Page 10 of Bitten Vampire (The Bitten Chronicles #2)

Chapter Ten

I ping awake. Not the slow drift into morning. No, one moment I’m dreaming, the next I’m wide-eyed. Sunlight spills across the duvet; dust motes and stray tufts of fur cartwheel in the air, stirred by my breathing.

My breathing.

I am breathing!

And my heart is beating, pulse at my temples, a throb at the base of my throat that quickens as panic rises. I’m awake in daylight, not daytime dead. Did I dream it all?

What the heck is going on?

I tumble out of bed and stare into the dressing-table mirror. White scar tissue puckers my neck, proof the bite was real.

A vampire tore my throat open. I died ?—

No, none of that, Doris. I rename my inner voice as recommended on my last podcast. Unless I want to be completely useless, rocking in the corner, I shove her dramatic monologue somewhere I can deal with later.

In my head, the version of myself I picture has always been twenty-something.

I never imagine myself getting older, so sometimes seeing the ageing woman looking back from the mirror is a little bit of a shock.

Now, however, the shock is greater still, because I look less like myself than I ever have.

My skin glows, and the face staring back is more refined.

This is me, restored to my biological prime.

Holiday glow—features sharpened yet somehow softened.

Cheekbones defined. Pores erased. I prod my teeth with my tongue.

I no longer look like myself, yet my teeth remain stubbornly human, and my body feels leaner, stronger.

I look like the best version of me.

I look like a vampire.

And I don’t know how to feel about that.

Ageing is part of life. It’s not always easy.

As a woman, you see the fine lines creeping in, the small shifts in your body that don’t reverse themselves.

Still, at forty, I told myself I looked reasonably young.

I think I did. Though I’m sure some teenager would glance my way and peg me as ancient.

But I didn’t feel ancient. I felt like… me. A version of me who had grown into herself.

Age had not worn me down yet. Maybe that’s confidence, or maybe it’s survival. After Jay, I’ve had to rebuild. If nothing else, I’m grateful to be free of that. No more living under the weight of someone else’s expectations.

But now I’ll never age .

Not naturally. Not gradually. Not at all.

And in this world, that’s not a blessing, it’s a loss. Ageing is a gift not everyone gets. It means you are alive. Still changing. Still alive.

And I suppose… a part of me is grieving that.

I’m trying not to care what people think. I’m learning how to stand my ground. To stop being the victim in other people’s stories and start being the lead in my own. And this—this… this frozen version of myself—is just another thing I need to learn how to carry.

I can do it. I just need to be brave. Again.

Yet the question remains—why am I breathing? Vampires are supposed to be corpses by day, so why am I buzzing with life? Is this what happens to them?

No. The proud creatures would trumpet a trick like this, not keep it secret. Whatever this is, it ties back to my turning. Or to something else having interfered, something like magic.

My knees go watery. Dizzy, I plop onto the bed.

“House?” my voice rasps. “Did your magic make me human?”

Floorboards creak, a breeze stirs, and then—static-thin, like a half-tuned radio—a soft, feminine voice.

I gape. “I can hear you!” I strain to catch every syllable. “You are quiet, but… did you say you gave me back my life? Does this mean I’m not a vampire any more?”

I… I have granted you a gift. While your kin sleep, you will be human until the sun sets, she says, clearer now . The day is yours.

Unbelievable. I’m still a vampire, yet half my life has been restored—half fairy-tale curse, half miracle. I flop back on the mattress and stare at the ceiling in shock.

School wasn’t kidding when they said wizard houses possessed uncharted power. To reverse vampire magic, even a little, is astonishing.

“Thank you for helping me.” It’s more than I ever dared hope for, even if, when the sun sets, my heart stops beating again.

Helplessly, I try to plan the rest of my strange life. “I can work in daylight,” I breathe, hope sparking. “Be home before dark, stay hidden. No one needs to know.” I pat my altered face. “If anyone asks, I’ll claim Magic Sector cosmetic work.” Not that I have friends or colleagues to notice.

No one cares.

House cares.

“This must have taken enormous power,” I whisper. “What did it cost you? I don’t want you hurt for my sake.”

I’m all right, she whispers back. You frightened me. I was worried. I did not want you to die, or see you in pain, and I didn’t want you to be hunted by the vampires or to be forced to run away. I like having you both here.

My eyes sting. “I thought of you as a friend even before this. Now I can hear you—truly hear you. What should I call you? ‘House’ feels rude.”

No. The woman I was is gone, lost to time. I’m just a house.

“You are not just a house. You are my friend, and you saved me. You have saved me so many times. Thank you.” I wipe my eyes. A large, fearful part of me wants to curl up, pretend this isn’t happening, and hide in my room for ever .

Yet a small, louder, steadier part refuses to let the bad guys win.

I need to be practical. “I’ll take a few days off, get used to this. A long walk with Baylor, then into the city for a new phone. Will the spell hold? I won’t, er, burst into flames, will I? I’m not criticising, I’m just freaked out.”

No need for fear. It will work, but be home before dark, unless you want the other vampires to discover what you are.

“I can manage that.” I can do this.

I dress and whistle for Baylor. He bounds in from the garden, paws caked in soil—he’s been digging again. Luckily, House always repairs the damage, filling in the holes before I even notice. One less mess to worry about.

I grab his lead and a cap with a peak, pulling it low to shade my face, just in case.

Then we step outside.

I feel safe inside the wards. It’s everything beyond the gate that curdles my stomach.

Baylor doesn’t care. We are late for our walk and he’s not shy about letting me know—awooing and yanking at the lead, eager to go.

My hand trembles as I reach for the latch.

Before I touch it, the gate swings open.

“Thank you.”

You are welcome.

My heart skips a beat; it will take a while to get used to her voice in my head. “Can all vampires hear you?”

No. So far, only you—and other sentient things.

Wow, that must make for a lonely existence. Unsure how to respond, I remain silent as Baylor lunges forward, drags me across the boundary, and just like that, I’m out .

Sun on my face. Pavement underfoot. A newly made vampire, with a human beating heart.

Last night my world ended. This morning I’m outside because House gave me back the day.

I don’t know what’s coming. I’ve never felt this instinctively afraid. The vampire inside shrieks to retreat. But the other thing in me—the knowing that used to be a whisper—has risen to a clear voice. It says I’m safe. That I’m on the right path and that I can trust House. It says forward.

So I choose forward. Baylor at my knee, I turn the latch on my old life and let the sunlight find me.