by Tanith Frost
Assholes.
The night is clear and perfect as I step off the porch and take a few steps toward the ocean. We haven’t turned any lights on outside the house, and with the curtains all drawn the only unnatural light comes from distant towns. Above me, the stars are spilled across the black sky in numbers impossible for human eyes to appreciate, casting their white glow on the earth and the ocean. The night isn’t as dark as I thought it was when I was alive. You just have to know how to find the light.
Miranda’s presence reaches me, filling the air like soft perfume. I halt my steps and wait. She seems to have muted her power as Daniel is in the habit of doing, perhaps attempting to dull the threat inherent in her approach. Still, she’s impossible to ignore.
“Your isolation hasn’t made you more eager to follow orders.” Her tone is unreadable.
“I don’t believe anyone has issued orders yet,” I answer. “Should I also not have opinions?”
I wince. I shouldn’t be so bold with her. Even as I’m saying the words, I regret them.
“Not if you have your best interests at heart.” She stops beside me, close enough that I could reach out with my left hand and touch her if I dared.
“I know you won’t leave the elderly vampires to be hunted,” I tell her.
“You believe we care so much?” She sounds amused.
“Hardly. But if there are humans out there who not only know that we exist but see us as enough of a threat that they want us dead, they presumably wouldn’t hesitate to expose us. So while I understand that you might not waste resources on members of the clan you consider useless, I don’t believe you’d risk exposure.”
“Then why stand up to us over it?” She turns to me, and though her expression is less accusing than the last time we stood together under the stars, I can’t help feeling the weight of her judgement. “Why not go along with it and trust that things will turn out as you want them to?”
“Why not let the ends justify the means?” I ask.
“Exactly.”
I look up at the stars. “That would be simpler, I guess. I wasn’t thinking about it that way in there, though. Viktor’s attitude toward the older vampires bothered me. They deserve better than that.”
I don’t add that I was thinking more with my emotions than my rational mind. She knows. And if my isolation or this new assignment were meant to change that, her experiment is failing.
Miranda follows my gaze, and when I turn to look at her, a slight frown shadows her eyes. “Aviva, I—”
A piercing whistle cuts through the night air. Miranda snaps to attention, eyes wide. She looks like a wildcat that’s scented danger.
“To the house,” she says, and though her voice remains calm and steady, I obey instantly. I don’t know what she senses, but I’m not going to question her in this. We turn together and run, though she quickly outpaces me and pulls ahead.
Another whistle, and this time it sends shivers up my spine.
A gunshot rings out at the front of the house, followed by a scream. Miranda glances back over her shoulder as she reaches the porch, and her eyes widen. Before I know what’s happening she pivots, pushing herself off the steps, becoming a white blur as she shoots toward me and knocks me to the ground.
Flames erupt in the dry grass next to us as we land.
“On your feet,” she orders.
I don’t look back at the flames as we race up into the house and lock the door behind us.
Viktor watches wide-eyed as Miranda calmly snuffs the smoking hem of her skirt with her hands, gritting her teeth at the heat. When the smoke has disappeared, she tucks the hem up, shortening the flowing skirt, revealing high, flat boots.
Given her grace and gliding gate, I’d sort of assumed Miranda walked barefoot through the night.
“What’s going on?” Viktor asks, and another shot rings out.
Miranda’s face hardens, and her dark eyes turn to shards of obsidian as her lovely mouth twists into a snarl.
“They’ve returned.”
Chapter Nine
There’s no time for questions, though I’m full of them.
Daniel said Krystina wasn’t alone. We should have been prepared for this.
My steps slow as the elders turn the corner ahead of me, Miranda barking orders at their guards and the home’s caretakers. Gather the old ones. Bring the captive down. Prepare to go.
They knew. This is why they brought so many bodyguards. Not because they had any intention of leaving some behind to protect the old vampires. They just needed to make sure that they—the elders, the truly important ones—made it to safety if humans came to rescue Krystina.
The house erupts in chaos. The fire out back hasn’t reached the house, but the flames in the orchard are enough to strike fear into any vampire’s heart, and the elderly haven’t been in training for a long time. They’re not used to excitement, to danger, to controlling themselves.
Lucille, Trent, and Hannabelle descend the back staircase as I enter the kitchen. Lucille’s eyes dart from side to side in panic as she clings to Trent’s arm.
Trent, on the other hand, looks ready to rip someone’s head off.
Miranda steps in. “Where are the others?”
“Genevieve is packing,” Hannabelle says, shaking her head. “I’m not sure about Edwin.”
Miranda’s gaze flicks around the room, taking in the orange light outside, then Lucille, then Trent, who gazes back at her, his eyes cold. Miranda’s lips tighten as she turns to me, and her brow creases in the closest thing to worry I’ve ever seen on her. “Find the others. They’re yours, now.”
And then she’s gone, moving so quickly she’s nothing more than a pale blur.
For a moment, I freeze. I have two missing charges to hunt for.
But I also don’t know where Daniel is. My stomach tightens as another gunshot rings out, this one from inside the house.
Fuck.
