Dark Shadow

by Danielle Rose

  With striking accuracy among the rubble, the person who left this threat has made his intentions clear.

  You’re next.

  With the bottom edges bleeding into the ash, the letters are long and slender, as if they were written with the tip of a blade rather than fingers. Each line is carved so deeply, I fear it will never wash away.

  Numb, useless husks, my arms fall limp to my sides. My legs wobble and my knees throb. Gravity takes hold, and I fall to the floor, slamming against the dirt. My weight burrows into ash, and it cakes my skin, as if trying to claim me as its own, as if it also understands that I was supposed to die here.

  I touch the message, running my fingertips against the soft soil. Even though I move with such effortless strokes, anger is erupting within me. It overwhelms me so quickly, so completely; I viciously tear through the words, swiping them away until the threat lingers only in my mind—my eyes will never again bear the truth of it.

  As soon as I complete my task, eliminating any appearance of what that man wrote here, something shifts in the room. The air tingles and prickles at my skin. The heat intensifies, my lungs spasm, and a buzzing erupts from the silent shadows. The steady crackling of magic pops all around me. I am so fixated on the air, I neglect to see anything else. But Jasik, ever-focused and always watching, notices what changed, what I was meant to see.

  Jasik gasps and curses under his breath. I glance back at him, seeing his eyes wide, his jaw ajar in a gasp.

  “Ava, come to me,” he orders.

  But I don’t return to his side, and he does not move closer to me. I turn back and glance up, following his gaze, shrieking the moment I see it.

  “Mamá?” I whisper, my voice straining.

  With tears streaming down my cheeks, I wail, crying so hard I can barely breathe and screeching so loud the neighbors should hear me.

  But I don’t care.

  Because mere feet from the message I just swiped away, there is a mound of cremains. Beside the human debris now resorted to ash, there is the burnt remains of a woman. Her skin is charred and black, the red flesh beneath exposed and singed and angry. She is perfectly preserved, almost magically so, but when I choke out a breath, crawling to her side, she begins to decompose.

  By the time I reach her, desperate to pull her close to me, to cradle her in my arms and protect her from the harshness of this world, she has dissolved, crumbling to ash and mixing with the others.

  “Ava…” Jasik’s voice breaks as he says my name, but I don’t look back at him.

  I burrow my fingers into the soft ash, scooping it up as if I can restore what has long since departed this earth. My tears streak the cremains, forming dark blobs with each hiccupped breath.

  Last night, when I thought I heard their cries, I was right. I did. They were here, trapped in the basement, desperate for an escape.

  Did they see me stumble down here while looking for them? Were they hopeful that I had come as their rescuer? Did they watch as I used magic to save only myself?

  Jasik grabs on to me, yanking me toward him, and as he does, the cremains I held fall through the gap between my hands. They flutter to the ground, landing in a heap before me. But unlike before, when I mourned the loss of our altar, evidence of their deaths taints my skin in gray. I swipe at it, unable to remove what is slowly becoming part of me.

  Jasik spins me around, and I burrow my face into the crevice of his neck. He wraps his arms around me and whispers something against my hair. His skin is slick with my tears, and every time I move, he holds me tighter and begs me not to look.

  From the depths of my soul to the point of my nose, I am awash with grief. The pain is so raw, so completely unbearable, I am certain it will never release me from its clutch. It overwhelms my mind, creating a budding fury raging within.

  I think about that man and the message he scrawled, and it gives me closure to know I will soon avenge my fallen.

  And from the amulet dangling between us, nestled comfortably against my flesh, I feel my shadow-self smile.

  Chapter Seven

  I sit mute on the couch while Jasik explains to the hunters what happened at my mother’s house. He and Malik are arguing, but I tune them out. I understand Malik’s frustration at our recklessness, but we did it. It happened. Dwelling will change nothing. And honestly, I don’t care to discuss the fact that we went back to my house. If I hadn’t gone back, I would not know my former coven is gone or that my mother is…

  I swallow hard. A knot has formed in my chest, and it is beginning to rise, looming ever closer to my throat. I know it will smother me. I will suffocate as bile spills from my gut, consumed by the wafting odor, struggling to breathe, just like them. Fire may not claim my body, but it certainly has my soul.

