Chapter Ten #2
I swallow hard, fear and awe tangling tightly in my chest as the truth settles in.
Some monsters hunt.
Some burn.
Grizz doesn’t do either.
He holds the line.
Near the pool tables, Ronan moves like he’s dancing.
It hits me all at once, that loose, effortless sway, the way he never quite looks where he’s stepping, never where the danger should be.
Vampires lunge for him and somehow trip over nothing, their bodies tangling as if the floor itself has turned against them.
Weapons jam at the worst possible moment.
Bullets veer off course, curving away from him in ways my brain refuses to process.
A breathless laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.
Of course.
All those times I’d sworn things around Ronan went sideways, the coincidences, the near-misses, the way trouble never quite landed where it was meant to, it was never luck.
It was him.
I watch, half hysterical, half awed, as the luck of the Irish plays out in real time. A vampire swings a metal pipe at his head, and at that exact moment, Ronan’s shoelace comes untied. He bends instinctively, the pipe slicing harmlessly through empty air above him.
“Come on, lads,” he shouts, laughing, a wild grin splitting his face. “Is that the best your luck can do?”
My pulse races as something tight in my chest finally loosens.
The monsters aren’t just real.
So is the magic I was never quite brave enough to believe in.
I spin, hearing screams from behind me, and Jet is everywhere.
And nowhere.
My eyes struggle to track him, my head throbbing as his form slips in and out of reality.
One second, he’s solid enough to see, the next, he’s translucent, blurred at the edges, attacks passing straight through him like he was never there at all.
My pulse stutters, panic clawing up my throat while my brain fails to keep up.
This isn’t movement.
It’s absence.
Every time he solidifies, terror follows.
Vampires recoil, stumbling back, confusion rippling through their ranks like a sickness.
One swings wildly at where Jet was, and punches another vampire instead, the crack of bone sharp and sickening.
I flinch, hands shaking as I press myself tighter into the shadows.
Then Jet is behind them.
I don’t see him move. He’s just… there.
He leans in, close enough to whisper something I can’t hear, and whatever it is, it shreds them. Both vampires scream, raw and animal, collapsing as if something inside them has been cut loose. I suck in a breath that tastes like fear and metal, my skin crawling as a cold realization sinks in.
Fire burns you.
Claws tear you apart.
Nightmares break your mind.
But Jet? Jet doesn’t fight you.
He arrives… and you already know it’s too late.
From the upper level, a sound rips through the chaos like a blade, and my body reacts before my mind can catch up.
I gasp, pain detonating behind my eyes when the scream slams into me—raw, endless, painful.
I tilt my head up to see Eden, but not the gentle woman I know from behind the bar at Sins & Spirits.
She’s ghostly, blood dripping down her face as she screams. This isn’t a voice meant for the living.
It’s anguish given form, the echo of every death she’s ever foreseen crushed into a single, devastating wail.
Windows explode outward in showers of glass.
Cracks spiderweb across the walls, racing away from the sound as if trying to escape it.
Vampires falter mid-attack, hands flying to their ears, faces contorting in panic.
Some collapse to their knees, screaming or sobbing, their bodies folding beneath the weight of it.
I drop too.
My chest tightens painfully, breath hitching as a crushing pressure bears down on my lungs. Cold certainty seeps into my veins, heavier than fear, heavier than panic.
I know this feeling.
It isn’t a threat.
It’s a promise.
Death isn’t nearby.
It isn’t circling.
Through the chaos of Eden’s terror, my brain tries to tell me this is normal, to ensure that what I am seeing right now is one hundred percent fine.
That I am not currently having a complete mental breakdown, but suddenly, a familiar warm voice, the kind that wraps around a room and makes you feel held, surges through the air.
Seraphine opens her mouth, and everything changes.
Her voice rises in a combat aria, the notes sharp and commanding, weaving together into something that doesn’t just fill the air, it bends it. The sound hits me like pressure, like being pulled under water, my skin buzzing as reality itself seems to tilt.
Where she directs her song, gravity obeys.
Vampires are ripped off their feet and hurled into walls with bone-jarring force, bodies slamming hard enough to crack concrete.
Others are dragged upward, pinned helplessly to the ceiling as her voice climbs higher.
One vampire turns to run, and I watch in horrified fascination as his movements slow, limbs dragging through the air like he’s trapped in syrup, her song crushing the very weight of his body.
My pulse stutters, breath shallow, as something deep inside me strains toward her voice even as terror coils tight in my chest. I suddenly understand why sirens were never meant to be resisted. And yet somehow, her voice is calming me at the same damn time.
Suddenly, glass explodes inward as Reyna comes through it, and for a stunned heartbeat, I forget how to breathe. Armor flickers into existence around her mid-leap, ancient and radiant, locking into place like it always belonged there. The air shifts the moment her boots hit the floor.
Storm energy crackles from her hands, like lightning and the echo of something older. The kind of tempest that once decided the fate of armies.
She moves like she was born for this.
Every strike is precise, efficient, and devastating. Vampires fall before her in rapid succession, their attacks deflected as if they were clumsy, mortal things. I watch, transfixed, as one lunges for her throat, and she catches it mid-bite, her fingers closing around its neck without hesitation.
The storm answers, power surges down her arm in violent waves, thunder rolling through her veins. Light erupts through her fingers, and the vampire convulses, body seizing as its insides liquefy, collapsing in on itself before she discards it like something already dead.
