Page 19

J anuary brought a killing frost that silenced the woods.

The cabin before us could have been the twin of our first hunt—the same sagging porch, the same broken windows, the same sense of isolation pressing in from all sides.

But I was not the same Alice who had followed Silas unquestioning into that first trap.

Three months and countless deaths had hardened something in me, crystallized a resolve beneath my obedient exterior.

My hands trembled not with anticipation but with determination as we approached through the snow-laden trees.

Tonight would be different. Tonight, I would not feed.

“She’s been here two weeks,” Silas said, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air. “Local farmers report livestock found drained of blood. Classic signs of blood magic.”

Or hunger like mine, I thought but didn’t say. The similarities weren’t lost on me—a solitary woman, accusations of blood rituals, isolated location. How many of our targets had been vampires rather than witches? How many had been neither, simply convenient sacrifices to keep me fed and compliant?

“The Order wants her questioned before disposal,” Silas continued. “She may have connections to a larger coven operating in Massachusetts.”

Snow crunched beneath his boots as he walked. My own steps were silent, barely leaving an impression on the pristine white blanket. Another reminder of what I’d become—a creature that moved through the world with little trace, as insubstantial as the shadows we stalked through.

“You’ve been quiet,” Silas observed, glancing sideways at me. “Having doubts, Nightwalker?”

“No,” I lied. “Just focused.”

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more. We’d played this game of half-truths for months now. He pretended to believe my obedience; I pretended not to see his manipulation. But tonight the game would end, one way or another.

The cabin appeared through the trees, a dark blot against the snow-covered clearing. Smoke rose from its chimney in a thin, tentative line. Someone was home, waiting for the death we brought.

“Same approach as usual,” Silas said, drawing his silver dagger. The blade caught the moonlight, flashing like a silent warning. “I’ll lead, you follow. If she attempts an incantation, you know what to do.”

I nodded, though my stomach twisted with dread and resolution. I’d fed two days ago—another “witch” in another forgotten corner of New England—so the hunger, while present, wasn’t overwhelming. I could resist. I had to resist.

We crossed the clearing, our mismatched footprints—his deep and definite, mine barely disturbing the snow—leading straight to the cabin door. No attempt at stealth this time. Silas wanted her to know we were coming. Wanted her afraid.

He kicked the door open with a splintering crash. We entered the cabin’s single room, a space barely large enough for a rough bed, a small table, and a hearth where a meager fire struggled against the cold.

The woman spun to face us, dropping the book she’d been reading. She was young—perhaps twenty—with dark hair pulled back in a severe bun and eyes wide with fear and recognition.

“The Order,” she whispered, backing against the far wall. “I knew you’d come, eventually.”

Silas advanced, dagger raised. “By the authority of the Order of the Morning Dawn, you are condemned for the practice of witchcraft and unholy communion with dark forces.”

The woman’s hand moved to a small pendant around her neck—a simple wooden cross. “I’ve committed no crime against God or man,” she said, her voice steadier than her trembling hands. “I’ve harmed no one.”

“The blood rituals,” Silas pressed. “The slaughtered animals.”

“I’ve taken no life,” she insisted. “The farmers’ animals die of the cold, not my hand. I merely... use what would otherwise go to waste.”

My entire body tensed. Not a witch. A vampire—like me.

Silas’s strategy shifted instantly. He lunged forward, not to kill but to provoke. His dagger slashed across her arm, drawing blood—vampire blood, rich and dark and different from human blood in subtle ways only another vampire would notice.

The scent hit me, but it wasn’t the overwhelming temptation of human blood. It called to me in a different way—recognition rather than hunger. I remained rooted in place, hands clenched into fists, body trembling with the effort of restraint.

The woman hissed in pain, her eyes flickering to me in confusion. She’d expected me to attack. Silas had expected me to attack.

“What are you doing?” Silas demanded, turning to me. “Help me subdue her!”

I shook my head, taking a step backward. “She’s not what you claimed. She’s not a witch.”

“She practices blood magic,” Silas insisted, his voice hardening. “The evidence is clear.”

“She’s a vampire,” I breathed. “Like me.”

The woman’s eyes widened further. “You’re with them?” she asked me, disbelief plain in her voice. “You hunt your own kind for them?”

Silas’s expression shifted from expectation to genuine anger. The mask of stern guidance fell away, revealing something harder and colder beneath. “It doesn’t matter what she is,” he snapped. “The Order’s mandate covers all unholy creatures. Now do your duty, Nightwalker.”

But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. The faces of all those I’d killed flashed before me—the healer with her herbs, the fire-worker with her tired eyes, the young woman in the forest, the grandmother trying to save her family.

Each one declared witch and executed without trial.

Each one feeding my hunger while feeding Silas’s hidden agenda.

“No,” I said, the word falling between us like a blade.

Silas stared at me as if I’d sprouted a second head. “What did you say?”

“I said no.” My voice grew stronger. “I won’t do this anymore.”

For a moment, his face registered pure shock.

Then his expression hardened into something terrible.

Without warning, he whirled and launched himself at the female vampire with inhuman speed.

She was quick, but Silas had decades of experience hunting our kind.

He dodged her desperate swipe and drove his shoulder into her midsection, slamming her against the wall hard enough to crack the logs.

Before she could recover, he had the silver dagger at her throat. Not killing her—silver wouldn’t kill a vampire, though it burned like fire—but causing excruciating pain. She screamed, the sound piercing through the cabin’s close confines.

“Stop!” I cried.

Silas gave me a look of pure contempt. “Too squeamish suddenly, Nightwalker? After all the witches whose throats you’ve torn out?”

He dragged the struggling vampire outside into the snow.

I followed, horrified, yet unable to look away.

