ShatterStar

by Krista Rose

  “Are you insane, Chanach? The harvest season begins in three days! Are you trying to bankrupt us?”

  I ignored the muffled voices coming through the window behind me; it was an old argument, and one I had no interest in. I stared up at heavy, gathering clouds above Rose Manor, the wind blowing wildly across the cultivated front lawn, and worried. Vitric and Elias stood on either side of me, their faces grim.

  “You think she’ll attack tonight?” Vitric murmured as the argument escalated behind us.

  I shrugged. “She hasn’t missed an opportunity yet.”

  “When do you think Tanner will get back?” Elias asked, his brows furrowing. The sky darkened, and rumbled ominously. “Do you think he’s found it yet?”

  “Felice’s soul?” I snorted, and glanced at him. “You don’t actually believe he’ll find it, do you?”

  “I’m trying to be an optimist.”

  “Optimism is the leading cause of death among males our age,” Vitric informed him dryly. “Stick to pessimism. Worst-case scenario.”

  “We’re all going to die? How is that better?”

  “Because then if we aren’t, we’ll all be pleasantly surprised.”

  I rolled my eyes, and glanced over my shoulder at my ancestral home. After my cousin’s brutal murder of her parents and brothers, my Great-Aunt had insisted on moving the rest of my considerable family to the Manor. The main hall looked like a refugee camp-turned-fortress, with bedrolls scattered across the floor and weapons stacked by the doors. Every window had been boarded up, and the doors had been braced with thick beams.

  Behind us, several of my cousins were clustered by the Manor’s front doors, wearing ill-fitting armor and whispering to each other nervously. I wondered bleakly how many of them Felice would kill before the month was out.

  A tall, bearded man stalked out of the Manor, his thick brows drawn together in a scowl. He looked enough like my father to make my heart clutch in my chest, remembered fear swimming in my blood.

  Then he looked at me, his eyes concerned rather than cruel, and the moment passed. He walked over to us. “Brannyn.”

  “Uncle Mychael.”

  He peered up at the clouds, frowning. “Doesn’t look good, does it?”

  “Elias is trying to be optimistic.”

  Mychael raised a brow. “Is he? Shame on you, Elias. I thought the family taught you better than that.”

  Elias choked.

  Mychael covered his eyes against the wind, peering out into the dark. “I’m glad Chanach assigned you here for tonight. I’d rather have someone I trust here to help deal with these monsters. Most of the other guards he assigns look terrified. Makes me want to send them home.”

  “Maybe we’re terrified,” Elias said hopefully.

  “You live here.”

  “Good point.”

  “Who are we still waiting for?” I asked, staring down the long dirt road leading to the Manor.

  “Brycen and his family.”

  I tried to remember the name among the dozens of cousins I had met. “The blond one, right? With the scar?”

  “Yes. He’s got three small children, and they live on one of the furthest farms. He’s the only one who’s missing.”

  I rolled my shoulders, uneasy. “You think he’ll be here soon?”

  “I hope so.”

  “There’s a chance the Vampyres might attack Fallor instead,” Vitric reminded him.

  He shook his head. “All the family is gathered here tonight. If Felice attacks, it will be here.”

  “What exactly happened to her?” Vitric asked, curious. “I understand she’s a Vampyre and all, but everything I’ve read about them says they attack out of convenience and hunger, not hatred. This-” He gestured to the Manor “-seems excessive.”

  Mychael sighed, shame crossing his features. “My cousin Farius was abusing her. She found a way to make it end.”

  “And now she wants to kill you? All of you?”

  “We didn’t notice.”

  Vitric stared at him, appalled.

  “Felice never said anything,” Elias said quietly. “She bottled it up.”

  Vitric shook his head. “That’s-” His face twisted, and I knew he was thinking of Kryssa. I should have saved her.

  “Felice made a choice to do this,” I reminded them. “What Farius did was wrong, but that doesn’t make what she’s doing now right.”

  “We weren’t defending her, Brannyn,” Mychael said softly.

