“Do you want to tell me about that?” Jasik asks. “About your nightmares?”
His voice is delicate, barely a whisper. I know he is coaxing me into submission, into honesty, and even though he deserves to know, needs to know, speaking the words aloud hurts. Every time I think about those dreams, I feel the reality of them like a blade to the heart. Denying their truth was a novice mistake—one I am too experienced to have made—but it was all I could handle. But will he understand that? Will the others?
“I watch you die,” I whisper. “Every night. A million different ways. It always ends the same.”
Jasik is silent as he considers my confession. When he finally exhales, the sound is gentle, slow, and it eases the tension in my body. It almost sounds like acceptance, like forgiveness. Until this moment, I didn’t realize how desperately I needed that.
I knew it would come to this—my admission. As soon as I go downstairs, the floodgates will open, and I will be forced to admit yet more mistakes and deal with the consequences of my choices. The vampires have granted me more trust than I deserve, but eventually, they will have had enough. I fear this is that moment.
It was far too easy to convince myself my visions were the result of an overactive imagination. I meant no harm, but that doesn’t lessen my blunder. I knew better. I may be a newborn vampire, but I have been a spirit witch my entire life. I know the signs. A vision here or there can be easily missed, but nightly dreams with the same outcome… I was foolish. Steadfast in my pursuit of happiness, I was willing to risk everything for child’s play.
“I make the same mistakes every time,” I admit. “I keep too much from you.”
“You do, but I understand this is difficult for you. You have been alone for a long time, Ava. Did your coven ever trust you or your visions?”
I shake my head, words just out of reach. The truth is, they never believed in me. I was always a novice, even if I didn’t make as many stupid mistakes as I do now. They never thought I was worthy enough.
“You are this distrusting because of the way you were raised. I can’t fault you for your behavior. It will take time for you to realize that we only want to see you succeed as a vampire, to enjoy the second chance you were given.”
“The others won’t understand,” I say.
“They aren’t…” Jasik sighs heavily. “Well, they aren’t happy about it, but they know transitioning is difficult. This isn’t a quick process. Becoming a vampire isn’t merely physical. Your entire being is changing. Your psychological makeup and even your emotions are affected by this. I promise they will forgive you.”
“Are you upset with me?” I ask. I hate that the others are angry, but right now, I care more about Jasik’s opinion of me.
“I won’t deny that your lack of trust hurts. I want you to confide in me. I want to share your burdens, to carry them for you in every way I can. But I won’t force you to bare yourself to me. I will wait until you’re ready,” Jasik says.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I promised I wouldn’t keep secrets anymore, and I hid this from you.”
“Let’s not consider this a secret, then,” Jasik says plainly.
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”
“I think the reason you didn’t tell me about your visions isn’t because you wanted to keep them from me. I think you couldn’t accept the outcome. Sometimes it’s easier to pretend things aren’t real. I’m not exactly a newborn vampire, Ava. I’ve seen and done a lot of things I don’t want to talk about, so I’m not surprised these visions were too difficult to mention.”
I don’t miss the fact that he referred to my nightmares as visions—not once but twice. He’s right: labeling them as what they are is a reality I’m not yet ready to face.
I know my dreams were visions. I can admit that to myself now, but I couldn’t then. Not after everything that happened. Not after everyone we lost. But hearing that aloud, talking about them and discussing action, is just too much right now. Between fearing for Jasik’s life, worrying about my mother, deciphering the crows, fearing the evil entity I must protect, and wondering who the mysterious man is, I am running out of sanity. There is only so much of me to go around.
Feeling suffocated by the truth of his words, I stand abruptly, pulling my arm free from his grasp. He releases me easily, not daring to force a conversation I’m not ready for or pin me in place until I can talk about it. He understands even broken wings yearn to soar.
I take several steps away, my mind swirling, the fire in my belly matching the intensity from earlier today. My chest burns, and the heat there is all I can think about.
