My body is stiff, and my muscles ache as I attempt to stand. My legs feel like jelly, but I find my way to my feet. I teeter, trying to remain upright as I gasp at the sight before me.
The hunters are no longer standing on the front porch. But Amicia is there. Our fearless leader stands alone, casting her gaze upon me with a strange look on her face. She smiles, her eyes glowing with a hint of deviousness. I shudder and break eye contact as I search for my friends.
Both Will and Holland are cradled in the arms of others. Hikari holds her dripping wrist to Will’s mouth, and he drinks greedily. Slowly, he is gaining strength. His wounds are healing.
Jeremiah holds on to Holland with such ferocity, I fear he might break his boyfriend into pieces. I know he is careful, but he is also panicked.
Because Holland is unconscious.
I shriek at the sight of his lifeless body, limp in the hands of his lover. I stumble forward, falling quickly, but I am caught by Jasik, who wraps me in his arms. He holds me closely, his gaze assessing every inch of my body for imperfections, for signs the spell did not heal me.
“It worked,” I whisper, and he pulls me into his arms.
All at once, his tension releases, and he nearly falls weak under my grasp. I never realized how much my situation affected him. Like the other hunters, Jasik is good at hiding his emotions if he chooses to. I guess he didn’t want me to know how much it pained him to see me slowly lose my mind at the hands of black magic.
“Holland,” I whisper into the crevice of Jasik’s neck. I do not hide the pain in my voice. I am terrified to look away, but I cannot simply ignore my dying friend. I cannot just pretend Holland isn’t battling for his life only a few feet away from where I sit now.
“He wanted this,” Jasik says as he pulls away from me. Again, he carefully assesses my reaction. What is he searching for?
I frown. “What do you mean? He wanted what?”
Not bothering to wait for a response, I tear my vision from Jasik to look at Holland, who still has not moved.
Jeremiah is shaking, teetering back and forth as a frail, dying Holland lies still in his lap. Jeremiah says Holland’s name over and over again, begging him to wake up so he can heal him.
I understand his predicament. If Holland is not conscious when Jeremiah heals him, he will become a vampire. If Holland is both conscious and well enough to simply use the benefits of vampire blood, he will be healed and wake again as a witch. The timing must be perfect, and from the look of things, Holland might already be too far gone.
Jeremiah lays Holland’s motionless body on the ground, straightening him quickly, and he begins chest compressions. He is muttering to himself about how Holland needs to be awake, his heart must be beating before he can drink vampire blood. I close my eyes, tears streaming down my face as I replay my own transition.
No one really knows how it works—how one becomes a vampire. No one really knows how some mortals are born witches and some are born humans. It just happens. For witches, there are bloodlines. Something makes us…different. You can’t simply become a witch. You are either born one or you are not. You either can access magic or you cannot. It is that simple.
Vampirism is never simple. These moments are crucial. One minuscule mistake means the difference between mortality and immortality. Giving Holland blood at the very second his heart stops beating means he will awaken as a vampire. He will have died with vampire blood in his system. That is enough to change him.
At the same time, he doesn’t have to die. At least, not like this. I remember my transition so vividly, it feels like only days have passed, not months. I was bled out by a rogue vampire and on the brink of death when Jasik saved me. By drinking from him, a vampire’s blood consumed my system, overpowering my mortal blood and replacing it with…something else. With some strange mixture of both species. At some point, my heart must have stopped. I died as a witch, and I was reborn a hybrid.
I watch as the world falls silent. Jeremiah ceases chest compressions, and everyone freezes in place. Time slows, and we all listen. The weak, sputtering beats of a dying heart ring through the air, swirling in my mind.
Holland is alive.
Jeremiah moves quickly, understanding this is his only chance to heal him—hopefully without risking the change. He holds his bleeding wrist to Holland’s mouth, but the blood simply fills the gape and splashes down his chin. Holland is not swallowing, because the dead cannot drink.
I scream an ear-piercing, heart-stopping bellow, and I fall to my knees. Jasik holds on to me, keeping me away so Jeremiah can finish his part of the ritual. I understand why the others did not clue me into these parts. If I would have known the cost would be Will or Holland, I never would have allowed us to go through with it. I would have accepted my fate and lived out the rest of my days in ignorant bliss.
Jasik soothes me as I crumble against him, watching as Jeremiah desperately tries to revive Holland. Every passing second, the dying witch becomes paler, and my heart lurches at the sight of him.
“You must drink, Holland,” Jeremiah says, as if he can actually hear him. Holland’s heartbeat is weak—so weak, I wonder if it is enough to keep him conscious. I worry we will not be able to save him, and if that’s the case, I will never forgive myself if the cost for eternal life is his innocent soul.
I glance at Will, who is still feeding from Hikari. The spell must have taken too much of his strength, because he does not seem to be relying on his own innate healing abilities. He leans against Hikari, who holds him close as Will drains her power.
Finally, after far too many seconds have passed, Will moves to sit upright, pushing away Hikari’s offering. She sits back, watching him carefully before finally stepping away to stand beside the other hunters. She wipes off her wrist, and the wound already begins to heal. Soon, there will be no trace of her offering to Will.
