. Mercifully, it took little coaxing, having wrung all her energy out from the stress. "She will be okay."
Hale sweeps a hand back through his hair, dark waves raining back down over his forehead. He's been in here, simmering in his own anger. I came to terms with what happened to me a long time ago, so seeing Hale experience my death with fresh emotion is confronting.
"And you?" He asks gently.
He speaks to me like he's willing and ready to envelop me in a meaningful embrace if I need it. I'm almost weak enough to consider it.
"I'm numb," I murmur pitifully.
His gaze softens. "Your grief will come."
I practically fall into the room, leaning against the wall. I can't be alone, not yet. My fear is that once the lights darken, and I'm left to my own thoughts, my carefully constructed wall of valour will tumble down.
"I don't want it to," I whisper. Hale exhales, as if he's working through my pain with me.
"Considering what you've been through, I would say you're stronger than you think." He's trying to make me feel better, but there are mere scraps of self confidence remaining inside the most vacant parts of me.
I thought I didn't love Will. His death has hit me hard, and now I'm left reeling.
"Why would someone do that to him?" I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. Flashes of Eyla covered in Will's blood, of what he must have looked like when she found him all flood my mind, making me wince.
It haunts me, knowing exactly what he felt in his last moment. I've experienced it myself.
Death. Murder.
"I wouldn't be surprised if he had enemies. We will figure it out." Hale rests his elbows against the surface of his desk, his surety relieving.
I swallow tightly. "Ah yes. Revenge."
Hale's eyes darken. Revenge for my death has always seemed pointless to me. My past lover killed me, and lived on as a mortal. I knew there was no chance for me to make him pay for what he did, so I moved on.
For Hale, however, he is very capable of inflicting revenge on anyone who has crossed him. Including my murderer.
"Why are you so opposed to me returning the favour to your murderer?" He asks calmly, although I hear the silent rage simmering within his tone.
"It's not how Fate intends for things to be played out," I reply simply.
And I don't want the trauma of that experience coming back if I have to see him again, or even have to utter his name to Hale.
He stands swiftly, his smoothness and grace not altering despite the anger he attempts to manage. "There is no need for you to be so noble."
"And there is no need for you to overreact like this." I'm not upset at him, I'm just struggling to comprehend why he cares so much.
Once over dinner he explained that his emotions often feel as though they are put through a filter, being far less intense and overwhelming then what others experience.
But I'm witnessing how untrue that is with me.
Hale rounds the desk, gloved finger tips sliding over the surface of his polished desk. His gaze pins me, a ferocity to them that has me pressing further into the wall.
"Overreact?" He seethes. "And how, exactly, am I supposed to react?"
He doesn't stop his advances until he's right in front of me, contemplating if he should use his body to pin me against the wall, or whether his gaze is enough.
"You should just brush it off. It was a long time ago, I'm not upset by it anymore, so you shouldn't be either," I assure him, my voice quivering as much as my body is.
A muscle in Hale's jaw feathers as his eyes trace over me.
I stay painfully still as he leans forward, resting his palms against the wall on either side of my head. I'm not concerned he's going to hurt me, but my heart still patters against my ribs.
"Do you think I like hearing that your throat was slit as a mortal?" He growls softly.
It's a miracle I'm still standing, let alone able to respond.
He leans imperceptibly closer, breath fanning against my skin, silvery eyes glaring into mine. "You think I like standing here, knowing I can do something, and yet you're telling me I shouldn't care?"
He's so close, I would think he's considering kissing me if he didn't look so mad. Even I'm considering kissing him, for a selfish, fleeting moment.
I straighten. "Stop acting like you owe me something. You shouldn't even care."
He stares at me for a long moment, before he pushes away from the wall, backing away. "Too bad, I do."
My legs quiver as I stare at his back, unsure how to feel.
Death to a Pureblood is not the same as it is to me. I expected Hale to be apologetic, or maybe even to find some humour in it. But to get this angry about what happened so long ago to me is confronting.
"Well stop then, because I'm not telling you who killed me," I murmur. I'm not going to willingly participate in a murder, whether he deserves it or not.
Hale digs his hands into his hair, dark strands raining around his hair and face as he holds my gaze. "It will take me seconds to hunt them down..."
Seconds. That's only slightly terrifying.
"You're not my keeper, Hale. You don't get to do these things, okay?" I clarify. I'm grateful for his help so far, but what he is willing to do for me can only extend so far. I owe him enough.
