Savage Hope (The Savage Six #1)

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TEN YEARS OLD

“ A re you excited, Honey?”

My fingers curl into the fabric of my birthday dress as I rub my lips nervously. My mother and father smile down at me, making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I shrug, my shoulders moving just a little and my mother’s smile weakens as she leans closer, running her thumb over my cheek in comfort. It eases the sharp pain in my chest a little, but I still can’t bring myself to feel the excitement they’re waiting for.

“It’s going to be okay, Darling,” my father says, crouching in front of me, his eyes still warm behind his thick-rimmed glasses. “We’re right here with you—every step of the way. It’s simply a pin prick this morning, and then in a few days, we’ll find your blood connection.”

My bottom lip wobbles as tears gather in my eyes, the storm rattling in my chest, growing with every breath until I can’t contain it anymore. “But I don’t want to die.”

There, I said it.

I let the dam break open and the truth reveals itself. The soft smile on my mother’s face confirms my outburst isn’t a surprise as the sweeping of her thumb continues.

My hands are clenched in my dress. The soft silver color that matches my hair is a crumpled mess, but I can’t let go. Speaking the words hasn’t calmed the pain and worry simmering inside of me; it only burns brighter now that the words have escaped my lips.

“You’re not going to die,” she soothes, tucking a loose curl of hair behind my ear as I sniffle. “I’m right here. I didn’t die, neither did your father.”

They’re standing right in front of me, but that doesn’t change what I know. It doesn’t change the truth. “But Georgia said it’s a blood curse, that I can’t control until I’m twenty-one, and if I haven’t by the time I turn twenty-two, I’m going to die. We’re all going to die.” My sobs turn into a wail and my eyelids clamp shut, refusing to see the truth that I know will flash in my parents’ eyes.

It’s not just Georgia, either. We learned all about it in school this week. The teachers spoke of it too. They weren’t quite as blunt as Georgia was, but still, a darkness seeped into their gaze.

“Darling, open your eyes.” I scrunch them tighter, feeling the tears track down my face, but my father pushes on. “I need you to look at me so I know you truly hear me.”

Lips press against my temple, and my mother’s hand on my cheek is gone. Despite my hesitation, I pry my eyes open and settle my stare on my father. I look at him, just like he wants, but this time, I really look at him. It feels like the first time I’m genuinely taking note of the man I love so much.

His brown hair is a mess from the constant fidgeting of his fingers swiping through it throughout the day; a nervous habit he’s always had. His blue eyes are piercing, made brighter by the glasses that frame them. His nose is sharp, his lips wide, and the dots of freckles across his cheeks makes him look younger than I guess he is. An old band t-shirt is hidden behind a worn black blazer and his tattered jeans fall over a pair of frayed sneakers.

I hope I don’t get my sense of style from him when I’m older—assuming I get to be older.

The reminder sends another pang of panic down my spine, but it’s quickly quelled by my father’s hands wrapping around my wrists as he brings my attention back to his face.

“I won’t lie to you, Darling, what they say is true, but not yet, not now. Today is all about testing your blood so we can find out who was born at the exact same time as you, who your blood kin is. The curse doesn’t take effect until you’re twenty-one. There is time. Lots and lots of time.”

My face crumples as I shake my head. “Why do we have to know now if it doesn’t matter until then?”

Why scare me now?

Why tell me at all?

“Because it’s important for both families to work together to ensure you both remain safe.”

I rear back, looking over my father’s shoulder to where my mother stands. Her hands are clenched together, nerves flourishing into the air around her as she nibbles at her bottom lip. Her flowery dress blows gently in the wind, the small cardigan over her shoulders providing little more than an extra thin layer of protection against the autumn weather. Her hair is as silver as mine, and our eyes are the same shade of blue, too, but the smile plastered on her face doesn’t resemble me at all.

I don’t think I’m going to smile again.

Ever.

“Why do we want to keep them safe too if only one of us can survive?”

It doesn’t make sense to me. Not even a little. They’ve talked about it all week at school, and I know the people inside the medical center a few steps away are waiting to take my blood so they have the results, but why?

My parents seem excited about it, encouraging even, but it doesn’t make sense.

“Because until you turn twenty-one, if something happens to one of you, it happens to both of you.”

