by Sara Hubbard
I reach the door and attempt to turn the knob, but of course, it’s locked. I slide the old metal key in the keyhole and hold my breath. A single click and it slides open. I let go of the handle while helping it along. Inside, I flick on the light switch and close the door. That glass wall is going to be a problem, a big one. But it doesn’t make me turn and run. Too much is at stake. And for once in my life, I feel like I matter, and I won’t give it up. I need to know more. Everything. But the only way to get what I need is to find out for myself. I can’t trust Alexander or Sebastian to be straight with me—not in this lifetime—even if Sebastian is proving surprising on many levels.
I hurry to the door to the lab, and it’s unlocked. Inside, there is a bunch of equipment that means nothing to me. But there is also a computer. I’m no whiz with them, but I know enough to do a search.
I turn on the monitor and find the computer is already on. No files sit on the desktop, but that’s okay. I check the document folders and easily find what I need. There is a folder with my name on it and also one for my sister. I check mine first. Inside is a graph that means nothing to me, but there is a written description below it that has my eyes open wide.
Emily Allen. Genetic match, 100% to Penelope Scott. Penelope Scott. One hundred percent? That would make us identical. Twins? Clones? Though the name would have meant nothing to me a day ago, after my conversation with Sebastian, it rings a bell. He loved a woman with the same name. And she’s identical to me. Was she the woman he loved? What connection does she have to me? I scan the description further and find nothing, just mumbo jumbo that means nothing to me. I close the document and open another. It’s a lab report with some things I recognize and some I don’t. I see the pH and just like the doctor said, my blood is well below the limits for normal, according to the normal ranges listed beside it. Huh. But nothing else is off, except for something called tellurium. What the hell is that? Whatever it is, the normal lab values beside it are between zero point one and one, and mine is forty-two. I commit that to memory so I can find out later. It has to be meaningful. I close the report and open a document called specimen twenty-six. I gasp when I see the woman’s name again. Penelope Scott, born 1604. Died in 1752? That was one old woman. I bring up her report and her pH is also low, and her tellurium is thirty-two. I bring up her lab report and mine to compare.
Now I’m more confused than ever because none of this makes any sense. I hear a slam somewhere close, and the walls seem to almost shake. I power down the computer and shut off the light, running for the exit and turn off that light too. Then I hide behind the door in case anyone comes inside so I can slip out. It’s not a great plan, and a vampire will surely hear me—if not smell me—but then, I pray it’s just the doctor.
Holding my breath, I wait silently. A staff member in black pants and a blouse walks by, her heels clicking on the tile as she marks time. She doesn’t see me hiding in the shadows, and she doesn’t come inside. Once I hear her footsteps fade to nothingness, I sneak out and make for the stairs. Within five minutes, I’m in my room with the door locked shut. I stare at the door, half expecting someone to burst inside and scream and threaten me for what I’ve discovered, but an hour later, I’m still alone, and the mansion is still quiet except for the hoot of a damn owl outside my window peering inside.
Filled with more questions, I lie down and curl into a ball while I think about what I’ve learned. Penelope Scott. I saw the name over and over. It doesn’t even feel familiar. And yet we’re the same, one hundred percent the same. And while my list of questions about who I am grows, one question is finally answered. I now know why Sebastian is so damn interested in me.
8
Sun streams in through the window behind the bed and shines down on my arms and face, waking me. After letting go of a deep yawn, I stretch out my arms and flutter open my eyes. Sebastian sits in a chair a few feet away from my head, staring at me. I gasp and jump up to a sitting position, clutching the sheets to my chest.
This stalking crap has to end.
“What are you doing?” I snap at him.
“Watching you sleep.”
“Because that’s not creepy or anything.”
He grins, his eyes alight with what feels like playfulness.
I hold up my hand to the sunbeam and watch the dust motes stir in the air. “Shouldn’t you be in a coffin somewhere, wasting the day away?”
“Coffins,” he says with a scoff. “They’re so restrictive.”
“I wonder how all these rumors get started.”
Grinning, he points to himself. “We spread a lot of rumors to confuse and give false hope.”
“Because humans are so interested in finding and slaying vampires.”
“You’d be surprised. There’s a website for believers: ashestoashes.com. We populate ninety-nine percent of the information there, just in case a human comes looking for us. I post there from time to time. I’m Nutcracker14, in case you want to friend me.” Wink, wink.
Nutcracker14? Well, I’m sure there’s a story in there somewhere, and I hope it has nothing to do with actual nuts. I chew my lip to stop myself from smiling. So the vampire can be funny. Well, what do you know? “Is all the information there bullshit?”
“There’s enough for you to trust the site, but not enough for a human to gain an advantage.”
I reach over to the nightstand and pick up the cell phone he gave me yesterday. To satisfy my building curiosity, I go the website and look for Nutcracker14. His profile image is of a wooden nutcracker doll with fangs holding a baseball bat. “Cute.” I turn the phone around, so the screen faces him.
He grins as he looks at the picture. “One of my best angles.”
“The likeness is remarkable,” I say with a smirk before pressing a button to snooze the screen. I’ll have to go through this site in detail when I have more time.
