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“And you’re here because—”
“I want to side with you. To fight with you. And in return…”
“You want protection from your mother,” I finish, picking up exactly where she’s headed.
She nods. “Please. I can’t do it. I can’t become one of them.” Tears stream down her cheeks. “They’re monsters. The things they do… My mother is going to force it on me. She’s going to make me go through with it.”
My heart aches for this girl, for the pain radiating off of her. To be born as something, to be raised around it, and still choose to follow a different path—that’s strength. “What’s your name?”
“Bellamy. But my friends, they just call me Bella.”
“You already know our names, I’m guessing?”
She nods. “Bronywyn Walsh—witch, and Shay Tarnley—vampire.”
“Just Tarnley,” he replies, instantly. “You’ve explained this to her? Your mother?”
The girl nods, frantically. “Over and over again, and she told me that either I go through the change myself within the next three weeks or she’ll tie me down and make me go through it.”
Glass shatters. I glance over to where Tarnley was standing and see the blood-coated shards of what was once a cup covering the floor. “She would have you raped?”
“To her, it’s not rape,” Bella replies. “But to me—I just don’t want any part of it. I can help you. I know people—other supernaturals—who are willing to step in, too.”
“How many?”
“Nearly fifty that we know of. They are supernaturals who have broken The Accords with their way of life—not because they are harming humans—and they are afraid the council will have them executed, too.
“There’s a whole social media group of us, though we keep it really strict and it’s by invite only.”
“I’m sorry, you have a social media group specifically for rogue supernaturals?”
The girl nods at Tarnley. “It’s brand new and growing every single day.”
“You said our faces are all over the supernatural council’s announcements, so why come here?”
“According to what I’ve studied, the council has a history of forcing succubae to complete their changes, even if they didn’t want to go through with it. It’s a bit of a lore within our world. They are as much my enemy as my mother and the rest of our den is. Since you are enemies of theirs, that makes us friends.”
“Friends.”
“Yes.” She swallows hard.
“You do realize joining our side comes with dangers of its own, right? You will not only be the target of your own kind, but an enemy to the council, as well. You may not survive what’s coming.”
Her dark eyes level on me, and in them, I see wisdom well beyond her seventeen years. “Better to die as what I am than to live as what I hate.”
