Episode 7: The Morning After
750 Words
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Morning After
Dawn came slowly to Hampstead.
Lila stood at the window of her flat, watching the sky lighten. The fire at Philbeach Gardens had burned through the night, but the smoke had faded now. The streets of Earl's Court would be filled with firemen and reporters, all asking questions that would never be answered.
She had not slept. But Elias had stayed.
He sat in the chair by the window, his coat draped over the back, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. There was soot on his collar and a cut on his hand that he had not noticed until she pointed it out.
She had cleaned it for him. His blood was warm on her fingers, and she had to close her eyes to remember that she was not hungry.
"Are you alright?" he asked now.
She turned. "I should be asking you that."
He smiled. Tired, but real. "I'm not the one who walked into a burning house."
"I set the fire."
"You set the fire." He leaned back, watching her. "That was not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. Something quieter. Not you throwing candelabras at the walls."
She almost laughed. "I told you. I'm not that girl anymore."
"No." His voice was soft. "You're not."
---
The morning light crept across the floor, touching his boots, his hands, his face. She watched it move and tried to imagine what it would be like to feel the sun on her skin again.
She could not remember. But she could remember this. The way Elias looked at her. The way his voice said her name. The way his hand had felt in hers as they ran.
"What happens now?" she asked.
He was quiet for a moment. "The Order will know about the fire. About the guests. About you."
"Is that dangerous?"
"Maybe." He met her eyes. "To them, a vampire who doesn't kill is still a vampire."
"And you?"
He looked at his hands. At the cut she had cleaned.
"I used to believe that all vampires were monsters. That they deserved to die." He looked up. "Then I met you."
---
She did not know what to say. She stood by the window, the dawn light at her back, and let his words settle over her.
"Elias," she said. "I don't know what this is. What we are."
He rose and crossed the room until he stood before her.
"I don't know either," he said. "I've spent twelve years hunting your kind. I told myself it was justice." He raised his hand to her face. "But when I look at you, I don't see a monster. I see someone I don't want to lose."
She closed her eyes. His hand was warm on her face.
"I don't want to lose you either," she whispered.
He kissed her. Gentle. Soft. His lips moved against hers like he was learning her.
---
When they pulled apart, the sun had risen.
She could not see it, but she could feel it. The weight of the day pressing against the glass.
"You should go," she said. "Before someone sees you here."
He did not move. His hand was still on her face.
"Tomorrow," he said. "The heath. After dark."
She nodded.
He kissed her forehead, soft and quick, and then he was gone.
---
She stood at the window and watched him walk down Church Row. He did not look back. But she watched until he disappeared around the corner, and then she stood there a little longer, her hand pressed to her chest, her heart beating a rhythm she had almost forgotten.
The flat was quiet. The fire was out. The guests were safe. Eleanor was somewhere in Spitalfields, learning to survive. And Cassius was out there, somewhere, waiting.
She should have been afraid. She was afraid. But beneath the fear was something else. Something that had been buried for a hundred years, waiting to break through.
Hope.
She touched her lips. They were still warm.
She did not sleep that day. But for the first time in a very long time, she did not wait. She thought instead. Of the fire. Of the guests. Of Elias, telling her he did not want to lose her.
She stood by her window and watched the day pass, and let herself imagine a future where she was not running anymore.
Where she was warm.
Where she was not alone.
END OF CHAPTER SEVEN
- Writer
