by Tanith Frost
I don’t answer right away.
It’s more of the same, really. Assignments. Trouble. Deception. Blood on my hands. Me choosing my allies as I see fit, breaking the rules in the name of something more important. Pissing everyone off along the way, more likely than not. Struggling to survive.
Hiding the true extent of my gifts and powers. Not getting the respect I want from everyone, but being accepted by those who really matter to me. My allies. My friends.
Fuck everyone else. This is perfect.
I grin. “When do I start?”
“Officially? Never. You will have that quiet office job I mentioned, and for now, no one needs to know anything else. But first, there’s one loose end we need cleared up.” She looks away and draws a long breath.
“Miranda?”
“I know who betrayed us to Lachlan.” Her voice drops to a rough whisper. “I want it taken care of quietly. No one else needs to know who, but I want to know why. And I want to see justice done without the pain and hassle of the trial he’d by rights have, given his status within the clan.”
“Who?”
Miranda locks her gaze onto mine. “Will you do it?”
My first assignment and she’s asking for murder.
Not as if my hands aren’t already filthy, I guess. It’s as good a test case as any to see whether this will work out.
I nod. “Tell me.”
36
A late summer breeze draws filmy white curtains out the window of the second-floor apartment, then blows them back in. The wind does little to cut the haze of humidity that’s settled over this busy lakeside community, but even this small relief likely feels like a blessing to anyone inside.
Or a necessity. He wouldn’t have risked leaving the window open if he didn’t need to.
I scale the garbage container that stands against the wall and climb up to a balcony three apartments down from my target. This one’s littered with brightly coloured toys, the next with sickly tomato plants; I stick to the railings and creep my way across.
The space between this balcony and the next is larger, but I only have to make it to the bedroom window in the gap. I’ve been training for this over my months of searching, preparing myself with the new set of skills my job requires of me. I have become a shadow, silent and graceful, as in tune with my body as I am with my gifts.
I’m not perfect yet. My fingers slip, and my boot scrapes against the concrete wall of the building as I grasp the window ledge and haul myself up. I pause to listen. The television in the next room goes silent.
He’s here.
I could have had someone get me daylight serum and proper equipment last time I was in Maelstrom, come during the day, and finished him off, then. I didn’t. I don’t want a fight, but I do want to give him a chance to face his end with awareness and dignity.
And I want answers.
I haul myself up and over the window ledge into a sparsely furnished bedroom. I don’t need to stop to look around, save to make sure I’m the only one in the room. This isn’t my first visit to his apartment. The neatly made double bed is fake and opens to reveal a coffin underneath. The white chenille bedspread is an interesting touch. Looks like an old woman’s apartment.
Not as interesting as the fact that he’s hiding out squarely in Tempest’s territory, though. He’s keeping away from the large centres of vampire activity, but still.
I move slowly, testing each step for floorboards that might creak. There’s nothing. I guess it doesn’t matter, anyway. He knows I’m here.
He’s sitting in a threadbare armchair when I step into the living room, facing the muted TV, his back to me.
“Good evening, Clark.”
He turns slowly. The scars on his face have healed almost completely. “I knew you’d come eventually.” He almost sounds relieved.
“Did you? You certainly didn’t make it easy for me to find you.”
“Large clans do make it easier to disappear. And I’ve been careful. I doubt anyone’s noticed me here.” He begins to stand, but at a sharp look from me, sinks back into the chair. “I suppose it would have been harder if things here weren’t such a mess.”
“Chaos is how I heard it.” I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. It’s all fake, this casual posture. I’m alert to every noise, movement, and energy in the area. But I don’t want him to panic. “The word revolution came up. I guess no one had much patience for the aristocracy once the king fell?”
He doesn’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. These aren’t the answers I’m here for. The fate of Tempest’s vampires is for the heads of other clans to decide, and the fact that Lachlan apparently didn’t give a damn what would happen to them in the event of his downfall is decidedly not my problem.
The fact that Clark is here in their territory, however, is.
“You could have gone anywhere else,” I say.
“I thought about it. I’d wanted to be elsewhere if all had gone as planned, but this turmoil offered protection for a lone vampire. I knew those who remained in power here would close down their borders. I’d be trapped inside, but Miranda would be kept out.”
“And so far she has. Not a bad plan, I suppose.” I look around, taking in the bare white walls, the cheap cabinets in the unused kitchen, the faded lines that make the colours on the muted television choppy and dull behind the glare-filtering screen Clark has set up in front of it. “Bit of a step down for you, though. Was it worth it?”
