Chapter 73 - A Cautionary Tale

A heavy silence fell in the room when JJ finally finished talking. I sat immersed in the happenings of the past. It was hard to imagine the shrieking harpy I've met as a kind, normal, human woman—but this story let me.

JJ's chin was propped on his intertwined fingers. His shoulders leaned heavily towards the floor. His entire posture telegraphed how hard it was for him to tell this tale, and I remembered again about the emotional traces I felt in his coffin.

I could understand now why he was so tight-lipped about this before. I'm pretty sure that if he could, JJ would be glad to never talk about this all again. Not in this millennium, at least. I knew that forgetting won't ever be an option for me, but I could forgive him.

At least JJ himself knew, too, that he fucked up royally on all accounts possible.

JJ let out a long sigh and lifted his bright green eyes at me. The movement startled me, pulling me out of my musings. I was even more surprised to see him smiling after all that was said, though it was a small, sad smile.

"You are awfully silent. Had my foolishness struck you speechless, ma chèrie?" He appeared to want to add something else, but—a completely uncharacteristic move—closed his mouth.

I snorted and slowly shook my head. "This is…" I sighed. "I'm sorry, JJ."

He drew back in surprise. "Sorry? What for?"

"I meant, uh, 'my condolences'. But I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have shut you out like that when you were already almost well-done, and my biggest injury were holes from your fangs."

I absentmindedly rubbed my thumb over the place on my wrist where I punctured my skin. The tiny holes were long gone—I didn't even notice when they disappeared, but it was before I went to shower on that terrible evening.

JJ accepted my apology with a deep nod and smiled wider at my dark humour. "It's completely understandable, Diana."

The movement of his lips again attracted my attention to the part of his face that was burned earlier. Smooth skin, no trace of scars or differences between new and old skin. I had an urge to touch it, just to make sure that my eyes don't deceive me.

I reached over the table, silently asking JJ with my eyes. In response, he leaned closer, close enough that I could reach him without lying down on the tabletop. He watched my movements with rapt attention.

His eyes burned me with intensity, and for a moment I almost shied away, but something bigger pushed me forward. My fingers touched JJ's cool skin. It was silky smooth to the touch, with no pimples, scars or other imperfections.

"Do all vampires have such a great skin?" I asked, trailing my fingers in butterfly-light touches from JJ's cheek up to his eyes.

He closed them, giving me an opportunity to inspect his eyelid too. The memory of the charred, blackened skin slowly receded into the past as I replaced it with the feeling and sight of the healthiness JJ presented to me now.

"Yes, ma chèrie. All wounds heal during the process of turning, and acne, thankfully, is one of these. I was lucky, though, to not have any scars on my face." He chuckled.

I moved my fingers lower, to his lips (soft, so soft) and his chin. There was no hair here, not even a stubble, no matter how hard I looked. "What about a beard? If you were turned while shaved, wouldn't there has been something, at least?"

JJ opened his eyes to look at me. "My sire had been thorough in my preparations for the turning. She made me thread the hair out." At my visible confusion, he added, "It's a technique where a thread curled in a special way between fingers is used to pull out hairs from one's face."

I frowned. "Made you? What if you wanted to grow out a beard in a future?"

"What if, indeed," JJ said flatly. In the next moment, a smirk returned to his face and his eyes shone with a predatory glint I found both familiarly comforting and the complete opposite.

My heart beat faster when he raised his hand to press my palm tighter to his face. His movements were slow enough for me to pull away, but I couldn't bring myself to, not when JJ's snake eyes pinned me down like a rabbit.

"You, ma chèrie, were astounding in that fight. Even hiding and cowering as you were, you found a way to strike. I never saw a witch do what you did to Christina. What was it? If you could do it any time she appears, you would be much safer."

"I…" I swallowed. Our faces were too close. Instead of thinking about magic, I was thinking about kissing JJ.

Wasn't the happenings of the last day a warning enough? Wasn't Christina's tale the most cautionary one? Why I still had that longing clenching my heart now?

I imagined a possibility. Me and him, happily together, in love. Then I grow old and die and he has to watch it like he watched Christina's descent into madness, but with even more anguish, because he didn't love her as much. That's what would happen if—if—JJ fell for me.

The mental image was like a bucket of cold water spilling on my head. I hurriedly pulled back, clutching at the palm that touched JJ like it was a national treasure, and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Ma chèrie?" he asked with a slight frown.

"Sorry," I said. "What were you asking? Can I repeat that spell?"

"Yes. Can you?"

What a hard question. "I don't think I should," I said after a brief pause. "Even if I could, it was about as easy and safe as catching arrows to throw them back at your enemies. I only did it out of desperation! I was… I was, well, reasonably afraid that after you Christina will go for me."

JJ frowned, but whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by a sound of my phone ringtone.. I hurriedly pulled it out and saw that the caller was Rita. Rita! I promised her to meet today and was already late!