by L. Danvers
“What’s going on?” I asked her, still not fully awake yet.
“I think I’ve figured it out.”
I balled my hand into a fist and rubbed my eye, letting out a yawn. “Figured what out?”
“How to undo compulsion.”
That was enough to snap me out of my sleepy haze. Perking up, I asked, “Really?”
“I think so. Do you want to try?”
A thrill swept through my body. Of course I wanted to try. All I’d wanted for so long was to have answers as to how I got in Crescent Cape in the first place. I knew the memories wouldn’t be pleasant, that maybe it had been some small mercy that they’d been erased. But still, I needed to know the truth. After everything I’d been through, I deserved that much.
I sat up straight and smoothed out my tangled brown hair before tossing it behind my shoulder. Letting out a heavy breath, I nodded. “I’m ready.”
A flicker of a smile danced across Grace’s face, and she gently pressed her fingertips against my temples. Reading from the grimoire, she recited a spell. My nerves hummed with anticipation. It seemed like the spell went on forever, and I had no idea what she was saying because it was all in some ancient tongue—Latin, I guessed.
Suddenly, her chin dipped ever-so-slightly, like the spell itself was causing her strain.
And then, in a flash, memories crashed over me like roaring waves.
In my mind’s eye, I saw everything.
My family and I always spent the summertime traveling. Sometimes we went to exotic places, like the white-sand beaches of Hawaii or the ever-bustling New York City. But on this particular occasion, they’d decided to take me somewhere totally different. They’d discovered a picturesque spot along the Appalachian Mountains. My father had been an Eagle Scout and had fond memories of hiking the trail as a boy. So, they’d rented a quaint little cabin in the middle of nowhere, which offered the most incredible views. And we’d come across so many animals—deer and moose, mostly. I remembered being scared that we would encounter a bear, but my father promised I had nothing to worry about.
We spent the first day at the lake, kayaking and picnicking. I’d given my parents a hard time that morning. I wanted to go back to the cabin and watch cartoons. My mother grew frustrated, but my father calmly explained to me that I had two choices: I could see the world and experience its wonder for myself, or I could watch others experience life through a little screen.
I was only eight, but I understood.
The second day of our trip had been spent hiking and listening to wild stories of my dad’s younger days. Being out in nature brought out a totally different side of him. He seemed more alive than ever. Like our surroundings had unlocked some secret part of him that had been longing to be set free.
That evening, he wanted to give me the experience of an old-fashioned campfire. At his request, my mother and I helped him gather wood. We had ventured a good distance away from the house, and twilight was upon us. My mother kept telling him we should head back while we had enough light, but he insisted we had plenty of time.
My arms were filled with twigs—my parents were carrying the larger branches. We were getting ready to head back toward the cabin when a pile of leaves behind me gave a rustle. I whirled around so fast that the leaves were still in the air, falling back to the earth. My shoulders tensed. My throat tightened. I knew in my gut I was not alone. That there was some animal nearby. “Daddy?” I cried out, voice trembling.
I heard him make a sound that was cut way too short, and my mother’s scream echoed into the night. But soon she fell silent.
I was too afraid to move, but I knew I had to. I was alone in the woods. I had to find them.
Carefully, I slinked between the trees, glancing over my shoulder at each step, following the unplaceable sounds until they grew louder and louder.
Finally, I saw it. No. Him. A man. He had my mother in his arms. She was limp, eyes glossed over, staring out into the abyss. He was eating her.
His mouth was at her throat.
Horrified, I tried looking away, but then I saw my father’s body, dead on the ground. His neck was covered in blood, which trickled from two puncture wounds.
I let out a blood-curdling scream, and the monstrous man turned around.
As soon as our eyes met, he dropped my mother’s body to the ground.
“Stop!” I screamed, pulling Grace’s fingers away from my forehead.
“What?” she pressed. “Did it work? What did you see?”
My cheeks went warm, my blood on fire. The heat rushed toward my eyes, which pooled with tears. I couldn’t hold them back.
I buried my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably.
Grace rubbed my back, trying to comfort me. “Danielle, what’s going on? Tell me, what did you see?”
Between gasps for air, I managed to get the words out. “Aiden,” I cried. “I saw Aiden.”
Julian
Something was very wrong. I jumped out of bed, grabbed the black T-shirt I’d left crumpled on the floor and slipped it on. Heart pounding, I opened the door and went down the hall, following the sounds of Danielle’s cries.
I paused outside of the girls’ room, my acute hearing picking up on their conversation. Grace was trying to calm Danielle down, but the more she talked, the harder Danielle sobbed.
“I hate him,” Danielle said between gasps.
“Tell me what happened,” Grace said.
She could hardly force out the words. “He... he killed them. Right in front of me.”
I knew at once that she was referring to Aiden. Danielle knew the truth... but how?
My chest tightened at the sound of her cries, making me feel as if my own heart was being wrung dry.
A strange feeling swept through me. Faint, but undeniably there.
Guilt.
I didn’t know how she knew what Aiden had done. But I was the one who had brought her into this. I was the one who had found her, the one who had set up the entire competition so that she would bring out the humanity in my brother... not realizing at the time that she might just bring out the humanity in me.