He leans forward. I tense, ready for him to pull out a weapon, but he rests his chin on his hands. “I wanted it to be. I thought…” He closes his eyes for a second. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. She did.” I don’t have to say her name. Clark winces. “It was through process of elimination, I guess. There were a limited number of vampires who knew about Maelstrom’s back door, most of whom were there when Tempest broke in. It could have been you, Trent, Raymond, Daniel… But only you and Daniel were there and then got out. You knew Miranda’s location the night Lachlan’s soldiers attacked at the old rift, and I assume you gave him her phone number. And you knew what Odette was capable of. Maybe even what she was doing for us.” I step closer. “I never did figure out whether someone from Tempest saw her and took that shot, or whether it was you. You must have had a good view of things from the roof of that church.”
Clark leans back in the chair again but doesn’t look at me. “Daniel knew just as much. And he’s a better shot than I am.”
“Sure. He was a suspect. So was I.” The TV is still muted, but the picture is distracting. I move behind the chair, pick up the remote, and turn off the TV. “But you disappeared. And here we are. You have to admit it makes you look a little guilty.”
He smiles sadly. “She’s had you chasing a ghost for the past eight months?”
“I think she hoped that’s what I was chasing.” I set the remote on the table and turn to him. “She trusted you above almost all others. It must have broken her heart to think you’d betrayed her.”
I won’t give him more than that. He doesn’t deserve to know how her voice trembled as she spoke his name and laid out her suspicions, how she said it would be better if he had fallen in battle, how she still—even knowing what he’d done—didn’t want him hauled back to Maelstrom to have his crimes exposed to the clan.
How she left his name on the list of fallen heroes. I guess he is, in a way. He just didn’t fall in the same way as the others.
“What was the plan, Clark? You told me she should have faked her own demise and run away with you. Did you think she would if Maelstrom fell? That the two of you would disappear into the sunset?” I take a step closer, and he leans back in his chair.
He grimaces, pulling the shadows of his scars tight. “I was trying to save her.”
“She didn’t need saving.” My fists clench tight at my sides. “You’d have known that if you’d asked her.”
“She did, though. She just couldn’t see it. So yes. I thought a fr
esh start was better for everyone, given the direction I saw things heading in Maelstrom. She was too proud to step down. Lachlan was going to win no matter what, but I knew she wouldn’t give up until things were hopeless.”
“So you gave up the rest of Maelstrom.”
It wasn’t a question, but he nods. “It would have been worth it to give her a chance to start over.”
“You thought you could convince her to be something less, is that it? Get her to give up her position, lower herself to your level?” I’m itching to slap him, but I hold back. Still, I don’t try to keep the contempt out of my voice. “You’re pathetic. She deserved better.”
“Maybe. I did what I thought was right, same as you.” He leans back in his chair. “What’s it to be, then, after my long years of faithful service? A stake to the heart?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out a syringe.
He swallows hard. “You’ve got your answers. I’m no danger to her or Maelstrom now. No one would know if you left me with a stern warning. I can disappear among the rogues and rebels of Tempest. She never has to find out.”
“I know.”
I step forward, but he slides sideways, surprisingly quick, lunging toward the end table beside the couch. I guess he’s feeding well here, one way or another. He pulls the drawer out and grabs the gun.
I raise my hands to shoulder height as he aims the pistol at my head.
“Drop the needle,” he orders.
I step closer.
He doesn’t hesitate before he pulls the trigger. The gun lets out a dull click, and I smile.
I am a shadow, a ghost. I left no visible evidence of my previous visit. And if I learned anything from Lachlan, it was to stay one step ahead of my enemies.
Clark’s eyes widen. He drops the gun and turns to run for the door.
I’m on him before he’s taken three steps, jabbing the needle through the tough skin of his throat. He throws himself backward, pinning me against the wall, but it only takes a second for me to depress the plunger.
He slumps to the floor, twisting onto his back.
“Tell her I’m—” he whispers. His eyes close.
I don’t know what he is. I don’t particularly care. And in just a few more seconds, he’s nothing at all.
Two nights later, I slip my key into the lock on the townhouse’s front door. I repainted it the last time I was back in town. The cherry red pleases me, and I think Trixie would have liked it. Keeping up her old habit seems like a fitting memorial.
I wonder where she would have stood on all of this if things had gone differently with the rogue situation. Trixie was a creature of the void through and through, but she saw the value of colour and variety. Maybe she’d have seen the beauty that I do in powers and energies that aren’t like our own.
I’ll never know. The world we exist in is not a forgiving one, and I know how lucky I am to have had so many second chances.
The house is quiet and dark. I lock the door behind me and drop my duffle bag inside the door, then climb the stairs, stretching out muscles desperate for movement after long nights of driving home.
I think I’m going to enjoy my new job, whatever it brings, but coming back at the end of assignments will be what makes it worthwhile.
I glance into Trixie’s old room as a black and white flash darts beneath the bed.
“Glad to see you, too,” I say, speaking only to the tail that sticks out from under the quilt.
Imogen has been spending enough time elsewhere that it didn’t make sense for her to keep a house, and it’s no trouble to let her stay here when she’s back in town. I don’t know where she goes or what she does on these nights when she’s in our world but out of the house. I guess maybe she’ll tell me someday if I earn that honour.
