by Keary Taylor
“Accidents happen,” Cyrus continues loudly. “Our thirst is a terrible, often times uncontrollable thing. The Bitten are an unfortunate side effect of what we are. But what has happened—this was no mistake.”
Cyrus looks over at Jasmine, and his eyes grow cold. He begins walking around her, circling her like a vulture. “This was a deliberate move. This was reckless. Turning even one Bitten in the town of a House is always frowned upon, but turning so many… Well, you’ve asked for what is coming.”
My heart leaps into my throat and I look around at the Bitten Jasmine created. Tony. The contractor. All residents of this town we call home. Terror fills their faces. Tears leak down more than one face. This wasn’t their fault. They didn’t ask for this.
But we can’t trust them. They cannot control their hunger. They will attack. They will feed. They will kill. Some of them will accidentally create more Bitten.
It’s terrible, what’s about to happen. But there’s no way around it.
Cyrus hands Jasmine a set of sun goggles. She looks terrified as she accepts them. “Please,” she begins to beg. “Don’t do this. Exile me. Send me away. Just don’t do this.”
“Oh, you should have thought about the end when you began this,” Cyrus says with a manic smile on his face. “I believe this is yours. And that you’ve ended other lives with it.”
Cyrus produces the long bladed knife—the one that may as well be called a sword with its extreme length. The very same one Jasmine drove into Ian the night I tried to die. The one that ended his human life and revealed the traitorous truth.
Jasmine’s hand shakes as she accepts it.
“Let’s have us a little game, shall we?” the King says as he turns back to the silent crowd gathered around him. “You’re going to try to kill your sire, because she’s going to tell you to do so. And if you succeed in killing her, I might let you run free.”
Cyrus beings walking around Jasmine in a circle once more. “But let’s not make the stakes to easy. Every Born, you’ll want one of these.” He picks a box up from the floor and begins tossing a pair of sun goggles to each and every one of the Born. “Because our little event will take place outside.”
“No! Please!” Cries break out from the Bitten. Because it’s only five in the evening. The sun may be hidden behind the clouds of the curse storm, but even the dim light is blinding to the eyes of a vampire—Born or Bitten.
“Let’s head outside, shall we?” Cyrus says. The look in his eyes grows to a crazed gleam. His smile stretches wider and wider, as impending death grows closer.
X crosses the ballroom and opens the door out onto the veranda. With her goggles securely in place, she holds it open, extending her hand out in invitation to exit the carefully blacked out house.
“This is so wrong,” Danielle whispers to me as she puts her goggles on, the only Bitten safe from this day. “They did nothing wrong, and now, they’re going to die.”
“I can’t say I agree with the solution,” I say, swallowing hard as I follow the crowd out the door. Half the Bitten step backward, refusing to leave the safety of the dark. But Markov, Sebastian, and three other Court members shove them toward the doors.
They burst outside with screams and hands over their eyes. I see two others, blinking hard, as if to try to get their eyes to adjust. But they just turn brilliant red, already burning in the light, their eyes permanently fully dilated.
Cyrus leads us north on the property a little ways, to where the landscape opens up to a field of snow. A crack of thunder sounds through the sky.
“Please,” Jasmine whimpers. “Don’t make me do this. I will go. You’ll never hear from me again. I’ll never talk to another House for the rest of my life.”
Cyrus just chuckles at her, ignoring her cries. “You’ll command them to kill you. You have your blade, and unlike them, you can see. It seems a fair fight. If you kill all of them, and survive, I may—may not—let you live. It all depends on how entertained I am.”
The Bitten are forced into a circle around Jasmine, and their screams and sobs rise in intensity.
This is so wrong. This is evil.
But this is justice.
“Please tell me you will never deal out punishment like this.” Rath’s voice comes from behind me. There’s disgust and horror in his usually calm speech.
I shake my head. It’s not an answer. Because I’ve done things over the past few months that I once never thought I would consider. I can’t go back to the girl I once was, and I don’t know that I can fight the woman I am being forced to become. The one I’m learning to embrace.
