Page 4 of Watch Me Burn (Sanctuary #1)

CHAPTER 3

VAMPIRE

“ E lise? Is that you?”

It takes a second to blink away the dark spots flashing in front of my vision. Keeping my eyes narrowed to slits, I lift my head, searching for her. I’d know her voice anywhere, even if I have no idea how she got mixed up in this mess, and I try to ignore the ache in my shoulders and my wrists as I try to push myself into a seated position.

“I’m right here. Let me help you.”

Elise is at my side before I can get my full vision back. Crouching down in her stiletto heels, she hooks her hand under my armpit. For a petite thing, she hefts me easily so that I’m standing on my feet again right next to her.

Shifting her hold to my bicep, she guides me back to the narrow cot. “Take a seat, Bridge. It’s probably better if you’re sitting now that you’re finally awake.”

Once she lets go of me, I shift my shoulder. “My hands are cuffed behind my back,” I tell her, as if she doesn’t already know.

Obviously, she does.

“I’m sorry. I argued against it when they let me down here, but they assured me that the silver wouldn’t hurt you. At the same time, they didn’t want to risk you having use of your hands just yet.”

Right. Because I can create fire in my palms.

How does Elise know? Why isn’t she freaking out? What’s going on? What is she doing here?

What am I doing here?

“Where am I?” I ask. It’s the first question that blurts out, but now that I can finally see clearly again, I realize how pointless it is.

The room is about ten by ten, and much smaller than the bedroom in the apartment I rent with Elise. The only thing inside of it is the narrow cot with the cream-colored sheets and squashed pillow. The floor is cement. The walls are cinderblock.

And the door? Gleaming silver bars.

Where am I?

I’m in jail.

I’m in jail because I killed a guy.

Realization slams into me. No matter how I did it, I set that man on fire. I collapsed while he was burning. He must’ve died, and now I’m in jail because I incinerated him.

“Holy shit.” My chest seizes as the unholy screams he let out while he burned fill my head again. “Holy shit ! That guy… he died . I killed him.”

Elise sinks down on the cot next to me. Her hand lands on my thigh. “He’s not dead, Bridge.”

“He was on fire ?—”

I want her to tell me that I’m wrong.

“Yes. And after Thorn and Jasper finish interrogating him, he’ll probably beg for death before they grant it. But, for now, he’s been sedated, tucked away in a secluded ward in the human hospital so he doesn’t die before the Cadre want him to.”

Human. Over the screaming in my head, I hear the way Elise says ‘human’ like that.

Like she’s not.

Like I might not be, either.

What kind of human shoots fire out of their hands like that?

My tongue darts out. I swipe it along my bottom lip, trying not to heave. My breath is shaky and raw. “He was on fire.”

“You were just defending yourself,” soothes Elise.

No denying that.

“I did it.” It’s a whisper, as though I’m sure someone is listening in but I just want Elise to hear my confession. “I don’t know how. It just… it just happened . I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay.”

It’s not. “And you’re sure I didn’t kill him?”

Elise doesn’t answer me right away. For a second, I’m sure that I did and that she only told me I didn’t to spare me before, but then she purses her lips. “Thorn said I could stay with you until you woke up. I’m supposed to let him know when you do so he can get your side of what happened on Coronet Ave.”

“Thorn.” Oh, no. “You mean Thorn Wilkins? The head honcho of Clarity?”

She nods. “And my boss.”

That’s right. Technically, Elise works for the Cadre. I don’t know exactly what it is that she does, and when I would ask, she’d just tell me it was a boring pencil-pusher gig, but her office is on one of the lower floors of Homequarters.

“That’s why I’m here,” she continues. “Simon and Gilda were the ones who found you. They work for the Cadre, too. That… that man … was screaming, rolling on the sidewalk, trying to put out the fire when Simon caught him. Gilda was there, too. She found you in a heap on the ground, wearing one shackle on your wrist.”

Hang on…

“Gilda?” I furrow my brow, trying to remember. “Blonde curls, super blue eyes, dent in her chin? That Gilda? Your co-worker?”

“She got promoted to soldier status, but yes. She recognized you as mine.” Elise clears her throat. “My roommate, that is. My friend. After reporting to Thorn, he gave permission for her to contact me. I came right over to HQ. I’ve been sitting with you ever since.”

Soldier status? The way the Cadre rules over Clarity, it seems like Thorn is the general of his own contained army. Maybe I wasn’t too far off when I thought that.

So that explains why Elise is here. She has an in with the Cadre, and even if she’s my bestie and not a lawyer, I much prefer having her here for moral support right now.

“I didn’t kill him, but I’m still in jail.”

“That’s because Thorn ordered you detained until his soldiers could piece together what happened and decide what happens next.” Her voice gentles. “You conjured in a Fang City, Bridget. I had no idea you were a witch, but this isn’t a coven. Thorn won’t allow it on his territory.” She pauses. “There are cameras down here, too, Bridge. Just so you know. Thorn’s gotta know you’re awake now.”

