Violet Midnight

by Lynn Rush

  “You were taken from us many, many years ago. We’ve been searching, but only now found you. I was in agony for you, my son,” she said.

  “Why would someone take me?”

  “Son, it’s a very long story, we can tell you everything, but first, are you okay?” she crinkled her forehead in concern. “You don’t look well.”

  “I’m fine,” he lied. Fear soured his stomach. Anger stabbed his gut. “You lie. If someone stole me, they wouldn’t have kept the name you gave me.”

  “I didn’t say the person who took you was smart,” the man said. “He held the notion everyone would think as you did, so he kept your given first name, though shortened it.”

  “Debil,” the woman said with a hiss.

  “Son.” His alleged father advanced, but Jake kept the bench between them. “You’re scared. You don’t know who we are. And you’re going through certain—” He leered at the one who claimed to be his mother. “Changes.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “More than you know, son.”

  “Quit calling me that. I’m not your son.”

  “Yes, actually, you are. The Cunninghams have taken decent care of you these last ten years, but they are not your rightful parents,” the woman said. She raised her hand to her chest and gently beat her hand against it. “We are.”

  The rising sun beamed through the trees, temporarily blinding Jake. He sifted through the spots, working to focus on the grass. He shook his head as he leaned forward and put his hands on his knees. Noises accosted his ears. A woodpecker, dog barking, people talking.

  “You hear it, don’t you?” the man asked.

  Jake didn’t answer.

  “And the smell. Something sweet. Rich with sugar?” the man continued.

  Jake shook his head, indicating he didn’t, but he did. His mouth watered like Pavlov’s dogs. Do they have special powers, too?

  “It’s okay, Jacob. It’s time.”

  “What are you talking about? You know nothing about me. Let’s say you are my parents…it’s by genetics only. You don’t get to come in here and just step in. The Cunninghams have been my parents for ten years.” The two stood shoulder-to-shoulder, watching Jake.

  Their faces were smooth, their skin pale. Jake’s head throbbed. It swam in an ocean of uncertainty. Could they be his parents? No. It can’t be true.

  “Jacob, please, let’s go indoors and talk about this. We have much to tell you.”

  He didn’t move, paralyzed by indecision. “First tell me what you meant by that sweet smell.”

  The man looked at the woman, as if they talked without words. She dipped her head. “You’ll see. They’re coming by shortly. Can you hear them?”

  “I don’t understand, I’m—” Suddenly, a sugary smell crashed over him with the force of a tidal wave. Sweet, like cotton candy from the county fair.

  Two young women turned the corner from the block adjacent to his house. He watched as the two claiming to be his parents stood before him and inhaled through their noses in unison. They eyed each other, licked their lips, then faced Jake.

  A subtle red glow ignited in their dark eyes.

  The man’s nostrils flared, and his thick chest puffed as he drew in a long, slow breath. “Do you smell it, son?”

  “What are you talking about?” Jake fisted his hands, scared to hear the answer. “What’s happening to me?”

  “You’re becoming who you’re meant to become.” The woman nodded. “One of us.”

  The man smiled, his canine teeth elongating until the tips dented his bottom lip. “A vampire.”

  Darkness slammed into Jake’s consciousness. Images of blood flowing. Long teeth gnashing. Screams. The flashes stopped as his mind rested on one familiar image.

  Emma. Only the image morphed into a movie. Jake leaned in and kissed her. A hard, fast, bruising kiss. She flinched within his grasp. “Jake. Stop.” Her hands curled around his shoulders as if to push him away.

  He held tighter, peppering kisses along her jaw, settling on the soft, tender spot behind her ear.

  Her raging pulse hammered against his lips, tempting him. No, it repulsed him, but he leaned in, dragging his tongue along the throbbing skin.

  “Jake. You don’t want to do this.”

  She was right, partially. He didn’t, yet he did. The scent of sugar swirled around him, filling his pores. The urge to bite struck like a rattlesnake.

  And so did he.

  “No!” Jake’s bellow snapped him from the vision, and he found himself at the base of the stairs to the side door of Emma’s dorm. Right where he’d left her last night.

