Contrary to what my sire believes, I have accepted my fate, and I hate that it has come to this. Ignoring what I have learned would be a disservice to every vampire turned against his or her will. If there is a cure, I must find it—if not for myself, then for them, for anyone who needs it.
The longer I sit outside, poring over every page contained within the covers of this book, the worse I feel. I noticed it earlier today when I left the manor. The farther away I walked, the better I felt, like this place is cloaked in darkness and the weight of it hangs tightly to my chest. When I’m here, I feel crazy and paranoid, and even though I tell myself this all must be a figment of my imagination, I find my gaze darting around the property, stealing glances at the shadows, certain that something lurks within them. I no longer feel in control of my eyes. Like my heart, which beats rapidly on its own, my eyes scan my surroundings and my mind tells them to be wary.
The amulet hanging from my neck is weighty against my skin. The tiny hairs there prickle each time it sways when I move, alerting me to its presence. I don’t need the reminder that this crystal is dangerous or that it is my responsibility to keep it safe until I can find a way to properly exorcise the evil within.
I grasp it. For something that holds the power of an entire coven and the essence of a dark entity, it feels entirely too small. The scratchy edges are crude against my palm. Clasping my hand closed, I use my fingertips to turn it over in my hand. Each time it moves, something jolts through my arm and down my spine. It stings, vibrating outward into my flesh.
I hate this amulet. I hate that I am the one burdened by its power, but most of all, I hate that I can’t just get rid of it. I would love nothing more than to walk to the edge of the sea and toss it over the ledge, watching as it sinks into the murky, watery depths.
Even if I were certain no one would find it, I still wouldn’t toss it over. I need this crystal. Without it, there is no cure. Somehow, I think the darkness inside is aware of that. It laughs at my pain, self-assured that I will do everything in my power to keep it close to me even as it drains me of my sanity and strength.
I drop it, lowering my arm until I touch the ground. I reposition and cross my legs. I close my eyes, grounding myself by drawing energy and strength from the earth. I loosen the tightness in my muscles and breathe slowly, inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth. I let the air linger a bit, feeling it swirl round and round in my lungs.
The elements are all around me, and I take refuge in their presence. From the warm, salty air to the softening, cool ground, I summon them, but the moment they enter my body, threading through the weakest parts of me, the amulet at my chest begins to burn.
When it gets too hot, I take in a breath of air, hissing at the fiery contact. I release the elements and brush the amulet off my skin, rubbing the damage done. My flesh is raw but heals quickly.
Still dangling from a chain, the black onyx crystal simply sways from side to side, never relinquishing its hold.
“I’ll find a way to destroy you once and for all,” I say, an edge of deadly threat in my tone.
I stand, wiping dirt from my jeans, and I grab the book, holding it close to my chest. I glance over my shoulder at the woods in the distance. The sky is growing light, a promise of the upcoming sunrise, yet even as the earth begins to warm and the sky brightens, something dark is at play. I feel it in the air, and it makes my skin prickle with worry.
I face the house, and as I walk closer to the manor, something catches my eye. Curtains in Jasik’s bedroom flutter, and the shadow of an eavesdropper falls out of sight. I narrow my gaze, assuming the culprit is none other than our newest houseguest.
“Sofía,” I whisper, voice laced with my hatred of the girl.
And at the mention of her name, the crystal buzzes with excitement.
In the kitchen, I open the microwave, finding it empty. I expected this, but I am surprisingly disappointed. If it were still there, I couldn’t drink it. After sitting out for hours, the blood would be too spoiled to consume. I may not die from tainted blood, but I can certainly get an upset stomach… I think.
I sigh, shuffling over to the refrigerator and grabbing a fresh blood bag. I tear it open with my teeth, relishing in the savagery of my hunger, as I search the cabinets for a mug. Some blood drips down my chin, and I swipe it clean with my tongue. Cup in hand, I spill the liquid contents inside and place it in the microwave.
“Nothing quite like a bedtime snack with a side of radiation poisoning,” Sofía says.
I hear her enter the kitchen, the door leading to the butler’s pantry swooshing closed behind her. Trapped in this small space, my senses home in on her, even if I am desperate to ignore her intrusion.
I remain facing the cabinets, gaze glued to the time on the microwave, watching as it slowly ticks downward. Is it just me, or are the seconds passing by slower than usual?
“Everyone is asleep,” Sofía says. Her voice is soft, playful almost. From her reflection in the microwave, I can see she is grinning.
My hands are balled into fists, arms dangling at my sides, and I squeeze them tighter. I dig my nails into my skin, focusing on the biting pain as I nearly bleed. This is a trick I have used many times now. It helps me concentrate, giving my senses something else to worry about. I am a hunter, so the threat of being harmed should take full priority over anything else. But this time, it doesn’t work.
Sofía is quiet for a brief, peaceful moment. I close my eyes, steadying my breathing, but with each inhalation, I smell her. And she smells like magic, like what my mother used to smell like. Witches have a particular scent. They smell like sage and mugwort and just about any magical herb available to them. They smell like the elements, like water and fire and earth. The scent is ingrained so deeply, they can never wash it away. It is one with them, much like their elemental control.
I swallow hard, desperate to remain silent, because the moment I turn, the moment I speak up, I will lose what little control I have managed to hold on to. I know facing her will be the death of the trust the other hunters have bestowed upon me. They are starting to see Sofía as an ally, so I can’t make any rash, permanent decisions until they see the truth.
The microwave is almost done nuking my supper. Only ten seconds remain.
The witch is still eerily silent behind me, and as unsettling as that is, I am grateful for the peace. Every time she speaks, her voice lashes out at me. My skin is raw from her beatings.
I am beginning to shake, so I hold my breath. Every fiber of my body is shouting for me to turn around. My skin prickles and my hair stands on end. I release the breath I was holding, and it comes out shaky and loud. I think I hear her snicker, but I don’t respond. I don’t even look her way.
I open the microwave three seconds too soon and grab the mug. It is hot in my palm, and I wince at the stabbing pain. I gulp down the scalding liquid, throat burning at the abrupt, harsh contact. When I’m finished, I set down the mug on the counter so quick, so hard, it almost shatters. A deep line worms its way up the side, cracking the ceramic. I turn and toss it into the nearby trash can, not bothering to check if it’s fixable.
I wait before turning around, but even with blood in my system, I feel no better. My hunger is squashed, that empty pit sated, but I don’t feel revitalized. I know I feel this way because of Sofía. For some reason, it is easier being around witches than humans, but it isn’t at all easy being around her. I would rather be back at that shop, peering at Luna through the stacks like a sociopath, than…