by Rye Brewer
I hadn’t told anyone in so long. Much too long. I needed her to know, just the same. When she did, she might understand better why it was impossible for me to see her as anything but a vampire.
“Four hundred years ago. It started four hundred years ago.” I stared at the wall across from me, already lost. I remembered those days so clearly, as though I was still there. Part of me was, I supposed. Back there with her. “My sister was a clever witch with endless potential.”
“Sirene?” Sara whispered.
“No. Emilie was my full sister, my only full sister. And my dearest friend. When I picture her in my mind…”
“Was she very lovely?”
“The loveliest thing. Everybody thought so. Not only physically but inside, too. She had a gentle soul, an inquisitive mind. A joyful spirit, and an adventurous one. She received word she’d been accepted as a companion to a much more powerful witch. In return for her companionship and assistance, she would be trained by this witch. It was a wonderful opportunity, and she was supremely honored and thrilled to accept. So, when she found out she’d have to travel to a new, nearly uncharted country, she didn’t balk at the thought. As I said, she had a sense of adventure. An unparalleled one.”
“Where did she go?”
“The New World, of course.”
“In the human world?” Her eyes were round with surprise.
She’d taken a seat on the floor, legs folded beneath her. I had a captive audience.
“Indeed. At the time, we lived in Romania, or what’s now referred to as such. I ran my family’s business interests there—we were quite wealthy, owning wide swaths of land both there and elsewhere, across Europe. Our father was a bit of what would later be referred to as a robber baron. He took and took. There was no end to his appetite for money, any more than there was for his appetite for power. I suppose his abilities were an aid to his success,” I added with a rueful smile.
“He magicked his way into it,” she murmured.
“I suppose so. Because of that, we didn’t have much of a relationship. He cared little for me or my sister and was satisfied to let us take care of ourselves.” I shrugged. “At any rate, I maintained our business interests while he traveled and bought more and more of what he wanted. I hated the idea of Emilie leaving, going so far away, with nobody to protect her. But I had business to wrap up and couldn’t simply leave.”
I looked at the floor, the shame and guilt still crushing me just as much as all those years earlier. It was a pain I had yet to learn to live with. One would think that, after so long, I’d be able to forget or at least allow the pain to lessen somewhat. It wasn’t possible.
“I promised I’d meet up with her as soon as I could. It felt like ages, but I managed to get things under control within three months. By then, I hadn’t heard anything from Emilie after she’d set sail from somewhere along the coast of Spain, and I was beginning to worry—then again, keep in mind communication wasn’t anything like it is now. By the time a letter was received, weeks and weeks would have passed. Especially when the letter made its way from present-day Massachusetts.”
When I looked at Sara again, a sort of understanding began to dawn on her face. She was following the story out to its logical conclusion.
I continued on before she had the chance to interject. “By the time I arrived, it was already over. The witch Emilie had traveled with was already dead. She’d been drained of blood.”
“Oh, no…”
I ignored her. “And Emilie...” I closed my eyes, but I could still see her beautiful face. The clear, laughing eyes, the hair black as jet. Her smile. I had to get it out before it choked me. “She was accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake.”
I took a few deep breaths to steady myself before continuing. I couldn’t help but imagine her burning. Her hair catching fire, her skin blistering and blackening as she screamed.
“The local magistrate was kind enough to allow me to take her things. She didn’t have much—clothing, books, a handful of letters from me. And her journal. I learned the whole, horrible truth when I read her journal.”
The crushing pain was almost too much. I could almost see her beautiful script, so carefully placed on the page, describing the excitement with which she’d made the journey and her hopes for training. She’d had so much potential. She could’ve been one of the most powerful witches in the world.
“What did it say?” Sara asked in a solemn whisper.
“At first, things were well. The trip was long but fairly uneventful. Until she met a nightwalker.”
“Nightwalker?”
“Vampire,” I spat. “A vampire. They met up on the ship. She’d sensed what he was immediately, as he’d sensed her. She was willing to live and let live. You see, vampires and witches tried to avoid stepping on each other’s toes, you might say, though there was no love lost between our kinds. Emilie wanted a new life in the New World and was willing to let it pass. He wasn’t.”
I shook my head, trying to clear the images her words brought to mind. “Suffice it to say, just before the journey’s end, he did his best to seduce her. She wasn’t interested. He vowed revenge, the bastard. He told her she would regret turning him down.”
I turned to Sara, whose eyes, by this time, shone with unshed tears. “Your tears won’t help Emilie,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s been gone all these centuries after dying one of the most painful deaths I can imagine. I’ve had to live all this time with the knowledge that if I hadn’t been so damned busy with what I thought was important—money—I could’ve prevented this from happening to her. All the while, the bastard who set her up to die—the nightwalker—who accused her of witchery and provided or manufactured enough evidence for it—has walked free. I don’t know if he’s still alive, but I know he had a longer life than he deserved.”
