

COPYRIGHT © 2015 BY TINA TRAVERSE

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Thank you for taking the time to purchase and read the first book of the Scarlet Desire Series.

Caution: the book you are about to read includes scenes of violence, assault, and explicit sex which may not be suitable for all readers. This novel carries a trigger warning.

On a less serious note, be aware that Canadian spellings appear and Newfoundland words and phrases.

If you, dear reader aren't from my lovely province, or can't quite make sense of some of the words and phrases spoken by my characters, I have provided for your convenience at the back of this book a CFW (Come from Away) guide that will translate those words and phrases for you.

Happy Reading!

Sincerely,

Tina Traverse, author
Chapter 1

Scarlett

Heavy breathing drawn through clenched teeth echoes in the barren room. The air grows bitter as I sense a presence beside me. Icy breath tingles my neck, and goosebumps pepper my skin. A phantom hand grazes my arm.

"Red, sweetheart, time to get up and get ready for school," my father whispers, using his nickname for me. I rise from my slumber and reach to give Daddy a kiss on the forehead. My lips feel strangely wet. Pressing my fingers to my mouth, they come away slick with blood.

"What's the matter, Red?"

Dad's voice is tomb-soft, barely above a murmur. Blood from a large hole in his forehead drips down the centre of his face. The air seems to electrify as phantasmal fingers trace my cheek, lifeless eyes boring into mine, accusing.

"Why did you do it? I loved you."

"Daddy, I didn't do anything."

"You did. Look."

The cold, hard steel of a gun rests in my hand, my fingers curled around the trigger. Gore drips from its tip, sprinkling the black lettering of a note. A shriek slithers its way up from the frigid pit of my stomach, choking me until I have no other choice. I set it free.

The sweat clings to me like a wet blanket as I scrub the rug. No matter how hard I clean, there is no removing the reminder of the horror of two days ago.

"Scarlett! It's time for supper," my mother calls from the kitchen.

Mom is setting the table and pouring water. The aroma of freshly baked chicken, potatoes, corn, and gravy consumes the kitchen. For a brief moment, all seems normal. I expect my father to waltz through the door at any moment, kissing my mother and praising her for another excellent meal.

"Did you get the stain out of the rug, Scarlett? Your father would want that rug perfect for the guests."

"No, Mom, but I'll keep trying."

There's a faint knock at the door.

"I'll answer it, Mom."

The new parish priest of Petite Forte stands at the threshold, holding a bouquet of flowers and a plate covered in tinfoil. "Good evening, Scarlett. Sorry, I'm late; I had a little parish business to clue up."

"Oh, pish posh, Father. It's no big deal; we just started. Come and sit down."

"Please accept my flowers and plate of homemade lemon squares as a small token of my appreciation for this lovely meal, Mrs. Winters."

My mother presses the yellow tulips to her nose, inhaling their fragrance. She retrieves a vase from the cupboard and fills it halfway, placing the flowers in before setting them on the table and places the squares on the counter.

"That is quite lovely of you, Reverend. Thank you."

"You are quite welcome."

Father Smith digs into his chicken with gusto and seems to savour each bite. The conversation is mostly small talk in between bites and sips of water. Finally, he broaches a painful subject.

"I apologize to be bringing up such a hard subject at the dinner table, but it's necessary. Mrs. Winters, have you finalized your preparations for David's funeral?"

My mother chokes back her tears, wiping a stray one with her napkin. "Yes. Scarlett and I have the final requests and papers all in order. I have them all over on the countertop."

"Perfect. I will take those when I leave, and put the final touches in place for tomorrow." Father Smith squeezes my mother's hand. "I promise, I'll take the utmost care and attention to make sure that I provide David with a meaningful and peaceful memorial."

My mother squeezes his hand back and wipes the tears from her red cheeks. "Thank you, Father. David deserves to be sent to his resting place and into the arms of God."

The day is cold, and the sky hides behind thick clouds. The grey stillness of the day suits my somber mood. My father's funeral is today, and my heart thuds with dread.

In the bathroom, my mother applies a final touch of lipstick with trembling hands. "It's blush rose, your father's favourite colour."

I catch her gaze in the mirror, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I brush her long black hair. "You look beautiful."

Mom reaches behind and squeezes my hand. "Thank you. So do you. I just need one more thing to make me look perfect. Could you get me the black hat in my room?"

"Sure."

I enter my parent's bedroom, careful not to look at my father's side of the bed. Opening my mother's closet, I retrieve her "fancy" hat, a black derby embellished with white ribbon around the middle. My father bought her that hat on their honeymoon in London, and it was her only formal headwear. The hat falls from my hands and lands in front of the "mystery closet". The mystery closet is a simple brown door on the left side of the room; only my mother has access. I remember as a kid I had wondered what was inside, and begged my mother to let me see. Her response was always no, the contents weren't my business. My mother could never be swayed with my repeated requests, so in time, I learned to drop my curiosity.

I still wonder what could be so secret that my mother would keep it locked away.

To outsiders of the small community where we live, my family appears to be normal, unassuming. When we moved to Petite Forte, Quebec, the citizens of this town thought that as well. To all appearances, we were just the Winters family; a father who worked as a construction foreman, and a mother who was a homemaker. Together, they raised seven daughters. Six are grown and scattered throughout the country, with the youngest preparing for university.

It all changed when father was found dead from a bullet to his brain. My mother was left a widow. Gossip ran rampant, fuelling ghastly rumours about mafia connections, a gambling debt that had to be paid, or that my mother had caught my father cheating on her. None being true, the cause remains an enigma.

At my father's grave site, I clutch a personal prized possession to my heart, a letter addressed to me. My eyes sting with the effort of holding back the tears.

Mom's gentle touch grazes my shoulder. Her eyes are red and swollen from crying. "You ready to lay your father to rest?"

"No. How can I ever be ready to let someone go when I never got to say goodbye first?"

"I know. I can't let him go either, but we must. He needs to go to his peace. This life wasn't easy for your father; he deserves his reward."

My gaze darts between my mother, who has struggled to keep composed when she has every right to fall apart, and Father Smith, who has barely taken his eyes off me. I shiver with an odd sense of foreboding.

I fold my father's letter and slip it into my pocket, allowing my fingers to linger for a moment for strength. "You're right. Let's go."

The reception passes in a blur. Each person that lives in this tiny hamlet has come by to pay their respects, and left us with a tower of casseroles, sandwiches and squares. They're like robots, all saying and performing the same meaningless gestures. Mayor Lucien Crow embraces my mother with a ghost of a hug.

"So sorry for your trouble, Kelly. Please accept my condolences. If there's anything Linda and I can do, just ask."

I cringe. That line was the one I detested the most, because it was stupid and empty. Five of my sisters buzz about, tending to everyone's needs, while Lucy, just a year and a day older, is out on the porch, smoking. The sisters' visit is so brief that my time with them has been non-existent. Between the funeral arrangements and catching up with their friends, there is no time left to spend with family.

"Mind if I sit down?"

The voice comes from behind me, unnerving me. I look up from my perch on my dad's favourite leather recliner in the den and see the smiling face of Father Smith. He hands me a glass of water before taking a seat on the couch. I guess my permission is a formality.

"How are you holding up, Scarlett?"

"I'm well as can be expected."

The Reverend clasps my hand in his, and even through his gloved fingers, his flesh is cold to the touch. I pull away, but he holds firm. His piercing blue gaze locks with mine, as though he is seeing through to my soul. I shiver, feeling uneasy.

"Do not be afraid of your tears, Scarlett. They cleanse and heal the soul. It's quite normal to cry. Your father died."

I manage to wiggle free of his grasp, folding my hands in my lap. "I have no tears, Father. I said I was fine, and I mean it."

"You feel fine right now because it has been such a shock. I can't imagine how horrifying it was for you to find your father lying dead by his own hand."

Feeling the weight of my father's note is comforting. Having his words close to me reminds me that he isn't far away. Repeating the words of his last letter to me over in my head to block out the preaching of my unwanted guest, I fail at the attempt. Somehow, the Reverend's drone dominates.

"It was horrifying, yes, but I have a ton of support to help me through it."

"That's excellent. Always remember that the best support is our Lord. He is your constant comfort."

I'm in no mood to hear about the imaginary entity my mother put all her faith in. Instead of shooting him with a response on how 'God' couldn't bring me peace, I smile and nod. Father Smith reaches out and picks up a picture off the coffee table, admiring it.

"This picture is beautiful. Where did your mother find it?"

He turns the frame around and points to the vibrant landscape of the town. Mom took the picture from outside the town limits on a hill. Green fields blanket the landscape, and purple, pink and blue sky paint the horizon, dotted by 19th-century architecture reminiscent of an old west town you see in the movies.

"My mother didn't find it anywhere. She took it."

"Really? The picture is beautiful."

"My mother is an artist. Every picture you see in this room is her work."

The holy man's eyes flint across the room, admiring it all. "She's very good. How long has your mother been doing this?"

"Since she was eighteen. It started out as a summer job. It just grew from there."

"Father, would you mind blessing Kelly, the girls and their home? The guests are ready to leave."

The request comes from the mayor's wife, who is insistent. Breathing a sigh of relief, I watch Father Smith retreat into the living room. My respite only lasts moments. The posh elderly woman in the doorway beckons me.

"Coming, Scarlett?"

"Yes, Mrs. Crow."
Chapter 2

Scarlett

Smoke stings my eyes, burning my throat as I crawl through the inferno. I cover my mouth with my sleeve in an attempt to prevent more smoke seeping into my lungs. The exit looms in front of me, beckoning. I scratch my way through the vaporous cloud inch by inch, toward the saving grace.

I raise my head to see how close I am to the door, and see a shadow figure in the corner next to my father's chair. Opening my mouth to yell is an impossibility, because my throat is raw.

"M-mom! I'm"—cough—"over here."

Silence. The figure is motionless. As I squint to identify the figure, it vanishes. The door is near. Feeling dizzy and overwhelmed, the edges of my vision blur and fade. Cool air penetrates my senses. I cough, gasp, and wheeze as my lungs greedily suck it in.

My head thumps with every breath. I rest my cheek on the grass and close my eyes to rest.

Kaboom!

The sudden noise shakes me from my fire-induced stupor. I roll over on my side, grinding my teeth against the shooting pain in my head and limbs. My burning vision centres on the crumbling dwelling I called my home. It smoulders and burn, its light blinding my eyes. Embers cough from the remains floats into the heavens, reducing my life to ash.

I cradle my head in my hands, sobbing. There is a crunching noise behind me and a flash of black in my peripheral. It's a pair of legs, and I look up. Through my blurry vision, a hand reaches out and pulls me to my feet.

"Are you able to walk, Miss?"

"Y-yes."

I'm confused and disoriented. Paramedics lay me down on a stretcher and affix an oxygen mask over my mouth. Focusing on the blinding white ceiling as disembodied voices swirl around me, I try to block out the cacophony of deafening alarm bells.

Chapter 3

Diana

Watching the house solder and char, the light stings my eyes. Embers, coughing from the remains, float in ever climbing spirals to the skies. The blaring of first responder vehicles drowns out the musings of my companion. When the police, fire trucks and ambulances fade away into the night, I hear what he's saying.

"Is she the one?"

"She is. Without any doubt, Robin. Scarlett Winters must be persuaded to join."

"May I ask how you purpose to complete that goal?"

"Follow the plan of our esteemed benefactor. This fire is a tragedy, but it helps fulfil the divination. It's now your turn to put your skills to good use, Robin. Carry out the next step."

Chapter 4

Sebastian

"Get off me. Get the fuck off me. No. No. Please don't hurt me again. Ahhhh!"

My sister's screams snap me out of a deep sleep. She's having one of her nightmares. I push the covers off me and stagger out to her room, still in a sleepy stupor. Declynn is sitting upright in bed, trembling.

I gather the frightened girl into my arms and squeeze, but she pushes me away.

"Get away."

"Declynn, it's me, Sebastian."

"Oh, Sebastian, what's going on?"

"You had the bad dream again."

"Oh, Christ, not again. I wish it'd stop."

That is something I've desired for her for years. She's done everything she can to kill the nightmares, but nothing worked. We've given up. What's the use? She has to live with the dreams.

I gaze out at the clear midnight sky, and an idea pops into my head. "Hey, Sis? We both know that you're not going to go back to sleep, so how about we go to our favourite place?"

Enthusiasm replaces the fear in her expression as she rushes about, getting dressed. "Well, come on, slowpoke. Get yer arse in gear."

The intermingling scents of sweat, booze and cheap cologne assault my senses. I inhale deeply and grin. The I'se de B'y and Jigger pub is our second home. A place where Declynn and I come to escape, and they've never minded that we're underage.

"Well, will ya look at that? The Sinclair twins are sneaking off for another night of tomfoolery. What ye youngsters got planned for tonight?"

Declynn saddles up to the bar and orders us a Blue Star beer. She finishes half of it in one gulp, letting loose a belch before responding to the gruff, middle-aged bartender. "Ah, come on, Ag. You know me and Bass are never up to anything good. We loves our fun."

"Ye are a bunch of sliveens. Are ye two goin' to grace this group of angishores with your gift?"

"What about it, Bass? Do you feel up to giving these losers the treat that's us?"

I polish off the last of the refreshing brew and shrug. "I suppose."

We stroll up to the wooden platform that is the pub's stage. I sit on the stool and retrieved my instrument out of its case. The weight of the accordion settles in my hands, and the buttons are cool to the touch.

The whoosh between the bellows introduces the first notes of the crowd's favourite song. Declynn waits a couple of beats before joining in.

Our instrumental is quickly drowned out by the audience's out-of-tune singing. Some remember the lyrics and sing the song, while the others, too drunk to recall more than sporadic words, sing them in a continuous loop.

"Her eyes they shone like the diamonds..."

"They say she was queen of the land."

"Her hair slung over her shoulders..."

"Tied up with a black garbage bag."

"Black garbage bag? For fucksake, Jimmy, it's black velvet band. How drunk are ye, b'y?"

"Eh, Thomas, suck me shaft."

I almost fall off the stage as Jimmy flips his brother the bird. Declynn is lost in the music, and never notices Thomas throw a beer in Jimmy's face, which sparks an all-out brawl, until I stop playing.

"Why did you stop fer?"

"See for yourself."

Jimmy and Thomas are wrestling in blood and beer on the floor as the others cheer, including the barkeep. Declynn laughs so hard that she falls into me, losing her breath. I pat her on the back as I struggle to swallow back a snort and wipe the tears from my eyes.

"Bah haha hoo hoo. Idiots."

My sister and I stagger offstage and into the cold night. Gulping big, deep breaths, we drink in the fresh air. The clouds blanket the sky, and drops of water pour down on us, sobering us up. Declynn and I run through the rain and make it home. Careful and quiet, we climb the outcroppings to my sister's open window. I tumble onto my knees, knocking her lamp onto the hardwood.

"Shhh. You're going to wake Mom and Dad, you klutz."

My twin places the lamp back on her night table and pushes me out of her way, forcing me to the bed.

"Fuck, where are you going in such a rush?"

"I got to take a piss, newsbag."

I creep out the door behind Declynn and collide with my father. His disapproving stare rakes over my appearance. "Where have you've been?"

"Declynn had one of her nightmares, and I took her to her favourite place to chill out so she could sleep."

John Sinclair shakes his head. "Helping your sister is noble, but going out to god-knows-where in the middle of the night is not the way to do it. You should've called me or your mother. We would've helped."

"Dad, you know how Mom doesn't like to be disturbed. She hates being woke up in the middle of the night."

"I know. You should've gotten me. Your mother will be upset once she finds out that you've gone against her wishes."

"I don't understand why Mom would flip, Dad. Sebastian and I are almost nineteen." The defiant teenager nudges past our father to stand next to me. Dad hears Mom stirring, and ushers us into my sister's bedroom.

"I don't want to wake her." Closing the door behind him, the weathered middle-aged fishermen adjusts his tattered robe and continues with his lecture. "Your age doesn't make a difference. While you and your brother are under our roof, you will follow our rules. Our community isn't as safe as it used to be."

"Jeez, Dad, overreact much?"

"No, I don't. It's my responsibility to make sure my children are safe. Don't pull a stunt like this again, or there will be hell to pay. End of discussion."

"But Dad..."

"Declynn, I said, this conversation is over. Good-night."

My sister sinks onto her bed, grumbling underneath her breath, as our father closes the door behind him.

"Dad is right. He is only looking after us. Our town is accessible to everyone now; the danger is real."

"Fuck, don't you start. Just because we can drive out of town instead of going by boat doesn't mean there are serial killers and rapists waiting to jump us."

"Stop being naïve; it'll get you killed."

Furious, she throws her towel at me before fishing a brush out of the tangled mess in her vanity drawer and sighs. "Go to bed, you paranoid freak. I need my beauty rest."

"That's right; you'll need all the rest you can get, especially with your Media Relations midterm tomorrow."

"Oh fuck, I forgot about that. I didn't study. I guess I'll have to wing it."

"How astute of you. Winging it must be a new way to prepare for the serious things in life."

"Oh, shut up and get out."

