1866

Drumbeats fill the spaces between pounding heartbeats. Smoke, blood, and the rotten stench of fear and death have replaced the comforting smells of horse, hay, and clean leather.

Malachi snarls a curse, slamming his shoulder against the door keeping us locked in stables. It splinters under his assault but does not fall.

“Leave it,” intones our king, our sire. The male who turned me centuries ago as I lay dying on a battlefield. He stands tall, as resolute as a cliff against the waves, in the central aisle I’d swept earlier that morning.

Like the rest of us, he’s covered in blood—some of it his own. These humans, these self-proclaimed deliverers of Heaven’s justice, have weapons we’ve never encountered before. Blades that make the wounds inflicted burn as if coated in acid. The hunters from out-of-town wear a talisman that shields them from our attacks and have donned white tabards emblazoned with an iron cross in the center of a collar with spikes pointed inwards.

Rhys had snarled at the image, flying into a frenzy as he tried to attack one of the hunters. His family had died wearing those collars, used for torture. When his vicious attacks did nothing, each swipe repulsed by an unseen barrier, the townspeople who’d joined in the mob attacked.

I sink down the paddock door, scrubbing my face in anger and shame.

Men, and some women, who we considered friends once, had swarmed us. They had armed themselves with kitchen knives, hunting daggers, and family heirloom swords. Even fucking pitchforks and torches, as gods-damned cliche as it was.

Vampires may be faster and stronger than humans, but we were outnumbered four to one. It’s like every damn person had joined the mob.

And we’d killed them, defending ourselves.

I killed them.

Benedict, the grizzled old man who I’d swapped stories with of horse escapades. Danny, the baker, who always had a soft spot for Josephine. Thomas, practically still a boy at seventeen who pestered Rhys with questions about the world.

Johnathan. Tears of anger and hurt roll silently down my cheeks as I look up at the top of the barn. Jonathan, the man who’d begged Cassandra to save his wife and babe. Who had allowed himself to be convinced that Charity had given birth to a devil and given her soul away. Who’d allowed her and their child to be killed for the sake of purifying the world.

Kasar had called in a retreat and we’d been harried towards the stable. Whatever magic these humans were using created a ward stronger than any I’ve experienced. We were trapped in here, all us males. I can only be glad Cassandra and Josephine had remained in the main house.

Cassandra’s fear has remained near choking levels and even now, I dredge up the energy to send my love towards her, promises that it will all be okay.

Josephine will get her out and keep her safe. The mob has no idea that the two females aren’t in here with us.

“It looks as if we’re to be roasted alive,” Lan says blandly, as if discussing the next week’s weather or the upcoming harvest.

Rhys and Ezra lean together against a support post and look up at the hayloft. Kasar leaps from his position next to Ambrose to join the blond vampire at the hay door, Ambrose following his second’s every move. Malachi comes and stands over me, his fists clenched, knuckles bloody and bruised. He looks around the stables and holds his hand out to help me up.

“We should let the horses have a chance,” he says quietly. “The far door might open since there’s an overhang. Maybe they’ll be able to pass through the ward even if we can’t.”

I grab his hand and let him haul me up, ignoring the dull ache deep in my side. Someone had gotten a lucky blow, penetrating deep in my side. The bleeding is sluggish now, my tattered shirt and pants growing stiff with dried blood. I don’t say anything and Malachi doesn’t seem to expect me to. He lets me go the moment I’m on my feet and turns to the nervous horses across from me.

I turn to face the stall I’d sought refuge in. A sob chokes me as I realize I’d sought Lily Dancer out, the spirited mare I’d been riding the day I met Cassandra. Unlike the other horses, she was calm watching me with trusting eyes. I slide open the bolt, pulling the door open and stepping in with her. She butts her head against my chest, seeming to not care about the blood covering me.

“Hey, beautiful,” I murmur, unable to speak any louder. I pray to anyone who might be listening that she not be condemned to burn alongside me. I steal a moment to scratch under her chin, swallowing back the grief wrapping around me. “I’m going to need you to do a favor for me. I know you love to run, and that’s what I need you to do. I need you to run, and take the rest of them with you. Don’t stop until you find someone who will treat you the way you deserve. Can you do that for me, girl?”

Lily Dancer’s warm brown eyes are bright, as if she understands everything I’m saying. She tosses her head and stamps a hoof before pushing me hard enough with her nose that I’m forced to take a step back. I shake my head, doing my damnedest to not let any of my heartbreak travel to Cassandra. I don’t want her to feel my pain at this loss or my fear for her own safety.

I shake my head. “I’m not joining you this time.”

“The horses can make it!” Malachi shouts from the other end of the barn. Whatever ward they have surrounding the stables must not be pressed directly against the back door.

“Hear that?” My voice is more jovial than I feel and Lily Dancer stamps her foot again. I bolt behind her, slapping her rump hard enough to startle her. She rears, only a handful of inches off the ground before jolting out of the stall.

I follow her out, arms out wide and herd her in the direction of the open door. Rhys and Ezra have joined us in opening the stall doors and chasing the horses out.

Lily Dancer prances in place, tossing her head and huffing with irritation while she glares at me. I can’t help going to her one last time, wrapping my arm around her strong neck, breathing in the comforting scent of her hair. I step back and meet her brown eyes one last time.

Then she turns towards Malachi and the open barn door, picking up speed as she leaves. By the time she’s passing through the massive doors, her mane and tail are flying behind her. Even in the dark, I can see her charge through the paddock filled with milling horses. At her passing, the rest follow, ready to be led as they charge through or over the simple fence.

