Feel me, a melodious voice floats through my head. Feel my death …
Dizziness swims in my brain as her death seeps through my body … The pain … It’s unbearable … as hot as lightning yet as cold as a blizzard. I can barely breathe as images flicker through my mind. A tug kisses at my fingertips. I swear I fall … fall into her … become her … die with her.
“We shouldn’t be here,” I say as I stand in the middle of the field surrounded by my fellow fey. My violet skin sparkles in the pale moonlight, my silver hair whips in the wind, and a scorching hot power blazes through my veins. “This is a trap.”
The man in front of me turns toward me, brushing a lock of his inky black hair out of his crystal blue eyes. “Adaliya, you need to calm down. We have a truce with the Lord of the Afterlife, and he wouldn’t dare break that.”
I laugh hollowly. “You really think that’s true? That the Lord cursed with darkness in his veins wouldn’t screw you over?”
“Do I need to remind you who I am?” His threat rumbles from his chest. “Unlike you, I’m not some mere civilian fey. Royal blood pumps through my veins. Remember your place, Adaliya.”
Anger simmers under my skin, but I lower my head into a bow. “Yes, sir. I’m just nervous. With the water fey roaming the world now, I’m worried that everything is going to change, that truces might be broken and new ones formed.”
“I understand your concern, but I assure you the Lord of the Afterlife would not dare do anything to break the truce with the fey.” He towers over me. “We’re too powerful.”
I internally sigh. The Prince of the North Kingdom is too arrogant for his own good. I should have followed my gut instinct and stayed in the Fey Realm tonight in the safety of our magic.
“You said the Lord sent a letter for us to meet him here tonight,” I proceed with caution, choosing my words carefully to avoid angering him more. “But what exactly did he promise that made you so easily break the laws of leaving your kingdom?”
“He said he found the Branch of Eternity.” He casts a glance up at the night sky now hazed with clouds. “He wants to make a bargain for it.” His eyes land back on me. “Do you know what that would mean for our kind? It would free us from death forever.”
“We already live too long as it is,” I say. “Not everyone wants to live forever.”
“Well, I do, and that’s all that matters.” He turns his back on me, leaving me to stew in my frustration.
How dare he bring our army out here and risk our lives, all so he can have immortality! He doesn’t even know if the letter is actually from the Lord of the Afterlife.
I start to turn away, ready to disobey rules and walk away from this, when a low, grumbling sound rises from the trees. I strain my eyes against the darkness and make out the shadows of human-like figures with red, glowing eyes.
“Eyes of the blood thirsty ones,” I whisper in horror. I reach for the prince to warn him, but a scream shatters through the air.
Blurry figures zip out from the trees, moving so fast my eyes can barely keep up. The scent of rust floods the land, and the ground below me softens like mud. At first, I think that maybe it started to rain, but when I glance down, I realize the dirt is soaked in blood.
A gasp escapes my lips as I trip back, reaching for my dagger in my sheath, but a figure zooms toward me and slams their hands against my chest. The dagger falls from my hands as I stumble to the ground, landing on the bodies of my fallen friends.
Dead. Everyone’s dead.
A sob wrenches from my chest as I extend my arm to the side and feel around for my weapon. Blood coats my fingers, and tears stain my cheeks.
“No. This can’t be happening.”
“But it is.” A deathly, emotionless face appears above me. Her skin is as pale as the moon, her hair as black as the sky, and her teeth as sharp as my missing dagger.
“You’re a vampire.” My voice trembles as I lean back, my fingers tracing the ground, searching for my dagger.
“Wow. You’re a sharp one,” she ridicules with a smirk before wrapping her fingers loosely around my neck and leaning in. “I guess fey were never really known for their intelligence, though, were they?”
“But we were here to meet the Lord of the Afterlife.”
“Did you really believe that?” She laughs. “How stupid of you.”
I want to tell her she’s wrong, want to be confident and strong, but fear overwhelms me, and I only manage to get one word out. “Why?”
