Page 5 of Chosen, Eternally

I walk around Gallow’s Hill, the gravel crunching beneath my favorite Doc Martens combats, where victims of the Trials are buried in an unmarked mass grave at the base—one of Salem’s most famous, after-hours tourist spots, and consequently one of the vamps’ favorite hunting grounds.

Mind spinning, I think back to my time with James.

How much of it I wasted on my insecurities, on fear.

I would vow to never let it happen again, but I don’t plan on falling in love with anyone else.

Ever. I have enough self-awareness to know that I won’t get another love like that.

Won’t even open myself up to the possibility of it all.

But this whole heartbreak has taught me to never let fear stand in the way of what’s important. What needs to be done. What is right .

Maybe if I’d been brave enough to stand up to The Society, I would’ve rejected the role of Chosen Protector for Salem, and James and I would’ve been too busy in Asia, having fun and falling deeper in love, to put ourselves in such a dangerous position. We would’ve never encountered the vampires.

Or maybe, if I’d been less scared, I would’ve accepted the role sooner, gone through the ceremony earlier, and had a boost in powers that would’ve definitely let us get away scot free from these supernatural killers.

Either way, he’d still be alive today.

You live and you learn. But James didn’t.

And the vampires won’t. Because I’m not going to stop until they’re all dead and out of my city.

Even if Noah Cooke wins the election and decides to shut magic down.

Even if he restarts the modern-day version of the Salem Witch Trials.

I won’t leave. I will never abandon the people of Salem.

Just when I’m neck deep in vampire murder fantasies, I hear a branch creak behind me. Immediately, adrenaline shoots through my veins, the hairs on the back of my neck rising as my body—and magic—prepare themselves for a fight.

“Here we go,” I whisper to myself, getting into position, my long, black leather jacket swishing with the movement.

Looking around, I do my best to find the origin of the sound. Any normal human would think it was innocuous—a fox hunting a mouse, or a bird flying from one branch to another—but I can feel it in my gut: vampires are in the vicinity. More than one, if my powers are correct.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, concentrating. Three—no, four vamps?They’re close and getting closer. But I’m ready for them. Ready to take them on.

These days, taking on four vampires feels like a piece of cake. Though they physically outnumber me, their numbers aren’t quite enough to overwhelm me into a loss—not without some luck on their end, at least. Even if some have been carrying firearms lately.

Behind me, someone gasps. I turn in place, the end of my high ponytail whipping my cheek. Though I barely notice, because standing across from me is none other than the man who’s starred in every single one of my dreams since his supposed death.

“James,” I murmur.

His slumped figure is held up by two vampires, each hoisting him by an arm on either side. A third vampire stands beside them, his lips covered in a red liquid.

My nostrils flare at the scent of blood— James ’s blood.

It’s clear from the expressions on their faces that none of them thought they would encounter me tonight. Terror. Fear. They know exactly who I am, and they know they’re about to die.

“The Protector,” one of them speaks, her voice shaken, yet full of awe.

In this moment, I have no idea what’s going on. The image before me leaves me reeling for a moment—but only a short one, because, despite not knowing the details, one thing is for sure: James is alive, he’s here , and he’s in trouble.

Beat vampires to a pulp first, ask questions later, I tell myself.

And that’s exactly what I do. I whip my jacket off my shoulders, the cold air biting at my exposed skin, but not distracting enough to pull me away from the task at hand.

I pull my hands to my chest, invoking a Fire Shower spell, a ball of heat and bright orange light building between my palms. After a second, I release it in their direction, the ball splitting into smaller, yet deadly, licks of fire.

Each one hits the three vampires squarely in the chest, digging into their clothes until they reach their hearts.

In seconds, they scream out in pain and fall to the ground, orange flames enveloping them until they turn to dust.

The whole thing happens so quickly, they barely even notice their own deaths. Part of me almost wishes I’d made it slow, as revenge.