I knew what I had to do.
I gave their bedroom door a few knocks, and I heard Grace frantically urging Danielle to calm down. There was some shuffling, and finally, Grace called out that I could let myself in. I opened the door and found the two girls sitting cross-legged on the bed. Danielle’s eyes were puffy and her cheeks were scarlet. Grace forced a smile, obviously trying to act as if everything was fine.
I bit down, clenching my jaw so tight that it ached, trying to fight the urge to sweep Danielle’s hair away from her cheek and hold her close, calming her.
I could play this two ways: pretend I knew nothing or get to the heart of the matter.
“She knows,” I said, choosing the latter.
Grace’s countenance transformed into horror. She visibly gulped before stealing a glance at Danielle. Looking back at me, she nodded.
“Can I have a minute with her? Alone?”
Danielle shot daggers at me with her eyes, rage overwhelming her senses. “Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of her,” she spat.
“Alright,” I said, giving a gentle bow of my head. I paused for a second, bracing myself for what I was about to do. The easiest thing in the world would have been for me to fuel her hatred for my brother. But as much as it killed me, I knew she cared for him. I hated to admit it, but I was falling for this girl. I longed to have her for myself. But not like this. If she was ever going to be mine, I wanted it to be because she chose me. Not because she wanted to spite Aiden.
Stepping closer, I said, “I want you to know that you are the best thing that ever happened to my brother. Until the day the two of you first met all of those years ago, he was like a rabid animal. He was a predator, and he killed without mercy. But after nearly a thousand years of giving into his unquenchable thirst, he saw you—and everything changed. He gave up feeding from the vein
, something unthinkable for his kind. And he did everything he could to make those around him give it up, too—though his efforts proved to be futile. But believe me, he tried. In the ten years since,” I said, my voice hitching, “the incident, Aiden has been the best version of himself that I’ve ever seen. And that’s because of you.”
She didn’t so much as blink. “He’s a monster.”
“Was a monster,” I corrected her. “If you want to hate someone, you should hate me. I’m the one that created The Choosing Ceremony, and I handpicked you to take part—knowing the connection you and Aiden had. He was always meant to choose you. It was you, Danielle. It was always you.”
She didn’t seem fazed by the revelation. She was clever—perhaps she’d already figured as much.
I don’t know what kind of reaction I was hoping for. But I didn’t get it.
“How did you find out?” I asked.
A flicker of panic flashed across the girls’ eyes. They said nothing.
It was times like this that I wished I had the power of compulsion. Sure, I had other means of getting information out of people. But Danielle was already distraught, and I didn’t want to make things worse.
Still, I wanted answers.
Taking another step closer, I repeated the question. Again, I was met with silence, but Grace was sitting cross-legged with her weight on her hands that were propped behind her, and I noticed one of her fingers twitch. The twitch drew my eyes that direction, and I spotted something peeking out from beneath a sheet.
“What’s that?” I asked, lifting my chin.
Julian
Grace swallowed hard, yet she still said nothing.
Growing frustrated, I marched over and threw the sheet back. My brows knit in confusion, and I took a step back, dividing looks between the girls. “What are you doing with a grimoire?” I growled.
It didn’t take a thousand years’ practice of reading people to figure it out. Grace immediately diverted her eyes, and it all made sense. But how had a witch been right under my nose? And how could she have been a blood slave if she possessed magic? Witch’s blood was known to wreak havoc on vampires, and no incidents had been reported.
“You’re a witch,” I said coolly, yet eying her with suspicion.
She pressed her lips into a hard line as if actively trying to keep from speaking with me.
“How is that possible?” I insisted. “You’re a blood slave. Someone would have known.”
She didn’t answer, but Danielle did. “She didn’t even know until a month ago.”
At that, I straightened. I should have been relieved, because the explanation did make sense. If her powers had only recently awakened, perhaps the magic within her hadn’t grown strong enough yet for vampires to reject her blood. And yet... this... this girl had managed to undo compulsion—which had been done by a blood heir, no less. I tried to conceal my thoughts, but inside, my head was spinning. If Grace had only discovered her powers a month ago and already possessed such skill in spells, she might be the most powerful witch since Claudia herself.
“Can you give us some space, please?” Danielle insisted, her eyelids still pink and puffy from crying. “I need some time to process all of this.”
Giving a gentle bow of my head, I said, “Of course. But first—Grace, can I speak with you privately?”
Her jaw clenched at my request, forming a harsh line across her cheek. She exchanged a glance with Danielle, who met her gaze with a shrug. Thankfully, Grace relented and joined me downstairs to have a little chat.
She plopped herself down on the leather couch, propping her elbow on the armrest, cradling her chin in her hand. “Well?” she said.
I sat down in the recliner and leaned back, pressing my fingertips against one another as I pondered what I was about to ask of her. Part of me wondered if I was doing the right thing. But Danielle was so upset. She didn’t deserve to spend her days in such torment—the agony of which wouldn’t weaken with time. Not after the horrors she’d seen. “I want you to undo the spell.”