"Good night, Mousey."

My sister smiles at me through her reflection, her expression softening at the mention of the childhood nickname. "Good night, Sebastian, and thank you for tonight."

"You're welcome. I'm always here if you need me."

Chapter 5

Scarlett

The scent of homemade cinnamon buns and coffee rouse me from the darkness. I stretch and bound out of bed, anxious for the hot, gooey sweetness to melt in my mouth. Mom was a magician in the kitchen, and I love to wake up to her homemade breakfasts. The smell produces an inpatient growl from my stomach. Entering the bathroom to freshen up, I notice our simple bathroom looks different. The stainless steel fixtures appear to be replaced by expensive gold. The cheap faded blue floor is now black and white marble. The lingering scent of my mother's jasmine perfume has faded.

Panic starts to stir in my gut. The room I'm standing in isn't my bathroom. Catching a glimpse of my dishevelled appearance, and the long, angry red scratch across my cheek, the memories of what happened last night punch me in the gut.

I burst out of the bathroom and run head on into the figure in the hallway.

"Hey, be careful; slow down a little."

I raise my head and peer into piercing blue eyes. "Father Smith?"

"Good morning, Scarlett. How are you feeling?"

"My throat hurts, and I feel that I've been run over by a truck."

"That's normal after what happened. The doctor said you should be okay in a few days."

"Father Smith, where am I?"

"You are in my home. I took you home from the hospital after the doctor discharged you."

"Are my mom and sisters here too?"

The priest's expression grows grim, and his eyes cloud with mist. My heart fills with dread as his hand rests on my shoulders.

"I'm sorry, but your mother and sisters didn't make it. They were overcome by the smoke. The firefighters found your siblings trapped in their rooms, and your Mom just inches from the door."

The world jerks out from under me. Father Smith catches me and helps me to my room and onto the bed. A guffaw escapes my lips. "You're lying, Father. There is no way my entire family could have been wiped out in a matter of days."

"It's the truth, Scarlett. I'm sorry."

I didn't want to hear his words. My mother couldn't have died in the fire. Neither would have Lucy, Brianna, or any of my sisters. They are strong and wouldn't have given up so easily. The only explanation for Father Smith's lies is that he is playing a cruel joke.

"No, it isn't true. None of them wouldn't allow themselves to die. Nancy is a fucking firefighter, for Christ's sake. So stop telling me they're dead."

"It's natural to feel this way. It's called the seven stages of grief. Denial is one of them. No worries; I'll help you heal."

"Thank you, but it's not that easy. My father is dead. My mother is dead. My sisters have perished. I have no one."

The Reverend's solemn expression and promises of hope grated on my nerves. I race past him and into the street, sprinting past the manicured lawns and pedestrians. My heart pounds against my ribcage. I run until my legs are aching and find myself in front of the charred remains of my home. Falling to my knees amongst the rubble, I scratch through the scorched debris and find a framed picture. The glass is shattered and burnt, damaging the picture inside, but I can still see remnants of my parent's image. Rocking back and forth, I hold the frame close and whisper a wish.

"She can't be dead. Oh God in heaven, please tell me that my mother is with you. I need her here with me. I have no one."

"She's with God, Scarlett, and is loved and safe in the arms of her saviour. Your entire family are basking in his glory." Genuflecting in the ashes, Reverend Smith folds his hands over mine, his piercing blue eyes begging me to accept the truth.

"I can't accept their death."

"I'm a man of faith, but not even I can answer why so much tragedy can befall someone and not others. What I can offer you is solace. The pain will ease."

My brain processes the words, but it doesn't comprehend them. The priest helps me up, but I fall back down into the dirt. While there I notice there is something shiny reflecting through the ashes. Reaching through the debris, I pull out a grey metal box.

"What's that?"

I study the box, turning it over in my hands. The metal box has a lock on it. "It looks like something to keep precious things in."

"Why don't you hand me the box and I keep it in a safe place? We can look at opening it tomorrow."

"Okay."

Handing over the box to the minister, I stood up and followed him back to his home.

Later that night I lie in bed, fresh from a long bath and some new clothes, and think about the box that's in the priest's room. Growing up, I vaguely remember the box being in my mother's possession a few times, and how protective she was over it. One day, my father found it on the bed and picked it up to put it away. I'll never forget her reaction when she caught him handling her precious object.

"David, what do you think you're doing? That's mine, and I told you no one was to touch it."

"I was just returning the box, sweetheart."

Mommy snatched the box from my father's hands and held it close to her chest.

"Again, I'm sorry, but what's the big deal about that box? What are you keeping inside that the no one can see?"

"The contents inside are made for my eyes only. You violated my trust."

"For fuck's sake, Kelly. I had no intention to invade your precious privacy. God, you can be a bitch sometimes."

Mom's face turned an unnatural shade of red as she gritted her teeth. I knew she was about to let loose her fury, but from my place under the bed, I was too scared to stop her.

Murmuring words under her breath, my mother raised her hand, and my father was tossed violently into the corner. I flee from my hiding spot and kneel by Dad's crumpled form.

"Mommy, what did you do?"

Her anger dissipates as the reality of what she had done hits her. She drops the box to assess the damage she caused. My father is still conscious but dazed, and pushes himself off the floor.

"Oh, David, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Are you hurt?"

"Get away from me. You're a crazy bitch. Is that how you're going to win an argument? By using magic?"

"No. I didn't know what came over me. You just made me so angry when I saw you with something private, and insulting me pushed me over the edge."

"Kelly, you underestimate how powerful you are. This time it was just a bump on my head, but what will happen next time when you can't control your rage? I can't risk it. I'm taking Scarlett, Lucy, Nancy, and Laura with me to my mother's."

"Please, don't take my daughters away from me. I promise I'll control it. Give me another chance."

"I have every right to protect our children in any way I see fit. See someone in your Coven to help you control your powers, and when you prove that you can, we come back."

I clung to my father as he carried me away, the echoes of my distress vibrating in the halls.

The wisps of memory evaporate, bringing me back to the present. Shivering with the recollection, I pull the blankets tighter around me and shut my eyes tight, blocking any more memories from coming to life. It's pointless. The grey metal monster devours all attempts.

Chapter 6

Declynn

"What did you get for question four, Connie? I got Herbert Meyer. Connie?"

My question falls on my best friend's deaf ears. Her dinner goes uneaten and cold in front of her as she watches my brother play basketball with his goofball jock friends. Lust clouds her vision, and she has a dreamy, sleepy smile.

Sebastian drops the ball, and she practically swoons as he bends over to pick it up.

"Lord Almighty, he's a god. Look at the sweat glistening over those muscles. Those arms, that stomach, and tight ass. A face that looks as though it's carved by a sculptor. And those eyes, I could get lost in them."

"Fuck, Connie, I hope you got a spare pair of underwear. I think you just creamed your jeans." Somehow, my voice breaks through the fog of her yearning.

Startled, Connie turns her attention to me. "Wha? Did you say something?"

"There you are. Welcome back to earth. Yes, I did say something. I want you to stop looking at my brother that way."

"Stop looking at him? That's like asking me to stop breathing. I can't stop looking at him. Compared to the ass-wads in this town, Sebastian is perfect."

I nearly choke on my apple. A juicy slice gets caught in my throat as I swallow my laughter. Connie hands me a glass of water as she hits me on the back. The apple slides down, and I regain my breath.

"Oh my God, Declynn. Are you okay? Do you need me to get the campus nurse?"

"No, I'm fine. The fruit just went down the wrong way as I was suppressing my laughter."

"Why would you laugh? Did I say something funny?"

"You said that my brother is perfect."

"He is. You don't think so?"

"Of course not. I'm his sister and live with him. You and I have been best friends since kindergarten; how could you forget how gross Bass is?"

"I haven't forgotten the things he did to us when we were kids, but we're adults. Sebastian has grown into a full-blown dream."

I pass Connie a napkin. "Here, wipe the drool from your mouth. It's disgusting."

"Hey, ladies. How's it goin'?"

Sebastian stands at our table, still dripping with sweat from the game. "Eww, Sebastian, couldn't you have taken a shower like the rest of your dumb-ass friends before coming over here? You stink."

"Ah, come on, Sis. There's nothing wrong with a little man-fragrance to tickle your senses. It's good for you. Breathe it in." Sebastian leans in and presses his armpit to my face.

I shove him away. "Get away. That's repulsive."

He staggers back and lands in Connie's lap. Her cheeks turn fifty shades of red. Sebastian is in no hurry to get up from my friend's lap. He drapes an arm around her neck. "How about you, pretty one, do you find me gross?"

"N-not at all."

"See? It's only you that finds my natural scent offensive." Sebastian hops off Connie's lap. "Hey Connie, would you like to go out sometime?"

Blushing, my friend offers Sebastian a smile as she turns away. "I would love to go out with you."

"Wonderful. Would you be available to go to the new Quentin Tarantino movie this Friday?"

"Yes."

"It's a date then. I'll pick you up at seven. See you then. Bye, ladies."

"Lord heavens above. I'm going on a date with Sebastian. I can't believe it. What am I going to wear? Should I get something new? Should I have my hair cut? Come on, Declynn, you got to help me."

Connie drags me up off my seat and out of the lunchroom and to her car. She's so excited about her date with my brother that she doesn't realize that I have two more classes to attend.

"Connie, I hate to burst your bubble, but I still have to go to economics and office procedures."

"Oh, fuck. You're right. How silly of me. I lost my brain there for a moment."

"Damn straight. Connie, let me offer you a little friendly advice. I know you've been crushing on my brother since ninth grade, but please don't let your feelings for him take your identity away from you."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"You are an intelligent woman, with a whole lot going for you and a bright future ahead of you. There is so much more to Constance Murray than Sebastian Sinclair."

"I get what you're saying, but don't be condescending. You're gorgeous, Declynn, and can have anyone you want. Look at me. I'm overweight and so plain that I disappear into the crowd." Connie gestures to the students outside all going about their daily business. "I never dated before, and when someone like Sebastian asks someone like me out, it's special and amazing. Can't you just be happy for me? It's only one date, after all."

"I am happy for you. I just want you to be careful."

"Declynn, I'm going to be fine. Besides, it's not like this is some cruel joke. You know your brother is as genuine as they come. He'll never hurt me intentionally."

That's true. Sebastian is the salt of the earth. He would never hurt her. When he asked her out, he meant it. "Okay. Why don't you come on over after school on Friday, and I'll help you get ready?"

Connie leaps out of her seat and hugs me tight. "Thank you. You're the best."

My mother greets me when I come home, handing me an envelope. I glance at the return address, and my heart skips a beat and my gut twists. I throw it in the trash and join Mom in the kitchen to help prepare supper.

"You did the right thing, you know, throwing that junk in the garbage."

"I know."

"It's for the best. You don't need your life wasted on nonsense."

"Yes, Mom."

Chopping the vegetables for the rabbit stew, I tune out my mother's speech on the evil contents of the envelope. The rebroadcast lecture is embedded in my memory.

"I heard that Sebastian asked Connie out on a date."

"He did."

"I'm glad. I like her. She's a lovely girl, and is like her mother. Alyssa has been a good friend to me over the years. Sebastian will do well with Connie. Now, if we could just find a nice fella for you."

"Someday I will, Mom. I'm in no rush."

"You're eighteen years old, and not getting any younger. When I was your age, I was already married to your father, and pregnant with you and your brother."

In silent acquiescence, I stir the stew and simmer the vegetables.

Mother is setting the table when a huge grin crosses her features. It's another Elizabeth Sinclair eureka moment. "I have the perfect boy for you. Lewis Michaels. He's the mayor's son."

"I know who he is, Mom."

"Then you know that he's on the dean's list at Dartmouth. He also plays the violin and is on the short list for the Olympic swim team. He'd be perfect for you. I must go call Leo and set it up."
Chapter 7

Declynn

Once my mother is out of sight, I retrieve the forbidden letter out of the trash. Tearing open the envelope with a knife, I slip the pink parchment out and unfold it and read the banned words.

Dearest Lynn,

I hope that these words find you, but I dare not to hope too much knowing how your mother feels about us. She'll probably burn this letter before it reaches you. But I write the words any way.

I love you, Lynn, and want us to be together like any other couple. I dream of the day that I can hold your hand in public and kiss your lips without the fear of persecution. Everyone believes that we are a sin of nature and that our souls are damned. Despite their hatred and your mother's stubborn bigotry, hold on to our love, Lynn.

Don't give in to pressure or the temptation of an easier life by denying who you are. I never will. I will be home in two weeks. I can't wait to hold you in my arms.

Love

Alexandria.

Wiping a rogue tear from my cheek with the back of my hand, I take my girlfriend's letter and burn it in the wood stove, but that doesn't stop me from thinking about her even after my mother returns, boasting about the date she arranged for me this Friday night.

I picture her flowing golden hair cascading down her back, providing a curtain for her heart tattoo. My fingers tracing her smooth curves and my lips tasting the cherry lip balm on her mouth. I feel a dreamy smile tug at my lips, but I school my expression before my mother notices.

Later that night, I sit on my bed and cradle my only picture of my girlfriend; one of us wearing silly sunglasses and making duck faces at the camera. It was the last picture that survived my mother's drunken tirade.

My mind rewinds at top speed, teasing out still frames of triumphs, sorrows, and the day that turned my world upside down.

It was my sixteenth birthday, and Mom had agreed to allow Alexandria to stay for a sleepover. We were up all night watching movies, eating junk food and goofing around. Alex confided in me that she caught her brother Jerry making out with his best friend, Todd. Then she suggested that we experiment. Hopped up on sugar and always up for a dare, I swallowed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around my friend. We stiffened in the awkward embrace. Our lips touch and it felt weird.

"This feels strange, Alex."

"I know, but Jerry said it's normal eventually. Just give it a chance."

Taking a deep breath, I relaxed into the hug and allowed her lips to roam over mine. I parted my lips and recoiled when Alex bit my lip, drawing blood.

"Ow! Why did you bite me?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. You okay?"

I dabbed my lip with a tissue until it stopped bleeding, but it still throbbed.

"Here, let me make you feel better."

Undeterred, my bold friend swirls her tongue along my bruising lip, and soon the stinging fades away to a pleasant tingling. Cautious, I lean into her and move my mouth over hers, mimicking Alex's movements. Soon, the simple, awkward kiss morphs into a frantic, passionate make-out session.

Breathless, Alex pulled away. "Do you want to stop?"

"No."

Pulling me close, Alexandria smelled like cherries and lemons. She nibbled and kissed down my neck to my collarbone. Her hands slid under my top, slipping it over my head. My nipples hardened to her caress. Alex's tank top joined mine on the floor.

"What in the fuck is going on here?"

My mother's booming voice shattered the enchantment. We tear away from each other, mortified.

"Alexandria Ryan, what do you think you are doing to my daughter?"

"M-Mrs. Sinclair, I-I'm sorry,"

"Enough! I don't want to hear your pitiful excuses. Get dressed and get the fuck out my house and away from my child, you dyke whore, and never return. Your mother is going to hear about your demonic sin."

Dressing with haste, Alex staggered out of my room and out the door. Petrified silence blanketed my humiliation. Mom's rage flowed from her in waves. Her clenched fists hung at her side as she stalked toward me.

"Declynn, I will give you one chance to explain yourself."

My heart pounded against my ribs, threatening to leap my body. Swallowing my fear, I open my mouth to explain when my mother's palm whips across my cheek with a sharp, stinging slap.

"Mom, please, let me explain!"

My pleas fell on deaf ears as my mother's slaps were followed by punches and kicks. I lay curled up on the floor in a fetal position in a weak attempt to protect my body from my mother's rage.

After my mother's wrath was spent, she left me broken and bleeding on the floor until Sebastian came in and took care of me.

I bury that painful memory in the box with the others, and instead, I curl up with Alex's image and fall into slumber.

Chapter 8

Scarlett

Returning from the shower, I hear voices coming from the living room. Peeking over the edge of the stairs, I see a young man conversing with Father Smith.

"Have you made plans now that you have it in your possession?"

Father Smith delays his response to the man's inquiry by taking a long sip of wine. "Yes, I have. I'm currently making arrangements to have the prize divided between us."

"When will I receive my share?"

"Tomorrow. Come by as soon as the sun sets, and you can collect your portion."

"I'll be here."

"Wait. Before you leave, you must meet my guest. Scarlett?"

I hesitate; embarrassed to have eavesdropped, and step to the railing. "Yes, Father Smith?"

The priest's grin makes me feel wary. "Come down, dear, and meet a friend of mine, Mr. Christian Leblanc. He has been dying to meet you."

I traipse down the stairs. Father Smith's guest never takes his eyes off me as I descend. Offering a welcoming gesture, I take his hand. Strangely, his flesh is cold to the touch.

"Pleasure to meet you, Scarlett. Victor has told me so much about you."

"Thank you. I'm afraid he told me nothing about you."

"Sorry for the oversight."

"Leblanc? You have the same last name as those herbal teas I see everywhere."

"That's because I own Leblanc Natural Goods. It's my image on those boxes."

"Wicked. You seem awfully young to have your company."

