Atonement

by Tanith Frost

  I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him to small, deep motions that stoke the fires within me again. He leans forward and grips the edges of the table on either side of me, and I have no choice but to meet his gaze.

  His hazel eyes, rimmed with dark lashes and shadowed by heavy brows, are as cold as they’ve always been. But his shield slips as I allow him to move more, and his power washes over me. It’s like watching a thunderstorm roll in from the horizon, dark clouds threatening both destruction and unimaginable beauty. The void within me responds, rising to meet his power.

  I think for a moment my heart might begin to beat, or that I might burst into flames. Instead I close my eyes and focus on the way he moves in me and against me, the brush of his lips and tongue over my skin, the pressure that’s building within me again, deeper this time. Heavier.

  Until the storm breaks, and I’m washed away.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Night falls early at this time of year. I’d normally embrace it, but after spending a peaceful day resting with Daniel and checking on the old ones, I’m not ready to face the real world again. In a weird way this church has become a sanctuary for us. But we can’t stay forever. We need to eat.

  And that means making our way back to town to see whether our stock have scattered after the attack.

  “I could get a car running, maybe,” Edwin offers when we’re all gathered in the sanctuary. “If it’s old enough, I mean. I guess things have probably changed a little.”

  “Just a bit,” Daniel says. “We’ll keep our eyes open for that, and any other opportunities. People might leave cars unlocked around here, but I doubt we’ll be lucky enough to find keys in them. Any other ideas?”

  I watch him carefully. He’s considering something, I know he is. I’m just not sure what.

  “If we move at top speed on foot every night, we’ll make it before we starve,” Genevieve offers. “Probably.”

  Trent nods. “Or perhaps we wait for things to calm down in town before we return. Go back to the old ways, find some isolated people to feed on, cover our tracks. Feed at night, leave them wondering whether it was a dream.”

  My stomach tightens. “And if things should go wrong and we have to kill them to keep them quiet?”

  Edwin has been watching the pigeons roosting in the rafters, but now he turns toward me, his expression hardening. “Even if we don’t all agree with them, the rules exist for good reason. But if it comes down to us or a few of them…” He shrugs. “Survival of the fittest.”

  My memory flashes back to the innocent victims of rogue vampires, humans who were completely unequipped to save themselves, unaware that the threat existed. It may be the way of nature, predator and prey, but we’re not part of the natural world anymore. It still feels wrong to me, on a level far deeper than the need to keep our world secret.

  Hannabelle sits on the steps, twisting the cuffs of her dress sleeves in her hands. “We’d go mad before we starved,” she says softly. “Believe me. We either feed in a controlled, careful way, or we lose ourselves in our hunger and spoil everything.”

  Lucille squeezes her friend’s shoulder, and Hannabelle rests her hand on Lucille’s.

  “Right.” I pace up and down the aisle. My ankle is fine now, strong as it’s ever been. And though I’m hungry enough that this talk of feeding has me craving blood, I’m still thinking clearly. Silas’ fire is sustaining me, though for now I’m still able to maintain my tight control over it. I don’t know what will happen if I lose that.

  “So we start walking, look for a car, and hope the others are taking care of the Blood Defenders in the meantime,” I say, sounding more confident in the plan than I feel.

  “I wish I had my fucking phone,” says Daniel, and sighs.

  The church was cold enough to be uncomfortable, but the night air is downright frigid as we open the door. Wind rustles the long grass around the church, lending an eerie chill to the atmosphere in spite of the comforting glow of moonlight that washes over everything. Daniel leaves first, moving as cautiously as I did when I entered the building, tense and braced for a fight.

  “Stay close,” he tells us without looking back. He’s got his eyes on the grass, the distant trees, the roof of the church itself. “If we’re in Helena’s territory, we’re not dealing with incompetent hunters like that idiot that attacked your home. She’s quiet, she’s brilliant, and she’s ruthless.”

