I look directly at her eyes and sit upright, keeping my head up, my shoulders straight, my back strong. I want her to know I am not scared of her or this prison. I feign confidence because I know my strength worries her. She considered me an abomination, because as a hybrid, I experienced true power. And I will get it back.
I never wanted to be a vampire, but now I cannot imagine my life without fangs or blood lust. I am engulfed in sunlight, yet I search for the shadows, always aware that I seek what I can no longer have. I am no longer a vampire, but I am not exactly a witch either. My situation is so similar to my transition as a hybrid, yet it is so different. I have never felt so alone.
My heart races in my chest, and for once, I am relieved to know Will does not have the heightened senses needed to hear it. I do not want him to worry about me or to fear for his life. We only have to survive until sundown. In the meantime, I can handle Mamá’s wrath, but in his state, he cannot.
Mamá glances at Will and narrows her eyes. Her hatred for him, even though he is no longer a hybrid, is undeniable. It screams from her, penetrating the room in waves of contempt.
When her anger slaps me in the face, I feel it so deeply within my own soul, I am unsure if this hate stems from her or me. Mamá manipulates my emotions so easily, without even trying, and I fear what she will do when she realizes the power she holds over me.
I am so busy looking at Mamá, I do not see our other visitor enter the basement until she has already set her sights on me. The stairs squeak, announcing her presence, and I tear my gaze from my mother.
Abuela rounds the stairs, and with her gaze glued to mine, she strides toward me. Everything about her appearance is unsettling. Her gray hair is pulled back into a perfect bun, and her clothes are fresh and ironed. Her skin is wrinkled, her eyes dark, but she looks well rested. Nothing about her shows signs of unease. It is as if she has not tapped into the black arts as a form of discipline. From the way she carries herself, she is not even slightly worried about the repercussions of her actions.
When Abuela reaches Mamá’s side, she glances at Will.
“¿Sigues vivo?” my grandmother asks. Her voice is emotionless, but a slight smile creases her cheeks. She is pleased he has survived the evening, and I fear her plans for him today.
Endless streams of magical torture loop in my mind. Visions of it dance before my eyes, and I suck in a sharp breath. It is loud enough for both captors to look at me and smile. They are pleased with my fear, and they have every intention of using it to control me.
Will does not answer Abuela, nor does he look up. He remains slouched beside me, staring at the ground. Never cemented or covered with wood planks, the floors consist of dirt, now compacted over the years of providing a safe haven when violence erupted outside these walls and I was too young to aid my allies, and it does not keep out the chill. A shudder works its way through my body, and I wrap my arms around my chest to keep myself from shivering. Everything about this house feels cold—from the people to the lifeless furnishings. Mamá’s house does not scream welcome. It says keep out. Stay away. Go home. If only I could.
“I see you have found your friend,” Abuela says. I know she only speaks English as a courtesy to Will. She wants him to hear, and understand, every word she speaks.
I nod, deciding to remain silent because I fear angering her so early in the day. Thankfully, it is the winter season, which sees the shortest days, but I still have hours before nightfall, before the vampires enact the rest of Malik’s plan.
“Are you surprised he is still alive?” my grandmother asks.
I shake my head and mumble.
“Speak loudly, child,” Abuela says.
A quick burst of air rushes toward me, forcing up my chin. I gasp at its ferocity, shaken my mother would call upon her magic so quickly. She uses it against me with complete apathy, interested in only dominating me.
As one of the only remaining spirit users in this coven, Mamá handles the elements with experienced ease, and she wants me to know she will use them against me if I do not show respect and obey orders.
“I said,” I begin, grinding my teeth as I speak, “I am not surprised he is alive. He is a witch.” I know this will upset her, but I can no longer bite my tongue.
Abuela narrows her eyes, brow creasing. She is annoyed I would point out the obvious, but at the same time, I am certain she expected my reaction. Witches do not harm other witches. They live by an unwritten code to maintain the peace. This is also why Mamá has found so many eager witches willing to help her hunt her own daughter.
While I am surprised they are agreeing to hunt me, I am not shocked by their treatment of Will. I know they do not see him as a witch, as one of them, even though their spell has ensured this. He may be severed from his vampire half, but he is still a hybrid in their eyes. He can do nothing to change their minds or to redeem earlier actions. He will forever be the enemy, regardless if he deserves such status.
I imagine that is why he has been treated so poorly. Not only do they hate him for what he is, but they also are using him to test my limits. What happens when they use magic against a former hybrid? How much can Will and I withstand before we break? They will find their answers by harming him, not me. Not until I deserve punishment. Unfortunately, Will cannot handle any more of their tests.
“What was your plan when you found him?” Abuela asks. “Were you planning to escape?”
I do not look at them, and I do not respond. They do not need me to admit my intention. They know I will escape the moment I am given the opportunity to do so, regardless of any plan set by Malik. I am supposed to wait for him, for them, but if I find another door, I will walk through it in order to save us.
I wonder if Mamá planned for this encounter. Why else would she have not spelled me to my room like she has done so many other times I have upset her? She could have easily prevented an escape, but she did not even try to keep me in line. Already, I have failed a test.
Now, she is certain where my loyalties lie—and they are not with her, this coven, or these unfamiliar witches. I am loyal to the vampires, to those who deserve my trust and respect. They are my family now, not Mamá or Abuela or anyone else.
“¡Respóndeme!” Abuela shouts, and I wince at her scream as if her words could actually lash me. Her voice echoes in this small space, bouncing off the stone walls, amplifying her presence as I cower on the ground, fearing I will see the worst of her.
“No!” I yell, knowing she will not believe my answer. It does not matter what I say or what I do. My grandmother will make an example of this moment.
“Mentirosa,” Abuela says.
I shake my head and whisper, “I am not lying.”
Again, I lie. I lie to save myself from her torture, even though I know that to be a worthless cause. My grandmother has planned every moment of this day. She returned from her trip to find her coven in shambles. Mamá was supposed to protect us in my grandmother’s absence; she was supposed to take care of my unfortunate situation, because I was a blemish on our picture-perfect family. But she failed.
Now Abuela is cleaning up my mother’s mess, and she is making a spectacle of it. Choosing Liv as her sacrifice was all part of their plan. They knew I could not refuse to help my former best friend. I played right into her plan, and now she is playing into mine. We both fancy ourselves the cats in this game, but eventually, someone must be the mouse. I refuse to be the weaker person.