"I'm older than I look, but thanks to my mother's genes, I appear to be younger."

Christian's smile is warm and welcoming, but his iridescent blue eyes reflect frigid detachment. I step slightly back from the guest.

Disquiet washes over me when the entrepreneur takes his perch next to me. His leg brushes against mine as he offers me another false grin.

"Victor as told me about you, but I want to hear it from those lush lips of yours."

I swallow my discomfort for my caregiver's sake and smile back. "What do you want to know, Mr. Leblanc?"

"Please, call me Christian. Tell me about your plans after the summer sun fades away. Are you going to school?"

"I was hoping to attend university and go into education. I want to work with special needs children."

"That's commendable. It's a difficult profession. Have you applied to any schools yet?"

"I did, but that was before the circumstances that led me to be under Father Smith's care prevented me from pursuing it further."

"Don't let your tragedy deter you from your dreams. It's important not to hold back, but to move forward."

I glance over at the reverend, who merely shrugs like it's no big deal. "You're aware of my situation?"

"I am, and I would like to help. I have a friend who is the head of admissions at Pendergast University in Montreal. I can contact her on your behalf and get you admitted."

"That's very generous of you, but it's too late for submissions, and I don't have my high school transcripts, or worse, tuition."

Christian's cold hands cover mine. This time, his eyes match the warmth of his smile. "Leave it all to me, including the tuition. You just need to give me the go-ahead."

"I don't know what to say, Christian. The offer is more than generous. You don't even know me."

"Scarlett, Christian does this sort of thing all the time. He even has a foundation that helps disadvantaged youths. Christian is a pillar of the community."

"Oh, stop it with the praise, Victor. I'm just giving back. You're under no obligation to accept my offer. It's up to you."

"Thank you. May I have some time to think about it?"

"Sure. Just let me know what you decide. Victor, it's been great, but I have to go. Scarlett, it's been a pleasure. Good night."

"Good night, Christian and thank you."

Father Smith closes the door behind his friend and saunters to the bar and pours himself another glass of wine. "It seems you have a lot to ponder."

"I do. Your friend is benevolent."

"He can afford to be. Christian Leblanc has money to burn. He has millions."

"How did you meet him?"

"I knew Christian's parents. They were poor, and this church helped them out through their difficult times. When Christian grew up and made his fortune, he repaid us for our kindness by first donating an enormous sum, and then his spare time."

"He's a regular donor then?"

"That he is. My parish relies on the generosity of parishioners like him. I think you should jump at the opportunity. It's a chance to start anew."

Later that night, as I lie back against the pillows, my mind is a whirlwind of conflict. Going to school is the new beginning I need to move past my grief and make a life for myself. Doing it on someone else's coin and favours isn't right. My parents have always taught me to make my way.

I can't help but think that despite my caregiver's reassurances, Christian's charity is suspicious. I'm wary that the price of acceptance will be too high.

A knock at the door interrupts my inner musing.

"Yes, who is it?"

"Scarlett? It's Father Victor. I have supper for you."

I let him in. The mixed aroma of sage, carrot, beef, and blueberries sparks a low grumble in my stomach. The corners of the priest's mouth lightly upturn.

"I guess that means you're hungry. Eat."

"Thank you, Father. Excuse me for being curious, but why didn't your housekeeper bring me my supper?"

"I want to give you this."

I take the silver lock box and cradle it in my lap. My fingers caress the slightly charred cover, tracing my mother's initials.

"This is my mother's."

"Would you like me to leave so can open it?"

""I can't open it. It's locked, and only Mom had the combination."

Tears well up behind my eyelids as raw emotion threatens to choke me. Father Victor sees my distress.

"It's fine, dear. You don't have to do anything. Let me take that away for you, and you can eat in peace."

"No, please let me keep it. It's all I have left of my mother."

"Do you want to see what's inside?"

Memories of that day when my mother almost destroyed our family with one swipe of her hand rushes to the forefront of my mind. I hesitate, knowing that the mysterious contents were valued enough by my mother to almost kill my father. Still, I'm torn about whether I should open it to settle the curiosity I had as a child or leave it alone.

Studying the safe and turning it over in my hands, I make my decision.

"I may regret this, but Father will you help me open it?"

"Of course."

My hands tremble as I attempt to spin the combination dial. After several unsuccessful attempts, the persistent priest tries, and within a few minutes the box springs open.

"How did you do that?"

"Nothing but luck. You ready to see what's inside?"

"Not really, but I have to."

Photos of my mother when she was younger and our family pictures graze my fingers. Movie tickets, dinner receipts, locks of hair, and an old book fill the tiny space. I slip the book out of the lockbox and into my pocket while Father Victor answers a phone call. Probably has Mother's spells in it—she'd told me a little about them, and a few small cantrips and incantations, but had been fairly tight-lipped about more serious things, as far as magic was concerned. The rest of my exploration is unearthing nothing more than mundane memory keepsakes. Confused and disappointed, I close the cover just as the priest finishes his call.

"That can't be all," I murmur, more to myself than to Victor. "Why would she keep these secret?"

"Surely there must be another compartment, Scarlett. Your mother would treasure these memories, but surely not to the extremes she did. For your peace of mind, keep looking."

I remove all papers, pictures, feel along the bottom, and come across a hidden compartment. With much effort, I manage to pry free a hard-cover spiral notebook. Opening it, I see each page with a date in my mother's slanted cursive, but the pages are otherwise blank. With a sigh, I close the book and re-lock the strongbox.

"Scarlett, are you okay?"

Father Victor's sincere concern about my wellbeing would've otherwise touched me, but I'm too perplexed to care.

"I'll be fine Father, I just need to rest."

"Very well, good night."

"Good night."

"Scarlett, don't forget to eat your dinner before it gets cold."

I smile and promise not to let my food go to waste.

The soup is delicious; the spices tickle my tongue. The blueberry pie topped with vanilla ice cream is tempting, so I eat the entree in a hurry. Belching my satisfaction, I place the empty tray outside my door.

I grow tired after inspecting my mother's belongings and quickly drift off to sleep.

Chapter 9

Diana

Resting my free hand on the British gentleman's shoulder, I pirouette across the dance floor and listen to him drone on about his scientific work.

"My brother and I are close to perfecting the procedure. Once we do, just imagine the difference it'll make."

"It sounds fascinating, Victor. I wish you the best."

"Thank you, Diana. Christian and I are excited about our first trial."

"Have you found a candidate?"

"Not yet, but we are narrowing down a list of potential candidates."

When the waltz fades into an upbeat tempo, my date leads me back to our table and fetches us fresh glasses of champagne. I drink the sparkling beverage absently and watch the cauldron of dancers loping across the floor.

"Diana? Diana?"

Back in the present, I plaster on a fake smile and focus on the wearisome scientist.

"Victor, how about we leave this snooze fest and go back to my place?" I suggest, caressing his arm.

The seductive gesture is lost on Victor, but he accepts my offer. "Perfect. Let's go."

Moaning, I trail the eccentric doctor out of the cavernous hall and leave the Scientists without Cents benefit behind.

The aroma of nutmeg, lily of the valley, and cedar wood assails the senses the moment I entered my condo. In the living room, perched on my leather sectional and holding a tumbler of cognac, is a tall, muscular man in a tailored dark grey suit.

"It's about time the both of you arrived. I becoming positively bored with my surroundings. Diana dear, you desperately need the services of an interior decorator. The condo is luxurious, but the decor is appalling. It's like putting a burlap sack on a supermodel."

"Fuck off, Leblanc. No one asked for your opinion," Dropping my clutch on the kitchen counter, I pour myself a glass of water and saunter over to the brothers. "How did you get in here, Christian? You can't get in here without my permission."

"It was easy peasy. The doorman remembered me from my frequent visits and let me in."

"Gerry would've never go against protocol. You still had to seek my consent and have a key."

"Well, I persuaded him. And, there's this." Producing a gold key out of his top pocket, Christian's complacent mien tempts me to turn the condescending ass into a donkey. I snatch the key out of his thieving, cold hand.

"How did you...? Forget it, I don't want to know."

"Really, are you sure? It was a simple trick."

"No, you rat bastard, I already know how you did it, and trust me, it'll be your last. However, enough foolishness. I'm glad you're here."

"You are?"

"Yes, because the three of us have serious business to discuss."

"Here I thought you were pleased with my presence because you needed me to gift you the exclusive Christian Leblanc method of stress relief."

"I'll pass. I'd rather have sex with your brother."

The asexual genetic analyst peers up from his magazine, unamused. "Shouldn't we get to business, Diana?"

"Ahem. Yes. Sorry. Christian, how did your introduction to the young prospect go?"

"It went well. I played the perfect suave, charming, and generous philanthropist."

"You think being generous with your money is going to lure her to the Selective?"

"It's a good ruse. It shows that I'm generous and trustworthy. If she accepts my offer, it opens up the door for her to be persuaded to join."

"And if she doesn't accept?"

"Victor and I are working on a plan."

"Which will be?"

"We haven't worked out the details yet, but once we have Plan B finalized, we'll present the plan to you."

"Very well, there is one more thing I want to discuss before you leave."

"Okay, shoot."

"I want your solemn promise that you make sure that no harm comes to The Legend. You must do everything in your power to keep the oath of the Hopkins Selective."

"Of course, Diana. Christian and I take that oath seriously. No injury shall befall the chosen one."

"Good, make sure you keep that promise or face the consequences."

"Of course. Diana, before Christian and I leave, I wish to thank you for agreeing to be my escort to the fundraiser this evening."

"You're welcome, Victor. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Diana."

Christian raises my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers. "Have a restful evening, Madam."

I remove my hand from the shameless womanizer and discreetly wipe it in my dress.

"Thank you, Christian. Rest well."

I watch the Leblanc brothers slither across the street to their waiting town car, with their deceitful aura glowing brightly around them. But even if I can't trust them, they're what I have to work with.

Chapter 10

Declynn

In a dark, moisture-laden basement, I sit with my date and stare at the worn poster of a 1980's band. All around me, the buzz of the party guests mingles into an incoherent jumble. Lewis is sharing a story with his buddies. They roll papers and light them. He passes me a joint. I push it away.

"Come on, babe, have a toke. It'll relax you."

Stoners crowd the claustrophobic space. Some are alone in the corners, lighting up doobies; others are half passed-out on the floor. There are couples in varies state of undress. I have no interest in relaxing.

"Take me home, Lewis. I don't want to be here."

"Aww, come on, don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up. I promised your mother I'd show you a fun time."

"You are currently breaking your promise to her. I'm not having a good time. I'm miserable. Just take me home."

Lewis takes a deep draw of his smoke. "Hang on, I'll get you something to drink. You do drink, don't ya?"

"Of course."

"I'll be right back."

The Pepsi he gives me tastes a little strange, but after the host comments that it must be the ice cubes, I drink it. After the fourth or fifth one, I have a rocking buzz. My date's jokes are suddenly funny, and when he kisses me, I reciprocate. His fingers tangle in my hair as our kiss deepens; I become lost in a haze of passion.

By the time the fog lifts, I'm alone and naked in a stranger's bed. Confused, I dress, stumble downstairs, step over a few passed-out bodies, and stagger home with a headache big enough to knock up a moose.

My mother doesn't scold me when I walk into the house at the crack of dawn. The matchmaker looks pleased as she notices my disheveled appearance. "Had a good time, I see."

"Ah, Mom, I'm sorry I never called you. I fell asleep at the party."

"I agree you should've called. I was worried about you, but I phoned Tracey's parents, and they said you stayed overnight."

"I thought you would be upset for me walking in at this hour."

"You're eighteen years old, Declynn. You can come and go as you choose, as long as your father and I know where you are."

"Dad doesn't share that opinion. He gets upset whenever I'm five minutes late."

"John is just protective of you and Sebastian. He just wants to make sure the both of ye are safe. Would you like some breakfast?"

"No, I just want to take a hot shower and lie down. I'm not feeling well."

"The brown bottle flu would do that to ya. Go on and get some rest. I'll cook you something when you wake up."

Two weeks after my time lapse in the musty basement, I'm feeling incongruous in the sparse but well tended living room that my mother has just finished cleaning to a sheen. A tall, imposing man in a three-piece designer suit sips Mom's special homemade herbal tea and stares at us with purpose.

"Surely you understand, Mrs. Sinclair, the importance of not pursuing this matter further."

"I do, Mayor Michaels, but what your son did was inexcusable."

"I agree it was a foolish stunt, but remember, it was you who was desperate for this date for Declynn."

"A foolish stunt? A guest at the party caught your son putting a powdered substance in my drink...and then..."

Desmond Michaels smile had become a rictus of repulsion. Placing the china cup carefully on the coffee table, he clears his throat to steady his voice.

"Young lady, Lewis didn't rape you. It was consensual."

Red rage tinges the edges of my vision and with my fists clenched, I propel myself at the pompous jerk but my mother restrains me. Lewis's father seems unfazed by my outburst.

"How was it consensual? He drugged me. I didn't know what was going on."

"It's not how Lewis and the other guests recall it. They said that they witnessed you becoming passionate with my son of your own free will."

"I don't care what they thought they saw."

"So you deny that you kissed Lewis and followed him upstairs and had sex?"

"I don't deny it, but..."

"You have no proof that the powdered substance was a drug."

"With all due respect, Mayor, you also have no proof that the powder in my daughter's drink wasn't a drug."

Elizabeth Sinclair sits ramrod straight, her hands folded over the skirt of her buttercup yellow sundress. Mother slips on the upper class mask she was born with and goes nose-to-nose with the pompous arsehole. Her cerulean glare doesn't waver against Mayor Michaels challenge.

"Mrs. Sinclair, I refuse to sit here and argue about something we cannot test. I will, however, ask you to reconsider pursuing legal action. We both know you have no case, even the police have no evidence to charge my son."

"This family will do no such thing. No, criminal charges may not be laid, but we are prepared to do everything in our power to make sure your son faces the consequences of his actions."

"Very well. I'll take my leave, but it would be good for you to remember, Elizabeth, that your case is baseless. It's Declynn's and that so-called unknown-witness' word against my son and a room full of people." Standing, the imperious politician smooths out an imaginary wrinkle in his trousers and leans in. "This nonsense will dissipate, and your family will be left humiliated. Think about that before moving forward."

"You made your point. Good day, Desmond."

I snicker under my breath as Mom flips the bird at the arrogant bastard's retreating form.

"I'm impressed, Mom. You really stood your ground with that angishore."

"Desmond Michaels is nothing but a silveen blowhard. He's all talk."

"Thanks, Mom."

"For what?"

"Defending me. I didn't think you would've believe me when I told you that I was drugged."

"Why wouldn't I? I'm your mother, and it's my job to protect and defend my children."

"But you wanted me to date Lewis..."

"I was happy that your date went well, but any amorous activities you had with that boy had to be voluntary. Having your drink laced with god knows what is criminal. I just can't believe they aren't charging the little prick."

Filling the sink with sudsy water, Mom directs her frustration onto the stubborn stain in the cake pan. I keep myself busy by clearing away the supper table. There's a pall of silence for the remainder of the evening. There's nothing else to be said. I go in search of Sebastian to persuade him to join me at the bar for some musical and alcohol distraction.

Chapter 11

Scarlett

Floating around in an ether of darkness, I'm unsure who or where I am. All I feel is coldness. My eyelids part and I see nothing but a wan yellow light penetrating the gloom. Awareness seeps into my consciousness. I'm lying on a steel table, and my wrist and legs are bound with leather restraints.

Turning my woozy head to the right, I see a hooded individual standing at a workbench, laying instruments on its smooth surface. The glint of an object with a serrated edge reflects in the mirror above.

I struggle against my bindings and kick, claw, and scream. The cloaked person whips around and flashes the object, a large knife.

"Shut up and stop struggling. The ritual will start soon."

"What's going on?"

"Relax, Scarlett. You're raising your blood pressure from unnecessary strain."

Christian's silken baritone caresses my ear before I see his visage appear before me. My promised benefactor taunts me by stroking my hair. A mask of warmth looms over me.

"What do you want? What's going on?"

"You are about to be a part of something extraordinary. You are very special, and are about to grant two people their fondest wish."

"W-what?"

"Simply put, my dear, you are a unique witch. That heart beating inside your chest will grant me and my brother real immorality."

Christian's words become scrambled in my brain, refusing to process his blunt statement. "Aww, look at you, little witch, you look positively befuddled. Don't tell me that your mother didn't explain to you the legend of the seventh of seven?"

"Yes, I've been aware of my birthright. I'm surprised that you know."

"Every vampire has knowledge of the legend. It's a shame it's you."

Christian's hand glides over the length of my body, caressing my exposed flesh. I shiver. Disgust is creeping to the tip of my throat and almost gagging me. The vampire struts over to the person in the tattered hood, whispering, before returning to me. The stranger turns back and continues his work polishing his macabre tools.

"You said that you have a brother. Where is he?"

"Standing behind you."

Father Smith materializes in front of me. The cleric's uniform is gone, replaced by a stylish designer three-piece suit. Shock pins me to the table tighter than the restraints. The breath leaves my lungs as I absorb the realization that my caregiver is a cruel, demented murderer.

