Page 3

JACOB

ith my eyes closed, I enjoy the sound of her voice. My head is splitting in two, but when she talks, it seems to make it better. It’s as if the sounds coming outof her mouth are medicine.

“Oh. There is a bear,” she says. I want to smile at her strangeness, but this damned headache won’t stop. “That one looks like a bunny.” There is excitement in her voice, and the tension in my skull lessens. “And there is a dragon,” she adds.

Where did this woman come from? Simple, yet so unique. She smiles a lot, but I sense thepain hidden behind her eyes – as if she is forcing herself to forget something. A wave of dull pain passes through my brain again. I grunt and grind my teeth from the discomfort.

These headaches happen rarely, but when they do, they hurt like hell. Even though with time, they have been getting a little more frequent. In moments like these, I wish the progress with my mother would go a little faster. It’s not guaranteed that she will have the answers I need, but she’s my best option. Even Tangu, my companion demon who resides in my ring, doesn’t know everything, and he knows a lot.

Izzy stops talking, and the throbbing inside of my skull increases to the point where I have to remind myself to breathe.

“Did the clouds disappear?” I ask as playfully as I can manage.

The way she talked about them was ridiculous but amusing. It makes my heart feel warm when she seems genuinely happy, even when it is about such childish things.

“No. I don’t want to bother you with silly games,” she mumbles, her voice suddenly small.

It takes all the muscles around my eyes to peel them open just so I can see her. She is hugging her knees with one arm, and with the other, she is mindlessly plucking at the grass.

“It’s not you. I have a massive headache,” I groan and close my eyes.

Even the dull light of the evening is too much.

“Oh,” she says, and I hear movement. “Here.” Her hands press against my hair, and she moves my head up. Before I have a chance to understand what is happening, my head is on her lap, and her fingers are digging into my temples. “This should help.”

The pressure of her fingertips against the tight muscles is bliss. With an exhale, the pain vanishes, and I can finally breathe with ease. I open my eyes and forget where I am and where I am going. She is looking down at me, her blonde strands falling over her face, and a proud smile on her face. She looks like an angel. Beautiful and delicate. Perfect.

“Did that help?” she asks, her smile growing. “Vera, my nanny, used to get migraines all the time. She taught me to massage the scalp so I could do it for her,” she explains, sharing a little bit about herself, and I hold on to it like a treasure.

I just met her. She is a stranger, but I don’t want to part ways.

“Where are you running to?” I ask and watch her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Prie is the goal,” she answers, and I notice her swallow an uncomfortable lump. “How about you? Where are you going?” she asks and finds my eyes again.

“I’m looking for someone, actually.” I close my eyes, relaxing into the soothing motion of her fingers against my scalp.

“For who?” Her voice is calm.

I am not sure I should be sharing my personal life with her.

“A few witches,” I respond, and wait for her reaction.

She is not human. I know that much. The essence in her being has a dark pull to it, but there is something else to it as well – something sweeter.

Her warm hands go around my face, and she moves my face up a little. The action is slow and gentle, but my heart hammers. I peel my eyes open and look at her, savoring the way she holds me.

“Theresa and Rosa?” she asks, her gaze intense.

“Yes.” My eyes widen at her question.

Squinting down at me, she bites the inside of her lower lip.

“If I help you find them, will you help me get on the ship that goes to the Islands?” She finally speaks.

She knows the witches. This makes it a good time to learn who she really is. I inhale and focus on her heart, soul, and the core of who she is. The aura coming from her is magical, light, and beautiful, but there is something else. There’s a hint of red floating around her soul.

Vampire . Well, shit . I personally don’t have any problems with them, but they are known to be greedy and violent. Most beings avoid them or kill them. The woman before me is not greedy and violent, but I don’t know if I should trust a vampire.

“You’re a vampire,” I state as a matter of fact.

She pulls her fingers from my scalp and moves away, dropping my head to the grass. Quickly, I get up to my knees and notice her hands shaking as she scrambles away, panic and fear written all over her face. When she moves to get up, her already light skin pales further.

Shit. Maybe I should’ve taken a lighter approach to this subject. She is running. A gnawing sensation tugs at my heart.

“Slow down. Stop.” I take her shoulders, but she jerks and tucks her head in. “It’s okay. That’s not how I meant it.”

