My parents are beside her. They are content as they celebrate life, enjoying what they assume is just one of many more days they have together. They are wrong. Tonight, their lives will be upended courtesy of a single careless mistake. The simple decision to picnic in the forest, venturing deep in the woods, creates a cataclysmic event with long-lasting ripple effects.
I take another step forward, and I am greeted by the tree line. One more step and I will be in the field, where wildflowers are overgrown just enough to hide the blanket and basket.
The wind is shifting now. The clouds roll in, covering the setting sun. The world darkens, and I have to squint to focus on them. I take another step, but they don’t see me. Burdened by the desire to escape, they never even notice how close I have come. But even if they looked up at this exact moment, meeting my gaze, would they see me? This is but a memory.
Quickly, my parents abandon this place, carrying the childlike version of myself toward safety yet finding only danger. I don’t have to follow to know what happens next.
Mother leaves. Father fights the vampires. I never see him again.
I don’t follow them. Instead, I stare at the space where they sat only moments ago, sensing the rush of residual heat in the spots where their bodies rested against the cool, hard earth. It dissipates quickly, unlike this dream.
The amulet at my clavicle electrifies, stinging my skin, urging me forward. So I follow, like I always do. I stomp through the mud, tearing through the overgrown brush along the forest floor.
I reach them easily, and just as I thought, they have no idea I am here. Mother is screaming, and Father is ushering her away. The little girl is crying in her mother’s arms. I meet her eyes, cloudy and muddled by tears, and she blinks them away, never breaking eye contact with me.
I take a deep breath and hold it, convincing myself she can actually see me because this part is new. This is something that has never happened, not in all the years I have visited this place, reliving this moment.
The girl points at the path our father just disappeared down, and I follow the trail with my gaze. I expel my breath as my lungs spasm, desperate for oxygen, and I nod at the forest, understanding her unspoken request. I never look back at the girl, but I feel her eyes on me, and I sense her satisfaction as I obey her order.
When I reach him, I grab on to the crystal, wrapping my fingers around the black onyx stone. I am harnessing its power, commanding the entity trapped within to save my father, and it does. Eagerly, it obeys me as easily as I obeyed the girl. The rogue vampires surrounding my father combust, exploding into ash, caking the ground in gray.
My father turns to face me. From his sharp jawline, dusted with salt-and-pepper hair, to his stark black tousled locks to his lengthy, defined frame, everything about him feels familiar, as though I saw him only yesterday. He even smells the same, like sage and mint, just like I remember.
His clothing is torn and charred from his fire magic, and blood stains his neck where the rogues were feeding only moments ago. I cringe as my gaze lingers there, where his wound slowly heals.
I tell him I saved him, and he smiles. I speak, and though my lips never move, my voice echoes around us, swirling and tightening, coiling like a snake. It grips us tighter, my words turning dark—no longer a promise, now a threat.
As my father approaches me, my dream shifts yet again. He morphs as he walks closer, his features blurring until the man before me is no longer the person I remember from my past. The face of a stranger stares back at me. Even though I have seen this person many times, always haunting my dreams, I still don’t know his true identity. He remains an outsider, an intruder in my mind.
“Ava, you must destroy the amulet,” he says, never straying from his script.
In every dream, he reminds me of this, over and over again, like he is merely a recorded presence, a voice on tape rather than flesh and bone. I have memorized every word he speaks.
I shake my head, squeezing the black onyx crystal tighter in my palm, using it against him. I want this man to leave, and I want my father to return.
“You don’t understand,” he warns, his gaze fluttering to the crystal in my hand. “That thing is like a homing beacon, and creatures all around the world can sense its power. The longer it is in existence, the greater danger you are in. You must get rid of it.”
I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. The fan overhead swooshes calmingly, a soft breeze settling over my bare skin. The bedsheets are tangled at my feet, wrapped tightly around my legs.
I sit upright and lean against the headboard. I am alone in my bedroom. I frown as I glance at the bedside clock, noting the sun set hours ago. It is rare for me to sleep in later than Jasik and even rarer not to be woken by the sounds of the manor coming alive.
I dangle my legs over the side of the bed, body stiff from too much sleep. I crane my neck from side to side and roll my shoulders, hoping to ease the tension. It doesn’t. Everything in my body feels tight and rigid—even my brain feels stiff, like it is crammed into my skull. My headache intensifies with each passing second.
I pull back the thick drapes that cover my bedroom window and stare into the distance. Darkhaven is cloaked in darkness, but the moon shines brightly overhead. Stars cast an eerie glow over the forest that surrounds the manor. There are no signs of the other vampires, but I assume they linger, slurping down breakfast or patrolling the woods.
Quickly I complete my morning routine, washing and dressing, and I am exiting my bedroom twenty minutes later. I close the door tightly behind me and turn to head downstairs, nearly colliding with Hikari. She narrows her eyes at me, her gaze scanning the length of my short frame. Her silence is unsettling.
“Ava,” she says by way of greeting. Her pixie locks are spiky and shiny, gleaming in the hallway’s low light. I can smell the subtle scent of blood on her breath, and it makes my stomach grumble.
“Hikari,” I reply, confused by her reaction to our encounter but too hungry to question it.
I slide past her and make my way toward the stairs. When I turn to descend, I glance back. She is still standing by my bedroom door, watching as I retreat.
When I reach the bottom landing, I spot Jeremiah and Holland. They are relaxing in the sitting room, a book in Holland’s hand and a mug of blood in Jeremiah’s. They both glance up as I turn to enter the dining room. No one speaks, but I wave anyway.
In the kitchen, Malik is enjoying breakfast. He stops drinking, holding his mug midair, and watches me carefully. Suddenly acutely aware of my surroundings, I roll my eyes, grumbling internally as I grab a mug and empty the contents of a blood bag into it. I stare at the microwave, waiting as the seconds tick on.
“How are you feeling today, Ava?” Malik asks.
“I’m fine,” I say pointedly.
I don’t hide my annoyance. Just about every day now, I am asked how I feel, and the constant prodding is frustrating, to say the least. I would feel a lot better if they just left me alone.
“I see,” he says slowly, emphasizing both words.
Anger is bubbling in my gut, threatening to spill over.
I spin on my heels, facing him. He remains seated but sets down his mug and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits for my response. Silently, he dares me to confront him, as though he expected this reaction.
“Just say it,” I groan. Malik may be emotionally unreadable, but when something needs to be said, there is no other vampire in this house who makes it as obvious as he does. Something is on his mind, and he is itching to reveal it.