by Melinda Metz
Millie and Luis were fighting, their yelling getting louder and louder as they ran through the halls of the house in New York. Shay—Gabriel— winced at the noise. “Quiet! The neighbors will hear.”
From beside him on the sofa, Sam laughed. “There are no neighbors for a mile. It’s only your vampire hearing magnifying the noise.”
“They’re supernaturally loud,” Gabriel grumbled.
“They’re still human children,” Sam replied. “They are not as loud as you think.”
Gabriel watched as they ran into the room—Millie’s red pigtails a mess, her elfin face filled with rage as Luis held the doll out of her reach.
“Luis, give it back. It’s nearly time for Millie to go to bed,” Gabriel said.
Luis rolled his eyes, but he handed over the doll.
“It’s not fair. Why doesn’t Luis have to go to sleep?” Millie demanded.
“Because he’s ten years older than you. He gets to stay up later,” Sam told her. He glanced at Gabriel. “She reminds me of Lysander. Always wanting to be treated like the older kids.”
Gabriel didn’t answer. He couldn’t—the rush of pain he felt at the mention of Lysander was too great. The younger boy had been taken from the orphanage with him, had grown up in the vampire family with him, just as Millie and Luis were growing up together. As siblings. As family. When they were teenagers, they went through the blood ritual and became vampires, just as Millie and Luis would. They lived for more than two hundred years afterward as brothers . . . until Sander was murdered by the humans.
How can Sam talk about him so casually?
“We have a new family,” Sam said quietly. It wasn’t the communion—Sam had always been able to tell what Gabriel was thinking. “You cannot live a long life if you hold on to the pain of the past. You’re going to be here for centuries, Gabriel. Tragedies will happen. You must let them go.”
Gabriel turned away, frowning. Sam was his best friend, his brother. But sometimes he seemed like a stranger. How could he “let go” of the pain of losing their family? Gabriel never would, even if he lived for a thousand years.
“Don’t be like Ernst,” Sam said. “He’s grown more bitter with each loss—first Gret, then our family. . . .”
“Why shouldn’t he be bitter?” Gabriel cried.
“It’s going to twist him eventually. Gret always said that anger hurts more than grief.”
Gabriel just shook his head. Sam was being naive. He wanted to see the good in things, but sometimes he went too far.
“Shay—” Gabriel’s voice broke into Shay’s mind. “Stop.”
He pulled his wrist from her mouth, and Shay moaned as reality crashed back in around her. The cold air, the eerie limestone of the cave . . . but she could see more now, details of the whitish rock walls. Was it just her imagination? She was looking through her own eyes, but it felt more like one of the visions when she looked through Gabriel’s eyes.
“I need . . .” Gabriel’s voice was weak, and she studied his face. His eyes were different—not their typical dark color, but lighter, almost purple. It was beautiful. But other than that, he looked tired. Exhausted, really. She felt a stab of worry—had her blood sickened him? If she kept taking his own blood, she could weaken him too much. It might kill him. But she wanted more. She craved it. She couldn’t control herself. Shay pulled his wrist to her lips and drank.
“It’s all right,” Gabriel murmured, the purplish cast to his eyes growing even more intense. “You need enough to transform. I’ve never done it by myself.” His other hand stroked her hair for just a moment, and Shay felt a sense of warmth steal through her.
Or maybe it was the sun beating down on Gabriel as he swam in the waters off the island in Greece. Shay sank into the vision, but her own thoughts hung on longer than before. Hot sun . . . he wasn’t a vampire yet. Next to him swam Lysander, grinning widely.
“How can you be so happy?” Gabriel asked, turning to float on his back.
“I am enjoying the day, brother. Tonight I join the family!” Sander dove like a dolphin and vanished under the waves.
Lysander was in the last vision, too. They talked about him, Shay’s thought whispered from somewhere.
It was enough to interrupt the vision, and then suddenly, she was in the sleeping cave in Greece. She recognized it immediately, or rather Gabriel recognized it. They stood in a circle, the entire family, with Lysander on the floor in the middle. Ernst knelt next to the youth, drinking from his neck. He stopped and looked up. “He’s dead.”