  The reality that I am alone—truly, utterly, irrevocably alone—is settling in. The pain and anger and fear consuming me will never cease because there are few things more terrifying than spending eternity alone.

  I understand Will’s fear, his desire to find someplace he can call home, because standing at the edge, a vast abyss before me, knowing I am immortal, is frightening. My future is grim, the truth of that like a noose around my neck, slowly but surely stealing every last bit of my breath and sanity.

  Someone sits down beside me and slides a hand beside mine. My palms tingle at the sudden skin-on-skin contact. I have been staring at the floor for what feels like hours, so hypnotized by the grain in the hardwood, I didn’t even notice him approaching me.

  It takes every last bit of strength I have to react. I sit upright, correcting my slouched position, and crane my neck to the side so I can meet his gaze. I don’t bother to attempt smiling or speaking. I barely acknowledge his presence at all, actually. The flicker of my gaze, the sigh of my heart, is all I can offer him.

  Holland is beside me, face broken by his distress. His brown hair is messy and fluffed over to one side. His nightclothes are wrinkled and stretched, his shirt splattered with remnants of toothpaste. His eyes are blurred and cloudy, his skin pink, his nose puffy. His tears have streaked his pale skin in faint white lines. Without my heightened senses, I probably wouldn’t even see them, but I focus on them now, desperately trying to consume his strength where our skin meets, like the leaching, parasitic vampire I have become.

  But I can’t. My powers don’t work that way. I may be able to lean on Holland, but the strength to overcome my agony must come from within me. And right now, I’m not sure I can sift through the darkness to find the light.

  Holland is speaking to me now. His lips move, his tongue flops around inside his mouth. I watch it move so effortlessly, so precisely, it nearly puts me to sleep. I’m exhausted from the tears wept, but the more I think about what happened, the harder additional tears fall.

  They arrive as quickly as a flood, but I am still shackled to the seafloor. I suffer as the waves crash over me, pushing me deeper into the abyss. I attempt to withstand their brute force, succumbing to a greater fury. I know I am drowning, the anguish enough to fill my lungs as I cry out for help.

  I turn away from Holland and stare at the floor again. I think he is still talking to me. At least, I know someone is repeating my name, but my mind is foggy and throbbing. It grows louder with each second that passes. I wait for it to become rhythmic, a slow croon edging me closer to hibernation or to death.

  Holland squeezes my hand and caresses my skin with his thumb. He leans closer and whispers his apologies in my ear. Finally, I hear him. When he is this close, I can’t avoid his honesty, but I can avoid the waves. His proximity pulls me to the surface, and I break free of that tension. He smells like cinnamon—probably from his daily cup of tea. His breath is warm against my cheek, his words brutal and vicious. They tear right through my flesh, piercing my heart.

  I yank free of him, unable to withstand his emotional torture for a second longer. I may not be sinking into the depths any longer, but he has me rising so swiftly into the unknown that I am becoming light-headed and na
useated. I am desperate to find land, to rest my heavy bones on something solid and real. But I am floating among the clouds now, too far gone to rely on earth’s gravity to keep me safe.

  Resting my elbows on my thighs, I press my forehead to my palms. I am rocking back and forth, keeping my gaze glued to the floor, but all I see are my boots. Scuffed and covered in soot, they remind me of everything I lost, everything I witnessed today.

  I still smell her decaying flesh. I still picture her raw, pink innards scorched by flames. Never meant to be bared, they were angry and inflamed. I still hear the sound of her cries for help, the screech in her voice as she called out to me for help. Had she not been hexed to live life as basic as a powerless human, she might have saved herself. She might still be alive. They all might be alive—if not for me.

