“Okay, sorry,” I say, a little more forcefully than intended.
“You could have died, Ava. One miscalculation, and that blade would have sliced through your torso. You can’t heal from being chopped in half,” he says dryly.
“I know. You’re right. I was just excited. I wasn’t thinking,” I say.
He nods and offers me a small smile. “You should prepare. Malik will be here any minute, and he takes training seriously.”
“Is that why he’s training me and you’re not?” I ask.
He shrugs. “He’s the better trainer for you.”
“And why is that?” I ask.
Jasik is silent for a moment. “He feels no temptation.”
I swallow hard and whisper, “And you do?”
“I’m your sire, Ava. I will always feel something for you.”
The palm of his hand finds the center of my chest in a quick jab. I am propelled backward. I hit the brick wall with a force that pushes the air out of my lungs. Chunks of brick fall beside me, a cloud of dust coating the air. I push myself off the ground, the bones in my chest slowly healing from my brush with death.
As I stand, my fangs lower, and instinctively I take a predatory stance.
“Good, but you must immediately counterattack, Ava,” Malik says.
I brush off my hands and roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” My fangs retract, and I kick the pieces of stone at my feet.
“This is important. They came for you once, and they will come again. He will stop at nothing to claim you.”
“Thanks for reminding me there’s a big evil out there, and he only wants to play with me,” I say sarcastically.
I cross my arms over my chest as if his words don’t bother me. I pretend I’m not worried, but it’s a lie. I know Malik can sense my growing nervousness and my fear, but I still try to hide it. I need everyone to believe I am as strong as they are.
“You must be ready for any attack,” he says.
“I am,” I argue, annoyed with his accusation. I started preparing to fight vampires while I was still a child. Dying at the hands of one hasn’t changed that.
I blink, and he dashes to the other side of the room. He grabs the dagger Jasik was playing with earlier, spins it around, and throws it. It slices through the air, flying past my face with precision accuracy. Only centimeters from slicing my cheek, it seems to move in slow motion. I reach forward, grab on to the weapon by the tip of the blade, and throw it back. I don’t miss my target. The thin blade plants itself in the center of a bull’s eye on the back wall.
Malik smiles. “Impressive.”
I nod. Heck, even I’m happy with my reflexes. They’re better than I thought they’d be after my fight with the rogues. I thought I’d be healing from those injuries for weeks.
“You are well-trained, Ava,” Malik says.
“I am. I was a hunter too,” I say proudly.
I hope my enthusiasm will give him more confidence in me. I want him to see me as a member of his team, not as Jasik’s mistake. I held my own against three rogue vampires, and I emerged victorious. After that, Malik has to trust me to join the ranks and help patrol.
Instead, Malik frowns, and I fear I’ve crossed a line. I probably shouldn’t tell a vampire that I’m experienced in hunting his kind, especially if I happen to be sparring with said vampire.
After a few seconds, he finally responds. “Your past will be an asset.”
“I think so. I’ve trained for years. You just need to trust that I’m ready for this.”
Chapter Fifteen
I watch them from afar, never stepping too close, never getting in their crosshairs. I know how dangerous they can be—even to me.
They don’t know I’m here, watching, waiting, lurking in the shadows like a true night stalker. They don’t know they’re a blink away from their greatest enemy…me.
It’s been one month since I died…and was reborn. So much has happened in the last thirty days. So much has changed.
They walk into the backyard in a single-file line, and I think about how familiar everything feels. Sage is burning, and the smell wafts through the air, tickling my heightened senses. Fighting a sneeze, I scrunch my nose. The burning herb bundles are irritating.
Dozens of candles burn brightly, distorting the scene before me. They’re too bright for my tired eyes, so I move to hide behind a different tree—one that doesn’t block my view of them but covers the candles that are scattered around the ground. They never even see me.
Everything they do, they do in unison. It’s clear they’ve been practicing this for years. Decades, even. Their technique is flawless, and they all work so well together. It reminds me of home.
The other vampire hunters and I have succumbed to a comfortable rhythm too. Gone are the days of petty arguments and baseless accusations. We get along fairly well when tempers aren’t flared. I even embark on my own hunts now, but those are rare.
Tonight is one of the few times I’m allowed to hunt alone. Jasik doesn’t trust me. I think it’s because he doesn’t understand my appreciation for the shadows, for the hunt, for the kill. He says it’s because I’m not ready yet. I’m not as strong as he believes I can be. He tells me I’m special. A witch-turned-vampire is a rare creature, and I need to test my strength, my power, my endurance. To make him happy—and secretly because I kind of love sparring—I train with Malik as often as he can handle me.
Malik doesn’t appreciate my sense of humor, and I don’t appreciate his lack of one. Whenever I get on his nerves, which is fairly often, he likes to hurt my feelings by telling me he only tolerates me staying at the manor because I’ll be homeless if I’m voted out—as if we’re on some reality television show. I don’t let him know how much his words actually do hurt. He’s right. I would be homeless.
I’m building trust with my new vampire family—I think even Amicia is starting to like having me around—but I’ll never forget my first home. I’ll never forget the witches who brought me into this world and then forced me out.
Instead of taking the high road and ignoring his comments, I like to mention Malik’s new mystery woman. He hates when I bring her up, so we pretty much talk about her every day. I ask him when he’ll bring her to the manor, and he tells me he never will. I ask what’s wrong with her, and he tells me she’s perfect. I tell him I’ll break down his walls eventually, and he tells me I have my own romance to worry about.
