Dark Spell

by Danielle Rose

  When the front door crashes open, I jerk upright, muscles tight. My body aches at the sudden jolt, but I land on my feet. The pain resonating from my lower back, where I greeted the frozen earth far too many times tonight, is reaching ear-piercing volumes, but I try to ignore it. I do not want the others to witness just how injured I actually am.

  As I slowly trudge to greet our visitors, wincing with each step, the other vampires are already making their way toward the foyer. Someone shuffles inside, and I struggle to see who has come in. I suck in a sharp breath when I try to stand on my tiptoes. The pain radiates down my legs, and it offers no better view. The wall of vampires, all with their backs to me, are impeding my vision, and I have just about had enough of it.

  Finally, I push through and find Jeremiah, bloody and burned, leaning against the adjacent wall, and Hikari, seemingly as badly wounded but still offering support to her fallen brethren. Jeremiah attempts to stand upright, only succeeding in falling against Hikari, his towering frame comical beside her tiny stature.

  I watch, unmoving, as the others rush to their sides, scrambling to usher their fallen comrades into the parlor, where they can hopefully rest. Amicia disappears down the hall, running toward the kitchen. In a flash, she is gone, my mortal eyes unable to keep up with her blurry image.

  By the time Jeremiah and Hikari are seated, she has returned with an armful of blood bags. Not bothering to warm them in a mug, Amicia rips open the tiny plastic bags with her teeth before she guides the flowing crimson liquid into Jeremiah’s mouth. Malik mimics Amicia’s actions, feeding Hikari.

  The wounded vampires slurp down heaps of blood, the noise echoing through the entire manor, and my blood runs cold. My stomach churns at the sight of the thick, juicy substance, and bile works its way into my throat. When their mouths overflow and blood seeps down their chins, splattering on their chests, I groan. Turning away, I jerk around in my seat, grunting at the flash of pain behind my eyes. I pray my face does not betray how startlingly different I truly am now.

  When I finally regain my composure, I look up to find Jasik watching me. I am not sure how long he was watching me, but now, he stares intently, his face lacking emotion. Behind his blazing crimson irises, I am certain he realizes just how serious my condition is. The witches committed a hateful act, and now, I must bear the consequences. In a manor full of vampires, I am mortal. And I am hungry. My stomach growls, reminding me that I reside in a house with a kitchen stocked full of blood, not bagels.

  I frown and look away, not able to maintain eye contact with my possibly former sire. He might not be able to show it, but I feel his pain, his longing, his disbelief. It matches my own agony. And I cannot bear witness to that truth in his eyes. I am too busy dealing with my own roller coaster of emotions.

  When Jeremiah and Hikari finally stop feeding, they have drained at least a dozen blood bags. Exhaling slowly, I dare a peek. The empty bags are piled on the floor, sucked almost completely clean.

  For the first time since the battle, I see the vampires clearly. The devastation of the witches has had far too great a toll on them, and I know it is my fault. We all could have died tonight. Thankfully, both are slowly healing. Their wounds, fresh and raw, are closing. But even though they no longer bleed, I know they are not out of the woods yet.

  Jeremiah wipes his damp forehead dry. Outside, a raging snowstorm is settling upon us, and I cannot help but think the roaring fire is a courtesy to Holland—and to me. I have to keep reminding myself that as a mortal, I need these luxuries I did not require just yesterday. I need food and water and warmth during these cold winter months.

  I shake my head, not wanting to focus on what I need. I meet Hikari’s gaze, and she nods at me. She wants me to believe she is okay, and though I know she will be fine, her desire to assure me of her status carves a hole in my heart. After everything I have done, after sending these vampires to the brink of death far too many times, why do they keep loving me?

  At the sight of her, I suck in a sharp breath and hold it far too long. She must have fought a fire witch, because her clothes bear the marks. The fabric of her jacket is scorched, leaving only threads in some areas. Beneath the worst of it, even her T-shirt is gone, revealing flesh never meant to be bared. Her flesh beneath is bright pink and raw, and she grunts as muscles thread together, slowly healing the damage done. When Malik attempts to get a better look, she winces.