"This is a lot to take in, Scarlett. You have learned many truths today, and it's time for this whole smoke and mirrors show to disappear."

Victor summons the slouched figure at the workbench. "Doctor, you may start."

The ghoulish physician cuts open my t-shirt and bra with one swipe of his blade, nicking my skin. Terror seizes my limbs as my heart pounds against my ribcage. I fight to control my rapid breathing. The instrument presses into my flesh.

I shut my eyes and yell,

"Revenge be mine, on this black day, to make my troubles go away. A curse, a pox, a chanted hex; anyone should do, To make both of you understand the harm done by you."

A burst of light exploded in the room, and I hear piercing screams follow. Opening my eyes, I see my tormentors crumpled on the floor, holding their heads in their hands. The scalpel lies just a few inches from my fingers. It takes effort, but I manage to levitate it and cut myself free. I slip down from the table on shaky legs and scamper out the door to freedom.

Chapter 12

Sebastian

My father is waiting impatiently at the wharf, tapping his feet on the weathered boards as I try to give Connie a good-bye kiss.

"Come on me, son, get yer arse in gear. Time waits for no man."

"We can't continue like this. Between Declynn and me helping Dad get ready for fishing, and your job at the restaurant, we never spend any real time together."

"Shhh, Sebastian, you must stop worrying. I understand why you can't spend time with me. I miss you, but I'm grateful for the time we do have."

"I can't help it. It feels as though everyone wants a piece of me, leaving nothing for myself or you. I love and miss you, Connie."

Ignoring my father's glare, Connie pulls me to her by the collar and kisses me breathless. Panting, she lets me go.

"Now, be a good lad and stop worrying. Never mind the quantity; concentrate on the quality." She sneaks a peek at my father, who shoots back a glare while pointing to his watch. "Ah, you better go before your dad blows a top. I'll see you tonight."

With one last chaste kiss and a swat on my behind, my girlfriend disappears over the steps, and I join my annoyed parent aboard our boat.

"She's only holding you back. You're too young to be in such a serious relationship. It's time to let that one go."

Scrubbing the salt water stains off the hull to prepare it for a fresh coat of paint does little to drown out Dad's bull. I dip the scrub brush back into the bucket and continue with my chore. "I hear ya, Dad, but you sound a tad hypocritical. You and Mom were married at my age."

"That was a different time. Besides, your mother was knocked up with the two of ye. Don't make the same mistake," Dad shakes his finger at me. "The future is bright for you, son; don't waste your good looks on one girl."

"Come on, Dad, you know full well you're just saying that because you can't stand her father."

"That's untrue. I have no problem with David Murray. He's done no harm to me."

"Pfft, right. Like you're just fine with the fact that Mr. Murray tried to seduce Mom away from you and almost succeeded? How he likes to lure it over your head how rich he is?"

John Sinclair's eyes narrow, and in an effort to contain his anger, the corners of his lips twitch.

"Enough, son. Don't remind me of the misdeeds of that cocky angishore. We're not talking about him," my father spits. "Take my advice. Dump Connie and start playing the field. They're a lot of beautiful and shapely girls out there that I know for sure are panting over you."

"I don't need another gorgeous girl; I have one already."

"Connie Murray is pleasant enough, but she isn't your type."

"Oh yeah, who is my type?"

"A girl like Shellie O'Ryan, for one."

I thought of the perky stewardess with the flowing curls, bow-shaped lips, smooth alabaster skin, and penetrating emerald stare. Shellie was part of a sought-after chic click in high school, and a shameless flirt. Her hand always seemed to be permanently plastered onto my arse while the other one trailed up and down my arm, squeezing my bicep.

"Harold O'Ryan's daughter? Why her?"

"She's beautiful, successful, and she had a thing for you in high school, didn't she?"

"Shellie had a thing for the entire basketball team. I wasn't anything special. Besides, I heard she's engaged to a pilot."

"Oh. Well, no odds. She's just an example of how many girls would be better suited for you. You just have to look."

"Jesus, Dad. I hate it when you interfere with things that are none of your business. Can't you get it through your thick skull that I love Connie, and I don't want anyone else?"

"Well, forgive me for wanting what's best for my children. The young lady you have now is sweet and certainly looks up to you, but I like her better as Declynn's best friend than your girlfriend."

To escape further scrutiny, I change the topic. "What do you think about Lewis Michaels getting away with what he did to Lynn?"

"That happened three weeks ago. Why ask about it now?"

"Just 'cause you've been away taking care of Aunt Bess doesn't mean the rest of us could ignore it."

"Touché. While it boils my piss that the spoiled, over-sexed brat got away with violating my girl, I'm glad your mother came to her senses."

"Why Dad? Why was letting Lynn's rapist go free a good thing? I want to string the fucker up by his balls."

"Let it go, lad. What's done is done. Besides, as a condition of agreeing to drop the suit, Desmond is making his son go to rehab."

"Rehab? That's a slap on the wrist! You know he's..."

My father's perfunctory glare warns me to drop the now closed subject.

Humming a tune inside my head and take deep breaths to quell my anger, I don't want to say something I regret. My father notices me ignoring him and turns his back, continuing with his painting.

I tackle the stain with vigour.

Chapter 13

Scarlett

The first signs of an early fall arrive with a temperature drop, and I spend it curled up under a bridge, trying to keep warm on a heating grate. I lean my head against the concrete and close my eyes.

"I'm a sparkly fairy, and I'm here to grant wishes. I'm a sparkly fairy." Robin's raspy voice echoes in the night as he prances around, carrying a wooden stick as a makeshift wand. Sliding next to me, my tunnel buddy pats me on the head.

I giggle. So much terror and crushing sadness have happened in a span of a week, it feels good to chuckle, even if was just for a moment.

"Go to sleep, Princess Scarlett. The stars are out."

I glance over at the aging ex-Broadway actor, who befriended me on my first night on the streets, and pick a leaf off his tutu. "I was asleep. You woke me with your proclamations."

"You lie. I saw your eyelids flutter."

"Okay, I lied. Sue me. Did you grant any wishes tonight?"

"Nope. I don't know what's wrong with people. Don't anyone like wishes anymore? One lady even called the police on her magical rectangle."

"Oh no. What did you do?"

"What else? I flew the fuck out of there. She didn't deserve my gift to her." Robin tucks his wand into his tattered trench coat, hugging it close to him.

"Wait. Where's my wish?"

"You didn't ask for one."

"I wasn't given the chance."

"Don't matter; I can't grant you your wish. It's too hard. Though I wish I could."

Curling up on the rusted metal, I close my eyes and try not to think about the desire no one can fulfill.

My brief slumber is interrupted by something cold grazing my nose. Robin stands over me, grinning as he taps me with his stick. With his free hand, he passes me a cup. My numb fingers warm instantly around the Styrofoam.

"I bought us a couple of hot coffees to warm up. I hope you like black. I didn't know how you took it."

The ebony liquid is bitter but hot, and I enjoy each sip. "Thank you. The coffee hit the spot."

"Welcome. What are your plans today?"

"Looking for a warm place to grab a bite and a soft place to sleep," Catching a whiff of my week-old scent, I turn my head away. "And a shower would be good."

"You're right, Princess; you don't smell so royal."

"Listen who's talking, Mr. Freshness. We both could use a shower."

"When you're finished your java, I'm going to take you to the Murphy Street shelter. They may have some beds left. We can get what we need there."

Once we settle onto our cots, Robin waves the stick he uses as a wand and declares that Princess Scarlett may wash her clothes first.

"Why? Isn't there enough washing machines?"

"Dear Princess, there is but one machine left, so I will be gentlemanly and let you go first."

"Why thank you, kind sir." I curtsy before retrieving my bag and hurried toward the laundry room.

An hour later, with my modest wardrobe clean, I stride back to my cot and find Robin gone. I scan the shelter and see no sign of him. I search the shelter, desperate to find my friend, and ask everyone who crosses my path if they saw a man in a purple tutu. It is puzzling why no one saw someone who stood out in a crowd.

A stoic, statuesque woman stops me. A smile parts her lips; her aura is warm. "You seem distraught. My name is Charlotte; I'm the director here. How may I help you?"

"I'm looking for my friend, Robin. He's a little unusual. He wears a tutu and carries a stick; did you see him?"

"I did. Robin is a familiar figure here. Finds his way to this shelter after he wanders from the home."

"The Home?"

"Robin Charlemagne is a resident of the Clearwater Falls retirement home. Robin's family put him there after his dementia diagnosis."

"Where is he now?"

"His daughter and son found him and brought him back. Robin should be settled back into his room by now."

"Does he often stray?"

"He does wander, but the security stops him from leaving the premises most of the time. Sometimes he slips by them."

"I would like to see him. Do you think I'd be allowed?"

"The family may be restricting visitors right now because he needs to readjust to his surroundings after going back on his meds. You can try, though."

Charlotte scribbles down the address on a piece of paper and hands it to me. I thank her and return to my cot, missing my friend.

Chapter 14

Scarlett

Antiseptic mingles with pine cleaner and leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth as I search for Robin's room. Locating it, I see him chatting with another elderly gentlemen, looking as though they are playing a spirited game of cards.

As I knock gently on the door, Robin glances up from his cards and smiles. "Princess Scarlett. Come in. It's good to see you." We briefly embrace before my friend introduces me to his opponent. "Sid, this is the gal I was telling you about."

"You're a pretty one. I have to ask what you see in this dusty antique."

"Shut up, you old turd. Excuse Jimmy, Scarlett. He's an old pervert."

"But a harmless one. Pleased to meet you, Scarlett. I'm Rob's old friend from our WWII days."

Accepting the veteran's hand, I return his firm grip, and we engage in small talk. The game continues for another twenty minutes, until Robin wins.

"That's it; I'm done. It's been fun, you ol' bastard, but I gotta get home. Grandkids are coming over for supper. Have a good day, Scarlett."

"Same to you."

"Go home, you sore loser. Give Casey and Luke a kiss for me."

"Well do. See you tomorrow."

"He's a colourful character."

"Jimmy is a good lad. Saved my life many times." Robin pauses for a moment; his face twisted with some painful memory before returning to normal. "What brings you by?"

"I got worried when I couldn't find you after I came from the laundry room. The director told me who you were."

"Are you upset?"

"No. You have a disease. It's not your fault. I'll just miss you on the street. Who would I have to grant my wishes now?"

"As you recall, I never granted you your fondest wish."

"No one can bring back my family."

"No, but I can give you a home."

"How?"

"My great-nephew is a successful entrepreneur, and I can talk to him about giving you a chance at a job and shelter."

"It sounds marvellous, Robin, but I had an offer like that before, and it didn't work out so well for me. Thank you, though."

Robin's expression reflects his hurt and disappointment. He takes a sip of water and pretends to read the pamphlet on his nightstand.

"I'm sorry, Robin. I know you're just trying to help."

"I am. If you change your mind, let me know. You don't need to live like this."

"What's this, great uncle? Is someone turning down your kindness? Perish the thought."

"Speaking of the devil. Your ears must have been burning. Hello, Elijah."

The sudden appearance of the stranger in the doorway startles me. He joins us in the room. Elijah towers over me. His movements are graceful, and demeanour refined. My friend's nephew is polished and expensive, but the left side of his face is concealed by a thick curtain of his hair.

I offer him my hand in greeting, but he looks at it, ignoring it.

"Good morning, Uncle Robin. I'm relieved to hear that you are back with us and are well."

"I am, but you know how I love my adventures."

"Your adventures are dangerous, Uncle. You intentionally forget to take your meds and end up wandering the streets. One day you are going to get seriously hurt or even killed. Stop doing it, please. Mom is frantic with worry."

"The problem with your mother and this family is that you're a bunch of worry-warts. I have fun on the streets. I feel so confined here."

"I hear you, but you go around pretending you're a fairy and try to grant people wishes. The sad part is you don't remember it."

"That's what you think."

"Are you telling me that you do remember?"

"Of course. It's fun to have people think you're a little nutty."

"That's just it. You aren't insane, but you do have an acute disease that affects your facilities, and you shouldn't play with it."

Robin refuses to respond. Instead, he stubbornly ignores his nephew and walks to the window. "Today is such a pretty day. I wish to take a stroll outside. Do you want to come with me, Princess?"

"Don't ignore me, Robin. You need to take your condition seriously."

"I love this time of year. The scent of the falling leaves. The crispness of the breeze blowing across the skin. Fresh baked goods. Don't you love this time of year, Princess?"

"I do."

"Damn it, he's stubborn as a mule. Fine. Have it your way. I'm leaving."

With his fists clenched at his sides, Elijah storms out of the room, leaving his barely contained frustrations behind him.

Robin's nephew had been nothing but rude and distant with me, but I still feel strangely drawn to him.

"Penny for your thoughts, Princess?" My companion's silvery voice interrupts my train of thought.

"I'm thinking of nothing in particular, just enjoying my surroundings."

There is no sound just the distant call of a crow signalling its mate. Robin slips something inside my hand, and when I see that it's a penny, I chuckle.

"It is nice here at the home."

The rooms aren't the best, but the grounds are landscaped with a variety of flora. Mingled together, they make a pleasant, calming scent. "Robin, I'm confused. You say that you like it here but you still frequently run away. Why escape a place you claim to like?"

"I get bored. I performed on Broadway for thirty years. I travelled the world, rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous. My life was an adventure, and I loved every moment."

"So, this place must feel like a prison."

"It's a nice prison but a suffocating one. I'm eighty years old, and feel my age here, but out there on the street, I feel young! It's difficult giving that freedom up."

"Even if you're putting your life at risk?"

We stop at a stream that flows by the gardens. The timeless adventurer gazes stoically at the rushing water. Lost in thought, Robin doesn't notice me close the gap between us and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. I take the penny from my pocket and press it into his palm.

"My turn."

This lures him out of his daydream. "Hah. You're a funny girl. Fine, I'll give you what you paid for. I was just thinking about the old days and how fleeting time can be. One minute I was a young buck with the world at my feet; the next, I'm an old fart wasting away in a rest home."

"I don't think you're an old fart, and neither do you. You defy age and have proven numerous times that it's just a number. You have a youthful spirit."

Robin turns to me and gathers me in an embrace. "Thank you for setting this fossil straight. I do have a lot of spunk in this ancient body and I'm going to make the best of the time I have left."

"Good; make sure that you do."

"Oh, look at time," Robin comments, looking down at his watch. "I better get inside before the warden sends a search party for me again. Good bye, Princess; come by to see me again."

"I will and I'm glad that you're okay."

With a chaste kiss on my forehead, the timeless senior waltzes away, humming a show tune.

Taking a sharp turn out of the retirement village's garden, I hear my name in the distance.

"Scarlett, wait up."

The familiar figure in designer black strides next to me. His hand grazes my arm. Robin nephew's presence is a little unnerving. He left over an hour ago. Was Elijah waiting for me all this time?

"Please, Scarlett, may I have a moment of your time?"

"Okay. What can I help you with?"

"Do you have some time to grab a coffee and a bite with me? What I wish to discuss isn't something I want to do on the street."

My stomach gurgles, begging me to accept. I fish around in my pocket and am disappointed to find only a quarter.

"I'd love to, but I'm not hungry. May we go somewhere else?"

Elijah studies me for a moment, and much to my chagrin, my tummy growls loud enough for him to hear. Like a gentleman, he pretends not to notice.

"Will you reconsider? My favourite cafe is just around the corner, and it'll be my treat. Consider it a minuscule attempt to make up for being rude to you back there."

First rule that Robin taught me is to be careful who you trust. Relying on the wrong person can get you killed. To assure an individual is trustworthy, my friend taught me to study a person's facial expression, body language, and tone of voice. Combined with trusting my instincts, Robin declared, it's the sure-fire way to detect a liar. Elijah's smile is warm and genuine. His stance is relaxed and his eyes never leave mine. My gut tells me to give Robin's nephew a chance.

"Thank you; I accept."

"All right then. Follow me."

The aroma of fresh baked goodies and coffee penetrates my senses. Smells, sights and sounds of the cozy cafe bring back painful memories of my family and Sunday mornings with my parents. The coffee warms my insides, and the hearty vegetable soup is like heaven to my taste buds.

"Thank you, Mr. Charlemagne. My lunch is delicious."

"Canning."

"Pardon me?"

"My surname isn't Charlemagne. It's Canning."

The heat rises in my cheeks. "I'm sorry I got your name wrong. I just assumed that since Robin was your great-uncle, you'd have the same last name."

"No need to apologize. It's an innocent mistake. I'm glad you are enjoying your food. A full stomach allows for clear thoughts."

"Clear thoughts?"

"Yes, to help you decide to accept my offer. I want to offer you a job and a place to live; on a trial basis, of course."

"Did you just offer me a job and a roof over my head? Forgive me for my skepticism, but like I told Robin, I don't trust spontaneous handouts."

"This is not a handout. You'll have to earn your room and board by coming to work for me as one of my maids for a period of two weeks. If you work out, I will consider you for longer if you choose to stay."