Grace raised her thin eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“The one you cast on Danielle. Look at her. She’s miserable.”
Grace crossed her arms, cheeks reddening. “She’s pissed because she knows the truth about what your demented brother did to her and her family. He murdered them, knew good and well what he’d done, and then played with her heart. If you ask me, Aiden’s even worse than you.”
A chuckle escaped me. “It’s all relative, I suppose. But Grace, look at what the truth is doing to her. Do you really think she’s better off for knowing what happened?”
“She was falling for the guy who kidnapped her!”
I glanced upstairs, pressing my fingers to my lips, reminding her to keep it down. “Believe me, I know the bad in Aiden better than anyone. But trust me when I say he is not the same man. And that’s because of her.”
“I won’t do it.”
I threatened her with a look.
“What are you going to do? Kill me? Go ahead. It won’t undo Danielle’s compulsion. And then she’ll hate you for killing her best friend. You’ll be just like Aiden then. Isn’t that what you want?”
It took all the willpower I had to ignore her insolence. But the witch had a point.
If I was going to get her cooperation, I had to offer her something she couldn’t refuse. “Do this for me, and I will personally guarantee both of your freedom when this is all over.”
Grace’s eyes lit with intrigue at the proposition, clearly considering my offer. She fiddled with the leather armrest, subconsciously picking at the end. “Do you swear it? You’ll let the two of us go? No strings attached?”
I dipped my chin, bowing my head in agreement. “As soon as it’s safe.” It was a painful deal to make, but I wanted so badly for Danielle to be happy. And knowing what she knew... she could never be at peace. The most merciful thing to do would be to remove the memories again and then let her go. Aiden would understand. If anything, he’d want the same.
Clearing my throat, I added, “But there is one more thing.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Of course there is.”
“You have to make yourself forget, too.”
She shifted uneasily in her seat. “Remove my own memories? Why?”
“Because I’m not an idiot. Otherwise, after you redo the compulsion, you’ll tell her everything.”
I could tell she wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but she didn’t raise any arguments.
I extended my hand. “Do we have a deal, Grace?”
She hesitated at first, but then she took my hand and shook it. “For our freedom, we have a deal.”
What came next was excruciating to watch, but I had to make sure Grace carried through on her promise.
Danielle was horrified at the thought of being ripped of her memories once again, but Grace pleaded with her to understand that she was doing this to help her.
At first, I questioned whether I’d made the right call. Perhaps I should have let Danielle decide for herself. But I was confident I was doing the right thing. I was doing this to protect her from her pain. And, in some small way, I was also doing this to protect my brother. Her hatred of him would be his undoing.
Danielle buried her head in her hands, shaking her head as tears raced down her cheeks. She glanced up at me, eyes begging. “Why are you doing this to me?”
I gulped.
I didn’t know how or why she had such a strong hold over me, but I decided then and there to tell her the truth. Not the truth I had been telling myself, but the real answer—the one I was both embarrassed and terrified to admit.
She would forget soon anyway. This would be my only chance to ever tell her.
My face relaxed, and I walked toward her and sat beside her on the bed. Grace was shooting daggers at me with her eyes, but I wasn’t here for Grace. I was here for Danielle.
I reached out for her hand, and my heart quickened. To my surprise, she didn’t jerk
it away. Perhaps she was too confused to react. Nevertheless, it gave me the strength to continue. “You asked why I’m doing this to you, Danielle, but that’s the wrong question. I’m not doing this to you, I’m doing this for you.”
She lifted her gaze, looking me dead-on. “Alright then,” she said between sniffles, “why are you doing this for me?”
“Because, despite all better judgment, I care for you, Danielle. And I don’t think I’m strong enough to watch you suffer like this.”
Her eyes darted back and forth, trying to make sense of my confession.
“I have lived long enough,” I continued, “to know that this torment will not pass or lessen with time. Yes, you have answers. But you also now carry the burden of a memory that no one should have to bear.”
Her jaw tensed. “If you really cared for me, you’d give me a choice in the matter. Not make my decisions for me.”
I drew my lower lip between my teeth, nodding in agreement. “You’re right.”
She sat up straighter. “Really?”
“Really. It’s your choice, Danielle. You can live out your days tormented by the truth, or you can remove the memories that pain you.”
“But I’ll keep searching for answers.”
“Yes,” I said, a laugh escaping my lips, because it was true. This curious and persistent girl would never give up. “You will. But at least you’ll have a chance at peace.”
Her lips quivered as she agonized over what to do. She was still allowing me to hold her hand—whether she realized it or not, I wasn’t sure. I wanted more than anything to comfort her. To wrap her in my arms and protect her from her pain. But she was right. This wasn’t my decision to make. And I had only just realized that I cared for her too deeply to rob her of that choice.
Finally, she looked at me again. “You really believe this is for the best?”
I bowed my head. “I do.”
She gave my hand a squeeze before releasing it. Then, she shifted her attention to Grace. Nodding, as if to reassure herself, she said, “Do it. Take the memories, take the pain. Take it all away.”