Once again, the room is silent. I eye Jasik, wondering if he will expose my misdeeds. I shouldn’t have tortured the rogue, even if he did deserve it. My job is to protect the innocent, not punish the guilty. Quick, abrupt attacks are what I’m trained to do. I’m not meant to prolong the pain like some psychopath. But I don’t regret what I did, and that makes dealing with the aftermath so much worse.
“I’ve never used a cross in my dealings, so I’m unfamiliar with how it affects rogues differently than other vampires,” Amicia says. Her voice is even, but I would guess her mind is reeling at this new information. If there was a way to harness the power of the cross, the vampires would be unbeatable. At her core, Amicia is a leader. She knows no other way than to protect her vampires.
“It makes sense, though,” Holland says, his voice soft, squeaky.
“Hmm?” Jeremiah says. He leans forward, eyes on his ex.
Holland clears his throat before continuing. “I mean, what Ava said. That makes sense. If you consider the cross an ally to mortals, then on a scale of good to evil, rogues are just one step away from being the devil himself.”
“I wonder what would happen if a rogue stepped inside a church,” Hikari says.
“That would be interesting,” Holland agrees.
“Let’s not get carried away,” Amicia says to the others before looking at me. “Ava, I know you’re upset about the events earlier today, and now this rogue has given you hope that you’re not truly alone, but I need you to see that that’s all this is. You’re scared of an eternity of alienation, but you mustn’t believe his lies.”
I exhale sharply. Part of what Amicia says is true. I don’t want to face forever alone, but until this very second, I didn’t feel alone. I knew I had Jasik and Malik and the others on my side. Amicia has a strange way with her words. In the same breath, she can both comfort and divide.
“In all my years, I have never met a creature quite like you,” Amicia continues.
“Neither have I,” Malik adds.
“I know you want to believe him, Ava, but he lied to you,” Jasik says.
“Why would he do that?” I ask. That rogue might have been a lot of things, but I’m not sure a liar is one of them.
“For kicks and giggles?” Jeremiah says. “I mean, if not to free himself, then I’d guess he did it for his own enjoyment.”
“I mean, look at you,” Hikari says. “He’s gone. He is never coming back, yet here you are, tormented by his words. And how long will you let yourself feel this way? He’s doing exactly what he planned to do. He might have experienced seconds of unbearable pain, but you’re willingly walking into an eternity of self-torture.”
The room falls silent, leaving me with nothing but my own thoughts. As confusing as it is and as mixed up as I feel, I do believe them. I do think a rogue would lie to save himself, but I also saw his eyes when he spoke. Nothing about him made me feel like he was being dishonest. Even if the gamble was small, that minor chance mattered. Because if he wasn’t lying, that can only mean one thing.
He was telling the truth.
I am not alone.
Chapter Five
The subtle ticks from the hallway grandfather clock lull me to sleep. The steady swoosh from my overhead ceiling fan makes my skin prickle.
I’m standing beside my bed—a massive four-poster throne with a sweeping sheer enclosure—and staring at myself while I sleep.
The astral plane is finicky, always just out of reach for anyone not born a spirit witch. This was one of my many psychic gifts as a mortal, and luckily, I was able to keep my connection to the other plane even after death.
I rarely visit the astral plane willingly. Without anyone to visit, it’s an ever-constant reminder of how lonely my life has become. The night I transitioned, I visited my old house, and Mamá was there. She tethered herself to my connection, and that was the last time she welcomed me with warmth and love. Since then, I barely recognize the woman she’s become.
I imagine my transition to vampirism has been hard on her. Me—the granddaughter of Abuela, our coven’s high priestess—a vampire. Sometimes I still can’t believe how different things are now. My former existence both feels like a lifetime ago and like no time has passed at all.
I watch myself sleep, and I frown. Mamá isn’t the only one who’s changed. My skin is pale, my body toned. My frame is small but not frail. Even before I became a vampire, I would have considered myself a formidable opponent, but I wasn’t. I relied too heavily on little things to win my battles.
