Dark Shadow

by Danielle Rose

  My lungs spasm at his words, and I release the breath I was holding. I suck in another sharp breath quickly, but it doesn’t lessen the burn in my chest. My eyes water, streaks of tears dripping down my cheeks. I don’t bother wiping them away.

  “Yes,” I gasp. “It’s like that.”

  Jasik pulls me close to him, and I relinquish my entire weight onto his strong frame. With my knees weak and my legs like jelly, he holds us both upright, running a hand through my hair and planting kisses atop my head. He burrows his face in my hair, his breath warm and comforting against my skin.

  I cry while leaning against his chest, allowing his shirt to absorb the evidence. I am shaking, and the harder I convulse, the tighter Jasik holds on to me, as if he alone can suck the agony from my pores and carry it himself.

  When I am done, it feels like the night should be over and the sun should soon rise. I know that’s likely not the case. After all, Jasik doesn’t have a death wish…right?

  Sniffling, I glance up at him, seeing for the first time how broken he is. His eyes swell with anguish—from the ache of losing his own sire or the misery of watching me break into pieces, I will never know. Because once again, words fail me.

  I feel her magic before I even know she is there. It crackles, pulsating through me. The air tingles and thickens as it warms, my skin moist and slick. Long strands of dark-brown hair cling to my forehead, and I push them away, clearing my vision.

  My chest is heavy with each long, slow breath I take. I try to speak up, to warn Jasik of what is coming, but I choke on the words.

  As if sensing my condition, my sire turns back, but he is already several paces ahead of me. After our momentary emotional breakdown, we continued hiking until we were so far from our manor that I feared we would never make it back before sunrise.

  Exploring an area of the forest I had never visited, I was eager to venture farther into the belly of these woods, but now I realize what a rookie mistake we made. Focused solely on finding the rogue vampire, we risked our own necks in the process.

  “What is it?” Jasik asks, frowning.

  I clutch my chest, feeling as though my heart is swelling ten times its normal size. Surely it will burst. It will consume every bit of my chest cavity until it presses against my ribcage, and it will explode, shredding flesh, spraying blood across the forest floor, soaking my lover in what remains.

  “Magic,” I hiss, watching as Jasik’s eyes widen with fear.

  The one thing we hadn’t counted on was witches. Sure, we have our feuds, but with my former coven gone, we assumed the threat from our mortal enemies died with them. We never considered the other covens of Darkhaven and how they might feel about that loss.

  She emerges from the shadows, a wide grin split across her face, like she just caught us doing something bad.

  Her dark hair is twisted into a tight braid, which flops over one shoulder. As she crooks her head to the side, peering at us through hooded lids, the braid disappears behind her. I hear it slide across her leather jacket, and the swooshing sound makes me cringe, almost as though she dresses like this to intentionally disorient her victims.

  Her irises are so dark they appear black, and she narrows them at me, her gaze flicking to the pendant dangling at my neck. It probably looks strange, seeing a vampire wearing a black onyx crystal. If only she knew just how weird the situation actually is.

  The thought occurs to me all at once: this stranger is a witch, and I am going to kill her. I don’t necessarily want to, but if the choice is my life or hers, Jasik’s life or hers, I have already made my decision. I don’t relish the idea of harming a mortal creature, but I am fairly certain she won’t give me another option. She is staring with death-dagger vision, and her blades are pointed straight at my heart.

  She summons her element quickly, a fireball forming in the palm of her hand. She plays with it, bouncing it tauntingly up and down, from hand to hand. I can feel the warmth of it from where I stand, and it makes my legs weak. I imagine the heat of the flame licking my skin, the thick smoke coating my lungs, and I wonder if this is how my mother felt as she spent her dying breath calling for help.

  I don’t react to her presence, and neither does Jasik, though I feel his gaze on me. He wants me to decide, to choose whether or not this girl will live or die. She may be a fire user—one of the more powerful elements to use against vampires—but she is no match for our speed. I can close the space between us before she even makes the decision to flick her wrist to send her magic hurling toward me. I can feed from her before she can blink or snap her neck with minimal exertion.