Peace settles over me, blunting the edges of the agonizing pain.

It’s easy to ignore the growing shouts of the mob, their beating drums so similar to those I’ve heard on battlefields. They’re surrounding the stables now; they had to have spotted the fleeing horses.

I turn my back on the dark doorway, not wanting to look at the faces of people who once treated us with kindness.

Instead, I reach for Cassandra through our bond. I wish we would have had more time together. Forever wouldn’t have been enough, though. I sink into my love for her, thinking only on my favorite moments with my witch.

The smell of burning wood grows stronger; the crackle of fire racing across the front of the barn is as loud as gunfire.

“Burning is a hell of a way to go.”

I open my eyes at Malachi’s defeated words. I hadn’t realized I’d closed them.

“Not the way I’d choose to go, that’s for sure,” Ezra adds. He and Rhys join us in the center of the stable. It’ll take some time for the fire to reach us, which is almost worse. A realization freezes me and I must stiffen since my three vampire brothers all look to me.

“I need one of you to kill me, quickly.” The words rush from me. I keep going, ignoring the mixed looks of shock and horror. “For Cassandra,” I explain, desperation claiming me. I grab Malachi’s bicep, pleading, “I can’t let her feel me burn. I won’t be able to keep the wall up between us. I— I can’t do that to her.”

“Ashe—” Malachi starts but is cut off by Ambrose shouting my name.

“Get up here,” Ambrose orders and I find the energy to sink into a crouch before leaping to the loft. I stride over to him, a question on my lips. Ambrose, Kasar, and Lan are all looking in the direction of the main house. I follow their gazes.

Through the rising smoke, over the milling crowd bellowing and cheering a shouting man standing in his stirrups, in the pale light of the moon, is Cassandra. She’s on the roof, Josephine standing back, shouting at her.

I claw down our bond, reaching out for her, only to be met with an adamantine wall. Horror turns my stomach to stone, sinking me to my knees. I shake my head. She can’t. She swore she wouldn’t.

“What’s she doing?” The other males have joined us at the hay door, but I don’t know who asked the question.

“Summoning a demon, it appears.” I recognize the solemn, authority-filled voice as Ambrose.

“No,” I croak out, unable to take my eyes off of my wife. Someone grips my shoulders, and I realize they’re holding me back from the ledge of the door. I struggle and more hands grip me, keeping me from attempting to rip through the ward imprisoning us. “Cassandra!” Her name rips from my chest.

She stands tall, her sleeves ripped from her blouse; the moon’s light turns the trails of blood along her arms to silver. Josephine still shouts, pushing against an invisible barrier.

One of the men below us turns to see where we looked, then begins pointing and shouting. Half of them separate from the crowd and surge towards the house.

Cassandra’s commanding shout is as clear as if she’d spoken in my ear. Air rushes outward from her, blasting the mob and us. I throw a hand up to shield my eyes, struggling through the dust and smoke to see. There’s a new presence standing in front of her, a malevolent darkness that seems to swallow any light.

“Don’t,” I plead with my wife. “Gods, anything but this, Cassandra.”

Josephine is gone now, likely dealing with the assailants.

“You promised,” I shout at my wife, not caring that she can’t hear me. She’s blocked me completely through the bond. Did she plan this? Did she swear to me she wouldn’t summon a demon, knowing it was a lie? Or have I failed her so spectacularly that she felt pushed to this? I’d sworn these men would never touch her and now we were separated, the stables going up in flames around me.

“Not like this,” I plead, voice growing hoarse. “Anything but this.”

As if she can hear me, she looks in my direction. Her eyes find mine across the distance. My soul is buffeted by a tidal wave of love and sorrow. Then it cuts off as she looks back to the void, so fast and completely I question if I’d imagined it.

The void crashes over her body, enveloping, devouring. Screams rise around me, only for me to realize I’m the one who is making the sound. The sound of a dying beast, full of pain and suffering.

I think it’s Ambrose himself that wraps his arms around me, holding me tight against him as my world is ripped away before me.

Cassandra—or whatever she summoned—leaps from the roof and into the crowd. Whatever they see when they look at her sends them into a panic, even the demon hunters as their magic fails them.

The ward around the barn falls, and the rest of my vampire brothers rush outside. Malachi and Kasar are shouting about putting the fire out.

My mind is filled with... nothing. It’s impossible to think, to be horrified as the slaughter below us grows. As the scent of terror is quickly overwhelmed by the scent of blood and death.

I don’t resist as Ambrose moves me, sweeping me into his arms like I’ve fallen in battle. My king, never one to be tender, leaps from the loft to the ground filled with puddles of crimson red. He’s careful to angle me so I can’t see Cassandra and I’m not sure if I’m thankful for that kindness or furious.

He carries me from the scene, too tired to use the speed I know he’s capable of. Josephine meets us in the doorway, her gray dress speckled with blood and half of her silver hair falling around her shoulders in disarray.

I look away when her eyes meet mine. I can’t handle pity.

Ambrose sets me on a chaise lounge in the sitting room, while Josephine rights a table near me. He says something to his daughter and goes to leave. He hesitates and turns back to me.

I meet his eyes, my own senses dulling.

“She saved you,” Ambrose speaks, keeping his voice low. “She saved all of us with her sacrifice.”

I turn away from him, squeezing my eyes shut. He leaves me, Josephine following a moment later. I’m grateful. She doesn’t deserve my anger, even as I want to rage that she should have stopped her. I know she tried.

I’m left alone in the deafening silence, a part of my soul missing, cut off from me.

I weep until the black claims me.