CHAPTER ONE || BRYAN
“ Y ou afraid of a little sunlight?” The well-manicured forty-something woman behind the front desk raised her gaze from the identification I’d handed her—a fake—and narrowed her dark eyes at me in suspicion.
It was two months after I had left the stronghold and I was standing in a drab motel lobby playing chicken with the sun, which was definitely going to win.
The front desk worker’s eyebrows shot up when I cringed away from the patch of daylight that was inching toward me along the carpet.
“No, ma’am,” I replied hastily. “The sun is fine. Great. Love it so much. Can’t get enough of it.”
She frowned, staring at me like I was an alien, her eyebrows arching—if it were even possible at that point—even further up toward her hairline.
I let out a long, even breath. And then alarm rocketed through me. Because how long had it been since I had last breathed in her presence? Had she noticed the oddity?
I gulped. “Um. Look, I’ve just been on the road way too long already and I’d like to get into a warm bed and get some sleep.”
I tried my best to sound like a weary traveler, like I belonged here even the slightest bit—even though I knew I didn’t. Though, in my rumpled denim pants and matching jean jacket, with the over-stuffed backpack slung over my shoulder, I knew I at least looked the part.
Her frown deepened as she gave me a once-over that stopped at my dark-tinted sunglasses. “It’s a little early for those, isn’t it?”
It was, in fact, a little early for sunglasses. It was barely after six in the morning and the early June sun had just begun to seep over the purple slashes of mountains in the distance, which were steadily becoming more visible through the eastern-facing front office window. But I knew that in twenty minutes, the patch of daylight would have steadily expanded so that the whole room would be filled with sunlight. And then I would be dying.
Well, okay, not literally dying.
Vampires don’t actually burn in the sun or anything like that. That’s a myth. But still, I’d be extremely uncomfortable. My eyes would be burning, my skin would feel almost unbearably hot and stretched way too tight, and I would become so exhausted and drained of vitality that I’d be drooping against the counter like an under-watered houseplant. Older vampires can manage much better, but I’ve only been undead for a few years and I know way better than to be out during the day if I can avoid it.
“I’d really like a room,” I repeated, enunciating each syllable, hoping she’d get the hint and work faster. My smile tightened and I fought back the dark impulses that surged up, threatening to show this poor mortal woman my fangs. I added, forcing myself to sound at least passably calm and pleasant, “Please.”
She shrugged, handing my ID back to me. “You just passing through town, or do you plan on being here a while?”
There was an edge to the question that a normal person probably wouldn’t have heard, but which my vampiric hearing picked up perfectly well. I translated it loud and clear: you’d better not be staying long.
“I’ll be here a few days at most,” I assured her, slipping my ID back into my wallet. The name on it read Wallace Clementine, which wasn’t even remotely close to my real name. But beggars of fake IDs couldn’t be choosers, though I’d have liked to be.
She let out a breath that sounded almost like a sigh of relief. “Glad to hear it. Folks around here are wound up tight.”
I took my sunglasses off and gave her a dazzling smile.
She blinked back at me in surprise.
My eyes don’t look especially inhuman or anything, but they’re a much more vivid green than an ordinary mortal’s eyes would be, like my transformation had turned up the saturation on every part of me in some subtle but unmistakable way.
“And why is that?” I asked, as innocently as I could manage.
Of course, I already knew exactly why everyone was wound up. She had probably been fishing to see if I’d slip up and tell her that’s why I was here.
“Are you a reporter?” she asked, point-blank. “Because this is all strictly off the record, if you are.”
“I’m not a reporter,” I replied. This time, I didn’t need to feign innocence, and I’m certain we both heard the truth in my words. “And you haven’t said anything worth putting on the record, even if I were.”
She frowned back at me, still seeming unsettled by my presence. Meanwhile, the sun crept ever closer to me. If it had still been possible for me to sweat, my brow would have been soaked.
It would have been so very easy to catch her gaze, lull her into a hypnotic trance, and just force her to give me the room key—free of charge and for as long as I wanted. I’d already done way worse, hadn’t I? Hell, she would have set the place on fire, with her still inside it, if I had caught her eye and told her to with enough conviction in my words.
But the thought of using my powers to manipulate someone else’s mind turned my stomach. Between that and the sun inching still closer, I almost—but not quite—felt like I might be sick.
How long had it been since I had fed?
Almost a week. And it had been the animal blood I’d obtained from the specialty butcher I’d gone to back in Portland, who had given me a knowing look and hadn’t asked me any questions.
But how long had I gone without living blood from a mortal?
Much, much longer than that. Months, in fact. Since waking up from the compulsive spells, I hadn’t trusted myself to feed on anyone.
“You’re not here to report on the murder?”
“What murder?” I countered.
