by Rye Brewer
I was more terrified than ever. To keep me unharmed. What did that mean? Why was it so important? Was I to be some sort of sacrifice?
A cottage stood just ahead of us. I nearly froze in place. Only one type of creature lived in a cottage like that. Another thing lore had gotten right, or maybe the witches had built such cottages to keep up their image. Whatever the reason, I felt a certain sort of terror at the thought of being taken to a witch.
My werewolf chuckled. “I smell your fear, vampire girl,” he growled.
“I smell your stench, you filthy beast. Don’t you ever bathe?”
He chuckled nastily as he dragged me through the door just after two werewolves stepped out. They were even bigger than the werewolf holding my arm. Whoever she was, she had a small army of werewolves, I realized. Her own werewolf army to do her bidding. Just how powerful was she?
I soon found out.
The cottage was so small and even cozy looking outside—even to the point of little wisps of smoke coming from a stone chimney. Like something from a fairytale. But the witch who lived in the cottage in the woods was never a benevolent witch. Not in the fairy tales, and not in real life. She was never the type to hand out cookies to lost children and help them find their way home.
Inside, was an entirely different story. It reminded me of the sort of palace somebody like Marcus should live in, and would probably build if given his druthers. Stone, cold and unyielding, composed the walls and floors. The high vaulted ceilings were wood. I shivered as the werewolves dragged Sara and me down a long hall full of shadow and the sounds of scurrying creatures. I didn’t want to know what sat in those shadows. Whatever it was, it was big. Probably monsters I didn’t want to imagine.
A large room. Dim light filtered through high, narrow windows caked in dirt.
“For someone who can afford to live in a place like this, I’d think they’d have a cleaning crew on hand.”
“Thank you for your advice.” The voice was low, deep, rich. Yet somehow, at the same time, it was cold. Calculating. Angry.
I turned, one of the werewolf’s massive hands still on my arm, to find a tall, thin figure descending a long set of stairs. From a distance, she was beautiful. The closer she came, the shoddier the illusion became until she revealed her full ruin to us.
Yes, she’d been beautiful once—maybe gloriously beautiful, maybe radiant. Time had not been kind. She reminded me of that old wooden shack. It had once been a home, and once been warm and inviting at the end of a long day. Now it was just walls and a bare floor. Empty, scarred.
Cold blue eyes flecked with silver seemed to leap at me in the dim light.
The werewolf held out his hand, my blades in his clutch. He handed my blades to the witch woman. “We took these off her.”
“Thank you.” She gave them a quick glance then took them and put them on a shelf.
She turned back to me. “So, here you are. I’ve been waiting a long time for you. My name is Malory. Welcome.”
She welcomes me as if I’m an invited guest. She would make a great mate for Marcus.
I frowned. “How could you be waiting for me when you don’t know me?”
“I’ve known about you, my dear.” She lifted one arm, and the sleeve of the deep-purple robe she wore fell back to reveal a thin hand with long, skinny fingers and yellowed nails. She stroked my cheek with one of those nails.
My stomach turned.
“What have you known?” I asked, doing everything I could to sound brave when I wanted nothing more than to scream and shrink away.
When did I become a shrinking violet?
About the time a squadron of werewolves surrendered me to a wicked witch.
“I’ve known you’re a special girl.” She took a step back, brushing her long, frizzy gray hair over one shoulder. “I’ve known those of your clan have rejected you.”
“Rejected? I don’t think I would go that far.”
“I would,” she said, her voice still patient but also still with a cold, calculating note.
It felt as though I was a project she was studying in person for the first time. She drank me in with her eyes, checking me out, head to toe, up and down, walking in slow circles around me. It was unnerving. She made me feel naked though I was still fully clothed.
“I know how they’ve treated you because I’ve been aware of you since you were born. I know everything about you.”
Creepy. Stalker much?
“Oh? I’m sure you’re disappointed,” I tossed out. “I mean, there’s not that much to know about me.”
“Stop underestimating yourself, my dear.” She stroked my arm with one hand, and again I felt ill.
What was it about me that made her find me so worthwhile, so fascinating?
Her smile was chilling. “For one thing, you never knew your father. Isn’t that true?”
My insides went cold, colder than usual, what with being a vampire and all. My instinct was to lie to her, to tell her anything but what she wanted to hear. Yet when she stared into my eyes as she was doing just then, I had no choice but to tell the truth. “Yes. That’s true. I didn’t know him. He died when I was very small.”
“In the War, isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“So you were told,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I’ve always believed in telling children the truth. Why lie? Why concoct stories which will serve to pain the child as it grows? It’s the same as telling them they couldn’t be trusted with the truth. Who wants to hear that from those who claim to love them?”
I shook my head as she had, trying to clear her out of my thoughts. She was like a hook in my mind, picking at my brain. Was she telling me things she already knew, or was she reading my thoughts?
“These are things I already knew,” she assured me.
This statement frightened me more. So, she did read what I was thinking. I imagined a brick wall, thick and strong, to keep her out.
