Dark Secret

by Danielle Rose

  “Thank the Goddess for that, right?” I say sarcastically.

  Jasik arches a brow.

  “We wouldn’t want humans venturing too close to home,” I say pointedly.

  “I fear your impression of vampires is…distasteful,” he says.

  I shrug. “I speak from experience.”

  “You speak based solely on what you were taught to believe.”

  “Are you suggesting my family has been dishonest?” I stop abruptly and turn to face him, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “It would appear that way.”

  I’m annoyed by his confidence, even though a twinge of regret builds within me. How can I be angry with him when he’s shown me a much softer side than I’m used to? He protected us and chose to fight by our side when the other vampires attacked. He saved my life. He stopped me from killing those humans.

  He’s right. The witches have never told me there were vampires out there who wanted to coexist. Knowing what I know now, would I have stopped my patrols? Would I have hunted all those vampires? Would my coven have disowned me years ago if I believed we could live among vampires in peace?

  Before I can respond to his accusation, the front doors to the manor swing open, smacking against the walls on either side. One figure stands prominently in the doorway. She stares at me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl and heart burn. I can practically feel her anger.

  Seconds tick by, and I take this time to assess the threat. She’s tall, thin. Her shiny black hair is sleek and brushed back, and the ends hang raggedly above her shoulders. Her long-sleeved black dress is lacy and sheer, revealing the delicate curves of her small frame. Everything about her makes her look weak, but I’m certain she’s not. It’s a disguise that hides the powerful monster within.

  She moves swiftly toward me, almost as if she’s floating. Of course, I know she’s not. Vampires only fly in the movies.

  In a flash, she’s standing before me. She reaches forward and grasps my chin between her fingers, snapping my head upward so our eyes meet. She watches me carefully. I don’t speak. I don’t even try to pull away. I’m mesmerized by her beauty and the power that radiates from her. I’m fairly certain if I were to fight this woman, I would lose, even with my newfound enhanced vampire strength. After spending several agonizing seconds inspecting me, she releases my chin and turns to face Jasik.

  “How could you?” she hisses. Her voice is firm and smooth. Even though she’s not speaking to me, or even looking at me, I’m overwhelmed with the desire to explain my actions, to apologize and beg for forgiveness. Something about this woman doesn’t sit right with me. I want to please her in ways I can’t even explain.

  “She was dying,” Jasik says. He averts his gaze from hers.

  “She’s a witch!”

  I don’t miss how the word “witch” sits on her tongue. She doesn’t like my kind, and I’m not sure how her hatred is going to affect my prosperity. Will I even be welcomed here? And if I’m not, what am I going to do? There’s nowhere I can go where I can learn to control my blood lust.

  “Not anymore,” Jasik says.

  “Look at me,” she orders, and he does—immediately. I wasn’t sure before, but I know now. This woman is in charge. If I want to survive my transition, I need to be on her good side. I just hope she has one.

  “I’m sorry,” Jasik whispers. I sense his regret. It pierces my heart like a knife. I don’t understand why it hurts so much that he regrets saving my life, but I can’t shake the feeling.

  “We have rules in place for a reason, Jasik.”

  He nods.

  “And you are well aware of the consequences for breaking my rules.”

  “I am,” he says.

  I try to make eye contact, but he doesn’t budge. He maintains complete control as this woman chastises him for saving my life. Anger builds within me. What was he supposed to do? Let me die? Is that what she’d prefer? Does she feel this way only because I’m a witch? Would she be this upset if he came home with a newly turned human?

  She arches a brow, and a sly grin forms across her perfect face. The lingering moonlight dances across her dark skin. Her crimson irises glow in the night, and I can’t help noticing the flash of joy in them. It’s clear something has just occurred to her, and I fear for Jasik’s life.

  “Death becomes you.” She speaks slowly, emphasizing each word. Her voice deepens, darkens, and her words twist around in my mind.

  Death becomes you.

  I pray this doesn’t mean what I think it means.