  I grind my teeth, wondering if Liv is to blame. It would take a strong firestarter to do this much damage, but the culprit is not exactly powerful. A truly great fire witch would have summoned enough strength to kill them. Whoever did this is a novice. She is strong enough to harness fire’s power, but she is too weak to kill a vampire. I hate that I have just described Liv. How has it come to this?

  Jeremiah curses, catching my attention. If not worse, his wounds are just as bad as Hikari’s. Both squirm under inspection, crying out when even the lightest touch ventures too close to open wounds.

  Jeremiah tenses when Holland shuffles over to his side.

  Nestling himself beneath his former lover, Holland places Jeremiah’s head on his lap and attempts to soothe his pain. He thumbs circles on his forehead, rubbing away ashy skin with moisture from Jeremiah’s hair.

  I witness the exact moment Jeremiah’s pain is replaced with his desire to love Holland again. I watch as the anger he was holding diminishes, and his eyes soften. The witches have brought tragedy to Darkhaven, and finding something as special as love bloom in the wake of their devastation offers me a renewed hope that I too will be okay.

  But in this moment of clarity, I remember something I never should have forgotten.

  “Where is Will?” I ask, instinctively searching the dark foyer with my gaze like he might emerge from the shadows in some great surprise. I know he is not there, but still, I look for him, hoping he will prove me wrong.

  The room falls silent, and as I slowly return my gaze to the wounded, I fear what the vampires will say next.

  “Ava…” Jeremiah says, breathless. He grunts when he shifts to sit upright, but Holland holds him down. Aiding him, Amicia rests her hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder. He protests momentarily but quickly gives up.

  “Where is he?” I say again, more forcefully.

  “I don’t know,” Jeremiah says calmly.

  “We were separated,” Hikari adds.

  Time slows, the room spinning. I search through my memory, reliving the last moment I saw Will. He willingly charged head-on into the battle, intending to aid both Jeremiah and Hikari. He risked his life to help them, and they just abandoned him the first chance they could?

  “What do you mean? What happened? Where is he?” I ask, voice squeaking. I refuse to believe they would do that. They might not have been on friendly terms, but he was clearly an ally. I cannot believe they would simply leave him behind.

  No one responds, further fueling my anger.

  “We have to find him,” I say. “He needs our help.”

  “No,” Amicia says firmly. She does not wait for the others to respond. With one word, she silences everyone but me.

  “We have to!” I shout.

  She narrows her gaze, angry with my disobedience, but I do not care. After seeing what happened to Jeremiah and Hikari, I need to know that Will is safe, that he made it out and is caring for his wounds somewhere in the woods. Maybe he ventured into Darkhaven. Maybe he was not hurt as badly and he is already leaving town. Wherever he is, I need to know that he is okay, and I need him to know how grateful I am for his help.

  “We do not even know if he is alive, Ava,” Amicia says, and my blood runs cold. I cannot hear the truth of her words. My mind is too clouded by my desperation to save Will from a horrific death—or worse, from a life of torture at the hands of his enemies. If he did not escape, then he needs to be rescued. I have to help him. Can’t they see that?

  “We do not know that,” I whisper.

  “I will not risk sending even one more vampire to fa
ce the witches,” Amicia says. “In our weakened state, they are far too great a threat.”

  “But—”

  “Enough!” Amicia shouts. She stands upright, and in her fury, she silences me, utterly stealing the breath from my lungs. “I will not discuss this anymore. The answer is no. Will is on his own.”

  I look to Jasik, hoping he can see the truth in my wisdom. Yes, we are weak, but we do not need to attack the witches. We can maneuver in darkness, in silence. We can find him and bring him here. There does not need to be confrontation or bloodshed. We are far smarter than the witches can ever claim to be. We can save him. They just have to want it as badly as I do.

  Jasik shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Ava, but we just can’t. We would not survive.”

