Page 35

I lay in the dark for what could have been hours or days – there was no light to judge the time by, and my tortured, battered body had stopped caring, anyway. All I knew was the sweet release of unconsciousness that came with the worst of the pain, and the brief respites from émilie’s visits.

The cold in the shelter was unrelenting, and the chill in my bones never lessened in the suffocating blackness. Several times the slow, steady drip of my blood onto the ground would halt as it gathered and froze on the bench below me. All thoughts of fighting back had fled along with the skin and flesh now missing from my chest, stomach, and lower back. I was long beyond starving, beyond thirsty: my body was falling apart and I was helpless to do anything about it.

Each time I came round, I despaired that I hadn’t just… gone, in my sleep – feeling guilty the whole time that an idea like that would even enter into my head. But wallowing in my agony, my constant thought was that I wanted all this to be done wi th. If I was no longer here, Nicholas might live and there would be no ultimatums.

Oddly enough, the one thought that sustained me was the thought of his fury, which I knew would be something to behold. He would wipe all traces of émilie and Alistair from the earth and salt the bloodied ground in my name. No more careful restraint, Nicholas would unleash it all, become the monster they feared and had named him – not for revenge, but for me.

The thought of that kind of destruction should have been terrifying, but there was comfort in the black violence of it. In knowing that after four hundred years, I was the one he’d burn the world for… But my wish to see his fury also brought the reality of his grief. That much was unbearable to think about, as my own would be if our positions were reversed.

As my mind drifted in and out, a defeated calm swept over me. My muscles seized against the restraints, each spasm sending fresh waves of pain through my flayed skin, but somehow the agony helped clear my muddied thoughts.

For as far back as I could remember, before I’d met Jonathan and begun hunting – before I’d understood the demons I saw all around – I’d known something was missing within me.

I’d found some peace in the fire of the fight, that was true. Perpetually engaged in an unending battle, I’d grown used to the burning and the emptiness… but Nicholas was the pure, uncompromising moonlight that cooled those flames. With him, I could be just Erin – free of the burden of the death I witnessed. Quietly, he’d slipped into my life and filled the place in my heart that had been waiting .

Our differences were undeniable, but where I had one foot in the darkness, he’d stepped into the light. We shared that shadowy place in between – the place where the light couldn’t conquer. Where we could be ourselves. So, despite the reality of my situation, I couldn’t be selfish anymore. I couldn’t give up, because, for the first time, I wasn’t alone.

Thinking of Nicholas, something released within me – as though all this time I’d been holding my breath. I finally forgave him. For all of it.

I’d never forget who he’d been before: the suffering he’d caused and the lives he’d destroyed. But I understood his yearning for me had been his reason to fight for redemption. He’d always suffer – as those whose lives he’d taken had suffered first. But the balance would be maintained. It didn’t exactly bring me joy to imagine his pain, but I knew there was justice in it.

The memory of his gentle touch when we’d last been together, how carefully he’d held me despite his strength, was proof enough of his transformation. Even in our most intimate moments, he’d shown his control – as though I was precious. Breakable. His redemption wasn’t just in grand gestures but in the small moments.

I was key to that. My brief life was a grain of sand in the hourglass that was his. But he’d searched for me for so long and had been so patient… I couldn’t fail him now. Nicholas was the one person who could love me for what I was, darkness and all. And seeing the same darkness in him, I'd fallen .

The ghost of his hands still lingered on my skin. I thought back to the way he’d so reverently traced every inch of me, as though memorising something sacred. I could conjure his face with perfect clarity – the slight crookedness of his smile, the way his lilting accent deepened when we were alone. If this was going to be the end for me, I wanted his face to be the last thing I saw.

Despite everything, something fierce stirred in me. The thought of never feeling his cool touch, of never seeing the way his eyes lit up when he looked at me – it was unbearable. Worse than any physical pain émilie could inflict.

You can survive this.

My hunter strength, the heat of resistance, felt distant and weak – like trying to grasp smoke. But even as my body trembled from blood loss and exposure, I knew for his sake, I had to get out. I took a deep steadying breath and steeled myself, the ice in my bones beginning to melt in the wake of my fiery resolve.