I cup her face as gently as I can and lift it to look her in the eyes. Her eyes water, and something in me snaps. Fear. I am terrified that she will start crying. She blinks a few times but doesn’t move away, and I don’t dare break the stillness of the moment.

“Who are you?” Her voice is shaky while she holds back her tears.

For the love of everything that is mighty, don’t cry .

“Halfling,” I answer and wait for her to panic again – and if she knows who halflings are, she will.

Her eyes widen, and she tries to scurry away with her head shaking. She knows and she is terrified. I don’t know what to do, but I can’t let her go. Not like this.

“I will take your offer. Help me,” I breathe out and move my hand behind her neck, making sure my actions are slow and careful.

She pauses and stares at me, her chest rising heavily.

Alright. I exhale. Maybe this is not our last day together.

“How will I know that you won’t hurt me because I am a vampire?” Her eyes still shimmer, but at least she isn’t running.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I smile lightly, move my hand away from her neck, and offer her my pinky. “We can pinky promise.”

She blinks and her eyebrows furrow. Moving her eyes from my hand to my face, her gaze softens, and she intertwines her little finger with mine. This is ridiculous, but it works.

“You are strange,” she whispers.

“So are you.” I chuckle.

Relief washes over me. She really shouldn’t trust people so easily, but at the moment, I am glad she does.

The walk to the hotel is quiet, but I don’t mind. There seems to be a lot on Izzy’s mind as I try to figure her out. A vampire on the run from vampires? That is strange, but she is not any vampire though; she comes from money. Her skin is too soft and clean, her nails are manicured, and her hair is shiny and healthy, even if tied messily into a bun. This could only mean that the person looking for her also has money; the men chasing her looked like they cost a hefty price.

Who are you running from? I steal a quick glance at her from the corner of my eye.

I take a turn to a large set of wooden doors with intricately carved frames. It is not the most luxurious hotel in town, but not the worst either. It will do the job of providing a roof over our heads for the night. Plus, I would love a quiet place where I could talk to her.

I also need a place where I know she is safe, so I can comfortably investigate the area. Just because Izzy knows where the witches are, it doesn’t mean there aren’t other things I can learn. I understand my mother could be a manipulative and awful being, but the more I know, the better.

“No. I cannot afford that.” She stops on the sidewalk and refuses to follow me into the red-brick building.

Sighing, I look back at her. When will she understand that I don’t expect her to pay for anything? She is on a run. Of course, she doesn’t have any money.

“How about this? You earn your keep with the head massage and don’t bring up the fact that you don’t have money again,” I tell her.

Her eyes shoot up at me, and I think I see a proud sparkle in them.

“Fine. I will accept that offer.” She nods firmly.

It’s a selfish deal, but it worked to help her feel at ease.

There is a large bed in the middle of the room and a few chairs by the windows, which are covered with a light sheer curtain. Izzy walks in and immediately drops her body on the bed – face down.

“It’s a real bed,” she groans dramatically, her arms spread out.

Laughing quietly, I set my bag on one of the chairs by the window and watch her. We are alone in a place where no one is chasing us. Right now is a good time to ask her questions and figure out who I am dealing with. Instead, I take a few more seconds to observe her. Vampires are mainly known to be evil and greedy. She is sweet, kind, and strange. Slightly weird as well, but that is the part that draws me to her the most.

With a deep breath, I make my way to the bed and squat next to it, resting my forearms on the mattress. She notices my movement and looks at me. A strand of her long hair falls over her face, and the urge to tuck it behind her ear tugs at me. Before I follow through with the desire, she does it.

“Who are you running from?” I watch her reaction carefully.

She looks down and suddenly, the small threads of the dark covers become very interesting.

“No one.” She looks up again and offers me a playful shrug. “How about you?” she asks, and I can see by the way her eyes dim that she’s shoving something painful as far as possible.

She deflected quickly. If I push any further, I worry she will shut down. Disappointed that I am not getting far with her, I exhale and let go of the subject.

“I’m not running, I am looking for someone,” I respond. Maybe if I share a little about myself, she will be more willing to talk. “I’m looking for my mother. She left when I was very little. I want to find her and find out why,” I say, and her gaze softens.

“Oh…” she mumbles. “I’m sorry. That must be hard.” There is so much sympathy in her eyes.