Around this time, my cheeks burn, and I call off the sparring match. For some reason, I just can’t talk about Jasik in front of Malik. I assure Malik nothing is going on as I’m practically tripping over my own feet to get away from him. Clearly I’m stealthy and incredibly agile, and I don’t know why they don’t trust me to patrol on my own more often…
The witches I’m spying on are shouting something now. I move closer. All that separates us is one line of small trees and several feet of open space. I imagine this is where the rogues were hiding the day they came for my soul.
I listen to the witches and try not to be seen because I’m not quite sure how I’d explain myself to them or the vampires.
I scan their familiar faces in search of the one I seek. It doesn’t take long to find her. She looks just like me, except several worry lines crease her aging skin. I can’t remember if those were there before or if they’re new. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. She looks the same, yet different. Would I look the same to her? Maybe if I step out and show her I’m here…
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Of course, this never works, but Jasik insists I have a chaperon because I’m reckless. I’m trying to prove to him I won’t do something stupid just because I’m alone.
Sometimes it’s hard to be in the manor with him there. When I’m not sneaking around trying to discover the identity of Malik’s new girlfriend or begging him to spar, I’m fighting my ever-growing and oh-so-annoying attraction for Jasik. It’s a daily battle. The fact that he feels the same way makes it that
much harder.
The witches stand in a circle, interlocking hands to form one united front. They stare at the sky, and the moon shines down upon them. They bless the moon and thank her for her radiance over the past month.
At the center of the circle of witches, there is an altar cluttered with keepsakes and ritual relics. There’s something for every element and a sphere to represent the moon. Beside it, glistening as the moonlight gleams upon it, there is a silver cross. It’s an exact replica of the cross Papá gave me. I don’t know if it’s Mamá’s or if she had it made after I left.
I sigh and glance down. My neck is bare. My silver cross necklace is at the manor. I keep it in the drawer of my bedside table. I think about it every single day when I lie down to sleep, but I rarely look at it anymore. Knowing I’ll never be able to touch the cool metal is a cross I’ll have to forever bear.
I glance back at the witches. They’re almost done with their ritual, so I’ll soon be able to go home. Suddenly I ache to return to the manor and strip from my clothes, take a hot bath, and then slumber for a decade or two. I want to wash away the memories evoked by watching them tonight.
It’s true I never wanted to be a vampire, but if Mamá were to see me now and ask how I am, I wouldn’t deny that I’m starting to enjoy my new life. The daughter she remembers used to dream of marrying the love of her life and dying with him on the same day. But that girl died a long time ago. Now I’ll never grow old, and I’ve accepted that eternal fate.
With their ritual complete, they walk in single file back to the house. A few witches linger behind to blow out the candles and carry in the relics. The sliding door shuts, and the remaining witches disappear behind the walls of a house I’ll never again enter.
Mamá is in the kitchen window. She stares at the woods, and my pulse races. Can she see me? I blend into the night, but my crimson eyes pierce even the darkest shadows.
After another second, the outside light is turned off and Mamá is gone. I guess she didn’t see me, watching, waiting, lurking in the shadows like the vampire I am.
I watch them from the forest behind my old house. They never know I’m here. If they did, they’d try to kill me. I know this to be true, yet I still patrol the woods.
I’ve been a vampire for an entire month, and that slow-passing time has helped me come to terms with something I’ve feared since the day I was forsaken: my coven won’t accept me—not like this, not as a vampire. They will never take me back.
But I will protect them nonetheless.
Acknowledgments
I’m grateful for having so many inspiring and supportive people in my life.
To Heather, who is such an amazing person, a good friend, and someone who harnesses a level of creativity I aspire to obtain. You’re such an integral part of my process. I look to you for guidance, support, and friendship, and I honestly feel as though I wouldn’t be where I am today without your help. Never lose your shine.
I would also like to acknowledge my family, who offers unwavering support. I couldn’t do this career without you. I love you all.
Shout out to the members of Petals & Thorns, my Facebook group. I adore you all so very much, and I hope my books bring you even an ounce of the joy you bring me. I can’t imagine a better street team.
Finally, special thanks goes to the amazing team at Waterhouse Press. In the middle of writing this book, tragedy struck, and I lost my aunt. Her unexpected passing meant I wasn’t able to meet my deadline. There’s very little I fear more than disappointing my publisher, but their unwavering support sprouted a confidence in me I’ll never shake.
Meredith, Jon, Jesse, Scott, Robyn, Haley, Jennifer, Yvonne, Amber, Keli Jo, Kurt, and the rest of the team behind making publishing not only possible but an actual career for me—thank you. From the bottom of my heart to the depths of my soul, your graciousness, love, and support helped me through darkness to embrace a light from which I’ve crafted this novel. I’m so very proud of this one, and I can’t imagine a better home for it than Waterhouse Press.
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Also by Danielle Rose
Darkhaven Saga:
Dark Secret
Dark Magic
Dark Promise
Dark Spell
Dark Curse
* * *
Pieces of Me Duet:
Lies We Keep
Truth We Bear
* * *
For a full list of Danielle’s other titles,
visit her at
DRoseAuthor.com
About Danielle Rose
Dubbed a “triple threat” by readers, Danielle Rose dabbles in many genres, including urban fantasy, suspense, and romance. The USA Today bestselling author holds a master of fine arts in creative writing from the University of Southern Maine.
Danielle is a self-professed sufferer of ’philes and an Oxford comma enthusiast. She prefers solitude to crowds, animals to people, four seasons to hellfire, nature to cities, and traveling as often as she breathes.
For more information, please follow Danielle Rose at:
DRoseAuthor.com
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