???

A dam was thoroughly miserable. His shirt and coat were filthy, and his already stylishly torn jeans were now utterly destroyed down the left leg, where he’d caught them on a sharp piece of protruding metal in the grass. He lay flat on his stomach, resting on his elbows with his head low, even as the grass tickled his face. He hadn’t been in a situation like this for almost a century, and it didn’t agree with him in the slightest. There was a distinct lack of dignity in crawling through the mud like a common footpad – though he supposed that was rather the point of reconnaissance.

Heavy rain had begun only a few minutes earlier, but already he was soaked to the skin. Immortal he may be, but the cold was as keen for him as for an ordinary human, and he was soon shivering. There wasn’t much to see through the downpour, especially in the half-light of the pre-dawn, but Adam could tell Tom’s guess had been correct – the building across from him was most definitely inhabited. The sky held the peculiar grey of approaching dawn, perhaps an hour before sunrise. But even younger vampires should still be conscious, which made the stillness troubling.

The farmhouse had been built of rough-cut stone – solid, the sort that reminded him of a wartime field hospital. He pushed away those particular memories, focusing instead on the task at hand. It was a long, squat-looking building, but the two barns behind were larger and older – rough wooden structures with makeshift repairs of corrugated steel patching holes in the walls. The scale of the outbuildings troubled him – there was too much space for unpleasant surprises. The tiles on the roof of the nearest had fallen through, leaving a gaping hole for the wind to whistle through, and the wooden frame stood empty, waiting. As far as he could tell, the vampires were only using the farmhouse itself: the windows were smeared liberally on the outside with an oily-looking substance. He guessed they were also boarded up as an extra precaution.

Adam was beginning to regret his decision to come. He knew he couldn’t die, despite what he’d once told Erin – enough people had tried to kill him, after all – but he was still more than a little concerned for himself. He’d sworn after the last war never to put himself in harm’s way again – yet here he was, crawling through the mud toward danger.

True, Erin was inside and needed his help, and it was far easier for him to sneak in during the day when the villains were bound to be asleep… but try as he might, he couldn’t honestly remember ever being quite so tightly in the grip of his own fear. The things friendship demanded of one.

Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out his mobile phone and dialled hurriedly, his fingers slipping as the rain hit the screen. Tom was waiting in the car some way back, since it had transpired the farmhouse was, in fact, several miles from the main road. It did, however, mean Erin’s friend was a safe enough distance away that he wouldn’t be seen should the vampires emerge. He picked up after one ring.

“Are you there?” Tom demanded before Adam had a chance to speak.

“A civil greeting never goes amiss, you know.”

“What can you see?” He continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I am certain they’re using the house; you were correct. It’s protected as vampires tend to protect buildings – I suspect there may be some kind of trap at the front door. It’s ajar, but it must be held in some way: this blasted wind isn’t moving it.” He kept his voice low, regardless of the growing light and the noise of the rain.

“Can you see the shelter?” Tom asked.

“Not from my current position. I would prefer to wait a while longer and make sure there is no movement within before I move closer,” he breathed. Adam could imagine the expression on Tom’s face at his suggestion of wasting more time, but his tone was controlled as he answered.

“Okay. But don’t take too long – this could be our best chance to get in and out without violence.”

“I understand. I wish to help Erin, too, if you recall. That is the reason I’m here, Tom.” He kept the frustration and fear out of his voice as he ended the call – it wouldn’t do any good.

Sinking lower into the grass, Adam rolled over and stared up at the sky for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Icy raindrops hit him heavily in the face, catching in his long eyelashes and plastering his white blonde hair darkly to his head. He stomped down the surge of annoyance that came with this further indignity and tried to think.

If the house was empty, they were either somewhere else entirely, lying in wait, or with Erin in person. The barns beyond the farmhouse could be a bother – there were far too many dark corners where a vampire could lurk, too many places where he could find himself trapped. But the only way to find out for certain was to move. If the action caused him to be seen, then perhaps they could be lured from their hiding place. If they were with Erin… well, he did need to find her.