  “No, but blaming yourselves for something that’s not your fault is almost the same thing. She chose to turn to the Elder Gods, instead of coming to Amandine, or even going to the Guard. You didn’t choose it for her.” I thought of my pretty cousin, and the sad, lost look in Tanner’s eyes when he spoke of her. “She chose to hurt everyone else the way she has been hurt. Don’t take her choices on yourselves.”

  “That’s a lot easier said than done, you know.”

  I shrugged.

  The sky was black and purpling, like a bruise. The wind rose to a shriek as it clawed at our clothes, and thick raindrops began to hammer against us. The clouds opened; the rain began to pour. Far down the road, I could see the shape of a wagon turning in toward the Manor.

  And glowing white eyes appeared in the dark.

  Even I took a step back in sudden terror, icy fingers of it splintering down my back. The eyes of a Vampyre could paralyze its victims with fear, freezing them in place so it could feed. Memories of my brother’s wound rose up around me like ghosts, and even beneath the rain I could smell the rot of death.

  “Vampyre!” Vitric shouted, at the same time Mychael yelled, “Brycen!”

  The Vampyre was between us and the wagon; even as we ran to help, I knew we wouldn’t get there in time. The rain stung my eyes and skin, half-blinding me as the dirt road turned to slogging mud beneath my feet. I pushed more strength into my legs, willing myself to run faster, my hands already brilliant with blue flames.

  A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and for a moment I saw everything in perfect clarity: the rotting face of the Vampyre as it tried to claw its way up the side of the wagon; my cousin Brycen struggling to defend himself with a sword he didn’t know how to use; his wife Marni cowering in the back of the wagon, clutching at the three small children who peered out with curious eyes at the attacking monster.

  I shouted something, and threw my fire.

  The Vampyre turned, and the flames struck it in the chest. It shrieked, a painful, inhuman sound, before the fire consumed it, leaving nothing but wet ashes and a charred mark on the ground.

  Brycen lowered his sword gratefully. “Thank the gods, I thought that thing had us for sure.”

  “Quick!” Mychael pointed back toward the Manor. “We need to get inside, before-”

  Marni screamed, and we looked up in time to see another Vampyre on the far side of the wagon. It snatched one of the children, and took off at a run toward the woods that bordered the Manor.

  “HAIDEE!” Brycen tried to throw himself from the cart, but Vitric and I were already running after it. We could hear Mychael behind us, shouting for Brycen to get the rest of his family inside and let us deal with the monster.

  Haidee stared at us over the Vampyres shoulder as it ran, her pudgy face trapped in an expression of terror. She was only three or four years old, and unable to understand what was happening.

  I couldn’t allow her to become the Vampyre’s next meal.

  But the creature was running too fast for us to catch up. I estimated we had moments before it vanished into the woods, and my little cousin was lost for good.

  “I’m going to cut it off,” I shouted to Vitric. “You have a shot?”

  He had unslung his bow and notched an arrow, the string already drawn taught. “Just give me an opening.”

  I nodded, and summoned the gleeful flames inside of me, fed them my anger at the monsters that had terrorized my family. I poured in my fear for Haidee, my hatred over what had been done t
o Reyce, my agony for Felice. The flames spiked inside me, burning through my skin, pleading for release.

  I looked past the Vampyre at the woods, and threw out my hand. “Burn.”

  The woods in front of the Vampyre erupted, blue flames arcing toward the sky despite the rain. The ground pulsed with red heat; even from the distance I could feel it roll over me, chasing away the chill of the storm.

  The Vampyre stopped in its tracks, then turned toward us, snarling.

  Vitric raised his bow and fired. The arrow slammed into the creature’s face, right between its glowing eyes. Their light went dim, and it crumpled to the ground, blackish blood draining from the wound. The woods continued to burn, casting sharp shadows across the ground.

  Haidee began to cry, her voice shrill and frightened beneath another roll of thunder. I made certain my hands were completely out and cool before walking over to pick her up.

  “Brannyn.” Vitric’s voice was tight, and I turned to see him pointing across the lawn, toward the other side of the road.

  Dozens of glowing white eyes had appeared in the dark.