“Why?” She hovers closer, so close I can smell the stench of blood staining her pierced lips. “That’s the best you can come up with?”
My fingers graze the handle of my dagger, and a drop of hope rises in my chest. “What else am I supposed to ask?”
Her smile widens, blood dripping down her chin. “How about this?” She leans closer, putting her lips to my ear. “Who?”
My fingers fold around the metal handle. “But I already know the answer. It’s right in front of me.”
She laughs wickedly, the sound sending a chill down my spine. “Stupid fey. Nothing is ever that simple.” She slants away from me, raising her head into the moonlight, her lips parting, her fangs ready to sink into my flesh and rip me to bits.
That’s when I spot the sequence of symbols branded into her throat.
“You’re from one of the facilities,” I whisper, inching my dagger close. “This isn’t you. This is them, the Electi. They did this to you.”
Anger flares in her eyes. “The facilities have done nothing to me except bring out what I truly am!” she roars, her fangs lengthening as she throws her head back.
A trail of moonlight spills across her bloody throat and collarbone. In the hollow of her throat, inked into her flesh, is a tattoo of a blood droplet with a silvery T carved into the center. She’s part of the territory clan that lives near Virginia Beach by the coastline. Usually, territory vampires are less violent and more in control of their blood thirst.
It hast to be because of the facilities. They ruined her, just like they’re ruining everything else.
I bring my dagger up, aiming it at her chest, but she captures my arm and digs her nails into my flesh.
I wince in pain, the weapon slipping from my fingers as her fangs sink into my neck and split open my throat.
I’m dying …
I really am …
Chapter 8
“Well, Jax, I have to say, you really picked a winner here,” an unfamiliar voice says. “Fainting at the scene? I think that might be a first.”
“It’s not a first, and you know it. Over half the newbies faint when they see their first real crime scene,” Jax replies with a deafening exhale. “And, if I’m remembering correctly, you were one of them.”
I want to open my eyes and see who she is, see where I am, but I’m afraid. Cold.
Terrified.
“You’re right. I did.” The woman’s voice turns flirty. “But I’m surprised you remember that.”
“How could I forget?” Jax replies. “I’m the one who caught you and saved your ass from smacking the pavement.”
She laughs. “Well, I guess you were just paying me back early for all the times I’ve saved that cute, little butt of yours.”
I wait for Jax to respond, but he doesn’t. Instead, warm fingers spread across my cheeks.
“Alana, open your eyes.” His breath seeps into my skin and thaws the deathly coldness inside me. “Please. You’re really starting to worry me.”
I don’t want to open my eyes at all. I don’t want to see the bodies on the ground, bodies I just saw die with my own eyes. How did I see through the eyes of the dead faerie, though? Maybe I’m becoming a Foreseer and am just tapping into my powers? Although, from everything I know, seeing through the dead’s eyes isn’t a Foreseer trait.
I wait for my grandpa’s voice to show up in my mind and tell me if I’m correct or not, but all I hear is the memory of the screams as the fey fell to their painful deaths.
Not knowing what else to do, I open my eyes and return to reality.
The sky is the first thing to come into focus, followed by Jax’s face. His sunglasses are drawn to the top of his head, so I get a clear view of the worry flooding his eyes.
“Thank God.” A relieved breath eases from his lips, but worry resides in his eyes as he remains crouched beside me with his hands cupping my face. “Are you okay? You fell pretty hard when you fainted.”
I want to tell him that I didn’t faint, but I zip my lips shut when I become highly aware we have an audience.
The woman standing behind him offers me a stiff smile. She looks a few years older than me with shoulder-length black hair streaked with a bit of red. Like Jax, she’s dressed head to toe in black; only, her outfit includes slacks and a business jacket.
“Glad to see there’s no permanent damage,” she tells Jax as she types something into her phone.