On hands and knees, he crawled toward the far-right of the building, mud soaking through his ruined jeans. Each gust of wind whipped icy rain sideways, obscuring his vision. He paused every few metres, pressing himself flat against the saturated earth. Skeletal tree branches creaked overhead, and he found himself absurdly grateful for the sound masking his movements. Though what good his stealth did against vampire senses, he wasn’t entirely sure.

The farmhouse remained still – no movement, no light, no sign of life, dead or otherwise. Even the windows seemed to watch him with malevolent emptiness. Standing, he still couldn’t see a damn thing, but at least it was easier to move while upright.

Adam crept closer to the building and, avoiding the windows, edged up against the stone. Once around the corner, the shelter finally came into view. It was bigger than he’d been expecting, and the exterior that was exposed had been painted the same green as the window frames, though it was peeling far less from the metal curves.

He might not have the advanced hearing of his friends, but Adam didn’t need it for the shrill cry from the shelter to reach him as the wind died down momentarily. The sound hit him like a physical blow. He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth clenched against memories of their easy friendship over coffee just days ago. Even through the obvious pain, he recognised Erin’s voice – and worse, he recognised the kind of torture that might produce such a sound. A century and a half of life had taught him that much, at least.

Trying to remain rational, he considered the facts. For Erin to make such a noise, at least one vampire was in there with her. Hopefully, both, because it made his own position less perilous. He could call Tom, but at the confirmation that Erin was inside, he knew the lad would come running and do something foolish before Adam could stop him. He didn’t know Tom particularly well, but he suspected Erin might be peeved with him if her rescue came at the expense of her fragile friend. Instead, he would have to get closer – perhaps if he could hear better, he could get an idea of how many people were inside.

With a glance back toward the lifeless building, he made a run for the shelter, his boots skidding in the wet grass.

In his haste, Adam never stopped to think about whether the vampires would want to spend the night sleeping in the shelter with their prisoner. As he righted himself from the mud, finding his balance on the treacherous ground, the metal door swung open. What at first appeared to be Nicholas and Isabel stepped out into the rain, looking straight at him with a stillness that made his heart stutter.

Without thinking – though really, he ought to have known better – he bolted. He managed less than three steps before a cold, bare arm snaked around his middle with alarming strength. He yelled, his arms still free, and attempted to elbow his captor in the ribs with as much force as he could muster. He succeeded only in bruising his elbow rather spectacularly.

“What a lovely surprise! We didn’t expect you so soon.” A breathy voice whispered in his ear. “I didn’t think you’d risk yourself for her.”

“Unhand me!” Adam panted as he struggled to get loose, knowing even as he said it how absurd the request was. The other vampire appeared before him, pinning his arms to his side. The scent of petrichor and wet earth was overwhelmed by something chemical and bitter.

“Tell me, what manner of creature êtes-vous ?” the vampire asked, his eyebrows furrowed. The downpour plastered his dark locks over his disfigured face and mouth, but he seemed not to notice. Adam noted the rolling French accent and extensive scarring in some distant, analytical part of his mind, understanding that this could only be Alistair. The rest of him was rather preoccupied.

“That’s none of your concern,” he spat the words, summoning what he hoped was a suitably withering glare. A century of perfecting scathing remarks, and he’d been reduced to a glare .

“You are no vampire, yet neither do you smell human. Très étrange… neither one thing nor the other.” Alistair seemed intrigued but distracted, glancing toward the horizon as he spoke. It was clear he was worryingly curious about Adam, who knew he couldn’t afford to have anyone digging into his past.

“ Il faut we return inside, émilie, or this will not work. Throw him in with la chasseuse for now; they can sit out this stormy day together. We will solve this new puzzle later.”

émilie must have responded behind him because she released her arm from his waist and grabbed firmly at his neck with one bony hand before he could try to move. Her grip was like iron, and he was unable to resist as she pushed his head down, dragging him towards the shelter. He stumbled through the door as it slammed behind him.

Adam winced at the screech of metal against metal as they slid chain after chain through the latch on the door, his eyes attempting to adjust to the total and complete darkness inside. There was silence but for the sound of the rain .

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, kicking half-heartedly at the door in frustration. “Damn.”