With a strange look on his face, Malik watches Jeremiah carefully. He does not look to me, and he does not offer his assistance to Jeremiah. Either the vampire will heal the witch—or he will not. There is nothing any of us can do but wait and hope that timing works to our benefit.
Will shimmies over to me and says something, but I do not understand his words. I am too focused on watching Jeremiah. He weeps now, because he understands it has been several minutes and Holland has not woken.
“Please, baby. Drink,” Jeremiah whispers.
“Ava!” someone shouts, and I tear my gaze from Holland to look at Will. I blink several times to clear my vision. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”
I am silent for a moment as I consider his words. How do I feel? I feel fine. I feel strong. Magic and power are coursing through my veins, and for once, I can feel its presence. The darkness, the evil within my soul, is gone. When I close my eyes and search the depths of core, I do not feel it anymore. I reversed my spell and severed my link to the witches and their misdeeds, but at what cost?
I look at Holland again, and I notice the exact moment his eyes flutter. I gasp, shrieking for the others to look at him.
“He’s awake!” I shout. “Feed him now!”
Jeremiah never moved his wrist, and for the past several minutes, he has continuously bled into Holland’s mouth, so my order is moot. But I cannot help myself. I refuse to let Holland die. Not for me. Not for my cause.
When Holland opens his eyes, he blinks several times, likely clearing his vision. His eyes go wide when he finally settles on Jeremiah, who still hovers above him. Finally, Holland latches on to the blood offering, and I listen as he takes several deep swallows.
I sigh, sinking back against Jasik, who still cradles me in his arms. That was close—too close. Knowing Holland will be okay, I am able to focus on another emotion besides fear.
Anger.
I am absolutely, utterly, overwhelmingly furious with the vampires. How could they not tell me about this part?
“How did this happen?” I ask, breaking my gaze to stare at Will, who simply slumps backward.
He no longer looks at me, because he is ashamed of what he did. I do not need to ask him to know this. I can see it written across his face—his pale, sickly face.
I let my gaze linger. Will’s body is sluggish and weak. His frame is no longer toned and strong. He looks…frail and powerless.
What happened to him during this spell?
“Are you okay?” I whisper. I don’t know why I am speaking so softly. Everyone around me, except for Holland, can hear our conversation. But still, I feel like Will is about to divulge something deeply personal, so I speak softly.
He looks at me, meeting my gaze, and that’s when I see it. Finally, I see it. I was so distracted by Holland and being reborn, I didn’t notice the most obvious change in Will’s demeanor or presence.
His eyes are brown.
“Will…” I whisper, trailing off. I shake my head, and my eyes begin to swell. “Please tell me you didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?” Will asks, frowning, his forehead creasing into two deep lines. I don’t remember that ever happening before.
“Tell me you did not take the darkness into you,” I whisper. I am shaking, absolutely terrified of his answer. I know I need to hear it, but I worry his response will break me.
Will shakes his head. “I didn’t. I promise I didn’t.”
“Then…how?” I ask.
Will smiles at me, and although he looks weaker than he ever has before, he also looks happy. In fact, I have never seen him look so peaceful, so…elated. I don’t have to ask him to know he is comfortable with his decision, with his sacrifice. I just need to know what that is exactly. What did he give up in order for me to live again?
“What did you do?” I hiss.
“There needed to be a sacrifice, Ava,” Will explains. “Black magic is meant to be irreversible, so reversing its effects comes at a cost.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. While I am processing his words, I don’t fully understand their meaning.
“The only way to complete the spell was for you to harness more magic. You needed to overpower the coven that cursed you, and there was only one way to do that,” Will says.
“How?” I whisper.
“I spent a lot of time searching for answers to your problem,” Will says. “When I finally found a spell that would work, I didn’t stop there. I searched for something else—something that was meant for me but would also help you. And I found it, Ava. I finally found it.”
“What did you find?” I ask. My pulse is racing as I wait for him to answer.
“Peace,” he says simply.
“What does this mean, Will? What are you saying?”
“One part of the spell required a sacrifice,” Will admits. “The still-beating heart of a mortal victim was your only path to immortality. But not just any mortal. You needed a witch, and we only knew of one.”
I suck in a sharp breath, glancing over at Holland, who still drinks from Jeremiah. So far, he seems okay. His heart did stop, but he was brought back by chest compressions. That was a natural, human save, so he should be okay to drink. And now he is being healed.
Again, I remind myself that he should be okay. Because he has to be okay.
“Holland agreed to this spell,” Will explains. “He wanted to do it.”
Finally, Jeremiah looks up at me, and I do not mistake the anger there. He is seething, furious that his boyfriend would risk so much for me. I tear my gaze away, not wanting to see the hatred there. Jeremiah might care for me as he does any other familial bond, but he loves Holland. And if he dies, Jeremiah will never forgive me.
“And what about you?” I ask, glancing back at Will. “What was your part in this?”
“You needed a power source, and not just the strength of a single vampire. You needed something more.”
