Dark Promise Read online

  I was careless. Hunting without a plan is never wise, but by now, Jasik is used to my recklessness in battle. I think with my heart, running steadfast into the dangerous unknown. My carelessness has gotten worse since I transitioned into a vampire, but I have yet to die. So I must be doing something right.

  I trudge through the snow, the piles quickly reaching the top of my boots. My jeans are tucked into them, preventing the crystallized water from icing my already-cold skin.

  My T-shirt is wet from being pelted by the snow, so I zip up my jacket. My heart sinks, mind numb to the realization. Normally, I wouldn’t ever do this. My jacket’s inner pocket is where I kept my stake. I needed it to be one quick swipe away from killing a vampire, and having to unzip my jacket would take far too much time.

  But I don’t have to worry about that anymore. Mamá stole the weapon Papá gave me, and I doubt she’ll ever return it. For my remaining years as a hunter of rogue vampires, I will fight with someone else’s weapon. I feel like I betrayed my stake by being so careless with it. Regardless of what happened that night, I shouldn’t have been so distracted that I left it behind.

  I hear something behind me, and I spin around to face my attacker—except I’m alone. No one is there. Again, I hear a noise, and I spin to face it. Over and over again, I spin, certain I will come face-to-face with the rogue who occupies these woods.

  Spinning ’round and ’round, I’m lost. The world is blinding white. I can’t see anything but the constant assault of snowflakes peppering my face. My skin is slick—from nerves or the snow or both, I’m not sure—and I push back hair that clings to my moist forehead.

  I fall to my knees. My heart is racing, my thoughts jumbled. My chest heaves and burns as I struggle to sift through the endless landscape before me. Hacking, I take in too much air. My overstretched lungs ache. I feel myself on the verge of a panic attack, so I try to calm myself, ignoring the danger lurking behind the sheets of snow encasing me. I may not be alone, but I certainly feel alone.

  “You’re fine, Ava,” I whisper.

  The back of my neck feels hot and sticky. I swipe my hand over the skin, rubbing my cold fingers against burning flesh to cool down. I scoop a pile of snow and press it to my neck. This works far better than my sleek, icy fingers.

  My mouth is dry. I try to lick my lips, but my tongue sticks to the chapped skin. On my hands and knees, I stare at the ground. The snow is growing deeper with each passing second. My arms sink into its depths, and my wrists are no longer visible. Unable to see the ground or my own two hands, I feel as though I’ve been swallowed whole. I’m in the belly of the beast, and as I look around, I see no way out.

  “You’re going to be okay,” I say.

  This time, I speak more forcibly, and I catch the attention of the rogue. This time, I know I hear his approach. The earth shakes as he charges toward me. The echo of crushed snow is carried to my ears by the dry, lifeless air.

  I feel his eyes burning into the back of my head, and I shoot to my feet and turn to face him.

  We collide. The force of his body thrust against mine sends me falling backward. I sink into the snow, my head thrashing against the frozen ground. Stars dance behind my eyes when I make impact with the tundra.

  Sweat drips into my eyes, and they sting. I blink away the salty fluid and stare up at him. His empty crimson irises shine brightly above me, a jarring contrast to the blinding white abyss we’re inhabiting. We’re secluded in a vortex, torn from the rest of the world.

  The rogue smiles at me, his teeth almost as bright and white as the snowy prison we’re trapped in.

  He says something, but I don’t hear him. I’m distracted by the howling wind that sends freshly planted snow up from the ground to cover my face. I shake it away, but more trickles back. It coats me, and I’m overwhelmed by the eerie sensation of being buried alive. Frozen in place, I’m queasy as the rogue smiles down at me as if he can read my thoughts.

  The rogue says something again. My face must betray my inability to understand him, because his eyes are amused with me.

  He digs his fingers into my arms, pinning me in place. I wince as he bruises my flesh, but he does not draw blood. He’s holding back… Why?

  “You aren’t my first,” the rogue says loudly. The roar of the storm ceases long enough for me to hear his confession.

  I hear him, but I still don’t understand his words. His first what? Victim? Vampire kill?

