Aria and Will Page 14

  Her entire body protested when she slipped out of the bed, three days of almost non-stop fighting crashing on her with aches and pains she couldn’t ignore anymore. She embraced them instead. Pain and tiredness meant she had survived.

  As much as she liked the idea of wearing Will’s clothes, they were too large to be practical. She limped down to her apartment just a few floors below and put on her dress uniform, the one usually reserved for official ceremonies. She wasn’t only going back because she was part of the Guard; she was returning to work because she was a Head of Squadron and she had work to do. If she stumbled on Will and things went as badly as she expected, she would need every bit of confidence she could muster.

  The most recent roster of her squadron in hand, she first limped to the hospital. The smells of blood and antiseptic jumped at her as soon as she entered the overcrowded lobby. Almost five years earlier, she had awakened to a new life with the same scents around her. She couldn’t help wondering how many soldiers had not been offered the same chance in the past few days.

  All she needed to do to know was step in the small room reserved for the Guard’s hierarchy and sit down in front of the computer there. Black on white, the numbers had never been grimmer. She read line after line—number of soldiers admitted for treatment, number of soldiers who had been dead on arrival, who had died in surgery, who were likely to die within twenty-four hours. Her jaw contracted with each number until she thought her teeth would crack.

  A different search yielded results just as devastating. Her hand trembled as, one by one, she checked off the names of the injured on her roster, and put a cross by those who hadn’t survived; too many, in both cases. She wasn’t done, though. The bodies of the soldiers who had died on the battlefield were kept near the walls, waiting to be identified. She needed to go see them.

  Her mind buzzing with names, she stood and walked out of the room. She winced with each step, the wound on her leg throbbing with pain now that the anesthetic wasn’t working anymore. She stopped a nurse and, within minutes, was walking out with the support of a cane, and almost bumping into Mary. They reacted the same way, looking each other up and down and searching for wounds. Aria felt a little better when she saw that Mary had taken the time to clean up as well. She could smell blood on her, which meant that a wound was hiding beneath her fresh uniform.

  “Aria.” Mary smiled. “I’m so glad to see you. Are you all right?” She gave a pointed look at the cane.

  “Nothing too bad. You?”

  Mary’s hand rose to touch her arm. “Nothing I can’t heal. Did you hear about Jonas?”

  Something tightened inside Aria. She shook her head.

  “He died during the last wave,” Mary said quietly. “And Paolo…” She took in a deep breath. “They don’t know if he’ll make it.”

  Without thinking, Aria looked back toward the hospital lobby. She hadn’t thought about what would happen if Heads of Squadron had been wounded, or worse. Her focus had been on the soldiers so far, but there was more to the situation, of course.

  “Are we meeting?” she asked, turning her attention back to Mary. “There’s so much we need to reorganize.”

  “You’re right.” Mary glanced down at her watch. “How about… seven hundred in the conference room?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’ll contact the others and tell them. And Wilhelm.”

  There was just the edge of a question in that last word. Aria nodded.

  “I’ll see you there.”

  Part of her knew Will would be upset she hadn’t taken his advice and rested, but he would have to understand. She couldn’t worry about this now.

  She flagged down a passing truck that was returning to the walls. The four soldiers inside it looked at her bleary-eyed, but they saluted her and asked if she needed help. She assured them all she needed was a ride. Going through the lists of identified dead soldiers and looking at the bodies of those who hadn’t been identified yet was her duty, and as painful, as devastating as it may be, she wanted to do it alone.

  Ice settled inside her long before she was done, and by the time she had finished annotating the roster of her squadron, she felt numb. She would send a call to all the soldiers who served under her and have them gather by the next sunset, but she knew already that too few of them would come. It would be the same for all squadrons. All they could hope for was at least a few nights of respite before the next demons attack rolled on Newhaven.