Gabriel felt a momentary pang of fear. He wasn’t in the circle with the others, because he hadn’t given up the sun yet. He stood behind them, watching. Learning. He’d known what to expect, of course. Ernst had explained it many times. But seeing Lysander dead on the floor . . . it frightened him.
And then Sam stepped forward. He was the eldest of them—other than Ernst—and, therefore, he would take the first turn. Sam knelt at Lysander’s side and lifted the young man in his arms. He nicked a vein in his wrist and held it to Sander’s mouth. “Drink, brother,” Sam said simply.
Immediately, all of Gabriel’s fear vanished. Sam would take care of Lysander. He always took care of all the younger ones. If Ernst was their stern father, Sam was their nurturing father. Gabriel smiled. Or else Sam was their mother. He wasn’t, of course. But Sam had told him once that he tried to be as much a mother as he could, ever since Gret had sought the sun and turned to ash. Sam had grown up in the vampire family with a mother, Gret. The rest of them hadn’t. Sam thought it wasn’t fair.
He would’ve been an amazing dad, Shay thought. And she knew instantly that it was her own thought, not Gabriel’s. She was still there, in the vision. Still in Gabriel’s body, watching the blood ritual with Gabriel’s eyes and thinking Gabriel’s thoughts.
But suddenly, her own consciousness was there too. Shay, separate from Gabriel. Shay’s thoughts. Shay’s emotions.
It’s because I’m becoming a vampire, she realized. The visions have never been like this before because I have never been like this before. I’m changing. I’m drinking Gabriel’s blood as I have before, but this time it’s turning me into something else.
Sam held Lysander, letting him drink. Transforming him into a vampire.
Sam. Shay stared at him, her father. He was the one she wanted to watch. She had seen so many parts of Gabriel’s life through these visions . . . but she didn’t need to live his life to know him. She had the real Gabriel now, in her life, in her arms. He loved her, he was saving her. When they were done, she would be a vampire and they would be together forever. But Sam—she had never met him and she didn’t know if she ever would. The only way to know her father was through these visions, through Gabriel’s experiences with Sam.
I’ll follow him, she thought. I’ll focus on Sam and follow him through the visions. I’ll take control of what I see.
But nothing happened. The vision continued just as before, with Shay watching through Gabriel’s eyes as Sam gently eased Lysander’s mouth away and another member of the family took his place, guiding Sander to drink from her vein.
The blood ritual, Shay thought. It’s on Gabriel’s mind because he’s performing it right now, on me. Somehow I’m seeing visions about the blood ritual and the people Gabriel has seen go through it.
Shay summoned all the strength she had and forced her mind away from the vision and back to reality. She was feeding from Gabriel. On some level she knew that. She herself was participating in a blood ritual. She had to stop.
“Shay, keep going,” Gabriel whispered.
Shay blinked, back in her own body again. The cave surrounded them, and Gabriel slumped against the stone wall, pale and sweating. Shay frowned.
“Can you feed on your own yet? Is it working?” Gabriel asked weakly. “Your eyeteeth—can you release them?”
Shay automatically ran her tongue over her teeth, not sure what he meant.
“You have to keep going,” he breathed.
“I’m killing you. If I take more blood, you’ll be too weak.” Shay’s voice sounded strange in her ears. It was the first time she’d spoken since she died.
“I’ll recover.” Gabriel met her eyes and smiled, a ghost of his usual smile. “Vampire strength.”
Shay nodded, the movement causing the cave to spin around her. She was still weak too, maybe even half dead. What was she, exactly? A vampire? A dead girl? Something in between?
“You feed. Do it yourself,” he said. “The transformation, it takes . . . a lot.”
Shay thought of the ritual she’d seen, the whole family waiting their turn to give their blood to Lysander. Would there even be enough blood in Gabriel’s body for them both?
He leaned his head back, exposing his throat. Shay stared at it, focusing on him to stop the cave from whirling. A strange sliding sensation in her mouth caught her attention, and she used her tongue again to explore it. Fangs.