I leaned in, closer to her. “Now, ask me again why I hate vampires the way I do.”
21
Sara
I didn’t know what to say. What could I say in the face of a story like that? The pain was so evident in his voice, so clear and vivid I could almost touch it. A living thing. So much hatred, for such a good reason.
At least, what appeared on the surface to be a good reason. Not all vampires were like the one who’d killed his sister and the other witch. I certainly wasn’t. Neither was my mother, nor Anissa, nor Scott and his family.
My words would’ve fallen on deaf ears if I’d tried to explain.
Instead, once enough time had passed I felt comfortable speaking again, I asked, “Why would I know your name, though? You asked if I did, and that question seemed to lead to your story.”
He heaved a sigh, his eyes clearing after being nearly clouded over by pain. “Do you trust me?”
It seemed to come out of nowhere. “What?”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” I didn’t have to think about it. I trusted him implicitly, whether or not he hated vampires.
If he’d wanted to hurt me, he’d already had plenty of opportunities to do so. He hadn’t. He’d never done anything but push me closer to harnessing my powers.
“Then, come with me.” He stood, brushing off the seat of his robes, then held out a hand to help me up. I took it without thinking, pleased at the chance to make contact with him even if it was fleeting.
“Where are we going?”
“Always with the questions,” he sighed, leading me out of the training room—I’d come to think of it as such—and down the familiar tunnel which led to the old, stone staircase.
It wound up, up, all the way to the first floor of the fortress. Where I’d first entered, when everything had seemed so new. The fear I’d felt back then was a distant memory.
When he strode purposefully toward the heavy front door, I pulled up short. “We’re leaving?”
“Would you stop asking questions already? It’s the one thing about you I simply can’t abide by.”
“Besides my vampirism,” I remind
ed him sourly.
“Besides that.”
We stepped out into the damp chill, the sort of air that settled into the bones. I pulled up the hood of my dark robes and wrapped my arms around myself to contain as much of my body heat as possible.
“Don’t worry. We’re not going far.”
That was a relief, at any rate. I cast my eyes toward the wooden plank walkway at the water’s edge and wondered if Fane had been back since we met there. I hadn’t seen him, though I’d hardly been looking. I’d forgotten almost everything in the face of my training. And Stark.
We walked over the stone pathway between our fortress—funny how I’d come to think of it as ours—and the one farthest from the water, carved out of the center of the mountain. It appeared much the same as the one I’d been calling home, and I wondered what could be so special about it that we had to go there. I knew better than to ask.
Stark led me inside, and I was instantly glad of the chance to feel warm again—as warm as one could feel in a fortress carved from rock, with little charm or comfort. It was almost an exact replica of the one we’d just left, right down to the tapestries on the walls. Only these told a different story, though they were so faded I couldn’t quite make out what the story was.
I didn’t have time to examine them, either, since Stark didn’t slow down. I followed him across the stone floor in the corridor with almost no light from the sparsely torch-lined walls. There simply weren’t enough of them to light such a cavernous space.
He charged forward as though he could see in the dark, leading me down another staircase, through another tunnel. All that, to be led to another tunnel? I wondered silently why all the tunnels under all the fortresses couldn’t be connected. It would make traveling between them much easier in bad weather.
We didn’t stop walking for what seemed like forever. On and on through what seemed like miles of carved stone. Maybe not miles, though it felt that way. I was starting to tire out—it had been a long day of training, and I could’ve used a rest. Again, I knew pointing this out would be a waste of time.
There was, however, one question which I felt deserved an answer. “Where are we, Stark?”
“Where does it look like?”
“It’s very charming when you answer a question with a question,” I muttered. “It looks like we’re in the fortress, still. Nothing’s changed.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. We’re not even in Hallowthorn Landing anymore.”
I reached out for him, taking him by the shoulder and using all the power I could muster to stop him where he was. “Wait a minute. We’re not? How can that be?” I turned him around—or he turned around, I wasn’t sure. Either way, he faced me.
I had the pleasure of seeing his face crinkle into a smile. “You know, vampires are such base, simple creatures.”
“Shut up,” I warned. “I’m tired of you treating me this way. I don’t deserve it. Besides, I’m not even a full vampire anymore. I’m more than that now.”
One eyebrow went up. “Oh? How is that? Because you can control your electric displays? That makes you something more than who you are?”
I scowled. There were limits to a person’s patience, and though I felt sorry for his painful history—I might hold a grudge for as long as he had if something like what he’d been through had happened to me—I wasn’t about to let him get away with treating me how he did.
“Fine, then. If I’m not good enough the way I am, if I don’t pass muster as a witch, I want you to teach me more.”
I had never seen him so surprised. It was something new, seeing him react that way. “You’re serious?”
“Very,” I said with a firm nod.
Something about his story had helped me make up my mind. I didn’t want to straddle the fence any longer, not sure if I was a vampire or a witch. It was time to make a decision. “I want to know everything there is for me to know. I want you to teach me spells, help me develop my abilities. I want to know all the skills I have access to.”