  “Run!” I shouted to him, and clutched Haidee to my chest as I sprinted for the Manor.

  Lightning forked across the sky, thunder boomed loud enough to deafen us. The grass was slick from the rain, tangling my feet and trying to trip me. The rain sliced into my face, already cold and numb as we rushed away from the fire I had created. I could almost feel the rotten breath of the Vampyres on my neck, my back tingling as I imagined jagged fingers sinking into it.

  It took everything in me to control my fire, so that I did not set my little cousin aflame.

  Elias stood at the front door, shouting for us to hurry, urging us inside. We rushed past him, and he slammed the doors closed, dropping a bar across them before following us at a run to the main hall.

  We burst inside, and Mychael shut the doors behind us. Several men raced to place heavy beams across them as Vitric and I doubled over, trying to catch our breath. Haidee wriggled out of my arms and ran to her mother.

  We looked at each other.

  “Well,” Elias managed, “that was easy.”

  “That wasn’t anything.” The hair on the back of my neck was rising; flames kept dancing down my fingers when I wasn’t paying attention. “They haven’t even begun.”

  “I really wish someone else around here would be positive,” he complained. “It’s hard work being the only one that sees the bright side of things.”

  “Hush,” Mychael said, his head cocked to listen.

  We quieted, holding our breath. Haidee began to cry, and Marni and Brycen hurried to soothe her. My heart pounded against my chest. The silence stretched out, deafening me.

  Somewhere further in the Manor, glass shattered. Something screamed in triumph.

  “They’re in the east hall,” Mychael said grimly.

  Something began pounding against the doors, and a shrieking noise echoed in my ears, scraping against my mind like fingernails. More glass shattered, and I could hear the sound of running feet and things being broken as Vampyres clawed at the doors, trying to get inside. The stench of death wafted through the cracks.

  Vitric leaned toward me. “Think they’ll get through?”

  I swallowed. “I hope not.” Then I looked around at the terrified faces of my family, and straightened my shoulders. “No. They won’t get through.”

  “Now who’s being the optimist?” Elias muttered.

  I gave him a tight smile, and then we settled in to wait out the Vampyres.

  VITRIC

  25 Davael 578A.F.

  The storm abated somewhere around midnight, and the banging and shrieking stopped shortly after, but we still waited until dawn before unbarring the doors. Mychael assigned us in pairs to sweep the Manor for any Vampyres that might have remained behind. Brannyn and I were assigned to the cellars, and we traversed the ruined hallways of the Manor, staring in dismay and exhaustion at the damage the Vampyres had caused. Every window was broken. Water drenched curtains and rugs and priceless tapestries. Anything fragile- vases, mirrors, chairs, tables- had been smashed, and large gouges had been ripped out of the walls by inhuman hands.

  The kitchen was in the same state. Bags of flour had been ripped apart, and jars of beans and rice lay shattered on the floor. Tomatoes had been splattered against the walls, and someone had stabbed knives into the table in a garish resemblance of a smile.

  We made our way past it to the stairs and descended cautiously, unsure what we would find.

  The cellar was dark, only a single, high window to allow in the weak morning sunlight. I peered into the shadows, my mouth dry with dread. I promised myself that if I made it out of Fallor alive, I would never again make fun of my sister Vanice for her fear of the dark.

  Glowing white eyes appeared in the darkest of the shadows, and Brannyn stepped back away from it, into the shaft of sunlight. I crowded next to him, sheathing my sword to unsling my bow.

  “Hello, Brannyn.” A light female voice slithered out of the shadows. “So nice to see you again. And you brought a friend.”

  I notched an arrow, aiming it at the eyes.

  Brannyn raised a hand to stop me. “What do you want, Felice?”

  “Oh, you know, the same things everyone wants. Love. Acceptance. The death of my entire family.”

  “If you’re trying to terrify them, you’re succeeding.”

  “Good.” I could almost hear her smile in the dark. “They’re learning.”

  “You know you can stop this, Felice. You don’t have to hurt them. They’re already heartbroken about what Farius did. They want-”

  “I don’t care what they want!” she shrieked, and her eyes moved closer. “Why doesn’t anyone understand that?”

