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Ben didn’t trust himself to speak when Clara looked up at him as he left Sister Margery’s office.
“How did it go?”
He held his hand out to her and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet, worry in her eyes.
They said nothing as Ben led them out of the church and down winding streets, all too aware of how his sluggish limbs seemed to almost creak as he walked. He tried not to think about how stiff they’d be in a year, how hard it would be to speak after that, how painful breathing would get after that.
They went to a derelict house at the edge of the district that Ben had visited a thousand times when he’d been in trouble with various priests or just wanted to be alone. Nobody lived out here anymore because the roads sunk too near the water and flooded every night. By now, all the mud that coated the cobblestones behind the house had dried, the canal water at a safe height.
Ben sat on the ground against a crumbling wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. Clara sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulders.
“What is it?”
Ben opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He leaned into her and broke down, sobbing into his arms as she held him. The words got caught in his throat every time he tried to speak, as if they knew that being spoken would make them real. He cried until he ran out of tears, his throat raw and aching as he glared up at the darkening sky, unable to meet Clara’s eyes.
“It’s undeath,” he finally croaked.
“Shit.”
“She said they can treat the symptoms, but…”
“Did she say how long you have before it gets…”
Ben shook his head. “Too early to tell. Could be years. Could be months.”
Finally glancing at her, Ben realised that Clara was crying too, silent tears streaming down her face. He looked again, feeling like shit for upsetting her.
“Normal medicine isn’t the only option,” she murmured.
Ben looked at her again.
“Loads of people become vampires. It’s not too late to get the tattoos. Maybe Bavashi will help.”
“Bavashi?”
“She’d do that, right? For you?”
Ben looked down at his hands. “Would you be okay with … me being a vampire?”
Clara gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m not okay with you being in pain. I’m not okay with losing you.”
Vampirism … Bavashi was more than skilled enough, but would she be willing to give him the tattoos? What if she thought Ben only wanted them so he could drain her power? He’d wondered if things were okay between them since he told her he planned on becoming a priest after all, what if asking for this was the final straw?
Clara offered Ben a handkerchief and he took it, wiping his eyes as she tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear.
“I’ll ask her,” he promised.
They sat in silence, watching the water of the canal. By now it was threatening to start spilling onto the path.
“I wanted to marry you when we were older,” Ben confessed tiredly, “We always talked about all the things we’d do when we got out of this shithole. It felt like we’d stay in each others’ lives forever. Suppose it might be pointless now. If Bavashi doesn’t give me the tattoos or it just doesn’t work, I’ll die.”
“Ben…”
Hearing the crack in her voice, Ben looked at her.
“I want to marry you too.” She pulled him close. “Fuck whatever happens. We’ll do it the moment you turn twenty.”
Ben hugged her back tightly, realising he still had a few tears left after all.