“Estoy asustada,” she whispers. “There are so many.”
I remain silent, allowing Sofía’s confession to wash over me. She tells me she is scared, and I do believe her. I can see she is frightened, but I don’t know why. Is it because there are at least a dozen rogues outside? Or is it because they ruined her plan by showing up early? Is she simply playing a fantastic game of cat and mouse?
Regardless, I still don’t trust her, so if she thinks playing on my emotions will help win me over, she’s wrong. My allegiance is to this nest—and she isn’t part of it.
“Rely on your fire magic,” I say. “It’s a powerful tool against vampires.”
She nods, eyes hooded as she stares down, unable to look away from the weapon I gave her. Her hands are tiny, and the weapon is even smaller. She probably thinks this is a trap, that a blade this small couldn’t possibly pierce the sternum of a rogue vampire. I suppose she may be right. I’ve never had to use it. I guess she better have good control over her element.
“And Sofía?” I say.
She looks up at me, and suddenly I see how weak she looks, how childlike. There is an ache in my heart, but the feeling passes quickly. There are enough creatures in this house for me to worry about. I don’t need another.
“Aim well,” I warn.
Violence has the unique ability to affect all senses. From the sound of rogues combusting—a noise I have come to appreciate as the battle cry for Darkhaven. To the smell of blood lingering in the air, teasing my innards with the promise of sustenance. To the ash showering down, so thick I can practically taste the cremains of my enemies. To the heat of the flames, which lash out of me, scorching flesh. Everywhere I look, I see death and violence, fire and smoke, blood and ash.
I maintain my focus on the one vampire I care to kill. As I rush toward him, he licks his lips, a smile pulling the edges of his mouth into a menacing glare. But he doesn’t scare me. Not anymore.
He lunges forward, a move I was anticipating, and I flip, twisting my body in the air, the tip of my boot making impact with the curve of his jaw. I land back on the ground, listening as my enemy howls in pain. Blood seeps from his mouth, and I grin at the sight. I must have hit him at the perfect spot, tearing through flesh, as he bit down on his lip or maybe his tongue. He tries to wipe away the blood that coats his chin, but more pours from his wound.
He slices his arms through the air, fists balled, grunting loudly as he thrusts toward me over and over again, but I dodge each attack. I watch him as though he moves in slow motion, my heightened senses superior to his. He fumbles through his attacks, an amateur before an expert.
Unlike our last encounter, when he caught me off guard, I am prepared now. I knew he would come for me, and this time, I am not alone. While my friends slay the beasts he brought with him, he maintains his focus solely on me. Soon, he will be alone, trapped by my fellow hunters.
The rogue grows more ferocious with each failed attack, likely embarrassed to be bested by such a young vampire. His fists unravel, revealing fingernails sharpened to points, nail beds caked with dirt. He swipes through the air, and I move too slowly. His claws shred the fabric of my sleeve, but he barely reaches my skin.
My enemy smiles and licks his lips, thinking he has the upper hand, but he does not. He may be powerful, but he made the mistake all rogues make. They assume their brute force is enough to win battles. It’s not. He lacks training, and I happen to have been mentored by the best vampire hunter in Darkhaven.
I distract him with a flashy attack, landing several hits, and he fumbles backward. He maintains his balance, but his frustration grows. He growls loudly as he again tries to strike me. Being several steps away now, I take this chance to withdraw my dagger and slice it forward.
My blade slides through his flesh like butter, leaving a devastating gash across his arm. He hisses, nostrils flaring. I do this again and again—each time inflicting a wound deeper and wider than its predecessor.
“Careful, blood loss can be a real bitch,” I taunt.
Overconfident, I spin the blade in my hand, prepared to pull it down again, when the rogue speaks.
“I don’t care if he told me to ensure your survival. I’m ending you. Tonight.”
His words halt me, momentarily silencing that part of my brain that floods my body with adrenaline. He takes this as his chance to strike, and I stumble over my moves, carelessly missing my next attack.
Still processing his confession, I miss the moment he twists around, leaping through the air and landing behind me. Before me one moment, gone the next.
He grabs me by the arms, squeezing tight enough to crack bones. I yelp, screeching so fiercely the earth rumbles in response. I hold on to its wrath, beckoning its magic to aid me. But with each second that passes, I am overwhelmed by the pain in my arms. My grasp on reality is weakening as I relinquish my mind to the darkness.
The throbbing, blunt trauma to both my arms forces me to the ground. My knees slam against the hard-packed dirt, and I’m falling forward, unable to ease my fall.