James, who was already semi-conscious, falls to the ground, narrowly avoiding getting burned by the flames beside him. With a swoop of my hand, I stifle the fire to protect him and run to his side.

“James! Is it really you?” I take his hands in mine and gasp. They’re cold and paler than usual, but it’s him. It’s James . He’s here and he’s not dead.

But he’s hurt.

His face has nearly been nearly beaten to a pulp, his upper lip broken, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.

I gasp when I see the two teeth marks just over his jugular, my heart sinking in my chest. He isn’t dead—somehow hasn’t been this entire time—but he could’ve been if I hadn’t been here to save him.

His body has been drained of blood, though not in its entirety.

With effort, he opens his blue eyes—beautiful as ever—and whispers, “Cate. Cate, I love you.”

James passes out in my arms, and I nearly die of heartbreak.

It takes some serious Invisibility and Levitation charms, but I manage to get James back to my apartment without anyone seeing us. There, I lay him down on the couch and pray to the gods for him to wake.

As I do, I get to work, cooking up a Healing potion for quick recovery.

It’s something my aunt taught me when I first found my powers—a recipe I’ve tweaked over the past year to help get me back to 100% after a big fight.

It doesn’t take long to brew in my pink Dutch oven (cauldrons are so seventeenth century), and thankfully revives James seconds after the concoction hits his lips.

“Cate, baby,” he whispers, his voice unusually scratchy. Being attacked by a vampire will do that to you, it seems.

“I never thought I’d hear you say my name again,” I confess. I have to swallow a hard lump in my throat before I’m able to speak another word. “Please, finish the potion. You’ll feel better. And it’ll heal your wound.”

“My wound?” His brows pull together in an adorable, and oh-so-familiar way.

“Your neck.” I point to the bite mark in question.

He brings his hand to the wound, gasping when it comes back with blood.

“I’ll get you something to clean that up,” I murmur, before getting to my feet to get a first aid kit.

“What happened?” he asks as I dress his wound. Thanks to the potion I gave him, it’ll be gone in less than 48 hours. Still, better safe than sorry.

“I should be asking you that.” I sniffle, realizing too late that I’m crying. I haven’t cried since his funeral.

His funeral .

If he’s alive, then who the hell were we all mourning in that coffin? Who did we bury in that grave?

I wipe my eyes with the heels of my hands and sit beside him, trembling.

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head, eyes downcast. “The last thing I remember before being taken is… Well, the conversation we had.” He looks up at me, and I want to die.

I want to die because he’s been alive this entire time and I didn’t know.

And I could’ve come and saved him. “Then, I remember a bunch of vampires got to us—which, like, who knew they existed, by the way? Well, I guess you did—and you got knocked out. Then they knocked me out, and the next thing I know I’m in some dark basement getting fed under a door.

It was like… like something out of a horror movie. ”

James’s eyes are glassy, brimming with tears, but I can’t breathe. Because I didn’t know . I thought he was dead. And all this time he’s been suffering, kept in a cage like an animal. The best person I’ve ever known had to endure that torture for over a year.

I can’t even imagine what they did to him.

“Then, out of nowhere, they pulled me from my cell. They didn’t say why, but they brought me here for some reason.”

“Gods, James,” I say with a sob, dropping my face in my hands. “I thought you were dead. You’ve been dead. And now you’re telling me you’ve been alive this entire time? That you’ve been trapped in hell for over a year?”

“Over a year?” He gasps. “Are you serious?”

I nod.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ. I didn’t—” he stutters. “It was so dark in there, I couldn’t keep track of time.”

“I’m s-so s-sorry.” Nothing I do or say will ever be enough.

It will never make up for the fact that I abandoned my best friend and the so-called love of my life to fend for himself for over a year with a bunch of vampires.

I mean, I’m the godsdamn Chosen Protector!

Shouldn’t something inside of me have told me he was still here?

“Stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was. It definitely was.”

He presses his lips together, his brows set in that way that tells me he’s not budging on this. Still, he says, “It wasn’t your fault, Cate. But you do owe me an explanation.”