I finger my cross necklace. I feel it beneath my grasp, but I know it’s not there…because I’m not really here. Not physically, anyway. I visit the astral plane with my mind. Everything about it mirrors the physical plane, the one that truly exists and bears life.
The astral world is a chilling reminder of how fragile we are. Every living soul is one brutal mistake away from this eternal darkness—always close enough to touch but far enough from making actual contact.
I move the sheer drapes to better look at myself. I imagine this is what it would feel like to be a ghost, always haunting that which you cannot truly experience. I can’t make contact with my physical self. When I reach to caress my cheek, my hand dissipates, flowing through my flesh, baring truth to the fact that this plane is nothing but barren, connectionless land. It mirrors its opposite plane in a desperate attempt to feel something, anything.
I consider roaming the manor, venturing into the other bedrooms to stalk my nestmates, but I know it would be pointless. They won’t be there. Their beds will be vacant. I am the only spirit witch here tonight.
My physical form is here as a portal to the other world. It reminds me that I don’t belong on the astral plane, and my body is my path home.
In the distance, the wind howls. With it, it carries the sound of a door closing. I jolt upright, backing away from my physical body. My spine tingles, and I shiver. It’s an odd sensation. I have little to fear in this dreamscape. At any moment, my physical form can jostle awake, and I will be forced out.
Breath hitched, I listen to the house. It creaks, the noise dancing around my head. I tell myself it’s just the wind. I look outside. The woods are eerily dark. Shadows loom, and clouds cover the moon. Everything seems gloomy and spooky. What few stars twinkle overhead illuminate the fresh snow. It glistens at me, and the juxtaposition between the beauty of the world and terror in my heart is nauseating.
I step away from the windows, contemplating leaving the astral plane. I should return to my body, waking safely in my own bed. I glance at myself sleeping. I look so peaceful, content, like my world isn’t slowly crumbling all around me. With the news of other half-breeds, I’ve let myself forget about Liv. Even now, I try to shake away the memory of her. For all I know, she’s already dead.
The hardwood floors groan in the distance, the distinct sound of old wood giving way under weight. I hear this noise almost daily. In a house full of vampires, someone is always walking around. But this is the astral plane, and I should be alone.
I tiptoe toward my bedroom door and place my ear against the wood. The solid oak seems impenetrable, but I close my eyes and listen. I wait for a second squeak, telling myself my mind is playing tricks on me.
The moment I hear it, I stumble backward, tripping over my feet and falling to my butt. The glow of the hallway light under my door is blinding in my dark bedroom. I stare at it, watching while listening as the steady squeak of approaching footsteps nearly chokes the life from me.
The footsteps grow louder with each passing second, and I’m immobilized by my fear. My heart is racing, chest heaving, and eyes wide with terror. A shadow moves, the light flickering across my bedroom floor. Darkness penetrates the light, and I know I’m not alone. Someone is standing on the other side of my bedroom door.
The screech of nails grinding against the wood slithers through the walls. A shudder works its way through me, and I open my mouth to speak. But no sound escapes my lips.
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br /> Two hard, jolting knocks against my door send me to my feet, and I rush forward. With my hand grasping the knob, I hear a whispering echo resonate in my chest. It stops my heart and makes my knees buckle.
Quickly, I jerk open the door, prepared to catch my stalker off guard, but no one is there. The hallway is empty.
I peer outside, seeing nothing but a long hallway and an endless row of closed doors. I tiptoe toward the stairs and peer into the downstairs sitting room. It’s vacant, but a chill rises in the air. Something is urging me to run back to my body, jump in, and scream until my physical mind awakens.
I cross my arms over my chest and tighten my grasp, holding myself closely. My sputtering heart is making it difficult to focus. From the bottom step, the dining room is at my left, the hallway to the foyer at my right, and an entrance to the solarium is straight ahead.