  Oh, God, Emma. He’d bitten Emma.

  He shoved his fingers into his hair and faced skyward. The sun spilled over the treetops and speared his eyes with acidic pain. He put his hand up for shade and staggered down.

  The cool grass soothed his bare feet. No shoes? He smoothed his hand down the front of his crumpled shirt. No. He hadn’t bitten Em. It was a vision. A nightmare.

  But still, he ended up here. At her door. What if he hadn’t woken up?

  Oh, God.

  He tossed a glance around and took off running.

  TWENTY ONE

  Emma checked her watch. Eight-thirty. Jake was never late. She retrieved her phone from her back pocket and speed dialed him.

  Straight to voicemail. Shit.

  She slammed her book into her backpack and pushed her chair away from the table. Something was wrong. No way would he skip out and not answer his phone.

  Fear’s fiery teeth chewed on Emma’s chest as she stood and bolted toward the entrance to the library. What if a Vamp got him? No. Her wrist would have ignited.

  Not if it happened too far away. What if—

  No. There was another explanation. Please let him be okay.

  “Hey, Emma.”

  Emma jerked to a stop two feet before the entrance. Cynthia and Dylan strode toward her, each holding a stack of books.

  “Hi, guys. What’s up?” Emma cinched her bag around her shoulder and inched toward the door.

  “Research.” Dylan grimaced. “I’m so ready for tomorrow’s party. It’s been a shit-storm of studying and writing papers this week.” He leaned to the side. “Where’s our guy?”

  “Actually, I was going to ask if you’ve seen him this morning.”

  Cynthia flashed her phone. “Quarter to nine. Probably sleeping, huh?”

  Emma kept inching toward the door. “No. We had plans to meet here this morning. Eight sharp. He’s never late.” She needed to get to Jake. To—

  “Hey, while you’re waiting, let’s talk about a couple details of the party tomorrow. You’re bringing Ava and Greg, right? I haven’t gotten an RSVP from them yet.”

  Emma glanced to the door. “Yep. Ava. Greg. Count them in. I better go. I need to check on Jake.”

  “One more thing.” Cynthia stepped forward. “That sheet of paper. The one Jake had me look at.”

  Okay, that stopped Emma because Cynthia’s original description of what it said hadn’t been very detailed. Emma clutched her bag to her chest, knowing the treasure she’d found last night lay within the page of her Psych book. She’d been so excited to share the news with Jake. They had a name. It was huge news. “Did you find something out?”

  “No. I was curious, where did you get it?”

  “Nowhere special.”

  Cynthia held Emma’s gaze for a long breath and smiled her patent face-filling-sweet smile. “You’re a unique one, Emma Martin.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m adventurous that way. Bye.” She waved and burst through the doors. She tried Jake one more time on his phone.

  Straight to voicemail.

  She bolted toward the path off campus but the twinge of her wrist firing to life sent her trainers into a skid. She did a three-sixty. Path leading into the trees ahead, path to the campus behind and only a few people meandering about, but none coming this way.

  No time for this. She needed
to get to Jake’s. She pulled down her watch to get a look at the glow and turned toward the campus. It stayed the same. Slowly, she turned and the mark pulsed when she faced the trees.

  She had a bad feeling about this. Jake missing, an attack in the morning, daylight—what the hell?

  She trotted down the path. Despite the early morning sun rising high in the sky, the thick trees blotted out most of its rays. Not pitch black, but heavily shaded. So maybe the Vamp wasn’t a total idiot. But still, morning attacks?

  Only a few blocks from Jake’s house. Hairs prickled the nape of her neck as she walked. Up ahead, a girl came into sight. Short skirt, long sleeved shirt, and a backpack tight around her shoulders. Emma picked up her pace in case she was breakfast plans for a Vamp.

  Nothing.

  “Hi,” the girl said as she walked passed Emma. The scent of the girl’s patchouli perfume assaulted her nose.

  Jeez, take a bath in that stuff?

  Emma kept the girl in her sights to make sure she made it out of the woods safely.

  She did.

  Emma turned to resume her walk to Jake’s, but ran smack into someone. Shoulders knocked, her bones rattled.