“It’s okay. My father was a wonderful man. He gave me enough love to replace the emptiness of her absence.” I offer her a small smile.

My father was a good man. He raised me well. I cannot imagine being eighteen and left alone with a newborn. He did his best to provide for me, and most of all, he loved me.

“Was?” she asks, her voice small.

“He died when I was sixteen,” I tell her, and her forehead furrows with sadness. “It’s okay. I had good friends and time to heal. I’m okay with everything that happened.”

If I’m honest, I had a good life. Yes, my mother left me when I was just a baby, my father tried covering it up, I have power in me that I only know about because someone gave me a ring on my twelfth birthday that has Tengu in there – an old demon that can materialize and talk – and the headaches are becoming more persistent. Hopefully, I can sort out the headaches before they kill me, but other than that, nothing to complain about.

“Um… the witches have a mansion in the forest. That is where they stay unless they are called for,” she says, and one side of her lips curves up.

That is where I planned on going, but I am not exactly sure where in the forest. It is massive, and going in blindly could take months. Based on the letters I found under my father's house, that is where they last were. That was twenty-six years ago, though.

“How do you know the witches?” I make another attempt to get to know her.

“My father does,” she responds and bites the inside of her lower lip.

“Who’s your father?” I ask, my tone light.

She inhales and swallows hard. Doing my best to pretend like I don’t notice her reaction, I keep watching her. Her fingers tremble a little as she gets up to sit by the headboard of the bed. Her father is a sore subject, it seems.

“Sometimes, I have nightmares, so just wake me up. I’ll snap out of it.” She changes the conversation. “There is only one bed. How would you like to sleep?” she asks, her voice perking up.

She periodically changes thesubject – as if to distract herself from thinking about something in particular. The feeling that something awful happened to her keeps nagging at me. I hate it. I want to know what is bothering her.

“Whatever you are comfortable with.” I inhale, slightly frustrated that she is not talking to me.

We just met. We are strangers , I remind myself.

“The bed is big, I’m comfortable sharing.” Her voice is chipper, and her body seems relaxed, but her eyes say something else.

She is not comfortable. Why lie then? Smiling lightly, I take a moment to think how to respond to that. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, but I also want to respect her words.

“All right then. Sharing the bed it is then,” I mumble and make my way to the other side.

Sleeping next to her would not be a problem for me, but I worry about her. She lied – she is uncomfortable sharing the space. For some reason, her lack of trust hurts.

Strangers. She has no reason to trust me.

The sound coming from next to me is sopiercing and loud that I jerk awake, and my heart goes into my throat. Izzy is screaming to the point where her neck strains and her face turns red. I freeze and my throat constricts at the sight of her. Jumping off the bed, I run my hands through my hair, clueless aboutwhat to do. Holding her is my first instinct, but her movements are so jerky that I will have to restrain her.

Just wake me up. I’ll snap out of it. Her words echo in my head. How the fuck I am supposed to wake her up from this?

“Stop!” She thrashes, and I wince.

I need to hold her to let her know that she is safe.

“Do not touch her! Create a sound barrier. You don’t want anyone thinking strange things.” Tengu’s, my demon companion’s, voice echoes in my head through our link.

I hate it when he does this – speaks to me before announcing his presence. Tengu was given to me in a ring on my twelfth birthday. I don’t know who gave me the present, but it was on my bed when I got home one day. Ever since that day, we have been inseparable.

He is right. She is loud, and the walls here are thin. I create a bubble around us with a shielding invisible force, hiding her terror from the world. It feels dirty – silencing her pain to the world, and with all this power not being able to help her.

“Why can’t I hold her?” I growl at him through our mind link.

“She is not ready yet. You will hurt her more,” he answers with empathy in his voice.

“You see her dream?” I swallow.

“Yes.” His response is sad.

“So, I’m just supposed to watch her?” My chest hurts when she screams again, and tears pour down her face.

“Yes.”

There is a mixture of pain and anger in his voice that I can feel through our bond. Then, he is gone from my mind again.

Tengu may be a devious demon goblin, but he is old and has never failed to look out for me. Never has he taken care of someone else, so why is he helping her? Why is he looking at her nightmares when he normally doesn’t care about the suffering of others?

The pain I feel from watching her makes me feel like I am choking.