Too much is happening too suddenly. I feel as though I am being pulled in every direction and my skin is ripping away. My body feels heavy, my limbs numb.
“I’ll be okay, Ava,” Jasik says. His voice is soothing, but it is no match for my raging emotions.
I close my eyes, and a memory consumes me. I see him—Jasik, my lover, my sire—bursting into flames, and before I can react, the wind carries away his ashes. Although he is forever out of reach, I stumble forward, frantic in my attempt to reach him, to grab hold of what remains.
I never catch him.
I never save him.
In these dreams, I am never the hero.
I open my eyes, a newfound rage springing to life. I am shaking, skin hot from anticipation of what’s to come. I feel it rising within me, a familiar sensation I haven’t experienced in weeks.
“We don’t know that,” I say, snapping. I don’t know what’s worse—denying we have a problem or pretending our problem is easily handled. Again, my visions aren’t being taken seriously. Jasik is waving away my concern just as the witches used to.
My voice is angry and harsh, and I watch Jasik wince. Maybe my truth, my doubt, is finally too much for him to handle.
Something inside me speaks. It reminds me that in the end, I am always alone. Its voice is deep and dark, and after it tells me that eventually even my sire will abandon me, it laughs. I turn away from Jasik, keeping my gaze on the ground, not wanting him to see how much that truth upsets me.
“Your dreams are warnings, are they not? Now that I know, I’ll be careful. We can beat this—together.”
“It’s not that easy, Jasik,” I hiss. “My visions aren’t always preventable.”
The chain at my neck rattles, the amulet warming against my skin. Jasik doesn’t seem to notice it, so I believe it’s in my mind—yet another way my imagination is playing tricks on me. I can still hear that laugh—the low, bellowing cackle that makes my insides squirm. It’s all around me now, growing stronger by the second.
I pretend we aren’t in my room. We aren’t talking about Jasik’s impending death because I never envisioned it. Maybe I never even had any nightmares at all. Maybe I made those up too. Maybe I was just seeking attention, like my mother used to say.
“All we can do is try,” he says.
The jingling sound from my necklace is echoing all around me, vibrating off the walls and bouncing around my mind. I feel it bubble in my gut, swarming in circles until it spills from my mouth.
“Just trying is not good enough!” I shout.
I open my eyes, not wanting to be alone in the dark. I’m angry, and as I lift my gaze to meet my reflection, I see her glaring back at me. I gasp, jaw ajar, but she smiles at me, eyes gleaming, mouth upturned like a curling snake.
She reaches her arm up and angles her head to the side so she is just off-center. Jasik appears behind me as he approaches, slowly, cautiously, but I revert my attention back to my reflection.
She lifts her hand, index finger erect and the others curled back, and discreetly, slowly, she draws the nail across my neck in a straight, unfailing line. When she glances at Jasik, I release my rage.
Stomping toward the mirror, I smash my fist against the glass, watching as it breaks into a thousand tiny, spider-webbed pieces. Fragments of glass fall to the tabletop, and I swipe my arms forward, flinging the p
articles until they scatter across the room.
When I look at my reflection, she is no longer smiling. That girl is gone. Instead, I stare at myself, and I look as scared and as broken on the outside as I feel on the inside.
Jasik is directly behind me now. His presence always sends a rush of sensations coursing through my body—from the way the air shifts to the way his cool embrace envelopes me. I am irate, and my fear for his safety overwhelms me.
I don’t want him to see me this way—so erratic and hostile—but I can’t help it. I have lost so much—my family, my friends. I have only recently gotten back my magic, my vampirism. How much more can I handle without breaking down for good?
From behind, Jasik wraps his arms around me, planting his palms squarely against my stomach. His fists bunch the fabric of my T-shirt, exposing the soft, pale skin of my lower abdomen. In the mirror, I watch where his hands touch me, grazing my skin, turning my fury into desire.
