Part 11 (1/2)

I shook my head. ”Nope, but that shouldn't shock you. I've only been Marked for a few months. I'm not exactly up on vampyre politics.”

”Will wasn't into politics. He was into archery. For almost two hundred years, he was the undisputed archery champion of all the vampyres.”

”Which means of all the world, because vamps are the best archers there are,” I said.

”Yeah.” he nodded. ”Anyway, Will kicked everyone's a.s.s for almost two centuries. At least up until six months ago he did.”

I thought for a second. ”Six months ago would make it summer. That's when they have the vamp version of the Olympics, right?”

”Yeah, they call them the Summer Games.”

”Okay, so this Will guy is majorly good with a bow. Seems you are, too. Do you know him pretty well?”

”Knew. He's dead. But yeah. I knew him pretty well.” Stark paused and then added. ”He was my mentor and my best friend.”

”Oh, I'm sorry,” I said awkwardly.

”So am I. I'm the one who killed him.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

”Did you just say you killed him?” I was sure I'd heard him wrong.

”Yeah, that's what I said. I did it because of my gift.” Stark's voice sounded cool, like what he'd said was no big deal, but his eyes said something else. The pain in them was so obvious that I had to look away. As if that pain was just as obvious to d.u.c.h.ess, the Lab trotted from me to her master and sat at his side, leaning heavily against him, staring up at him adoringly, and whining softly. Automatically, Stark reached down and stroked her soft head as he talked. ”It happened during the Summer Games. It was right before the finals. Will and I were way in the lead, so it was for sure that the gold and silver medals were going to go to us.” He didn't look as me while he talked. Instead he stared down at his bow, and his hand kept stroking d.u.c.h.ess's head.

Weirdly enough, Nala crept quietly up to him and began rubbing herself against his leg (the one d.u.c.h.ess wasn't leaning on) while she purred like a lawn mower. Stark just kept talking. ”We were warming up in the practice lanes. They were these long, thin areas sectioned off by white linen dividers. Will was standing to my right. I remember drawing my bow and being more focused than I'd ever been in my life. I really wanted to win.” He paused again, and shook his head. His mouth twisted in self-mockery. ”That was what mattered most to me. The gold medal. So I drew the bow and thought, No matter what, I want to hit the mark and beat Will. I shot the arrow, seeing the bull's-eye with my eyes, but really imagining beating Will in my mind.” Stark dropped his head, and he sighed deep as a storm wind. ”The arrow flew straight to the target in my mind. It hit Will in his heart and killed him instantly.”

I felt my head shake back and forth. ”But how could that happen? Was he by the target?”

”He was nowhere near it. He was standing not more than ten paces from me to my right. We were separated only by the white linen tarp. I was facing forward when I aimed and shot, but that didn't matter. The arrow went through his chest.” He grimaced with the pain the memory still caused him. ”It was so fast, everything went blurry. Then I saw his blood spatter the white linen that separated us, and he was dead.”

”But Stark, maybe it wasn't you. Maybe it was some kind of weird magical fluke.”

”That's what I thought at first, or at least that's what I hoped. So I tested my gift.”

My stomach clenched. ”Did you kill someone else?”

”No! I tested it on things that weren't alive. Like there was a freight train that used to go by the school every day about the same time. You know, one of those old-time-looking ones, with the big black engine and the red caboose. They still come through Chicago a lot. I printed off a picture of the caboose and put it on a target on the school grounds. I thought about hitting the caboose and shot.”

”And?” I prompted when he didn't say anything.

”The arrow disappeared. Only temporarily, though. I found it again the next day when I waited by the track. It was sticking in the side of the real caboose.”

”Holy c.r.a.p!” I said.

”Now you see.” He walked over to me so that we were standing very close. His eyes captured mine with that unique intensity of his. ”That's why I had to tell you about me, and that's why I needed to know if you were strong enough to protect the people you care about.”

My stomach, already clenching, flipped over. ”What are you going to do?”

”Nothing!” he shouted, causing d.u.c.h.ess to whine again and Nala to pause in her purr/rub and stare up at him. He cleared his throat and made an obvious effort to pull himself together. ”I don't mean to do anything. But I didn't mean to kill Will, and I did.”

”You didn't know about your powers then, and you do now.”

”I suspected,” he said softly.

”Oh,” was all I could think to say.

”Yeah,” he said, pressing his lips tightly together before he continued. ”Yeah, I knew there was something weird about my gift. I should have listened to my gut. I should have been more careful. But I didn't and I wasn't, and Will is dead. So I want you to know the real deal about me in case I mess up again.”

”Hang on! If I understand what you're saying, then only you can know what you're really aiming at 'cause it's happening inside your head.”

He snorted sarcastically. ”You'd think so, wouldn't you, but that's not how it works. One time I thought it was perfectly safe for me to do a little practice shooting. I went to the park that was next to our House of Night. No one was around to distract me; I made sure of that. I found a big old oak and set up a bull's-eye in front of what I decided was the center of the tree.”

He was looking at me like he expected a response, so I nodded. ”You mean like the middle of the trunk?”

”Exactly! That's what I thought I was aiming at-something that was the center of the tree. But do you know what the center of a tree is sometimes called?”

”No, I really don't know too much about trees,” I said lamely.

”Neither did I. I looked it up afterwards. The ancient vampyres, the ones with earth affinities, called the center of the tree its heart. They believed that sometimes animals, or even people, could represent the heart of a particular tree. So I shot, thinking about hitting the center or heart of the tree.” He didn't say any more; he just stared down at his bow.

”Who did you kill?” I asked softly. Without actually thinking about it, I lifted my hand and rested it on his shoulder. I'm not even sure now why I touched him. Maybe it was because he looked like he needed the touch of another person. And maybe it was because, despite his admission and the danger he represented, I was still drawn to him.

He covered my hand with his, and his shoulders drooped. ”An owl,” he said brokenly. ”The arrow just burst out of its chest. It was perched on one of the top inside branches of the oak. It screamed all the way to the ground.”

”The owl was the heart of the tree,” I whispered, fighting the insane urge I had to pull him into my arms to comfort him.

”Yeah, and I killed it.” He looked up and met my eyes then. I thought I'd never seen a gaze so haunted by regret, and as the two animals at his feet comforted him and, at least for Nala, acted way more intuitively than usual, the thought flitted through my mind that Stark might very well have more gifts than just hitting whatever he aimed at, but I used some sense and didn't say anything. Like he needed more gifts to worry about? Stark kept talking. ”See? I'm dangerous, even when I don't mean to be.”

”I think I do see,” I said carefully, still trying to calm him with my touch. ”Maybe you should put up your bow and arrow, at least until you really have a handle on this gift of yours.”

”That's what I should do. I know it is. But if I don't practice-if I stay away from shooting and try to forget about it-it's like a part of me is being ripped away. I can feel something inside me dying.” He dropped his hand from mine and stepped back so that we weren't touching any longer. ”You should know this part of it, too; I'm really just a coward because I can't stand that pain.”

”It doesn't make you a coward to want to avoid pain,” I said quickly, following the small voice that whispered in my mind.

”It makes you human.”

”Fledglings aren't human,” he said.

”Actually, I'm not too sure about that. I think the best part of everyone is human, whether they're fledglings or vampyres.” ”Are you always so optimistic?”

I laughed. ”Oh, h.e.l.l no!”

His smile was less sarcastic and more real this time. ”You don't make me think of Debbie Downer, but I haven't known you for very long.”