“If something happens?”

My father glances over his shoulder, looking to my mother for help. She offers me her hand, and I take it, basking in the warmth of her touch as she pulls me into her side. “If they were to die before then, you would too, and vice versa, so it’s important for us to protect you both at all costs.”

Horror blossoms in my veins as I gape at my mother.

“B-but you said I wasn’t going to die yet!” I tremble beneath the weight of her words, and she nods.

“And you won’t. Not when we can protect you. This is a good thing, Honey. I promise.”

Two words, and my confidence in her grows. They have a particular way of calming the storm inside of me. Guided by trust, I let their words wash over me, drawing the power of them into my bones as I exhale slowly.

I promise.

Two simple words, and I shake the tremors that threaten to make me explode.

With my free hand, I wipe the tears from my face and push my hair back, while my other hand clings to my mother as though my life depends on it.

Seemingly, it does.

“Just a pinprick?” I ask, glancing at my father, who remains crouched beside me, and he nods.

“Just a pinprick,” he repeats, digging a hand into his pocket to reveal a flash of gold. “Hold on to this; it will always protect you, okay?”

He holds out a gold coin and I watch in awe as it shimmers under the sun. Taking it from his grasp, I bring it closer, noting the pattern on one side of it. It’s etched so delicately it’s not easy to make out at first, but it almost looks as though it’s the face of a joker. A silly hat with bells on the ends and a long face, just like the ones we’ve read about in books, from times when blood curses didn’t hold us all captive.

Turning it over in my hand, initials adorn the other side and nothing else.

T.M.O.G.

“Now, are we ready to get this part over with so we can move on to the birthday party for the princess herself?” my father asks, drawing my attention back to him, and I nod, slipping the coin into the small pocket sewn into my dress.

If anything is going to make this better, it’s cake.

My eyes are fixated on the Band-Aid wrapped around my finger. There had been a single drop of blood left on the very tip of my finger when they were done. The red stain spread across the fabric of the bandage, making it look so much worse than it was. Father says I won’t even know it’s there in the morning.

It wasn’t exciting, but it wasn’t disastrous, either. It was just a nurse with some kind of device that pricked the end of my finger and did…something.

I’ve always known I had a blood kin—we all do—everyone in my class at least, but until today it had always been some kind of faraway idea that I never really even thought about. Now, someone is out there going through what I am going through, and come tomorrow, we’ll officially know of one another.

What’s that going to feel like?

As an only child, the prospect of a blood kin instinctively fills me with excitement and questions of whether they will like me or not, maybe even become a friend, but reality quickly rears its ugly head and I know the likelihood of that happening is slim.

We have eleven years. Eleven years where we will both exist before the curse takes effect. Only one can survive. No one has told me the details of how it is decided, but my fate is known. My fate is confirmed. There’s nothing I can do about it.

“Where is the birthday girl hiding?” My mother’s sing-song voice pulls me from my thoughts and my hiding spot.

Leaving the safety of my treehouse behind, I hurry over the long grass to where she stands at the kitchen door. My father is a step behind her, and I spy the flickering candles on the cake behind them.

Genuine happiness spreads through my chest for the first time today, leaving a wide smile on my face. Eager to blow out the little balls of fire, I move to sprint into the house, but my mother plants her hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

“Hold up, birthday girl. You have a gift to open first.”

Turning to her with wide eyes, I spy the wrapped box in her hand. The silver bow holding it in place is soft against my touch, but the wonder it brings quickly fades when I tear the gift open.

The contents almost tumble to the ground, but my mother catches them just in time. I’m too busy staring in awe at the two golden bangles in her grasp to do anything but appreciate how they sparkle.

“Aren’t you going to put them on, Darling?” my father asks, nodding for me to do just that.

My mother slips one onto each wrist and I gape in wonder at the new jewelry. It seems one too many times dipping into my mother’s jewelry box has gifted me my own today.

“Thank you,” I breathe, still in a state of disbelief.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

As soon as I think about it, my gaze drops back to my fingertip and my thoughts darken.

Maybe not the best birthday ever.