"Forgive me for being blunt, but may I ask how much it pays?"

"For the trial period, I will not pay you any wages, but provide you with room and board."

"And when the trial period ends?"

"If I'm pleased your work, and if you choose to stay, I will put you on the payroll, and you can continue to live at my residence until you find your place."

"You don't have any live-in employees?"

"It's my preference not to have anyone in my home after hours. I require privacy. Even my personal assistant has her home, and she's with me twelve to sixteen hours a day. Is this agreeable?"

"Yes, Mr. Canning, I accept. Thank you."

"Are you willing to come with me now? I would like you to start as soon as possible."

"I will, if you don't mind answering one more question."

"I do my best."

"Why were you still at the retirement home after I left? I thought you have gone."

"I apologize for starling you. I did leave the home and was nearly at my villa when I told my driver to return me to Golden Acres. I thought about Robin's proposal and how uncouth I was toward you. I was mistaken to dismiss the idea."

"I accept your apology, Mr. Canning."

"Thank you. Please follow me to your new home."

I wipe the remnants of my lunch from my lips, then grab my coat and follow Elijah.

The panoramic view from the tinted windows of the second-story window of Elijah's sprawling estate is breathtaking. Rolling emerald hills blanketed by a rainbow of exotic flowers and vegetation accent the marble statues of beautiful maidens in various poses and states of undress.

"You like my garden, Scarlett?"

"Your villa and gardens are stunning, Mr. Canning. Thank you for this opportunity."

"You're welcome."

Elijah escorts me through the vestibule, lined with family portraits to a small room at the end. The room is modest; soft cream walls with a simple painting of the villa over a brass four-poster brass bed and a matching night table.

"It should suit your needs. The bathroom is across the hall. Go in and check it out."

My bare feet sink into the plush carpet. I trail my fingers along the lace trim of the spread. The view from the simple, small window is stunning.

"Before I tell you the rules of the household, I need to ask you a favour."

"Of course, Mr. Canning."

"Since I'm a private person, I typically don't personally hire and welcome new employees into my home, let alone show them to their quarters. I ask you to please don't share this with the other employees."

"You have my word, Sir."

"Much appreciated."

Elijah steps over the threshold and opens the wardrobe on the far side of the room.

"Here is the space for your belongings. I'm aware that you don't have much, but in the drawer you can find the basics. Toothbrush, hairbrush, soap, and shampoo. In the bathroom, there are plenty of towels if you wish to have a shower."

"Again, thank you, but what do you require as a dress code?" I was wearing all I had—jeans, a torn blouse, and a second-hand hoodie.

"Anna will supply you with fresh underthings and two uniforms tomorrow. She will describe all your duties and introduce you to the others. The rules are few and simple. Get used the layout of the gardens, as some of your duties will require taking care some of the grounds." Elijah wanders over to the window and gestures to the gardens. "You may not have any friends on the premises, but family may visit with proper notice."

It isn't intentional, but his comment makes my stomach flop and my heart stutter. Tears burn behind my eyelids. I blink them away, but a whimper escapes before I can stop it.

"Are you all right, Scarlett?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you don't have to worry about any family coming to visit, I don't have any."

"No?"

"My parents and siblings are all gone. They died several months ago. I'm alone."

My new employer hand grazes my shoulder, and concern flashes across the uncovered part of his face. "I'm sorry to hear of your tragic loss. It's heart-wrenching to lose so much in such a short period."

"Thank you."

"I have a meeting. Anna will take over your care tomorrow, but I do hope you be happy here. Good evening."

"Good Evening, Mr. Canning."

Elijah slips out the door, closing it behind him. Sitting on the bed, I drink in my surroundings and hope I will make this my new home.

Chapter 15

Declynn

Clutching another forbidden letter to my chest, I slip by my mother and father, disappear into my room, and carefully shut the door. Tearing open the envelope, I shake the contents onto my bed. I hold the crisp paper in my hand, feeling the weight and glance over each line of elegant cursive. My mother forced me to throw out a similar letter like this weeks ago, but I salvaged this one. Wiping a tear from my eye, I read the magical words over and over.

Dearest Declynn,

Watching the crimson-orange dusk fades into the dark, I remember the secret evenings when we'd look at the sunset. The stars that dot the ebony sky remind me of the diamond I put on your finger. It's lonely without you, my love. Our golden retriever puppy Charlie is curled up in my lap, sleeping peacefully. He waits for your return. As do I. I pray that your mother will accept that our love is as pure as anyone. I'm tired of sneaking around, stealing time and kisses undercover. My family is anxious for you to become a part of ours. The thought of having a regular life is what keeps me going.

Enough gloom; I have good news. I found a great part time job at a bookstore that will help with bills while I attend university. I can't wait for you to move into the city so we can live together and be a real couple.

I must go now; Charlie is at the door for our 'date'.

Good night, sweetheart. Give Sebastian my love.

Love always,

Alexandria

This letter is proof of how far Alex and I have come since that horrific night three years ago. My mother did everything she could to keep us apart, but after the initial disgrace, me and Alex reconciled and started meeting in secret. Our clandestine relationship is only known about by her family, who didn't listen to my mother's threats of damnation, embracing us instead.

My fingers drift to my neck, and locate the antique diamond ring looped at the end of a golden chain warmed by my skin. The simple gold band with cluster diamonds is a Ryan family heirloom, and was owned by Alex's grandmother.

We haven't decided on a wedding date, but it will be after we graduate college.

Tearing out a piece of notebook paper, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, so I'm forced to scribble a reply.

Dearest Alexandria,

I hear footsteps, so this letter has to be brief. It may be one of the few chances I get to write to you. While I too, long for the day when we will be married, we just have to be content with brief moments like this. Everything in your letter sounds like heaven, even our new pup. I've been through a lot lately, things that require more time and detail that I can afford. Just know that Connie and Sebastian have seen me through a tough patch, and I'm on the mend.

I promise you will be kept apprised of what's going on in my life through Connie. She has agreed to write you letters frequently, and when I can, I will sneak a letter in or two. In the meantime, remember I love you.

Sebastian sends his love back.

Love always,

Declynn

I finish the letter and stuff it into an envelope just before the door opens, and my mother informs me that supper is ready. Tucking the letter under my blanket, I follow Mom into the kitchen and join my family.

"The shit is going to hit the fan if Mom finds out that you wrote your lover."

Sebastian holds a lighter to my letter to Alexandria. Snatching it out of his hands, I drop the envelope into the mail. "I don't care what our mother thinks. She can't stop my relationship with Alex. We're going to get married when she comes back."

"Our parents will disown you."

"Do you support Alex and me?"

"Yes, of course, I support your relationship. I'm just looking out for you."

"Yours and Connie's support is all I need. I don't care about anyone else. End of discussion; I want to go play."

The grip around my waist is constrictive. Breath potent with a mixture of oak and garlic stings my neck as the husky voice attempts its seduction.

"Hey, babe. Long time, no see. What have you've been doing with your smokin' self?" Lewis Michael's unwanted interruption in my conversation with my brother irks me, and I do my best to ignore him.

"You missed a chord or two on 'Mussels,' Bass. I think we need to practice a couple of more times before our next performance."

"The crowd was too drunk to notice a slip or two."

"Still, we need to practice more."

Lewis isn't bothered by me refusing to acknowledge him, and continues to caress my hair, blowing on my neck while pressing his desperation into my behind. Sebastian's expression grows stern, and he clenches his fist, but I place a reassuring hand on his knee. My brother pulls back for the moment.

"What are you doing here, Lewis? I thought that your kind didn't associate with the peasants." I point to the beer in his free hand. "And I thought you were going to rehab?"

"When I heard that the irresistible Declynn Sinclair was performing tonight, I made the exception. I have to admit you are quite good. As for rehab, I'm starting next week."

"That's because Sebastian and I are the best in the province. Now, if you don't mind, get your cock outta my arse so we can go home."

"Why? You didn't complain the last time I had my dick up your ass. As I recall, you fucking loved it. It's only a matter of slipping out of here, and I can give you more."

"Get your fucking hands off my sister, you prick." Sebastian leaps to his feet and throws a sucker punch to the pervert's jaw. He topples backward, his head striking the wall behind him. My brother stalks toward the pompous jackass, hands clenched and ready.

Not caring about what could happen to his precious assets, Sebastian takes another swing at Lewis, but he blocks the accordion player, twisting his wrist. The audible snap reverberates throughout the bar. My heart sinks and my stomach lurches as Sebastian drops to his knees, howling in pain.

"Oh my fuck, Sebastian. Are you okay?"

"G-go. I'll handle this."

"Straight up, fag; your sister is coming home with me."

The drunkard grasps my arm, but I dig my nails into his hand and kick him in the skins. He falls to his knees, screaming, cradling his bleeding hand.

"Ahhhh, bitch! You'll fucking pay for that."

Helping Sebastian to his feet, we exit the bar amongst applause, cheers and a chorus of "Way to go", and "That's showing the prick."

"Come on, I better bring you to the clinic. You need that hand looked at."

"Sounds fine. What about you, are you okay?"

"I'm shaken up a bit. I wasn't expecting to see the bastard again. I guess we got the better of him."

"Yeah, no one can survive the Sinclair tag team. Heh. Oww. Fuck, that hurts." Sebastian's hand is swollen and turning three shades of purple.

"Thanks for defending me back there, even though I could've handled him myself. It must've been hard fighting with Lewis like that."

"Lewis isn't the same guy I used to buddy around. He changed into a spoiled rich prick who thinks his shit don't stink."

"Trust me, it does."

"Bwahahaha! Ow." He snorted, and cringed in intense pain. "Oh. I think I just pissed my drawers."

"Ewww, Bass. That's gross."

"Excuse me? My music career may be over because I defended your honour, and all you can go on about is my wet underwear?"

"But it is gross."

"Aw, shut your gob and drive."

Chapter 16

Diana

"I've done my part, and step three is in progress. The Selective is closer to obtaining its precious acquisition."

The award-winning actor gazes out at the panoramic view of the city skyline.

"What's on your mind, Robin?"

I follow his stare to a distant edifice speckled with multi-coloured lights.

"That's a stunning structure, my favourite in Montreal."

"Mine too. The Foley Centre of the Arts has been the centrepiece of the arts community for seventy-five years. It's where I performed countless plays and musicals in my tenure."

"I remember seeing a few shows there as a kid. You're were always my favourite actor."

"Thank you. You were my favourite fan from the moment we met." He chuckles fondly, and recites the memory, as if showing off that he's still together, still has a steady mind. "You were just nine or ten when your mother took you backstage to meet the cast of West Side Story. You were so quiet and shy, hiding behind your mother, too scared to say hello. I got you to talk though."

I remind him, smiling, "I was so excited to meet you that I felt tongue tied. My mother scolded me for that when we got home. As one of the centre's benefactors, it was embarrassing for her daughter to be rude to the lead."

"You weren't rude, Diana. Just a normal little girl overwhelmed by meeting her favourite actor."

"Yes, but you made me feel at ease by making one of the props sing me my favourite song."

"Heh. Heh. That silly song went a long way in pulling you out of your shell. I miss those days."

"Yeah, I can see why. You lived a life of glitz and glamour and a secret life that no one else knew about."

I close the gap between Robin and me and watch the ebb and flow of traffic beneath me.

"We've done well," says Robin at last, roughly. "I won't have many regrets."

I lose myself in quiet reflection.
Chapter 17

Sebastian

The doctor predicted that after the cast comes off, and with some intensive therapy, I'll be able to play the accordion again. In the meantime, it feels as though a huge part of me is missing.

My father was none too pleased about my injury. Said it was I deserved for starting the fight. "Our hands is how we make our living, son, and we must protect them. How fucking stunned are ya to risk your livelihood like that?"

"I was defending Declynn, Dad. That jerk was harassing her."

"I understand, but there were better ways of going about it. Walking away would've been a better option. Next time, do that. Now, come with me; we still got a lot to do before we head out."

"Dad, I can't help you. Not with this hand."

"That's no excuse. You still got the good one. So, come on. We got work to do."

"Yes, sir."

My father returns home to get some sleep and leaves me on the dock to finish painting the wheelhouse. Illumination from the full moon is the only light. I'm about to put the last brush of paint on the door frame when the brush falls out of my hand.

"Cursed de Jayus." Picking up the brush with my shaky hand, it drops from my grasp again, but this time it doesn't clatter to the floor. Instead, it lands in a gloved hand.

"I believe this is yours." The paint brush tumbles from his hand, and I catch it.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The silhouette stands on the dock, his gloved hands tucked away in the pockets of his black trench coat. I squint in the darkness, attempting to make out the stranger's features, but they are obscured by a wide-brimmed hat.

"Forgive me for prying, sir, but are you lost?"

"No, but why do you ask?"

"It's unusual for someone other than fishermen to be on the docks this time of night, and you don't look like you are one."

"Heh. You're right, young man. I'm not. I'm visiting your beautiful province, and while I was out for a walk, I noticed the fine craftsmanship on this vessel. I was compelled to take a closer look."

"Interested in longliners?"

"Boats of every genre. Fishing vessels, yachts, race boats, commercial vessels, etcetera. If it floats, I'm fascinated by it."

"May I inquire what attracted you to our boat?"

"The colour, design and the name. D & S Elizabeth. Unusual."

"My father designed this boat himself. As for the name, D is for my sister Declynn. S is for Sebastian, and Elizabeth is my mother's name."

"You're Sebastian, I assume?"

"Yes."

"Pleasure to meet you, Sebastian."

I extend my hand in welcome, but the stranger ignores the gesture. Instead, he circles the boat, studying it carefully. The cloaked figure descends onto the ship without asking permission. His gloved hand caresses the wheelhouse, but his attentions focus on me. Nausea churns at my insides as the eccentric stranger gaze drinks me in, from my baseball hat to my tattered sneakers.

"Such a perfect specimen."

"Pardon?"

"The boat. The boat is the perfect specimen. Does your father design vessels for a living?"

"No, only this one. My dad is a full-time fisherman. Why do you ask?"

"I'm considering buying a boat as a business venture."

"You wish to get into the fishery? Do you have experience? 'Cause it's not something you can just jump into."

"I understand. I'm a businessman involved in many different enterprises. I didn't enter any of them without months or not years of research and planning. I already have an experienced crew and captain. I just need the boat."

"Sorry for underestimating you."

"Think nothing of it. I'd like to request a meeting with your father about the possibility of hiring him as a consultant for the design. He'll receive generous compensation."

"I promise to let him know, but he's not available right now; busy with the season."

"Thank you. Here's my card. I'll await his call. Have a good evening, young man."

Slipping the card into my jeans, I wish the freakish gentlemen good night and return to my chore.

Declynn holds the end of her bed tight in an attempt to keep herself upright. Tears stream down her cheeks, leaving a trail of black streaks.

"It's not funny. Stop laughing."

"Bwahahahah hah! H-how can I not laugh? Scoff at the fact that you had a queer hit on you? That's the funniest thing I heard all day." My twin is rendered useless as her breath is stolen from laughter. "Fuck me. Welcome to this side of the fence, bro. When is your first date with the mysterious old geezer?"

"Shut up and help me pack. We leave early in the morning."

"You sure you don't want your lover to do it for you?"

Disregarding my twin's comments and teasing, I throw sweaters, jeans and underwear into the bag; the man's words keep echoing in my mind.

The distant caw of seagulls and the rumbling of engines greet my father, sister and me as we stride down the wharf to our boat. For an hour, we pack our supplies in silence before we say our final goodbyes to Mom and Connie.

As Connie and Declynn embrace each other, I wait patiently for my turn. Connie, aware of my father's distaste for our relationship, pulls me into a burning kiss. Memories of the early morning hours with my girlfriend curled by my side, after a passionate send-off coupled with the kiss, heat my skin.

"I'll miss you. Please hurry back."

"I'll be back soon as I can. I love you."

"Take care out there, and also make sure you bring back my best friend too."

"Come on, b'y, that's enough eatin' the face off your girlfriend. We gotta go."

"I better get goin' before the old man blows his top. Bye."

"Bye. Stay safe."

Blowing Connie a kiss and waving good-bye to my mother, I step out on the deck next to Declynn. We gaze out at the rocky shores of Stoker's Cove and enjoy the sting of the ocean spray.

Chapter 18

Scarlett

Anna stands on the threshold of the kitchen, waiting for me to finish polishing the last of the silverware. Folding the gleaming antique forks, knives and spoons in their velvet pouch, I follow my supervisor into her office.

"Looks like your two weeks are up already, Scarlett. How did you find your time here?"

"I enjoyed every minute. It's nice having the privilege of earning my keep."

"Would you like to continue earning your keep?"

"I would, yes."

"I've been pleased with your work, your demeanour around the staff, and the way you respect our employer's privacy. Mr. Canning is quite pleased as well, and wishes you to stay, pending my approval, of course."

"I assume you approve?"

"Definitely. I will put you on the payroll. Now that you're paid staff, you will receive health and vacation benefits. The same rules apply, and your duties will remain the same." Clearing her throat, the seasoned domestic continues. "You will also be expected to look for a place to live as soon as possible. Do you understand?"

