Page 34 of Before We Burn

“Why’d you stop drinking from humans?”

“Do you ever get tired of death?” The question hits me hard in the chest. I’ve seen death, even caused it, but the first time I'd ever been tired of it was when I attacked that school.

“Yes,” I answer, quietly.

She nods. “Death was who I was. Not who I want to be. I was an assassin—a very good one—and everyone, even the humans, were afraid of me. UV bullets never seemed to slow me, sunbombs would burn me but never stop me, and I never left loose ends.” She looks at me, lost in the story, but I can’t help but ask.

“So, why stop?”

She sighs. “I wanted to be happy. I thought the school would give me a new purpose—a new legacy. No longer Marzana, the monster in the dark, but something better. I wanted people to see that school and see me. See I was capable of more than just violence and death. But now, looking at the state of the world and what they have done to my friends, it seems I’m going to start drinking from humans again.” She stands up, and her sad eyes meet mine before she walks away, not waiting for my response.

I sit there for a moment, wondering where the fuck I went wrong. I rub my face and groan. I’m going to be with this group for a while, and if I can’t manage a simple conversation, I doubt this will be the last awkward interaction.

I’m about to get up when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. I reach for my weapon, only to be met with an empty holster.

“Fuck!” I shout as Constantine appears, her arms crossed against her chest, her face set in a deep scowl with her eyes narrowed at me.

I fix my face to seem unfazed, but I know she can hear the way my heart pounds.

“Marz is a good person. I’m not. Hurt her and I’ll turn you into my personal blood bank, making sure you never know happiness again. Do you understand?”

Constantine is petrifying. Her skin is so pale her veins show prominently through her skin. The skin around her eyes is completely black, and her usually russet-colored irises shine red while the whites turn pitch black.

“Understood,” I say quietly, fear firmly in my voice.

She walks out of the room, and I relax into the couch.

What did I get myself into?

14

TWO BIRDS, ONE STONE

MARZANA

I’m restless. I’m lost and can’t get myself to breathe for a moment. Seeing Sahara’s body hung on the wall like a trophy sat with me in the most tormented way. I wouldn’t have considered us friends—we never really spoke outside of work, and I never got to know her on a personal level—but I knew she woke up in the Sahara Desert 271 years ago. We shared the same morals, the same code. She wanted to help everyone, regardless of their species—vampire, human, or witch. She believed the idea of power was man made, that we could all live harmoniously regardless of one being stronger than the other.

At first I thought she was crazy, that a vampire with that much hope was a punchline to a joke. She was serious, though. Everything she said she instilled in her life.

I stand in front of the fireplace. Everett is asleep on the couch, his mind wandering into memories of his childhood. I don’t know if they’re real or fabricated, but he was happy, and it’s nice to think he has somewhere to escape to.

I look at the spot where my…colleague was, my eyes watering, and I quickly pull my gaze away before I lose myself to grief.

I look directly to the couch again, but a pair of glowing copper eyes catch my attention. I instantly go on defense, but the smell in the air is familiar. The figure steps out of the shadows, and Bunny stands there as innocent as the day I left her.

I gasp. “Bunny?”

I step forward and she looks down to Everett, taking a step closer to him as her face shifts slightly. I raise my hand to stop her, worried she might kill him and I would have to live with that guilt, too.

“We need his friend,” Bunny says, gently.

My brows furrow, and I try to recall anyone that would be important to Everett. Then I remember the friend he talked about.

“Benny?” I ask, confused. “Why?” Constantine appears out of nowhere, her eyes wide on Bunny.

Bunny shrugs, her gaze moving from me to Constantine, a large smile on her small face. “Constantine, the seductress.” Bunny’s voice comes out in a hiss.

Constantine straightens her shoulders, and a sly smile creeps onto her face. She likes any type of flattery that makes her feel known. That means people have been whispering.