  That’s not so far off from how I’d describe Daniel himself at times. It’s a comforting thought. I never thought I’d appreciate the lack of fucks he has to give about morals regarding enemies, but there it is.

  We need his cold, dark heart.

  My skin crawls as we make our way down the gravel road at a quick jog. I feel like I’m being watched, but I suspect that’s paranoia. If Helena Slade knew we were here she’d have attacked in daylight, when we would likely be sleeping and would certainly be incapable of escape. They probably only risked a night attack at the home because it was the only time the elders were exposed. She won’t make that mistake again.

  “I haven’t had the creeps like this since I was alive,” I tell Daniel.

  “I know. I much prefer my enemies out in the open where I can see them. Waiting for an attack that may not come is—”

  The stake hits him in the upper arm before I process the sound of whatever mechanism shot it. He snarls and staggers, eyes wide as he searches the trees to our right.

  “Take them and go,” he orders as he rips the splintered wood from his flesh, leaving a gaping wound. He turns toward a decrepit outbuilding, ready to fight. A dark shape on top moves beyond the roofline.

  I want to argue, but there’s no time.

  “Go,” I tell the others.

  “The hell we will,” Trent growls, and starts forward.

  I step in front of him. “Please. Miranda asked us to keep you safe.” I turn to Daniel. “You come, too. We need you.”

  He bares his fangs, clearly enraged at the loss of his opportunity to hunt, but he brings up the rear as we race away from the threat.

  I don’t check over my shoulder to make sure he doesn’t change his mind. He’ll do what he needs to do.

  “Wait,” Edwin hollers, and slides to a stop. He sniffs the wind. “They won’t be out alone, and they could be anywhere.”

  We stagger to a halt. “Shelter?” I ask Lucille.

  She presses her lips together and closes her eyes, then shakes her head. “I can’t get anything.”

  Trent squeezes her shoulder. “It will be fine.”

  “Of course.” She forces a smile. “Just fine.”

  We move more cautiously. Edwin circles the group like a sheepdog herding us to safety, though we’re all on high alert. The air is thick with dark power. I don’t know everyone’s gifts, but I trust we’re all using our senses and talents in the best way we can. Every noise slows our steps, from the snap of a branch in the trees to the honk of a car horn on the distant highway, as we try to locate the threat. When I glance over my shoulder, the little building that sheltered our enemy is quiet and still.

  But I catch movement behind us. I can’t smell them, can’t sense anything, but someone is there, and within shooting range.

  “Faster,” I whisper, and take the lead, putting the enemy behind us.

  We break into a run again.

  It burns me, this feeling of being hunted. I’ve felt many things since I died, but I’ve never felt threatened by humans. Vampires, yes. Werewolves, absolutely. But the idea of our prey arming themselves and hunting us…

  We’re not exactly blameless, of course, but innocence is a relative term. Their slates are likely no cleaner than ours at this point.

  Another shot. Not from behind us, but to our left. The bolt of sharpened wood whizzes past my face, nearly taking the end of my nose off. Daniel has already passed me, but he turns and runs back, searching for the enemy.

  Another shot, this one aimed at the front of the group. Genevieve deflects the fl
ying stake with her hard suitcase, protecting Trent from a shot that might have hit him in the throat.

  Lucille cries out behind me and lands with a thud on the road.

  “Fuck.” I run back and drop to the ground beside her, then roll her onto her back.

  “Fuck,” I whisper again, and grind my teeth together to keep from screaming.

  “Is it bad?” She touches the point of the wooden stake protruding from her chest.

  The bastards shot her in the back.

  I take a deep breath. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks.”

  Tears sparkle in her eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, dear, but I do appreciate it.”

  Trent looms over us. “Stand aside, Aviva.” His voice carries the full weight of his age and power, and I don’t dare disobey. He hands me the canvas tool bag he’s been carrying and scoops Lucille up, cradling her gently in his arms. “Don’t you leave us,” he says gruffly, and races to catch up with the others.

  I bring up the rear, waiting to feel a stake piercing my own back.

