When I finally find the courage to face her, I glance over my shoulder, daring a peek. Her body is gaunt, her bony body nothing but sharp edges and slender limbs. She seems taller than I remember, but I am not surprised. She looks nothing like the woman I once knew.
Her skin is pale, emphasized by the thin black veins that spread like spider webs over every inch of her exposed skin. The darkness spreads through her flesh, marking it as its own, and when I look at it, it moves, seeping even deeper, claiming control over every part of her soul.
The moment my gaze meets hers, I scream. The whites of her eyes are as dark as obsidian now. Her brown irises are lined with black, and the evil there moves too, blending seamlessly with her pupils. Her eyes have become black pits, hollow and lifeless.
Her breath is rancid and pungent—much like the foul odor I smelled earlier, when my senses were warning me of her presence—and I choke back a gag, swallowing the vomit that spills into my mouth. When she speaks to me, I notice her teeth. They are stained and rotting, black and vile.
She smiles at me and laughs, but she sounds nothing like my grandmother. Because she is no longer Abuela. She is a monster, consumed by darkness. I know I should not feel bad for her, but I do. I tell myself she had this coming. This is her fate. She dabbled with the dark arts, danced with the devil, and this is the cost she must bear.
And even though I know all of this—I know she cast that spell as a form of punishment to make me suffer—I still can’t help but pity her. Not that long ago, I would have died for her. Now, I want nothing more than to put distance between us.
I rip my hand free, and as I do, I stumble backward, tripping as I tumble to the group. A burst of ash erupts before me, scattering all around, blinding me. I slam against the ground, my hip jutting out to pivot my fall, and pain radiates through my leg.
I blink, the air clearing. Suddenly, I am no longer surrounded by smoke. The haze clears, the looming threat of a fire gone. The formidable odor of flames is smothered, and the world becomes clear again.
I was not dreaming, but I was not present either. While I was trapped in the witches’ glamor magic, my world was crumbling. With the spell broken, the illusion shattered, I am sitting on the ground, sinking into a pit of ash. I hold up my hands before me, and they are coated in dust. What I thought was the product of fire was the cremains of my friends. While I was envisioning a world consumed by fire, my friends were fighting for their lives.
I shriek as I scan the room for the hunters. I can think of nothing else until I see them safe. Hikari and Jeremiah are dodging attacks, but Malik and Jasik are nowhere to be found. Where is Holland? And Will? As I search the room, vampires before me combust, and I am forced to watch.
“Stand, Ava,” someone says.
Abuela approaches me, not bothering to protect herself from possible attacks. I do not have to ask her why she is as confident as she seems. Surrounding her small, frail frame is a dark aura. The haze seeps into the air around her, coating her skin in a misty black goo.
As the high priestess of her coven, my grandmother has access to the magic and power of every witch beneath her. This evil presence is smart. The dark entity consuming her goodness and her sanity set its sights on her, targeting the most powerful witch in the coven, knowing it will have access to everyone’s magic through one elder source.
Immediately, I know what I have to do. I must kill her before she kills me, but that will not stop the evil from spreading. It will simply move to the next in line: my mother.
Born from the witches’ actions, this evil will continue to work its way through every member of that coven until it has obtained enough power to leech on to yet another coven and then another. The consequences of using black magic, of dabbling in the dark arts, is so severe that no one should ever be allowed to access it. I can see now that this magic feeds on anger and hatred—and what better coven to provide sustenance than my own? They cast out their own flesh when I became a vampire, and they hated me every second of every day from that point forward. My grandmother was the perfect agent.
I know all of this and more. I know I should move, run, leap from the inevitable attack coming my way, but I can’t. I am frozen in time, rooted in place, left only to watch as my own grandmother approaches. Using her air magic to pin me in place, she moves slowly, confidently, with a hideous grin plastered across her face.