My pulse thunders in my ears, awe drowning out fear as a single, bone-deep truth settles over me.
I don’t know what she is…
I don’t know what any of them are…
To me, they are monsters.
Every single one of them.
And they’re utterly magnificent.
But there are too many attackers.
Even with all this power, the vampires keep coming.
And they’re not fighting like mindless creatures. They’re coordinated, tactical, and moving in formation.
Something’s wrong.
I see it in Crave’s movements. He’s fighting brilliantly, tearing through vampires with centuries of skill, but his expression is troubled and focused on something beyond the battle.
Eden appears near me, her form flickering, backing away from three vampires closing in on her position. She’s powerful, but cornered. If she unleashes her full scream, she’ll kill everyone, friend and foe alike.
The vampires know it too.
They’re grinning, fangs dripping.
No.
I don’t think, I just move.
I grab a broken chair leg from the debris and rush forward, swinging it at the nearest vampire. “Get away from her.”
The creature turns, almost amused, and backhands me casually.
The impact sends me flying across the room. I slam into a wall, and pain explodes through my entire body. The world tilts, goes fuzzy at the edges.
“Sloane!” Crave’s voice is distant and desperate.
I try to get up, but my body won’t cooperate. Through blurred vision, I see one of the vampires moving toward Eden again.
Get up, Sloane. Get. Up!
I force myself to my feet, stumbling, and position myself between Eden and the attackers. Every muscle screams in protest. Something’s broken inside me—I can feel it.
“Get behind me,” I shout at Eden.
She stares at me in shock. “You’re human!”
“I don’t care!”
One of the vampires lunges. I try to dodge, but I’m too slow, too mortal, and its claws rake across my side.
I scream out in blinding, searing pain, while blood blooms across my shirt. So much red. So much blood. The claws went deep, tearing through fabric and flesh.
My legs give out when my head begins to feel dizzy.
The vampire that struck me suddenly recoils, a prominent hiss escaping his lips, as he shakes his hand as if my blood burns him. But I don’t understand why. The only thing I do know as I collapse to the floor is that I feel myself fading.
My energy is draining.
This is it.
This is how I die.
Suddenly, strong arms catch me before I hit the floor. Crave. He’s here, covered in blood, his fangs fully descended, his eyes that ancient silver.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, lowering me gently behind an overturned table.
I try to speak, but the pain is overwhelming. My side is on fire, and I feel the warmth of my blood soaking through my clothes, pooling beneath me.
“Eden—” I manage.
“Eden’s fine. You’re not.” He presses his hand to my side, trying to stop the bleeding. His hand comes away covered in bright crimson.
So much blood.
Too much.
The scent of it fills the air. Not normal. Something’s different about it. I see it in the way every supernatural being in the room pauses for half a heartbeat, confusion crossing their faces.
Burning iron.
That’s what it smells like.
I can smell my own blood, and it’s… wrong.
With panting breaths, my vision dims at the edges. The sounds of battle are fading, becoming distant and echo-like.
“Crave?” My voice sounds far away, even to me. “I can’t… I can’t feel my legs.”
His expression shifts to something I’ve never seen before—panic.
“Listen to me,” he says urgently, pulling me closer against his chest. “This is going to hurt. But you have to trust me.”
“What—”
He doesn’t let me finish. His fangs sink into his own wrist, deep and vicious, and dark blood wells up. Not red like mine, darker, and it pulses with power. I feel it even through my fading consciousness.
He presses his bleeding wrist to my mouth. “Drink.”
Panic surges through me.
No.
No, no, no—
But I’m too weak to fight.
His blood spills past my lips, over my tongue, and an urge takes over me. Something inside tells me I need to do this.
I have to do this.
‘You’re home, Sloane. Drink! Become who you’re born to be,’ the womanly voice in my head screams so loud I can’t ignore her this time.
It’s as if tasting his blood ignites an insatiable fire inside my blood, and I can’t help but swallow.
My hands slide up, gripping his wrist, as I clamp down, drinking with a hunger I didn’t know existed.
It tastes of what I imagine darkness and starlight would be, power distilled into something beautiful and terrifying.
The moment it hits my throat, everything changes.
My heartbeat stutters.
It stops.
My head throws back, as I let out a harrowing gasp for breath I can’t catch.
I’m dying.
Oh fuck, this is what death feels like.
The world goes black and silent.
No sound.
No sensation.
Just an endless void.
Then—
THUMP.
My heart restarts, but it’s not the same.
It’s stronger.
Deeper.
Each beat resonates through my entire body, pulsing in my veins.
My eyes fly open, and the world is different.
I can see everything. Every detail is in hyperfocus. The individual threads in Crave’s leather vest. The dust particles floating in the air. The blood, so much blood, and I can see the life in it, as though it’s glowing.
Colors I don’t have names for bloom across my vision. And the pain in my side is fading, replaced by something else—heat, burning heat that spreads from my core outward, following my veins with liquid force.
I gasp, and the sound echoes strangely.
Crave is staring at me, his face inches from mine, his silver eyes wide with something that looks like shock.
Horror.
Awe.
“What…” I try to speak, but my voice sounds different. “What did you do to me?”
The scent of my blood changes. The burning iron smell intensifies, but now there’s something else mixed with it.
Burning everything.
Crave’s arms tighten around me, and I watch his eyes widen even further as he realizes something, as he understands what’s happening.
What I’m becoming.
“Oh fuck,” he whispers.
And then the world goes dark.