“That’s not funny!” Two boys came into sight, no older than ten years old; they plummeted to the long grass, lit up by the memory of daylight over them like a spotlight, and I watched on, remaining in the dark.

“You can’t win against me, brother,” one boy said, tucking something into his chest as he ran a few meters away.

The other boy, the smaller one, stood up, with grass in his hair and fists clenched, then charged after his brother again. The taller one spun, grabbing the shirt of his attacker.

“Hey! Stop that!” I stomped over, but as I reached out to push them apart at the chest, fell forward, landing on the ground.

“She’s my friend. You stay away from her.”

I rolled over and sat up, looking at my hands; they just went straight through those boys.

“She likes me, David!”

David? My mouth dropped as my eyes focused on the boy standing in front of me—towering over the other child who’d also come victim to a fall.

“She doesn’t like you.” David pointed down at the other boy; I looked across at him; their faces were exactly the same. “She told me she’s just using you to get cookies from the kitchen, because Chef likes you.”

“No. She kissed me. She…she gave me her heart.” Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper, then held it up.

David snatched it; his eyes narrowed as he looked at the heart-shaped cut-out. “Dearest Jason,” he read. “You are a stinky poo, and I hate you.”

“It doesn’t say that.” Jason launched to his feet and shoved David, who barely shuffled back.

“I am writing you this note,” David continued, laughing, “to tell you I like your brother more than you.”

As Jason reached for it again, David held it above his head and bounced around the field. “Give it back, David.” Jason jumped up, stretching himself tall to grab the note, but David was too quick. “Give it to me.”

“No. Not unless you promise to stay away from her.”

“Why?”

“Because she doesn’t like you—she told me you’re the demon child, asked me to keep you away.”

“That’s not true,” Jason said, looking down at his feet, his fists falling loose.

“Promise to stay away from her, and you can have your forged note back.”

“It’s not forged.”

“Promise.” David held the edges between his fingers and made a small rip.

“No!” Jason edged forward—his hand extended. “Please. Don’t.”

“Promise to stay away from her, then.”

“Okay,” Jason said in earnest, stepping closer.

“Promise.” David made another very small tear.

“Okay. I—I promise.”

“Good.” Just as Jason’s fingers touched the note, David drew it away and ripped it in half.

“No!”

“Stay away from her.” David made confetti of the heart, then sprinkled the remains in front of his brother’s feet. “She’s mine!”

Jason, with shaking fingers, dropped to his knees and picked each tiny square up, holding them in his open palm. We both looked up at David as he strolled away.

“Oh, Jason.” I closed my eyes…

…They opened again to Mike’s room, but the burn of pity in my soul stayed hot in my blood.

“Hey.”

I jumped to my knees and smiled down at David. “Hey? You talked!”

“Had to...” his voice came out crackly, “…say something.”

“You don’t sound like you. Are you okay, do you feel okay, can I get you anything?”

With his chin now separated from the infusion of skin that held it down a few days ago, he shook his head. “Tell me…” he breathed through obvious pain, “…something.”

“Anything.”

“How do you…” he coughed, rolling his face away for a second, “…feel—about Jason?”

“Jason?”

David waited. I had no idea what he meant, and couldn’t really expect him to elaborate considering how much agony those few words put him through. “Did you…did you see my dream just now?”

His eyes narrowed, confusion within.

“Then, I don’t really know what you mean. Um.” I looked down at my hands, splayed out on the sheets just beside his arm. “Do you mean how do I feel about him hurting me, or about how Arthur said Jason was actually doing it to save me?”

David nodded.

“Both?”

He nodded again.

“To be honest, David, I haven’t had time to think about it. I mean, you should know—you’re always listening to my head.”

He shook his.

“What?”

“Can’t hear.”

“What, at all now?”

He shook his head again.

Can you now?

David didn’t move.

“Is that…because I’m becoming stronger—my vampirism?”

His eyes warmed.

“But I—I want you to hear my thoughts,” my voice quavered. “I’ll miss it if you can’t.”

He reached across and I softly wrapped my fingers around his—the fingers that had been left untouched by flames. The healing had spread out around that hand, more resembling a human than any other part of his body.

“Can you still hear Emily?” I asked.

His head moved once in a nod.

So, it’s me, not him.

“Ara,” he whispered, “answer…question.”

Oh. Um. “I don’t know how to feel about Jason, because…” My lip trembled.

“Because?”

“Because a part of me does feel sorry for him. A part of me is sad that he’s dead—that that was his fate. But the common sense part of me is disgusted I can feel that way.”

David’s eyes glistened, liquid with restrained tears.

“Are you sad? That’s he’s dead?” I asked.

He swallowed.

“It’s horrible—what happened to him—the way he died.” I stared ahead.

David nodded, scrunching a fist above his heart; his tight skin pulled over the new flesh.

“It hurts?” I asked. “In your heart?”