  As she was walking out of the temporary morgue, she caught a glimpse of Will, just a hundred of yards down, talking animatedly to two soldiers. Without thinking twice, she hurried out of sight, and almost stumbled on a pile of weapons. Swords, axes, lances, even a few pieces of armor lay together, probably gathered from the battlefield. Some were broken, others seemed in need of being sharpened, all were covered in blood. The best weapons would be cleaned, sharpened and reused. The rest would be melted as scrap.

  Something caught her eyes and she leaned down, balancing her body against her cane. She picked up a sword, and knew at once it had belonged to a demon, probably even one of their leaders. No one in the Guard owned anything that fine. The blade was almost four feet long, and the guard and pommel were crafted beautifully. Demon weapons were always of good quality, but most of them were plain and functional. This was something else. A sword smith had to have spent a lot of time engraving the metal with decorative scrolls and symmetrical snakes on each side of the guard.

  There were rumors that, sometimes, demons kidnapped humans and took them back wherever they came from. Aria could believe it as she detailed the craftsmanship on that sword. She couldn’t imagine a demon hand, thick and clumsy, working so intricately, and the designs seemed like something a human might have crafted. It was only fitting that they had reclaimed this sword from the demons if human prisoners had forged it. It would only be even more fitting to find an owner worthy of it.

  Still clutching the sword, she found a ride back to the camp and headed to the armory. She had a couple of hours in front of her still before the meeting. She intended to leave the sword and a note there, but she was surprised to find Andrew Benton, the master blacksmith, sitting at his station. He hurriedly dried his eyes as she entered and said his name.

  “Ma’am. How can I help?”

  She came closer, and he gestured to the sword in her hand.

  “Do you need me to—”

  His voice broke down. Something ached in Aria’s chest when the tall, gray-haired man she had known since becoming a Cadet started crying again. She placed the sword on his worktable and reached out for his hand. He clung to her fingers.

  “I’m sorry about Andy,” she said when he had calmed down. “He was a good man, and a good fighter.”

  He nodded, pride shining through his teary eyes and sad smile.

  “He always spoke highly of you. Said you were the best leader he had ever followed to battle.”

  For the first time that night, tears welled up in her eyes. She knew what it felt like to be led to battle by someone who had earned her trust the hard way; someone she knew would get into harm’s way if it meant protecting her. She just wasn’t sure she had earned that trust from Andy, or any of the members of her squadron. Too wrapped up in her feelings for Will, she had focused her attention on him during the battle. She had guarded his back, and rarely paid much mind to the soldiers she had been supposed to lead. She understood, now, what Will had meant when he had said they couldn’t afford to become involved with each other.

  There had to be a way, though, a balance between her love for him and her duty to the soldiers who expected her to lead them to safety. She looked down at the sword she held. She had cleaned the blood off, and it shone bright under the harsh artificial light of the shop. Deadly and beautiful, she couldn’t imagine anyone but Will wielding it.

  * * * *

  So much time has passed since then, we’ve fought so many battles, that sometimes I feel as though I shouldn’t remember tho
se three days and three nights. I do, though. They’re engraved in my memory, etched there by the fear and hope I felt during that battle. Hope about what would happen afterwards now that Aria and I had made that first step and said those words. Fear that one of us would die and leave the other with a world of regrets.

  Even after all this time, all these battles, they are the same two feelings that tighten my chest every time the alarms sound over the walls—every time I know blood will be shed, and some of it might be hers. She’s been hurt, over the decades we spent together, sometimes very badly, and it’s difficult, then, not to use my influence to demand faster care for her wounds. Most of the time, thankfully, they’re superficial enough that I can deal with them myself. I hate seeing her hurt, but those moments of quiet comfort and careful gestures are… special. We’re fighters. Not only that, we’re vampires as well. We can take care of ourselves. To take care of each other, like I do for her, like she has learned to do for me, only brings us closer together. After the stress of battle, we need that. We need each other.

  So much time has passed… I need her, today, as much as I did back then.

  I love her more.

  And I can only be thankful that, on the morning after the fight, when the meeting was over and I was done ranting at her, she stood up to me and gave me the ultimatum that changed both our lives.

