Page 99 of Roses & Ruin

But instead, he chose boring nights in the kitchen with me, chopping basil and garlic—because, I currently remember, that is a vampire myth, the whole garlic thing. He chose milking cows and scrubbing out the pails with me in Australia. Hayden could have been drinking the blood of kings, but instead, his boots squished right alongside mine in Ireland when we walked to the bog to cut peat. He never liked the smell, that loamy, rotting, damp scent probably so much worse to a vampire, but he rarely complained.

This is why I need to remember. Because this is love. Proof that it was not Delia or fate or anything more than just two souls choosing each other, over and over.

I hope to god I remember when I pass to the next place. I hope it’s not all darkness. I hate the dark.

A sharp agony shoots through me, and my soul screams.

Stay with me, says the memory of Hayden’s voice. I’m right here. You have to come back. Winston will never forgive me if you don’t.

The voice is bright. Dazzling. I want to stay near it.

Around me, the darkness makes an earthy, tectonic shift. There’s a sucking pull at my soul, a vacuum somewhere opposite to the voice.

Fight it, the voice says. I don’t know if the voice belongs to my soul or Hayden’s.

Doesn’t matter—I listen. Fight with every dying cell in my body. Claw my way back, like I have done over and over and over.

There’s a ripping sound, and I realize I’m that sound. It’s like Velcro, and now I get it, now I understand—my soul has been clinging to all these different parts of the universe. These different times and places. My bouncy human soul. But now it’s all coming together. I’m snapping back to myself, growing strong.

It’s agony. But that’s a good thing, I think. It means I’m going the right way.

I claw my way toward the light, toward the pinprick that’s getting smaller and smaller in the distance. I shove away the beckon of rest and promise of peaceful sleep, and fight like absolute hell.

When I’m close enough, I leap into the shrinking grain of light.

—

I take a ragged, shuddery gasp of air.

In that single breath, I can taste a distant snow, ozone, dust from the central heating, cedar and fir woodsmoke, the faint unpleasantness of dead fish and taurine.

I blink my eyes open, immediately squeeze them back shut with a hiss—it’s very, very bright.

A soft, fuzzy warmth bumps against my palm. The roaring thrum of a kitten’s purr.

“Winston?” When it doesn’t hurt, my hand goes to my chest. It’s whole. No wounds.

I hear a door slam. Sloppy, clumsy footsteps rush closer, and the door to the bedroom bursts open.

Gentle hands are suddenly all over me, my face, my neck, my chest.

“Rose,” Hayden chokes. I can hear the tears in his voice. I have no words for what I’m feeling, so all I can do is inch my hands to his face and pull his mouth to mine. I swallow his sobs, and he swallows mine as we kiss and kiss.

Winston’s meow breaks us apart. I’m still scared to open my eyes.

“Your footsteps are so loud,” I mutter. “And my eyes hurt when I open them.”

“You’ll get used to your senses faster than you think. Come on. Try. Open your eyes.”

When I finally lift my lids, look into Hayden’s deep indigo eyes, I’m slammed by the entire weight of my full soul. I cling to him, gasping, tears clouding my vision.

“Hayden,” I rasp. “Hayden, I remember. I remember everything.”

“I’m glad,” he says slowly, “but every vampire keeps the memory of their human life.”

“No,” I say. “No, I mean, I remember.” Hayden’s face crumples for a moment. He blinks very fast. Swallows hard. I think he knows what I mean but he’s too scared to believe it.

“What?” He clears his throat. “Which…?”