“Let the game begin,” Cyrus says, the manic smile growing on his face.
“Please,” Jasmine asks once more. She stands at the center of the circle, alone, with the blade held loosely in one hand. She looks defeated. Broken. Abandoned.
“Now!” Cyrus bellows, spittle flying through the freezing air. “Or it is your head at the end of that blade and they die anyway!”
She takes a stuttered sob. Deep, sucking breaths cause her shoulders to rise and fall quickly. Which transforms into a growling hiss. And two seconds later, she lets out a howling scream. Her eyes are wild, demonic. They sweep the crowd, but land on me.
I hold her eyes, determined not to be intimidated by the tri-polar want-to-be queen.
One, two breaths later, she raises her chin. Her eyes harden, and she squares her shoulders. Her eyes flare brighter, and she looks around at the mess she’s created one last time. “Kill me.”
The weight of the Debt has never been more obvious than when the poor, blinded Bitten rush at her, all at once.
With one sweeping twirl, Jasmine’s blade slices up the center of a man. Blood sprays through the air, hitting Jasmine in the face, coating her well-water soaked shirt. He collapses to the ground, screaming in agony, though still alive.
Without time to put him permanently down, Jasmine jabs toward a woman with glowing eyes. Her blade sinks five inches into her chest, and she instantly drops, her skin turning gray.
Three others stumble blindly in Jasmine’s direction, hands outstretched. With one war cry and a spin, the blade connects with the first neck, and then the second, and finally the third. Three severed heads hit the ground with a thump, and the bodies collapse to the ground, sending out a spray of blood over the gathered crowd.
A man gets his hands around Jasmine from behind and his fangs sink into her neck. But with a backward swing of the blade, she buries it in the top of his skull. He drops from her, dead.
Her neck bleeding, Jasmine turns to the first man she cut, and drives the blade through his chest, ending his enslaved life.
A bear of a man—my former contractor—rushes her from the side, knocking them both to the ground and making the blade go sailing to the edge of the crowd to land at Sebastian’s feet.
The man’s hands go around Jasmine’s throat, squeezing with enough force to cut off every sound that might try to escape. But Jasmine’s brings her hand forward, her fingers speared together. And it’s as if in slow motion as she thrusts them forward. Connecting with the flesh beneath his rib cage. Suddenly, her hand disappears—into the man’s chest cavity. Blood gushes over her arm as her eyes go wild and gleeful. He gives a gurgled cry as her hand presses up inside of him. With a furious war cry, she pulls, and rips his heart from his ribcage.
Tossing it to the side and rolling as the man begins to collapse on top of her, Jasmine climbs to her feet, her eyes glowing so bright, I can see the red hue through her goggles.
This is too much. Too much blood. To harsh. To unfair. My stomach rolls, but there’s nothing it to dispel. I reach for a hand to hold onto. Anyone. And I find Markov and Anna. Surprisingly, Danielle places her hand on my shoulder from behind.
For another fifteen minutes, Jasmine battles the remaining Bitten. Slaughtering them. Burring her blade in their chests. She’s bitten twice, clawed from front and back. But one by one, the bodies drop into the snow. Slowly, the snow a
round us goes from pink, to red, seeping further and further out, until there is no more white in the circle. Only blood-soaked slush and bodies litter the ground.
Jasmine pulls her blade from the last of the Bitten, letting her fall to the ground, landing on top of two other bodies. Her chest heaves, sucking the air in and out in desperate pulls. There isn’t a surface of her body that isn’t covered in blood. It clings to her hair, coats her skin in a thick slick. Her clothing is drenched in it.
And as she looks around to us all, a tear leaks out onto her cheek. Followed by another. Then, a rush of others. Soon, she’s sobbing. She collapses onto her hands and knees.
My heart twists as she drips blood onto the soggy, red ground.
“Please,” she sobs. “Just do it.”
Cyrus steps forward, picking up the blade from the ground. The one coated in red.