“A hybrid,” I whisper.
Will nods. “The spell was surprisingly specific. The blood of neither mortal nor immortal. My guess is a black magic curse was never meant to be broken. The reversal was supposed to be impossible. But eventually, such a creature came into existence.”
“What does this mean for you?” I ask, swallowing the knot in my throat.
“It means I am finally free,” Will says, smiling.
I notice Will is shivering. He wraps his arms around his chest, trying to keep the cold from claiming his life—his mortal life. I frown and shimmy out of my cloak. I hand it to him, and gratefully, he accepts it. I am wearing nothing but a sports bra and shorts, yet I feel fine. The cold does not bother me.
“You needed the blood of a hybrid, because that’s where our magic comes from,” Will says. “Our blood is that of both a vampire and a witch, and it makes us what we are. You were created by combining the two and being strong enough to fight both. You needed that strength to become stronger than those who cursed you.”
“But what does that make you?” I ask.
“Human,” Will says softly.
“And that’s what you always wanted.”
“It is. I’m not like you, Ava. I have no family, no friends. My sire killed everyone I ever cared about. After I escaped him, I spent far too many years searching for someone like me, someone who would understand. Do you know what it is like to be alone for that long? It’s crippling, and I am tired.” Will sighs loudly, sinking even further into himself.
He looks weaker than ever before, yet he looks content with his decision. He does not regret his actions or his sacrifice.
“But you have a home now,” I say. “You belong here. With us.”
“I appreciate you all, but it’s not the same for me. I see the way they are with you. You truly have become one of them.” Will glances at Amicia, and she nods. “But I am a stranger—a welcomed stranger, but still a stranger.”
I shake my head. “That’s not true.”
“It’s okay, Ava. This is what I always wanted. I searched the earth three times over to find a coven smart enough to reverse your curse. When I finally found them, they had more answers than I could have ever hoped for. I owe them my life, because they helped me release my final burden: immortality.”
“You are mortal,” I say. This is obvious, but the words slip from me. It is almost as though I needed to speak them aloud to understand what has happened.
“I am,” Will says, even though I wasn’t really asking for confirmation.
“You will live and die a mortal life,” I say. I don’t want to think about that, so I cast out the visions in my mind.
“I will. Maybe I will finally find someone to spend my time with, now that I am more relatable,” Will says with a chuckle.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I hate the pain I have brought to these vampires. They have only tried to help me succeed in this life, and I have brought them nothing but sacrifice and misery.
Will shakes his head and says, “I’m not.”
I stare at my reflection in the mirror and smile.
I am standing in the training quarters, a section of the manor I have not been in for quite some time. After I was cursed, I hated coming down here. This place was a constant reminder of the girl I once was—strong, confident, powerful. I was sure I would never again be that girl.
The room is long and rectangular, taking up at least half the manor’s basement. The mat flooring is squishy, and I sink into it as I try to maintain my balance. One of the long side walls is comprised of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, allowing sparring vampires to witness how their bodies move during certain attacks. Malik, my former trainer who was recently rehired, swears by this method.
I did not change after the ritual. My sports bra and spandex shorts are tight, and they barely cover my skin. While I wouldn’t normally wear these clothes on patrol, I am excited to train in them.
It feels like years have passed since I last hunted rogue vampires, since I used my skill set to protect the humans of Darkhaven. I haven’t patrolled the woods in weeks. Now that I am starting to feel like myself again, I am eager to return to my nightly ritual.
&
nbsp; Still staring at my reflection, I smile as I spin in circles, hoping to catch glimpses of my body as I swirl around. I like the way I look when the light hits me just right, at the perfect angle when it illuminates my strength. I see muscle where there was only bone yesterday. I know I was withering away, succumbing to the darkness inside me, but now I am free. I wonder if this is how Will feels now that he is free from his curse too.
My skin has color again. I am no longer sickly pale. My eyes are crimson red, and my hair is shiny and lush. Over the weeks, my strands were lackluster, and I was losing handfuls at a time when I showered.
As I peer at my skin, now smooth and clear, the black veins are gone, and when I close my eyes, listening closely, I hear nothing. No darkness. No evil. Because I am no longer cursed.
I am free.
The best part about my transition back into a hybrid cannot be denied: I feel strong. I do not need to see my muscles flex to know I am as powerful now as I was the day I transitioned many months ago. I hated what I was back then. I desperately wanted to learn how to control my blood lust so I could return to the witches as a valued member of my coven. It is crazy to think how much has changed since then.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Malik asks, breaking my concentration. He is standing behind me, watching as I steal another glance at my healthy frame.
I do not face him. Instead, using the mirror, I nod excitedly, eager to begin. “I am.”
After the spell was complete, Jeremiah was able to restart Holland’s heart. His blood healed him, but he is still weak from harnessing enough magic to sever my link to the witches. Both he and Will are resting. They must recover, but I have never felt more alive.
Guilt rises in my chest, but I push it down. I must remind myself that I am immortal; they are not.
“I worry I’m rusty,” I admit.
Dark Curse Page 10