  “Holy cow,” a voice shouted out. “You okay?”

  “Oh, sorry,” she said as she stumbled off the path.

  “Hey, Emma.”

  Emma met Greg’s emerald eyes. “Greg?”

  He hefted his backpack over his shoulder. “Little distracted there?”

  She snatched her bag from the trail and patted off the dried grass and burrows. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Where are you headed?”

  “I swung by Jake’s because he was supposed to meet up with me about this Psych paper he’s helping me with.” Greg smiled. “But he wasn’t home, so I figured he was with you. I was on my way to campus to swing by the TA office to see if he was there. If not, my next call was to you.”

  “You call him?”

  “No answer.” Greg cocked his head to the side. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I can’t reach him either. Was on my way to his house.” Emma’s wrist tingled again.

  A low growl vibrating someone’s—or something’s—throat emanated from the brush behind Greg.

  Greg stiffened, and he turned, facing the menacing sound. “What is it? Freakin’ dog in the trees, or what?”

  Emma reached out for his hand to keep him from walking toward the growl. “Yeah, not such a good idea, Greg. He could have rabies or something.”

  Or razor sharp fangs that would cut through you like a knife through butter.

  The long shadows of the trees hid whatever she heard, but she felt it. Had she been a dog, her hackles would have been on their tiptoes.

  Then it lunged. Like a streak of darkness, a figure shot through the air. All she saw were fangs, long black hair, and sharp, razor-like fingernails.

  He was coming directly after her.

  “Holy shit,” Greg yelled.

  Emma yanked his arm, pulling him out of harm’s way. He flew three feet into the air.

  Arms up, Emma braced for the creature’s impact. His fangs pierced her forearm, sending a jolt of pain through her entire left side.

  Since she’d released Greg, her other hand was free. Palm open she said, “Dagger.”

  The steel weapon appeared, and she curled her fingers around the thick handle. Rotating her body to the side, the Vamp moved with her, the mouth locked around her like an angry Pit Bull.

  Emma plunged the dagger into the creature’s chest from underneath. His clamp released, and he sent a shrill howl cutting through the air.

  “Look out,” Greg yelled.

  Another Vamp tackled her from the side. Shoulder to the ribs.

  “No. Get off me,” Greg said as he folded beneath the weight of yet another Vamp.

  Emma tumbled with the creature as he snapped at her bloody arm. She held him at bay, landing jabs to his jaw while she positioned her dagger.

  One poke, and a wave of dust cluttered her lungs. She leapt to her feet, coughing and searching for Greg. She blinked away the soot and found him rolling around with one last creature.

  “Get off me. Ow. What are you doing?”

  The creature made his way on top of Greg and leaned in for the jugular when Emma launched the dagger.

  Crack! Right through the backside, into the heart.

  Dust rained down on Greg.

  He flailed his arms and kicked as the ash settled over him. He scrambled to his feet. “Oh my god, what the hell is going on?”

  Someone sauntering along the path came into Emma’s sights, but her wrist stayed cold. Must be human.

  “What the—”

  “Greg, chill.” She hustled toward him.

  Weapons home.

  “Come here. Are you okay?”

  He shuffled toward her, and she reached out for his arm. He fidgeted under her touch as she grabbed him above the elbow joint, and jerked him close. She stared into his eyes and focused. “Greg. You and I chatted for a few minutes about the party tomorrow. You didn’t see the Vamps or my powers. You’re going to head over to the library for some studying before class.”

  His tense face softened, and his mouth fell agape. He stood frozen for a moment, then nodded. A bead of sweat trickled along his temple, over his cheek, and dangled from his chin. “Library to study.”

  A girl approached. She was short and wearing an even shorter jean skirt.

  “Everythang all right here?” she asked, with a sweet, southern twang.

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Emma patted Greg’s shoulder, giving him one more scan for bites and found him clear. “Nice bumping into you Greg. See you later.”

  “Bye.” Greg started walking a few paces behind the Texan, still in a fog.

  Emma whipped out her phone. Nine-thirty. She whirled around and continued toward Jake’s house. Her arm throbbed. Gravity urged a line of crimson, oozing from the puncture, toward her fingertips.