My mother must catch the shift in me because she’s eye level with me a moment later, my hands in hers as she looks at the bandage. “Do you want to see a magic trick?” she asks, making my eyebrows crinkle in confusion, but I still nod. “Okay, but you can’t treat me any differently when you see how fabulous I am, alright?” she adds with a wink, and a small chuckle tumbles from my mouth.

“Okay,” I agree, completely distracted and caught up in her smile.

She undoes the Band-Aid, revealing the tiniest pin-prick on the tip of my finger. “Ready?” she asks, and I nod, even though I have no idea what she’s doing. The quietest whisper slips from her lips, so soft I have no idea what she’s saying, but when she strokes her thumb over my fingertip, a warmth spreads across my skin. I gape in confusion, but her touch is gone a moment later, and so is my pin-prick mark.

“Now , do you want to make a wish, Honey?” she murmurs, pointing at the pink cake decorated with a rose in the center.

I glance between her and my finger but the flickering of the candles draws my attention away, and with my new bangles for company, I hurry to the table. My gaze is fixed on the flames like my mother didn’t just do…whatever that was. I hear my parents sing Happy Birthday to me, but the words are a dull, distant drone as I watch the fire dance. It’s only when my father plants a hand on my shoulder and tells me to make a wish that I remember what I’m supposed to do.

I plant my hands on either side of the cake, leaning forward as I decide on a wish for this year.

I had initially planned to wish for jewelry, but after today, after my gift, I know that’s not where my wish needs to go.

There’s only one wish I want to be granted.

Taking a deep breath, I extinguish the flames as I scream my wish as loud as I can in my head.

I wish to survive the blood curse.

Overcome with fear, I can’t sleep.

The unknown future leaves me feeling helpless. Questions swirl in my mind, and I worry that my dreams will be haunted by what might happen, keeping me awake, staring at the ceiling.

I’ve tried distracting myself, counting sheep, even closing my eyes and praying for sleep, but nothing seems to be working. The only sense of comfort I have found is from my father’s coin pressed tightly against my palm. Occasionally, I rub my thumb over the face, imprinting the engraving to memory, but mostly, I hold it in fear of losing it.

I can hear my father’s snores through the wall. It’s almost comforting, but a sense of loneliness clings to me like a second skin.

Closing my eyes for the fiftieth time, I will sleep to come. I’ve counted to eighty-seven before I sense slumber lurking like a shadow in the corners of my mind. Trying to remain calm, I keep counting, and the weight of my eyes grows heavy.

It’s happening, it’s finally happening.

The remaining tension leaves my body as the promise of darkness washes over me, and that’s when a bang rings out in the distance.

My eyes dart open, my body stiff as I peer around my room, searching for the source of the noise, but all I’m greeted with is the pitch-black of the late hour. Straining my ears, I listen for something else, anything else, but when nothing comes, I try to relax again.

Taking a deep breath, I settle into the mattress, letting my eyelids fall closed. The second my eyelashes grace my cheeks, another bang echoes around me, only this time, it’s closer. Much closer.

I jolt in the bed, sitting up straight as my eyes dart to the door.

It’s not the shadows that greet me this time.

It’s a man.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

I gulp, panic flooding my limbs as I stare in horror at the looming figures in my doorway.

The man at the front takes a step toward me, and it’s as if the movement sets off a trigger inside of me. I scream.

My lungs burn, my throat raw as an almighty cry parts my lips.

I have no idea if my parents can hear me. I can only hope. All I know is that I set the men in my room into motion the moment I shriek.

Fingers coil around my arms and legs as I’m torn from my bed. I panic, freezing in place as I scream and cry, but I just can’t fight them off. The noise doesn’t seem to bother them as they march me from the room.

My general cries become pleas for my mother and father, but I still find myself outside in the cold night air, growing no closer to them as a black van waits on our driveway.

Reality kicks in and understanding dawns on me.

I have to fight. I have to.

Swinging my arms and legs against their hold, I catch them by surprise and manage to slip my right arm free. My hand is balled and ready, with my coin still pressed tightly against the palm of my hand, but before I can attempt a feeble swing, a white cloth is pressed against my mouth.

My vision blurs.

My mind goes quiet.

My screams become muffled.

For the first time tonight, the darkness truly takes me, and my last thought plays on a loop in my mind, wondering if this is what death feels like.