  But something stops me—the questions swirling within my mind. I have so many, and they loop endlessly. I fear they might remain there, forever unanswered, and I will always wonder if this is the witch I have been looking for. I am certain I felt magic that night, even if I can’t actually prove it.

  Regardless, the blaring truth of her appearance is hard to deny. Why now? Why is this stranger in Darkhaven? Why so soon and so suddenly after my coven was murdered? Did this mysterious new witch have something to do with the fire, with their death? I don’t want to believe that. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, witches aren’t usually confrontational by nature, especially not toward other witches.

  But you’re not a witch, a little voice inside my head whispers.

  Anger is bubbling within my chest, and it will spill free. My pendant buzzes with excitement, catching the girl’s attention yet again. I frown, wondering if she notices the entity contained within the crystal. The vampires never have, but they aren’t connected to the elements the way a witch is, and luckily, my magical friend rarely makes an appearance while Holland is around.

  “Hello, Ava,” she says, and I suck in a sharp breath at the sound of my name.

  “How do you know my name?” I ask. Immediately, I am on guard.

  “I know your family,” she says, accent thick and strong, like the magically infused air surrounding us. The elements hiss, springing to life. I squeeze my palms at my sides, a desperate attempt to control my raging emotions. I fear they may burst from me, shooting fireballs, ice shards, and air daggers in all directions.

  “How do you know her family?” Jasik asks as he steps closer to me. He keeps his gaze focused on our visitor, never looking my way.

  “When might be the last time you saw them?” I add.

  We speak so quickly, our words blending together, a mumbled mess I am certain she will refuse to answer.

  “Nuestras madres eran amigas,” she says.

  The girl closes her fist, and the fireball dissipates. She takes several steps toward us, farther from the safety of the forest and closer to the danger of vampires. I am intrigued by her confidence, but I am also annoyed by her strength. It’s as though she knows I won’t hurt her, and I want to know why. That alone halts me.

  “Our mothers were friends?” I ask, clarifying her confession that she knows my family.

  I find it hard to believe because I have never seen nor heard about this girl before, not in pictures on the walls or stories from my mother. If she is lying, then this is an odd tactic. Does she think a former alliance with my dead coven will save her neck?

  She nods. “A long time ago. They are more like acquaintances now.”

  I notice her use of are instead of were. Either she is smart to cover her tracks and use the present tense in speech, as if my mother is still alive, or she truly has no idea my coven was murdered last night. I am leaning toward the former.

  “Do you know my mother?” I whisper.

  My throat is closing, and I struggle to breathe. But I force myself to maintain my composure. I don’t want her to think she has power over me when the truth is my current condition has little to do with her. Truth is, talking about my mother as if she is still alive feels like a thousand tiny needles piercing my heart.

  “No, I never met her. Only my mother knew her,” she says. “She knew your grandmother too. I’ve nev
er met them.”

  Knew, the little voice at my chest repeats. She knew her…

  “Who are you, and why are you here?” Jasik asks before I have the opportunity to call the witch out on her jumbled tenses.

  “My name is Sofía,” she says. “About two weeks ago, my coven was murdered by a vampire, and I have been hunting him ever since.”

  I gasp, disbelieving her at first.

  She knew her. As in the past. Because she’s dead now. Just like Mamá.

  What are the chances that Sofía has also lost a coven to a vampire? Could we be tracking that same rogue? Is it even possible for him to kill her coven and come straight to Darkhaven to kill mine? The odds seem slim. And why would he be targeting entire covens? More importantly, what are the chances that two covens recently massacred just happened to be connected to my family?

  “How do you know this vampire is here, in Darkhaven?” Jasik asks.

  He shoots me a knowing glance before returning his gaze to the witch. Jasik only looks at me for a second, but his eyes say everything my mind is thinking. He will agree that the chances are slim, that this situation is an awfully rare occurrence, but the smart part of his brain—the one disabled in mine—will force him to find out the truth, for the safety of Darkhaven and our nest.

