Dark Magic (Darkhaven Saga Book 2)

by Danielle Rose

  Dark Magic

  Darkhaven Saga: Book Two

  Danielle Rose

  This book is an original publication of Waterhouse Press.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2020 Waterhouse Press, LLC

  Original Cover Design by Wicked by Design

  Cover Redesign by Waterhouse Press

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Acknowledgments

  Continue the Darkhaven Saga with

  Also by Danielle Rose

  About Danielle Rose

  For Mom—

  for believing in me, for supporting me,

  and for being a better mom than Tatiana.

  This one is for you.

  Chapter One

  There’s something about the scent of blood from the undead. Its stagnant odor doesn’t compare to the sweet aroma of the innocent. A girl could lose her mind thinking about the hot, crimson liquid coursing through a human’s veins. I surrender myself to that very thought, even though I’m not actually feeding.

  Even now, the scent of blood lingers in the air. It forms a heavy mist, coating my lungs with its tantalizing fragrance. It may not smell as lovely as human blood, but I react nonetheless. Instincts take over, and my stomach squeezes tightly in response. Pain flashes through me like a dagger to the gut. It feels like I haven’t eaten in weeks, and even though I tell myself that’s not true, my innards don’t believe me. The pain never lessens. Instead, it permeates through me, like the spread of lightning on a hot summer day. It crawls across my skin, fanning like a sticky spider web.

  When I was mortal, cannibalism—let alone self-cannibalism—never crossed my mind as something I’d be willing to try, but as I clutch my wounded arm to my chest, I fight the urge to relish in my own blood. I’m fairly certain feeding on myself won’t sustain me, but the desire to lick my own arm clean doesn’t wane.

  The air is heavy in my lungs. Each inhalation stings painfully, and I’m reminded that even the undead can die for good.

  My breath comes in short, shallow huffs. I try to remain still, to calm my racing heart, but my chest burns from hunger. The pain has reached my heart, and with each passing second, the desire to feed overpowers my need to protect myself.

  I know if I keep up this way of thinking, I won’t survive the night.

  My legs ache from running, so I rest against the trunk of a nearby tree. I’m surrounded by forest, the uninhabited land that cocoons the small town of Darkhaven—but I’m not alone.

  My head is spinning, and I suspect it’s from blood loss. I inspect my injury. Blood is smeared across my arm in thick slashes. I was careless. My attacker didn’t have a weapon; I did. I was cocky, an all-too-confident amateur among experts. I didn’t account for the force behind his vicious fists. There are five perfect streaks from where I raised my arms in defense to block his attack.

  I wince when my fingers come into contact with tissue that was never meant to be bared. I curse inwardly as a rush of pain surges through me. It shouldn’t take long to heal—one of the perks of being a vampire. Unfortunately, my strength is dwindling. The more energy I use to heal, the weaker I become.

  I need to make a decision quickly. Am I the predator or the prey?

  I settle on the ground, pulling my knees to my chest as I listen to my surroundings. Somewhere out there, there are at least a half dozen rogue vampires. I know he sent them. He’s the monster that haunts my dreams. He’s the reason I’ll never see my eighteenth birthday as a mortal. He’s the reason I was forsaken by the witches and left to fend for myself among the vampires.

  I hate him with every fiber of my being, and I know he’s watching, waiting for the perfect time to strike. He won’t stop until he’s claimed my soul—but I plan to take his first.

  I’m annoyed by both his perseverance and cowardice. Instead of facing me himself, he sent his lackeys to do his dirty work. Each one is becoming more brazen than the next. This time, they caught Jasik and me off guard and smartly separated us.

  Somewhere in these woods too far from home, where allies await our return, Jasik, my sire, is fighting for his life—and it’s all because I wasn’t strong enough to finish off my assailant the first time we met in that cemetery over a month ago. I grind my teeth at the thought of our initial meeting.

  I was wounded and exhausted from a fight and from protecting Liv, my childhood best friend who was an inexperienced warrior. I had the audacity to feel grateful when he willingly left without a fight. After all, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to fight off another vampire, but I should have tried. I might have won, and I wouldn’t be in the predicament I’m in now.

  I used to think I wasn’t a novice warrior, but letting my enemy escape was a rookie mistake—one I’m still paying for. I have a sneaking suspicion I will be paying for this mistake for the rest of my life.

  The sound of twigs snapping under weight reaches my ears. I stop mentally berating myself for past mistakes and jolt upright. My arm isn’t fully healed yet, but with each passing second, revitalized flesh threads together. Braided muscles intertwine with the old to make me stronger, faster, better. Soon, it’ll look as if I was never wounded to begin with. I may not be shipshape yet, but this will have to do. I can’t keep hiding in the brush, praying I’m not found. I’m no coward, and I won’t let Jasik die fighting my battles.

  I make eye contact with those who approach. Their crimson irises burn into mine. If looks could actually kill, I’d erupt into flames right about now. I can only hope the death daggers I’m throwing back are just as menacing.

