Right now, I felt an overwhelming sense of danger, and it centered around him.
But there was nothing I could do about that, nor could I keep him from ignoring my calls and texts, so I put my fear to good use, plunging into boxes I hadn’t touched for more than a year.
Some things I knew without question I wanted to keep, like my box of off-season clothes. Others took more examination, like the four boxes from my old room. I snorted at the piles of stuffed animals and the high school trophies, and from them all, I took out the things that I really cared about and condensed them down into a single box.
The rest went out into the pile in the living room. It was long past time to let them go. All that was left then were two boxes of books—which were staying—and three boxes of sentimental items that had belonged to my grandmother.
Even in my agitated state, I couldn’t part with any of them. So I closed the boxes back up and shoved them deep under the bed on its cinderblock risers, along with the others I’d kept. But now the dresser and the desk and even the floor of the closet was free of boxes, and for the first time in over a year, my dorm room then looked like a place where someone actually lived rather than merely a place to store things, with hardly any room for me.
But it didn’t felt much like a victory, not even after I turned my agitation into a whirlwind of dusting and spraying and wiping. I couldn’t feel any kind of triumph with the constant warning buzz going off in the back of my head.
I kept checking my phone, expecting a call, a message, something from Dorian. I texted him back, and then a second time, and as the time crept toward midnight, I risked calling him again.
I got his answering service again, and if anything, the man at the other end of the line was even less helpful than before.
So I took my shower and climbed into my bed and stared across the tiny room that suddenly seemed too big for me. And at some point in the wee hours of the morning, I fell into a restless sleep.
I woke up to a nightmare-shadowed morning, feeling more tired than I had when I’d gone to sleep. My apprehension had grown to a state of physical nausea. I managed to stumble to my classes, but I didn’t process a word that the professors said.
When the promised call finally came right in the middle of my financial markets class, I practically elevated out of my seat as I answered it. Ignoring the professor’s disapproving gaze, I mumbled an apology and stumbled from the room, Clarissa shadowing me, as always.
“Hello?” I said. Or rather, I tried to say because the word had a hard time getting out of my suddenly dry throat. I swallowed and tried again. “Hello? Dorian?”
“I can’t talk long, but I wanted to return your call.”
Even though his voice was perfectly neutral, almost flat, I sagged against the wall at hearing it, closing my eyes.
“Why haven’t you called? What have you been doing?” I demanded. My voice was too shrill, and another student passing in the hall gave me a contemptuous look.
I’m a crazy girlfriend? I snarled the thought at his retreating form. Let’s see how you handle an eternal vampire bond that turns your brain inside out. Especially when you’re certain your vampire is doing something stupidly dangerous and won’t even tell you about it.
“I called a series of councils, both closed, strictly among the Adelphoi, and open, allowing others to make their cases,” Dorian said, as if I had casually asked how his day had gone. “Together, we had to assign official responsibility to the Kyrioi and decide on what actions were permissible to take in response to this insult to our faction. We established jus ad bellum, and we are now taking further steps as a consequence of that resolution.”
I shook my head in frustration even though I knew he couldn’t see me. He had to know that none of that made any sense at all to me. That could only mean that he was hiding things
But there was nothing I could do about that, nor could I keep him from ignoring my calls and texts, so I put my fear to good use, plunging into boxes I hadn’t touched for more than a year.
Some things I knew without question I wanted to keep, like my box of off-season clothes. Others took more examination, like the four boxes from my old room. I snorted at the piles of stuffed animals and the high school trophies, and from them all, I took out the things that I really cared about and condensed them down into a single box.
The rest went out into the pile in the living room. It was long past time to let them go. All that was left then were two boxes of books—which were staying—and three boxes of sentimental items that had belonged to my grandmother.
Even in my agitated state, I couldn’t part with any of them. So I closed the boxes back up and shoved them deep under the bed on its cinderblock risers, along with the others I’d kept. But now the dresser and the desk and even the floor of the closet was free of boxes, and for the first time in over a year, my dorm room then looked like a place where someone actually lived rather than merely a place to store things, with hardly any room for me.
But it didn’t felt much like a victory, not even after I turned my agitation into a whirlwind of dusting and spraying and wiping. I couldn’t feel any kind of triumph with the constant warning buzz going off in the back of my head.
I kept checking my phone, expecting a call, a message, something from Dorian. I texted him back, and then a second time, and as the time crept toward midnight, I risked calling him again.
I got his answering service again, and if anything, the man at the other end of the line was even less helpful than before.
So I took my shower and climbed into my bed and stared across the tiny room that suddenly seemed too big for me. And at some point in the wee hours of the morning, I fell into a restless sleep.
I woke up to a nightmare-shadowed morning, feeling more tired than I had when I’d gone to sleep. My apprehension had grown to a state of physical nausea. I managed to stumble to my classes, but I didn’t process a word that the professors said.
When the promised call finally came right in the middle of my financial markets class, I practically elevated out of my seat as I answered it. Ignoring the professor’s disapproving gaze, I mumbled an apology and stumbled from the room, Clarissa shadowing me, as always.
“Hello?” I said. Or rather, I tried to say because the word had a hard time getting out of my suddenly dry throat. I swallowed and tried again. “Hello? Dorian?”
“I can’t talk long, but I wanted to return your call.”
Even though his voice was perfectly neutral, almost flat, I sagged against the wall at hearing it, closing my eyes.
“Why haven’t you called? What have you been doing?” I demanded. My voice was too shrill, and another student passing in the hall gave me a contemptuous look.
I’m a crazy girlfriend? I snarled the thought at his retreating form. Let’s see how you handle an eternal vampire bond that turns your brain inside out. Especially when you’re certain your vampire is doing something stupidly dangerous and won’t even tell you about it.
“I called a series of councils, both closed, strictly among the Adelphoi, and open, allowing others to make their cases,” Dorian said, as if I had casually asked how his day had gone. “Together, we had to assign official responsibility to the Kyrioi and decide on what actions were permissible to take in response to this insult to our faction. We established jus ad bellum, and we are now taking further steps as a consequence of that resolution.”
I shook my head in frustration even though I knew he couldn’t see me. He had to know that none of that made any sense at all to me. That could only mean that he was hiding things
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