  Believing he’s stalling as some sort of torture technique, I struggle against him. He budges slightly, but his strength barely wavers. I can’t pull my arms free. I wiggle my wrists, digging my fingers into the compacted earth. Frozen snow digs under my fingernails, and I squirm at having something so cold in a place never meant to be bared. My skin is sensitive to the assault, and an itchy sensation rises up my arm, settling in my chest.

  I groan and grumble, howl and bellow, hoping Jasik will hear the attack. I shriek for him, but I’m silenced when the rogue speaks again.

  “And you make three,” the rogue says. He emphasizes each word, pausing briefly after each breath.

  Suddenly, he’s lowering himself onto me. Fangs bared and saliva dripping onto my jacket, he slumps down as he pierces my neck. I screech at the impact of his fangs tearing through my flesh.

  I jerk from side to side, hoping to whack him with my skull or jab him with my shoulder. Almost as soon as it began, it’s over, and the rogue is off me.

  I scramble to my feet, clutching my wound. Already, my skin begins to heal. The snow at my feet is stained with crimson, a jolting revelation of just how much blood I lost. I stumble as I stand, woozy from moving too quickly after a harrowing attack.

  A screech pierces the silent night. It takes several blinks for me to realize the sound is coming from the rogue. He’s screaming, clutching his throat. I glance around for Jasik, but my enemy and I are alone. If Jasik didn’t pull this beast off me, then how was I freed?

  I see it as my attacker moves, thrashing about. The pain must be unbearable. With balled fists, the rogue slams his hands into the earth—once, twice, three times. He bellows with agony and tears at his chest, shredding his shirt. His skin is bared to me, and I cringe at the sight.

  Our gazes meet briefly; his eyes betray not only his agony but also his confusion. He’s just as lost as I am.

  “Wh-What have y-you done to me?” the rogue stutters behind a clenched jaw.

  I trudge toward him, pushing through the snow to reach his side. My chest is heaving as my nerves begin to settle. My wound has healed, the blood at my neck slowly freezing. Later, it will be caked to my skin, and I’ll have to scratch it off in the shower.

  I lower the zipper of my jacket only an inch or so and let my cross drop freely. In our struggle, it must have poked through enough to touch the rogue, because his skin is tainted by burns. Cratering into his flesh, the cross branded him deeply.

  What’s more shocking than this rogue vampire cowering before me as he clutches his wounded throat is his eyes. He is not surprised by the revelation that I, a vampire, can touch a cross. I hold it in my hand, running my stiff fingers over the cool, silver metal. When I tuck it back inside my jacket, I make sure to place it beneath my T-shirt so the rogue can see it’s gracing my skin. Still, his eyes do not waver.

  I drop to my knees beside him. He cringes, grunting fiercely as something eats away at his tissue. The cross affected Jasik too, but not like this. This wound spreads, viciously tearing through the rogue’s skin. It’s as if the cross knows true evil, and it’s banishing this demon straight to hell.

  “What did you mean?” I say from my knees beside him. I don’t fear for my safety. He can barely contain his own pain; he doesn’t have the strength to inflict more on me.

  He howls as his wound deepens. Soon, I’ll see bone. If I want answers, I need to act fast.

  “You said I make three. What does that mean?”

  Someone approaches, and I jerk my head to find Jasik approaching. Coated in w
hite, he races to my side, sliding to his knees and withdrawing his dagger. Just as he plunges it toward his victim, I grab on to his wrist, stopping Jasik from killing the rogue. Confusion flashes in his eyes, but he withdraws his weapon.

  “You’re okay?” Jasik asks. He fingers my jawline before brushing hair from my eyes. His gaze drops to my neck, and he freezes. Anger flashes behind his crimson irises, and I know I have only seconds to convince him to let the rogue live—for now.

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  I return my attention to the rogue vampire, hoping Jasik will understand why I stopped him, why I need the rogue to respond.

  “Answer me,” I order.

  The rogue grumbles under his breath, an inaudible confession that flares my frustration to life. He’s wasting time, and unfortunately, time is a luxury he no longer has. If he won’t willingly explain himself, I will force him to. With only moments before his inevitable demise, I make a rash decision.

