Harper grinned at me as Grace and I filed out from the back room. I smoothed down my apron, wanting something to do with my hands. I smiled back at him nervously, glancing at his soft, brown eyes for only a second before my own eyes started darting around the room, trying to find Cyrus.
Being unable to spot him filled me with conflicting emotions. Was it good or bad, better or worse, that I couldn’t see him easily?
I decided that, for the time being, at least, I would push him out of my mind. He was just a customer, and Harper, sweet, gentle Harper, was sat at the bar, leaning heavily across the counter and waiting for me to say something to him.
“Hi,” I said.
Harper frowned, standing immediately and reaching for me. “Are you okay, Cals?”
“She’s been like this all day,” Grace chipped in, shaking her head at me.
&n
I’d half expected the house to be in darkness when I got home, but the downstairs lights were on, and it looked as warm and inviting as ever. I pulled up next to Harper’s battered old car, some vintage Chevy that he was equal parts proud of and fed up with, and then I killed the engine.It was easier to face myself, sat alone in the liminal space that my car provided. It had always felt like a limbo to me: you were either getting in, getting out, or actively driving. To sit in it, especially in the driveway, or a car park, at night, made the very air feel hazy and dizzying.The orange streetlight glowed against the windows, catching on the water droplets from the earlier rainfall. They were stark against the dark, glum sky, and I pressed the pads of my fingertips against the cool glass, tracing the pattern of them.I was only prolonging the inevitable. But his face – I’d never seen Har
To put it mildly, I’d been surprised to learn that a demon had taken up residence in the neighbouring town of Beerbridge. It was a little bigger than Seafall, and sat off to the east. It was known primarily for its large harbour and docks, so I supposed that a travelling creature, such as a demon, would see the benefits of settling there for a while.There were plenty of bodies ripe for possession, and, if it got bored, there was easy access to other port towns readily available.Though I was, of course, not glad that a demon had taken root in Beerbridge, I was glad of the distraction it provided me with. It all worked out perfectly – I had Sunday off work, and Susan, of all people, had found us a lead. Sierra had followed it up, and we’d gathered a few of our number to track the monster.Torre had been eager to stay behind in Seafall. The vampires were her main concern, and she’d asked Beau to st
Once we were in the right place, Old Tim – and the demon possessing his body – were surprisingly easy to find.It was a relief to fall into the familiar routine of hunting. It gave me a chance to shut out my thoughts regarding Harper and Cyrus, and allowed me to focus fully on the task at hand. I was in my element here, stalking the streets of Beerbridge, my hand gripping the rowan knife in my pocket.I’d had to move it from the thigh holster – cool as it had looked – so that I could swing it quickly when the time came. Though Sierra seemed confident with the words of the exorcism, words of power designed to send the creature back to Hell, I couldn’t leave anything to chance. Who knew what poor Old Tim was dealing with, trapped inside his own body and unable to move or think or speak. He was a passenger, as far as our previous experience told us, anyway. I wrinkled my nose at the thought, and clutche
The stadium in Beerbridge had been built on an old apple orchard, which explained why their team, Beerbridge Town F.C., was nicknamed the Apples. However, I didn’t think it explained why half the stadium was filled with middle aged men wearing cartoon apples with gaudy, beaming faces on their heads.I’d played a lot of sports in my time, and football had been one that I’d enjoyed. I’d never understood the appeal of watching it, though. I wanted to be an active participant, rather than dressing myself up like an idiot and shouting from the sidelines. I’d been to a few university home games to watch Harper (he’d played for the Seconds), but that was more to be a supportive girlfriend than out of any real interest in watching the sport itself.Unfortunately for us, we needed to fit in with the heaving crowd. And that meant buying apple heads of our own.“I feel ridiculous,” Me
It was all my fault. I’d hesitated, and, because of that, Old Tim was dead. The demon had lured me in, with what were most likely lies, and I’d taken too long to strike. And I’d forgotten another important rule of hunting, though it was an unspoken guideline more than an actual rule: don’t gloat.Maybe, if the demon hadn’t known it was going to die, it would have left Old Tim alive. I berated myself angrily the whole way back to Seafall, and as my emotional exhaustion began to set in, I continued to berate myself in a bitter inner voice, rather than the angry one, cold and almost toneless.Death was an unfortunate part of the reality of hunting. But unnecessary death was something far, far worse, and this time I’d been the one to cause it.I’d gone through the motions of the clean up rigidly, hardly noticing what my body was doing. I was less than a passenger as we sorted t