"I do. Mr. Canning was clear when he honoured his uncle's favour."

"Good. Now all that's left is for you to sign some papers, and you are free to go upstairs and meet with Mr. Canning."

"Pardon? Did you just say that Mr. Canning wishes to see me? I thought he didn't deal with household matters; you do."

"While that is true, our employer has made an exception for you. He feels that since he brought you here personally, he will meet with you sporadically. You have a problem with his request?"

"No, not at all. I'll meet with him as soon as we're finished."

After signing a dozen or so papers containing jargon I didn't understand, I ascend the stairs to the boss's bedroom. Knocking on Elijah's door, I wait patiently for his permission to enter.

"Come in."

The room is quiet and dark, lit only by a small lamp on a nightstand. Elijah is lounging on a wingback chair, an open book perched on his lap. My employer doesn't acknowledge me right away. He continues to read while sipping from a cup. I stand in silence; my hands clasp in front of me and I stare straight ahead, waiting.

"Have a seat, Scarlett; we have many things to discuss."

Elijah's toneless voice sent alarm bells off in my head. It's reminiscent of being sent to the principal's office. I take a seat in the indicated chair and take silent breaths to calm my nervousness.

Closing the book and placing his empty cup on the nightstand, my new employer turns to face me.

"Anna has told me that she has hired you full-time. How do you feel about that?"

"I feel blessed, Mr. Canning."

"That's what I like about you, Scarlett. You get to the point. Nothing I despise worse than a rambler. I don't have time for it."

"My father believed that life was too short and precious to be wasted on nonsense."

"Your father was a smart and sensible man. I have no doubt he had taught you well. That's why I want to offer you something more."

"Something more, sir?"

"Anna has told you that you will continue on with the same duties?"

"Yes."

"She's correct, but I'm afraid Anna hasn't been completely honest with you. I requested your presence because I want more of you."

"May I ask what you mean by that?"

"You look worried; please don't be alarmed. I wish nothing sexual of you."

"I didn't think that it was, Mr. Canning."

"You don't have to lie, Scarlett. It's understandable. I did say I want more of you. Nonetheless, I would like you to become my personal caregiver."

"I thought Anna was your personal caregiver?"

"She is. As you know, Anna is in charge of running this household and is my private caretaker. But she's facing a family crisis and needs to retire, leaving her position open."

"Forgive me for being forward, but why me? Why not any of your other household staff? I have no experience."

"While that is true, Anna feels that because of your attentive and compassionate nature and strict attention to detail, you'll be a suitable replacement. In addition, you and I have established a personal rapport."

"I don't know what to say. It's quite flattering to receive such faith."

"Just accept."

"May I ask the details of the position?"

"Anna will explain your duties, but I will tell you the requirements."

"Okay."

"Our relationship will be a combination of professional and intimate. It will be good practice to call me Elijah and maintain eye contact. I need you with me for no less than twelve hours a day. Still interested?"

"Yes, Elijah, I am."

"Very well, you'll start in the morning. Good night, Scarlett."

"Good night, Elijah."

Murmurs buzz from the kitchen as I pass by on my way to the gardens with my watering can and preening shears. Marg, the maid I trained under; Matt, the chef; and Jamie, Elijah's driver and mechanic, sit around the island drinking coffee. Instead of looking jovial, they appear to be irate.

"I can't believe that Mr. Canning chose that child to be Anna's successor. What can the little snot do? She has zero experience."

"I know, Marg. That job should've gone to you. You have more seniority than the rest of us."

"I agree with Jamie, Marg. You came here the same time Anna did."

"That right, Matt. I was hired as the Canning's maid the day that Anna was employed to be Elijah's nanny. I'm more qualified than that child."

"That may be the case, but this job requires one-on-one contact. Can you tell me how many times you saw Mr. Canning, let alone spoke with him?"

"Fine, Jamie, you have a point. Still, Scarlett doesn't know him at all. The only reason that the newb even has a job is because of Robin."

"Maybe Robin has something to do with it, but that chick is a looker. I bet she lets the boss bang her, and that's how she can 'take care' of him."

"You're disgusting, Matt. You're probably right, but disgusting."

Matt and Jamie fist bump and return to their coffee, leaving me reeling.

I take my gardening supplies and work through my frustrations on the flowers and plants. Thorns cut into my palms as I dig the last hole for the rose bush. Out of the blue, notice someone monitoring me. My intuition directs my gaze to the second story window. Between the slit in the curtain, a visage is barely visible. I shudder.

"Did Anna instruct you how I want my bath water?"

"I tested the water with the thermometer, Elijah. It's the temperature that Anna told me you preferred."

Taking the thermometer from my hand, he studies the digital numbers on the screen. Satisfied, he places it on the sink.

"My limbs aren't working as they should this evening. Would you please help me disrobe?"

Slipping off the silk dressing gown and pyjamas, I avert my eyes as I remove his underwear and place them in a neat pile on the chaise lounge.

"You don't need to look elsewhere, Scarlett. I told you our relationship would be intimate, and seeing me nude will be one of the aspects. Do you feel uncomfortable?"

"I do."

"Why? Haven't you seen a man naked before?"

"No, never."

Elijah stares into my eyes and refuses to look away as I ease him into the tub. It's like he's daring me to indulge further. Disregarding his subtle, mild intimidation, I proceed to lather my employer. Elijah is persistent.

"Why haven't you seen a man naked? You're a young, attractive woman. I would imagine you have had many boyfriends."

"I never dated before."

"I apologize for your discomfort, but because of my condition, it's one of your responsibilities."

"I know it's a necessary part of my job. If you have patience with me, I'll get used to it. I promise."

"Are you sure? I don't wish to hire another just for bathing and dressing because I'm uncomfortable with strangers, but I will if it's your desire."

"I'm sure. I'm done. Do you wish to get out or do you want to soak for a little longer?"

"The water is getting cold. Please help me out."

Elijah's arms and legs shake as I help him out onto the fluffy mat. I wrap a towel around him and put on his robe, guiding the proprietor of one of the nation's most successful finance investment companies to his bed. As Elijah sits still while I tenderly dry him, I notice a series of deep scars zig-zagging down his back and across his chest. Hiding my alarm, I finish my task and dress him.

"Thank you. That was refreshing and relaxing. You're quite gentle, Scarlett. I'm looking forward to my massage tomorrow. I enjoy those magic hands."

"I appreciate your confidence. How is your dessert?"

"It's delicious. That's all for tonight. You're free to go. Have a pleasant night."

"Same to you. Good night."

Exhausted, I collapse, sprawling my weary body across my simple but comfortable bed. My desire for sleep is hard to fulfill, despite my depleted energy. The images of those scars hover on the edge of my memory. I need to know the story behind them and why Elijah keeps his left profile obscured.

From somewhere deep within my consciousness, ear-splitting shrieks reverberate, jarring me awake. It takes me a few moments to realize that the howling is real, and it's coming from Elijah's room. I scramble out of bed and rush to his side.

"Oh, n-nooo, please make it stop! Please don't. I'll do anything you want, but please stop. Please!"

With his eyes shut tight and hands over his ears, Elijah is curled in the fetal position across his bed. I release the silk sheets around his legs and climb into bed with him.

"Elijah, it's me, Scarlett. You're going to be okay. I'm here."

Still in the throes of his nightmare, Elijah pushes me away. "Get away from me. Get away!"

"Shhh, Elijah. It's just me, Scarlett. I'm not going to hurt you. It's all right."

Embracing the traumatized man tight, I rock him as I whisper a calming spell into his ear.

"In this time and this space,

make his dreams a peaceful place.

In this time and this space,

make his dreams a quiet place."

Within moments, Elijah's body stills and he drifts off to sleep. I cover him back up and turn to go back to my room, but I feel a tug on my arm.

"Come to bed with me, Scarlett."

"Elijah? I thought you were asleep."

"I never truly sleep after the nightmare. Though my screaming leaves me exhausted."

"You remember screaming?"

"I've been having these bad dreams for so long that I don't have to remember the screaming to know that I do. You calmed me. I don't know how you did it, but I feel tranquil now. Thank you."

"You're welcome. If you're okay, I better get back to bed and rest. I need to be at my best."

"Don't go. Lay with me."

"I can't, Elijah. It's not appropriate."

"Please, Scarlett. I just need a warm body to hang onto for one night. I'm serene, but the hidden fear of the nightmare returning is still there. Nothing will happen; you have my word."

Elijah's expression is neutral, but I can sense his distress. He pleads with me to stay, just to hold him until the morning.

I comply.

Soft moaning rouses me from sleep. I stretch and scan for the source. At first, I'm confused. The room looks nothing like mine. The bed is a large four-poster canopy. Silk sheets wrap around my bare legs, and the wind is softly blowing through the thick drapes. Water is running, and Elijah leans against the wall, his gait laboured and unsteady.

Leaping out of bed, I wrap my arm around his waist and help him to the bed.

"Elijah, what are you doing? Why didn't you wake me up? I would've helped you."

His tortured frame settles into the bed with a gasp. "I didn't have the heart to disturb you from your sleep."

"Your joints are swollen out of shape this morning. Let me get your pills."

"While you're up, could you please turn off my bath?"

"You drew your bath? I'm sorry that I didn't fill the tub for you."

"It's fine. After last night, I can forgive you sleeping in."

Rushing about, I pour Elijah a glass of cool water, retrieve his pills, and turn off his bath. He has trouble swallowing his medicine, and I have to get extra water. After a bath, I help feed him his breakfast and settle him back into his bed.

"I'm okay now. Why don't you take an hour or so for yourself? I believe you still have to shower and have breakfast?"

"You sure you're okay? The shower can wait."

"The shower may, but by that gurgling in your stomach, eating can't. Please, go and take some time."

"I promise I will not be long."

Feeling rejuvenated, I saunter back to Elijah's room with a fresh bouquet of roses, but am stopped by Marg.

"We have to talk."

"Can it wait for later? Elijah is expecting me."

"No, it can't, because this is about the boss."

"Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

"Not here; in your room." Marg remains standing as she orders me to sit. Her stern expression is chilling.

"We are in my room now and have privacy. What could be so important that it couldn't wait?"

"I want to let you know that I see what you are, and I don't like it."

"I'm confused. What do you mean you know what I am?"

"I know you're not this innocent homeless girl you claim to be. You're nothing but a gold-digging slut, and I'm going to call you out to the boss."

"Pffft. Excuse me, but what gave you that impression?"

"Don't be coy. The staff and I notice how fast you found your way into Elijah's bed."

"If you're referring to this morning, I was only there because Elijah had a nightmare, and he needed help."

"Likely story. What I observed was more than you claim."

"How was it more?"

"The way that the sheets were tangled around your naked body and how Elijah watched you with barely-contained lust."

"Look, believe what you want, but it's the truth. If you are done with your inquisition, I will go. Elijah needs me."

Pushing past my accuser, I head to Elijah's room, but not before hearing one last threat.

"You think you got away with it, bitch, but sooner or later the truth will come out, and I'm going to enjoy seeing you go down. You mark my words."
Chapter 19

Declynn

The island is shrouded in mist, and shrieking noises pierce my senses. Monster shadows loom overhead, but I have no choice. I have to continue clawing my way forward; this desolate habitat is my only salvation. I inch my way up the beach with sand and debris sticking to my wounds. It is a long process, but finally, as the sun sets, I reach my destination and collapse inside of a cave.

It doesn't matter where I am. The only thing I can do is pass out from exhaustion.

A pleasant vision materializes before me, warming my numb body, soothing my chaotic mind. I'm laughing with my brother as we join our father aboard the vessel that bears our name.

The ocean spray stings my face, and my muscles strain under the weight of the net filled with cod. Opening the net and dumping the catch into the locker, we repeat this process until all the nets are empty. Exhausted, the three of us tuck into some good grub and fall asleep on our bunks.

Before long, terror bleeds into that pleasant memory and seizes my brain, holding my body hostage against the cold stone ground that serves as my respite.

A massive, swirling black cloud looms like a dark demon in the horizon, resting there frozen, tormenting us. "Declynn," my father urges. "Quickly, raise the mast. Sebastian, haul up the anchor. It's time to steer away from the squall."

Neither of us has a chance to move before the gale twists itself into a funnel and speeds towards us, bearing down. We have no time to prepare before the dark mass swallows us whole and spits us deep into the waves. As though it's satisfied, the storm melts into the horizon.

Waves rise from the depths of the ocean to drag us beneath. I struggle in the sense-stealing vacuum, thrashing my arms and legs until I miraculously break the surface. The frigid temperature pierces my skin like a thousand tiny knives. The water consumes my body and fills my lungs repeatedly until my mind is clouded with nothing but the primal instinct to survive.

A cry penetrates through my dulled mind, snapping me to attention. My gaze searches until I locate the source of the horrendous cry and find my father screaming.

"Help! Help!" My dad's voice pleads me to save him as he struggles to stay afloat. Finding the strength, I swim to help my captain. A rogue wave sweeps my father under just before I can reach him. Sebastian refuses to let me fall into despair, reminding me that we have to fight to survive.

"We must try to l-live. M-mom needs us."

Taking Sebastian's advice, I flail my leaden limbs and strive to live. Not for my mother, but for Alex.

Something warm and moist caresses my lips. Slowly, my eyes open and I stare into the black eyes of a rat. Shrieking, my muscles and injuries protest as I sit upright. The rodent scurries away. It takes a few minutes for me to calm and gather my wits. Once I do, the memories of the nightmare flood my mind. For the first time, it dawns on me: where is my brother?

Chapter 20

Sebastian

The gust of wind that blankets me seems to be calling my name. Curling into the fetal position in order to fight off the biting cold does nothing to block out the sound of my name.

"Sebastian! S-Sebastian?"

Rising to my knees despite my body's protest, I turn my head in search of the sound and find that it is coming from the cave. Inch by agonizing inch, my battered limbs make the arduous journey to the entrance of the cavern.

"Ah uh ah uh. H-hello? Who's there?"

"Sebastian?"

It took a moment for the voice to register. "D-Declynn?"

A lone figure stumbles out of the shadows and onto her knees in front of me. Her chapped swollen lips turn into a half-smile. "You made it. Thanks be to God."

Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, I open my mouth, but all that comes out is a strangled cry. "Lynn!" We embrace, cry and sob in each other's arms, the emotions of our ordeal overwhelming us. My twin and I cling to each other for dear life like we're drowning again.

"Where do you think we are?"

"I haven't a clue, but it looks like a deserted island."

We walked carefully around the island's perimeter; its rugged coastline seemed uninhabited, save for a few small wild animals.

"We have no supplies or provisions, Bass. I haven't a clue how we are going to get off this island."

"I think that we need to concentrate on finding a way to survive on this island until help arrives. Inevitably, the moment the news of our disappearance gets back home, someone will come looking for us."

"I hope you're right. Until then, let's make a plan."

"Okay. We need shelter, food, and fresh water."

The determined castaway rises to her feet and helps me up. "Okay, brother, let's get to work."

Four weeks later, my arms are laden with driftwood as I tumble through the thicket and back out into clearing. Declynn is mumbling under her breath as she struggles with catching our supper.

Shimmering blue water laps at her thighs as she attempts to lance a fish with a crude wooden spear. "Lord thundern' dine Jayus, fuck it. Come on, you bastard, die already."

"Maybe if you talk nice to the fish it would jump into your hands."

Without deferring her mission, my sassy sister flips me the bird. "Shut up and help."

"As a fishermen's daughter, you'd think you'd know how to catch a fish. It's downright embarrassing."

Strutting over to my sister, I swipe the weapon from her hands, and within minutes, we are roasting fresh fish on the fire. The seafood meal is primitive and virtually tasteless without mother's special seasoning and drawing butter, but it silences the growling in my stomach.

Thinking about the savoury flavour of my mother's home-cooking, family get togethers, good times with friends and Connie's embrace turns a pleasant moment melancholy.

"Thinking about home?"

Back in the moment, I observe Lynn's solemn expression. Her thoughts seem as far away as mine.

"I am. How 'bout you? Homesick?"

Slowly twirling a piece of scarlet hair around her fingers, my normally vivacious twin gazes wistfully into the horizon.

"I don't miss Stokers Cove. I hated that dump, but I miss Connie and Alex."

"We see them again, I'm sure of it."

"I appreciate your optimism, I don't think that's going to happen any time soon."

"There's always hope, Lynn. No matter how grave the situation."

Declynn bites her bottom lip in an effort to restrain the sarcasm burning on her tongue.

"Bass, I appreciate your attempt to turn our dire straits into something good, but to me, it's impossible."

The apparition of my father's hand rising out of the water and his pleas being washed way with the waves flashes before me. The anguish of his violent death had been pushed to the inner recesses of my mind to concentrate on survival. My grief resurfaces with a vengeance.

My sister's warm hand grasps mine. Twin tears streak down my cheeks and mingle with Lynn's in the sand.

"He was a bastard at times, but I loved him. He didn't have to die that way."

"I know, Bass. John Sinclair was a judgemental prick sometimes, but I know he loved us and wanted the best."