He monitors me with a now unreadable gaze. "I'm trying to do right by you."
"Right by me is forgetting all of this, okay. We should be hunting Will's murderer instead," I remind him.
Someone is out there, responsible for Will's murder. I have little faith in the authorities to find who has done this, so I would much rather focus all of my attention on that.
Maybe it's wrong for me to want revenge for Will but not for myself. But I'm so angry and so overwhelmed with grief. I need to do something, whether it is to distract myself or to truly grieve.
"And we will," he levels.
I lean back against the wall, tipping my head back. Pain claws at my heart, the aching pain between my ribs almost unbearable. My throat is tight and dry as I try my hardest to hold back my tears.
"Will is dead now, and it's probably my fault," I murmur lowly, my voice strangled.
My control starts to slip, tears gathering in my eyes before streaming down my cheeks. Accepting that someone I once knew is gone is too hard to accomplish right now.
Hale frowns, stepping forward again.
"Hey," he murmurs soothingly. "It's not your fault."
"How can you know? I mean, one of those immortals probably killed him because he knows me, a mortal," I say, wiping at the tears that continue to flow regardless.
He shakes his head. "I doubt that's the case."
At this point, I just let the tears fall, trying to calm my panicked breathing. "He shouldn't have died, Hale...Maybe if I was still with him-"
Hale strides forward, grabbing either side of my arms. I look up at him, his face foggy in my tear-filled gaze, but there is no doubting the look in his eyes.
"Stop. Stop blaming yourself," he growls, shaking me slightly.
"I don't know what else to do," I splutter.
Suddenly my knees give out, and I'm on the floor. Waves of grief and pain roll over me, pounding into my head, into my heart. This is all too much. I want to escape it...the guilt, the blame, the flashes of intrusive thoughts of Will's death that was so alike to mine.
Hale stoops down, grabbing my arm to drape it over his neck.
"Come on," he murmurs. Before I can protest, his arms sweep under my legs and back, and he's sweeping me up against his chest with such ease my breath is stolen for me.
I'm so stunned, my manic tears cease for a moment, as Hale leads me from his office and down the hallway. I don't say a word, holding his shoulder, feeling the hidden muscle there. He takes me into my bedroom, laying me down on my bed.
The moment my feet are tucked under the sheets, he sits next to me in the bed, adjusting my pillows behind my head until I'm comfortable.
"You're going to be okay," he murmurs, gazing down at me.
"I can't do this," I tell him, finally able to calm the worst of my panicked breathing. I've dealt with death before, with my parents a long time ago and others. But something about this feels different...It feels like my fault.
His gaze is soft as he tilts his head. "I know."
"I can't live without him. Not when it's my fault," I tell him. In this moment, it feels impossible to move, to stop thinking about this, about Eyla covered in his blood, and the way it felt against my skin when I touched her.
Hale rests his hand on my head, making me wish he would take off his damn gloves sometimes. "Shh. We will find who did this."
"What if we don't?"
"We will. Let this emotion turn from sadness to anger. Let it fuel you into finding who did it," he tells me.
I look up at him. That advice wouldn't usually be the best, but it's all Hale knows. Revenge is clearly something he is familiar with, considering how far he is willing to go to hurt who has hurt me.
Sometimes it's easier to feel anger, then let sadness envelope you.
"Hale..." I drift off, pulling the blanket up to my chin.
"Mmm?"
"Please don't get revenge on him," I whisper. I can feel tiredness tugging at me, eyelids feeling heavy. But I cannot sleep until Hale understands how serious I am.
He frowns. "On who?"
"On the man who killed me. He thought he loved me," I murmur, turning on my side to face him. He's still frowning at me, although his eyes are thoughtful.
"Had he loved you, he wouldn't have killed you," he breathes. "No man who loves you will ever hurt you again, do you understand."
Warmth blooms in my chest, but I refuse to acknowledge it. He says such sweet things sometimes, and they always come at unexpected times. But I have to remember that no matter what he says, I can't allow myself to get attached to him.
"I loved him," I admit, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment from just saying it.
"I will not go to the mortal realm if you do not want me to. But if my path crosses with this man, I cannot be held responsible for my actions," he says.
I smile. "Thank you."
He gets to his feet, looking like he's torn between leaving and staying. "Get some sleep."
"Goodnight, Hale," I say, watching him back out of the room, leaving me to curl up within the sheets, and hope grief doesn't follow me.