CHAPTER 15
She stared at him but he knew she didn’t see him; he was certain the only things she could see right now were the memories of that night. Memories he’d glimpsed when he’d first touched her. The color had faded from her already pale skin; her eyes were shadowed. Crimson color had bled into the whites of her eyes again and the gold of them had red flames flickering around the edges once more.
“The vampire who attacked you gave you his blood,” he prodded when she remained mute.
Quinn shook her head; her hand fell away from her stomach. “No. Apparently being born a vampire and a Hunter was enough for me to transform without having an influx of vampire blood. It wasn’t an easy one.”
“None of them are,” he murmured. “But I imagine without that influx it must have been brutal.”
Going on his own experience with how excruciating the transformation was, and the strained look on her face, he imagined it had been far worse for her. Julian rubbed at his forehead as he tried to process what she’d just revealed. Six hundred years and he’d never heard of anything like this; six hundred years and he was still able to be surprised. It would have been amusing; however, this situation was anything but.
“Do you have any other abilities, besides being able to master souls?”
“No, it’s the only thing I can do.”
“What happened when you woke?” he inquired.
Her forehead furrowed, the red of her eyes deepened further as her fingers rubbed at the scars on her palms. “It was still night when I woke again. I was still pinned to the floor. I remember everything being strangely quiet and loud all at once. I’d died listening to the screams and I woke to the booming tick of a clock on the second floor of the house. My head throbbed; my skin felt as if someone had peeled a layer of it off. I could feel my blood congealing at my back but more than that I could smell the blood of everyone else…”
“And you were hungry.”
A muscle twitched in her cheek, tears pooled in her eyes before she blinked them away. “I was hungry,” she said in an ashamed whisper. “I felt like I was being consumed by flames, as if the hunger was eating me alive from the inside out, and there was nothing I could do to sate it. My fangs dug into my lips and tore at my mouth. A part of me knew what I’d become, all I cared about was stopping the incessant burn though. After what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, I succeeded in ripping my right hand over top of the blade still embedded in the floor. It tore my hand open further, but I didn’t care. I was mindless, crazed.
“I pulled the other knife from my left hand, and then the one from my stomach. Before I knew what I was doing, I crawled over to Betsy, and I began to feed. I took what little was left in all of their bodies before turning to what was still drinkable on the floor. I was like a wild creature, a monster.”
“You were a newly turned vampire who already had a thirst for blood before you were turned. There was nothing you could have done to stop what happened, Quinn. Stop blaming yourself for it.”
Her strangely colored eyes were pitiless as they met his. “My uncle raised me like one of his own; he loved me like a daughter. He protected me more than either of his children. It wasn’t a clock I heard upon waking but the faintest beat of his heart. A beat I stopped when I sank my fangs into his neck.”
This wasn’t shocking to him. He’d seen many a new vampire awaken and go on a rampage. The only two he knew who hadn’t gone straight for human throats were Annabelle and Cassie. If there had been puddles of human blood and bodies lying around them, it may have been a completely different story, at least for Annabelle. Cassie only had one mission upon waking and that was getting to Devon.
“Was your uncle going to survive his injuries?” Julian inquired.
“What does that matter?”
“It matters because it means you didn’t kill him. Maybe he was still alive when you got to him, but you are not the reason he’s dead now. I know you don’t want to hear this; I know you’ll continue to blame yourself, but just keep reminding yourself that you didn’t kill him. Maybe one day it will sink into that thick skull of yours. If those vampires had never walked into your house you would still be human, well mostly, and your family would still be alive. You’re not to blame here, they are.”
Her face remained impassive; he knew it would take more than his words to get through years of her self-inflicted shame, but he would do everything he could to help her stop blaming herself for things far beyond her control.
“Was he going to live?”
“No.”
Her response was stony; a muscle twitched in her cheek when he rose to his feet and deliberately advanced on her. She was exposed right now in a way she never had been before; he was afraid she would bolt if he approached her too quickly. Thankfully, she remained where she was and didn’t pull away from him when he took hold of her hands and held them out before her.
His thumbs traced over the two-inch long scars marring her flesh. The scars ran across the centers of her palms; they had faded enough that they weren’t raised up anymore. He turned her hands over and saw the same faded lines on the other side.
The pain and helplessness she must have experienced caused anger to swell within his chest. He would gladly help her find the vampire who had done this to her. What he would do to that vamp would make what was done to her look like a day at the carnival in comparison. He’d make the man watch as he leisurely carved him into pieces; make him see parts of himself no one was ever supposed to see, and no man ever wanted removed.
“Why didn’t the scars heal during your transformation?” he inquired.
Her hands twitched in his, but she didn’t try to jerk them away. “They started to.”
He studied her as he waited for her to explain, but realization dawned on him. “You didn’t allow your flesh to heal.”
“I gathered the bodies of my loved ones, and took them to a nearby lake to bury them by the shore.” Her voice was flat when she said this, but a single tear slid down her cheek. “I returned to the house to gather what I would need, but the sun came up before I could go. Trapped there with the realization of what I’d done, I put the knives back into my palms and stomach as I waited.”
“Why?”
The haunted look in her eyes pulled at his heart when she met his gaze. “Because I deserved it.”
Julian’s hands clenched around hers. He didn’t argue with her though, she wasn’t ready to believe she hadn’t deserved it. “Did the police come?”
“No one came, not for me.”
He would have come for her, but he kept the thought to himself. He didn’t even know where it had come from. “When did you leave?”
“At nightfall, and I never looked back.”
His fingers traced over her hands again. “How long did you keep these wounds open?”
“I reopened them every day for a month.”
“Quinn…” he breathed.
“They are my reminder of what I must do, the mission I have, what I have lost, and the atrocity of the acts I committed.”
“They’re your punishment.”
“Yes.”
“Do you still reopen them?” he demanded. She shook her head but wouldn’t look at him. “When was the last time you reopened them?”
“Six months ago.”
She’d spent five and a half years reopening her wounds; years atoning for sins she never should have been made to pay for. “I’m sorry for what happened to you,” he told her honestly.
“Don’t,” she whispered. Her lower lip trembled but she stalwartly held back her tears as she shook her head.
He clasped hold of her face with his hands and leaned forward to kiss her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, before finally pressing a chaste kiss upon her lips. “I can’t take it away from you but I will make sure it never happens again.”
A single tear slid down her cheek. “You can’t promise that.”
“Yes. I can.”
The fire slid away from
her eyes as her gaze searched his. “No one else can ever know what I did.”
“I have to tell Luther and the others what you are. They need a better understanding of your ability, and what we may be up against if someone else were to realize what you are. No one else will ever know about the events that transpired after your transformation.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. Lifting her face, he kissed her tenderly on the lips again before pulling her into his arms. He held her against his chest as she buried her face in his neck and leaned into him. She didn’t let another tear fall free, but he could feel her sadness in the limpness of her body and the fingers digging into his back as she cuddled closer.
“Do you mind if I tell Luther your last name? He won’t let anyone know you’re alive. It’s definitely better your family line remains dead to any other Hunters or Guardians.”
“You don’t trust them?”
“I don’t trust many people, but I do trust Luther and the others with my life. I know they will keep you safe, and I think it would be good if Luther knew as much as he can about you.”
She bit on her lower lip when she looked up at him. “It’s Martin.” He smiled as she gave another sign of trust in him. “And yours?”
“Aasen.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Unusual.”
“It’s Swedish.” He tugged at his hair. “I told you this was all natural.”
Her chuckle caused pleasure to spread through him as she rested her head on his chest again.
Frost Burn (The Fire and Ice Series, Book 1) Page 22