I dart up the stairs and head for Genevieve’s room. Daniel can take care of himself, and I can’t let the fact that he’s in danger distract me when others may be less capable. I won’t let my feelings for him tempt me to abandon my duty again.
Genevieve has a hard-sided suitcase open on her bed next to a pile of clothes she’s pulled from the now-empty wardrobe.
“Genevieve, we have to go.”
She turns to me, appearing perfectly calm save for the tightness around her lips and the way her manicured fingers flutter nervously at her throat.
“We’re leaving,” she says. “I don’t know where we’re going. What do I need?”
Under other circumstances I’m sure my heart would break for this uncertain creature about to be ripped from the comfort of the only home she’s known for God knows how long. As things stand, I want to scream at her to leave everything and get out.
Her chin trembles.
I grit my teeth and tear through the pile on the bed, throwing two sweaters, her three warmest scarves, and extra socks into the suitcase. I slip into the black cashmere pullover she would have needed to leave behind. She’s not wrong. It’s going to be cold out there. “No cosmetics,” I say. “We’re travelling light.”
Her eyes widen as I slam the case shut and hand it to her. “Go to the kitchen,” I tell her, keeping my voice low and calm. “Wait with the others. Do not let them leave to get anything, understand? There may not be time.”
She nods and hurries off.
One down.
I knock on Edwin’s door, but there’s no answer. The fact that it’s locked is no deterrent. I’ve just fed, I’m at peak strength, and I care about nothing except getting the fuck out of here. I hit the wooden door with my shoulder hard enough to risk breaking bones, and the old door pops open.
The room is dark, save for the firelight flickering outside the window. It’s growing brighter. Spreading.
A black coffin lies open in the middle of the floor, empty. I check the wardrobe, but it’s too stuffed with clothes for anyone to be hidin
g in there.
I consider what I know about Edwin. He’s out of touch. Maybe crazy, if that’s possible for us. I have no way of knowing where he might have gone when an attack started. A logical person would have headed downstairs to join the others.
I go up instead, reaching the top floor as one of the black-suited bodyguards drags Krystina out of the storage room. Her hands are still bound behind her, and the vampire is forcing her to walk, though it’s obvious she can’t support her own weight. Her face is unrecognizable under the bruising and swelling left by her interrogation.
By her interrogator, to be specific.
I push that aside, along with the nausea that grips me as she opens one of her eyes and focuses on my face.
For a second a battle erupts in me that has nothing to do with the scar Silas left on my power. I’m horrified by her suffering, but a part of me is excited by it. I imagine how her pain and fear would taste, how utterly fulfilling it would be to destroy her.
This monstrous side of our nature, the side Daniel has learned to embrace, feels small now, but I can easily imagine it growing until it consumes me. I ignore it, and the feeling passes.
“Is there anyone else in there?” I ask, and the guard shakes his head as I stand aside to let him pass.
Shit, shit, shit. I follow them back down.
The upstairs sitting room is empty save for a bodyguard at the window with his gun trained on something outside. I don’t disturb him.
A thumping noise above us makes me freeze. Someone is on the roof.
For all I know, it could be Edwin planning a dramatic entrance into the fray. Even if it’s not, I may be the only one available to check it out.
Another, louder thud. I rush from the room, heading for the stairs, rolling up the sleeves of Genevieve’s sweater as I go.
I open the door and climb up onto the balcony railing, ignoring the flames below and the figures silhouetted by the light—a chain of them, at least twenty, approaching in a line that’s closing around the parts of the house not fenced in by fire.
A few others are already in the front yard, fighting with the vampire guards.
I cling tight to the corner of the wall, find my balance, then leap onto the steep roof that covers most of the second storey, grabbing hold of the tower wall when I slip on my landing. Even at this distance the firelight makes my skin tingle painfully, and I block my face with my hand as I creep upward over shingles that threaten to give way and send me crashing into the flames below.
The unmistakable sound of fist hitting flesh reaches me, even over the sounds from below. Someone grunts. Then silence. I move faster, then halt as I breach the top line of the roof.
“Edwin.”
The old vampire ignores me. The dazed human in his arms does not. His eyes roll in his head, searching for the source of my voice, obviously hoping someone has come to save him from the vampire with his lips clamped over his throat.
I swallow back the cold lump in my throat.
I’m not the saviour he’s looking for, but we do have rules.
“Edwin,” I say, louder.
The old vampire finally turns, slowly, but doesn’t release his prey. His dark eyes are bright, alert, and entirely present. For the first time, I understand. Edwin’s not crazy. He just doesn’t give a shit.
“Let him go,” I order.
The victim’s eyes close. He’s not dead, but he’s close.
Edwin lifts his face and licks the blood off his lips, but doesn’t set his prey down. “Do you know how long it’s been?” he asks. He’s speaking to me, but looking almost lovingly at the man in his arms. “Do you know what we’re all missing out on?”
“I do,” I admit, and for once it doesn’t feel like confessing a mortal sin. Edwin was around before the clan system, before the clubs. He’s killed. He understands the ache that comes when we stop short of taking a life, what lies on the other side of a human’s death under our fangs. The bliss. The perfect rapture and feeling of everything being right, like we’re fulfilling some grand destiny.