While she approaches me, I wonder if I did exactly what the darkness wanted. I reversed the spell, returning the witches’ powers so it could feed once again. Slowly, we were dying, but maybe a death at the hands of our own actions would have been better than slowly losing our minds and being eaten alive by whatever this thing is.
I think it is fair to say this is no longer a darkness. This evil has become real. It is an entity that craves life and destruction, and I cannot allow it to leave the manor. It must be destroyed, and if it cannot die, then it must be contained.
Suddenly, my grandmother stops. Still several feet away, she raises a single hand before her and summons her magic. The wind shifts, becoming grittier, harsher, and she uses that to solidify it into shards from nothing but the cool, winter breeze. I watch as it swirls round and round, taking form, becoming lifelike in her very palm.
Still pinned in place, my pulse is racing, my heart pounding so loudly, I can hear nothing else. My grandmother drives her arm forward, throwing her magic into the air and aiming her daggers directly at me. I shriek and claw at the floor, desperate to move but unable to go far. I manage to shimmy over, but I am nowhere near far enough away to save myself.
The shards of air poniards slice through the space, and I hear them zipping toward me. They sound like a thousand buzzing bees swarming around my head, but the moment they tear through flesh, something changes. The air feels…off.
I blink, and the air magic directed at me is gone, lost somewhere, rooted deeply in flesh, evaporating as though they never existed to begin with. And I feel no pain. Could they have missed me?
I have no time to consider what is happening. The world is spinning, with everything moving too quickly, and I am falling. Something solid slams against me, and I grunt loudly as I fall to the ground. The back of my head smacks against the hardwood floor, and I am dazed. My vision blurs briefly before it clears again.
Something hot and sticky seeps into my T-shirt. It coats my skin as the aroma quickly reaches my nose.
Blood.
The air becomes sweet and thick, my stomach rumbles, and I suck in a sharp breath as I lick my lips. I cannot stop myself from the effects blood has over me. My blood lust is back and stronger than ever before.
I shift, moving upright, and the force that pinned me in place tumbles over. I blink several times, taking in the sight before me, unbelieving of what I see.
Spiritless, he stares up at me. His eyes already glossy, as though he did not just take his final breath. Blood spews from a gaping wound in his chest. With the air magic disintegrated, no evidence remains except for the hole, displaying flesh never meant to be bared. I see bone and muscle, tissue and blood, but nothing moves, nothing works. Everything just looks dead.
He stares up at me, his neck bent back uncomfortably, and his eyes are hollow, empty pits.
And as I stare at Will’s lifeless body, now still in my arms, I scream.
Chapter Nine
Will is dead. He sacrificed himself to save me from my grandmother’s ruthless attack. And now that he lies limp within my arms, I am frozen in place, stunned by what has transpired.
How is this possible? How is he dead?
Only yesterday, only a few hours ago, just before bed, I spoke with Will, and he told me his dreams. He explained why and how he released his magic, choosing to store it within me. He had plans and hopes. He was supposed to live his life before he died a mortal death, not die shortly after setting himself free.
He is supposed to walk out the door, never looking back. I am supposed to break down, crying in Jasik’s arms because I have los
t yet another friend. But not like this. He was to leave my life by choice, not by my grandmother’s hand.
And now he is dead, and I do not understand why. How can things change so harshly and so quickly? Life is not supposed to be this hard, this confusing, this catastrophic. Darkhaven is supposed to be a place where the supernatural finds peace. It should be a safe haven.
I am shaking, and I pull Will’s body closer, cradling him in my arms. Tears burn behind my eyes and drip down my cheeks. I speak to him, but he does not respond. I call his name, but he never blinks.
Someone shouts at me. I hear my name. I hear her pained voice as she tries to warn me, but I am broken, frozen in place, unable to move, to think, to react.
I look up in time to see it, to watch it happen, to bear witness to yet another Darkhaven downfall. This time, the cost is too much to bear. My broken soul shatters, and all I can do is watch it happen.