Gabriel’s smooth tawny skin seemed to draw her forward. Her fangs ached with wanting him.
Shay bent to his neck and inhaled the scent of him. Then her teeth sank into his flesh, blood flowing into her mouth, her consciousness spiraling down into another vision.
Sam, Shay thought. I want to see Sam.
“The only choice is a blood ritual,” Ernst said, his voice muffled by the still air of the cellar under the old house.
Shay frowned—Gabriel frowned. She stood in Gabriel’s body, speaking Gabriel’s words, just like always in a vision. But there was something different. A wall of tension, an undercurrent of confusion. “But if Sam were willing to give up the woman . . . ,” Gabriel began.
“I won’t. You know that better than anyone, brother,” Sam spat, his voice filled with fury. “You knew it when you told Ernst about my love for Emma.”
Gabriel refused to look at Sam, shackled to the dirt floor. But he felt Sam’s anger like a physical blow.
What is going on? Shay thought frantically. It was her own thought, not Gabriel’s, but the turmoil of Gabriel’s feelings made it hard to figure out what was happening in this strange vision. And there was something else—other emotions that came from outside of Gabriel. Anger from Sam, who lay on the ground. A cold hatred from Ernst. Fear from Millie . . . and Millie wasn’t even in the room.
“It would take more than giving her up. The human woman is a threat as long as she knows about us. We have to kill her.” Ernst sounded annoyed at the prospect, like it was an unpleasant errand he had to run.
“No.” Sam’s voice was half fury, half fear. But the emotion coming from him was suddenly an all-encompassing terror. Shay felt sick from the intensity of it—or was it Gabriel feeling sick?
I don’t understand. Shay’s own thought again, or at least she assumed so.
“Did he tell you where she is, who she is?” Ernst asked Gabriel.
“No. Just the name, Emma,” Gabriel replied.
My mother, Shay’s thought said. Mymothermymothermymother.
“During the blood ritual, when he is weakened, he will tell us how to find her,” Ernst said.
Now Gabriel felt afraid. He loved Sam, even after this betrayal of the family, he still loved Sam. “Maybe there’s a way to avoid a blood ritual,” Gabriel said desperately. “If Sam did it, if he killed her. Then we could forgive him, couldn’t we?”
Shay felt a wave of astonishment wash over her at the words that had just come out of her own mouth.
Not my mouth, she thought. Gabriel’s mouth.
She pulled away from him, jerking her fangs from his flesh, the reality of the cave crashing back in on her like a train wreck. Nausea spread through her body when Gabriel’s blood stopped sliding down her throat, and she moaned.
“Keep feeding,” he whispered. “The transformation’s not complete.”
“I felt other people’s feelings,” she said. “In the vision. Not just yours.” It was too much. Too overwhelming. Had she even seen a true vision? It had been hard to tell where Gabriel’s thoughts ended and the others began.
“It’s the communion. We feel one another’s emotions,” Gabriel said. “It’s why the whole family participates in a ritual—so that we’re all linked. But I’m the only one this time. You should only be linked to me.” His brow furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t move otherwise. He looked worn out.
“The visions are changing. Everything seems sharper, like smells and sights. And I can think my own thoughts,” Shay said, forcing herself to take a deep breath. “I felt the others’ emotions, but I think it was because you felt them. Gabriel”—she looked him in the eyes—“what happened to Sam? You told Ernst about him and my mother.”
Gabriel gasped, panic on his face. He pulled away from her, the first burst of strength he’d shown since their private blood ritual began.
“Shay. Don’t,” he said.
Shay crawled toward him, extended her fangs, and bit his throat. The blood flowed freely. She could almost feel its strength taking over her body, reaching now to each tiny capillary, to every part of her. Transforming her.
Sam, she thought.
And there he was. Her father was shackled to the ground, heavy chains driven into the dirt that made up the cellar floor of the old farmhouse. There were chains around his legs and one around his waist, and he was fighting. Writhing, panting, hysterical.
