21. Apart

Freen woke up in a shabby hotel room with beige walls, brown curtains, and a dark carpet that hid stains. The only bright feature was a dusty oil painting above a small table with a tea kettle and a few bags of complimentary tea. It was unmistakably a hotel, yet she had no memory of checking in.

She replayed the events of the previous night in her mind—the last-minute flight with Richie and Irin, seated separately. A stranger had offered her a Xanax, which helped her relax during the flight. She vaguely remembered waking up as the plane landed, getting into a taxi, and dozing off on Irin's shoulder. Clearly, one of them had carried her into the room while she slept.

Groggy from the extended sleep, Freen lay under the duvet, the weight of her decisions pressing down on her. Leaving her mom without an explanation. Allowing Becky's family to fight for her. Failing to stop Becky from taking control before things spiraled further. Regret festered like an unwelcome guest.

She rubbed her eyes and kicked off the covers, making her way to the window. The bustling streets of California greeted her, alive with honking cars and pedestrians rushing to their destinations. The golden light of the morning sun kissed the skyline, and the hum of the city offered a peculiar comfort.

Her duffle bag sat on the floor at the foot of the bed. Still wearing Song's too-tight clothes, Freen knelt down to rummage through her belongings, seeking something more comfortable. A knock startled her.

"May I come in?" Irin's voice called from the other side.

"Yeah," Freen replied, her voice thick with exhaustion.

Irin stepped inside, choosing to linger by the door. Her sharp eyes swept over Freen's disheveled appearance. "You look like shit."

"Thanks for your honesty," Freen muttered, not bothering to mask her irritation.

Irin's gaze darted around the room as though she were scanning for invisible threats. "Hungry?"

"I'm fine. You?" Freen asked, her focus returning to her bag.

"Worry about yourself," Irin snapped, though her tone lacked malice. It was clear she'd rather be anywhere else. "I ordered you food. Steak and potatoes. Hope that works."

"I don't think there's a human alive who doesn't like that," Freen mused. "Just give me a minute."

Irin nodded and closed the door behind her.

Freen changed into a pair of sweats and a hoodie. The loose fabric felt like a breath of fresh air. She picked up her phone for the first time in days. Seven missed calls from her mom lit up the screen. Her stomach churned.

She typed a quick text: I made it to my destination safe. I'm sorry for all this. I'll call you when I can explain.

She hit send and moved to her group chat with Nam and her friends. It was flooded with photos from the school dance and snippets of gossip. None of it felt relevant now.

Tossing the phone onto the bed, Freen headed to the main room. Richie and Irin were seated on the couch, a newscaster's monotone voice droning on the TV.

"How are you feeling, Freen?" Richie asked, turning toward her.

Freen shrugged. He seemed to take the hint. The plate of steak and potatoes sat on the coffee table, waiting. Freen sank to the floor and stared at it, her appetite nonexistent. Irin's watchful eyes bore into her.

"Becky reminded me you have to feed more often than we do. You should eat," Irin said finally.

"Did she call?" Freen's voice betrayed her eagerness. Irin shook her head. Disappointed, Freen poked at the food with her fork. "What do we do now?"

"Stay inside and wait for one of them to reach out," Richie said, his tone calm but resolute.

He leaned closer. "You don't need to worry. You're safe here with us."

"I'm not worried about myself," Freen admitted. "I'm worried about your family out there, fighting for me. How can I live with myself if one of you gets hurt?"

"Freen, shut the fuck up and get your head out of your own ass," Irin said bluntly, cutting through her spiral. "We're made of stronger stuff than you are. Literally."

Irin's icy hand cupped Freen's cheek, forcing her to meet her gaze.

"Becky spent a century lost. Angry, resentful of her immortality. She lived every day hyperaware yet indifferent to it all. Then you showed up," Irin said, a rare softness in her voice. "You rewrote her existence. I've seen visions of Becky for centuries. She's never been happy until you. If she lost you..." Irin's expression darkened. "She'd destroy herself with guilt. Or the world, in your name."

The weight of Irin's words settled on Freen. It soothed her guilt, though not her worry.

The afternoon dragged. Freen excused herself to the bedroom, trying to find solace in the mundane view of clouds and bustling pedestrians below. Sleep eluded her, each anxious thought pressing harder against her temples.

