by Lucinda Dark
Actually, there was no somehow about it. I was still here for two reasons.
Maverick fucking McKnight and Torin fucking Priest.
The first, I was mad at. The second, I wanted to dangle over a fucking volcano and slowly dip him into lava one limb at a time while listening to his blood-curdling screams, with a martini in hand.
I tilted my head back and let the rainfall of the showerhead hit me face first this time. I slicked my hair back as I cleaned the dried blood out from under my nails. Dirt, grime, and blood rushed towards the drain of the porcelain tub, staining the white in a muddy red. A knock on the other side of the bathroom door sounded and ricocheted through my head. I flinched. Everything was louder now. I could even hear the old Italian man who ran the shit roach motel the guys had brought me to scream something in his native tongue at the television that was blasting away three floors below us.
“What?” I snapped.
“I’ve got a towel here for you and some new clothes,” Maverick said. “I’m setting them outside the door. Get dressed and come to the room when you’re done.”
“Fine.” I gritted my teeth and scrubbed a hand down my face. “Thanks.”
Minutes later, I shut off the showerhead and stepped out of the minuscule stall onto a wet floor bumping the tub that was positioned next to it with my thigh. I wasn’t a big girl by any means, but just to fit into the tiny square the hotel claimed as a shower, I’d had to leave the fucking door open, and now the rest of the room was nearly flooded. With a growl, I cracked the bathroom door open and reached for the towel Maverick had left. Rubbing the thing down my body in quick, precise movements, I hurried through dressing.
I paused just before leaving the bathroom, turning back to the condensation coated mirror. Hesitantly, I stepped towards it, lifting my hand and swiping it in one straight motion down the surface. My breath left my chest. My heart practically stopped. The girl that stared back at me was … well, she was me, but she wasn’t.
So much of lore said that vampires weren’t able to see themselves in mirrors, but that just wasn’t true. Not anymore anyway. Once, when people had backed mirrors in pure silver, vampires’ reflections had faded, but since then, less pure metals were used and their reflections had returned. Besides, it wasn’t like I was completely vampire. I was a dhampire or some combination of that, as well as demon-possessed—there wasn’t any damn room for anyone else in my head or my body.
Everything about my image was the same—my face shape, my eye color. And yet, at the same time, everything had been heightened. I could see the strands of color in my irises split apart at the fucking microscopic level, the different shades of blue as if they had been pulled from my eyes and laid bare before me. My skin was perfect. Too fucking perfect. I was a teenager. I should’ve had a zit or two, bad pores. Something. Anything. But all that greeted me was perfectly smooth pale flesh.
There was something different about that flesh. Something that hadn’t been there before. It didn’t have a name, but it was everything I hated. It was evil. It was bloodthirsty. It was something I had never wanted, nor asked for and yet it felt inevitable that what I was now was exactly what I’d been trying so desperately hard to destroy. Call it tragic irony or just call it what it was: Annoying.
I clenched my fist and without thinking, slammed it into the mirror. The glass surface of it cracked beneath my fist, sharp fragments raining down into the sink. The skin of my knuckles split and fresh blood welled. Hunger burned at the back of my mouth and my gums shifted. This time when I looked up, I saw red eyes instead of blue.
I know you’re angry, Satrina started. But keeping calm right now is the best course of action.
Is it? I snapped back. When she didn’t reply, I sighed and lowered my arm. What… I didn’t want to ask it, but I knew I had to. What does this mean? For me? For the contract?
Her responding sigh was heavy. Then she said the one thing I’d hoped she wouldn’t. I don’t know, Barbie.
Great, I thought to myself. Just fucking great. I didn’t look down when the cuts over my knuckles tingled and began to heal on their own. Instead, I turned away from the mirror and took several deep, calming breaths until I was sure the crimson glow was gone. Only then did I leave the bathroom and head for the second motel room Torin had rented for us.
I knocked on the door and let myself in, frowning when I saw Maverick already half out of his chair as if he meant to open the door for me. He resettled himself as I shut the door behind me.
