by Elena Lawson
I wondered what it was like to always live in darkness. I glanced at my friend and found his expression sad. Distant. A heaviness settled on my shoulders. There had to be some way for him to see the sun again. I’d find a way.
Did he regret it? The question came unbidden to my mind. They’d done this to themselves partly to avenge me.
Was it worth it? I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about doing exactly what they did back in the beginning. Before I learned that I could be almost just as fast as them. Nearly as strong. And before my talent to compel fully manifested. I’d been desperate to find the bastard who killed my mom—who almost killed me. I’d almost traded my soul to the devil, too.
“Rose!” Frost yelled, his stony expression shifting to horror.
I swiveled the wheel just in time to miss the parked black sedan on the side of the highway. We bumped along on the dirt at the side of the pavement before Betty’s bald tires found the road again.
My spine was erect, and my legs were tingling. My pulse pounded in my ears and blood rushed to my head, giving me a spike of adrenaline. Once were safely between the two yellow lines again, I burst out laughing. Loud, belly laughing. Tears obscured my vision and my sides ached.
Frost was absolutely horrified, and somehow that just made the whole thing even more funny. I pounded my palm on the steering wheel hollering. “Fuck,” I exclaimed when the laughter began to subside. “That was a close one.”
“Do you have a fucking death wish, Rose? Or are you just in—”
The siren cut through the tension in the cab like a knife. Both Frost and I stilled in our seats as the blue and red lights of the cop car gaining speed behind us blinded me.
“Shit!” Frost shouted. “Now look what you did.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“Just pull over and be quiet,” Frost said, clearly grumpy now. “Let me do the talking. I’m still not great at compelling, but I can handle this.”
He was clearly gearing himself up for it. Head bent as he tried to focus—maybe draw on his ability or collect his energy. I barely remembered when it used to be that hard for me.
Good thing for the both of us, I was good at it. Very good at it. Especially with humans.
“I got this,” I said to him as I gently coaxed Betty to a stop at the side of the road and the officer pulled up behind us.
“What?” Frost growled.
I raised my brows at his confusion, forgetting that he likely didn’t know I could compel. The vampires who knew of me thought I was a man or maybe another vampire. I didn’t leave any alive to go blabbing that I was a human who could compel. Well, except for that one vamp in El Paso, but he was so fast there wasn’t any way I could have caught up to him when he set his mind to running away. Slippery fucker.
I reconsidered showing Frost my ability—still not trusting him fully—but thought better of it. Let him see what I can do. How good I am at it. Maybe he’d think twice about how fragile he seemed to think I was.
I mean, fuck, how did he think I managed to kill all the vamps? I was a trained fighter, yes, but not a damned ninja assassin.
The officer got out of his vehicle and slowly meandered his way over to my truck, his hand hovering over his weapon. Paranoid much? Though since the truck was occupied by a vampire and a vampire huntress, I supposed I couldn’t blame the guy. In this case—he was right to be afraid.
He saw that the window was already down and tipped his wide-brimmed hat. I watched his throat bob in the light pouring over us from his headlights and oncoming traffic. When he lifted his head, my heart sank. A pair of glasses were affixed to his face with a string that connected them on the back of his head—holding the frames tight to his skull.
Well, fuck.
“Evening ma’am,” he said, his tone professional, though I didn’t miss the slight widening of his eyes when he saw me. My scar was in full view, and his eyes zeroed in on it like a missile on target. I should’ve been used to it by now, but I still flinched when I saw how his expression twisted for an instant from placid professionalism to horror, disgust, and then finally, as it always did—to pity.
“Evening,” I replied, stoic. “Is there a problem?”
It took the middle-aged man a moment to gather his thoughts and tear his gaze away from the ragged edges of my scar. He cleared his throat. “Afraid so,” he said. “Do you know how fast you were going?”
My teeth ground together behind my lips. How could I convince him to take those glasses off? Or should I just tear them from his head? Had he called for backup?
When I didn’t respond right away—trying to find a way out of this mess that wouldn’t end with a visit to the station, the officer sighed. “License and registration,” he said, pulling out a small notepad and pen from his breast pocket.
I passed him the card and document from the little compartment to the left of the wheel.
Frost nudged my leg with his knee, and I swiveled my head to him. His hands were white-knuckled claws gripping the edge of the seat. If he squeezed any tighter, he’d tear chunks right out of them. The fuck was his problem?
I was about to ask him as much when I realized what he was looking at. Down the highway—across the blue sky—the signs of dawn approaching seemed to have sped up. But that wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to rise for another half an hour at least!
Had I adjusted the clock wrong? Miscalculated?
The base of the sky was brighter than it had been only moments before. The reddish-orange glow beginning at the place where the sky met earth on the horizon. Spattering the sky with yellowed clouds. Staining the blue in hues of purple and pink.
The officer was already going back to his truck and I turned to Frost. We needed to get him the hell out of here. My heart jumped into my throat and the hairs on my arms rose. We had maybe ten minutes before the sun crested the horizon. Fifteen at best.
“Rose,” he said, turning to me, taking my hand in his. “Look, I just want you to know—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped at him, ripping my hand away.