“This is a good town,” she said quietly. “We’re all decent, quiet, hardworking people here. We don’t need reporters poking around, saying things about us that aren’t true.”
“I’m not a reporter!” I snapped, at my wit’s end. “I’m here to get a clean, safe place to sleep. Are you going to give me a room or not?”
Strangely, my outburst seemed to calm her.
“So what is it, then? People don’t just wind up here for no reason, Mr. Clementine ,” she said, enunciating the last name on the driver’s license I’d handed her. “And they don’t show up with fancy fake IDs, either.”
My surprise—and guilt—must have been evident on my face.
She clearly noticed because she flashed me a grim smile. “It’s a good fake, sure. But it’s a fake.” But her smile vanished as she studied me for several moments longer — which gave me plenty of time to swear at myself silently for thinking I was so clever, showing up here with the forged ID that had cost me a small fortune to obtain.
But then she surprised me when her expression dissolved into sympathy. Another explanation for my presence had clearly snapped into place for her.
“It was a breakup, then,” she said flatly, leaning back in her chair. “That’s it, isn’t it? You just got in the car and drove until you couldn’t anymore. Given the fact that you’re using a fake name, I’m guessing this guy is a real creep.”
That was actually almost a direct hit—except, of course, for the creep part. Tobias Hawthorne was the opposite of the type of person most people would ever need to run away from. He was good, kind, patient, and annoyingly right about absolutely everything, all of the time.
But I was, in fact, fleeing a breakup. In part, at least.
After all, I had left him behind, hadn’t I? Physically, at least. Mentally and emotionally, he was a constant presence. Just knowing he was out there somewhere made it possible to get through my worst days, even if I had no desire to call him and wreck him all over again.
The truth must have shown, clear as the harsh light of day, all over my face.
She grimaced, the sympathy deepening. I noticed, for the first time, that her features were strong and kind, almost motherly, hidden underneath all the pancaked-on makeup she wore. Strange, how I’d missed it at first.
“What’s your real name, hon?”
“Bryan,” I admitted, feeling disarmed by her sudden about-face.
“Well, Bryan, pleased to meet you. My name is Liz. And I promise you that he’s not going to find you here. I’ll be on the lookout for any guys who come in here solo. And you can stay as long as you like.” She handed me a key. “Second floor, third door from the stairs.”
“Thanks,” I replied, feeling suddenly puzzled—and increasingly alarmed. “Don’t you need a credit card or something to put on file? For incidentals or whatever?”
That caused her to laugh. “We don’t have incidentals here, kiddo. We’ve got a room for you to sleep in, plain and simple. No more, no less.” She paused, then added, “Go on, then. Get some shut eye. You’re safe here. And if anyone comes asking around about you, I’ve never seen anyone matching your description in my life.”
Feeling mildly guilty that I’d allowed her to believe that Tobias was someone dangerous who I’d needed to flee from—not that it was any of her business in the first place—I nodded my gratitude at her and slipped out the office door. The motel at the edge of town was two stories tall, with access to the rooms directly from the parking lot.
I climbed the flight of concrete stairs to the second floor, careful to move only at human speed. I clenched my teeth against the early morning sun, trying to ignore the wave of weakness I felt when it touched my skin. I breathed a sigh of relief when I found the correct room, used the key to open the door, and then slipped inside, away from the daylight.
The space was spartan and cheerless. Just a large bed, a nightstand with an alarm clock on it, a television covered in a thin layer of dust, a depressed-looking lime-green chair in the corner, a stained floral-print rug, and a closet-sized bathroom with a massive mirror hanging on the wall beside it.
It was kind of perfect.
I closed the door behind me, then crossed the room and sank down onto the edge of the bed, dropping my backpack to the floor beside me with a dull thud.
It hit me that I was really doing this.
As if on cue, my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and looked at the caller ID. I answered it immediately.
“You left without saying anything,” came the silken voice of my maker, Veronika. “I’m officially worried.”
I grimaced. “Sorry. I left a note.”
She snorted. “Right. ‘I’ve gone to Poplar Creek. I’ll call soon. Don’t worry about me. And don’t follow.’ Real verbose. It was basically a dear Jane letter.”
“There wasn’t a whole lot else to say.”
“Look, I was hoping I’d have time to talk you out of doing this.” Her even-keel fa?ade slipped, and I heard the concern in her voice for the first time. It would have been touching, but I knew exactly where this conversation was heading. She added, “But you are already there, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Would it change anything if I told you not to do this?”
“No.”
“Fine.” She sighed. “Would you at least wait for me? Hang out for a couple of days and then when I get there, we can hunt ghosts together. I could teach you everything I know.”