I swallow what’s left of the moisture in my mouth and cluck my tongue. I need a drink. The taste in my mouth is worse than cotton. Even from where he sits, he must think I have the worst morning breath.
“I need to get dressed.”
“Don’t mind me.”
Sigh. I kick off the sheets and pad to one of the armoires in my sock feet. The chilly hardwood sends shivers from the soles of my feet, up my legs, to settle in my back. I shiver all over and let out a brrr.
“Humans are so delicate.”
I ignore him while I root through the clothing. “Cassandra had…interesting taste.” I grab the only other T-shirt left in there: Metallica. I find a pair of leather pants and decide they’ll have to do. “Ballgowns, leather, and lace. Did she ever throw on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt?”
He chuckles quietly behind me. “She slept in floor-length satin gowns. When she’d go for a run to vent out her frustration with Alexander or me, she’d do it in heels and a cat suit. So, to answer your question, no, she never wore leggings and a sweatshirt.”
He frowns out the window, and my twisting guilt resurfaces yet again. I change the topic to feel more comfortable. With a low voice, I whisper, “Thank you for the key last night.”
He clears his throat, and the chair creaks. When I start to turn, I jump again to find him standing directly beside me. “Jesus! Don’t do that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I frown as I look up at him. He wants to keep this quiet, but he’s going to have to talk to me about the stuff I found out sooner or later. At least, he’d better. I rifle through the underwear drawer and find a bra that is surprisingly my size, small. As for the underwear, well, used underwear will not be touching my ass. I have my limits, although going panty-less in leather isn’t my idea of a good time.
I grab the clothes and head for the bathroom. I feel his cool frame at my back when I stop at the door. I turn and glare at him. Getting the hint, he takes a step back, and I grip the door and slam it shut. “Have you ever heard of personal space? Geesh. Why are you here anyway?”
; He doesn’t answer.
I change my clothes and brush my teeth after splashing soapy water on my face. I find a brush with no hair in it in a basket below the sink counter. Not a single hair. Did she use this, or do vampires not shed? Either way, I drag it through my messy, tangled curls. Then I sit down to pee, but nothing comes out. All I can focus on is him, outside the door listening to me, and I have stage fright.
“Can you not listen to me right now?”
“I don’t hear a thing.”
Right. I must sit here for ten minutes before I finally manage to relieve myself. When I open the door, he’s still standing there, grinning at me.
“Do vampires pee?” I ask. Is that a silly question? But then I remember us talking about this briefly at dinner the other night. He made it seem as if they did.
He scratches the side of his face and wipes off his grin. “Only on Thursdays.”
“You’re a jerk. It’s a valid question.”
“If we consume…beverages other than blood, then yes, it has to come out somehow.”
“So your…organs work?”
He leans in, and I swallow hard as his blue eyes sparkle. The corners of his mouth twitch. “My organs work just fine, thank you.”
I clear my throat and look away. “I’m sure they do.” Without meaning to, my eyes automatically train to the bigger-than-average bulge in his jeans. Holy hell. How big is he with an erection? My cheeks burn, and I need to escape his gaze so I attempt to push him out of the way. He humors me, because let’s face it, I would have more luck moving a boulder.
“We need to talk about those lab results,” I say as I reach the door. It’s shut, still locked from the inside. A gust of air whips my hair about my face to settle in front of my eyes. I push it aside. He’s in front of me. Again.
In a low voice, he says, “About what, in particular? I told you you’re a blood hunter. Isn’t that enough?”
With my hands on my hips, I shake my head at him in frustration. Lowering my voice—for his benefit, I say, “Then why did you give me the—” key.
He cuts me off, putting a hand over my mouth. Stunned, I’m not sure how to respond. I could push his hand away, but the warning in his eyes has me retreating. He holds up a finger to his lips, and I can’t keep the confusion from my face. He helped me last night, he’s helping me now, and I’m sure it’s because of my connection to Penelope, but what will Alexander do if he finds out he’s feeding me more information? It’s not as if he’d hurt Sebastian, his own brother. But then, maybe it’s something else. Maybe his brother doesn’t know about all of my lab results? That doesn’t make sense either. I turned on the computer, and there they were. Alexander could easily find them.
When he’s confident I’ll stay quiet, his hand lowers, his fingers lightly brushing against my lips.
“What now?” I ask softly.
“You guaranteed freedom for your sister. I’ll take you to her if you’d like to say good-bye.”
“Yes, please. I want that more than anything.” But the way he says it, it’s like I’m going to say good-bye forever. That’s not the case at all. Or is it? I never agreed to stay here after I killed the vampire. Perhaps Alexander has other plans for me. Maybe his favor will come sooner than I expect.
We don’t run into Alexander on our way out. The same big black SUV we used yesterday sits outside the mansion, and I jog down the stairs to it. In the car, Sebastian plucks aviator sunglasses from the console above his head. He slides them on and, of course, he looks like he belongs in a commercial. Every man would buy a pair if they thought they could look as good as he does.
“I thought you didn’t mind the sunlight.”