“Really.”
“Really,” I repeated, willing him to believe me. “If I’m going to be a witch, I might as well be the best witch I can be.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up in what looked like a reluctant smile—even so, he held up a finger. “I will. So long as you feel the same, once you know everything there is to know.”
22
Gage
I had to find Cari. Nothing mattered more than finding her before anything terrible happened.
Too much time had already passed. Most of the day. It was night again, and I was on my way to the apartment where Jonah had found us. It was as good a place to start as any. Besides, immersing myself in the odor of the blood she’d had all over her clothes would be a good tool in tracking her. As a human, I could’ve tracked her natural essence. The scent which had first drawn me to her. I still remembered it, the way she’d called to me, the way I hadn’t been able to leave her alone that first night.
That night had changed everything.
And it was my fault for not being smarter.
She had no aroma now, as a vampire. I could only hope I could track her from the blood on her clothing.
The apartment was dark, empty, though I guess I had expected it to be. Nothing about the situation we were in had been easy, so why would it be easy to find her?
I cursed myself as I crouched by the sofa, breathing deep. She had lain there while the sickness passed through her. I filled my nostrils with the scent of blood and vomit—not very pleasant—until I was sure there was enough for me to track her by.
I only hoped I wasn’t too late to prevent the inevitable.
I tracked it to the stairs. She had taken them all the way down to the ground, and the scent still carried through all the way to the alley behind the high rise. It was dirty back there, full of weeds and broken glass. How could something that looked so beautiful and luxurious to passersby be so dangerous and unsightly on the other side?
The scent was strong out here. I smelled blood, plenty of it, even more clearly than I had in the stairwell—more than in the apartment. I hoped the reason why wasn’t too terrible, as sick certainty flooded my body.
It wasn’t one of her victims, as I’d feared, but it was just as bad. She’d discarded the clothes she’d been wearing in the apartment after, I assumed, stealing some from one of the stores in the building’s lobby. I recognized the tags lying on the ground where she’d left them. Like a clue for me. A harbinger of bad news. The new clothing meant I had no way to track her now.
“Damn it!” I snarled, curling one of my hands into a fist and punching the wall in frustration. I wouldn’t be able to track her anymore.
What was I supposed to do? The city was too large, too full of people—her potential victims. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack. I didn’t know where to start. My breath came in hard, quick gasps. I would hyperventilate before I’d find a way to stop Cari from wreaking havoc. Havoc I had caused.
Her apartment. Of course. She needed somewhere to go, somewhere she could feel safe again. She’d go home. I took off at a run, not caring anymore if I attracted attention, pushing my way through crowds of people enjoying a night out on the town. They had no idea what went on under their very noses. None of them ever did.
I knew the way by heart, even though I hadn’t been there in weeks—the night I’d waited outside like a stalker, watching to see which window she appeared in. She was at the top, in the front apartment. I could still imagine her there, talking on the phone, framed by flowered curtains and plants which hung from the ceiling, lined the windowsill. She had looked happy. Alive. Human.
I was such a fool for dragging her into my world. I should’ve known it would end like this. What happened to me didn’t matter—I didn’t care if the league wanted me dead for what I’d done. My life meant nothing compared to hers. But what had I done by turning her before she died? I’d sentenced her to living hell. She would never be able to res
t, since they would never stop hunting her. They’d never allow her to live.
The brownstone was as dark as the apartment had been, but I went up nonetheless. If she was hiding, she might not have bothered to turn on the lights. The door was locked, not that it mattered. I hardly thought she would raise a fuss over my breaking the lock.
The apartment was empty and appeared untouched. The only presence was that of a cat who hissed and fled when I flung the door open. I remembered the cat sitting in the window, too. It probably missed her. I would if I was in its shoes.
“Here, kitty,” I muttered, pouring food into its bowl and refilling its water. It was the least I could do. I had taken its “mother” away.
The apartment was sweet. Charming. Exactly the sort of place I would’ve imagined her living. Full of books and photos, plants and flowers. Knickknacks, mementos. The scent of vanilla hung in the air, and I realized it was from a series of candles along the mantle. She enjoyed coziness.
She had enjoyed it. I had to stop thinking about her in present tense.
I knew as well as anyone what it was like to make the change, how there was a distinct “before” and “after” to life.
A new vampire retained some of what had made them who they were, but other things had to change. It was natural. She might not have the same tastes anymore. She might not enjoy reading. She might become the sort of vampire who cared for nothing but the hunt, at the sacrifice of everything else that used to make her the girl I’d fallen in love with.
“Cari, Cari,” I whispered, leaning against the front door as I took one more look around. I couldn’t afford to waste time here, no matter how much I wished to cling to what was left of the beautiful girl who once lived here. She would still live here, might be asleep in the bed with its patchwork quilt, if it weren’t for me.