“Good, we’re all here then,” Torin said, subtly tucking his phone into his back pocket. “Take a seat.”
I scowled at him. “I think I’ll take a seat when I’m good and ready to,” I barked. “And I certainly won’t do it because you fucking told me to.”
Torin’s hazel eyes slid my way. “We don’t have time for this, Barbie,” he said. “Now that you’re awake, we have to get back to the States.”
A memory resurfaced, dropping my anger down a notch or two. “What about Olivia?” I asked. “What happened to her?” The last time I saw her she was bleeding out from a horrible bite wound in her neck.
“She’s fine,” Maverick answered. “She lost a lot of blood and was sent home early. In fact, the entire class trip was canceled and everyone was sent home. We’ve kept in contact, though, and she doesn’t remember what happened.”
“What about the chaperones of the trip? Do Beth and Jon know anything?”
Maverick scrubbed a hand down his face and leaned back. “They think that you got really sick—before everything with Olivia even happened—and you’ve been detained here in quarantine with a dedicated hospital staff who are all very good at their jobs.”
“That wouldn’t keep them from flying here if that was the case,” I pointed out, crossing my arms.
“No, it wouldn’t,” Torin agreed. I felt my lips curl back as he strode closer. “They flew over a few days after Olivia and everyone else were sent home. I met with them and convinced them that you were in quarantine and that they shouldn’t see you in case your illness was contagious.”
“By convinced you mean you controlled them,” I guessed.
“It was for the best,” Maverick said, standing. He moved closer, pushing between Torin and me. “Unless you wanted my parents to know about vampires?”
Of course, I didn’t want that and he fucking knew it. Any knowledge of the supernatural would put them both in danger. And as I was now, I wasn’t sure if I could protect them. Hell, two weeks ago I hadn’t even been able to protect my fucking self.
I turned away. “Fine,” I said. “When are we going back then?”
“Tomorrow.”
I stiffened. Tomorrow seemed both a lifetime away and far too fucking soon. I'd literally just crawled out of a tomb hours ago and attacked him. There was no telling what I would do when put in a roomful of humans. If I could control myself. Torin wasn't stupid, though. He had to know what I was thinking.
"We'll go back to the States and train you before you go home," he said quietly. "We'll tell the McKnights you've been transferred to an American facility until then."
“And school?” I asked, turning back. It wasn’t that I held a strong desire to go back, but it was a concern.
“You were already ahead in your classes,” he said with a sigh. “But I made arrangements, and your missing assignments will be forgiven. You can return to school when—and only when—you’ve been sufficiently trained.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “Then about the McKnights, where are we going if not back to them?"
"You'll stay with me at the Priest Estate."
I glared at him. "After everything that's happened, what the fuck makes you think I want to stay anywhere near you?" I growled. Maverick sighed, opening his mouth—I was sure—to chastise me or to talk some sense into me, but I didn't want to hear it. I whipped my head away from him and focused solely on Torin. "You ignored my wishes," I said. "You changed me without my consent. As far as I'm concerne
d, you're no better than your goddamned father and you can rot in hell."
There wasn't even a shadow of emotion on his face as Torin stared back at me. No remorse. No anger. Nothing. It was as if he were a statue, carved from pure fucking granite. How the fuck had I been stupid enough to let myself be taken in by him? "Regardless," he said coolly, "you will stay with me until you have control of your vampire self."
I trembled with fury. "I told you no." The words faltered, not because I was scared, but because my anger was so hot, it burned away all else. Even my ability to speak. "You knew I didn't want it. I said no. I repeated it and you ignored that. I fucking trusted you, Torin. I. Trusted. You."
"That was your first mistake then."
I rocked back on my heels, shocked beyond belief.
"Tor—" Maverick started.
"No, she wants to hate me, that's her prerogative, Maverick. She wants to blame me, she can."
"You're not the only one who did it," Maverick argued with a frown. "I helped you."
"And I'm pissed at you, too," I informed him, cutting a glare his way.
"But not as much as you are at me, am I right?" Torin asked.