He didn’t get to say goodbye to me—not again.
I wouldn’t allow it.
I kicked the door open and stepped outside the cab, stomping over to where the police officer was entering my information into his computer.
He caught sight of me—a shadow drawing nearer and bashed his head against the roof of his cab in his haste to stumble out of the black cruiser. “Miss!” he said, reaching again for his gun. “Miss, I’m going to need to ask you to return to your vehicle.”
The warning in his voice was clear, but if I knew anything about the inner workings of men—the majority of them didn’t feel very threatened by girl who looked like I did. Short and sweet—with my trademark fuck me eyes. I didn’t stop walking, trusting my gut instinct that he wouldn’t shoot.
Even after he drew his gun and aimed it at me.
Even after me cocked it back, the click making my skin bristle.
I didn’t stop.
When I was close enough, I ran the last two steps, swung out my leg and roadhouse kicked the gun from his hands. It clattered into the dirt and gravel and he moved to retrieve it, but I was there first.
Frost was, too. He kicked the weapon out of the officer’s reach at the same time I dodged his swinging fist, clamped my hand around his stubble-covered neck and tore the glasses form his eyes. Shoving him back behind the police vehicle to attempt to block us from the prying eyes of early morning traffic. Thankfully there weren’t many people on this highway this time of morning. “Look at me,” I ordered him, shouting.
“P—please he said,” his confidence vanishing. “I’ve got kids.”
“Rose! We need to go!” Frost shouted, “Let me—”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I hissed, looking over my shoulder to see the orange glow of the rising sun was spreading faster—too fast. “Look at me!”
Finally, he did. “You never saw us,” I commanded. “We were
never here. You are going to get back into your car and you’re going to go that way,” I said, pointing in the direction opposite to the one in which we were headed. “Until sunrise.”
Frost was already moving back to the truck, reminding me we were out of time.
“Go,” I said and released his throat, running back to the open driver’s side door. I jumped inside and slammed the door closed, punching Betty into drive and flooring the gas pedal.
We lurched back onto the road, almost hitting another car before I pulled out ahead of it and hammered Betty down as fast as she could go.
“Rose, where are—”
“There’s a motel,” I said, the panic in my voice palpable as we passed car after car—a hollow pit forming in the bottom of my stomach. “Near Snowville. Just a few more miles.”
“We don’t have a few more miles!”
I looked into the emptiness on either side of the road. There had to be someplace else we could go. Any shelter would be good enough. But I saw nothing except sparse grass, rolling hills, and dirt. As far as I could see in any direction. I’d been on this highway several times, but I couldn’t think of anything except the motel I knew was in Snowville. I knew because I’d stayed there once.
Stupid! Why did I try to go so far? We should have stopped in Boise, or Twin Falls. Fuck, we could have stopped so many damned places along the way if I hadn’t been so bent on getting there—seeing the others.
And what would I tell them now. Hey guys, I missed you—oh and by the way Frost is dead because I’m a huge idiot.
I was taken aback at how much even thinking about it hurt. Like a knife in my gut. I reached over and took Frost’s hand, hot wetness stinging my eyes. “I won’t let you die.”
He couldn’t die. Not after I’d just found him again.
I didn’t care if he was a vampire! I wouldn’t lose him or any of the others. Not ever again.
Frost offered me a small, tight smile as if to tell me it’s alright, Rosie.
But it was far from being alright.
I saw a slice of dirt road among the sparse patches of green. Like a ribbon cast from the sky to lay in a curving line through the landscape. It had to lead somewhere. Roads lead to shelter.
Releasing Frost’s hand, I yanked the wheel hard to the right, Betty skidding from the blacktop, bumping onto the dirt drive. I threw her into a lower gear, and she spat dirt from her rear end as we barreled down the drive. My fingers clutched the wheel until they hurt.
Neither of us spoke as the sun crested the tips of the white-capped mountains far into the distance. But the noise was deafening. The roar of Betty’s engine matched the sound of rushing blood in my ears. And the chink of stones on Betty’s undercarriage and her tires as they ground against the earth—it was a symphony of dread.
“There!” I pointed, almost bouncing in my seat at the sight, just as we turned a bend over a small hill in the drive, we could see it. The long shape of a wooden barn—withered and run down—but with no windows that I could see and a green tin roof that looked like it was newer than the original structure. Shelter. It was shelter from the sun.
I whooped and Frost leaned over and took hold of my face, planting a rough kiss on my cheek before the creaking groan of his door opening stole my attention and I watched him—a blur of dark and light as he ran full-tilt to the structure just as the sun came over the hills and blinded me with its piercing amber light.
9
There were a few holes and cracks in the wooden walls of the old barn, but it did a decent job of blacking out the sunlight, and it looked to be abandoned so that was a bonus. There were stacks and mounds of hay in an otherwise empty stall. The dry, pale-yellow straws made an additional barrier—blocking Frost from the touch of even the smallest ray.
He assured me he wouldn’t burst into flames if a bolt of sunlight grazed him—he’d have to be standing in full sunlight for that, and even then, the whole process would take a few minutes.