“We don’t know if there’s any permanent damage,” he tells her, leaning closer to examine me. “She could have a concussion. I think I should take her to the doctor.”
“I’m fine.” I force him to move back and let go of my face as I sit up. The field and trees around me sway with my movements, and my stomach churns as the scent of death assaults my nostrils again. “I don’t have a concussion.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” he says, sweeping strands of my hair out of my eyes. “You need to get checked out.”
“I’m fine,” I insist. Then, to prove it, I stand to my feet. “See? Perfectly fine.”
He stands up, too, his gaze trained on me. “Are you sure? Because I’m okay with taking you to the doctor. The academy’s not that far away. It’ll only take a few minutes—”
“Jax, if she says she’s fine, then I’m sure she’s fine,” the woman interrupts. “And if she does have a concussion, there’s not much to be done.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He seems torn, his gaze flicking up and down my body as if expecting injuries to suddenly materialize. “But I think she should go wait in the car while I finish up here.”
“That’s fine with me.” The woman turns to me with a stiff smile and offers her hand for me to shake. “I’m Hadlee, by the way. Jax’s supervisor.”
I inconspicuously eye her over. Is she just a Guardian, or does she have other marks on her? It’s hard to tell without actually seeing the marks, but her skin does feel noticeably cold. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Alana … but you probably already know that.”
“I did.” She lets go of my hand, her smile softening as she twists toward Jax. “Check in with me before you leave, okay?”
He nods, his attention still fixed on me. “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.”
She steals another glance at me and frowns before turning and hiking down the field.
“I think she likes you,” I tell Jax after Hadlee is out of earshot.
“She might,” he says, watching me closely. “Does that bother you?”
I roll my eyes, but the movement makes my head throb. I bring my fingers to my temple, wincing.
His expression plummets. “Alana, I really don’t think you’re fine. When you fainted, you—”
“I didn’t faint,” I whisper. “I …” I, what, Alana? You don’t even know what happened. “I think I need some fresh air.”
Without looking at the dead bodies, I make my way back to the road. I figure Jax will stay behind and finish up his job, but instead, he follows me down the path to his car.
I climb into the passenger seat without saying a word, flip down the visor, and cringe at my reflection in the small mirror. Blood marks scuff my cheeks, jawline, and neck, painfully reminding me of how it felt when the vampire sank her fangs into the fey’s neck.
I frantically start scrubbing at the blood with my fingers as tears burn in my eyes. Is it my blood or the fey's? It doesn’t really matter.
For a few minutes, I was her. I felt her pain. I felt what it was like when the blood was spilled from her throat.
“You landed in some blood when you fell,” Jax says, sliding into the driver’s seat. He shuts the door and watches me with worry. “That’s where the blood came from.”
I don’t respond, my fingers moving violently against my flesh, desperate to wash off the blood and the memories.
“Alana, stop.” He captures my hand and draws my fingers away. “You’re making your skin bleed.”
I glance at my reflection in the mirror and note the fresh wounds my fingernails inflicted along the base of my throat. Swallowing hard, I close the visor, highly aware his eyes are tracking every single one of my movements.
“You said you didn’t faint,” he says, letting go of my hand. “If that’s not what happened, then what did?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, flopping back in the seat.
“Okay … Then how do you know you didn’t faint?”
“Because …” God, how can I even try to explain this to him? And should I even try to explain it to him?
His gaze bores into me. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“You don’t know that for sure.” I rest my head back against the seat and stare up at the ceiling. “Not when you have no idea what I’m about to say.”
Silence drifts between us, and I shut my eyes. But the moment my eyelids close, red floods my vision, and I open them right back up.
“You know it took me a year to tell my parents I’d been bitten by a werewolf,” he utters quietly. “And the only reason I told them was because they started questioning why I was disappearing all the time. And not just all the time, but whenever there was a full moon. The thing is that I probably could’ve told them right from the beginning, and their reaction would’ve been the same, but instead, I chose to suffer in silence for a year.”
