Chapter 2
VESSA
My life, my future, everything I prepared for . . . gone. Reduced to nothing.
Wyatt drives through the night and the next morning, tearing across the plains. By sunset, the three of us shack up in a two-bedroom cottage tucked away in the quaint mountains of Jasper Ridge, nestled along the easternmost border to the Heartlands. Not a single neighbor for miles.
For three days, all I do is sob until my eyes swell shut. The fourth, I sleep straight through. When I’m roused on the fifth day, Maurleen sits me down in the cramped bathroom to bathe in lavender oil and apply a deep auburn gloss to my hair.
“It’s imperative that neither your scent nor your appearance is recognized for the time being. We'll be sure to keep plenty of lavender in supply."
“Whose house is this?” I sniffle with a cringe. The tip of my nose is raw and throbbing.
“A friend’s.”
I scrunch my brows. “Yours or the dog’s? How am I supposed to trust you if you’re always so annoyingly cryptic?”
Maurleen chuckles at my insult. “You’ll get answers, honey, I promise. But for right now, I have to give them in small doses.”
“Fuck that,” I bite back, securing the towel under my armpit. With one hand on the door, I throw it open. “Where’s Wyatt?”
Whirling around, she yanks the doorknob towards us, hard enough to rattle the frame. “You won’t get anything out of him, Vessa. Mates are loyal.”
Of course I won’t. She’s got that scruffy werewolf wrapped around her finger. “What do you mean, mates?”
“It means we are soul-bonded,” she elaborates. Maurleen retrieves a hairbrush from the drawer and directs me to sit back down on the toilet lid. For the first time in days, I feel something other than devastation. And so, I oblige her.
She continues, running the paddle through my wet tangles. “Lycan tradition recognizes the Luna goddess as the mythical figure responsible for love matches. For those she favors, she unifies two hearts by bestowing a bond that represents unconditional love and fealty."
Maurleen and Wyatt are an odd pair. But from what little I’ve seen, her partner would do anything to protect her. There’s an undeniable fierceness in every glance they exchange. I’ve never observed anything like it.
After I slip into a clean set of sweats, Maurleen escorts me into the dining room where a leather-bound book and a steaming cup of cinnamon tea await. Along with another woman, whose grey roots flow seamlessly into her ash brown hair.
“Vessa, this is Lyndi. She and I are oracles, part of an ancient clergy of witches known as the Servos Primae Lunari. Upon swearing our sacred oath, we are each tasked with finding and protecting the human bound by the goddess's curse. You.”
Ancient witches. Okay, sure. If I wasn’t so emotionally drained, I would laugh right in her face.
“Like you, we have our own target on our backs.
Oracles are coveted for their secrets, which is why we scatter ourselves across the continents, moving from city to city.
Once a year on the winter solstice, we gather to offer ourselves to our goddess, the First Mother.
The wolves of this realm know her as Luna.
She has whispered to us of your coming for centuries, through visions. "
Tears brim my eyes. This is no longer amusing. I must be dreaming. Hallucinating.
Lyndi’s voice is low and croaky. “Tell me, girl, what do you know about Somnium?”
The foreign name doesn’t compute. Gods, nothing surrounding the circumstances of Mom’s car accident does. “Pardon me?”
“Somnium. The Underworld. The resting place of the damned and the origin of all dark magic.”
I’m not sure what exactly she’s getting at, but what I do know is that if I don’t sit down in the next five seconds, the pressure between my temples is going to implode.
Maurleen pulls out the wooden chair for me. I reach for the steaming mug, plop down, and take a hearty gulp. “I didn’t know that Hell had another name.”
She brings a hand to my shoulder. It’s then that she fully fractures the worldview I’ve been desperately clinging to since I witnessed the slaying of two monsters.
Most humans spend their entire lives blissfully unaware of the three other species that coexist with their kind—witches, vampires, and lycans.
For thousands of years, our world, Terris, has been cloaked by forces of what one would call the supernatural.
Though exceptionally rare, there are anomalies, bloodlines that pass down what Maurleen refers to as "second sight": the ability to see through the metaphysical glamour that allows these humanoid creatures to roam undetected.
Humans with second sight aren't just a liability, they are the ultimate prey. Once they reach maturity, their pheromones mutate, amplifying a unique scent. One that’s impossible to resist. Clearly, one that’s worth killing for.
Lyndi straightens her spine. “What I am about to tell you, you mustn’t repeat to any other soul. Ever. Not unless Maurleen is with you and can shield you from the consequences.”
The temperature of the room plummets. No longer does it feel like I am sitting in a gathering space, but a morgue. Apprehension pricks the back of my neck as Lyndi speaks, revealing her necklace to me. Two silver moons, forming an eye.
"The gods have long had their eyes on you, Vessa.
Thousands of years ago, the queen of Somnium, Clethra, sought to overthrow them all.