  A faint outline of her face emerged from the shadows, and I was surprised to see she was remarkably pretty, despite two months of being without a soul. Brannyn had described her as ragged the last time he had seen her, but I saw no evidence of that now. Her blonde hair was clean and brushed, her dress elegant and lovely. Black jewels hung from her throat and ears.

  Brannyn frowned. “Where’d you get that dress?”

  “Do you like it?” She preened, her lips twisting into a smile. “It’s the perfect dress for murdering my hateful little family, don’t you think?”

  Her eyes were overly bright, and my breath began to back up in my lungs. Brannyn nudged me, breaking the spell, and I drew a long, shuddering breath as I looked away.

  “Tanner hasn’t given up on you.” His voice was quiet. “He still loves you.”

  “No one loves me.” She laughed, but the light in her eyes flickered and dimmed. “And if Tanner loved me, then why do you have a new partner? Why isn’t he here, telling me himself?”

  “Tanner is-” Brannyn hesitated, obviously unsure how much to tell this monster that had once been his cousin. “Tanner’s trying to find a way to save you.”

  “No one can save me.”

  “That’s not going to stop Tanner from trying. He’s more stubborn than you any day.”

  My heart ached. I finally understood why Brannyn and Elias held out hope that Tanner would succeed. I could almost imagine the girl in the shadows was Kryssa- alone, hurting, terrified.

  Of course, Kryssa would never turn to the Elder Gods to solve her problems. She would just have her brother blow them up instead.

  “I-” Felice’s face looked torn for a moment, the light almost completely fading from her eyes. She looked at Brannyn, afraid. “I don’t want to be saved,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Brannyn told her patiently. “You do.”

  “What do you know?” The light flared in her eyes, and she jerked back into the shadows. “How could you possibly think I want to be saved? I’m more powerful now than any man! I can rip you apart with my bare hands! Even the gods tremble before me now! Why would I want to give that up? What would make you think I want to be saved?”

  “Because,” Brannyn pointed o
ut, “you could have killed us the moment we came down the stairs, and you didn’t. You’re talking to us instead.”

  There was a moment of silence, then a long drawn out hiss. “It doesn’t matter. Soon Eoct will take his throne, and you will all be dead anyway. But I- I will be a queen. I will live forever. And no one will ever hurt me again.”

  “Who’s Eoct?” I asked, frowning.

  Her eyes vanished. Long moments passed, and I realized the room felt empty, her presence gone. I glanced at Brannyn frowning.

  He stepped cauiously out of our patch of sunlight, walking forward to examine the darkness where she had been. I raised my bow, prepared to shoot at anything that even so much as glimmered.

  “She’s gone,” he called. “There’s a hole back here where she knocked out the bricks, and a tunnel.” He sighed and straighted. “We’ll need to block it back up.”

  “You’re not going to try to go after her?”

  He snorted. “It’s pitch black in there. I’m not sure why Felice didn’t attack us when we were coming down the stairs, but I’m certainly not going to give her a second chance at killing me.”

  I shrugged, and loosened my arrow, sliding it back into its quiver. “Alright.”

  “Come on.” He sighed. “Let’s go tell Uncle Mychael the news.”

  KRYSSA

  25 Davael 578A.F.

  City of Lessas, Surak

  I do not remember much of my arrival in Lessas. The drug was too deep in my blood by then, coating my memory with patches of darkness. What I do remember is in flashes, brilliant and disorienting.

  I remember there was a lake, vast and surprising and intoxicating after a week spent in the desert, the air sweet and cool as a breeze rippled over its surface. The houses of the Lessas crowded its edges, white and square and foreign, and beyond them rose the golden spires of a palace. Harsh voices and bright colors surged through the dusty, unpaved streets; the faces surrounding me were dark and angular and frightening.

  I remember being led to a temple, far on the other side of the lake, a black stone monolith rising out of the sands like the broken skeleton of some primordial monster. The air was choked with incense, and the entrance of the temple gaped like a mouth as we were lined up before it like sacrifices waiting to be swallowed.