My face smacks against the ground, my nose protesting the angle by flooding my lungs with blood. I hack, choking on the taste of my own essence. The liquid spills from my mouth, pooling around me, stealing my chance at preserving oxygen.
I hear the rogue laughing as I struggle to turn over, and I realize how close I am to dying. Without the use of my arms, I cannot defend myself. At least, not as a vampire.
I close my eyes, chest heavy, and I begin whispering, calling the elements, summoning them to me, but I am stopped so suddenly, I scream.
The blade enters my flesh over and over again, but all I can focus on—besides the voice screaming at me from within my mind, begging me to move, to survive—is the sharp sucking sound of my flesh grabbing on to the blade as it enters and releasing it as it is yanked out.
The attack stops, and the vampire is on top of me, rolling me onto my back. He straddles my weakened frame, leaning back so he rests his bottom on my pelvic bone. He slams his weight down hard, smacking against my body, and I wail. Each time he lifts his weight, he forces my spine to move too, and that simple act forces me to relive each time he sank my dagger into my back.
He leans down and grabs on to my wounded arms, digging his fingers into my flesh. He squeezes and shifts, grinding the broken bits of bone against each other.
“You thought you won,” he says, chuckling.
Jaw clenched, I grind my teeth as I lean forward, ignoring every protest in my broken body so that I can touch noses with the rogue vampire atop me.
“I did,” I whisper, finding strength in the look of horror on his face.
The subtle whooshing sound of fire igniting echoes in my mind. Almost immediately, he is engulfed in flames, from the soles of his feet to the top of his slick, smooth skull.
His screams blend together with the song in my heart, creating a pulsing, rhythmic beat radiating from the amulet at my throat. I find myself laughing as the rogue relinquishes his hold over me. And I begin to sway to the song only I can hear, waiting as the magic contained within the black onyx crystal heals my wounds.
The rogue vampire stands, stumbling backward as he frantically pats down his body, desperate to put out the flames. But there’s no use. As soon as I lit the spark that ended his life, he was a goner.
He bursts into ash, fluttering through the air, floating down and landing atop me like confetti at a party. I notice how it sparkles under the moonlight, like glitter. I’ll probably be scraping off bits of his cremains for weeks.
Ever faithful, Jasik is at my side. The others follow suit, but I glance past them, noticing that the rogues are gone—either by force or by retreat.
Sofía is there, standing over me, watching as Jasik snaps my bones back in place so I can properly heal. I cringe, wincing at the pain but never making a sound. If I’m honest, I like the way it feels. Never have I ever felt this alive, this…free.
Instead, I focus on Sofía. I smile at her
, but she doesn’t return the favor.
“What are you?” she asks, voice shaking.
I inhale deeply, the acrid scent of metal strong in the air. I lick my lips, never breaking eye contact with her.
And from the depths of the amulet, which aided me only moments ago, the entity laughs, and the sound, deep and throaty, escapes my lips.
Acknowledgments
Dark Shadow is dedicated to the readers who have picked up my books, mentioned Ava to friends, shared the series on social media, or requested local libraries and bookstores to stock it. I have been able to continue writing this series because of you. Even though I’m a wordsmith at heart, I’ll never find the right words to express how much your support means to me.
So to the countless people who have given Ava a chance, to the many who have fallen in love with these characters and this world just as I have—thank you. Thank you for giving Darkhaven a chance.
As always, special thanks to the members of my Facebook reader group, Petals & Thorns; to my PA, Martha; to my writing cohorts, Shawna, Francie, and Heather; to my family and friends; and to my incredible publisher, for taking a chance on both me and my words. I love you all.
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Also by Danielle Rose
Darkhaven Saga:
Dark Secret
Dark Magic
Dark Promise
Dark Spell
Dark Curse
Dark Shadow
Dark Descent
* * *
Pieces of Me Duet:
Lies We Keep
Truth We Bear
* * *
For a full list of Danielle’s other titles,
visit her at
DRoseAuthor.com
About Danielle Rose
Dubbed a “triple threat” by readers, Danielle Rose dabbles in many genres, including urban fantasy, suspense, and romance. The USA Today bestselling author holds a master of fine arts in creative writing from the University of Southern Maine.
Danielle is a self-professed sufferer of ’philes and an Oxford comma enthusiast. She prefers solitude to crowds, animals to people, four seasons to hellfire, nature to cities, and traveling as often as she breathes.
For more information, please follow Danielle Rose at:
DRoseAuthor.com
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