When I looked back at him, I nodded. Maverick wasn't as knowledgeable about this world as I was. He was still new to everything. Torin was different. He had been born in the darkness and he knew the true evil that was his father—at least, I thought he had. Now, I had to wonder if he wasn't more like Arrius Priest than I originally believed.
With Torin, because of his relationship with the fucking creature that had destroyed my life, I had felt something a bit deeper—something that tied us to our hatred of the man. Because of that, his betrayal cut me deeper. Right down to my fucking soul. He had carved out a gaping hole and filled it with a disease I knew there was no cure for. Once turned, there was no going back. This was a curse even worse than letting a demon into my being. I would have rather broken some fundamental law of the universe and let myself disperse into the ether. It was only his selfishness that had kept me here.
I hated him.
I didn't know if he could hear my thoughts, but as Torin looked back at me—meeting my gaze without looking away—he strode closer. Until his chest brushed my own. Two orbs of green and gray stared down at me, colder than frost. "Hate me all you want. Hate me with everything you have, Barbie," he said. "Hate me until it consumes you. I don't care. It doesn't matter. You can hate me for the rest of your long, long life. As long as you're here. As long as you’re breathing. You can hate me into infinity—for taking away your choice, for forcing you into the darkness with me. As long as I know you live in some way, shape, or form, you can hate me until our bodies turn to dust. I don't regret what I've done. If given a second chance, I'd do it again."
Hate him? I took one step back, biting down on my tongue at the pang of agony that sliced through my chest—the one that despised being pulled away from him. "Don't worry," I said just as coldly. "I will."
Two
Barbie
There were so many different shades of red. Maroon. Cardinal. Rose. Yet each and every single one of them seemed to fucking remind me of the ever-present hunger now residing in my gut. The unnatural hunger. The hunger that made my gums itch and throb. Why? Because I had fangs now. It made my vision blur as another being worked its way to the surface, trying to take over. I gritted my teeth and shoved the bitch back. She wasn’t in control. I was. And to keep myself in control, I needed to unleash some of this frustration the color red brought forth within me. So, when Torin, Maverick, and I climbed aboard a private jet and all I saw throughout the length of the cabin was red, I lost it. Red carpet. Red seats. Red leather bound booklets set on the tables.
I took three steps into the cabin and came to an abrupt halt as that new creature that lived within me, that was neither myself nor Satrina, grinned beneath my skin. The anger popped and I stopped breathing altogether as I turned and slammed my closed fist into Torin's face. Cartilage broke under my knuckles and more red poured down from his nostrils. The anger left just as quickly as it had come. I lowered my fist and met Torin’s gaze above his bloodied nose.
"Barbie! What the fuck?" Maverick's shock didn't surprise me. Torin’s response to my punch, on the other hand, did.
“Satisfied?” he asked, voice slightly muffled by his palm.
“Not even close,” I said as the unknown creature slithered back into the darkness, appeased for now.
“Pity. I suppose I should expect a few more of these unexpected … gifts of yours in the near future?”
He didn't look particularly upset by my strike though, and that made me even angrier. “Yup.”
“Alright then. I can take it. You be however you want to be, Barbie. Just be. That’s all I ask.”
I turned and stalked away without a word, heading to the very back of the cabin and sliding into a seat. Torin shook Maverick off as he moved to look at his broken nose—and I knew I’d broken it—before he stepped into the bathroom at the front of the plane, coming out minutes later with a cloth over his face.
Maverick looked from Torin to me and back to Torin, a frown on his face. I didn’t care if he was disappointed in me. As far as I was concerned, they were both traitors.
"I know you're fucking pissed," Maverick approached and moved to the chairs across the aisle from me, "but can you please control yourself for two fucking minutes?”
I shrugged. “I’m dead and fresh out of fucks to give, so spare me the scolding.”
"For fuck's sake," he grumbled, sliding into a seat across from me. Thankfully, Torin remained as far away as possible, turning away from me as he took a seat at the front of the plane. "You're not dead, you’re just acting like a child."