  Chapter 18

  Aria had sat at the conference table, surrounded by the other Heads of Squadron, more often than she cared to remember. Here, the future of Newhaven was crafted, one decision at a time. Here, too often, they mourned fallen comrades and, too rarely, celebrated the victories of the Guard. This room had seen more arguments and compromises than any other place in town. Rarely, though, had she felt that her own future was at stake along with the town’s. Pulling her eyes away from Will, who had barely given her a second glance since he had entered the room, she tried to focus on the discussion at hand. She rubbed absently at her nose, trying to chase away the sour scent of anger. She wondered if the others could guess just how angry Will was. She doubted it; he had always been good at hiding his emotions.

  “But his squadron doesn’t have anyone of his caliber to take over,” Stephen was arguing. “It’s going to be difficult enough without putting soldiers who aren’t ready to lead in charge of their comrades.”

  “Then we need to look at other squadrons for a leader,” Mary objected. “Reassigning Jonas’ soldiers to our squadrons would break their morale. They’re a tight group.”

  Aria nodded. “Not only that, but we have to plan ahead. I hate to say it, but if Paolo doesn’t make it, we’ll have a second headless squadron. We can’t break apart two squadrons. We would have to reorganize the entire rotation system, and that would just mean more chaos.”

  Her words were followed by a few seconds of grim silence, until Lea finally asked, “Any news on Paolo’s condition?”

  It was Will who answered, his voice as expressionless as his features. “As of an hour ago, he was still stable.” He paused for a second, then added, “If his condition deteriorates, I will turn him.”

  Four pairs of eyes focused on him, all of them wide in shock.

  “You… you will… what?” Aria stammered.

  He answered without looking at her directly. “It’s his choice. He came to me when I took over the Guard. He asked that I turn him if it ever looked as though he was going to die from battle wounds. I doubt he thought it’d be so soon, though.”

  “Does his wife know?” Mary asked.

  “She does.”

  Aria sat back in her chair, thinking of what it meant. On one hand, Paolo’s squadron would have a leader, regardless of what happened to him. On the other hand, she couldn’t help but be troubled by the idea of Will siring him. She was afraid to scratch the surface of her feelings and realize it was jealousy speaking, and so when Stephen raised an objection, she clung to it as though it were what had troubled her.

  “Wouldn’t it set a dangerous precedent?” he said, his tone very cautious.

  “Yes,” Aria agreed at once. “Blood is scarce enough as it is. If all soldiers ask to be turned like this, the balance we have now would be broken. It could mean the end of Newhaven.”

  Will shook his head. “It has happened before. You’re here today because of just such a situation. And you weren’t the first.”

  Even now, he didn’t look toward Aria. She ground her teeth rather than demand that he stop ignoring her.

  “As to all soldiers asking for this… I doubt it would happen.” He nodded toward Stephen. “Would you want to be turned?”

  Stephen let out a bark of joyless laughter. “No offense, but I’ll pass.”

  For the first time since the beginning of the meeting, Will’s lips stretched into a thin smile. “I don’t think we have to worry about that for now. As for Paolo, all we can do is wait and see. Jonas’ squadron is different. We need a decision, and we need it before night falls. Who thinks we should disband it?”

  Both Stephen and Lea raised their hands.

  “Two against three,” Will noted. “No disbandment, then. Which means we need a new leader.” He consulted a list in front of him, his finger sliding down a column of names. “The two highest ranked Guards under his command were killed as well. Objections to promoting a leader from another squadron?”

  Nobody said anything.

  “Suggestions on suitable candidates?”

  “I have a very capable Lieutenant under me,” Mary said. “Cliff Hille. I was going to name him to be promoted Captain after this battle.”

  “I know him,” Lea said with an approving nod. “He’d do well.”

  “That’s one candidate,” Will said, jotting down the name on his notes. “Anyone else?”

  “Ellen Manning,” Aria offered. “She’s my First Captain. Exemplary in battle as well as away from the walls.”