With brutal efficiency, he forced her to her knees, then produced a coil of rope from inside his coat.

Not ordinary rope—I could smell the holy water it had been soaked in, see the prayers carved into its fibers.

“Blessed rope,” he explained unnecessarily as he bound her wrists behind her back. “Weakens unholy creatures. The Order has many such tools.”

The vampire sobbed as the rope burned her skin, leaving smoking welts wherever it touched. I’d never seen Silas use such implements before. He’d never needed to—he’d had me to do his killing for him.

“Please,” the woman begged, looking at me rather than Silas. “Sister, help me. We’re the same.”

Silas laughed, a harsh sound in the winter stillness. “You’re nothing alike. She serves the Order. You serve only your own hunger.” He tightened the blessed rope, drawing another scream from her throat. “Now, tell us about your brood, your maker. Names. Locations.”

“There is no brood,” she gasped. “I’m alone. I’ve always been alone.”

Silas backhanded her across the face, the silver ring he wore leaving a smoking gash on her cheek. “Lies. The Order knows of at least five blood practitioners operating between here and Boston.”

The woman spat blood at his feet. “I know nothing of others like me. I was turned and abandoned. I’ve survived alone, harming no humans, never feeding to the point of death.”

Silas straightened, his face cold with decision. “You still drink blood—forbidden in Leviticus! The pyre it is!”

I clenched my fists. His condemnation hit hard—he could have said the same to me. Some day, I suspected, he might. If I ceased to be useful.

He turned to me, his eyes hard as flint. “Gather wood, Nightwalker. Large branches from the edge of the forest. Stack them here.” He kicked at the snow, clearing a rough circle.

I didn’t move. “This is wrong.”

“This is duty,” he countered. “This is your path to redemption.”

“Redemption?” I laughed bitterly. “Is that what you call this? Torture and murder?”

His hand moved to the hilt of his silver dagger. “Careful, Alice. Your sympathy for this creature borders on treason.”

The use of my real name—not Nightwalker, but Alice—was meant to remind me of what I’d been, of the human girl who’d knelt in prayer in her father’s church. But it had the opposite effect. It reminded me that Alice Bladewell had been raised to show compassion, not cruelty.

“I won’t help you burn her,” I said.

Silas’s expression darkened. “Then watch me do it alone.”

He dragged the bound vampire to the center of the cleared circle, ignoring her renewed struggles and pleas.

Then he moved to the edge of the forest, breaking branches from the trees with methodical precision.

I stood frozen, caught between the instinct to flee and the terrible compulsion to witness what I’d enabled for months.

The vampire’s eyes found mine. “Please,” she whispered. “If you have any mercy, kill me quickly before he returns. Don’t let him burn me.”

I took a step toward her, then another. The dagger I carried—smaller than Silas’s, but just as deadly—seemed to burn against my hip. One quick stroke across the throat would end her suffering before Silas could intervene.

But before I could reach her, Silas returned, his arms laden with branches. He dropped them beside the captive, then gave me a measuring look.

“Having second thoughts about your rebellion?” he asked, misinterpreting my approach. “Good. Help me build the pyre, and perhaps we’ll disregard your prior disobedience.”

I turned away, walking back toward the cabin. “I’m leaving.”

His hand caught my arm, fingers digging in with bruising force.

“You’re going nowhere, Nightwalker. You will stand and watch.

You will learn what happens when our targets aren’t dispatched quickly and efficiently.

You could stake her if you’d like. We could burn her heart out painlessly.

But because you refuse, her heart will burn no less, and she’ll feel every lick of the flames. ”

He dragged me back to the clearing, positioning me where I’d have a clear view of what was to come. Then he returned to his grim work, stacking wood around the kneeling vampire in a careful circle.

When the pyre was complete, he doused the wood with oil from a flask he carried. The pungent smell filled the clearing, mixing with the vampire’s fear-scent and the crisp winter air.

“Last chance,” he told his captive. “Tell me about the others.”

“There are no others,” she insisted, her voice cracking with terror.

Silas struck a match against his boot and held the tiny flame before her eyes. “Fire purifies,” he said, his voice taking on the cadence of ritual. “Fire cleanses what God has judged unclean.”

“Don’t,” I whispered, but he wasn’t listening to me anymore.

He dropped the match onto the oil-soaked wood. Flames erupted with a whoosh, racing around the circle. The vampire screamed as fire climbed the pyre, reaching for her with hungry orange fingers. Her bound body thrashed against the blessed ropes. But there was no escape.

I tried to turn away, but Silas gripped my shoulder, forcing me to watch. “This is what happens when you fail to complete your mission efficiently,” he said, his voice carrying over the woman’s screams. “This is the consequence of your misplaced sympathy.”

The vampire’s clothes caught fire, then her hair. Her screams became inhuman, a sound of such pure agony that it seemed to pierce the very sky. I struggled against Silas’s grip, but he held me fast, his strength far exceeding mine.

“Remember,” he continued, his face illuminated by the hellish glow, “securing redemption from the evil you’ve become requires sacrifice. Next time, offer them a quicker death.”

Next time. As if there could be a next time after this. As if I could ever again participate in the Order’s brutal crusade.

The screaming stopped eventually. The vampire’s body blackened and crumbled within the flames, reduced to ash and bone. Only then did Silas release me, stepping back with grim satisfaction.

“The Order will need to be informed of your hesitation today,” he said. “But I believe you’ve learned your lesson. Haven’t you, Nightwalker?”

I said nothing, my face a hollow mask as I stared at the dying flames. Inside, something had broken—or perhaps healed. The comfortable lies I’d told myself about redemption and duty had burned away, leaving only the stark truth: I had become a monster serving monsters.