She narrowed those beautiful eyes of hers—the singular beautiful thing left in her—and her thin lips curved into a smile. “So, you think you can block me? That’s fine. I’ll tell you what else I know about you, then. Something you couldn’t possibly have known, and thus I couldn’t have read from your thoughts. Are you ready?”
I wasn’t. I was nowhere near ready. I’d never be ready. Ever. But I stiffened my spine anyway and nodded in defiance.
“You see, this is why you were always shunned—or, at best, barely tolerated.” Her eyes flickered over to where Sara stood.
She hadn’t looked at Sara until just now, I realized.
Then the witch returned her attention to me. “Your sister, too, by association.”
She smiled then took a step back, hands clasped in front of her. “Did you ever wonder why silver doesn’t affect you?”
I gasped. I couldn’t help it. The surprise was too much to hide.
Hell, yes, I’ve wondered. For a long, long time.
She nodded. “And why you seem to have the ability to glean bits of thoughts—or, at least, feelings? And why you’re so naturally inclined toward your, ahem, night work?” She smiled nastily. “Did you ever wonder why Marcus chose you for the job you were assigned?”
“That was in exchange for…” I trailed off. I didn’t want Sara to find out this way.
Malory nodded. “I know that, too. But come, now. Weren’t there a million other things your leader could have asked you to do? Why that one, specific task and not one of the others?”
I couldn’t answer that question. Hadn’t I asked myself the same thing so many times? Why be so cruel as to ask me to kill others?
“And your last job?” She clicked her tongue in mock sympathy, her gray hair swaying back and forth as she shook her head. “What a tragedy. A vampire of your age should be enjoying existence, not ending the existence of others.”
I drew a sharp breath when I heard Sara’s gasp just beside me. So she knew. I couldn’t bear to look at her. I didn’t want her to think
I resented her in any way, and that was just the way she’d taken it, too. I knew her that well.
“Anissa,” Malory, the evil witch said, speaking my name like an enchantment. “Your father was not like your mother. She went, shall we say, outside the clan. And she was never fully forgiven for it.”
“What do you mean, not like my mother? Not of her clan?” A thought snaked its way into my head. Then I gave it a voice. “Not a vampire?” Horror raced through me. I was a half-breed? That would explain so much.
“Not a vampire,” she confirmed. “Something much more special, more magical.”
She leaned in and whispered a single word in my ear.
“Fae.”
12
Anissa
My eyes flew wide open as the world crashed in on me. It wasn’t possible. My mother wouldn’t do that.
“How can you tell such lies?” I asked, breathless.
She stared me in the eye, searching. “You don’t think it’s a lie. You see the truth in it. That’s why you’re reacting this way.”
“No. Not in a million years.”
“Anissa, Anissa. Come now. It never once occurred to you to question why silver has no effect on you?”
“That’s why you’re so good with that blade,” the scarred werewolf snarled.
The witch shot him a nasty, threatening glance. That was all it took to silence him. She turned back to me, rolling her eyes with an almost conspiratorial expression.
“As I was saying,” she continued in the same measured tone of voice. “You’re special because you carry the blood of both vampire and fae inside you. You possess the same sort of magic they possess.” She reached out one of those long, withered fingers again, this time to touch my hair. “Have you ever wondered about this? Don’t you know hair this shade is a telltale sign of the fae? And your golden eyes? Don’t you see?”
I shook my head, shaking her hand off my hair in the process. She made me ill. I wanted to put as much distance between us as possible.
“I still don’t understand why that concerns you,” I said, straining to get my thoughts straight. I couldn’t let her shake me the way she had. I couldn’t give her that power over me. “My life is none of your business. My history is none of your concern.”
“But it is,” she said. “You see, I’m of mixed blood, too. It weakens me.”
“You’re a witch,” I said.
“Yes, but that’s like saying you’re just a vampire. And we both know that isn’t true, don’t we?” She smiled. I was almost sure she’d wink, but she stopped short. “As it turns out, I’m also part vampire. I’m as much vampire as you are, in fact. Half.”
“Stop saying that,” I hissed.
Half-vampire. Even further outcast than a rogue. I would never find a tribe, anyone to whom I belonged. The fae regarded vampires as lesser creatures, and the sentiment went both ways. I would never fit in. Even if Sara were somehow accepted, I wouldn’t be accepted with her. We’d be apart, even though I’d tried so hard to keep us together.
“You don’t like to hear the truth?” Malory asked, toying with me.
I wished I could strangle her or take my blade and slice her to ribbons with it.
From the way her expression darkened, she could see the image in my head. “It doesn’t make it any less true, girl, no matter whether you want to hear it or not. You have the blood of the fae, and you can see it as a curse or a blessing.”
“A blessing?” I wasn’t so stupid that I didn’t see why she’d had me brought to her—well, I didn’t know the specifics, but I knew it had to do with my blood. That was why she kept bringing it up, why she knew so much about me in the first place. It was what brought me to her, so it was no blessing. Nothing but a curse.
“It gives you abilities other vampires don’t have. It’s always seemed funny to me, the way they prize so-called purebloods. Mixing the blood with that of other magical creatures, such as witches and the fae, that adds richness and depth to the power possible. I mean, it allows you to touch silver without burning, doesn’t it? And that’s just the beginning. You have power you never knew, never dreamed of.”