  The rogue vampires whistle as they make their way toward me. I step away from the tree and swallow hard. I clench my jaw shut and stand straighter, stronger. I’m outnumbered, but I’ve been training to fight vampires my whole life. I protected Darkhaven and my former witch coven from these evil creatures long before I became one myself. The only difference now is I can match their strength, their speed, their ferocity. I’m no ordinary witch anymore. I’m a witch-turned-vampire, and there’s no wrath greater than that of a witch scorned.

  I’m running before I’ve even decided to be the first to attack. It’s as if my limbs have minds of their own. My attacks are instinctual and predatory. I race toward danger with the effortless ease of a lion hunting a gazelle. Unlike the lion, I have no intention of feeding on these beasts, but I will introduce them to the darkness that awaits after my stake plunges into their hearts.

  The rogue vampires lunge toward me, and just before we make contact, I pounce into the air, striking both attackers in the chin with my feet. I kick up my legs with such force, I flip backward, landing several yards from the vampires. As my prey crawls to their feet, I withdraw my stake. It takes mere seconds for me to plunge it into the chest of one of the vampires. His eyes nearly
bulge from their sockets before his entire body combusts into ash. The wind carries his remains away while I turn to face my final victim.

  His fist meets my jaw with a hard snap. The crunch of bone rocks me to my core, and I stumble backward. I fall against a tree and cradle my chin in my hand. Blood spews from a laceration to my gums, and I greedily suck it down. Smiling, the rogue vampire licks his lips before charging toward me.

  I glance around for my stake, finding it several paces in front of me. I know I’ll never reach it in time.

  I dig my fingers into the soil and wait until the vampire is in perfect range. As soon as he is, I kick my legs forward, thrashing at his chest. I plant a solid foot against his breastbone, and the vampire stumbles backward, falling to the ground in a reckless heap.

  I jump forward, careful not to move my jaw as my bone mends. I plop onto the vampire’s torso rather clumsily and dodge several of his weak attempts to remove me. I slam my legs together—once, twice, three times—and the vampire howls beneath me. I hear the echo of a rib cracking against pressure, and I have to fight the urge to smile—mainly because my jaw is technically still broken.

  Just as I’m about to land a kill punch to the throat—one that will surely decapitate him—I see the flash of dark silver in the corner of my eye. I turn in time for the vampire to thrust my stake toward me. I didn’t notice him scratching at the ground in his attempt to recover my weapon; I was too busy dodging his assaults. Suddenly, I understand why his punches were so shoddy. He was distracting me long enough to grab my stake.

  The flash of metal is charging toward me, piercing the air as it nearly plunges into my chest. I grab on to the vampire’s wrists and try to hold him back. But he’s stronger than I am. For every centimeter I’m able to push him backward, he pushes forward two more. Soon, the tip that’s graced so many vampire hearts is dangerously close to my own. The magic-infused silver tears through my jacket, and then my shirt, and soon, it’s teasing the soft skin of my chest.

  Once again, I smell my own blood as it wafts into the air around us. I cry out as the metal digs deeper into my flesh. My arms are weak, my jaw aches, and my heart is heavy. I don’t want to say it—to even think it—but I fear I may not survive this battle.

  Unable to hold on much longer, I slam my forehead against the vampire’s. He winces on impact but doesn’t falter. I hit him again and again, and just when I’m certain I can’t hold him off any longer, his grip loosens.

  I thrust my arms upward, forcing his apart. I hear the distinct sound of my stake falling to the ground as I smack my palm upward. I slam against the vampire’s jaw with such force, his head is thrown backward. His arms slump beside him before his body dissolves into ash.

  With the vampire dusted beneath me, I slouch forward, chest heaving. I wrap my fingers around the familiar cool metal of my stake and scan my surroundings. I know these two vampires aren’t the only rogues stalking the forest tonight. If I’m not careful, I really may meet an untimely fate.

  I sheath my stake in my jacket’s inner breast pocket just as the night silence is pierced by a shriek. The deep timbre of this particular voice is one I will never forget. I know it well, but I’ve never heard such agony, such fear, come from it.

  Jasik is in trouble.

  Without thinking or fearing for my own life, I dash through the forest, running toward each wail and praying my sire will survive the torture the rogues are inflicting.

  With each step, the sound of his pain grows louder, and my ears ring from the noise. I worry I won’t make it in time, but I cast those dark thoughts from my head and focus on my mission. I will save him.

  I whip past fallen leaves and tear through brush, the crunch of dying foliage echoing through the forest. If the rogues thought I was dead, they certainly don’t think that anymore.

  Memories of a similar chase spring to mind, and my vision clouds momentarily. By the time I blink away the flashback, I almost collide with a tree trunk and am nearly decapitated by a low-hanging branch. I tumble forward, falling to my knees and skidding across the harsh landscape. The rough scrape of rocks against my shins sends shock waves through my body.

  Clumsily, I stand, legs wobbling as I regain my composure. I brush off my hands and come to a screeching halt.