Shay gaped at him. She’d seen Sam in so many visions now, through so many years of Gabriel’s life. He had always been calm, comforting, in control.
Now he looked like a mindless animal crazed with fear.
And then his emotions hit her—hit Gabriel. Fury, hatred, terror. Gabriel turned away, unable to face his brother. The one who had been by his side for hundreds of years. The one who he himself had turned in.
Millie stood next to him, with Luis and Richard arranged so that they formed a circle around Sam. Richard’s new partner, Tamara, was there too. On Gabriel’s other side stood Ernst.
“The youngest will begin,” Ernst announced. “Then on to the next youngest, and so on. Drink only what your body can handle. The ritual will last for three nights—none of us need get sick from the poison of his blood.”
My turn comes last, except for Ernst, Gabriel thought. Their new family had been made here, in America. They were all younger than Gabriel and Sam, much younger. Even Tamara had been made a vampire little more than a century ago, or so she said.
“How can you? How can you do this?” Sam wailed, pure desperation in his voice.
Millie knelt beside him, hands shaking. Fear and doubt flowing from her in waves, she turned and gazed at Gabriel. So did Sam.
“Gabriel? I held you when you were little more than a baby,” Sam said, suddenly quiet. “I trusted you with my secret. I wanted to share my joy with you as I’ve shared my whole life with you.”
“Begin,” Ernst commanded Millie.
Her gaze stayed on Gabriel, an unspoken question in her eyes.
“He put the family in danger, Millie,” Gabriel whispered. “Begin the ritual.”
Millie nodded, eyes brimming with tears. She bent and sank her eyeteeth into Sam’s shackled wrist. He screamed, like a horse with a broken leg, like a pig at slaughter, like a madman in an asylum. Gabriel flinched, steeling himself against the onslaught of fury that shot through the communion from Sam.
Sam . . . they’re draining him, Shay thought as she watched Millie drink. One at a time, they’re going to drain him. She wanted out of this vision, she wanted back to the safety of the cave with Gabriel—Gabriel, who loved her; Gabriel, who was saving her.
“Gabriel, how can you do this?” Sam asked, panting and panicked as Millie drank.
“You saw our family slaughtered in Greece. Humans did that,” Gabriel said, choking on the words. “Yet you revealed our secret to one.”
“To one I love,” Sam cried, anguished. “How can you punish me for love? When your turn comes, will you really do this, brother?” His eyes burned into Gabriel as his terror seeped through t
he communion. “Will you kill me?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said. “I will.”
Shay tore her fangs from Gabriel’s vein, rending his flesh. The cave around them was bright as day, and she could smell each individual bat hibernating above. She could hear their slow heartbeats and the drip of water somewhere far away, and she could see each crag of rock and each grain of dirt between them. She felt the strength in her arms, her legs, her lungs, her heart . . . in every cell of her body.
The sick girl was gone.
Shay was a vampire now.
Gabriel lay on the rock shelf, pale and feeble, his breathing fast, his eyes wide with horror. “Shay . . .”
I’ve drained him. My blood made him sick, and then I drained him almost dry, she thought. He’s weak. And I’m strong.
“Shay. What did you see?” Gabriel whispered.
“I saw you,” she told him. “You murdered my father.”
CHAPTER
SEVEN
LICHEN. STAGNANT WATER. Bat dung.
Shay doubled over, feeling sick. The caves swam around her, endless and dank, one after another after another.
A drop of water, moisture from the roof falling to the floor. A single drop.
“It’s too much,” she moaned, pressing her hands to her ears. That one drip might have been a mile away, but she’d heard it as if it were right next to her head. She heard the breathing of the bats that slept above her, heard each individual heartbeat, heard the barest whisper of wind making its way though the labyrinth of caves.
And the smells. Every scent of this strange, underground world came to her as its own thing. It wasn’t just a stuffy, dank, bad scent. It was a bat, a rat, a decomposing fish in a dark stream. It was water, and air that had been inside for too long, and rock. Who knew that rocks had a smell?