  In a swift motion, I pull the dagger from Jasik’s hand and plunge it into the rogue’s chest. I miss his heart—intentionally.

  “Either you can make this harder than it needs to be, or I can make your pain go away,” I say. “Your choice.”

  “Ava,” Jasik says, his voice soft but pointed. He places his hand over mine, and I dare a peek at him. Before his eyes become unreadable, I see the flash of disgust in them. “We don’t torture rogues. That would make us no better than them.”

  I understand what he’s saying, and he’s right. We fight to rid the world of evil, and if we resorted to torturing rogues for information, we would be no better than the monsters we slay. In my heart and even in my mind, I know this to be true, but my mouth and my hand have their own plans. I’m simply a bystander in their crusade. I face the rogue, ignoring Jasik’s plea.

  “I said, what did you mean?” I twist the knife in his chest, nicking bone. The rogue cries out and hacks up blood. I’ve just shortened his life by several more minutes.

  “You’re not the only one,” the rogue shouts. “I’ve fought others like you.”

  Jasik’s breath hitches, and I don’t miss it. His shock fuels my desire to know more, to learn the truth once and for all.

  “What do you mean, there are more? More what?” I’m shouting, my voice screechy. With sloppy hair frozen to my forehead and disheveled clothes, I’m sure I look like a crazy person right now. I imagine my eyes are wide and hungry, betraying my own inner demons.

  “Half-breeds,” the rogue whispers. He squeezes his eyes shut as tiny red lines spider-web from the center of his wound through his torso. I bet he hasn’t been this close to death since the day he transitioned.

  “You’ve met more witches who were turned?” I clarify. “How many? Where? Who? Did you kill them?”

  A million questions are racing through my mind, but the rogue doesn’t answer any of them, because in one swift motion, Jasik reclaims his dagger and plunges it into the vampire’s heart.

  I scream as the rogue combusts. The pristine snow is stained gray, tainted by his ash. In a second that passes far too quickly, the rogue is gone—and so are my answers.

  I stare at my sire, my mouth wide with shock, with disdain, with fear. Jasik offered this rogue far greater leniency than he ever deserved. This monster never knew or showed such compassion, and now I’ll never know the truth.

  Once again, I’m left in the dark, but this time, I’m forced into seclusion by my own savior.

  By the time we return to the manor, the silence between us is deafening. Not only have I refused to speak with Jasik, but he also hasn’t even tried to look at me.

  Lost in thought, I kick off my boots as I enter the foyer. Jasik slams the door behind us, jolting several nearby vampires. They retreat from the ensuing fury by taking the stairs in the sitting room to the second story.

  It’s unnaturally hot in the manor, and the snow at my feet is beginning to melt. I try to soak up the pooled water with my sock, only succeeding in swishing around what my sock can’t absorb. Now a sopping mess, my socks cling to my feet and squish between my toes. I grimace. There are few things more uncomfortable than wearing wet socks.

  “Everything okay?” Malik says. I look up from my feet to see him approaching. He’s wearing lounge jogger pants and is holding a book. He snaps it closed when he sees our faces and sets it on a nearby bookshelf. It looks just as out of place as I feel.

  “Gather everyone. We need to talk,” Jasik says. He pushes past his brother, leaving me behind as he enters the parlor and plops onto a chair directly to the right of the fireplace.

  While we were out, someone started a fire, and a pile of logs is stacked in the corner of the room. The earthy musk of freshly chopped wood is overwhelming, but not as much as the sounds, smell, and heat coming from the fireplace. The second I step into the room, I’m struck by a heat wave so fierce, it steals the breath from my chest.

  It doesn’t take long for the other hunters to meet us in the parlor. Even Holland joins us. I smile at Jeremiah’s ex-boyfriend. In a room full of worried vampires, Holland is the only friendly face. I wonder if the fact that he’s a witch affects my judgment. After all, the vampires seem to think I’m blinded by those deemed magical.