  Again, Jasik nods. Briefly, he breaks eye contact with this woman. He glances at me, and his eyes are filled with sorrow. But why? Is he afraid for himself or for me? Everything is happening too quickly. I don’t know what to think or what to do. I can’t turn to Jasik for answers because he’s bound to this woman—probably in the same way I’m bound to him.

  She unsheathes a dagger she had strapped to her waist. I didn’t even notice she was armed. I was too busy romanticizing my vision of her. I was too busy hoping she wasn’t going to kill Jasik…and then me.

  She swipes the blade forward, and it slashes across Jasik’s chest. A bloody line strikes his torso and bleeds into the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t even move. He doesn’t cry out or fight back. He simply stands and waits.

  But I can’t.

  I lunge forward, my legs having a mind of their own. I reach him in the few seconds it takes for the woman to jab her blade forward. Putting myself between Jasik and his attacker, I withstand the full force of her fury as inch after inch of metal sinks into my chest. It slides through my flesh, centimeters away from my heart. She roots it deeply inside me and lets it linger while we make eye contact.

  Jasik gasps behind me. My body is pushed against his. He grabs on to my arms as I start to fall back from the force of my assault. His fingers dig into my flesh as he holds me upright.

  The woman’s smile fades, and then she quickly yanks the dagger from my chest. I shriek as it’s removed. The sound of metal scraping against bone will forever play in my mind. The woman steps back and watches as my knees buckle.

  I’m swooped into Jasik’s arms before I can fall to the ground. My chest heaves, my pulse races, and my stomach burns. What little energy I have is desperately trying to heal my wound, and I fear if I don’t feed, I will die. In my line of work, I never feared death, but now I’m clinging to life with everything I have.

  “Do you see why I have my rules?” the woman says.

  Jasik tears his gaze from mine to look at the woman. His forehead is creased from his concern, and I can see confusion and anger muddled in his crimson eyes.

  He holds me close to him, and I lean in. His musky scent wafts all around me. I inhale deeply and let the scent of cinnamon consume me. He smells like Yule morning back at home. A thought occurs to me: I may never see another sabbat again.

  “How could you?” he asks, seething. “You know she’s sired to me!”

  “The fact that she is bound to you is the reason why I went to such lengths to uncover her innate devotion. This is why I have rules. No one but me sires vampires in my own home. She will be a problem.”

  “You haven’t even given her a chance,” Jasik says.

  “I don’t need to. Why do you think I have this rule? You aren’t the first vampire I’ve sired to bring home a pet.”

  “She isn’t my pet. Rogue vampires attacked her coven while we were hunting. We couldn’t risk allowing the witches to be turned by rogues. I prevented an even greater threat by turning her myself.”

  I focus on the truth in Jasik’s words. He didn’t save me because he cared or because he wants to coexist with witches. He saved me to claim my soul as his own—to prevent the other vampires from getting a witch first. The betrayal of knowing his truth hurts more than I care to admit. I thought I would be safe with him. I trusted him. I believed he actually cared about saving me, about helping my coven.

  The woman doesn’t speak as she conside
rs his words.

  “She won’t become a problem, Amicia. Give her a chance,” Jasik pleads.

  Amicia. Clearly, she is the leader here. She makes the decisions, and my life is in her hands. Slowly, I’m beginning to heal. I can feel my flesh tethering together like a braided rope. Hopefully I’ll only need a few more minutes of peace before I am well again.

  Silence suspends around us like stagnant air as I wait for her to pass judgment on my soul. Will she offer me a chance? Or will Jasik’s penance be taking my life?

  “I will train her,” someone says.

  In the distance, Malik approaches us. Jasik’s brother strides closer, his eyes on Amicia. Something passes between them. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m itching to find out.

  “Do you think you can truly control a witch-turned-vampire?” Amicia asks him.

  He nods. “If I can’t, I’ll take care of the situation for Jasik. Either way, the threat you fear will be eliminated.”