I turn my head toward him, and my gaze collides with his. “Did you feel better when you told them? I mean, were they understanding?”
“My mom was more understanding than my father.” He rotates in the seat. “But even though my father … struggled with my change, I was still glad I told them because they were there to help me through it whenever I was struggling. My mom helped me more than my dad, but still … Without her, I don’t know who I’d be today.”
My thoughts drift back to Dash and the tension he carried when he spoke of their father. Jax’s expression conveys the same stiffness at the mention of their dad, which makes me question just what kind of a man he is.
“How do you know I have a secret to tell?” I ask. “Maybe I’m just acting weird because the rotten stench of death plaguing the air is making me delirious.”
“Werewolves have a sixth sense about these things.” He extends his arm toward my neck and presses two fingers against my racing pulse. “Your pulse has been beating like crazy ever since you woke up. Something’s wrong.” His fingers trail down the side of my neck, sending shivers through my body. “You’re scared for some reason.”
Without removing my gaze from him, I point out at the field where the dead bodies lie. “Obviously.”
“But you weren’t scared when you first saw the scene. Not like this, anyway.” He inhales deeply, and I cringe, wondering what he could possibly smell. “You’re terrified. I can smell it.”
He’s right. I am terrified, a feeling I’ve only experienced a handful of times.
“FYI, that smelling thing you just did is super creepy,” I joke, but my tone misses the mark. I shift in the seat, and his fingers fall away from my neck. “But you’re right. Something did happen to me out on the field. Something bad. Something terrifying.” A chill slithers up my spine as the fey’s memories slink into my thoughts. “I think I might know who killed the fey.”
He startles back, confusion swirling in his eyes. “What?”
“I saw something … when I touched one of the fey’s arms …”
“Like a mark?”
“No …” I hesitate, knowing I’m going to sound crazy. But I have to tell him, have to convince him that w
hat I saw is true so we can track down those vampires who slaughtered the fey and arrest them. Although I would way rather go the Keeper route on this and inflict the same pain on them as they did to the fey, that’s not the Guardian way.
Le sigh.
“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say,” he says, totally lost.
I sigh. “I guess there’s no easy way to say this, but when I touched the Fey’s arm, I saw her thoughts. No, not just saw them, I lived them. And they weren’t just any thoughts. They were the ones she had right before she died.”
It takes a second for it to click, and then his eyes widen. “Wait a second. Are you saying that you saw who killed them?”
I nod, hoping upon hope that what happened to me is some sort of freaky Guardian trait I haven’t learned about yet. “Yeah, I saw the whole thing play out through her eyes.” I shake my head. “No, it was more than that. It was like I was her for a few minutes.”
His mouth thins to a line as he presses his lips together. “Wait here. I need to go talk to Hadlee.” He moves to get out of the car.
“Wait.” I snag hold of the hem of his shirt and pull him to a stop. “What happened to me is normal, right? It happens to Guardians?”
“I’m sorry,” he says with grave remorse. “I wish I could tell you that was it, but I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”
My knuckles graze his back as I tighten my grasp on his shirt. “Then I don’t want you telling Hadlee. I don’t want anyone knowing about this, not until I know what’s going on with me.”
“I’m not going to tell Hadlee about that.” He gives a stressing glance toward the front of the car where a group of five or six Guardians are standing around, talking and discussing the case. “I’m going to tell her that we’re leaving, that you’re sick, and I need to take you to the doctor.”
“But you’re not really taking me to the doctor, right?” I ask, releasing his shirt from my death grip.
“No, I’m taking you someplace safe where no one can overhear what we discuss, because if what you’re saying is true … if you saw….” He rubs his hand across his face so roughly his fingertips leave red marks on his skin. Then he gives a panicked glance at the people outside and leans in and lowers his voice. “If you saw what happened—saw the killer—and the wrong person finds out about it …” He doesn’t finish.