Bella e Buona. Beautiful and good, it meant. At least, that was what Cyrus had told me when I’d asked, grinning and eyeing me meaningfully around a mouthful of pasta and garlic bread. “Just like you,” he’d added, his eyes gleaming.I made a mental note about the garlic bread. I was pretty sure that was a myth, but it was better to be safe than sorry. I had to focus on work, otherwise I’d tumble into a swirling pit of anxiety. There were too many thoughts to contend with – too many difficult, confusing thoughts – so I kept my mind purposefully blank, save for useful information. It was a notepad, and my thoughts were allowed to be the pen – and only the pen.I was yet to meet his family, and considering the time I’d spent with him already, there weren’t many notes to make. I idly commented on the food, which was, admittedly, delicious – too delicious for a vampire to h
As I took Cyrus’s hand, I made a split-second decision. I’d not yet met his family, but with each passing second the likelihood of that shrunk further. And, even if I did meet them, would I be able to discern their true nature? A chef at work or a barman would be unlikely to do anything that would suggest something one way or another, and Cyrus was willing to tell me the truth. About what I didn’t yet know, but I had a feeling I wanted – needed, even – to hear it.So I took his hand, and I followed him out into the dark.He drove. It was a nice car, more understated than I’d expected for a man of his arrogance and wealth. The seats were plush and comfortable, but the dashboard was relatively low-tech. Actually – I squinted through the dim light – was that a tape cassette player? I thought they’d become obsolete years ago.I nodded to it. We’d been sat in comfort
I froze. But it was not just fear that flooded me; it was relief, too, as cold as ice water and just as refreshing too. Someone other than my Dads and the others hunters knew, and the heady part, the thing that freed me, was that I hadn’t told him. I hadn’t broken their trust. He just… knew. But how?My second response was to lie, to protect myself and my team. “A hunter?” I repeated, curling my lip up into a bemused smirk.He rolled his eyes at me. “Don’t pretend.”I sighed. “Fine, okay, yeah.” I gave in too easily, simply because I didn’t want to have to hide it. My whole issue with Harper came from my omission of the truth in our relationship, and now here we were, sleeping in separate beds while I went off on trysts with another man. A man who knew who I was, far better than I’d anticipated. “How do you know, exactly?”
I braced myself, lifting a bandolier weighted down with silver bullets and resting it across my chest. My knife was strapped to my ankle, a gun was slung low across my hips, and a silver dagger rested at my thigh.I’d laced my boots with resolve, each knot a promise. I was doing this for the right reasons. I was a protector, not a monster. The sword down my back was double-edged, both killer and saviour, but I wielded it with the power to choose. I would not allow myself to be what I had been, and what many of the others still were.Cyrus caught my wrist, pulling me close. Our lips met in a heated kiss, his tongue and teeth searing my core. Hands tugged the plait from my hair, and fingers tangled in the dark waves. My skin tingled with his touch, and bolts of lightning fractured down my spine.The bond between us swelled, crackling with glossy sunlight and soaring blue waves. The heat of Cyrus’s affection bec
Gaudy lights flashed above, drenching Cyrus’s face in bright reds and blues. With alcohol humming in my veins and his arms holding me close, I moved past the flashing, burning image of blood that overlaid the reality of the coloured, moving lights. Even as my mind whispered that it was blood, blood and pulsing blue veins, Cyrus swept me into a spin that threw aside my fears.I grinned at him before he pulled me in again. His joy brushed mine, intertwined within my chest. It didn’t lessen the ache that I dragged with me, but it smothered it, forcing the pain to submit.“As much as I like it when you curse and tease and fight,” he murmured, his lips ghosting across my ear, “you are truly beautiful when you smile, Callie.”Before I could respond, Cyrus tugged me around so that my back was pressed to his front, and his hands cradled my hips. We swung from side to side together, my steps cl
I had to move on. At least, I had to try. And, though understanding and enacting were two different things, it was easier to try if I kept myself focused on the present – rather than my jarring, pain-distorted past, or the murky and indistinct waters of my future. Looking back brought forth only blood and terror, and I couldn’t see through the thick, cloying mist shimmering softly ahead. It coated my crumbling relationships, Cyrus’s vampiric nature, and my comparatively short lifespan. Behind, my Dad’s words had carved themselves into my bones and tattooed themselves onto my skin. I could taste Veronica’s fear with every swallow. The walls closed in around me whenever I was alone, and the neat, sharp clicks of Alice’s footsteps followed me around every corner. Even in Wiley Manor, a hotel so detached from my old life in Seafall, monsters found me in my sleep. Sleepy, soft kisses to my forehead, my temples,
