Smolder by Abigail Livinghouse (best young adult book series TXT) 📕

"Are you", I hesitated, looking for the right words. I wasn't positive there were any "right words" to really say anymore.

"Are you alright?" I finally settled on.

He glanced up at me for a fraction of a second before returning his eyes to his bag in front of him, packing some food for the road.

"I'm about as good as it's going to get." Dimitri said quietly.

I scowled, waiting for him to say more but instead he headed past me, with his bag slung over his shoulder. I quickly followed, wondering what he meant by that.

"Well I just, I just thought that maybe-" My fumbling for something adequate to say wasn't helping our situation at all. I knew that, and yet I couldn't stop myself. The words just kept coming, no matter how little sense they made.

"I didn't know if maybe you were upset because we don’t' have a plan and we had to leave so soon, or because of the fact that I almost got you killed. I’m sorry I put you in danger like that, I was just trying to get them away from you. I didn't mean for-"

I stumbled over a stray car bumper, halting my barrage of words. Dimitri reached out and gripped my elbow to steady me, but retracted his touch just as quickly.

 I looked around, it seemed we were standing amidst an ancient car wreck on a long dead interstate. I was so engrossed in babbling to Dimitri about nothing in particular, that I hadn't noticed that by now we were a few miles away from the restaurant.

A sign hanging from expired traffic lights showed in white letters with a green background that New York was straight ahead, proven with a pointed white arrow. There were other old traffic signs and billboards so weather beaten that you couldn't even read what they said anymore. I looked at Dimitri who paused as I gazed around in surprise.

"Have you been here before?" I asked.

He shrugged. "It's been years."

He didn't say anymore and I didn't ask. I realized as we walked that I knew nothing about Dimitri's past, except for that he came from the Haven. Who's to say that he lived there for his whole life? Odds are he probably hadn't. As I watched him walk over trash and debris littering the old roads, it occurred to me that he had seemed fearful of touching me when I had tripped over the car bumper.

My brow came together and I moved to catch up to his side, inquiring about what I had just thought of. "Are you afraid to touch me?"

Dimitri's eyes widened and I knew I had caught him off guard. Just as quickly as the surprise registered on his face a curtain fell, overtaking his features with blank disregard.

"That's absurd. I could care less." He said pointedly.

His words were harsh, but I didn't take much offense, because I could hear in his voice that he was holding something back.

"Is something wrong?" I questioned, trying to get a glimpse at his face as we walked, but he kept his body angled away from me. "If there's something bothering you, you can talk to me. You know I'll listen. I'll-"

"Siren", Dimitri paused in the middle of the road. I kept walking and faltered in surprise, moving back to where he was standing.

"Just stop." He murmured.

I shut my mouth, my eyes going wide. By the way Dimitri sounded I knew there was definitely something wrong. There was something tinging the edges of his voice that I had never heard from him before. Fear.

I waited for him to speak, and when he didn't I did. "I can help you. Whatever it is, I can help."

"You cannot help me now." Dimitri stared at the ground as he spoke in a monotone, completely devoid of all emotion.

A chill crept up my spine. His voice evoked the memory of when Trenton had been under Cal's influence, and he spoke about how bleak and hopeless the world was now. Except Dimitri was different. He would not look at me.

"Dimitri", I reached out to touch his shoulder and he jerked back violently, putting at least three feet of space between the two of us so that we could not come into physical contact.

"Don't. Please." He begged fervently for me to keep away.

I was completely alert and terrified now, as terrified as Dimitri had seemed when I was offering him my help. He was so afraid to let me touch him. And why couldn't I help him? What could possibly be wrong that I couldn't-oh no. God no.

"Your-your leg . . ." I couldn't finish. I just couldn't bear to say it.

Dimitri brought up his head and met my gaze. His eyes were desolate, lacking all hope and the light that hope brought with it. His lip was cut and a trickle of blood trailed halfway to his chin. He nodded.

"I've been bitten."

I can't honestly tell you what exactly happened next, how I ended up on the ground with my head in my hands, refusing to believe what I had just heard that a part of me already knew before Dimitri even said a thing.

All my fault. It was all my fault. If I would've been faster, if I would've just acted quicker, than he wouldn't be dying before my very eyes.

"No, no, no." I begged and pleaded for it not to be true. I wanted so badly to reverse the clock, go back and have it be me who was the one in need of a cure never discovered. Not him. Not Dimitri.

Strong, powerful, fearless Dimitri, who was infected. Because of me.

"It's not your fault Siren, it's nobody's fault but mine." He tried to convince me otherwise as we sat huddled around a small blaze I produced.

We were camped out in an apartment above an old clothing store just outside of the city. There was one bedroom in the place that had a lock on it, which is why Dimitri wanted to stay here in particular. If the infection got too bad, he would lock himself in the room, and most likely wither and die in there. Later rising up to become one of the corpses hungering for us out on the streets at this very moment.

Signs of the infection usually occurred within one day of the bite, and I could already see the affects. Purplish circles formed under Dimitri's eyes as his skin turned a pale gray. He was losing some of his muscle mass at an alarming rate as well, his clothes looser than they had been just a few hours ago. Every time I looked at Dimitri, I was struck with horror for what was happening to him, guilt, and the sick sense of déjà vu.

I had watched my little sister die just like this. Slowly, painfully, as she cried and begged for me to help her. And me only being able to sit there and comfort her, all the while knowing that there was nothing I could do.

It was safe to say that I had not been infected. My arm felt fine and I was experiencing no symptoms. Looking at Dimitri, shivering even though the fire was going strong, I would've given anything to switch places with him so that he was not the one suffering.

"It's a matter of time now." He said through chattering teeth.

I jumped, startled at how loud his voice was and taken aback by what he had said. I swallowed, clutching my knees tighter to my chest.

Dimitri stared at me, the flames reflected in his eyes. Despite the infection, his green brown eyes were still full of life. I knew with awful certainty that soon his eyes would become dead and film over, turning white. Maybe even completely white, considering the appearance of the Dead outside. I was locked in the power of his gaze, and had to listen to what he was saying, no matter how much it hurt to hear.

"You and I both know it. There's no point in avoiding it."

He was talking about his death. How could you speak about such a thing and yet sound so strong? I shivered, having nothing to do with the cold.

"Look", he said, outstretching his hands close to the fire for warmth. "I realize what's happened to me and I've accepted it. There's nothing to be done about it now. It was my own idiotic decisions that put me in the place I'm in now and again, I've realized and accepted this."

I broke away, staring at the flames that were a product of me. My fire barely warmed myself up, probably because of the chill that numbed me to the core ever since I learned about Dimitri's fate.

"But", he began again. "That doesn't mean I'm going to wallow here and provide you with nothing. I'm aware that you barely know a thing about me, and now I'm going to fix that."

I looked at him again. His jaw was clenched to keep his teeth from knocking together, and sweat had formed on his forehead and glistened on his cheeks. If his dying wish was to give me some information on his life, then I would grant it no matter what.

I nodded. "Okay, I'm listening." 

"You wonder about me.  You wonder why I talked about being different and proud of it. Well, that's because I'm like you. Mind you I can't throw fire or harness any such miraculous ability like that, I am a Seer." He paused, seeming to wait for any questions I might have.

By now I was completely numb, and I was working hard to keep his words from completely skating off of me as I listened to him talk. I wracked my brain for an adequate question, and found one quicker than I had expected.

"What's a Seer?"

"One who has visions of the future. I can't control how frequently the visions occur or how little they do. More than not though, they come true." He explained.

I sat with probably the dumbest, most uncomprehending look on my face. By now, I had no reason not to