  The remaining rogues surround Jasik. Blood pours from his mouth, seeping down his chin and splattering onto the ground. He lies still momentarily before struggling to stand. Finally, he withdraws his weapon, hand gripping the wrapped-leather handle of his blade. He spins in circles, waiting for the first attacks. I can’t deny how eerily similar this resembles a witch circle. I shake away the feeling and ready myself to assist my sire. I just need to get Jasik’s attention first.

  As if our sire bond really did grant him psychic awareness, Jasik makes eye contact with me at the exact moment the rogues anticipate my arrival. We are severely outnumbered. I know there is no way we will survive this attack without help.

  Something is said silently between us—a mutual understanding of our devastating predicament. We’re both too stubborn to run for the hills, and we’re both too smart to know that we’d never outrun a dozen rogues anyway. I nod in understanding.

  Before I can make my move, the rogues are breaking away from Jasik and running toward me. I gasp, jaw slack with fear, and watch as they trample over the very brush I couldn’t weave through without falling on my butt. I manage to tear my gaze from the sight before me and meet Jasik’s eyes. He too is shocked by this turn of events. It’s clear the rogues were never after him. They wanted me. Of course, I didn’t need confirmation. I know who sent them, but now, Jasik does too.

  I have maybe five seconds to save myself. The moment they’re within reaching distance, I’m done. It will be over. I could barely handle myself against two rogues. I will never survive a dozen at once. Whoever decided rogue vampires are naturally more ferocious and stronger than regular vampires can suck it. Hard.

  I’m shaking. I squeeze my palms, balling my hands into fists at my sides. My arms dangle, and my limbs become heavy. Fear erupts within me, threatening to consume every crevice of this immortal coil. I fight back the urge to…what? I can’t explain what I’m feeling. I don’t want to cry or run or scream. I don’t want to die. In fact, I crave bloodshed in ways I never dreamed possible. But this bloodshed is never mine.

  I tease the growing sensation that’s forming in the pit of my gut. With each tantalizing internal caress, this urge strengthens.

  My chest heaves, my breathing becoming erratic and loud. I clench my jaw shut, and all I can hear is each staggering breath echoing in my mind.

  My heart is racing, my skin slick with sweat. Suddenly, I realize how unbearably hot it’s become. The air around me is hazy, and when the mist lands on my skin, it sizzles and burns upon impact.

  My arms are extended beside me, but I don’t remember raising them. I’m shaking so badly now, I can barely stand straight. My knees buckle as I wobble from side to side, desperately trying to maintain my hold on…on whatever it is I have within my grasp.

  I don’t understand what’s going on, but something within me is screaming at me not to stop. It’s begging me to trust this alien presence, to succumb to it. I’m overwhelmed with the startling realization that this thing is our only chance at salvation. I came here to save Jasik, but instead, I will save myself. I have never played the role of damsel in distress, and I don’t plan to start now. I am a savior.

  The acidic heat is boiling within me, and I know it won’t be long before the volcanic eruption wipes out everything within this forest. The second I try to warn Jasik with my eyes, I know it’s already too late.

  A brutal gasp of air is ripped from my lungs, and I wail louder, stronger, more fiercely than I ever believed possible. The sound leaving my lips sounds nothing like me. It’s filled with such anger, such hatred, such power.

  With each second I expel this foreign substance from the depths of my soul, a blast of heat permeates from my hands, my arms, m
y mouth. I struggle to control the blazing inferno that’s seeping from my body.

  The rogue vampires scream as the flames lick their skin, quickly turning each to ash. As soon as the final rogue embarks on his journey straight to hell, the power within me recoils. The flames retreat from the forest around me, dancing across the shadows until I swallow them whole.

  I fall to my knees, weakened. Chest heaving, I run the back of my hand across my slick forehead and tumble over, but Jasik is there to catch me. He lifts me gently, cradling my body in his arms. He wipes away the hair that’s clinging to my skin and whispers that I’m okay, that we’re okay.

  I’m not sure how much time passes, but when I’m finally strong enough to stand on my own, Jasik releases me without objection. I claw at my chest, bunching the fabric of my jacket and T-shirt until I feel the strong, steady beat of my heart. I replay what happened over and over again, but each recollection of the events offers no greater explanation as to what actually happened.

  “Ava?” Jasik speaks cautiously.

  I nod in response but don’t look at him. I’m still reeling from the events that just transpired.

  “What was that?” he asks.

  I swallow the knot that’s formed in my throat and turn to face him. When I finally respond, my voice is but a whisper.

  “Magic.”

  Chapter Two

  We are returning home in silence. Having just killed more than a dozen rogue vampires, we should be rejoicing. Our spirits should be high. There should be a party, with spiked blood and dancing under the stars while bathed in moonlight. Perhaps we’d even be skin-clad, and I would thank the moon for another night of eternal life. And once the party draws to an end, I should be looking for Malik, Jasik’s brother, to discuss battle plans. Our training should continue as scheduled after I report the death toll to Amicia.