I consider our depleted hybrid bodies. Together, can two halves make a whole? Can we combine our efforts to heal Jasik? Slowly, his body is healing itself, but he has not the time to wait for muscle to thread and bone to form. The moment one of these witches realizes he is badly injured, she will take it upon herself to end my sire’s life once and for all. And that I will not allow.
I see Malik sparring with a witch I have never before seen, and I call for him, screaming his name with such agony, such desperation, such absolute terror, he halts. He freezes, if only for a second, and then uses the witch’s distraction to end her life.
My trainer searches the grounds, seeking my voice, and when he finds me, he panics. I imagine what this must look like to him. I am sitting on the ground, covered in blood and sweat, and tears are streaming down my cheeks. Jasik, unmoving, is cradled in my arms.
I have never before seen such dread, such love and devotion in the eyes of a vampire who has trouble expressing his emotions. I fear for any witch who tries to block his path, for she will not survive his vengeance.
The moment someone does step between Malik and his brother, I squeeze my eyes shut. Because I know this witch. I remember her from before. She is older and powerful, and she was nice to me. She would sit with me for hours and talk about how pleasant Darkhaven used to be—before coven after coven moved into the village, claiming the town as their own. She spoke of a long-ago feud between the witches of Darkhaven before they all decided to simply share the town. They offer no such courtesy to the vampires.
When I open my eyes again, the witch I once knew is lying on the ground. Malik’s hand is covered in blood, and he is stomping forward. His tunnel vision allows him to see nothing but us, nothing but his baby brother on the brink of death.
I do not look at her body anymore, because she does not move. Her chest is stained with crimson, her legs have buckled awkwardly, and her head is angled to face me. I do not know if her eyes are open. I do not know if she sees me aiding the vampires and not her. I do not bother looking—not because I do not want to see the accusations within her lifeless gaze, but because there is nothing I can do for her. The witches were warned, and still, they waged war. They should know better than anyone. In war, there are casualties.
“What happened?” Malik says. He is close enough for me to hear him, and he skids on his knees to a stop and assesses the damage.
“He is hurt!” I shout. “Help him!”
“Ava,” Malik says, his voice calm. With his eyes, he tells me to calm down, to just breathe, and I know everything will be okay. Malik will not let his brother die. He would give his life to save Jasik’s, and I pray it will not come to that.
With Malik’s back turned on the witches, he lifts his gasping brother into his arms. Jasik’s legs flop like jelly beside his older brother’s, but he leans against him. With an arm wrapped around Malik’s shoulders, Jasik trudges forward, wincing at the pain.
“Why isn’t he healing?” I shout as I jump to my feet. My own throbbing leg protests, and I grind my teeth in response.
“This was a nearly deadly wound, Ava,” Malik says, voice heavy. He grunts as he maintains his hold on his brother, who is offering little assistance as they escape the battlefield.
“But he will be okay?” I ask.
Malik does not respond, and I do not push for answers. Because as their backs are turned, another witch is rushing forward. Arms thrown out to her sides, she calls upon her element. I do not have to guess which element will aid her. She has the look—the confident gleam—of a fire witch. One spark, and Malik and Jasik are toast.
I block her attack, putting my body between her and them.
“No!” I shout. I throw out my arms, blocking her with merely my palms. It is a fool’s errand, but I cannot back down.
She stops abruptly, furrowing her brow. She is confused, her gaze darting between the vampires and me. Malik glances over his shoulder and tries to move quicker. He is heading straight for the fence that separates Mamá’s property and the woods beyond.
I fumble with my jacket but soon withdraw my stake. It is a child’s toy compared with a fire witch’s magic, but it is all I have to protect them, to protect me.
“Move out of my way, girl,” the witch says. She is another unknown face in a fury of violence. How has Mamá found so many witches willing to die for a cause they do not understand?
“That is not going to happen,” I say. I straighten my back, standing taller, stronger. I may not be the strongest witch here, but I can certainly slow down this stranger enough to protect my friends.
“Do you really think you can stop me?” the girl says. “Look around, you are all alone.”
“No, she is not alone,” a voice says.
From behind, Will emerges. He stands beside me and grabs my hand. We interlock fingers, and I feel a rush of magic coursing between us. The witch falters. It is brief, but her momentary lapse is all I need to feel stronger. She is scared. Not of me. But of us. Together, maybe we really do form one pissed-off hybrid.
I see the moment the girl decides to call upon her magic. The instant she chooses life over death, something flashes behind her eyes. Her magic erupts within her, her eyes becoming a blazing inferno of raw energy. Her insides are boiling, and her skin bares that truth. In the dead of winter, on this cool night, she is sweating, her cheeks pink from the heat of magic. Not from fear but from power.
Unfortunately, someone else sees it too. The moment she raises her hand, wielding a burning fireball in her palm, a dagger aimed perfectly for her heart slices through the air. Unlike the witch who wielded an air dagger before her, this time it does not miss.
From clear across the yard, Jeremiah stands defiantly. His now weaponless arm outstretched, he bares the truth of what just happened. He threw his only defense against the witches across the yard to protect us.
The light goes out in the witch’s eyes, and I see the exact moment she dies. Her body falls to the ground, her chest an open, gushing wound. Emotionless, I withdraw the dagger, shivering as the prominent squish of warm flesh releases its hold on the blade.
Before I can consider my options, Will grabs the dagger and rushes toward Jeremiah. He holds it out before him, tripping over his feet as his mind moves too fast for his weakened legs. He tumbles to the ground, rolling against the wet grass. Towering over the clumsy witch, Jeremiah shakes his head at Will’s pathetic attempt to return the vampire’s dagger. He then helps him up, and together, they fight off another witch.
Someone calls to me, and I break my concentration. I scan the yard until I find Malik. He and Jasik are safely in the woods, and they call to me. I limp forward, leaving behind the massacre in favor of my two favorite vampires.
By the time I reach my ailing mate’s side, all hell has broken loose. Hikari, Jeremiah, and Will are still battling the witches, but I focus on my sire and my trainer.
“We need to go,” Malik says firmly.
“We cannot leave them!” I shout, turning away from my friends in order to rejoin the fight.
“Ava, stop! Think! You are in no shape to fight,” Malik warns. He grabs my arm, holding me back.
“We cannot leave them behind!” I repeat, shocked he would even consider abandoning his fellow hunters.
“They are smart, Ava. They are strong. They will find their way back to us,” Malik assures me.