That’s the least of my worries at the moment. Elise was just talking in code. Who the fuck knows? Maybe she’s a soldier, too, because none of what she’s saying is making sense. Territory? Coven? Fang City?

Witch ?

She’s serious, though. As serious as a freaking heart attack, and if anything, she just looks disappointed that I kept my being a witch a secret from her.

No. It’s impossible.

“Witch? I’m not a witch. Witches aren’t real.”

“But your magic?—”

“Magic isn’t real, either,” I say, cutting her off. “I don’t know what happened with that fireball. That guy scared the shit out of me, and it already smelled like something was burning before he was. It had to have been a freak accident. It wasn’t me. It couldn’t be me.”

It had to be me.

She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, peering at me closely. “You didn’t know.”

“Know what? That I’m a witch? I’m not. I told you, Elise. They’re not real .”

“They are. You are.”

“Elise—”

“Supes are real, Bridge.” Giving my thigh a squeeze, Elise lets go of me before getting back to her feet. She moves until she’s standing directly in front of me, her pale green eyes as hypnotizing as ever. “Witches. Shifters.” Her eyes flash. “Vampires.”

I snort. “Did I bang my head when I collapsed? There’s no way you expect me to believe that vampires are real.”

They say seeing is believing. That always made sense to me. If you can’t trust your eyes, what can you trust? But I saw my body covered in smoke before fire exploded out of me, and I can’t believe that.

And when Elise parts her lips, opening her mouth just big enough that I can see her top teeth in particular… I can hardly believe it when her canines begin to grow and grow until they’re at least an inch long.

She uses her thumb to prick the sharp point of one of the fangs. A bead of blood as deep a red as her hair color wells up on the tip. She laps it with her tongue all while I gape wide-eyed up at her.

“Vampire,” I strangle out when I find my voice. “You’re really a vampire.”

“I am. And I would’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t know you were one of us.”

I’m not .

“I’ve seen you out in the sun.” I narrow my gaze on Elise. “Aren’t vampires supposed to incinerate during the daytime?”

“SPF-5000,” is her prim response. “I told you that I never go anywhere without sunscreen on.”

She did. When I asked her how she got such a youthful glow to her skin, Elise gave all the credit to her daily routine, plus a fondness for anti-sun protection. Being one of the immortal undead probably helps?—

“So I guess you’re not thirty-four like you said. How old are you really? And don’t give me that BS about it being rude to ask a lady her age,” I cut in when her nose wrinkles in distaste. “I want to know. You dropped the bomb on me that you’re a vampire. Least you can do is help me make sense of all this.”

“Seventy-two,” she admits. “I’m not even a century yet. To my kind, I’m barely a mature female. But my parents want me to find my beloved otherwise they’ll arrange one for me.” She waves her hand. “That’s not important. What’s important is that you’re a witch?—”

“I’m not .”

Maybe if I say it enough times, one of us will believe me.

Elise raises her eyebrows at me, then lays her unnaturally cool hand on mine—and how have I never noticed how chilly she was before? “Bridge, sweetie. I’m gonna hold your hand when I say this, but you shot fire out of one of them and nearly incinerated a man where he stood.”

I know.

I know .

It’s impossible. Unbelievable. But I did it… and she’s holding my hand anyway.

Trying to sound like I’m not about to lose my shit completely, I teasingly say, “Aren’t you afraid I might burn you?”

“Of course not. I know you. If that’s really the first time that happened, there’s a reason it took this long for your powers to manifest.”

“Yeah. That dickhead was following me,” I admit, remembering my frightened reaction when he picked up the pace and crossed the street. “He got a handcuff of me.”

Elise squeezes the top of my hand. “I know. He was trying to get your hands behind you back so that?—”

I snort, cutting her off. “I couldn’t do what I did?”

“Something like that. And I know this all so incredible. That it’s going to take time to really come to terms with this new reality. But it did happen, Bridget. Simon was on patrol nearby. He caught the… that man stalking you. He tried to stop you, but he was too fast. And then…”

Her voice trails off, as though realizing that the further explanations have only made me keep quiet—and isn’t that a feat in and of itself.

She removes her hand. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

This is Elise. Apart from learning she’s older than I thought, and her diet is definitely not what I was expecting, she’s the same.

I can be the same Bridget, too.

Am I a witch ? It would be so easy to use that as an explanation, but twenty-nine years as a regular old human myself insists that witches aren’t real. Magic isn’t real.

I peek up at Elise, gaze drawn to the points of her fangs.

Vampires aren’t supposed to be real, either.

You know what’s funny? I find it so much easier to say, yup, Elise is a bloodsucker. After all, I could tell she had a secret. A huge one. But I thought she was, like, hidden royalty or something. Her accent sealed it for me, and so did the strange was she talks sometimes, almost like she’s as fancy as her name suggests. The way she spoke of her family, and details of a long lineage that she would mention, then dismiss just as quickly.

