But at the cruelest of times, I am reminded that I am no longer a vampire. Like when my friends fight my battles, and I must simply watch and hope they make it through.
The night is cold, and a sharp wind blows through the forest, rattling the bare branches. The blast of air is so harsh, it swarms my mind, allowing me to hear nothing else. I suppress a shiver and try to stand. I need to move, to take cover. Unlike the vampires, I cannot withstand the bitter temperatures. My clothes are wet and tattered, and the air burns against my exposed skin.
I try to trek through the snow, trying to stay low, stay safe, just stay out of the way. But all around me, there is carnage and fireballs and screams. I try not to listen, because I know these sounds will haunt me until the day I die. For that reason alone, I am thankful Mamá’s spell cut my life short. I do not need these visions or these cries for help to follow me for an eternity.
I am standing, spinning in a circle, unsure of where to go, where to hide. Thankfully, no one notices me. I suppose that is the only perk of this spell. Not considered a threat, I have become invisible. But my enemies are not so lucky.
The vampires effortlessly evade the witches’ attacks. The sound of metal scraping against bone makes my stomach queasy, so I try not to focus too intently on the chaos surrounding me.
I turn ’round and ’round, searching for a safe place to wait out the storm, but I succeed in only dizzying myself. I try to take a step forward but trip over something solid, and I shriek as I plummet to the ground. Already icy and stiff, my hands begin to scream at me.
Something catches my eye, and when I turn my head, I stare into the lifeless eyes of Liv, my best friend. I suck in a sharp, cold gasp. Regardless of what happened, tears prickle at my eyes, and I am grateful for the wave of pain washing over me. My torment over losing her means the spell has not quite clutched my sanity the way it has the others. At least not yet, but I know I do not have much time.
Liv’s eyes are still open, as if she was just as surprised as I was when Hikari targeted her. Already, her eyes are turning murky in color. Her pupils are cloudy, but her irises are black, not the chocolate-brown color I remember them to be.
I hate that she died while under the influence of black magic, but it gives me comfort to know her death was quick, painless, and I assume that was Hikari’s gift to me. She does not want me to hate her for killing my friend, but part of me does anyway. The part of me that still believes it is crazy to live like this—in constant fear of yet another fight brewing between the witches and the vampires—wants to go back in time and save Liv, but I am no wizard.
Liv’s skin is pale, and her lips are blue. She is cold, her skin icy as a fresh layer of snow scatters her body. I brush away what has coated her neck and peer at her skin. The black veins that were encroaching her jawline seem higher now. Is it possible they are still moving? Or do they spread that quickly?
Guilt washes over me, and I drown in it. I choke out a cry and brush hair from Liv’s face, but I succeed in only smearing something over her skin. With tears in my eyes, I try to wipe it away but only manage to make a bigger mess. Confused, I look at my hands and suck in a sharp breath. My palms are covered in that same black, tarry substance that Will and Mamá hacked out earlier.
The darkness is inside of me. It is happening. Now.
I sit back, resting my bottom on the soles of my feet. My butt is cold, and the caked snow on my shoes does not help to alleviate the chill. The snow has seeped through my jeans now, and my shins are freezing. The frigid temperatures drop steadily as night envelops the village, and the breeze tousles my hair.
Frantically, I try to wipe off the substance by wiping my hands together, but it does no good. It is still there. Quickly, afraid if I wait too long this substance will seep into my pores, I pile snow onto my hands and use it to clean myself, but still, it does not remove the tar.
Breathing heavily, I feel my anxiety rising. My heart is screaming, my mind becoming hazy as blood rushes to my brain. I scrape my palms against my thighs, certain this will remove it. Again, it does not.
I shriek as I stare at my hands, and the tar moves, taking on a life of its own. Quickly, it spreads, fanning out, wrapping around my hands and shooting up my arms. I feel it everywhere. Without even seeing myself, I know I am cocooned by it. I am one giant blob of black tar, and no one seems to notice.
How is this happening right now?
I feel the substance penetrate my flesh, and when I scream again, it floods my mouth. I choke on it. It tastes like rotting flesh. It is gritty and thick, and it swarms within me, buzzing as it fills even the deepest crevices of my body. It is everywhere inside of me, blending seamlessly with me on a cellular level. It takes over, and I have no idea where it ends and I begin.
I am screaming, but when I search the yard, desperate for Jasik or Will or anyone who actually cares about me, I see only Liv and the countless unfamiliar witches who have died because of me, because of this endless war.
The witches are angry, throwing out their arms, blasting their elemental magic at me. It slams into my chest, burning straight through to my core.
I do not look down. I do not want to see the result of the witches’ hatred. But I do not have to look at my wounds to know I feel hollow, like the very center of my body has been fried away.
I think I am dying. I am light-headed, my vision blurry, and my heartbeat begins to slow. Is this what it feels like to die? I died once, and it was excruciating. The transition from witch to vampire was brutal because my senses were rapid firing. All at once, I could hear, see, taste, smell, feel…everything. But this time, it is different. Cut off from my senses, I am plummeting into oblivion. Never in my life have I been so terrified of darkness.
I pray I am dreaming. That thought cradles me in warmth and safety. Maybe I am in my bed, safely tucked away deep inside the manor. I am surrounded by vampires, in the one place the witches cannot reach me. Maybe everything so far was just a dream, and when I wake, I will be a vampire again. I will be happy, healthy, strong.
When the thought occurs to me that I might not be in the manor, that I might still be in the basement, I nearly black out from the rush of fear. Maybe this is my grandmother’s cruel trick. Maybe she is using the black magic to penetrate my mind, to make me see things that are not really there.
Maybe it is too late. Maybe I am too far gone to be saved.
“Ava!” someone screams.
I feel Will grab on to my arms. His long fingers wrap around my flesh, holding firmly, and he shakes me. My body is stiff and does not give way easily. I fight against him, wanting him to just go away. I want this to stop. I want all of it to just be over. I cannot take much more of these games.
I remind myself that Will was with me in the basement too. He might still be there with me, suffering brutal treatment at the hands of those who pledged to protect this town.
He screams my name over and over again, but I do not want to open my eyes. I do not want to see his eyes any other color but crimson. I want to know he is strong and safe and that we are one quick run from escaping captivity.
When he lets go of me and releases a loud grunt, I finally open my eyes. Will no longer shouts my name. He is not holding on to me, desperate for me to awaken. In fact, he is not beside me at all. Will is soaring through the air.
For a brief moment, the world stills as I watch him flutter away.
Then he comes crashing down, slamming into Jeremiah, who was fighting off another witch’s attack. Will lands clumsily, and they fall into a tangled heap. Both frantically trying to stand, they scramble for far too long, and another witch is swiftly approaching, her hand already raised to call upon her magic.