I step forward, and a shingle slips from under my boot, rattling over the gutter and falling to the ground. I catch myself and take another step. “We need to let the elders deal with him.”
“He’s going to die anyway. Who’ll know?”
“Come on. The house is going to burn. The others are waiting. We need to go.”
I’m focused on Edwin, on doing my job, while at the same time trying to figure out why the hell it’s so important to me to not let this old vampire have his fun. Maybe I’m just jealous.
I don’t hear the footsteps until they’re right behind me.
I spin away, adjusting my balance to the uneven surface beneath me, and catch sight of a black-clad figure. Female. Young. Her freckled face and blue eyes freeze me in my tracks.
“Gracie,” I whisper, knowing it’s wrong. My eyes are lying to me. This woman is older than my sister would be now, if not by much, and half a country away from where I left my only sibling.
But the resemblance is eerie enough that it brings my old self, my old life, crashing back over me in a way I haven’t felt since I left the recovery facility and took on my new identity. For a moment I’m weak. Afraid. Confused.
I shake it off as she pulls a gun from a holster on her belt. I lunge at her, grabbing her by the wrist, snapping the bones. She grunts, and the gun drops down and slides off the roof.
But she’s no Krystina Koffin, this one. Without a moment of hesitation, she reaches behind her with her free hand and produces a heavy silver chain. I squeeze her wrist harder. She screams, but doesn’t lose control. She shakes out the coils of her weapon as a larger human male appears behind her, climbing a rope up to the roof.
At least they don’t seem to have breached the doors yet.
Edwin tosses his unfinished meal off the edge of the roof and roars as he races toward this new foe, attacking with bare hands.
My attacker swings the chain at my ankles. I release her wrist and jump, keeping out of range, but she seems to have expected it. Her swing continues back and up, and the chain smashes against my left forearm as I block the blow.
Fuck.
Bright, searing pain courses up my arm, spreading through my body, nearly blinding in its intensity.
Silver, but it’s never hurt me like this before. It can inhibit my supernatural strength if it stays in contact with my skin, but it shouldn’t burn.
It should only hurt a werewolf this badly.
My shred of werewolf power flares up like a wildfire, carrying animal terror through my body. I force it down, willing it to drown in the black depths of the void. My efforts do nothing for the pain, but at least I can focus.
I flex my fingers quickly, making sure my arm’s not broken, then run at her. She won’t be able to get a good swing in if I’m close. I tackle her, and we slide toward the rear edge of the roof.
Toward the flames.
I brace my foot against the gutter as we hit the edge and pin her with my weight as I grab at the chain. She struggles, trying to wrap its length around my neck. It burns where it touches my skin, but I’m expecting it now. I grip the chain in one hand and tear it from her grip.
I’m hurt, but I’m still a vampire. Still stronger than her.
She glares up at me as I pin her hands against the roof.
And I hesitate.
God, she looks like Gracie.
My sister. My everything. Young. Human.
I need to kill her. Break her neck, tear her throat out. It could be so good.
I can’t.
I’m shaking, and nothing makes sense.
Do it, I scream at myself inside my head.
Nothing happens.
I want to ask her who she is, who she’s working for, what brought her to this. Instead, I croak out one word.
“Why?”
She spits in my face. “Because Blood Defenders will never rest until you all burn.” She bucks under me, and I almost lose my bal
ance.
More footsteps on the roof. I look up, hoping to see Edwin coming. Instead, Daniel appears. He slows.
“Are there more?” I ask.
“Not up here. Edwin’s inside. Finish that one. We need to leave. Now.”
His tone leaves no room for argument. I know he’s there to back me up if she tries to escape. This is my moment to prove myself.
“Aviva,” he says. “The house is catching. Leave the body here.”
I barely hear him. I understand the order on an intellectual level. Kill her. Kill a living human. She attacked me. She deserves this.
My mouth has gone dry. I can’t speak. Can’t move.
I swore I’d never kill another human. When I look into her eyes, there’s so much life there. It’s familiar. It’s Gracie. It’s me, once.
Daniel slides down the roof, knocking several shingles loose, stopping above the hunter. He reaches down, grips her head in both hands, and twists.
I scream as the spirit and life drain from her blue eyes.
Daniel meets my gaze. I wait for him to do something to my mind, to make me forget this somehow, like he did to that cop. Instead, he takes my hand in his, gently releasing my grip on the human’s wrist. He looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him, but it’s cold anger. There’s something else in his eyes, too, but my mind has gone too blank for me to be able to identify it.
“Follow me,” he says, and releases me.
I almost wish he hadn’t. I kind of need someone to drag me away from this mess.
Another gunshot from below shakes me from my stupor, and I take off after him, climbing the steep roof, following him back to the balcony door. That long step from roof to railing should be terrifying, but it barely registers.
I failed again.
“Daniel, I’m sorry, I—”
“Later,” he says. “We need to get the old ones out.”
We descend the stairs. Viktor and Raymond wait by the door like they’re expecting company.