A guttural growl from behind us interrupts our mournful reflection.

"Grrrrr."

"Bass, what kind of gut you got on ya? Are you still hungry? You devoured that entire fish and scarfed down those berries like they were going out of style."

"It must be you. I'm not hungry."

The low growl resonates from the woods behind us.

"What in the fuck is that?"

"I'm not sure. Be quiet and let's go check it out."

Creeping in the direction of the noise, Declynn, and I notice two tiny floating spheres staring at us. At first, they are still, as though they are watching us like eyes. Not sure of what to do, we are rooted in our spot, scarcely breathing.

The glowing orbs dance towards us, accompanied by the same rumbling snarl. Then the mystery object bursts through the woods and pounces.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Bass, it's a fucking black bear! Run."

Spinning around, we bolt through the coppice. Branches slap me in the face and limbs as I leap over stumps and try not to fall flat on my face, becoming this monster's dinner.

"No shit. I'm not exactly in the mood to be his grub job!"

With the beast upon our heels, the world seems to zoom past us. Refuge seems non-existent as we continue to flee. Out of the blue, a few feet from the clearing that serves as our shelter, a tiny ramshackle cabin appears from nowhere.

"I didn't see this before, have you, Bass?"

"No. It's strange we didn't notice it before."

"Well, I'm not arguing the absence of its existence, but I think we better get inside."

Whether it's pure luck or divine intervention, the door is unlocked, and we slip inside, slamming the door just before the bear snags us.

"Ah-uh-ah-uh. T-that was c-close. You all right, Lynn?"

"Give me a minute, will ya? I n-need to catch my breath."

The angry animal continues to snarl and slam the door, straining the hinges. My twin and I scramble from the threshold and to the far side of the room. Too exhausted to run anymore, we huddle on the floor for comfort and wait for certain death.

With one ear-splitting crash, the bear fractures the door and frame like they're toothpicks, and charges for us, baring its teeth. Squeezing my eyes shut and whispering a quick prayer to my maker, I cling to my sister, whisper my love for her, and brace myself.

Silence fills the empty air as the waited death doesn't come. There is no pain or sound of crunching bone or blood pooling around my feet as I'm mangled between powerful jaws. I scan the room and discover that the bear has disappeared. All I see is Declynn, looking dazed and confused as she still holds on to me.

"What in the fuck happened?"

Pressing my head against the wall, I focus on my surroundings. The scene in front of me presents itself in a hazy slideshow of snapshots.

A sleigh bed draped in black, which compliments the cream walls and carpet. By the bed, there is a woman clothed in a flowing lace nightgown. Her chestnut hair is swept up in a ponytail, and she approaches us, holding glasses of water. To make sure that what I'm seeing isn't a hallucination, I check myself for head injuries—though I find none.

The mysterious stranger smiles and presses the glass into my hand. "I assure you, I'm very real, Sebastian Sinclair. Drink up; you've been through a traumatic experience."

"Who are you, and how do you know my name?"

Declynn's hands tremble in mine. Her ragged breath drawn through chattering teeth echoes through the chilled room.

The woman lifts the water to Declynn's trembling lips. She slaps the glass out of the stranger's hand, propelling it across the small room and spraying water against the wall.

"I-I'm not drinking t-that."

Calmly exhaling, the unconventional host retrieves another glass from the nightstand and refreshes it from the pitcher. Again, she tries to give my scared sister the liquid.

"Please, Declynn Sinclair, drink. It'll help."

"N-no."

Crouching in front of my sister, the eccentric woman leans in closer, her honeyed voice slipping into a monotonous drawl.

"What are you doing to my sister, bitch? Stop that!"

My demand meets eerie silence. I watch her lips move without words and her stare locks with Declynn's. My sister drinks the water in a couple of gulps and rests her head against my shoulder.

I grasp the weirdo's wrist and command a response.

"Answer me. Who are you, how do you know our names and what did you do my sister?"

"Who I am isn't important, but I know your names because your minds spoke them to me."

"Okay, now I know I must be losing it. Did I just hear you say that my mind spoke my name to you?"

"You aren't losing it; I can read minds."

"Pfft. Right. No one can read minds. The only beings that can read minds exist in fiction. They're called witches and vampires."

"Witches and vampires are real, not fiction."

"Oh yeah? What makes you say that?"

"I'm a real vampire, as you can see."

"Sheesh, lady. Did you forget to take your meds?"

"I understand your skepticism. It's normal. You believe what you want. I tell the truth."

I expect a sarcastic interjection from Declynn by now, but when I glance over at her, she's sound asleep.

"Why is she asleep?"

"The poor thing needed her rest. I slipped her something in her water to help her."

"Why did you drug my sister? I know it's more than to 'help' her."

"I wanted time to convince you of who I am. You need not worry about Declynn. The sedative is harmless and will wear off in a couple of hours."

"It better not hurt her, or you'll have to answer to me."

"Ooooh, a fighter. You're going to do well."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm here not only to rescue you from the bear, but to help transform you and your sister into perfect specimens."

"You can't be referring to vampires?"

"How wonderful; you're convinced."

"I believe that you're off your rocker and you still didn't explain how you got my sister to drink the spiked water."

"Now that is a secret I'm keeping to myself. You'll find out for yourself soon enough."

The eccentric woman kneeling in front of me was creeping me out. I want to grab Declynn and get the fuck out of there. Right now, I'd rather take my chances with the bear.

"I see that I'm going to pull out all the stops to help you see the truth."

"How? 'Cause I don't see how one can make one believe in fairy tales. I have all my mental facilities."

"Like this."

The "vampire" sits astride me, and with lightening quick reflexes, clasps my hair between her fingers, exposing my neck. A flash of sharp incisors scrape my flesh before the pain of penetration engulfs me. Instantaneously, the room rotates around me, and at the edges of my vision I see red. The burning fades way to bliss, and my body grows weak as my consciousness floats away on a black cloud.

Chapter 21

Scarlett

Sunday's serenity is interrupted by the defiance of an employee. "I can't believe you're taking her side. It's your reputation she's ruining, sir."

"My reputation can't be ruined by an employee doing her job. I appreciate your concern, but the only thing you have to worry about is the job I pay you for."

"May I ask how you became aware of my talk with Scarlett? Did she tell you?"

"No. I overheard the conversation through my open door. I'm confronting you on my accord."

"I would apologize if I felt that I'd stepped out of bounds, but I believe that I did nothing wrong."

"You may feel that way, but you did. Finish your duties and go home. Good night, Marg."

Shooting me a cold glare, Marg stalks off. Elijah shakes his head, muttering his disapproval. "I'm sorry that you had to endure Marg's disrespect. It will never happen again."

"Thank you, but it wasn't necessary. I'm sure her heart was in the right place. She misinterpreted what she saw."

"That's noble of you, Scarlett, but Marg loves to gossip like the others here. She adored Anna and feels that no one could replace her."

"I got that impression. I don't care what she or the others think. As long as you feel that I'm doing my job well, that's all that matters."

Elijah's hands cover mine. A broad grin caresses his exposed features. "I'm more than pleased. You're the only one that tamed my nightmares. That's why I keep you around—so I can learn your secret."

Stifling the gasp rising in my throat, I fight to keep my expression neutral. "My secret?"

"Yes. Your secret on how you were able to pull off the miracle. I've suffered that nightmare for years. Not even Anna was able to, and she's been like a mother to me all of my life."

"I don't know what to say. I don't have a secret. Dumb luck, maybe?"

"Heh. Maybe, maybe not. I'm just grateful. I'm glad that's out of the way. Come, let's continue our Sunday."

Elijah relaxes on the balustrade, sipping a cognac, gazing at the full moon. I take a moment and admire the man who pulled me from the gutter and gave me a fresh start. A soft breeze washes over him, blowing the veil of hair away from his face. With one, fast, fluid motion, the wayward strands are back in place.

My saviour is shirtless. His muscles ripple as he stretches, and I'm reminded that underneath the surface of a debilitating illness, Elijah is powerful. His fingers slip inside his pyjama pants, and they start to slide down. I stand transfixed.

"Do I have to get naked for you to come over here, or are you content being a voyeur?"

"Wha? Oh, no. I'm sorry."

"I'm kidding, Scarlett. Loosen up and relax. Here, have a glass of wine."

"Mmm, this is delicious. Is this new?"

"Got it flown in from Napa this morning. It's delicious. In my opinion, Napa Valley has some of the best vineyards."

"I can't agree or disagree. I know nothing about wines."

Elijah's hand glides across my cheek and through my hair. The gesture startles me, but I do nothing to stop him.

"God, Scarlett, you're stunning. How can you not have a boyfriend?"

"I don't have anyone I'm interested in."

"You lie."

"I'm not. What makes you say that?"

"You claim that you're not interested in anyone, but I'm aware of your attraction for me."

"Elijah? I..."

"Shh, it's okay. I'm drawn to you as well. It sounds crazy, but I've wanted to kiss you for a long time."

I'm not sure if it's the wine, the moment, my desire finally coming to light or a combination of all three, but when Elijah presses his lips to mine, I reciprocate. Our kiss is slow, deep and passionate. A rainbow of colours blooms behind my eyelids as our bodies melt together and our fervour climaxes to desperation. Without a second thought to his limitations, Elijah lifts me, positioning me so that my legs wrap around his waist. As his hands cup my behind, I reach up and proceed to move the hair away from his covered face, but instead of getting to stroke his skin, he drops me.

"No, you mustn't see my shame."

Elijah pulls away from me and retreats into his room. Aware of my employer's temperament, I know different than to follow him when he's upset, but I do anyway. Elijah needs to answer for what he done.

"I'm sorry for being abrupt, Scarlett. It wasn't right, but please leave. I need to be alone."

"That's not good enough. I may not known you for long, but I never seen you lash out like that. I thought we were getting close, and you were enjoying our kiss."

"I did."

"Then why did you drop me like a hot potato?"

"I couldn't let you see my mark of disgrace."

"Turn around and tell me why you can't show me what you've been hiding behind that curtain. You've been open about so many things in our relationship, and now that we are ready to take things to the next level, you hide."

Elijah adjusts his hair before turning around to face me, but keeps his head down. Advancing toward him, I reach out and trail my fingers along his torso and the pattern of his scars. My desired one doesn't flinch, standing motionless, allowing me to touch him.

"Why do you let me see and caress these marks, and not the one on your face? What's different?"

"The scars on my body are badges of honour. I received them when I pulled a father and his young son out of a burning building when I was twenty."

"Elijah that's amazing. You're so brave."

"Thank you, but anyone would've done it."

"Don't be so sure. Many would be too scared."

"Maybe, but back to my point. I saved two lives that day, and the burns I received are a small price to pay. What's behind here is another matter."

"Did anyone see it?"

"Only Anna, and that's because she's known me since I was an infant. I trust no one else—though it kills me, not even you."

"I thought you did trust me."

"I trust you with everything, including my heart, but not this."

"Why trust me with every aspect of your life but not the reason you obscure half of your face?"

"I'm afraid that if you see what's behind the shield, you'll either laugh and run away, or scream and do the same."

"Don't assume my reaction. I hate when people do that."

Pressing my body against his, I trail a path of kisses from Elijah's neck to the camouflage. Without hesitation, my hand glides under and slip the dark shroud back over his shoulder. He doesn't physically object. Instead, he begs, "Please, Scarlett, please. Don't look."

Elijah's pleading fall away to whimpers as my lips drift over the purple stain covering the left side of his face. He has fallen silent now, the only audible sound his the steady beat of his heart and a sporadic cry the further down my kisses and caresses go.

"You're beautiful, Elijah."

"You mean that, don't you?"

"I do."

Breaking our kiss, my lover tilts my chin so he can look into my eyes. Elijah studies me for an extended time as analytical contemplation tumbles through his mind, but his heart shuts down this process. Acting on animalistic instinct and lust, the once conservative gentleman whips my nightshirt off and pushes me against the wall.

"Oh, fuck it. I'm sick of denying myself pleasure."

His kisses are feverish and desperate. Like a parched man needing water, Elijah suckles and savours every inch of me before suddenly stopping.

"What's the matter?"

"Forgive me, Scarlett. I was so caught up in the passion that I neglected to confirm if you want to make love."

"I want this more than breathing right now."

"I have your permission, then?"

"For a financial genius, you are not good at noticing the obvious, are you?" My lips cut off any retort as the lustrous material of his bed sheets wrap around us.

Blades of harsh sunlight flittered through the curtains, thrusting me out of a deep, peaceful sleep. Untangling myself from my lover, I climb out of bed, but a tug on my arm sends me sprawling next to my bedmate. With a victorious smirk, Elijah's fingers tease my nipples in an effort to distract.

"What do you think you're doing, bad boy?"

"Keeping you in bed. Why are you up early?"

"I have to go to work. If I'm late, my boss gets cranky."

"Forget the cancerous old bastard. If he fires you, I'll take care of you."

"You will?"

"You bet. Now, get back to bed."

Chapter 22

Scarlett

Elijah studies his reflection in the mirror so long that I swear he is trying to wear a hole in the middle.

"What's the matter? The man in the glass not coming out today, Snow White?"

"It's not Snow White that had the talking mirror; it was the Evil Queen, smarty." Elijah closes his eyes to the reflection.

"I feel strange exposing my birthmark."

"Don't worry; you are only wearing your hair this way around the villa. When we leave, you will put your hair back down. We can take baby steps."

"Thank you for understanding."

"You're welcome. Come, let's take a walk in the garden. You need to stretch your limbs."

The subtle mixture of lilac, honeysuckle, orchids, and roses penetrates the air, and the grass is like a carpet under my feet as we stroll through the garden. Elijah stops and gestures toward a bench. Moaning, he settles his weary limbs on the oak. The short walk has taken a toll.

"You okay?"

"I'm good. I guess with last evening's pleasurable activities and this morning's exercise, I overtaxed my joints and muscles. I just need to rest for a bit."

"All right. Once you feel well enough, we will return to your room, and I'll put you in the Jacuzzi and give you a massage."

A mischievous glint sparks in his gaze, and a slow smile caresses his features.

"I can see that you want more, but you are in no shape. I'm puzzled how you can be so limber."

"My condition is a tricky thing. I have hours, and if I'm lucky, days that I have no pain and am strong. It's in those times, as you found out, I'm like any man my age." Elijah's fingers glide along my thigh, inching underneath my dress. His lips travel along my neck briefly before stopping. "This isn't the proper place. Let's go to your room."

"Elijah, you know better. Therapy first and after we can see where the night takes us."

"Mmmm, okay, you've persuaded me. Come on."

At day's end, I finish my work and turn to leave when Elijah's voice commands me to stop. "I'm curious as to why you didn't ask why I hid my birthmark for so long."

"I don't think it would be my business."

"It is your business."

"It wasn't before. What's changed?"

"We are lovers, and that entitles you to the story."

"Okay, you got me. I've being dying to know since I first saw you what you were hiding and why."

"Before I tell you the reason, I need to ask you something."

"Of course."

"Did your parents love each other?"

"They did. Why?"

"Since they did, your conception was from a loving act. I owe my existence to an act of violence. My mother resented every breath I took."

"Oh my God, Elijah. That's awful; I'm sorry."

Elijah dismisses my empathy with a dismissive gesture. "My grandfather and Anna loved me despite the deformity. To them, this was simply a birthmark, but to my devout Christian grandmother and mother, it was the mark of the devil."

"Why would they think that?"

Tracing the outline of the mauve mark along his jawline, the path forms what appears to be a faint resemblance of the devil's profile. "My grandmother reminded my mother every day it was proof that I was a demon spawn, tainted by the seed of a barbarian. It was a mistake to let me live."

"How Christian of her. Why didn't your mother give you up to a loving home if she loathed you so much?"

"For selfish reasons. I was a status symbol. A mere ego stroke. By keeping me, she was admired and respected for being brave enough to raise the child of a criminal."

My stomach churns, and my heart is heavy with despair at hearing Elijah's tale of neglect and abuse from a person whose job it was to nurture and protect him. A hired stranger had provided him with the love and care his mother could never give.

"Are you okay, Scarlett? You look as though you are a thousand miles away."

"I don't think so. All I can think about is how much you suffered and how sorry I am you had to endure it."

"Please don't feel sorry for me. I did have love in my life, and that is something I clung to in my darkest days. I have a luxurious life, and have no regrets." Elijah chuckles as the force of my embrace topples us back on the bed. "Hey, watch it. I have old bones, and they can't withstand your affections right now."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. You just pulled at my heart strings. I never thought it was possible to admire and love you more, but you proved me wrong."

The courageous survivor's hands hold me to his lap, preventing me from rising and providing him with relief. "You didn't hurt me that much, and I regret not being able to continue this intimate moment, but I do need my therapy now if I am to sleep."

"Of course, let me prepare. Just give me a few moments."

Before turning to retrieve Elijah's therapy materials, he kisses my wrist. "Thank you for tonight. I love you, Scarlett."

"I love you, too."