“Get out,” Dad hissed, his face contorting. Shadows crept across his cheeks and nose, distending it into something twisted and evil. Fear filled my gut, and I stepped backwards. My hands trembled as I reached for the door.My fingers turned to claws as I scrabbled behind me. Dismay rose in my throat as I flattened my palms, feeling desperately for the door. I turned slowly, knowing before I saw it that the door was gone.I was trapped. The windows shuttered, and my Dad loomed before me. Paps cowered at his side, shrunken and rat-like with front teeth that slipped from beneath his lips. As I watched, they sharpened into points and became fangs.My feet skidded under me, slipping on something wet streaking across the floorboards. I looked down to get my bearings, to get my balance, and bile clung to the back of my mouth. It wasn’t just something wet. It was blood.Flames shuddered acr
The drive to the hotel was quiet, but comfortably so. Perhaps because there were no words that could have made the situation any easier, Cyrus and I allowed the silence to swallow us whole. He rested his hand on my thigh, a steady pressure that kept me grounded enough that thoughts of shoving myself out of the car and rolling across the road – just so that the physical pain overshadowed the emotional for even a moment – seemed nonsensical.Without him there, I wasn’t entirely sure what I would have done. I heard my Dad’s last words to me on every inhale, and I saw the dull look in my Paps’s eyes with every exhale. I breathed, but it didn’t make me feel any better.Get out. Get out. Get out.The sun was just starting to break through the clouds as we pulled in to a car park, nestled alongside a shaggy stretch of woodland. I turned to Cyrus, confusion drawing my eyebrows down. H
My back stiffened. Any attempts at lounging went out the window the second my Dad entered the room. I curled my hands into fists, digging my nails into the soft, broken skin of my palms.His face was shadowed. I ached to go to him, to bridge the gap between us. He’d placed a blanket on me as I’d slept mere weeks ago, and now he was staring at me as if I was a stranger. My breath latched in my throat as I tried to speak.“What is your decision?” I asked. My voice did not sound like my own.“This has not been easy for me, Callie. For us. You have made it incredibly difficult.”I stood on shaking legs. There was a softness to him beneath the hard shell that forced his mouth into a downward tilt. It spilled out rarely, but it was there.“I am sorry for what I have done,” I said. “But I do not regret it, nor do I wish to t
The world collapsed in on itself as I waited for the door to open. My right hand remained curled in a loose fist, raised against the wood, knuckles bared. I flexed my fingers and, slowly, lowered my hand.I focused on my breathing, caught in that everlasting moment. With every rise and fall of my chest, I could feel the passage of time. It had to be moving. I was not trapped here.I turned halfway back towards Cyrus, needing to see him, to reassure myself that he was still here with me, when the door finally opened. I caught a flash of hair so dark it shone blue even in the dim light, and then hard arms were pulling me inside.“Callie,” Paps breathed, his body warm and unyielding as he held me close. “Oh, thank God.”I stilled against him, my arms at stiff angles by my sides. My heart leapt – he seemed glad to see me – even as it twisted and tangled, knotting itsel
“You know,” Cyrus said, his tone carefully casual, “I could do the same for your Dads – and the other hunters, too.”He set down the photograph he’d been holding, the wooden frame knocking against the hard surface of the kitchen counter. I didn’t have to look to know which photo in particular he’d been about to pack into my old, worn suitcase, scraped from years of overuse.The day had dawned slowly, the sun hiding behind blank white clouds that had grown grey as they had settled into the sky. The kitchen was dim, though Cyrus’s eyes still somehow glittered like stars on a calm sea as they met mine.I sighed, shoving the last of my cutlery into the same wicker basket I’d used to move my utensils to and from university for the last three years. It smelt faintly of fruity cider, and my nose crinkled slightly at the faded red stain down its side.
“Harp?” I called out. It was the first time I’d spoken to him since our argument. I’d heeded his wishes; as such, I had no idea if he’d even still be at home. I hoped he was. Whether for me or for him, I longed to offer him this chance to move past this. I had ruined myself. I didn’t want to destroy Harper, too.“Callie?” Harper thundered into the hall, eyes wide, chest heaving. “I – I went to find you, and you were gone.” He pulled me into a crushing hug, pressing me tightly against his chest. “Fuck. I was so worried, Cals.”My heart ached. “I’m sorry.” My voice sounded tiny.“I – I thought–“ he spoke wildly, the words spilling out between panted breaths. “I thought you were – oh, shit,” he swore, and then pushed me away, holding me at arm’s length to appraise me. &ldqu