Gnawing on my lower lip, I fully descend the stairs and take several cautious steps forward. I glance into the parlor, finding it as empty as the hallway upstairs. I walk the length of the solarium. It’s vacant too.
When I reach the dining room, I freeze. The kitchen light is on. It glows beneath the swinging door. When I reach the butler’s pantry, which connects the kitchen and dining room, I stop short of pushing open the door. Instead, I mentally prepare myself for what may be inside.
My imagination is wild, and I envision so many different monsters beyond this door. The realist in me chastises the child, because I know I have to be alone here. The astral plane is home to spirits—nothing else.
I glance out the window, peering into the backyard. The trees surrounding our property seem to take on new forms. They turn into monsters with stark, sharp arms and wild-flowing hair. They tower over me, their shadows looming ever closer.
I squeeze my eyes shut until it hurts my head. When I open them again, the monsters are gone, leaving only trees.
My throat is closing in on itself, and I choke out a breath. With my attention back on the kitchen, I gnaw my lower lip until it bleeds. It stings as I tongue the droplets of blood.
The squeaking floor suddenly stops, as if my intruder is aware of my arrival. Time seems to slow as I stare at the door, waiting for something—anything—to happen. After several agonizing seconds, I find the strength to enter the kitchen.
I push open the door with such force it slams against the wall. Shaking, I stare into his eyes. He’s smiling, a deviant glare to his crimson irises.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to find me in here,” he says. His accent is thick, but I cannot place it.
Goose bumps prickle on my exposed arms, and I’m suddenly aware that I’m wearing pajamas. A too-sheer-for-comfort nightgown that flows against my frame each time I move.
My intruder is dressed in jeans, a dark T-shirt, and a jacket. When the microwave beeps, his floppy, curly brown hair sways as he turns around. When he faces me again, I’ve managed to take a few more steps toward him, and he’s holding a mug. My stomach pangs as the smell of freshly nuked blood wafts my way.
I lick my lips, daring a peek at his steaming drink, before our gazes meet again. His eyes are amused with me, and he holds out his breakfast, offering it to me. I shake my head, not stupid enough to drink something I didn’t make myself.
I was under the impression that I couldn’t be hurt while visiting the astral plane, so sustenance here should do nothing for my physical form. But I also believed I could only be visited by spirit witches, yet I stare into the eyes of a vampire. I’m beginning to wonder if everything I was taught before my transition was a lie.
“We don’t have much time,” he says.
His statement is a bit too ominous for my liking, so I take a few steps back until I’m safely beneath the doorframe. I make mental calculations, assuming I can outrun him to my body if needed.
In this form, I don’t have access to my vampire strength. After all, I’m nothing but a wisp. That should mean he doesn’t have access either. That is, if we’re playing fair, but I’ve never come across a fair playing field in Darkhaven.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, and then he takes a long, sloppy sip from his mug. I cringe as he slurps down blood, the sound radiating off my bones.
“Who are you?” I ask, voice cracking. I hate that I sound so nervous, so scared. I shouldn’t be afraid of him. He’s in my house.
“Will,” he says simply. He arches a brow as he takes another slurp of blood. When he sets down his mug, his teeth are stained pink.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice harder than before. Maybe I sound more courageous than I feel right now, and that’s a good thing. I don’t want him to know how terrified I am of the fact that he is in my astral visit.
“Looking for you,” Will says. He smiles, eyes glimmering in the low lighting.
My breath hitches. So he did come for me. What does that mean? If he wanted to hurt me, wouldn’t he have tried to already? If he can find my astral self, then surely he knows where my physical body is too.
“What was with the show earlier?” I ask, remembering the scratches at my door and the dancing light beneath it.
A sly grin creeps its way onto his face. “I wasn’t sure I could find you, and when I did, I thought I’d play a little game. After all, you only have one first encounter. I wanted ours to be memorable.”
“So you thought terrifying me was the way to go?” I don’t hide my annoyance. “How are you even here right now?”