Then there was my suspicion that she had an eating disorder. In a way, I was right. Elise doesn’t eat because, if this is all true, she drinks blood instead.

Because she’s a vampire .

I guess I’m still kind of hung up on the food thing. Sue me, but when faced with something else that seems impossible, I cling to what I know. Elise doesn’t eat, though she’s always sipping something through that damn metal straw of hers—blood, my mind screams, it’s blood —and when she goes out to eat, she brings home plenty of leftovers. She rarely sees the same man twice after how much Peter got attached to her… but that doesn’t stop her from going out multiple times a week.

“What about all those dinner dates?” I ask. “If you’re a vampire, don’t you drink blood?”

“Someone was having dinner,” murmurs Elise. “And, yes. I need blood to survive, but I can nibble here or there. The males get dinner on me. They let me drink after.”

“So, what? You pick up a guy, go on a date, then eat him for dessert?”

She exhales, and I’m not sure if vampires need to breathe or if it’s the short of reaction I get just by being me. “Is that really what you want to know about my kind first?”

It’s either that or ask if she’s been drinking me since she clearly kept her secret the entire time I’ve known her. And I get it—if I’m a witch, I’m not telling anyone that— but what if her claim to be lonely and looking for a roommate she can trust was BS? Maybe she wanted easy access to food…

“It’s considered uncouth for a female vampire to repeatedly feed on a male if she isn’t going to sleep with him. So I choose donors instead. They get my company and a free meal. I sip their blood after and leave them almost as satisfied as if we had actual intercourse.”

It doesn’t hurt to double-check. “And you only drink dudes?”

A tiny twitch to her lips, though her fangs are still on display. “It usually is a precursor to sex, so yes. But after Peter…” Her voice trails off for a moment. “Vampires don’t need to drink from the vein much. Blood bags do the most to control the thirst, but it does take a drop to tell if a male is a good fit to be my beloved mate. You’re my dearest friend, Bridget. I would never sip from you without permission.”

I believe her. Her voice rings with truth and, well, this is Elise .

That doesn’t mean I can’t be a little hurt. “No. But you sure kept this big ass secret from me.”

Her small grin becomes a frown. “Cadre decree. Only those who need to know the truth about Clarity are allowed to learn that we’re a Fang City.”

Fang City. She said that before… I blink. “Wait. Fang City. Are you telling me that this whole place is full of vampires?”

“Yes, and now you understand why I insisted that I accompany you whenever you left the apartment, especially at night when most of us get thirsty. In Clarity, nearly forty percent of the population is a vamp. You could become any vampire’s donor with just a smile, but if I was there, they knew you were claimed already.”

Is that what happened? I was out on my own tonight, that guy dressed in black was really a vampire who saw easy prey, and he followed me home for his own dinner? If so, what was the deal with the handcuffs? If Elise is proof of how their kind ‘hunt’, a vampire’s beauty is enough to lure a human donor close enough to bite; considering how many people in this city are supermodels, that part at least makes a little sense. Why stalk me like that?

And why would another vampire be patrolling around Clarity, prepared to stop him, if all they need is a couple of seeps to be satisfied? Unless…

Oh.

Humans can be greedy and gorge. What about vampires?

Yeah… since I really don’t want to think about being sucked dry by a vampire, I focus on the handcuffs instead.

He tried to cuff me. Why would he do that unless he was trying to get my hands behind my back like the Cadre did? To keep me from using this supposed magic of mine?

I didn’t know I was a witch. I’m still struggling to accept that that’s the logical excuse behind my fireworks. I had no idea I could do anything like that.

Did he ?

I want to ask about him. Elise mentioned he’s in a human hospital. Sedated. That’s what she said. He’s sedated until Thorn and some other Cadre dude get to talk to him, but if she jumped to the conclusion that I’m a witch, and her friend was there to see the aftermath of what happened on the empty street, she might know more about my attacker.

Too bad I never get the chance to ask before we’re interrupted by a solemn, stone-faced man appearing on the other side of the jail bars.

My first impression is that, despite his expression, he’s gorgeous. High cheek bones. Lush lips. Caramel-colored eyes and golden blond hair styled on a side part. He has on a pricey black suit and is carrying a small box.

Oh, and he has a monstrous pair of fangs on display, overhanging his bottom lip as if showing them off on purpose.

He nods at Elise.

She gives him a nervous grin. “Hello, Jasper.”

Oh. Jasper. Isn’t that the other Cadre dude she brought up before? Ah, jeez. Is he, like, Thorn’s right-hand vamp or something?

Considering the way he turns his piercing gaze on me before saying, “Thorn is ready to meet with the witch,” I’m guessing that he is.

Just like I have to accept that they all think I’m something I’m not.