She channeled magic to her womb, where a babe took root, nurturing him by feeding him the blood of the damned.
The throne of eternal night would one day pass to her son, the Blood Master.
Upon his ascension, she would take to the heavens to reprimand King Helius for confining her to the Underworld.
“When Clethra’s son became of age, he petitioned his mother to find a bride he could rule alongside.
On a visit to our realm, he fell in love with a human princess, favored by the goddess of lycans.
She conspired with the echelon gods to sabotage their marriage, a necessary sacrifice to stop Clethra's ambitions and to prevent her son from ascending to godhood and unleashing their demonic army on the heavens. "
My brows raise. "What does this have to do with me?"
Maurleen carries on. “Both present and future queen were killed as result, Clethra’s son banished and stripped of his throne, confined to our earthly realm.
Alone. While the other gods called for the Blood Master's death, the lycan goddess took pity on him.
She swore to make amends, bestowing a curse on the princess's surviving bloodline.
The soul of his bride would one day reemerge in the mortal world, only to be known by those who possess the sight of the oracle.
It only took three millennia, but at last, we have found her. "
Who, me? These two are fucking delusional. "This is completely absurd. I mean, what kind of name is 'Blood Master?’"
“That name belongs to a monster who sires demons that feed on the flesh of humans and oracles who devote their lives to concealing your identity,” Lyndi scowls.
“For each oracle he claims, the stronger his next generation of vampires evolves.
But he needs you, Vessa. You aren't just his betrothed.
Your blood will raise the gates of Somnium.
And if he returns, he will ascend as a god.
Believe me when I say that, if we incur his wrath, the realm will not survive. "
I spring out of the chair, the legs groaning against the hardwood floor. “No. No, I refuse to believe a word of this! My mother—” My voice splinters. “My mother would’ve told me if our family was cursed.”
Unless she didn’t know.
Lyndi’s eyes harden, fixating on my silver bracelets.
My face crumples. “I just—” A hiccupping sob cuts me off. “I just want to go home.”
“I know, darlin’,” Maurleen soothes. “But we’ve been over this . . .”
How do they expect me to just accept this rude awakening?
“There may come a day when Maurleen or I fail to keep our oath,” Lyndi continues. “If you want to stay alive, you’ll keep those cuffs on. If there’s one thing you can be sure of, it’s that they’re the only armor you’ve got.”
That conversation stayed with me in the weeks that followed as I slowly immersed myself in the oracles’ intricate web of secrets. Two months later, Lyndi’s warnings would prove correct.
The night we fled Lyndi’s cottage, I hadn't just seen my first vampire. I'd seen an entire swarm of them storming the foothills.
The vision came within an hour of their arrival.
There wasn’t time for Lyndi to explain—she was too busy yelling at Wyatt to ready his guns and stuff the car with our essential belongings.
By sundown, our safe haven had finally been breached.
The oracle’s hands trembled as she clasped the eye dangling from her neck, removed the chain, and hastily strung it along Maurleen's.
"Take her as far away as you can. And this, too. It's yours now."
Maurleen threw her arms around her, eyes glassy. "There's still time. Please. You can come."
“Forget about me.”
In the dark, Wyatt's bullets sprayed in every direction, ricocheting off the trees.
With a shove, Lyndi broke their embrace. "Start the damn car, Maurleen."
Out of the shadows, a vampire catapulted itself, knocking me to the ground.
The way its vile jaws snapped, it could have been rabid.
I screamed when a silver blade was suddenly thrust into its chest. Lyndi pulled me off the grass and all but threw me into the backseat of her hatchback.
Across the lawn, Wyatt pumped his legs, looking over his shoulder every so often to shoot the demons who pursued him.
Another vampire punched through the back window, swiping at me.
I kicked it in the nose, bone crunching with a hiss.
Panting wildly, Wyatt flung open the passenger door and swapped his gun out for a larger barrel.
"Get out of here!" Lyndi belted.
Maurleen stomped on the gas pedal, kicking up dust and gravel.
Wyatt growled at me to keep my head down as he lined up his shot through the busted back window.
But I didn’t listen. Behind Lyndi, a cloaked figure wearing a dark red mask stalked towards her.
Her eyes stayed fixed on Wyatt as we sped down the road.
One last time, he fired and missed, the shot shattering the porch light.
Dread pulsated in my stomach as I watched the figure place a pale hand on Lyndi's shoulder.
Unwavering in courage, it seemed as if she'd been anticipating this moment.
She dropped to her knees, staring up at the mask, which beheld the morbid face of a beetle, exposing a mouth framed by sharp pincers.
Beneath a set of horizontal slits shone bright eyes of citrine.
When he finally cast his gaze upon my window, his head cocked to the side curiously, mouth agape.
A devious smile formed then, revealing a set of curved fangs.
It was him—the Blood Master. The realization stole my breath as we disappeared behind the bend, those sinister eyes forever etched into my darkest fears.