I spin around to face him, nestling my body against his. He is tall and fit, a solid frame against my much softer body. It appears we are opposite in every way. He is the calm to my storm, the reason to my rash.
“I can’t lose you too,” I whisper, burying my face against him.
“I’ll never leave you,” he whispers, his breath bristling the hair at my scalp.
He lowers at the exact moment I stand on my tiptoes, our lips brushing. And all at once, the pain, the fear, the anxiety falls away, birthing a longing, a desire rooted so deeply, I feel it from the pads of my toes to the depths of my soul.
I am dreaming. I know this because I’m watching myself sleep. Standing beside my bed, I stare at my body. It is curved against Jasik, nestled under the thin covers. The ceiling fan overhead causes my hair to flutter in the breeze, but it does not wake me.
I reach forward to touch my sire, stopping short of making actual contact. Something distracts me. The growl is low, but I am certain I heard it. And it came from this room.
I spin around, but my bedroom begins to fall away, disappearing like shadows in the night. From where I stand beside the bed, I see it. It hides in the corner, eyes bright and glowing, golden in color and heart-stopping in ferocity.
It steps out, taking a slow, confident stride toward me. The beast looks similar to a wolf but is much larger than any I have ever seen. The closer it comes, the farther back I walk, until I am flush against the wall. Trapped. Still, I try to mold into the drywall, melt away, become one with the house, but it’s no use.
I feel its snout against my skin, but I don’t see it. I have long since closed my eyes, pretending that such action can actually save me from this monster. It is cold and wet, and each abrupt, sharp exhale makes me jolt upright until I am standing on my tiptoes, praying for an escape.
I hear the glass from my window shatter and feel the air in the room shift. I open my eyes to find the beast gone. In its place is the gargoyle, the very one I greet day after day. No longer small or stone, it is towering, with a wingspan larger than me. It releases a loud, shrieking bellow, and the wolf howls at the moon.
When the wolf ceases its struggle, succumbing to the superior wrath of the gargoyle, they both glance at me.
Watching. Waiting. As though even they are unsure of how I will react.
I make eye contact with the gargoyle, and its shimmery silver irises slowly fade to black.
I am alone now. No longer in my bedroom, I escaped, finding refuge in another time, another place. My dreams always happen this way—sudden and short-lived, rash and unsteady. One moment, I am here. The next, I’m not.
I try to assess where I am, but the longer I remain in this place, where spirit resides, the more confused I become. The longer I wait, the harder it is to return to my body. Even though I know this, I know I should return to the manor and wake myself from this dream, I don’t move. Because I haven’t been shown the reason for this vision. Spirit is waiting until the right moment to offer me a glimpse into the future, and I need to know why. Why is it taking so long?
I am breathing heavily now, willingly allowing my uncertainties to consume my emotions. I know I shouldn’t. I need to be smart, to watch carefully for the signs from spirit. But my anxiety has me by the throat, and it has no intention of releasing me.
The darkness surrounding me is closing in, as though it is alive. It shudders and echoes, springing to life, and somehow, I know it enjoys my fear. It feeds off it, trapping me in this silent abyss. The evil that lurks here wants me to join it. I stand my ground, unwavering as an agent of good.
I listen to the rapid bursts of my own breathing, but I see nothing. No sign from spirit. No warning cleverly coated in some obscure vision. The night feels endless, an eternal pit of despair. And it has waited for me for such a long time.
“We’re trapped,” someone whispers, and I jerk at the sound, truly believing I was alone. I gasp at the intrusion.
She keeps her voice low, a nearly silent hiss. A plea. I can’t see her, but I know the sound of her voice.
“Hikari?” I say. I hear her shuffle toward me, but I still cannot see her. I wonder if she is even there. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. The darkness can influence the weak in many ways, and unfortunately, I am weak.
“Ava, what do we do?” she continues. Her panic has increased tenfold. I understand she is looking to me for guidance, but for what? What has happened? I feel as though the veil is only partially lifted. It was enough for Hikari to sneak through, but nothing else. How can I guide her if I do not know where we are? I’m not even sure she’s really here.