  “What happened?” Hikari asks the moment she enters the room, Jeremiah trailing behind her. She finds her way to an open seat and plops down, all the while staring at me. She’s waiting for me to break, but Jasik called this meeting. I’ll let him speak first.

  “Is it the witches?” Jeremiah asks. I watch as Holland physically winces. His ex has such disdain for everything he is, and that breaks my heart.

  “No,” Jasik says simply.

  “Then what is it?” Amicia asks.

  Our leader enters the room, eyes narrowed. I don’t have to be a mind reader to know she believes I told Jasik about the blood oath. My throat tightens as she approaches me. Of all the empty seats, she chooses to sit directly beside me. We share a couch far too small for two people, and our bodies touch. Once again, being this close to her sends a shudder through me. It makes me physically ache to be near her, and I don’t know if it’s because she’s threateningly powerful or because of what she made me do.

  “We encountered a rogue,” Jasik explains.

  Amicia straightens, her interest piqued. Now that she understands I didn’t break her trust, the tension in my shoulders loosens, and I sit back against the couch. I can breathe again.

  “From the same nest?” Amicia asks.

  I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I’ve never seen him before.”

  “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t part of that nest,” Malik counters.

  “Your former coven hasn’t met everyone from ours,” Hikari explains. “That doesn’t mean there aren’t more besides us.”

  “But this was different,” I say. “He wasn’t holding a grudge like the others. I’m not sure he even knows there was a rogue nest in Darkhaven.”

  “He was there for you, Ava,” Jasik says.

  I’m not sure how to take this. Is he agreeing with the others? Is he siding with me? If Jasik believes the rogue was there for me, then he must also believe that there are more creatures like me out there somewhere, just like the rogue said. After all, that’s why he came—to see me, to find me. But in the woods, Jasik was sure he was lying. What changed?

  When I finally break eye contact with my sire, I glance around the room. It’s eerily silent, all eyes on me. I choke on my breath and cough to clear my throat.

  “Not in the same way,” I say softly.

  “What’s going on?” Jeremiah says, eyeing us curiously.

  I’m not surprised we seem…off. Jasik and I can usually morph into the same being in times of duress. We’re usually so in sync with each other, but lately…things have been different between us. Every time we take a step forward, something happens to bring us to a screeching halt, or worse—to force us back several paces.

  “The rogue told Ava she isn’t the only hybrid he’s met,�
� Jasik says plainly.

  The room erupts in gasps, and I frown at Jasik. Why is he so bothered by this? He’s been acting strange ever since he killed the rogue. He seems…angry. Is he mad at me because of how I acted, or is he upset with the rogue for telling me the truth?

  “You can’t possibly believe him,” Amicia says.

  I arch a brow as I tear my gaze from Jasik. “Of course I believe him.”

  “Ava, this does seem…weird,” Hikari says.

  “It’s been months. Don’t you think we would have heard about other half-breeds by now?” Jeremiah cuts in.

  “He was lying to you,” Jasik says. His eyes are emotionless, and it shakes me to my core. Jasik has never been so matter-of-fact.

  “Why? What’s the point? He was already dead,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. How am I the only one who believes him? I glance at Holland, who seems lost in thought. He doesn’t meet my gaze. I wonder if he knows anything. After all, he is a witch.

  “Maybe he was trying to distract you or something?” Jeremiah adds.

  “That wouldn’t surprise me,” Malik agrees. “Rogues are notoriously untrustworthy.”

  “No, it didn’t happen that way. He was too far gone. I used my cross necklace to get away, and it…” I trail off. How can I explain what it did? These vampires know the damage a cross inflicts, but have they ever seen it used against a rogue? It was nothing like what happened to Jasik. It was brutal.

  “It burned him.” Malik tries to finish my sentence for me, but burn isn’t the proper word for what my cross did to that rogue vampire.

  I shake my head. “It incinerated his skin. It branded him so viciously, it actually spread. In the end, tiny red veins flushed through his chest like spider webs. It didn’t just mark him; it tortured him. It’s almost as if the cross could sense how evil and soulless a creature he was, and it inflicted worse damage because of it.”