  “She’s a vampire, isn’t she?” Stephen asked with a slight frown.

  “She is. Does it matter?”

  The pointed look she gave him seemed to quiet his objections, but to Aria’s surprise, Will picked up on Ellen’s vampire status.

  “It does matter. If Paolo ends up turned, that will be three vampires in the highest ranks of the Guard. If we name another vamp as Head of Squadron, that will be four out of seven. The last thing we need is for humans to start resenting vampires for taking over.”

  She stared at him, incredulous. His eyes were finally on her, and they were cold, as though there had been nothing between them. What shocked her the most, though, was how he could speak of vampires so casually while he was one himself.

  “How can you say that?” she asked, unable to understand his point. “You’re a vamp—”

  “Thank you for reminding us all of the obvious, Captain Vanyard,” he interrupted her coldly. “But let me assure you I know exactly what I am. Right now, I am in charge of keeping this army together. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I do not believe that most humans are ready to accept any more control being given to vampires. Objections to Cliff Hille being promoted to the rank of Captain and Head of Squadron?”

  Aria was too stunned to even think about whether to vote for Hille or not, too off balance to consider Will’s argument when his words faded behind his tone. He had never talked to her like this before, and it stung to realize how deep his anger had to be. It only reinforced her decision that things had to change between Will and her before they could go forward.

  A few more matters were discussed and settled, but she was hard pressed to listen to any of it, let alone make any useful contribution to the discussion. When the meeting finally ended, she didn’t move from her seat as Mary, Stephen and Lea all stood. Across from her, Will remained seated as well, and soon they were left alone, Lea having closed the door behind her on her way out. Will’s eyes were glowing, and with the unmistakable sourness of his scent, Aria knew it was from anger.

  “Go ahead,” she said, settling back in her chair. “Let it out.”
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  “Let it out?” he repeated, ending with a snort. “Let what out, Aria? My disappointment that you can’t follow simple directions, or my fear that you ruined your leg walking around like you did all night?”

  “What about the anger?” she replied, keeping her voice as level as she could.

  “I’m not—” he started, almost shouting, but cut himself short. He took in a deep breath and the volume of his voice returned to normal when he started again. “I went back to the walls thinking you’d stay safe and start healing. You didn’t say you wouldn’t. Not an hour later, I see you there. How am I supposed to feel?”

  “Proud,” she replied, without missing a beat. “Proud that a flesh wound doesn’t keep me from my duties. Proud that I’m learning to see the difference between the man I love being overprotective and my Commander giving me an order.”

  He stood so abruptly that his chair fell back with the muted sound of leather hitting the carpeted floor. “They’re not two separate men, Aria. I am who I am. As a matter of fact, you put me in this place.”

  “I did,” she said as calmly as she could. “And I, for one, am proud of the way you lead the Guard, even when I don’t agree with you. But you were right. You being the Commander makes things more complicated.”

  His shock was all too plain on his face, and she hurried on before he could misinterpret her words.

  “I love you. I want to be with you. There’s nothing I want more than that.” She frowned suddenly, and shook her head. This wasn’t how she had planned to say it all, and she was saying it wrong. “Wait. That’s not true. There’s one thing I’ve always wanted more than anything else.”

  “Fighting,” Will said, sounding halfway between resigned and amused.

  She smiled, just barely. “Yes. Fighting. And fighting well. I can’t do it halfway. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did. And that means I can’t go around worrying about whether you’ll approve of my choices or not. If my job requires me to go back to the walls and you tell me to stay in bed because you know I’m tired, you’ve got to see it won’t even occur to me to listen to you. Because it’s not my Commander speaking when you tell me to rest. It’s your love for me. If you wouldn’t say the same thing to Lea, or Stephen, or Mary, it means you’re not taking my job and me seriously. And if you can’t do that…” She swallowed hard, and pressed the palms of her hands against the wood of the table so they wouldn’t shake. “If you can’t do that, on the battlefield and away from it, then I guess you were right. We can’t be together.”