Page 7

Story: This Violent Light

I lick my lips, but my entire mouth has gone dry. I blink at this strange, mysterious man and wonder if I’ve had it wrong this entire time. Maybe there is a reason he approached me at the bar. Maybe he already knows who my father is, and maybe it’s because…

“Are you my brother?” I blurt.

To my surprise, Sebastian laughs. It’s deep and warm, a pleasant sound that doesn’t match his cold demeanor.

“No,” he says. His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t release a full smile. “And thank heavens for that.”

“What’re you going to do?” I ask. My stomach bottoms out, and I glance again at the Chinese restaurant.

No one is thankful they’re unrelated unless they plan to do terrible things to you. A few nights ago, I loved the idea of Sebastian doing exactly that. Now, I can only hope he never gets the chance.

“Your father’s name,” he repeats. He takes a small step away from me, the first time he’s done so since we arrived here. “Tell me, Grace.”

“I’ll tell you, but only if you promise to let me go once I do.” I lift my chin, crossing my arms tightly across my chest. My toes sting against the cold sidewalk, but I force myself to act unaffected.

“I promise,” Sebastian says.

“His name was Walter Pruce,” I say. My breath is ragged, unsteady. “I haven’t seen him in years though, so whatever you’re thinking?—”

It happens again. The blur of motion, the sensation of running without moving my feet.

As the world spins around me, I realize I’m being carried.

It’s longer this time. Long enough that I feel Sebastian’s hands on my side and shoulder.

Long enough that I kick my legs and flail my arms. My fist connects with flesh, but Sebastian doesn’t react.

We just keep moving, moving, moving. Until suddenly, we slam to a halt.

This time, I collapse onto the ground when Sebastian releases me. He stands several feet away, and I lean into the grass, digging my fingernails through the dirt. Beautiful, solid, unmoving dirt.

I try to look up at Sebastian, but my head’s struggling to accept I’m no longer moving. One turn of my head, and I’m dizzy all over again. My stomach clenches, and before I can stop it, I puke across the grass.

“Oh hells,” Sebastian says, putting more distance between us.

I wipe my mouth and grunt in response. I’m too disoriented to point out that this is his fault, not mine. He has no right to be grossed out.

Rather than saying anything, I lift my head slowly. We’ve somehow traveled miles in a matter of minutes. We’re on the opposite side of town now, in the park across from Aberlena University. We’re tucked against a thick patch of trees, but surely people can see us.

I’m still too dizzy to stand.

“Fuck,” Sebastian says. He scrunches his entire face, even pinching his eyes. He looks like he wants to say more, but I don’t give him the chance.

“What. Was. That?” I demand. “How did you do that? ”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.

I shift to sit on my butt, scooting as far as I can from my own puke. Sebastian blinks a few times, hard, as if forcing himself to be in the present. He looks unsettled, but despite running several miles just now, he doesn’t look tired.

He should be exhausted.

No, he should be dead.

No amount of tiredness would make this logical. You can’t run ten second miles. That’s not how the world works.

“You are Grace Pruce,” he says. His fists clench and release at his sides, but his attention bores into me. He sounds almost angry as he continues. “I need you to come with me.”

“First of all, my name is Grace Renolds. Second of all, if you needed help, you should have just asked. I probably would have said yes. You didn’t have to…do whatever that was. I’m a nice person. I like helping people.”

“You are Grace Pruce,” he repeats, and now, I’m positive he’s angry. There’s nothing to distract from the blazing fury in his eyes. “You are a filthy, sour-blooded witch, and I am not asking for your help. I am taking it, whether you permit it or not.”

My heart beats in my throat.

Oh god.

Oh god. This man is crazy. He thinks I’m a witch. He’s going to take me to his basement to sacrifice me in some sort of freaky ritual.

“You promised to let me go,” I say. “You promised if I told you my dad’s name, you’d let me go.”

Sebastian’s mouth twists into a brutal grin. He stalks forward, slow but intent. I shove to my feet, ignoring the way my head spins at the movement. I stumble back, making it only two steps before he lunges .

I scream. It’s high-pitched and piercing, cutting through the darkness like a new blade. I didn’t know I could scream like this, but I force every drop of air out of my lungs and into the universe.

Help me , I beg no one and everyone. Don’t let him hurt me.

Sebastian’s hand clamps over my mouth. His palm smashes my lips, and his nails dig into my cheek.

“I am not fae,” he whispers. His chest presses against my back, his lips tickling my ear with each word. “I am a vampire, Grace, and I am a fucking liar.”

With one hand still over my mouth, the other tightens across my chest, fingers clenching my shoulder. He’s got me pinned, trapped, and the second he starts moving, this will be over. He’ll take me somewhere out of sight, and nobody will ever know what happened to me.

How long before Tessa reports me missing? Before Libby wonders why I’m not answering her calls?

This man is crazy.

He thinks he’s a vampire.

He’s going to kill me.

My thoughts whirl faster and sharper, and in less than two seconds, a sharp panic shoots up my spine.

I need to get away. I have to get away.

Get away. Get away. Go!

I’ve never felt panic like this. Raw and sharp and all-consuming. It grows into a physical, biting pain, until it bursts out of me like an exploded grenade. It’s an instant relief, like taking a breath after you dive too deep in the water.

I don’t remember moving.

I don’t remember doing anything at all.

But suddenly, Sebastian’s hands fall away. His body hits the ground with a heavy thud, and by the time I turn, he’s writhing in the grass. Despite the poor lighting, I can see it. A dark stain blossoms in the center of his chest, growing larger and brighter, until finally I realize…

Blood .

Something tore open his chest, and I feel inexplicably certain it was me .

“Wait,” I say. I crouch to his side, hands fluttering over his chest, but not touching him. “Wait, no. Undo. Undo that! No, I did not mean that.”

I’m talking nonsense and babbling, tears streaming down my cheeks. There’s no way I just killed a man by wishing for it, right? I look over each shoulder. We’re still alone. He’s still dying.

There’s no other explanation. Somehow, this had to be me.

I touch his chest, reeling back when my skin meets damp warmth. Blood. There’s literal blood on my hands.

“I didn’t…”

I should put pressure on this. Or call an ambulance or…something. I’ve got to do something.

But doesn’t he deserve to die? something dark within me whispers. Wasn’t he going to hurt me?

I shove the thoughts away and dig my phone out of his pants pocket. A piece of paper comes with it. My fingers stain the edges with blood, and I shine my phone light over it.

It’s a folded copy of my drivers license. My name and South Carolina address, my weight from two years ago and a grainy picture from when I dyed my hair brown.

My hand shakes.

Sebastian stares blankly up at the night sky. Dead, I realize. He’s dead, and whether or not it was my fault, there’s no way to save him now .

I shove my phone and the scrap of paper into my purse. Sebastian’s opposite pocket is empty.

I get to my feet. I don’t let myself check my clothes for blood. I don’t let myself hesitate a moment longer.

Instead, I do what I should have the moment I saw Sebastian at Barco’s.

I run.