“Don’t!” I cry as my heart threatens to break into a million explosive pieces, stepping forward from the crowd. Something bites at the back of my eyes and my throat tightens. “Don’t kill her.”
“Why not?” Cyrus asks, annoyed at being denied more of what he craves.
“Because,” I say as Jasmine’s eyes rise to meet mine. They hold so much pain, yet still so much hatred. But all I can feel is pity. She’s made so many mistakes, taken every wrong turn. “Because everyone deserves a second chance.” I look up at Cyrus. “Let me take her in. Teach her the right way to do things. After all of this, do you think she’ll ever stray again?”
Cyrus walks forward, toward me, his eyes steady. “Compassion is a rare find in our kind, especially considering what this woman has put you through.” He stops in front of me and his hand rises to cup my cheek. “You’re a caring woman, Alivia. You have done much for your House and for your town. But second chances are not something I give.” Panic rises in me when I see the look harden on Cyrus’ face. “Not when an individual has put our kind at so much risk for exposure.” Without looking away from me, he addresses Jasmine. “Remember, you brought this on yourself.”
Cyrus whips around in a movement that is invisible with its speed, swinging the blade.
Jasmine’s head falls into the snow, her body collapsing into a heap.
“No!” I scream, leaping forward, as if I can stop anything.
But a strong pair of arms wraps around my torso, holding me back. “It’s over,” a British accent says quietly into my ear. Nial doesn’t let me go as I try desperately to get to Jasmine. “It’s over.”
Attention turns to myself and those behind me. Tears roll down my face as my eyes are transfixed on Jasmine’s ruined body. “I could have…” I breathe in and out, my voice broken and small. “She could have changed. She just needed… She just needed a chance.”
“She never gave anyone a second chance, why would she take one herself?”
The pain and terror inside me grows very still and quiet as I recognize that voice. I turn, very slowly to face its owner.
Christian Kask stands in the snow, his expression grim. Lillian stands beside him, a hand on his shoulder. Next to him is Trinity, a tear rolling down her face. Nial finally lets me go.
The final two members of the Broken House that I was never able to secure stand before me, amongst the many, many members of the House of Conrath.
“Brother,” Samuel breathes. He rushes forward to wrap his arms around the man.
My House and family are complete.
“Let this be a lesson,” Cyrus says, and attention shifts back to their King. “We do not tolerate insurrection. The monarchy enforces justice. And do not forget what this woman, who is your leader, was willing to do for a woman who killed her loved one. Who tried to take what was rightfully Alivia’s. Who did unspeakable things. Lady Conrath was willing to forgive. That makes her unique, and I hope you do not forget that. But I, your King, I do not share the same compassion. Do not forget who you follow. Hail, Alivia Conrath!”
Cyrus pumps his fist in the air with his great shout.
“Hail, Alivia Conrath!” Markov echoes, and he drops to one knee, his head bent.
“Hail, Alivia Conrath!” the shouts echo around me. And one by one, fifteen new House members and six old ones drop to their knees, shouting my name.
I stand alone, apart—horror and wonder and hatred and love filling me to the brim.
This was my birthright. Blood and terror and allegiance.
I’m Alivia Conrath, and this is what it truly means to be a House ruler.
“IT’S A BEAUTIFUL HOUSE, NOW that it’s all fixed up.”
Danielle walks by my side. Door after door leads to more bedrooms. The walls are patched. The windows that were broken, replaced. The floor has been sealed and polished. A new chandelier hangs in the foyer.
Rath has just left. As usual, he’s taken care of everything—now that the contractor is dead.
It isn’t the House. The Institute is still not perfect. With the new renovations, it’s lost some of its classic charm. But it’s a home. It’s fit. It’s repaired. It’s still beautiful and grand.
“Yes, it is,” I agree as we come to a stop in the great room.
It’s now adorned in lavish furnishings. Three grand couches. A beautiful rug in the middle of the floor. Paintings unearthed from the attic. It’s beautiful and must be one of the most impressive homes in Silent Bend now.