  Their cries are growing louder, so I focus on the floor, body shaking, fingernails scratching my scalp bloody. Tears splatter onto the hardwood, and my vision blurs. I try to blink away the muddled mess I have produced, but I can’t keep up. With my distraction slowly escaping me and my heightened senses rapid firing, I am forced to partake in the conversation around me. I hear their concern, but all I want is to dip back into that murky darkness, where I am unable to decipher what is water and what are tears.

  “I think I should give her something,” Holland says. His words startle me, but I don’t object. I don’t even bother looking up.

  “Like what?” Hikari asks, her tone unmistakable. “What can possibly make this better for her?”

  “I meant I can create an elixir to help her sleep, that’s all,” Holland says, his voice stern. I imagine him rolling his eyes at her, but I don’t care enough to see if I’m right.

  The sound of shuffling around the room rings in my ears, but still, I never look up. Instead, I close my eyes, visions of my former house looping in my mind. I don’t want to witness this. I want to be free of what I saw today, but I refuse to dishonor my family by neglecting to remember them. I have thought about my father so often, it is as though he is alive in my mind. Mamá deserves the same loyalty, even if she behaved atrociously toward me these past several months.

  The couch shifts as someone sits beside me. I don’t have to look up to know it is Jasik. The link that connects us also alerts me when he is near. My skin prickles, my heart hums, my core burns for him. He offers clarity, becoming my sole focus.

  Holland releases my hand instinctively, and my sire wraps an arm around my back while leaning into me. I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. I find it soothing, comforting. It silences the noise in my own head. Jasik rubs his hand up and down the length of my back, slowly, softly, methodically, and each stroke brings me closer to peace. I close my eyes, letting the voices slip away.

  “Is it possible to give her something for her memory?” Jasik asks, and my eyelids flutter open.

  “Is it fair to steal that from her without permission?” Hikari counters.

  They talk about using dangerous magic to influence my mind as if I am not here, sitting silently beside them. The fact that no one considers asking me what I want angers me, but I don’t bother speaking up. I suppress my frustration, letting it boil until the hunters make their decision.

  “Hikari,” Malik warns, voice firm.

  “What? Maybe she wants to remember,” Hikari says in a huff.

  I appreciate Hikari’s defense, but she’s wrong. I don’t want to remember, but I need to. I must. With my coven gone, no one is alive to remember them—no one but me, that is. And while I would offer my life’s blood to forget the massacre I witnessed in that basement, I wouldn’t dare invoke such dark magic to rid myself of the memory. My coven is a testament to how dangerous the black arts are. They were nearly driven insane by it, and now protecting their creation is my burden to carry.

  A sickening thought occurs to me: as much as I worry I will be alone for all eternity, I know that’s not true. The evil thing tucked carefully within the confines of my amulet will be with me until the moment I die. The amulet at my throat wiggles against my skin, and I know the creature inside is thrilled by this thought.

  “She doesn’t want to remember,” Jasik says confidently.

  “You don’t know that,” Hikari argues. “Being a sire doesn’t make you a mind reader.”

  “How bad was it?” Malik asks, ignoring Hikari’s keen remark.

  “The memory of what she saw today will haunt her forever,” Jasik says simply.

  I appreciate that he isn’t sharing details, but I know this is a courtesy meant only for this particular moment. Later, he will explain what happened, in detail, long after I am fast asleep, my mind too foggy for my senses to wake me to the sound of his voice. Eventually, they will know everything, and they too will bear the weight of it—just not as much as me.

  “As a solitary witch, I may not be part of a coven, but I agree with Jasik,” Holland says. “If it was as bad as I think it was, this will change her.”

  “I assume that was his intention,” Jasik says.

  “Do we know anything more about the man the humans saw?” Malik asks.

  “No. We were alone in the house. He was long gone, but…” Jasik says, trailing off.

  The room falls silent. After a few unbearably long seconds, someone finally speaks.