“You’re the one who told me about the haunting in the first place,” I reminded her. “Why tell me if you didn’t want me to go and—”
“Get yourself killed all kamikaze-style?”
“I’m a vampire,” I reminded her. “We’re hard to kill.”
“Hard, yes. Impossible, no. All it would take is for some asshole to hit you in the heart with a wooden stake. Or take your head off with a machete. Or set you on fire. Depending on the type of ghost, they’re capable of all three.”
“Careful now, it almost sounds like you care.”
The line went quiet for a long moment. I could picture her on the other end, her long and straight black hair pulled into a loose braid, her dark eyes narrowed at the phone, her severe features bunched into a scowl.
“I preserved your life so that you could have one,” she said at last. “So that you could go back to college and have relationships with your friends and family. So that you could still have your life, even if it was going to be different. And you’re running from that. You’re running from all the things that made you human.”
Her words hit me like bullets, and it was all I could do to keep from literally gasping. “The guy you saved wanted all of that. But he’s gone. He died the second he started murdering innocent people.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“Nine people. Almost ten,” I replied harshly, unable to hear anyone else say it hadn’t really been me . Of course it had. I remembered it perfectly well. It had been my hands. My inhuman strength. My fucking razor-sharp fangs.
Tears prickled in my eyes and, unbidden, I saw the sea of faces again. All of them had been in the prime of their lives. All of them had been innocent, strangers to me. And afterward, every single one of them had stared at me with the empty, accusing gaze of the slain.
Something went tight and cold in my chest. “I took their lives from them, but I couldn’t stop myself .”
I shuddered in horror, shaking my head, even though Veronika couldn’t see me. “The guy who did that to other people… he’s not the same person who can study for an exam like it actually matters, or who can go to meaningless frat parties and get wasted with his friends. And he’s not someone who can sit there and play house with his soulmate and pretend like none of this ever happened. It did happen!”
“Bryan—”
“I’ll call you when it’s done,” I told her, more harshly than I meant to. My hands shook and my insides were a solid block of ice. “Don’t come here. I don’t need help. I’m doing this by myself.”
With that, I hung up the phone and dropped it on the bed next to me.
I sat like that for several long minutes, trying to calm myself. My maker, though she spent her eternity hunting monsters full-time, didn’t understand what any of this was to me. It wasn’t some righteous cause or a way to protect innocent people. It was my way of atoning for everything I had done. It was my way through the darkness.
And I needed it, desperately.
What Liz had no doubt been referring to earlier, when she’d mentioned the murder, was the fact that there had been yet another unexplained death in this town less than a week ago, in the quaint house at the end of Pickery Road, which had been most recently owned—briefly—by a middle-aged couple and their teenaged daughter. It was still unclear exactly what had happened, but whatever it was, the mother and her daughter had both escaped unscathed. The father hadn’t. His murder had been the work of an angry spirit. From what Veronika had gleaned from the news articles she’d found online, the entity had killed other people over the years, with strange deaths going back at least four decades. In one instance, an entire family had been killed.
Well, not anymore. I was going to put a stop to all of it.
I had tried for so long to pretend that I was still me, that I could still be good and innocent and normal, even after I had been turned into a vampire.
But there was something dark inside of me. Something that craved violence. And I wasn’t going to let it hurt anyone ever again. Not regular people, at least. Instead, I would fight evil with it. I was determined to be the monster that protected innocent people from the other, much worse supernatural threats out there.
Starting with this town. It was my chance to prove to myself that I didn’t need some fated mate to tell me what my destiny was. I didn’t need anything or anyone. I just needed to do this.
Yeah, maybe I was running.
But maybe I didn’t care.
Still, I felt raw enough right then that even the barest thought of Tobias hurt like salt in a fresh wound. His bright blue eyes, his wavy red-brown hair, his self-assured manner, his deliciously broad shoulders, his scent, with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg… it was suddenly like he was there, in the room with me.
From the very moment we’d met, Tobias swore up and down that he was my mate. That I was his one true love. And for a minute there, I had almost believed him. But what he didn’t seem to understand was that I didn’t deserve to be loved. More importantly, it was immediately clear to me that Tobias was good in a way that I could never be again. He was pure and kind. And the way he had looked at me, like I was precious and beautiful and worth fighting for, had ripped me apart inside. Being around him wasn’t just hard, it was impossible.
Because what he saw when he looked at me wasn’t true at all.
But, even so, I was pretty sure I was already at least a little bit in love with him.
I was equally certain that part didn’t really matter. I knew what I had to do now. And it sure as hell didn’t involve Tobias, or fated mates, or true love.
I had to go and destroy some monsters. Or die trying. And if I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t be able to pretend I had any right to exist in this world after everything I had done. And I had no idea what I’d do if that happened, but I knew it wouldn’t be good.