My grandmother is angry, her body practically fuming as she charges forward. Her magic was meant to kill me, not Will. She is furious that he paid the ultimate cost to ensure my survival. I can see it in her eyes. This time, she will not miss.
The darkness radiates from her in staggering waves. Her magic slams into me, pinning me in place. I struggle against it, but with Will’s dead weight also slowing me down, I am not fast enough.
Abuela closes the space between us quickly, as if she does not walk but glides forward. She floats over to me, moving so quickly, I can barely keep up with her movements.
The instinctual reaction to push aside Will’s body is smothered by my desire to keep him close. I know I can do nothing for him now, but abandoning him like this just feels wrong. He would want me to, I know that, but that still does not make leaving him behind in order to save myself any easier.
Again, someone screams my name. I hear her panic, her worry for my safety, but even if I wanted to, I could not safely stand, not with Will’s lifeless body weighing me down. I am strong and fast, but my grandmother has proved that she is stronger and faster. The evil residing within aids her, offering my grandmother superior power—even a hybrid is no match for her. I am not stronger than a malevolent high priestess who has access to untapped, raw power, and if I cannot stop her, I fear no one can.
The moment Abuela is only a foot before me, something flashes before my eyes. My rescuer’s movements are dark, precise. She moves effortlessly, stopping my grandmother’s attack and casting her own devious maneuvers meant to outsmart my grandmother.
My savior is the superior fighter, but I see something heinous in my grandmother’s eyes. Abuela expected their protection, their devotion to me. She knew it would come to this.
The moment Amicia reaches my grandmother’s side, she slams her fisted hand against the older woman’s sternum. Within the palm of her hand, Amicia holds a long, sleek dagger, which is now nestled deep in my grandmother’s chest. I hear the moment the blade slices through flesh, piercing Abuela’s heart.
My grandmother’s eyes nearly bulge from their sockets as she releases a loud cry. Bloody spit bubbles pool around the corners of her mouth as she whispers something into Amicia’s ear. The vampire freezes, her body jerking sharply.
I feel the heat radiating off my skin.
I hear the sizzling, crackling sound of flames igniting.
I smell the pungent odor of scorched flesh and burning hair.
I understand what is happening, even if I still am unable to react. Internally, I am connecting the dots, drawing lines to form the explanations my frozen thoughts require. Deep down, I know this will be the stifling heat I need to thaw my body, to force me into action.
And then I see it. I watch it happen. Less than five seconds pass, moments that tick by forever altering the lives of every creature surrounding me.
One second passes.
My grandmother’s words reach my ears, and my heightened senses are eager to latch on to them, even though I do not need to eavesdrop to realize what she has done.
Two seconds pass.
Amicia sucks in a sharp, painful breath, an exasperated noise that echoes all around the room. In response to my grandmother’s abrupt and unforeseen attack, Amicia lashes out, grabbing Abuela by the throat and sinking her fingers into the frail woman’s flesh. Blood spews from gaping wounds, showering the vampire sire in blood.
Three seconds pass.
The other vampires halt their attacks, many losing their lives to the witches in the process. Something flashes behind their eyes, like the quick snap of a trigger releasing. Something—maybe a thought, maybe a feeling—crashes into their minds, and they know.
I might have been the only witness up until this point, but no longer am I the only one who knows what has just happened.
Four seconds pass.
Every vampire in the manor save for me falls to the ground. The sharp smack of knees slamming against the hardwood floor sends vibrations through the wood. The sensation tingles, shimmying through my muscles and shaking my innards awake.
By the fifth second, Amicia is lit aflame, and in the very same second, she combusts, bursting into ash and showering down over me. The vampires on the floor scream in agony, as though her death physically pains them as well.
I scan the others until I find him. Jasik is clutching his chest, but he is looking at me. His eyes are burning a bright, neon crimson red. Then he screams, but before he released the heart-wrenching bellow that is preventing me from hearing any other cry, a wave of anguish crosses his face. I see the exact instant it happens. His look of agony punctuates this time and place, marking us in this moment.
