Chapter One
âSUNRISE IS COMING,â BALTHAZAR SAID.
Those were the first words anyone had spoken aloud in hours. Although I didnât want to hear anything Balthazar had to sayâabout this or anything elseâI knew he was right. Vampires could always feel the approaching dawn deep in their bones.
Could Lucas feel it, too?
We sat in the projection room of an abandoned theater, where the poster-covered walls still bore marks from last nightâs battle. Vic, the only human in the room, dozed on Ranulfâs shoulder, his sandy hair mussed from sleep; Ranulf sat quietly, bloodstained ax across his lap as though he expected more danger at any second. His long, thin face and bowl haircut had never made him look more like a medieval saint. Balthazar stood in the far corner of the room, keeping his distance out of respect for my grief. Yet his height and his broad shoulders meant he took up more than his share of room.
I cradled Lucasâs head in my lap. Had I been alive, or a vampire, so many hours without moving would have made me stiff. As a ghost, though, freed of the demands of a physical body, Iâd been able to hold him through the whole long night of his death. I brushed back my long red hair, trying not to notice that the ends had trailed in Lucasâs blood.
Charity had murdered him in front of my eyes, taking advantage of Lucasâs desire to protect me rather than himself. It was her latest and most horrible attempt to hurt me, driven by her hatred for anybody who mattered to Balthazar, her brother and sire. Sheâd violated a vampire taboo by biting someone another vampire had bitten firstâwho had, in effect, been prepared for the transformation from living to undead. Lucas was supposedly mine to turn, or no oneâs. But Charity hadnât cared about any taboos in a long time. She didnât care about anyone or anything except her twisted relationship with Balthazar.
Wherever she was now, she was no doubt reveling in the fact that sheâd broken my heart, and that sheâd thrust Lucas into the very last place he would ever want to be.
Iâd rather be dead, Lucas had always said. When I was alive and so much more innocent, I had dreamed of him becoming a vampire with me. But he had been raised by the hunters of Black Cross, who loathed the undead and pursued them with the passion of a cult. Turning into a vampire had always been his ultimate nightmare.
Now that nightmare had come true.
âHow long?â I said.
âMinutes.â Balthazar took one step forward, saw the expression on my face, and came no closer. âVic should go.â
âWhatâs happening?â Vicâs voice was scratchy with sleep. He pushed himself upright, and his expression shifted from confusion to horror as he looked at Lucasâs body, bloody and pale on the floor. âOh. Iâfor a sec, I thought Iâd just had a nightmare or something. But thisâitâs real.â
Balthazar shook his head. âIâm sorry, Vic, but you need to leave.â
I realized what Balthazar meant. My parents, who had always wanted me to follow in their footsteps, had told me about the first hours of the transition. When Lucas rose as a vampire, he would want fresh bloodâwant it desperately, as much as he could get. In the first frenzy of awakening, his hunger could push every other thought out of his mind.
Heâd be hungry enough to kill.
Vic didnât know any of that. âCome on, Balthazar. Iâve gone this far with you guys. I donât want to leave Lucas now.â
âBalthazar is correct,â Ranulf said. âIt is safer that you leave.â
âWhat do you mean, safer?â
âVic, go,â I said. I hated to push him away, but if he didnât understand what was going on here, he needed a dose of harsh reality. âIf you want to survive, go.â
Vicâs face paled.
More gently, Balthazar added, âThis is no place for the living. This belongs to the dead.â
Vic ran his hands through his shaggy hair, nodded once at Ranulf and walked out of the projection room. Probably he would head home, where heâd try to do something usefulâclean house, maybe, or make food nobody else could eat. Human concerns seemed very distant at that moment.
Now that Vic had left, I could finally voice the thought that had been haunting me for hours. âShould weââ My throat choked up, and I had to swallow hard. âShould we let this happen?â
âYou mean that you believe we should destroy Lucas.â From anybody else, this would have sounded too harsh to bear; from Ranulf, it was simple, calm fact. âThat we should prevent him from rising as a vampire, and accept this as his final death.â
âI donât want to do that. I canât begin to tell you how much I donât want that,â I answered. Every word I spoke felt like blood being squeezed from my heart. âBut I know itâs what Lucas would want.â Didnât loving someone mean putting their wishes first, even with something as terrible as this?