  I swallow hard, suppressing a gasp. I suppose I understand his earlier reservations. His brother risked his life to save me, even if it was for the greater good. If I had a sibling, I’d feel uneasy too. The last thing I’d want is to watch my sibling die at the hands of faulty leadership.

  Before disappearing inside the dark manor, Amicia says, “If she makes me regret my leniency, everyone will be held accountable. I certainly hope she’s worth your lives.”

  Chapter Nine

  I’m dreaming.

  I sit up, looking around. My head feels heavy, and the room is dark. As I stand and rise from the bed, it takes every bit of strength I can muster to walk just a few steps.

  I look around the room, noticing the full-length corner mirror Mamá brought home for me last summer, the cracked wall that serves as a reminder of when I lost control and attacked my own coven, and the shattered picture frames that lie in piles on the floor. I lean down and glance at each photo.

  The collage is of a beautiful girl. She smiles next to an older woman who closely resembles her. They hug each other as if nothing could tear apart their bond. In the next photo, the girl stands with an arched back, strong legs, and straight arms pointed toward the sky. She’s wearing a metallic, sparkly leotard. In another picture, the girl is a child. She’s standing beside a man who holds her close.

  The girl is me, but at the same time, I’m not her anymore. In these photos, I look happy, as if life gave me everything I’d ever asked for. Our faces are the ultimate disguise for the turmoil that lies beneath. The girl in these pictures was used to hiding her inner demons; she had everyone fooled.

  I set the photographs on the bedside table and walk around the bed, trailing my hand against the footboard. The door to the hallway is open, and clothes clutter the floor beside it. I left so abruptly I didn’t have time to clean.

  A scattering of Post-it Notes decorates the wall beside a desk. They’re written in sloppy handwriting.

  Write more poetry.

  Help Liv with garden.

  Clean closet.

  A floorboard creaks behind me. I turn around, but no one is there.

  The air is hazy as I walk through the room and toward the desk. On the desktop, there’s a cluttering of homemade picture frames with superglued seashells stuck to the edges.

  In one photo, the happy girl sits at a table surrounded by smiling faces. She smiles too and hangs her arm around another’s shoulder. Also on the desk are a closed laptop, an open notebook with scribbled cartoons, and a stack of books: herbology, crystal magic, and modern witchcraft. Against the desk, a backpack sits open on the floor. Folders, notebooks, and pens spill out.

  I grab a lanyard off the desk; Darkhaven Public Library is written on the strap. I stare at the girl in the picture on the ID badge. Her long brown hair rests in soft waves next to her face. Her smile stretches from ear to ear.

  “I look so happy,” I whisper.

  “You were,” a voice says from behind me.

  I drop the lanyard and spin around, stumbling backward until I’m flush against the wall.

  “Are you still happy, Ava? Are they…taking care of you?”

  The woman standing before me is the same woman from the broken picture frame. She’s the older woman who was holding the happy girl.

  I shake my head, unable to believe we still have this psychic connection even after my death. Tears threaten, and I gasp, “Mamá.”

  She smiles at me and waits for me to answer her question.

  “Estoy asustada,” I whisper.

  “You mustn’t be afraid,” Mamá replies.

  “Pero estoy sola,” I say.

  “No. You’re never alone. Siempre estaré contigo,” she says as she walks toward me and plants a kiss atop my head.

  I nod, and she wipes away my tears. She’ll always be with me, but sometimes it’s nice to hear it aloud. I feared she hated me after what happened.

  “No más llanto, mija. Be strong. Siempre te querré.”

  “I love you too, Mamá.”

  I wake in darkness, in solitude. Mamá is gone. Our psychic connection was broken when she abruptly severed our link. I didn’t think she could still enter my dreams. That is a coveted ability between spirit users, but I’m not supposed to be a spirit witch anymore.

  I think about what she said. She told me to be strong, and she asked if they were taking care of me. She might have cast me away, but I’m still her only child. She still cares, so she might allow me to return once I’ve learned control. The thought makes me giddy and ready to start my day.