Amicia is dead. The reality of her death hits me just as Jasik looks away.
My grandmother falls to the ground, lifeless beside Will. As she exhales her final breath, my mother—mere feet away the entire time her high priestess was attempting to murder me—sucks in a sharp, staggering breath.
In less than five seconds, Amicia died. Abuela died. My mother became the new high priestess of her coven. Abuela’s natural abilities are transferring to Mamá—her power, her access to the full coven’s magic, and her burdens, like the darkness that consumed her. The evil embodying my grandmother will consume my mother’s soul too. And when Mamá looks at me, I know she understands.
I shake, struggling to breathe. The weight of Will’s corpse before me and the dusting of Amicia’s ash coating my skin is too much to bear. Now, I watch as Jasik falls, physically pained by the death of his sire. Unable to contain the emotions rising in my chest, I allow them to spill from my mouth, and I scream.
As if summoned by my regret, the elements come alive. The air is hot and sticky, causing condensation to drip down my skin, streaking my body with long gashes when it mixes with ash. Outside the manor, the animals react. Birds screech, and I hear the flapping of their wings as they dart into the sky as one massive flock.
The earth moves. The house rumbles, shaking, creaking, jutting from side to side as I release bellow after bellow of hatred and frustration and agony. Pictures hanging on the walls fall to the floor. Windows shatter. Doors slam shut. Books fall from shelves. Furniture topples over. Walls crack.
One by one, the vampires regain their composure, all setting their sights on me, but I refuse to release the earth. One way or another, I will stop the witches from wreaking greater havoc on this town, even if I must sacrifice all of Darkhaven to do it.
“Ava,” someone shouts, voice pained.
Jasik is lying on the floor, and he tries to crawl to me. He grips the hardwood with only his fingertips. The scraping sound that follows, as he drags his hands against the grain, desperately trying to pull himself closer to me, is enough to pierce my heart.
My sire, my lover, my savior, is losing this battle. The vampires around him are few in number. All are weakened by Amicia’s demise, and they look to me for answers. Already, so many have died. Our numbers have dwindled. One thing is certain. I must save them. Amicia’s sacrifice will be meaningful, and I will make her proud.
> Grunting, muscles stiff, I tumble over, releasing Will’s body from my clutches. He rolls onto the floor, lying beside my grandmother’s remains. Now that the darkness has fled, she looks like the woman I once knew, and my heart sinks. It should not have come to this, but she gave us no other choice.
On my hands and knees, I stare at the floor, which splinters. Shards of wood stick up, threatening to end my life if I make just one wrong move. I grab on to one, squeezing it so tightly, I begin to bleed. The stinging pain in my hand overwhelms me, calming my spirit. Slowly, chest heaving, mind spinning, heart pounding in my ears, I attempt to release my hold over the elements.
A hand rests on my arm, jolting me back to this moment, here and now, and I look up at him. Somehow, he managed to reach my side without me ever noticing. I have been so distracted, so consumed by the clutches of magic, I did not even realize that I was in danger.
“Holland,” I whisper.
“You did good, Ava,” he says softly, smiling. His eyes are pained, his body feels weak. His skin is dirty and stained with blood. “It is time to release the elements now.”
Breathing heavily, I nod. I want to tell him that I am trying, but the elements are all around me, surging through the air, empowering me to press on, to release them only when the witches have paid for their crimes. Because they must. They deserve to die. They deserve…
That final thought sits with me, sinking in, rooting so deeply it shakes my core. I whimper. What happened to me? What happened to the girl I once was?
Pain.
Destruction.
Death.
These are the only things I have learned from the witches who bore me, who granted me life. Since my transition, I have realized one important fact: my coven lied to me about everything. The witches used me to pass down judgment on creatures they knew nothing about. I tried to save them, to help them, to show them the truth, and they cursed me in response.
Dark Curse Page 13