“My eyes are stronger than yours. You see sunbeams and golden light. I see a super nova.”
I didn’t see daylight while the effects of vampire blood still ran through my blood, but my new sight made the world come alive, like seeing rainbows in the night. I can’t imagine how incredible the day would look with his eyes.
I’m not sure where Alexander is or how far we need to be from him to keep our conversation private, but I wait until we reach the end of the driveway before I open my mouth. I can’t stand the suspense any longer.
“Is it safe to talk now?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“Are you going to admit you dropped me that key last night? Or are we going to keep beating around the bush?”
“You know very well I left that key.”
“Then why lie about it? Why are you lying to your brother? If you can lie and sneak around behind his back, how am I ever supposed to trust you?”
He relaxes his hands on the wheel after glancing in his rearview mirror. With one hand, he clutches the gearshift, using it as a sort of hand rest. “There are several things Alexander doesn’t know and can’t know.”
So he isn’t just feeding me more information than his brother would like him to. He’s lying to his brother. “Such as?”
Sebastian’s jaw tenses before he speaks. “That the hunter’s blood I compared yours to is the same woman I spent a considerable part of the sixteen hundreds with.”
“Penelope Scott is the woman you loved all those years ago.” A vampire and his hunter lover—I can’t even imagine how difficult that must have been for the both of them.
He glances at me, his expression thoughtful. He offers a slow nod.
“It makes sense. You’ve been kind of weird about me since I got here. I mean, Alexander doesn’t follow me around the house.”
“That you know of.”
I open my mouth and snap it shut. I hope he’s kidding. “How is it possible that I am a one hundred percent match with her DNA? She was born hundreds of years ago, so we can’t be twins. Am I a clone? Do they exist?”
“No, you’re not a clone. Not a twin. Exactly.”
I raise an eyebrow in question.
“Penelope told me she couldn’t die, that when a body fails her, she starts over in a new one. She said she never remembers who she was in her past lives, and when she died she said we’d meet again. I wanted to believe her, but hundreds of years later, I still hadn’t come across her. I thought she was mistaken until Felix came home the other day with a dying Cassandra in his arms. I hoped it was you, but I still couldn’t let myself believe it until I tested your blood.”
“You think I’m your reincarnated lost love?” I can’t hide the skepticism in my voice.
“I know you are, at least on a cellular level. Everything else...is different.”
I chew on my lip while I consider this. And I squirm a little in my seat. “Even if I’m her, I don’t have memories of her life. You’re a stranger to me. I could never feel…the way…”
He chuckles quietly. “Calm down. I’m not proposing.”
At the mention of a proposal, I can’t help gasping as I stare at his amused face.
“I put my feelings for her to rest a long time ago. I swore to her I would help her remember who she is if I found her again. That’s all I’m trying to do.”
“No. You’re also using me to kill an elder.”
“What can I say? I’m a multi-tasker.”
I snort at his attempt at humor. I don’t believe him. Not entirely. I’ve never loved a man before, but I’ve loved my family, and I don’t believe that love dies with time. If I live another four hundred years, I think I’d still feel sad when I thought of them, and it would always sting to know I could never touch them or see them again. Time might dull those feelings, but I doubt it removes them entirely. But I take his words at face value, mostly because I don’t want to deal with the idea that the vampire beside me might care for me much more than he should. Yes, he’s handsome in a sexy, primal way, but I have no interest in a relationship with a vampire—least of all this one.
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It’s unusually messy and sticks up in parts. “Listen, I cared for her, okay? I promised I’d always help h
er, no matter what. That’s all I’m trying to do here.”
“Whatever you say.”
Birds fly low overhead. The sun shines in. It’s warmer today than it has been the last few weeks, and it feels good on my face. Driving in cars always makes me sleepy. It gives me the urge to close my eyes and sleep, but my mind is too busy for that today.
“Sebastian?”
“Yes?” He taps his fingers on the wheel to the rock song quietly playing in the background.
“Tell me more about blood hunters and witches in general, every detail you can think of, no matter how small.”
We’re not far from the underground bunker now. No houses line the road, no stores, no traces of a town, just woods and random swamps.
“There are two kinds of witches: those who use spell books and potions for a purpose and those who have natural magic in their blood. There is no contest between the two. A natural witch can be powerful and a deadly match for mortals and immortals alike. You, Emily, are the natural kind.”
“I don’t understand how that can be. I have no more magic than this car.”
He turns down the pockmarked gravel path leading to the bunker. As we pass the mouth of the makeshift road, he slows the car and pulls over to the side. Branches from a nearby tree hang low, near the hood, and with a slight breeze, they wave enough to force the branches to tap the hood of the car. If he cares about this expensive car getting scratched, he doesn’t show it.
“You’re wrong. You’re one of the strongest witches I’ve ever encountered. Most have tellurium in single digits or the teens. I’ve never seen the blood of a witch register higher than a thirty-two. You beat them all.”
“Then why can’t I do magic?” But when I think about that, I’m not sure what I mean by that. Levitate objects? Set things on fire with my mind? Knock people on their asses or open locks?