  “What is it?” Malik asks.

  “Ava was attacked by rogues while patrolling,” Jasik explains. “One got away. This happens right after her house burns down and her mother was killed? That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “It’s not,” I whisper.

  Again, the room falls silent. I sit upright, continuing to lean against Jasik as I wipe the pain from my face. I take several deep, slow breaths before I face them. All eyes are on me, and thankfully, the room appears to be patient, allowing me the time I need to gather my thoughts.

  “I know he had something to do with this,” I say.

  “How do you know that?” Malik asks. “I agree that this being a coincidence is unlikely, but let’s not jump to assumptions. We patrol nightly because rogues are a threat. It makes sense that you stumbled upon a few.”

  “Coincidences like this don’t occur in Darkhaven,” I say plainly.

  “Perhaps not, but we need a bit more to go on,” Jeremiah says, backing up Malik.

  I meet his gaze, finding him standing beside Holland, who moved to the seat across from me as soon as Jasik came to comfort me. Holland offers a weak, apologetic smile, but I’m not sure what for. Is it for the death of my coven or for his boyfriend’s pointed remark? Honestly, I don’t know, and I don’t care. There is so much pity surrounding me, I am finding it hard to breathe.

  “This rogue was different,” I explain. “He sired the others.”

  “Are you sure?” Malik asks.

  His disbelief is clear in his tone, but I haven’t the energy to convince him. He doesn’t have to believe me. Like the others, he will find out soon enough how much stronger this rogue is than all the others we have faced. Eventually, they will all see that this rogue turning up in Darkhaven the day after my mother was murdered is no coincidence.

  “I’m sure,” Jasik says, cutting in, as if he alone could sense how desperately I needed that save right now. Maybe the look of defeat is etched into my face. I glance up at him, smiling weakly, hoping I don’t look as resigned as I feel.

  “That is a rare creature,” Malik says. “A rogue who sires…”

  “It is,” Jasik agrees.

  “That is a powerful creature,” Hikari clarifies.

  “He was,” I agree.

  “I’m shocked you survived,” Jeremiah says.

  I flinch at his words, even though his tone is neutral. I can’t fault him for his harshness because his concern is valid.

  Holland reaches over and smacks him on the arm, silencing his lover. Jeremiah feigns shock and discomfort, but he knows he is crossing boundaries. Ever since we lost Amicia, Jeremiah has been less willing to patrol with us. He worries
about Holland, and I understand. I don’t want to lose him either.

  “I barely survived,” I say. “There were two others I managed to kill first. The only reason I’m still here is because he heard Jasik approaching.”

  “I think it’s best we patrol in pairs until we find him,” Jasik says.

  “Agreed,” Malik says, nodding. “And Ava, I know how hard this must be for you, but any additional information you can give us about him may help.”

  I remain silent, replaying my fight with the vampire again and again. I feel his breath against my skin, his hands at my throat, his promise that this isn’t over. I begin to shake, knowing there is so much the others don’t know but unwilling to be the one who shares those intimate details. Instinctively, I reach for my throat, sucking in a sharp breath.

  “He was able to force his way into one of Ava’s dreams,” Jasik says, speaking aloud what I cannot.

  “What?” Holland asks, gasping. “That’s not possible.”

  “It happened,” I say quietly. I hold my chest, rubbing my hands over my arms, not meeting the gazes of the curious vampires surrounding me. Jasik’s hand is firm at my back, grounding me in this moment. I’m grateful, for I fear I might float away.

  “But that’s absolutely impossible,” Holland says. “Spirit witches harness a rare kind of magic. You need a special link to the astral plane in order to dream walk or to receive visions. Rogue vampires are severed from the magical world. They are soulless, unnatural creatures, the embodiment of true evil. It just simply cannot happen.”

  I sigh sharply, seething internally. “Fine. It didn’t happen. I made it up, hoping to waste everyone’s time and prolong a conversation I have no desire to continue.”