  I wonder whether it will hurt, or whether shock will settle in as quickly as it did the first time I died.

  We pass a few trees and reach one of the massive boulders that dot the landscape, left behind by glaciers long before our time. It’s not much, as shelter goes, but it cuts the wind and protects us on one side.

  Edwin meets Trent’s gaze, and Trent shakes his head. Edwin pulls his lips back from his teeth in a snarl so feral I expect him to let out a howl. He remains silent, but climbs the rock almost to the top and crouches, taking watch.

  My cheeks have grown colder. I’m crying already.

  I look to Daniel, who’s pacing, watching for the approach of enemies. He’s removed his button-down shirt and tied it tight around his wound, but he doesn’t seem to feel the cold as he moves around in a thin t-shirt. He’s lost to us for the moment, absorbed in this bastardization of his calling.

  Hunted. Retreating.

  Hannabelle sits cross-legged with her back against the rock. Trent sets Lucille down in the grass, resting her head on Hannabelle’s lap, and smooths her tangled hair gently back from her forehead.

  Her back arches and her lips flare as though a wave of unimaginable pain is coursing through her. Genevieve sets her suitcase down and takes one of Lucille’s hands. She grimaces as Lucille squeezes tight.

  When Lucille stills, Hannabelle bends to kiss her friend’s forehead. “Thank you for making the past five decades more than tolerable.”

  Lucille shudders, but smiles thinly at her. The colour is draining from her. Her bright blonde hair shifts to grey, then white. Deep lines appear on her face, and her midnight eyes fade to the pale blue of forget-me-nots.

  She raises a gnarled and twisted hand toward Trent, and he crouches beside her as Genevieve releases her and climbs the rock to join Edwin.

  “It’s been a pleasure,” Lucille whispers, and her voice sounds like the whisper of the wind through the grass, faint and eerie. Her eyes focus on his face with startling clarity. “You shouldn’t have stayed. But I’m glad you did.”

  He’s trying to smile, but the corners of his mouth force themselves downward, and his chin trembles. “It has been an honour. I will miss you for as long as I exist, Lucy.”

  She closes her eyes. “Stay for as long as you can. They still need you.”

  My heart feels like a stone pulling me downward as he leans in and kisses her forehead.

  This is why he’s stayed locked away. Not for his hatred of the clan system and our modern society, but for her.

  Lucille smiles softly, then crumbles before our eyes. I want to look away, but I can’t. Cold horror fills me as she disappears. In less than a minute, even the dust is gone. Her dress lies on the ground, abandoned. It’s like she never existed at all.

  My muscles tremble as I fight the urge to run away.

  This isn’t like a human death. I feel no peace, no relief that her brief suffering is over. No hope that she’s gone to a better place, that maybe she’s somehow watching over us.

  She’s just… gone.

  It seems selfish, but I can’t help thinking about this happening to me. Or to Daniel. Wherever our paths might lead us, whatever happens along the way, this is all that waits at the end.

  Trent rests his face in his hands for a moment, then stands and straightens his tie. He looks back toward the field where we left the hunters, then nods, seemingly to himself. “I’m not going back to town.”

  Daniel shakes his head. “You have to. I need you to escort the others. Aviva and I will stay and take care of the hunters. You four go on. You can find your way without Lucille.” He glances up at Edwin and Genevieve, who are still focused on watching for the hunters. “I’m willing to trust you all to stay in line.”

  Hannabelle stands and brushes the grass off the back of her skirt, then wipes a thumb under both eyes, drying her tears. She motions for Edwin, Trent, and Genevieve to come closer, and they huddle together with their backs to us. Their discussion doesn’t take long.

  Hannabelle returns with gentle steps, but when she speaks, it’s with a firm voice. “We’ll be putting our feet down now, youngsters. We understand that you have a job to do, that you’re supposed to protect us.” She looks to Trent, who stands still as a statue, daring us to defy them. “But while you’ve lost one of your charges tonight and have every right to be angry, we’ve lost family.”