  I roll over in bed. The subtle sounds of an old, creaking house echo in my mind. If I were blind, I might believe I’m home. The muffles of an old manor sound the same no matter where I am. But I’m not blind, and I’m not home. Having just visited my old bedroom, that thought sits heavily with me.

  I sit up, shifting beneath the bundles of blankets that cocoon me. I brush a hand through my matted hair and scan the room. It’s exactly the same as it was yesterday, when Jasik plopped me on the bed and told me I needed to rest. He offered to stay with me, but I needed space. I could tell he was unsure if he should trust me to stay put, but in the end, my insistence was stronger than his willpower.

  With thick shades hanging over the windows, darkness engulfs my room, yet I can see everything, as if the sun is setting, casting shadows in corners while illuminating patches of floorboards.

  The bedroom is stunning. The enormity of the furniture makes the room feel small, yet comforting and homey.

  The king-size bed is dressed in a dark-beige comforter. It’s supported by four posts that nearly touch the ceiling. Sheer white fabric twirls around each bedpost and then encloses the bed, creating a blissful paradise.

  An enormous armoire nearly takes up one entire wall. I consider putting my clothes away, but I can’t bring myself to admit I’ll be staying long enough for the need to unpack.

  An elegant makeup table is against another wall. Unfortunately, I don’t wear much makeup, so that piece of furniture is pretty much a waste.

  I lean against the headboard and stare at my overnight bag. The duffel is sitting on the floor beside the door. Inside are all the things I can never have. I contemplate opening it and attempting to wear my cross, but I’m not sure what scares me more—thinking I can’t wear it or confirming the assumption.

  I exhale sharply and try to clear my mind. My stomach is rumbling, and last night, Jasik informed me I’d need to feed today if I expect to survive the transition. I wasted too much of the wolf’s blood to consider it an actual feeding.

  I still want to survive the events of the full moon ritual, and unfortunately, becoming the undead is the only way to do that.

  Much like my former bedroom, there are three doors to this room—one leads to the hallway, another leads to a closet, and the final leads to a small bathroom. I did some minor exploring after Jasik left last night, but I was too scared to venture outside my room. That’s something I’ll get to enjoy today, but this time I’ll have
a tour guide and won’t really be sneaking around.

  The walls are painted a dark blue, and the hardwood floors are stained dark chocolate brown. I didn’t see much of the manor when Jasik carried me inside; I was too concerned with the fact that I had been stabbed by my new leader. But based on a few side glances, I can see this bedroom mirrors much of the house’s other rooms. Clearly the vampires here favor antiques, natural wood, and dark colors.

  Jasik mentioned that nearly a dozen vampires call Darkhaven home—and they all live here. He insists I’ve never met them on my patrols, which is a thought that never occurred to me. I’m glad I never tried to kill one of the vampires who live here. That might make things awkward.

  I dangle my legs over the side of the bed and stretch involuntarily. My joints are stiff, my head aches, and my stomach is on a constant grumble loop. My mind is foggy. All I can really focus on is getting something to eat to calm my nerves. Jasik warned me that starvation affects vampires differently. Unlike humans, they don’t just slowly die; they go mad from hunger. I was irrational immediately after my transition, and I don’t want to risk lives by waiting too long to feed.

  I hop off the bed, grab my duffel, and head for the bathroom. I plop my bag down, carefully unzip it, pull out an outfit that looks eerily similar to the one I’m already wearing, and toss my toiletry kit onto the counter. I leave everything else in the bag.

  Staring at a set of crimson irises, I lean against the countertop. Stopping just inches away from the mirror, I curl my lips and run my tongue over my teeth, lingering on the pointy tips of my fangs. They are retracted, but they hang ever so slightly lower than a human’s canines, giving away their hopeless attempt at normality.

  Everything inside me screams that fangs are meant for ripping through flesh. Fangs mean death. Fangs mean murder. Vampires need blood to survive. I need blood to survive. Whether that means killing a human or an animal, it leaves an acidic sting in my gut.