I saw from the half-mad look in her eye she thought this was a good thing—and she wanted that power. I would have gladly handed it over if she would let me and my sister leave forever. I didn’t want power. I wanted to be normal, accepted, part of a decent and protective clan.
“I suppose you want to show me how to use that power, then?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. “Is that why you’ve brought me here?”
She blinked once, twice, then laughed. It rang throughout the great hall, bouncing off the walls and ceiling, reverberating through the space.
I wished I could cover my ears to block it but couldn’t move both hands—and even if I could, I would have felt it in my chest.
“To show you how to use your power? Is that what you thought? Oh, my dear, you’re even more delightful than I ever could have guessed. That was one thing I never picked up on.”
I waited for her to correct me. When she didn’t, I prompted. “Well? What is it? I’m getting a little sick of being so close to this wretched beast.” I yanked my arm, but his grip remained firm.
“Yes, yes, I understand you don’t care for my soldiers. Don’t worry. You won’t have to spend much more time with them. Not where you’re going.” She snapped her fingers and turned with a theatrical flourish, then seemed to float across the floor.
For all I knew, she was floating. Her long robe hid the movement of her feet.
I knew better than to ask where they were taking us. I wouldn’t get an answer. Instead, I paid sharp attention to the route we took to get there. Straight ahead out of the great hall, past five doors, then a right at the four-way intersection of halls, then down five doors to a staircase. I repeated it all in my head, again and again, struggling to keep track, so I’d remember how to get back out of here when the time came. Straight, five, right, five, stairs. I would do it all in reverse on my escape, turning left instead of right, but, otherwise, it was the same.
I realized with dismay we’d been led to a dungeon.
Sara groaned. I knew what she was thinking: from one dungeon to another.
Doors lined the hall, doors with little barred windows. I tried to look into the windows, but they were too high for me to see through. I could only imagine the squalor inside, seeing how filthy and rotten the rest of the place seemed. Just like its owner.
One of the doors sat open, and Malory paused before it. I didn’t get the chance to pause. Instead, my captor shoved me into the cell. On the walls were two sets of shackles. Did she think mere metal could contain a vampire?
“Don’t bother trying to break free of your bonds,” she said, probably reading my mind again. “It’s enchanted iron. There’s no breaking it. You could try from now until the end of time, but it would only tire you.”
“Wonderful.” Enchanted iron. I would never be able to get through it. I winced as the werewolf closed the shackles over my wrists much tighter than he needed to.
There was no missing the look of pleasure on his face. He left the room, and Malory took his spot. She stood in front of me, looking me up and down as she had before. She didn’t say a word. She only stared with the expression of a creature that had finally gotten what it wanted after a very long time. It gave me the chills.
I waited for them to bring Sara in to me. When they didn’t, I started to panic. “What are you doing?” I asked, straining to free myself. “What are you doing with my sister?”
“I don’t need her,” Malory said, waving a hand. She glanced over at the werewolves holding my sister between them. “Kill her.”
Sara burst into tears.
I didn’t cry. I exploded. “What? No! No, you can’t!” I struggled, screaming. “Why? Why are you doing this? Sara!”
“I don’t need her,” Malory said again. “She doesn’t have fae blood, you do.”
“Wait, wait! Don’t do anything yet!
” I turned to her, glaring coldly. “What do you need me for? Why have you chained me up?”
Malory sighed as though talking to a very unintelligent, very willful child. “You see, as long as I have vampire blood, I’m susceptible to the same things a vampire is susceptible to. The same weaknesses. I could die just as easily as any vampire, though I am a witch.” She seemed to tremble with what I could only think of as rage. Not even fear. Like she couldn’t hear the thought of being weak.
“So you need what from me?” I needed to get to the heart of what she wanted. There was no time to mince words. I could sense the werewolves wanted to rip my precious sister to shreds.
“Your blood.”
I froze. Horror pulsed through me, sure and steady and true. I should have known, shouldn’t I? She wanted my fae blood for her own, since she was weak. Fae were practically immortal, able to live for thousands of years. And my host had clearly already lived a very long time. She was reaching the end of her life. She wanted youth, power, longevity.
“You want to feed off of me?” I asked, just to be clear.
“Correct. Every day. I can’t do it all at once, of course. It needs to be done over a long period of time, so I can build immunity.”
What a hideous thought. “And you don’t want my sister because she doesn’t have my blood? Fae blood, I mean?”
“That’s right. You see how extraneous she is. Had she not been with you at the time my soldiers found you, she wouldn’t be here with you right now.”
I pressed my lips together to suppress a moan. Right. If I hadn’t rescued my sister, she wouldn’t be with me. I had ruined her life. I had ended her life.
Then, something occurred to me. “No.”
“Excuse me?” It felt as though the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. It might have, for all I knew. My hostess might be able to control the weather. Some witches could.
“I said no. You won’t kill my sister if you have any wish to feed off me.”
Malory laughed again, but it wasn’t the laugh I’d heard in the great hall. It didn’t reverberate. It was cold, vicious. “What makes you think you have any choice?”