“Hurts like a bitch, though,” he said, and I saw where the sun had got him on his neck, just above his collar. He’d been fast in getting to safety, but not fast enough to avoid the rise of the sun entirely. The flesh on his neck was red, raised, and angry. Bits of it blackened as though scorched by the touch of flame. It was already starting to heal, though.
If he were an older vamp, the wound would’ve closed up and healed within minutes, even seconds.
“Looks like it,” I said, wincing. “I’m so sorry, Frost,” I added in a rush.
After I’d hopped out of the truck and followed him inside the barn, I’d buried myself in his chest, wrapping my arms tight around him like vises. Afraid if I let go, he would disappear. I’d almost lost him, and the terror I felt had been more real than anything I’d felt since that day ten years ago.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been properly scared. Fuck, I’d forgotten what that felt like. It was a terrible, bone-wracking, heart-stopping, gut-wrenching feeling I never wanted to repeat.
Frost let me hold him like that for a while before he’d pulled away, whispering to me in a soft voice. “I’m fine.”
We’d been sitting in the hay for nearing an hour, and he’d barely spoken. Guilt weighed on me for what I’d done I didn’t know what to say. I almost got him killed.
Mom always said I’d be death of someone someday. She’d meant it as a joke. But…what if she was right?
“I’m fine,” he said again. “Quit apologizing.”
I dropped my head. “I think I have a first-aid kit in the—”
“Did you compel that cop, Rose?”
The question caught me so off guard, it took a moment for me to process it. Our little encounter with the police officer felt like it happened ages ago. I’d already pretty much forgotten about it.
Frost grabbed my hand, trying to pull my attention—to make me look at him. When I did, I found fire in his gaze. His nostrils flared. “Did you?”
I licked my cracked lips, wishing I’d had water in the truck instead of coffee all night. Why did he seem so pissed about this? “Yeah,” I said, raising a brow at him. He really hadn’t known. When he didn’t say anything right away, I thought maybe he’d somehow figured it out.
I’d been really bad at it back when we were kids, but he had to have noticed how easy it was for me to convince people to do what I wanted. But not him—or the guys. I never used it on them—at least not on purpose.
I always wondered if my kiss with Blake when I was thirteen and he was fifteen was a product of my compulsion, though. I’d told him to do it. It wasn’t a command—I hadn’t meant it like that. I just…wanted him to. We were laying on his trampoline—just the two of us—staring up at the sky. When he looked at me—at my lips—I thought he wanted to, so I gave him permission.
But he never kissed me again after that and I always wondered…
“Shit, Rose. How—” he started, but stopped himself, confused and trying to work out the puzzle in his head. To solve the mystery that was Rose Ward.
Good fucking luck…
Even I hadn’t figured it out.
“But you’re human. How is that possible?”
“Beats me,” I sighed.
“Are you sure you’re hu—”
“Yes,” I snapped. “I’m sure.”
Frost recoiled from my tone. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just asking.”
“Maybe that’s why Raphael wants—” me murmured to himself, as though he’d finally worked out the solution to another problem he’d been trying to figure out.
I cocked my head. “Who’s Raphael?”
Frost jerked his head to the right—meeting my gaze. Relaxed his shoulders and slumped against the pile of hay. “No one,” he said. “Just a friend.”
From his sudden inability to look me in the eye, I knew I’d get no more out of him on the subject. Not right now, anyway. I made a mental note to ask him about it again later. Committing the name Raphael to memory.
A few beat
s of silence later, I caught Frost staring in a longing sort of way at my jugular and shivered. “Um, Frost,” I said, snapping my fingers in front of his face. “When’s the last time you fed?”
Blinking rapidly, he cast his gaze away from me and made a choked, clearing sound in his throat. His voice was hoarse when he said. “A few days.”
“That wasn’t good.”
“I can manage it.”
But I could tell he was straining. The color that’d been in his cheeks when I first saw him—that made me think he was human—was gone. His pallor was pale and sickly. And the hoarseness in his voice and vein bulging from his neck told me he was near parched and his control was waning.
“It’s just the sunlight,” he said, jabbing a finger toward his neck. “It weakened me. And when I’m weakened—”
“You need to feed to recover.”
I didn’t pretend to have a vast wealth of knowledge about the workings of vampires or any of the supernatural species. It wasn’t as though you could google that sort of thing, and I never let one live long enough to have this sort of conversation.
But I was good at putting two and two together. Always able to connect dots, even if they were miles apart.
Frost nodded. “Yep. Basically.”
“How much longer can you wait?” I asked him—all business now. There was a problem—albeit a problem I never foresaw myself having to deal with—that needed solving. I may have to feed a vampire. The thought of letting Frost bite me was so revolting it made me want to barf. But, if I had to, I could hunt him down an animal. Or compel some blood from the nearest hospital.
“The truth,” I said before he answered me. “How long?”
“I won’t hurt you—no matter how long I have to wait,” he growled, and I saw from the hardness in his eyes and the set of his jaw that he believed it.
“I believe you,” I told him earnestly, and I did. “But I’m not particularly worried about you attacking me Frost. I can defend myself. I’m worried about other people.”