While I wait for his answer, I think about the one question I should be asking: why was he looking for me? But I can’t ask that—not now. I’m worried his answer will be worse than our encounter.
“I admit it was in poor taste. I shouldn’t have scared you, but can you blame me?” Will says, laughing it off. He takes another sip of blood.
“Yes,” I say. I’m not sure why he’s even eating. Nothing in the astral plane is real, so that blood is providing no nourishment. It’s all an act—and he’s putting on a show for me. But why?
“So who are you?” I ask.
“I’m someone who likes to track special vampires—ones like you.”
A knot forms in my throat. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows I’m different. Clearly I’m a witch. I mean, I’m in the astral plane, but my irises are crimson. He can tell I’m not just a witch.
“Why?” I ask. “And how did you get here?”
What do you want with me?
He attempts to take another sip of blood, but the mug disappears before it touches his lips. He frowns, gaze flickering from his hand to me.
“You’re waking up,” he says plainly.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. I’m not talking to him; I’m speaking to my physical self, the one that’s asleep in my bed. I need to convince myself not to wake up, if that’s even possible. I’m not ready to leave Will. I have too many unanswered questions. He can’t leave yet.
“Sadly, yes,” he says.
I blink, and he’s in front of me. He moved so fast, I didn’t even see the motion. One second he was by the microwave, and the next he was beside me.
I shriek and fall backward, moving so quickly my feet skid against the hardwood floor. My knees lock, and I’m falling. Only, I never reach the ground. Will snaps his arms forward, grabbing my wrists. He holds me firmly and pulls me toward him. The space between us is gone, and I feel his breath hot against my skin.
I shiver beneath his hard, cold gaze, my legs numb beneath me. If he were to let go, I would collapse to the ground in a sloppy heap.
He smiles, but something is off about it. It’s menacing, and his eyes glow.
I shake my head, unwilling to leave but not wanting to stay.
“Just tell me what you want,” I whisper.
“You.”
I shake, trying to pull away from him. He releases me, and I dash through the dining room, not looking back. I don’t listen for his footsteps because I don’t want to know how close he is to reaching me. I just need to ma
ke it to my body. I can sever my connection there, and I can leave the astral plane behind and never return.
“You can’t run away from me, Ava,” Will shouts. “I already found you. I know where you are.”
I take the steps two at a time, stumbling when I reach the top. I shimmy down the hall on my hands and knees until I find the strength to stand again.
When I reach my door, my palms are slick from sweat, and I hear him stomping up the stairs. I scream, wiping my hands on my nightgown, and slam my body against the door. It doesn’t budge, so I hit it again. By the time it finally opens, I see Will rounding the corner.
He shouts something at me just as I fall into my bedroom. I’m only feet away now.
I can do this. I can make it.
I crawl to my bed and rip through the sheer fabric enclosing my body. I shred lace, tearing through the web of mesh. It lands in heaps at my feet.
When I finally reach my body, I can see that my physical form is restless. Slowly, I am waking, and when I do, this will feel like a nightmare. I will have to convince myself it wasn’t. This is something more.
Will is standing in my doorway. The light from the hall glows around him, casting eerie shadows across his features. His face is dark, but I can see his smile, his glowing eyes.
I scream and grab on to my body.
“Wait. Don’t—”
I jolt awake, eyelids snapping open so quickly my head hurts. I sit up in bed, chest heaving, and stare into my dark, quiet bedroom. My pulse is racing, my bed soaked from sweat.
Suddenly someone is at my door. The loud echoes of harsh knocking radiate off the walls. Before I can slip from the bed, Jasik is entering.
“Are you okay?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for me to respond. He’s scanning the room, checking my closet and bathroom for monsters that hide in the shadows.
My throat is closing, and I cannot answer him. But I nod.
His gaze settles on me. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
As I reach for my blankets that lie in a bundle on the floor, I notice the marks on my wrists. I stare, gaze tracing each delicate curve of both handprints.
Dark Promise (Darkhaven Saga Book 3) Page 5