Lillian stands in the middle of the room, chatting with two of the new Born. When they see me approach, they bow their heads and walk away.
“Thank you for doing this,” I say. “They’ll need teaching, direction. Once we feel they’re properly trained, we’ll reevaluate the living arrangements.”
“Of course,” Lillian offers with a smile. She follows me as we walk back out toward the foyer. “Some of them know our ways, others barely know what they are. We will educate them. Make them ready.”
X walks down the stairs, her hand trailing over the railing. “It would be best we begin right away. We have little time to waste.” She stops at the bottom of the stairs, folding her hands in front of her, looking at me with impatience.
It’s been obvious, this entire time, that X doesn’t care for me. It’s difficult to tell if she doesn’t like anyone, or if it’s just me who’s so lucky. “Of course,” I agree, offering an annoyed smile. “We will leave you to it. Let’s go,” I say to Danielle.
The two of us walk to the front doors, and just as we step outside, I find Danny sitting on the front porch. He rests in a white rocking chair, his feet propped on the railing. Those dark eyes study me, searching me over. “Alivia,” he says with the slightest nod of his head.
I offer him a smile before turning to leave.
Something about him unsettles me. His quiet ways. His odd requests and statements. But I think mostly it’s his eyes. He sees too much. Sees the truth and my truth is blurred these days.
Snow begins to fall once more. We’ve gained another inch just in the last two hours.
“I guess the curse storm wasn’t for Jasmine,” I mull to myself out loud.
“I always wondered if the curses were real or just scary stories my grandma told,” Danielle says as we trudge through the snow. It’s too deep to drive around town. But walking through the snow isn’t a difficult task with our newfound strength.
“I’ve heard too many stories to deny they’re real,” I say. My eyes scan the dark, searching for signs of people coming back into town. “Maybe this is for me. Maybe it’s for the King or just our forsaken town. Maybe it’s for an enemy we can’t even see.”
Like whoever is creating the Shadow Army of Bitten. The one who hides in the dark, only to emerge when we least expect them.
We travel in silence for several minutes. The flakes fall thick and heavy. The snow clings to my hair, melting into my skin. But I don’t feel cold. Not even a bit.
“Danielle,” I say, thinking of the cold. “Why were you in that house, the night I turned you?”
She looks over at me, but I don’t return her gaze. She
unsettles me. She makes me feel guilt, and I don’t need any more of that these days.
“Poverty is a very real thing in this town,” she answers. “I lost my job about three months ago. Haven’t been able to find another. I got kicked out of my apartment just a week before this storm started. That same day my car broke down. I couldn’t leave town. But I also had nowhere to get away from the cold.”
“You were homeless?” I ask, my brows furrowing. And I feel even worse.
“Can I ask you something?” Danielle asks, changing the subject instead of admitting the truth.
“I guess.”
“You and Ian were together, despite what you were and everything he believed,” she says. My hands curl into fists at the topic she’s chosen to bring up. “You had to know it wouldn’t end well. So I ask: did you love him?”
Her question stops me dead in my tracks. The cold I do not feel on the outside trickles down the back of my spine. My eyes meet hers, and I don’t know how to speak for several long moments.
“We were constantly holding back,” I answer honestly. I don’t know why I do it. Perhaps because I know how she felt about Ian. Perhaps because I need the closure myself. “Yes, we knew it wouldn’t end well. So, I’m grateful we didn’t let it go as deep as love because neither of us could have seen the end as black as it came.”
I take another step forward, not daring to look at Danielle. Because parts of what I just said were the truth. But parts were pure, straight up lies.
“He has a way, doesn’t he?” she says as she follows me, just a few steps behind. “Of pulling you in with that tortured soul. You just want to fix all the darkness in his life and give him something better.”
She nails it right on the head. “Something like that,” I say in a painful sigh.
He left me. He just left. After coming to me that night and begging me to leave with him. To walk away. And he just walked away, without me.
I should have seen it coming. He’d been upfront with his feelings the entire time. He never wanted me to become a vampire before there was no other choice.