  “Because a dark power is rising in Darkhaven,” Sofía says. “And I intend to stop it.”

  Back at the manor, everyone is feeling antsy. It’s not every day that two of us leave to patrol and return with a witch, bringing home a stranger, inviting a possible threat into the very place we slumber. But Jasik and I agreed we didn’t have another choice. The sun was soon to rise, and we didn’t want Sofía out of our sight. Not until we had answers.

  “How long have you been privy to the fact that there are different kinds of vampires?” Malik asks, arms crossed over his chest. “From our experience, witches tend to group us in the same category.”

  Sofía smiles, leaning back in her seat, legs crossed. Malik is standing in front of her, towering over Sofía’s much smaller frame. She doesn’t seem fazed, as if a vampire interrogation is just another Tuesday night.

  “I like to think my views are rather…progressive in my thoughts about the magical kingdom,” Sofía says.

  “‘Magical kingdom’? That’s an interesting way to put it,” Jeremiah says.

  He is sitting beside Holland, with one leg hitched over the other, ankle resting on the other leg’s knee. His foot is bouncing, the movement sending shockwaves down his leg and through the hardwood floor. They radiate up my own legs, tingling my spine. Holland reaches over, resting his palm on Jeremiah’s thigh as if to calm him. It doesn’t work.

  “That’s not an answer,” Malik says, narrowing his eyes.

  If I’m honest, I fear for Sofía’s life. She may be a fire user, but she is surrounded by vampires, in an unfamiliar house, in a town she doesn’t know. She doesn’t have many friends here, and from my understanding, she doesn’t have family either.

  No one will miss her if she suddenly disappears. No one would ever know…

  The thought, malicious and far more sinister than anything I thought I was capable of, comes to me quickly, and I gasp. The others glance at me curiously, and I look away, staring at the floor, ashamed of how dark my thoughts have become lately. The amulet at my collar burns so strongly, I have to grab on to it, easing the pain against my skin.

  “The vampire who murdered my family was a particularly evil rogue vampire,” Sofía says. I feel her gaze on me, but I don’t look up to meet it. “And I don’t wish to relive that moment.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Malik says firmly.

  Several seconds go by without sound. I look up, finding the two staring at each other, both waiting for the other to cave. Being an immortal, Malik has the upper hand here. He can wait forever for her to talk, and unfortunately, Sofía doesn’t have that kind of time. Soon, she must realize that, because she exhales sharply, breaking their staring contest and forfeiting the title of champion.

  “My coven was attacked by several vampires,” Sofía begins. “At the time, I didn’t know there was a distinction between the different kinds. I thought you were all monsters.”

  Malik nods his understanding. This is probably the start to every story ever told by a witch who now befriends vampires. Witches were all raised to think the same thing: vampires are evil. Simple as that. So determined in our mission to please our elders, we never thought to stop and ask if what we were doing was right.

  “We were preparing for a ritual when they attacked,” Sofía says, her story mirroring my own in such a horrific way. “That’s the only reason we were all there. He picked the perfect moment to attack us. Any other time, I would still have family back home.”

  I nod, gnawing on my lower lip, desperate for her to continue. She glances at me briefly before returning her sights on Malik. I wonder if she knows my story. Does she know how Jasik saved my life, how he turned me into the one thing I feared most in the world?

  “We fought. Everyone died. End of story,” Sofía says.

  “Hardly,” Hikari says, finally speaking. “Not everyone died that day.”

  Hikari is standing in the doorway to the parlor, where we are all sitting and listening to Sofía recount the worst moment of her life. Although Hikari’s stature is small, she still imposes superior strength, a formidable figure. Leaning against the doorframe with her head held high, she swirls a dagger in her hand, the easy effort of an expert killer. But strangely, Sofía appears to be unimpressed.