  Edwin kisses his fingertips and presses them to the ground where Lucille disappeared. “We’ve been running and hiding for too long. It doesn’t work. It’s time we face the world and fight.”

  Daniel looks up at the stars as though pleading for guidance. “You know that Miranda would have me drawn and quartered.”

  Trent glowers at him. “We’re going after these Blood Defenders before they can escape or kill us, and it’s up to you two whether you come along. Miranda can take it up with me if she has a problem with it.”

  “If we survive,” Edwin adds, and we all glare at him. “What? The odds of—”

  “Enough,” I tell him. “Daniel may outrank me, but you’re my responsibility, and this is my decision.”

  I bend and pick up the stake that killed Lucille, holding it in both hands. Solid wood, finely carved. The end is bent from the impact, but the blood that coated it a few minutes ago has disappeared.

  I remember Miranda’s enraged scream as she took a hunter’s life. I finally understand her fury. They’ve stolen something irreplaceable.

  Lucille deserved this less than any of us. They attacked us, burned her home, and shot her in the back. For what? For what she was?

  What we all are?

  Cold rage fills me. My mind wants to drift toward fear in the knowledge that turning on our hunters will put me in danger, but I don’t let it. Edwin is right. I’ve been hesitant and afraid for too long, ashamed of what I am and too uncertain of my purpose to make a stand when our enemies attacked us.

  I tighten my grip on the thick wood until it snaps.

  Viktor wants us to sit and wait for the hunters to come for us.

  Viktor can shove his plans and his fake, oily smiles up his ass.

  I’m done watching my steps, watching my mouth, and watching myself slip away as I try to be what the elders want me to be. And I’m done running from my problems.

  I’m going to put an end to these Blood Defenders, and I’ll take all the help I can get.

  I look to the others and nod. “Let’s go, then.”

  The Blood Defenders believe they’ve turned the tables on us. They’re about to find out just how dangerous cornered predators can be.

  Chapter Seventeen

  We wait, listening, sensing what we can, preparing ourselves to fight. But if the Blood Defenders are still out there, they’re taking their time about attacking.

  “You didn’t see anything up there?” I ask Edwin and Genevieve.

  “No,” Genevieve says. “They must have been gone by the time we found shelter.�
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  Daniel frowns. “They attacked us. Why would they retreat?”

  Trent picks up the pieces of the stake. “Maybe they didn’t have quite the advantage we assumed. Where did the shots come from?”

  “The shed to the west,” I say. “Then ahead of us as we were running away from it, then behind.”

  “So there were at least two of them, even if they moved quickly,” he muses. There’s something comforting about the deep rumble of his voice. Whatever just passed between him and Lucille, there’s no emotion in it now. If he’s angry, he’s set it aside in favour of rational thought and planning.

  I could take a lesson or two from the old guy.

  Daniel and I exchange a look. I wonder whether that’s a bad habit. We need to include everyone now, but we’re still made up of two teams. Their family, and our weird partnership built over training, trauma and… whatever it is we have.

  “There was no larger attack that would indicate a bigger group,” I say, thinking out loud. My stomach sinks. “We should have stood our ground.”

  Trent shakes his head. “Don’t forget their weapons. They had the advantage in the first moments of the attack, however small their numbers. Were we a human army willing to sacrifice a portion of our numbers in order to advance, we’d have done well to fight. Flight was reasonable, given what we knew.” His voice catches toward the end, but when he looks up, he’s all cold calculation and dark determination. “They’ve likely retreated and taken shelter while awaiting assistance.”

  Daniel turns to Hannabelle. “Thoughts?”

  “Not yet,” she says. “I know I want them dead. I want them to suffer.” Her voice sends chills down my spine. It’s gone flat. There should be some comfort in the fact that she seems to have overcome her resistance to fighting back, but she seems like she’s retreated into herself. She keeps looking down at Lucille’s dress as though she’s waiting for her friend to return.