  Glancing around her, she saw it was clear and held out her hand, “First Aid Kit.”

  The small, red and white zip bag she kept tucked away safe in her trunk appeared in her palm, and she knelt beside her bag. She dug out her ointment and dabbed at the two puncture holes in her arm.

  Jeez. I’m turning into a pincushion.

  She finished up, jammed the kit into her bag, and jumped up. Hopefully, she’d make it to Jake’s without anymore interruptions. And hopefully he was safe.

  TWENTY TWO

  Jake stormed into his house. It was empty, but his parents’ words echoed through his mind. “Vampire. Marked. No choice.”

  He stomped into his living room. No sign of anyone or anything. No glass beside the couch. He checked his watch. Emma would be worried.

  He dug out his phone. Three missed calls and two texts. One from Dylan and one from Emma. “Damn it.”

  He marched into the kitchen, mind whirling. Jake woke up at her dorm after having bit her in his vision—or dream—or whatever the hell it was. He couldn’t see her now. What if his vision was true? What if—

  He kicked the refrigerator, denting the silver door. Didn’t matter, since he never ate any more. And it sounded like that would never change. Unless he wanted to store blood in the stupid fridge.

  A shiver skated down his back. The thought of drinking blood clenched his stomach into a knot tight enough to produce a diamond. He grasped each side of the metal icebox and rattled it. No. He wasn’t chosen to be one of them…to rule the night.

  They were lies. They had to be lies. He was chosen to fight them. With Emma. Em.

  He’d known, deep down, this damn mark on his shoulder was evil. But when he’d met Emma, saw what she was, he wanted so much to believe he was a Hunter, too.

  His mind rioted, but landed on Emma again. Like she was his focal point in a never-ending spin. Her sweet face came into focus, and he palmed his temples.

  He raked his hands through his hair and turned toward the door. Two long strides and he pushed open the screen d
oor and lumbered onto the patio. Breathe, man. Think this through. He plopped into the loveseat and rested his head back.

  This had to be a dream. No, a nightmare. He’d just found his soul mate. She was a Hunter, and soon, she’d be hunting him. How could fate be so cruel?

  Your destiny, Jacob.

  He shook his head. That quiet, nagging voice. The woman who called herself his mother. Rosa. Yes, that was her name. How’d he remember that? She must have told him. Everything was a blur.

  He sucked in a lungful of air through his nose and almost choked on what he smelled.

  Emma.

  He shot his eyes open. A half-block down, Emma trotted along the side of the street toward him. Her face was tense, eyebrows furrowed. The wind tangled her hair as she jogged in his direction.

  Blood oozed down her arm, dribbling onto the pavement, and his mouth morphed into Niagara Falls. Disgust coiled around his stomach at the thought of drinking blood, especially Emma’s. He loved her and wanted to be with her, but if what his parents said was true, they’d be enemies soon. One stroke after midnight on his twenty-fifth birthday.

  No. He’d run first. Get far away from here. Cynthia’s party. No way. He definitely needed to leave.

  “Jake!” Emma yelled.

  He shifted in his seat. What would he say? Should he tell her about his so-called parents? No. No. He couldn’t. She’d finally opened up to him enough that he got a clear picture of her fears of losing someone close to her, like she did Gabriel. And Jake would be dead to her soon. He couldn’t put her through that.

  No. He needed to leave. To go far away so he wouldn’t hurt Emma. He needed to protect her from this. “Damn it.”

  “Jake. Are you okay?” She stepped up one of the three stairs. Her sparkling eyes flickered at him.

  She glanced around. He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, saying nothing.

  “Jake?”

  The wooden steps creaked.

  “Don’t come any closer,” he whispered. He didn’t trust himself. What if he ignited her wrist right then and there? No. He hadn’t changed yet. Would she kill him right away if she were near when he turned?

  Or maybe he should tell her to kill him. Right now, even. Before the change. He only had until tomorrow night to be human. Maybe he should spend it with her so he would always have the memories. If he’d even remember her once he became a Vamp. No. He needed to cut her loose now, then leave.