Chapter One
There is a part of me, however small, that is aware of my descent. My inner light is a righteous creature stalking the shadows of my soul, striving for grace only to be smothered by ugliness. And I allow this to happen. What other choice do I have?
That flicker in the darkness of my soul, in the obsidian-colored abyss washing over me even now, reminds me that I once believed I could be a savior. The burden of protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty was a weight I wanted to bear because I believed in our cause, in the greater good. Since then, I have become privy to one undeniable truth: evil lurks while the world slumbers, and never, in all my years, have I wanted something more than my overriding desire to become one with it.
With the battle over, the rogues either dead or running scared, I encourage these thoughts. I think about power and destruction, about claiming my rightful place as leader over this planet. I wish to be their maker, their idol, their god. My body tingles, prickling as tiny bumps glisten against my skin, like beads of water in the moonlight. I look up at her now, bathing in her glory, in her strength. In this moment, I deem myself stronger than even the moon.
“A-Ava?” Jasik repeats, voice beginning to shake.
My sire has said my name many times now, but I continue to ignore him. I don’t care to talk. I have no intention of rehashing details of the battle. They lost. We won, and that’s all that matters. Winning is all that matters. I care about far little more than my desire to dominate this land—and the creatures that call it home.
I glance past him, ignoring everyone around me until my gaze settles on just one. She has added greater space between us now. She halts when I stare at her, but something about her presence continues to grow distant, as though she is becoming farther from my grasp with every second that passes.
She doesn’t need to confess that putting distance between us is her pathetic attempt to squash her fear. I can sense her distress; I can smell it. I lick my lips, and her eyes widen. If she does this for much longer, they may just spill from their sockets, splattering to the ground in a messy heap, rolling from their captor until they are squashed beneath the sole of my boot. I can hear the squish, the sloppy hiss as the goo contained inside stains the ground red.
Of course, I am making assumptions. I’ve never popped eyeballs, so I have no idea what color the devastation would be. Perhaps a bright, fiery red or maybe a pale, sunken blue. I think about this for a long time, never averting my gaze.
“What are you?” Sofía asks. She spits her question at me, full of accusations. Her fear seeps from her as steadily as her budding anger.
I find myself wondering why she is upset. Is it because I foiled some secret plan? Or is she shocked to discover the existence of a hybrid?
I step forward, gliding easily even as my prey stumbles backward. The other vampires are silent, unyielding as they watch me ascend toward Darkhaven’s newest witchy resident.
When I reach Sofía, she sucks in a sharp breath. Her lungs spasm at the abrupt rush of air. I hear them clench, shrinking and widening, desperate to feed her body the necessary oxygen it requires to stay alive. If her lungs could think, if they could foresee my plans for her, would they give up now? Would they save her the despair of future agony by ceasing effort, taking her life this very second?
I stop in front of her, smiling, waiting. She has stopped breathing. Her lungs struggle to feed her organs, using only what is trapped inside them. I think I can hear their plea, their scream for a fresh supply of air, but she must not hear it. She does not release the breath she is holding. I imagine she is waiting for me to break first, but that will never happen. Not because I am overly cruel but because I am strangely curious to know if Sofía can hold her breath so long she passes out.
Her lungs clench tighter, making a soft, squeaky sound that echoes around us. The others must hear it because there is ruffling behind me. The hunters are stepping forward, and I know they have every intention of intervening. Still, I won’t break first. I will never break first.
Malik is at my side. I see him from the corner of my vision, but I never break eye contact with Sofía. Only when she falters, expelling the used, useless breath from her lungs, do I look away. She stumbles backward so quickly, she falls.
My leader catches her, and he gives me a piercing glare. Malik’s narrowed eyes pinch his features, making him appear far more dangerous than I know him to be. His hardened gaze threatens my very existence, but I know he will never follow through with the silent turmoil between us.
I turn on my heels and skip toward the manor, softly giggling while the night hums all around me.
I swipe the steam from the mirror and stare at my reflection. My hair hangs raggedly at my shoulders, a sopping wet mess after my shower. I run my fingers through my tresses, smoothing tangles as I go. I continue to hum a tune heard only in my head when the distinct sound of my bedroom door opening distracts me. Quickly, I dress and exit my bathroom, stopping short of crossing the threshold into my room.
Sofía is there, standing in the doorway, not fully committing to entering my personal space but not leaving either.
“Hello, Sofía,” I say.
She does not respond, so I walk closer, halting only when she is directly before me, close enough where I can reach out and grab on to her flesh and bone.
Her breath hitches, so I know she is afraid, but she maintains eye contact. Her eyes are the color of milk chocolate, smooth and dark, with specks of golden bronze scattered around her pupil. I imagine my own, neon crimson and swirling with magic. I wonder if this intimidates her. Now that she knows I am not simply a vampire, what does she see when she looks at me? A fallen witch? An enemy?
“Holland told me you’re different,” she begins.
“So you came to tell me what I already know?” I ask, both intrigued and annoyed by her persistence and courage.
“You’re a vampire who can access magic,” she says softly. Her voice is low, her words coated by her disbelief. When she speaks, she does not ask questions. She simply states her words—again, reminding me of something I already know to be true.
“Ah,” I say, understanding her true intentions. “You want to see? You want a show? You want me to use magic to validate what you think you saw earlier tonight.”
Sofía swallows hard, and I quiver at the sound. Her esophagus constricts, spilling her spit into the empty pit at her core. I feel my own stomach churn from hunger. My gaze flickers to Sofía’s neck, and she sucks in a loud breath. She wavers, becoming unsteady on her feet.
“You’re not like the others,” she whispers.
Her words ground me, rooting me in place. Meeting her eyes, I blink away my desire to feed.
“What others?” I ask. “The vampires of this nest?”
“Um…yeah,” she says. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides, and her arms are shaking from strain. Even this fascinates me. Everything she does, from the way her fear affects her body to the way she sounds when she moves, it all excites me, interests me—almost as if she is the first mortal I have ever seen in performance.
“Correct,” I confirm. “You’re right. I am not like them.”
“So what are you?” she asks, repeating her question from earlier. She sounds different this time. Earlier, her disbelief was evident in her tone. Now, curiosity overpowers her fear, and her eagerness is reflected in her voice.