  My eyes swell, and my heart aches. My throat dries, and a knot forms in my chest, threatening to steal the very beat of my heart.

  “I cannot believe you all. Will helped me when no one else would,” I say pointedly. “He saved me when the witches attacked us in the forest. He refused to leave the battle when Jeremiah and Hikari were left behind. And you just abandon him now?”

  “While I appreciate his efforts, he chose to act willingly,” Amicia says. “We have no ties to him, nor he to us. I will not bind our lives to his mistakes.”

  “So you will just let him die?” I ask, wanting her to say it aloud. I want her to admit she is no different from the very monsters we just escaped.

  “He made his choice the moment he decided to stay,” Amicia says.

  “You mean the moment he stayed and helped your vampires?” I clarify.

  “Yes. He was not asked to help us, and I will not be manipulated into giving my life—or their lives. He owed us nothing. We owe him the same.”

  I shake my head, wanting so desperately to express my disbelief, but words are just out of reach. Understanding I will never be able to convince them that Will is worth saving, I stand, offering one final glance at the vampires I thought I knew, and I leave the room.

  Having escaped to my bedroom in the manor, I now sit with my legs bent to my chest, and I am holding my knees.

  I am in the shower. I already washed away the day’s events, so now I sit on the tile shower floor and watch the water swirl around the drain. I scrubbed myself clean, not stopping until the water ran clear and my skin was pink, inflamed. Now raw, I ache everywhere, and the scorching heat of waterfall lava pouring down upon me is not helping. I wanted to ease the pain and still the aches. I wanted to burn the vision of Will from my mind.

  But I can’t.

  Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. Will stares at me, and he is as sad as I am that the vampires refuse him aid. I understand they feel no obligation to help this stranger, but after everything that has happened, we could use another ally. At the very least, Jeremiah and Hikari should feel responsible. I hate that the thought crosses my mind. I am grateful they are safe, and I would never forgive myself if we lost either one of them. But their luck should not be Will’s downfall. All I have ever wanted is to do what is right, but I am beginning to realize I cannot live in this world and have morals.

  I burrow my face into the crevice between my knees and close my eyes. Only after I have cried my final tears and my eyes are puffy and heavy do I finally stand, turn off the now-cold water, and dry.

  When I am dressed, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The heat from my shower has coated the glass, and the steam distorts my image. I do not know how long I stand here, staring at a girl I do not recognize, but finally, after my feet are numb, I swipe away the vision of her with my palm.

  When I clear the mess and see myself clearly for the first time, I become upset. I hate the picture I see. My eyes are sunken, my frame taut. My skin is pale and yellow, and my lips are cracked and dry. My irises are a muddled brown, and everything from my hair to my bones just hurts. I did not even know it was possible to feel pain so deeply, as if it is rooted in my very soul. I wonder if I will ever get better or if this agony will just become part of my daily life. Eventually, I will not even remember what it was like to feel…alive.

  I curl my lips back and lean against the counter. With my nose just inches away from the glass, I inspect my teeth. Before I showered, I gave them a much-needed brushing, so now, my lack of fangs is even more evident. I run my tongue where they should be, not feeling the familiar protruding points.

  Angry, I shriek, screaming at the mortal in the mirror. I ball my hand into a fist and slam it against the glass. An acute bite works its way through my wrist and radiates up my arm. Sucking in a sharp breath between my teeth, I cradle my wound and curse at the girl unfamiliar to me.

  From the corner of my eye, I swear my reflection is smirking, but when I glance up, meeting her gaze, the smile is gone. It is just me and an unshattered mirror, where I can spend the next fifty years of my life looking at a girl I hate.

  A hard knock startles me, and I jostle through a mound of dirty towels and clothes to reach the bathroom door.

  “Malik?” I say when I see the vampire standing in my room.

  “Please tell me you are not going to do anything stupid,” he says, crossing his arms.

