“Strong,” I say simply.
I chuckle. I enjoy the way my confession processes in her mind. It bleeds into her features, from realization to shock to terror, and each emotion amuses me.
“They have no idea, do they?” Sofía asks, her voice a harsh whisper. I don’t like the way it targets me, lashing out as if it intends to harm.
Still, her question catches me off guard, so I think about it for a moment, letting the silence linger. I scan her frame, soft but muscular, looking for any clues that may help me understand her intentions. She gives away nothing, and this frustrates me more than her candor.
“About what?” I ask finally. “What don’t they know?”
“They have no idea how evil you actually are,” she says plainly, no longer questioning her beliefs. She states her hypothesis with firmness. The positivity there only irritates me further.
But I smile, finding that even though she disappoints me every time she opens her mouth, I am quite enjoying my time with Sofía. Ever since she arrived, I have had so many questions, and her answers have left a lot to be desired. Perhaps now we will get somewhere.
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Sofía,” I say. “You speak as though you may turn them against me at a moment’s notice. But if you were them, what would you deem more important? That they may not be privy to my capabilities, or that they are utterly unaware of the magic you have been using against them since you arrived?”
She doesn’t respond, but her silence speaks volumes.
“You have been using magic to subtly influence the others, manipulating their emotions,” I say. She stiffens in an attempt to argue with me, but I hold out my hand, silencing her. “I don’t need you to confirm what I already know.”
“But I haven’t—”
“Sofía,” I say. I tsk her, waving my index finger back and forth. My tongue smacks against the roof of my mouth, and the sound surrounds us.
“You could never prove it,” she says, grinding her teeth.
“I don’t need to prove it,” I say plainly. “Who do you think they will believe? You or me? A stranger or their friend? Once the accusation has been made, the damage is done.”
“They said you’re not acting right, Ava,” Sofía says. She breaks eye contact to glance down at the amulet that hangs from my neck. “It’s that thing, isn’t it? It’s influencing you, turning you evil. Holland told me about the amulet, about what you…protect.” She uses air quotes to emphasize her point.
Angered that she would dare to even glance at my power source, I reach forward, forcing Sofía’s head upright so that her eyes meet mine again. I keep my hand wrapped around her throat, but I fight the urge to squeeze so hard I break bones. Still, her eyes betray her fear. She reaches for my hand, scratching at my skin, but I do not relent. Instead, I step closer until our noses nearly touch.
“Don’t test me, Sofía,” I hiss. “You will never best me.”
“Ava?”
Holland’s shaky voice spills from the hallway. I glance at him as he steps closer, reaching an arm for Sofía as if to offer her comfort.
“Let her go,” he says. He speaks softly, never raising his voice, never ordering me what to do. He offers merely a suggestion, and I decide to appease him, releasing Sofía from my grasp and taking a single step backward.
Sofía takes in a quick breath, hacking dramatically and falling against the doorframe. I roll my eyes even as Holland reaches for the witch. She leans against him, but he keeps his eyes on me.
“You know what I find interesting?” I ask. “The vampire who supposedly killed your coven is gone, yet you remain. Why? Why stay?”
“Seriously, Ava?” Holland asks. “What’s wrong with you?”
I ignore him, keeping my focus on the witch who appears to have overcome her recent duress rather quickly. Sofía stands tall beside Holland, as if my simple suggestion that she may be lying offends her. I can’t possibly be the only one in this house who believes she has ulterior motives.
“I assume you’ll be leaving tomorrow,” I say. “After all, you came to kill a vampire. Plenty are dead.”
“But maybe not the right ones,” she says, seething.
I narrow my eyes at her, my anger washing over me. The amulet buzzes to life, catching the attention of both witches before me. Holland’s gaze doesn’t stray from the black onyx crystal, but Sofía’s does. She averts her vision back to me, challenging the monster she has awakened.
“Careful, girl,” I say. “Mercy is only granted by the weak.”
There is something different about the trees. They sway from side to side, leaves fluttering loudly, branches straining to remain erect by an invisible force, yet there is no wind. Clouds loom overhead, stagnant and true, an ominous threat of what is to come. The warning gleam of a storm on the horizon coats the air, the smell of incoming rain strong and heavy. The air is thick with promise, making it hard to breathe, to blink.
I don’t recall it being this foggy. The memory of that fateful night is burned into my mind, but tonight, it is changing, transforming into something menacing and foreboding.
The mist intensifies tenfold. I struggle to breathe, sucking in quick breaths that linger against the back of my throat even after I am desperate to expel them. I choke, my lungs burning from contact with the air, wet and musty.
Despite the harsh changes, I recognize this place. Even as I slumber, safe within the confines of the manor, I am aware that I am dreaming, that I am not truly here—at least, not physically. My mind is alive, my imagination rapid-firing the details of that night that played out so many moons ago.
I watch them from a distance as the sun begins to set, casting shadows, distorting features, turning my once-heroes into villains. I watch myself—a young girl on the verge of a brutal attack. She has no idea her life is soon to change.
I am small and feeble, with a fire burning deep in my soul, a red-hot fury sparked by the desire to appease my elders. I never knew my devotion would be so hard to shake. That girl has no idea it will take countless betrayals and a tsunami of bloodshed to sever her link to the witches.
I don’t know why I am here, why my mind keeps forcing me to relive this particular moment. The night my father was murdered by rogue vampires is seared into my spirit energy, the pain never lessening even though I am no longer that fragile little girl. Still, guilt hovers overhead, overshadowing the darkening sky. It wraps around me, edging me closer to my past and away from the sanctuary of the forest.
I have relived this past memory countless times, and I know every second of every moment. I know exactly how it plays out. Even when I am not in this place, I can still hear my father’s screams, my mother’s wails. I still feel my uncertainty. I may not have witnessed my father’s death, but that little girl was aware of it, of what happened.
I ask myself again, Why am I here? I still have no answer. My mind may be alive, but my lips are mute. The spirits have no intention of guiding me through this vision, so I must see myself through it.
I think about this place, about everything that happened that night. I watch my family, their movements repetitive in my mind, but something is off. I notice the differences, all the little ways that girl no longer resembles the woman I have become. When she smiles, there is a glint in her eyes, a glisten I lost long ago. I can thank my mother for that, for the loss of life that once made me vibrant and happy.