Irin entered the room silently, her presence shifting the mattress. Freen didn't mind the company.

"Any word?" Freen asked, sitting up.

"Not yet. That's probably a good sign. The hunt is going well," Irin said.

"So you think everyone is safe?"

"Our family isn't easy to take down," Irin replied with a reassuring smile. "They'll protect you and your family."

"Irin, I need to ask you something," Freen said hesitantly.

"Anything."

"How do you become a vampire?"

Irin groaned, rolling off the bed. "Becky made me swear not to tell you."

"That just makes me want to know more," Freen teased.

"Richie!" Irin called.

Richie appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. "Becky's gonna be pissed."

Freen smirked. "You act like that's a deterrent."

Richie settled into a chair, his expression serious. "As predators, we have an overwhelming array of weapons in our physical arsenal—far more than we actually need. Strength, speed, and acute senses, and for those like Becky, Irin, and me, we have special abilities as well. Becky could read the mind, Irin could see the immediate future, and I could feel what the other person feels. And, like a carnivorous flower, we are physically alluring to our prey."

Freen recalled Becky demonstrating her allure in the meadow, a shiver running through her.

"We're also venomous," Richie added. "Our venom paralyzes prey. But if it spreads too long, it transforms. It's painful. Agonizing."

Freen's hand instinctively covered her wrist, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin.

"You're scaring her, Richie," Irin interjects.

"She wanted to know the truth. She deserves the truth." Richie counters.

"Have you ever turned anyone?" Freen asked.

"No," Richie replied quickly. "I've read a lot of Robert's writings on the subject, but creating more of us is difficult. When we smell blood, our bodies go into a frenzy, like sharks. The restraint it takes to stop is something most of us can't manage."

"It's a harrowing experience for both sides," Irin added. "The restraint required from the one turning, and the pain for the one receiving... I could never do it."

"Certainly a test of discipline," Richie concludes.

They sat in silence on that thought. Freen looked down at the veins of her wrists, the lifeblood pumping through her veins and pondered the feeling of venom running through them instead.

The seconds ticked by, and she was so enveloped in her thoughts.

Then, without any warning, Irin leapt from the bed, landing silently on her feet. Freen's head jerked up, startled as she stared at Irin.

"Something's changed." Her voice was urgent, and she wasn't talking to Freen anymore.

Richie put his large hands on Irin's shoulders and guided her back to the bed, sitting her on the edge.

"What do you see?" he asked intently, staring into her eyes. Irin's eyes were focused on something very far away. Freen sat close, leaning in as she caught Irin's low, quick voice.

"I see a room. Large room, tile floor...he's there and... he's waiting. There's water - a pool - and a walkway."

"A pool? Where is it?" Richie pressed.

"I don't know, it's unclear - there hasn't been a decision made yet,"

"When is it?"

"Today, tomorrow. Soon. It's dark, I don't think he's alone."

"What is he doing?"

"Talking, he's talking to someone, I don't know who - it's too dark."

"The pool room, can you see anything else there?" Richie pressed.

"A trophy shelf, some old photos, blue walls. "

"Anything else?"

Irin shook her head no. The two looked at each other still as statues.

"What does that mean?" Freen asked.

A thick silence wafted into the room. Richie sits back and sighs, "It means the tracker's plans have changed. He's made a decision that will lead him to that dark room with the pool."

"But we don't know where this room is?"

"No."

"Cool, he's going to a pool. Maybe he changed his mind and decided to swim some laps," Freen huffed, "do we call?"

The phone rang, slicing through the heavy silence. Irin was across the room in a heartbeat, snatching the device and holding it to her ear.

"Robert?"

Freen froze, her breath catching as Irin nodded and listened.

"I just saw him," Irin said quickly, describing her vision. She paused as the voice on the other end replied, her sharp gaze flickering toward Freen.

"Yes," Irin said before extending the phone toward Freen. "Becky wants to talk to you."

Freen hesitated, staring at the phone like it might bite her. When she finally took it, her hands trembled slightly.

"Hello?" she breathed.

"Freen," Becky's familiar voice was a balm, soft and steady despite the chaos of their situation.