And Rory will warm to me within a few days. He always does eventually, but overcoming instincts can take some time.
A single rose rests on my bed—deep crimson, but in the thin nighttime light from the crack between the curtains, its heart looks black.
I step forward as soft music fills the air, the crackling sounds of a record on the turntable in the hallway. Seconds later, strong arms slip around me from behind. I lean back, melting into the solid physical presence I’ve missed so much.
“Good morning, stranger,” he murmurs, lips brushing against my ear. “May I have this dance?”
“Finally. I thought you’d never ask.” I turn and kiss him, long and deep. I try not to let him be a distraction when I’m away—regretting what I’m missing out on only holds me back from what I’m experiencing—but there’s always a part of me that longs for this connection with him.
The house isn’t my home. Daniel is.
He takes me in his arms, and I let him lead. I have no idea how to dance properly—it wasn’t exactly part of my training.
I glance over my shoulder at the rose. “How did you know I’d be back tonight?”
One corner of his mouth curves upward. “I didn’t. There’s been a flower there for weeks. I just change it when it dies. I knew you’d be back sometime—didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten you.”
I hold him close, my cheek pressed against his chest.
The scar on my side warms. It hasn’t faded at all yet—Gideon hasn’t asked anything of me. But every so often, it seems, he gives the leash a tug to remind me.
As if I could forget.
Daniel’s mark is gone. He hasn’t told me what he did to get rid of it, and I haven’t asked.
“Is it done?” Daniel asks, his voice rumbling in his chest.
“Yeah. I found him. Miranda knows. I guess no one else needs to.”
There are some secrets we share, including my hunt for Clark. Daniel’s been a valuable resource for me, given his connections and position.
Speaking of connections and positions…
I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close, planting slow kisses at the edge of his lips, across his cheek, down his neck. The dance stops though the music goes on. “I’ve missed you.”
“Really? I hardly noticed you were gone.”
I pinch him hard under the arm, eliciting a playful growl before he tosses me on the bed, crushing the rose that proves what a liar he is.
Soon everything is a blur—arms, hands, clothing hitting the floor, thorns scratching my back, skin on skin.
My existence as a vampire is nothing like what I once imagined it would be. I have learned the beauty of darkness and made it my strength. I am a monster, powerful and bloodthirsty and unashamed of any part of what I am. I am an outsider, made fearsome by powers and gifts that others whisper about when I enter the club to feed.
I am everything I once feared embracing, and it is here that I have found myself. I have lost so much—my life, my soul, my certainty about the world and my place in it. But I have gained so much more.
Knowledge. Purpose. Freedom.
Daniel sinks his fangs deep into my shoulder, bringing pain and the pleasure of his poison. I rake my nails down his back, punishing him, begging for more.
All of this could end tomorrow. Each night brings new dangers, and I can’t know what lies ahead. But the fragility of what I’ve built only makes it more precious.
I lose myself to sensation and emotion, ashamed of neither lust nor greed. I don’t mourn the past. Nor do I fear the future.
Because this, here and now, is all the heaven I need.
* * *
The End
Author’s Note
So here we are. We’ve reached the end of Aviva’s story, at least for now. I hope you’ve had as much fun as I have on this journey, that you’ve been on the edge of your seat and lost sleep, that you’ve laughed and maybe even cried with me.
Thank you for your support of this series. Readers like you make it possible for me to keep writing, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your purchases, your reviews, and your recommendations to other readers.
If you’d like to keep up to date on
future projects, giveaways, and other fun stuff, visit www.tanithfrost.com and sign up for my newsletter. I only send mail when I’ve got something good to share with you, and it’s the best way to stay in touch.
Thank you again.
* * *
-Tanith
Acknowledgments
I know I’ve said this before, but I really couldn’t do all of this on my own. Storytelling is a thrilling but lonely business, and I’ve relied on the support and expertise of so many people along the way.
Thank you to Shannon Andrews for being the person who reads my early drafts as they come and encourages me to keep going when my brain just doesn’t want to work; to Laura Fischer and Kristina Sprague for being my cheerleaders and early readers; and to the fabulous author Krista Walsh for not only reading and catching my errors, but for being the shoulder I cry on when it all gets to be too much.
Special thanks to Maggie Morris for your keen edits and encouraging words. Your love for these characters and dedication to the Immortal Soulless series were beyond anything I expected.
Jessica Allain, thank you for once again giving my story a beautiful cover, and for always making time for the series.
To my family, thank you for your patience and support as I’ve taken this unexpected journey into the darker side of things. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I hope I’ve made you proud.
Also by Tanith Frost
The Immortal Soulless Series
Resurrection
Sanctuary
Atonement
Covenant
Temptation
Revelation
Salvation
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For more information on future releases or to sign up for Tanith’s newsletter, visit tanithfrost.com