13. Amber
I approachWashington Square Park on my own.
The others are here, hidden around the area, but I can’t be seen with them. It would ruin everything.
I should be nervous, or afraid, or something of the sort. But I’m none of those things. Because I can’t get my mind off the Shadow Lord.
I dreamed about him again last night.
He got closer this time. He reached for me, his fingers brushing my cheek, his touch cold as he gazed down at me with those intense, inky pools of his eyes that are inhuman and captivating at the same time. A storm of power and darkness that tugs at the edges of my consciousness, even while awake.
And last night, for the first time, we talked.
“Why are you in my dreams?” I asked him.
His lips curved into a smirk, a gesture both menacing and mesmerizing. “Perhaps it’s not me who haunts your dreams, Amber, but you who haunts mine.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” His voice chilled me to the bone, the challenge in it clear, and I struggled to find my voice through my pounding heart.
“What do you want from me?” I finally asked.
He leaned closer, his breath cool against my skin. “What I want is complex, yet simple. You, Amber, are a puzzle, a beacon of star touched light in my shadowed existence. Your power and spirit call to me. They challenge me.”
I should have run and escaped his grasp.
Instead, I let him get closer. So close that his lips nearly brushed against mine.
I woke before they could.
Now, my heart pounds simply from thinking about him.
They’re just dreams, I remind myself. They’re not real.
But even if they’re not real, they’re created by me. My subconscious mind, trying to tell me something.
I just wish I knew what that something was.
I’m yanked out of my thoughts by my phone buzzing in my pocket.
A message from my mom.
How are you doing? You’ve been quiet recently. Everything okay?
No, I itch to type back. Everything is definitely NOT okay.
But I can’t say that. Her world and mine are galaxies apart now. And the farther I can keep her from this storm I’m caught up in, the better.
So, I raise my phone and snap a photo of the Washington Square Arch. Its marble fa?ade gleams under the sun, majestic against the clear noon sky. Groups of tourists and locals alike smile and chat in the park beyond. It would be a perfect scene, if what I’m about to step into wasn’t so terrifying.
The text to my mom is simple, accompanied by the photo.
Just enjoying the sun at the park with some friends. All good here :)
After sending the message, I tuck my phone away and let my gaze linger on the arch. It’s beautiful.
However, I didn’t come here to sightsee.
So, I reach for the small, plastic bag in my pocket, open it, and pull out the single berry inside. It’s like the reddest raspberry that ever existed, its skin shimmering not from the sunlight above, but from magic within.
It’s not duskberry.
It’s more like lustberry. At least, that’s what Damien jokingly called it. The fae queen calls it adorfruit, but I appreciated Damien’s attempt at humor around the situation.
I can’t believe I’m doing this again, I think, half-amused, half-wary at the thought of consuming another magical fruit. But this time, I know what I’m getting in to—or so I hope.
And so, taking a deep breath, I bring it to my lips and pop it into my mouth.
Its burst of flavors dances on my tongue, sweet and tart and somehow sparkling, as if I’m consuming the essence of the fae realm itself. In seconds, a warm buzz travels through my body as its magic rushes through my veins. A whirlwind of excitement, hope, and nerves—like when you have a major crush on someone and are praying they feel the same.
Excitement thrums in my veins, the berry’s magic making me feel more alive, more daring. Ready to face Lucas and give him exactly what he wants.
Me.
With no time to waste, I step through the arch and into Washington Square Park, alone but aware of the hidden eyes of my allies.
They have my back.
Our plan is solid.
It’s going to be okay.
I gaze around the park, which is bustling with life. Musicians playing lively tunes, children chasing pigeons, couples lounging on blankets. To any onlooker, I’m just another visitor enjoying the day.
Little do they know, they’re hanging out in one of the few neutral territories for the city’s supernatural community.
Now, if only I knew what I was looking for.
Unsure what else to do, I make some laps around the park. There are eccentric characters hanging out in it, but I don’t spot Lucas amongst them. Everything feels like a normal summer day.
By my third lap, a huge crowd has gathered around the center of the park. They’re clapping and cheering, and as I make my way closer, it doesn’t take long to see the object of their attention.
A skateboarder with floppy brown hair who looks to be in his twenties is center stage on a sunken area of concrete, pulling off a series of nearly impossible moves. He flips and spins, his board glued to his feet as he does an actual loop through the air and glides back down with a grace no human should be able to manage. It’s like the wind is behind him, guiding him, keeping him safe.
Air magic.
It has to be.
Which would mean he’s a vampire.
“Pretty cool, huh?” a guy beside me in an NYU t-shirt says.
“Amazing,” I respond, my eyes not leaving the skateboarder. “It’s like he’s defying gravity.”
He lands another impossible jump, and the crowd erupts into applause and cheers. He acknowledges them with a grin, skating in a small circle before setting up for another trick.
This time, as he launches into the air and reaches for his board, his sleeves move up, revealing his wrists.
Broken shackles are tattooed around them.
Tattoos identical to the ones inked on the wrists of Lucas and his clan members.