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18
ASHTON
I wake up with a cold feeling of dread twisting my stomach. I’m curled up in my bed and the stench of sweat and old blood brings bile to my throat.
A girl was here but I can’t make head or letters of her visit. She put her hands on me, cruel hands, and turned me inside out, silencing my howling with magic, drinking up the last of my energy, twisting my magic until I thought I’d shift again—only there isn’t enough magic left in me for that right now.
And then she returned, sweet and kind, telling me to hold on, asking if I was treated well. Fucking with my mind.
I’m so damn thirsty. Rolling off the bed only sends me to the floor, the breath knocked out of me. Need water. And to get out of here. Before she comes back.
My brother. I remember that my brother is in the hospital. Why? There my memory fails me, but I remember her telling me that my brother is dead, and I… I can’t accept it.
Not unless I see his body.
Unless I hold it in my arms.
Call me Doubting Thomas. I never was a believer, but now I have belief in a girl, belief that comes and goes like the tides. She is our savior, our Queen, but she’s also a tormentor. Do we have to give it all up to be saved? Die to be reborn? I know I did evil things. Killed a person, even if I don’t remember it.
Memory is a fickle thing. My family says I did it, and I believe them. Why do I? Maybe because I know I’m lost already. So much hinges on belief…
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I feel weak like a fucking newborn kitten. Grabbing the headboard, I haul myself to my feet and weave my way to the bathroom. I drink water straight from the tap, then take a much-needed piss and feel vaguely more human.
As human as a vampire can feel.
I need blood. My eyes in the mirror are streaked with red. My gums are pulled back, my canines slightly longer. I brace my hands on the sink and just stare at myself. Fucking hell, I look like a ghost, skin dry and white, veins showing underneath, my cheeks sunken. I look dead.
What is happening to me? Why can’t I remember how I’ve spent the past couple of weeks? Sure, there are some faint memories from class and then…
… loping under the trees, my vision sharp like glass, the smells like a map to the world, a sense of urgency…
I jerk back. What in the ever-loving fuck. I shifted?
Why? Was it a surge?
Ophelia, I think. And Mia. Two sides to a coin.
Well, Ophelia isn’t here right now and I can almost think, almost, so it’s my best chance of finding out what is going on.
I turn and stumble to the door, turn the handle—and find the door locked. I press my forehead to it. Take a breath.
“Open this door!” I snarl. “Right the hell now.”
When it slides open, I almost fall on the other side. An unfamiliar demon is looking back at me, eyes wide. “Ashton. You’re up.”
“Mostly,” I inform him, leaning heavily on the doorframe. “The door was locked.”
“She said not to let anyone in.”
“She said. Ophelia, I assume?”
He nods.
I cock my head at him. “How about letting me out?”
“She didn’t say anything about that.”
“Good. Then I’m going. I need to talk to her.”