"Your ears aren't broken, Mav," I said as the door to the plane closed and we began to taxi down the runway. "I know you heard me when I said I didn't give a fuck. Don't make me repeat myself."
"Or what?" he snapped. "Gonna punch me too? Go ahead, Barbie. I can fucking take it. Here, I'll even do what Torin did and give you the perfect opening." Maverick leaned forward, his hands gripping the armrests as he turned his face towards me.
"I'm not going to do it when you're expecting it," I said. "But you know what would make me feel better?"
"What?"
"For you to eat a sack of dicks and shut the fuck up."
"Jesus fucking Christ." He sat back with a frustrated huff. "You think he wanted to do this? You think either of us wanted this? Would you really have preferred to die?"
"Yes." It was an immediate response. One I'd been screaming in my head since I woke up. I would have preferred death to this half-existence.
"Why?" Maverick's question confused me. I looked at him. I mean really looked at him.
"Because I hate vampires," I said. "They killed my family. I never wanted this. I'm not like other people. I don't want to live forever. I liked being human."
Maverick stared back at me. “Grow up,” he snapped.
“Excuse me?” I balled my fingers into fists. Maybe I would hit him.
“You fucking heard me,” he said. “Grow the fuck up. So, you’re not dead. So you’re part vampire now. Cry me a fucking river, Princess. Neither one of us—Torin nor I—would have chosen any differently for you as long as it kept you alive. Did you even think for one moment about what you dying would mean for anyone else? What about my parents, huh? They love you. They treat you like their fucking daughter—you would be their fucking daughter if you’d just let them adopt you. They’d be fucking devastated if you never came home to them. And me? What about me? Do you hate me so much that you want me to lose you.”
I blinked. “Y-you would’ve—” I started, but he was already shaking his head.
“I would’ve what? Gotten over you? Moved on? What about you? What if the roles were reversed? What if I’d been the one dying and you had the choice to save me?” he demanded, autumn eyes burning into me.
“I would’ve given you a choice,” I said. “I would�
�ve accepted whatever you chose.”
“Bullshit.”
“You don’t know what I would’ve done,” I snapped. “I could’ve—”
“I know you,” he argued. “And I also know that while you’re acting like you fucking hate him—Torin loves you.”
I stared at him. My eyes burned with unshed, frustrated tears. My throat ached. And I was still. Fucking. Hungry. This time, though, I was managing to keep my gaze off of Maverick’s throat. I knew Torin loved me. He hadn’t said as much, but he’d shown me. Every time he looked at me, it made my hatred grow. Because he’d loved me enough to deny me what I wanted. He’d loved me too fucking much. Selfishly.
Hating him hurt me. It was tearing me up inside, but where else was my anger going to go? I had to hate him. If I didn’t then I had to fucking accept what he’d done to me, and I wasn’t ready for that.
“Do what you have to,” Maverick finally said when I still hadn’t responded. “But Barbie…” His shoulders sagged and he sighed. “Even before you were turned, you weren't human anymore. You were demon-possessed and already well on your way to being consumed by the darkness.”
My lips parted, but I didn't have a response to that. He was right. When Maverick realized I still didn’t have anything to say, he leaned back in his seat and grew quiet.
It was going to be a long eleven and a half hours.
Standing in the middle of the room was a woman wrapped in elegant gold. “You always choose the strangest places to hold these conversations,” I started.
Satrina flicked a glance at me over her shoulder, a small smile playing across her painted lips. “I like interesting places,” she said.
“I’ve noticed.” I strode up to her side and paused, looking up at the crystal chandelier she seemed to be so fascinated with. The rest of the room was in ruins. The floor stripped away and now crumbling concrete. The tall, arching windows along one side were all dirty or cracked or completely smashed out. The paintings had been torn and left in tatters, hanging from the opposite wall. Despite all of that, there was still a hint of elegance to the place. The chandelier—although encrusted with grime—swayed and glittered as soft sunlight streamed into the room. As the light hit, rays of color rained down on us.