"Becky," Freen exhaled, her relief palpable. "I've been so worried about you."

Becky let out a quiet sigh, tinged with both affection and exhaustion. "Freen, I told you not to worry about anything but yourself." Her voice was gentle, yet firm—an attempt to reassure her, to shoulder the burden alone as she always did.

"That's easier said than done," Freen admitted, clutching the phone tighter. "Where are you?"

"We're just outside Camden," Becky replied. "I'm sorry—we lost him. He's been keeping his distance, careful enough that I can't hear his thoughts. But he's gone now. He boarded a plane, and we're trying to figure out where he went."

"I know," Freen said softly. "Irin saw it."

There was a pause on Becky's end, then a low hum of acknowledgment. "Good. Then you know not to worry. He won't find anything that leads him to you."

"How can you be sure?" Freen pressed, her voice tinged with desperation. "And what about my mum? Is she safe?"

"She's safe, Freen. Rawe and Song are watching her constantly. Devikah went to the house once, but only when your mum was at work. She hasn't approached her, and she won't. Rawe won't let her out of her sight."

Freen felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders, though her heart remained heavy. "And you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Becky assured her. "We're all fine. I'm meeting with Gemini alone soon—he might have answers we don't. Depending on what he says, we'll plan the next steps."

Freen bit her lip, hating the distance between them. "I miss you," she whispered.

The silence on the other end was brief but charged. When Becky spoke again, her voice was soft, almost fragile. "I know, Freen. Believe me, I know. It feels like... like you've taken half of me with you."

"Then come and get it," Freen challenged lightly, though her heart ached with sincerity.

Becky's low laugh was warm and filled with longing. "Soon," she promised, the word carrying the weight of everything she felt. "But not until I've made you and your family safe. That's my priority. Once I'm sure, I'll come for you."

"I'll be waiting," Freen whispered, her voice barely audible over the lump forming in her throat. "Becky..." She hesitated, gathering her courage. "I love you."

The line was silent for a moment, and Freen feared her confession had been met with indifference. Then Becky's voice came, soft and reverent, like a prayer.

"Could you believe that, despite everything I've put you through, I love you too?"

Freen's heart swelled, tears welling in her eyes as she laughed shakily. "Yes, I can. Actually, I do."

"Good," Becky said, her tone shifting to something firmer, resolute. "Because nothing will keep me from you. I'll come for you soon, Freen. That's a promise."

"I'll hold you to it," Freen whispered, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.

The call ended, leaving Freen staring at the phone in her hand, tears slipping down her cheeks. The ache of longing lingered, but the certainty in Becky's voice gave her a flicker of hope to hold on to.

As soon as the call ended, the cloud of despair settled back over Freen, heavy on her shoulders.

She turned to hand the phone back to Irin, finding her and Richie bent over the table, Irin sketching on a piece of hotel stationery. Freen leaned against the back of the couch, peering over her shoulder.

The room she drew had high ceilings and a walkway along the upper perimeter, overlooking a swimming pool. Irin's detailed drawing captured the two-toned tile walls and mosaic flooring, even rendering the fluorescent emergency light casting its glow over the pool. It was so vivid, Freen could almost smell the chlorine through the page.

"Kind of looks like the pool I used to go to," Freen says, remembering the panelled walls and triangular flags that hung from the bannister.

Two sets of eyes suddenly landed on Freen in surprise.

"You've been here?" Richie asked, calm but quick.

"Well, I don't know, it's just that I remember these floor tiles, and the wall panels look familiar, but most pools probably look the same, right?"

"Which pool did you go to?" Irin asked.

"The one down second and forty-seventh, but I haven't been in years. Not since I joined the swim team and started using the school pools," Freen stared at the drawing as they sat in silence. The resemblance was uncanny, but it could still be a coincidence, "Irin, can I ask you something else?"

"Sure," she sighed and put her notepad down.

"How do you actually go about killing a vampire?"

She glanced between Richie and then Freen, Richie gave little more than a nonchalant shrug, "Fire. But of course, you must rip them apart before you can burn the pieces so they can't escape."

She nodded and lay back in bed, "I hope they remembered to bring matches," Freen heard soft laughter as her eyes fell shut.

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