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As if she doesn’t want to fight.
As if she expects to die.
Her hands drop away and she’s staring up at me.
Go ahead,Val, she projects into my head.Do it. Rip my head right off.
I blink at her, my fingers loosening slightly. Rip her head off? That’s a little extreme.
And that’s when I realize she’s not using parlor tricks to get into my head. She’s just thinking. Because she’s a vampire. And that’s why no matter how hard I squeeze, she’s still breathing, her chest rising and falling, and when I look down I see an ugly fresh wound near her heart with faint lines radiating outward. Like she had been stabbed with the blade ofmordernes.
I quickly remove my hands and straighten up, rocking back on my heels.
“You’re a vampire,” I whisper.
I blink at her and it’s all coming together, at least a little bit. I don’t know who she is, but I know I have the taste of erasure in my mouth, and there’s a woman here that knows my name and seems to be both a witchanda vampire. I breathe in deeply and I’m getting both scents, one of power and magic, and the other of ancient blood. It reminds me of Lenore.
“I’m sorry,” I quickly say, getting to my feet. “I…”
I look around. I’m standing on a massive balcony that juts out over a crowded city, a river flowing nearby. Then I realize it’s not a river and I’ve been here before. We’re in Istanbul.
Why am I here?I think, looking around frantically for the proof of what I’ve done. I spot the empty vial on the ground and go over, picking it up. So much power in such a little thing.
Why did I do this? Again? Why is it so hard to remember anything?
“Who are you?” I ask hoarsely, turning to face the girl again.
The girl slowly sits up, rubbing at her throat. Red hair spills over her shoulders, beautiful red hair the color of autumn leaves and sunsets. Now that I’m able to get a better, calmer look at her, I realize she’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.
She fixes her eyes on me and I’m immediately pulled into their depths, my heart skipping a beat, and I immediately know why I don’t know her. I know why I chose to erase her.
Because how could I not have been in love with her?
And from the way she’s looking at me, absolutely broken, like she just watched a loved one die, I realize that she’s in love with me.
“What have I done?” I ask.
“What you do best,” she says quietly, getting to her feet. “But if you want a real explanation…”
She walks a little off-balance through the French doors and into a hotel room.
I follow, enraptured in a mystery of my own doing.
She stops by a desk and tightens up her robe, then hands me a pad of hotel stationary and then quickly steps back, as if needing to keep a safe distance from me. I don’t blame her.
I briefly eye the book on the desk, a sense of relief at the sight of it, then proceed to read the notepad.
It’s in my handwriting, a letter addressed to me, perhaps only written moments ago.
It explains most things. Where I am and why I’m here. And a little bit about the reason I took the potion. The reason for the spell.
“Rose Harper?” I ask her, looking up from the paper. “That’s your name?”
Her face contorts, her jaw quivering but she nods. “Yes.”
“But you’re not dead,” I say. “In the past, when I erased…someone else, it was because she had died. You’re alive.”
She lets out a sad laugh, looking at the floor. “Yeah, well, I suppose this time you wanted to do it before it got that far along.” She sniffles and wipes away a tear with her fingers. “And once again I’m here to sift through the pieces of what we could have had.”