“Hikari, is that you?” I repeat, still unsure if this is simply a game, a trick. Is this a vision or my imagination? An incorrect assumption could cost Hikari her life. I need to know if this is why spirit brought me here.
She speaks again, but I don’t understand her words. I am slipping away, but I’m not ready to go. She sounds fear-stricken, muffled and murky. I use the steady beats of her heart as an anchor, hoping they will ground me in place, and suddenly, I sense her. She is near. So close I believe I can reach out and touch her. I try this, stumbling forward and tripping over the air that has quickly become solid.
Hikari is beside me now, steadying my fall. I grab on to her. Knowing she is here with me calms my anxiety. I feel stronger, I think smarter. I become the warrior who always lived inside.
She looks different, tired and weak. She appears wounded, but I don’t smell blood. She is exasperated as she carries me through a labyrinth of tunnels—all ending so abruptly it’s as if they weren’t there to begin with.
Where are we?
“We have to keep moving,” she pleads, keeping her voice low. “We need to find a way out.”
“But we’re trapped. I thought we were trapped,” I say, reminding her of our situation.
She needs to tell me more, to explain what has happened. Where are we? Why is she hurt? Why is she still holding on to me? Her grasp is so tight around my waist, she alone is what’s keeping me upright.
Hikari looks at me, so close I can finally see her clearly. Her eyes are bulging, tears streaming down her face. Her face is smeared with blood, and her hair is in disarray. She gasps, tries to speak, but sound never leaves her lips.
And then she’s gone. Like the darkness, she dissipates, blending into the blackness that surrounds me.
I blink and I’m outside, free of the caves that confined me only moments ago. The sky is light and bright, and I shield my vision as I gaze up. The brightness burns my retinas, and tears fall freely. Daringly, I peer through squinted lids. The sun is overhead, but the earth is cast in shadows.
Confused, I look back, still hoping to find Hikari beside me, but she is gone. I remember her disappearing. Being there one moment, gone the next. I watched her leave as the vision changed, but still, I shout her name and spin in circles, surprised to be alone.
I stop moving and focus on my surroundings. I am in Darkhaven, standing in the middle of a familiar street. The storefronts are dark,
the showrooms empty. The woods are at my left, the town on my right. And even though I see no one, I feel a presence.
Lurking. Watching.
It’s always there, waiting until I close my eyes to make itself known. No matter the place, no matter the situation, it’s there.
I call to Hikari, praying it’s her, but she never responds. I shout again, telling the onlooker to make himself known. I feign confidence and strength, even as I shake and quiver. Something about this place feels chilling and unruly, like death resides here. And death knows I’m here too.
From behind me, I hear my name. The girl who speaks to me is someone I have never met. Even before I turn to look at her, I know this to be true.
I spin and see her, and she is talking to me, but her features are blurred. A faceless figure unknown to me, she is nothing but a small, thin frame with unwavering strength. It practically seeps from her being and fills the air around her.
She speaks again, but instead of focusing on her words, I listen to her voice. Surely I must know her. Why else is she in my dreams?
“Hikari?” I whisper, even though I know this person is not my friend.
Instead of answering my call, the girl screams and points to something behind me, and I feel it. Whatever it is, whatever terrifies her, is there—so close I can hear its raspy breathing. It is heavy and hoarse, and it says my name.
A knot forms in my throat, and I know this is what spirit wanted me to see, and even though every cell of my body is screaming at me to run, I don’t. I fight the desire to flee by twisting, contorting my frame until I am face-to-face with…nothing.
It’s gone.
But in the distance, I see something else. Someone catches my eye. A rogue vampire smiles back at me—his teeth pointy and bright, stained pink by innocent blood. His skin is so pale it’s luminescent. His deep-blue veins form spider webs across his body, and as I look at him, he raises his arm, extending his index finger.
Dark Shadow Page 6