  His gaze drops to the arm I am holding, and I freeze. He was in my bedroom when I had my outburst, so I know he heard me. But this is not why he is here. He was already visiting me when I had my momentary breakdown.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, even though I am fully aware of his intentions. I do not even wait for him to respond.

  Not bothering to dry my hair, the sopping wet mane is dripping down my back, soaking my T-shirt and dripping onto my bedroom floor. I push past the vampire blocking me in and walk toward my bed. As I pull back the covers, intent on getting a good night’s rest, my wrist stings. I gnaw on my lower lip, hoping Malik cannot tell how much it aches and how nervous I am about his midnight visit.

  “Have you been able to access your magic since the spell?” Malik asks.

  I shake my head and sit on my bed.

  “Then this would be an excellent time to remind you of that,” he says.

  “Malik,” I say and run a hand through my tangled hair. “I’m tired, and I do not have time for cryptic chats. Just tell me what is on your mind.”

  He arches a brow. “I thought I was being clear. Let me be more pointed. You have a history, Ava, and it is not a good one. You ignore orders, disobey authority, and have the nasty habit of getting yourself into troubling predicaments.”

  “Yeah, so…” I say, crossing my arms. I hiss when I twist my wrist too far.

  “Are you even sure you are capable of practicing magic again?” Malik asks.

  I shrug.

  “To be blatant, you are by no means in the position to rescue Will on your own,” he says. “I hope you realize that.”

  “I am also not going to let him die because my coven is full of hateful witches,” I say pointedly.

  Malik exhales sharply, grumbling something inaudibly under his breath. He is annoyed with my persistence and inability to conform. He is right—I do push boundaries, but only when things should change.

  “I had a feeling you would do something drastic,” Malik admits.

  “So you thought you would try to talk me out of it?”

  Surprisingly, Malik shakes his head and, as if it physically pains him to speak these particular words, he winces as he mumbles, “I…am considering helping.”

  I inhale sharply, not bothering to hide my shock or my excitement. With Malik on my side, I just might be able to save Will and not die in the process.

  “What did you have in mind?” I ask, giddy and ready to rush to Will’s side.

  “I just need time,” Malik says.

  I narrow my eyes. “I don’t think so.”

  “Ava—”

  “Malik, Will does not have much time!” I shout.

  Malik frowns. “Why do you care so much about this boy? You are asking me to risk everything to save someone I do not even know.”

  �
��I don’t expect you to understand,” I admit.

  “Is it because he is…was a hybrid as well?” Malik asks.

  I shrug and wince at his use of past tense. The wound is still too fresh in my mind and in my heart. “Yes and no. I will not deny that part of me wants to save him for selfish reasons. If I do get my powers back, I might need his guidance.”

  “And the other reason?” Malik asks.

  I sigh. “Because he does not deserve to die, Malik. Not for this. Not for us. And certainly not at the hands of them.”

  Malik exhales slowly, and I watch his chest rise and fall with each breath he takes. The seconds tick by, and I wonder if I haven’t given him enough of a reason to help me. If stealing a victory from the witches isn’t enough motivation, then I don’t know what else to say.

  “One day. That is all I am asking,” Malik says.

  “For what? What will you have tomorrow that you do not have tonight?”

  “A plan.”

  I am silent as I consider my options. Can I risk going alone? Already, I am exhausted, and Malik’s right—I am far too weak to save Will without the help of at least one vampire. If I plan to successfully execute this mission, I will need backup. Malik might be my only option.

  “Just…promise me you will not be reckless in the meantime,” Malik says.

  I roll my eyes at him and yank the covers over my body. I burrow beneath them, bringing them up to my chin in order to keep out the chill. I sink into my pillows and stare at the ceiling.

  This time tomorrow, we will rescue Will. The thought settles into my heart, and I nearly explode from it.

  “You must be smart about this, Ava. You cannot withstand a coven of witches in this state. I promise I will help you, but I have no intention of dying either. We need a plan.”

  I nod. Glancing at him, I say, “Okay. One day.”

  When Malik finally leaves, the room is enveloped by the night, and I quickly fall asleep.