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“No!” I holler just as Rose lets out an ear-piercing scream and the demon begins to pull at her, muscles flexing, claws digging and—
A lightning bolt comes out of the clouds in a jagged white-hot line and strikes the both of them, appearing to eviscerate them in a cloud of black smoke.
“Rose!” I scream and start running toward them, expecting the worst.
The smoke is thick, filling my lungs, and I can’t see a thing, even the snow seems unable to penetrate it.
Then it becomes transparent, just enough that I see a flash of red and, fuck, dear god let that not be blood. Let Rose be alive.
The smoke starts to clear and with relief I see the red is actually her hair and as the tendrils lift, I’m staring at Rose.
She’s on her knees, her head down and her hair flowing forward, most of her clothes blasted away by the lightning, leaving only singed scraps behind that flutter on her body. Behind her is the demon.
Or what is left of the demon. Just a pile of charcoal and ash until the wind blows that away too.
It’s gone.
I can’t believe it.
The demon is fuckinggone.
“Rose,” I whisper in shock and then drop to my knees beside her, placing my fingers under her chin and lifting it up. Her hair falls around her face and she opens her eyes, her beautiful green eyes that remind me of buds in the spring, and she looks right at me, and I can feel her in my soul.
“What happened?” she rasps. She’s shaking slightly and I reach out with my other hand and push her hair back behind her ears.
“You destroyed it,” I tell her, gripping her shoulders now. “You did what I could never do. You destroyed the demon.”
She stares at me, bewildered. “I did?”
“The lightning. Did you do it on purpose that time?”
Her swallow is audible in the storm. She nods. “I did. I figured I had one last chance. I just asked and then there was noise and heat and I felt like I was on fire.” She looks over her shoulder at the ashes. “It killed it. But it didn’t kill me.”
She seems so confused, so surprised by her power, that it only solidifies what I thought. That she wasn’t born a witch.
“You’re new to this,” I say, “aren’t you? To being a witch in a vampire’s body.”
Her tongue darts out to lick her lips and it never fails to surprise me at how fast my thoughts with her turn sexual at the most inappropriate times. “I swear to you, I haven’t had any sort of powers or magical ability my whole life,” she tells me. “This only started the day that I turned. The day that I got my memories back.”
“So you remembered Dahlia and somehow your subconscious remembered her magic as well,” I muse. I don’t like saying Dahlia’s name for fear that I’ll remember her, but now that she’s right in front of me, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.
“Maybe my subconscious remembers, maybe my body does, but when I was Dahlia, I didn’t have this sort of power either. This is next level shit. This is the stuff that…” she trails off and looks away, her face looking pained.
“The stuff that what?”
She frowns as she looks at me. “I know you don’t remember me or us, but do you remember who Bellamy is?”
“Head of the witch’s guild,” I say. “At least he was. He operates his own sect now. They’ve found a way to become immortal,” I add bitterly.
She grimaces, her lips curling. “Yeah, I’ve heard. Do you know how a bunch of witches managed that?”
I can’t tell if she already knows or she’s asking. “There are rumors,” I say carefully.
“Of what?”
“That a baby vampire was taken. Experimented on. That they were able to use that vampire’s blood and isolate the genes it had, use it to make themselves immortal.”
Tears well in her eyes, her lower lip trembling, and I’m about to wonder what I said when she suddenly gets to her feet. “That baby was my brother.”