  “I nearly died too, but a vampire saved me,” Sofía adds. “That’s when I learned that not all vampires are the same.”

  I glance at Jasik, who appears to be as shocked as I am. Her story mirrors our own so much it is almost offensive. Is she playing games with us? She must know how I was turned, and she is using my story to rattle us all. Unfortunately, it’s working.

  “But this vampire didn’t turn you?” Hikari asks, disbelieving.

  Sofía shakes her head. “He offered me blood to heal my wounds, but I refused. So he took me to our local hospital and left me on the steps. The staff found me bleeding out.”

  “And what about the vampire?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I never saw him again, but on the way to the hospital, he explained that not all vampires want this war. I didn’t believe him then, but I do now. If he were lying, he wouldn’t have brought me to the one place I would find help.”

  “This sounds like a fairly fantastical tale,” Malik says. “Why should we believe it’s true?”

  Sofía narrows her eyes as she shifts in her seat, sitting upright. She swipes her braided hair over her shoulder and angles her neck. Carefully, she pulls her shirt down, exposing her skin—her tan, marked skin. Two puncture marks decorate the flesh there, pink and puffy but slowly healing. Based on these wounds, the timeline matches.

  “The doctors stitched it up, and I told them I fell on a barbecue fork.”

  Hikari snorts. “They believed that?”

  “Humans find it easier to believe outlandish stories than to agree that magic exists,” I say.

  Hikari rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

  Hikari’s anger and distrust is rightfully placed, and I know she isn’t upset with Jasik or me, even if we are the ones who brought Sofía here. I sense her uneasiness, her desire to get rid of Sofía once and for all. That would make things a lot easier, but I doubt Malik would ever go for that plan. The thought that I am even considering it makes me queasy.

  “What happened to the rogues who attacked your coven?” Malik asks. “Did the hunter kill them?”

  “Hunter?” Sofía asks. “You mean the vampire who saved me?”

  “Yes. Did he kill the rogues?” Malik asks.

  She nods. “Most of them. The others fled.”

  “What about the rogue who bit you?” I ask.

  “Coward,” she spat. “He got away. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about that moment, when he
…” She clears her throat, eyes glossy. “I’ve been hunting him ever since.”

  “Do you remember what he looks like?” Malik asks, ignoring her distress.

  She nods. “Of course.”

  “Describe him,” I demand, voice breathy, desperate. I lean forward, hands clasped in front of me, elbows resting on my thighs. I need to know if we’re hunting the same man.

  “He, uh… He had no hair. Bald or shaved, I don’t know. But I remember how smooth his skin was, like he did that on purpose, to make it harder to fight him. His skin was shiny and slick. I remember at one point, I tried to twist around, to escape his grasp, but his skin was dewy, and I just…couldn’t.”

  “What else?” I ask. “Do you remember anything about his appearance?”

  “He had a crooked nose and a lot of scars. I remember that vividly because I have never seen a vampire with scars. I thought that was impossible. Aren’t you guys supposed to be fast healers?”

  “Only if the wounds were sustained after his transition,” I clarify. “If they happened before, the scars would remain.”

  She nods. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

  “Anything else?” Malik asks. “Anything that might be particularly useful.”

  I don’t miss the note of irritation in his voice, but Sofía seems oblivious. Or she just doesn’t care if she’s irritating a house full of vampires.

  “He was tall, strong. His eyes were lifeless, just empty pits. Nothing was there. No emotion. No nothing. Just a monster in a shell. He wasn’t anything like the vampires I faced before him.”

  “So you have hunted vampires?” Jeremiah asks.

  “Of course. I am a witch. Hunting vampires is, like, my job.”

  The room chills at her words. True, hunting vampires is her job, but I think we’re all hoping she has either retired or plans to rewrite her job description to clarify that she hunts rogues only. She hasn’t attacked us yet, but I still don’t trust her. I share Hikari’s annoyance at this intruder, but I plan to be less obvious about it. After all, Sofía has something I need: information.