Catching a glimpse of Elijah as he sleeps, I count my blessings and know deep down I would never love another as I love him. Nothing in this world could change that.
Chapter 23

Declynn

Obsessive beeping rouses me from a deep sleep. I stretch and yawn and prepare to sit up, but find restraints pinning me down. My gaze flits across the blinding white room in search of the relentless noise until it settles on a machine with wires next to my bed. Following the path, I discover that the wires are attached to my arm, along with several others. A clear fluid flows through a tube into my veins. Alarmed, I give a startled shout.

"What in the blue fucking blazes is this?"

"Please, Ms. Sinclair, don't be alarmed. Those wires are just monitoring your vitals, and that clear liquid is from the IV, keeping you hydrated."

A strange man in a lab coat stands over me, offering me a reassuring smile as he scribbles something in a file folder. Closing it up, he places it on the nightstand and proceeds to examine me.

"Excuse me, before you poke and prod me, can you tell me who you are and where I am?"

"I'm Doctor Christian Leblanc, and this is my private clinic. You and your brother Sebastian were gravely injured. A hiker found you, and you were brought here."

"Injured? How?"

"A bear chased you into a cabin and was about to make a meal out of you when the owner of the cabin scared him away. Your injuries are the result of the attempt to flee from the danger. You were lucky to come away with bruises, lacerations, and some broken bones."

Looking down, I see that no plaster, plastic, or other supports cover my limbs.

"I don't understand. If I have broken bones, where are the casts?"

"That's because I didn't set your breaks."

"What kind of doctor doesn't set broken bones? Are you some quack?"

The insult dissipates in the air, and the Doctor continues with the examination. "Your ribs are broken and wrapped in a thick bandage. I recommend resting until you heal."

"Well, we shall see. I do have a question for you."

"Okay, shoot."

"How are you aware of our identities?"

"Sebastian woke up before you did and told me."

"Where's my brother?"

"I'm right next to you, Declynn."

Sebastian's pallor blends in with his flaxen hair, giving him a ghost-like appearance. Wires and tubes zigzag along his arms, and the white sheet almost swallows him.

"Bass, you look terrible."

"Geez, thanks. That makes me feel all better. So that you know, you look like death warmed over. Do you remember what happened to us?"

"All I remember is bits and pieces. Walking in the woods, searching for the growling noise, and finding a bear."

"I recall running from the bear and a strange woman in a cabin."

"Really? I have no recollection of a woman."

"That's because you passed out sometime during our escape."

"What else happened?"

"The woman coming toward me, embracing me, and the last thing I remember is the sting of her teeth in my neck. Then, I woke up here."

"The stranger bit you? Why?"

"I don't know. As I said, I have no memory beyond that."

"Maybe it was a dream."

"Maybe, but it sure did feel real."

"If I may interject, Sebastian, your sister's theory is correct. It's normal for dreams to feel like reality, especially after one suffers trauma."

Doctor Leblanc saunters over to our bedsides, produces a syringe, and I push it away.

"Woah, Doc, what in the fuck is that, and why do you want to jab it in me arm?"

"This is a simple sedative to help you sleep. You need your rest to heal."

"I don't need a fucking drug to get me forty winks."

"That may have been true prior to your injury but you've been in too much pain to sleep."

"I think I take my chances."

In silent acquiescence, Doctor Leblanc slides the needle into his coat pocket.

"Do you wish to have the sedative, Sebastian?"

Soft groans emanate from my brother's bed. He maneuvers his injured body until he is comfortable. "No thank you."

"Fine, but if either of you change your mind, press this button," The doctor gestures to the red push button next to our heads. "And a nurse will be right in. Good-night."

"Well, that was interesting."

Sebastian stares at the ceiling, his face a mask of confusion and doubt.

"I can't get past the fact that I was bitten and I don't know why."

My twin mused as his fingers touch the figment bite mark on his neck.

"It makes sense what the Doc said, Bass. You dreamt of that lady biting you. You know it's the only sane explanation."

"I know, but it doesn't feel right. The thing is, I can almost still feel the sting."

"You feel the sting because deep down, you want to believe that the dream is real. Bass?" Sebastian is non-responsive. Sleep has once again claimed him. Soon, I begin to feel drowsy, and all thoughts fade away as I drift off into a dreamless slumber.

Chapter 24

Sebastian

Wooden boards creak underneath my feet as the faint call of seagulls echo overhead. Salt air and the scent of a fresh catch assail my senses as I walk by his side, listening to his sage advice. "Truth lives in the soul of your dreams, Sebastian. Listen to your heart, believe in what it says, because it is true."

"But Dad, this can't be true. What I am isn't real."

"I'm sorry, son, but it is; you just can't see it yet because your mind will not allow it. Being human closes us off to so many truths."

"You believe in what me and Declynn are?"

"Yes, I do, and I love you."

"How can you love a monster?"

John Sinclair's arm slides around my shoulder. "My love for my children is unconditional. You're not a monster because most of your species are pure."

"I don't understand."

"You were created by a brilliant doctor to bring good to the world. Soon, you and Declynn will begin training to help rid your realm of disease and pestilence."

"That sounds noble, Dad, but I don't know if I can. I'm no crusader."

"You will be, Bass. Trust me. You'll see in time. I have got to go now, son; they're waiting for me. Remember to follow..."

"My heart."

Like a picture on a television screen, my father's image fades away to static, and then into oblivion.

"No, Dad, don't go. Come back!"

"Bass, get a hold of yerself. Snap out of it."

A splash of something wet and cold snaps me out my haze. I snatch the top blanket and scrub my face dry. Declynn holds a now-empty glass over my head, smirking.

"Phfft pfft," I splutter. "What in hell was that for?"

"You were yelling in your sleep, disrupting mine."

"Sorry. What time is it?"

"I don't know." There are no clocks in here, and there is a heavy black drape covering the only window in this room.

"Open the drape, genius."

"That's just it; I can't. It's like it's sewn shut."

"That's impossible. Curtains don't need to be stitched closed. You're just weak from all that time in bed. Here, let me try."

Sauntering over to the window, I tug and pull at the window dressing, to no avail. After several minutes and taunts from my twin, I give up, and take my sore hands and wounded pride back to bed.

"Told you it wouldn't budge."

"I don't get it. Why make the drapery hard to open?"

"For your protection. It would not be wise to let in the sunlight."

Startled by the sudden voice in the room, I whirl around and see Doctor Leblanc and a familiar figure in an identical lab coat flanking him.

"I don't understand. Why shield Declynn and me from the sun?"

"The sun is dangerous to you now. If you become exposed, it would make you quite ill."

"Why would it make us sick? It hasn't before."

"I think I'll forward the answer to that question to my colleague and brother, Victor."

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sinclair."

Declynn squeezes his outstretched hand; Victor rubs hand sanitizer over it before offering it to me. "It's a pleasure seeing you again, Sebastian. Do you remember me from the pier?"

I accept the strange physician's hand. His pale visage stirs memories of our first meeting and the unsettling feeling that accompanied it. "Of course I remember you, Victor. It's great seeing you again, but I thought you're a business man not a doctor."

"I'm both. The profits from my enterprises fund our medical practice."

"Now that the introductions are out of the way, I'll hand the floor back over to my brother."

"Thank you, Christian. Okay, I'm open for questions."

"How about telling my brother and me why the sun suddenly is dangerous to us? It wasn't before."

"The injuries that you sustained required medications that have left you temporarily highly sensitive to the sun. Exposure will cause migraines, blisters, severe cramping, vertigo, and weakness in the muscles."

"Will the sensitivity last long?"

"No, Sebastian, it will not. We're currently weaning the both of you off the medication. It will take up to a week for the drugs to wear off."

"Hey Doc, where in the hell are we?"

Shooting Declynn a disapproving glare, I turn to our host and apologize for my sister's uncouth behaviour.

"Think nothing of it, Sebastian. You are on the same island you washed ashore on."

"Forgive me for being skeptical, Victor, but how can that be? Since when do clinics show up on deserted islands?"

"That's because, Declynn dear, the island that became your respite after your boat sunk was more populated than you thought. Sunset Bay is a community of three hundred."

"How did you know what happened to us?"

"The media reported the sinking of your vessel when Ann, the hiker who rescued you, brought you to our clinic..."

"You remembered us."

"Right. My condolences on your father's passing."

Bored with the conversation, Declynn opts to leave the room, accompanied by Christian, who offers to take her on a tour.

"Thank you, Victor. When can we return home?"

"In a couple of days. Christian and I have arranged for safe passage."

"I don't know how to thank you."

"Having the privilege of being able to treat you is all the appreciation necessary. Are there any more questions?"

"Not at the moment."

"Wonderful. I'll go and make the arrangements for next week's departure."

Warm memories of home roll across my mind and tug at my heart, creating an urgent longing to get back. For the first time since arriving at Sunset Bay, bruised, broken and full of despair, hope courses through my veins, leaving me feeling energized.

Shimmering diamonds highlight the panoramic landscape of my childhood home as I will the boat to move faster. The sooner my feet touches the rustic wooden boards of the town wharf, the better.

My twin, on the other hand, looks a little less enthusiastic. She reclines in her bunk, eyes closed, humming an aimless tune.

"Lynn, wake up. We're almost there."

"So?"

"Aren't you excited to finally to be home?"

"Why would I be happy to be back in that hole? The Cove is a dump and holds nothing but bad memories."

"I understand the nightmare you've lived in the past few years, but it wasn't all bad. There were times that were happy."

"Nostalgia isn't going to erase the hardship I suffered, but it doesn't negate the shock of the dead returning."

"Sure; they'd be dumbfounded by our return because they've probably given us up for dead, but that shall pass."

"And what? They'll welcome us with open arms and praise the bearded dude with the sandals for our miracle return?"

"Precisely. We have nothing to fear."

"Ugh. Jaysus, Bass, get back on that unicorn and float back up on your happy cloud and away from me. I'm in no mood for rainbows and joyful endings."

The sensation of the boat docking into the wharf jostles me a little. I steady myself against the wall and tug on my sister's boot. "Well, like it or not, we are here. So, get over that crooked spurt and follow me. We have to depart."

A full moon casts an eerie glow over the somber, silent town we call home, giving us enough light to navigate the empty dirt road to our house. Most people are settled inside, having an after supper cuppa tea while watching the evening news. Declynn and I go unnoticed as we slip into the back door. There was no other way to announce our arrival, no one to warn our mother ahead of time that we didn't drown with our father, so we stand in our dining room and waited.

Elizabeth Sinclair has her back to us, her weathered hands elbow deep in a scrub bucket, washing the kitchen floor as the kettle squeals. Mom ignores the high-pitched noise as continues with her task. Declynn has no patience, and marches to the stove before I could stop her and turns off the burner.

"Fuck, Mudder, I don't know how you could ever stand that racket. It always drove me nuts."

Mom freezes. Water drips from her scrub brush onto her shiny floor, and I can hear a gasp. She rises from the floor, her tattered jeans flecked with water marks and bleach stains. With trembling hands, the frightened woman grips the edge of the sink and draws in ragged breaths before slowly turning around. "Please be de Jaysus, don't let her be just a voice in my head again. Let her and my boy be real," she murmurs.

"I promise, Mom, we're real."

"S-Sebastian? Honey, is that you?"

"It is."

Mom doesn't take her stare on the flower pattern on the floor tiles. I reach out and touch her cheek. Carefully, my mother raises her gaze; her leaf-green eyes meet mine. Colour drains from her face, and black streaks of her ruined mascara fall onto her quivering lips. "O-oh my God. I must be dreaming again. You can't be real, my precious boy."

Her grief-stricken hands fly to my face, caressing every inch of my features, probing my flesh to ensure my existence. I gather her into an embrace and kiss her cheek. "I told you I was real, Mom. You can believe it. I didn't die."

A torrent of fresh tears falls on my sweater as she squeezes tight, kissing my face over and over. "Oh, my sweet baby boy. I've prayed that you didn't die. I pleaded with the Almighty that you and Declynn were alive. It's been so hard without your father."

Mom's gaze leaves my face, seeking out my sister, when she spots her standing silently by the window. She rushes over and gathers her only daughter in her arms.

"Oh, my sweet Declynn. My heart broke when I heard the news of the shipwreck. All hands were convinced that you died because they found no sign of you anywhere. They all begged me to let you go."

"Did you?"

Kissing my twin on the forehead, nose, and cheeks, Mother caresses Declynn's scarlet hair while holding her, repeating my sister's name in her ear.

"Never. I kept the faith the two months you've been gone. They found your father's body on the bottom of the ocean not far from the shipwreck, but when they didn't locate you both, I held on to the hope that you were out there somewhere, alive."

"That's comforting to know."

Wiping the tears and snot with the back of her hand, Elizabeth inhales a calming breath and marches back into the kitchen to turn the kettle on and raid the cupboards and fridge.

"You two must be famished. I'll fix you some supper, and you can tell me everything," Mom curses under her breath as she slams the doors. "Damn. I thought I bought groceries last week. Where's the homemade chilli Regina sent over?"

Taking my mother's hand away from the freezer door, I lead her back to the dining table.

"Mom, it's all right. Please, sit down, you need to rest."

"No, that won't do. Let me call Cis and see if she'll open the shop for a minute. I'll pick up something you like. You must miss a good Newfie feed, right?"

With a gentle hand, Declynn sets our mother back in the chair. "Mom, stop obsessing over something trivial as feeding our guts. Bass and I aren't hungry. Can't we just have a nice cuppa and relax? We have much to say."

"Right, of course. Let's do that."

Exhausted after a marathon of recollection, laughter and tears, we hug our mother goodnight and fall into our respective beds. Within minutes, I hear Declynn snoring and the noises from my mother's bedtime routine quiet. Lying there in the dark, my tried body fights to convince my active mind to rest, but to no avail. I give up and decide that a long, hot bath just might do the trick.

The steam clears my head, and all thoughts vacate as my body sinks below the musk-scented foam. I'm floating on my oblivious cloud, enjoying the void, when I hear a voice whispering.

"I can't believe she made it. She wasn't supposed to. Only Sebastian was to live. I have to admit that when Gordon told me that the evidence showed that all three were lost, it was a nightmare to endure. This isn't what I planned. No, not at all."

Breaking through the surface, I scan the bathroom for my mother's presence, but discover an empty room. Wrapping a towel around my dripping form, I leave a trail of water behind me as I head to her bedroom. Opening the door, I find Mom still sleeping soundly. Confused, I close her door and slip back into my room.

After drying off and pulling the covers over my head, I will myself into a fitful sleep. Dreams are smothered by my mother's constant chattering, inside the space between sleep and reality.

Chapter 25

Scarlett

Curtains of rain soak us through as we run, seeking shelter. Soft mud gives way under Elijah's feet, causing him to lose stride and slip. I steady him until we find reliable traction. A faint glow up ahead beckons us to the promise of dry clothes and a warm bed. A few more minutes of dashing through the torrent, and we step into the safety of our foyer.

Elijah shakes off his overcoat and grumbles, "Walking to the restaurant was a stupid thing to do."

"No, it wasn't; the weather outside was ideal for walking. Besides, the forecast didn't predict rain."

"Then the meteorologist and I are fucking idiots. Look at you. Your hair, makeup, and the new dress I bought you were ruined."

"Never mind that. Come to your room; I'll draw us a bath. It will not take us long to get warm."

"Ooh, that sounds a lot better. I'll race you."

With rare agility, Elijah sprints ahead of me, chuckling as I pant after him down the long, narrow passageway to the bedroom. He beats me by a few seconds and struts around the room, pounding his fists in the air.

"Hah! I won. How does it feel to lose to a person with wonky limbs? I think you need to exercise more. You're out of shape."

"Brag now, Canning, but the next time I'll whoop your ass."

The victor of the impromptu race bends at the waist in an exaggerated bow, tipping his invisible hat before kissing my palm and winking. "I look forward to the rematch, and let's hope I lose, because I want that ass-whooping."

"We shall see. Now, get undressed; it's time to warm up."

Crimson-orange light flitters through the gap in the drapes, and instead of rousing, I snuggle closer into my pillow and attempt to reach for the erotic dream about Elijah.

My lover's hands travel down my spine and underneath my lingerie, tugging at my panties.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gentle kisses leave a path of fire between my thighs as Elijah's tongue strokes my slick entry.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

His fingers tease my nipples into taut peaks.

"Scarlett. Scarlett. Wake up. Wake up!"

It took a few moments for me to snap out of the fog of my dream and realize someone was at my door. "Wait a minute. I'll be right there."

Opening the door, I greet a panic-stricken Marg. Her expression is wrought with fear as she shoulders past me.

"Marg, what's going on? You look terrified."

She paces around my room, running her calloused hands through her dishevelled grey hair.

"He's gone, Scarlett. I can't believe it. Vanished into thin air without a trace."

"Who's gone?"

"Elijah. We can't find him anywhere."

"Back up, Marg. I'm not grasping what you're telling me. Start from the beginning."

"Mr. Canning requested some fresh cut flowers to be delivered to his office. When I arrived, he wasn't at his desk or anywhere else. I left the flowers and continued with my chores."

"Okay, I'm following. When did you notice he was missing?"

"Not until I found this letter on the door in the vestibule."

Taking the letter from the frazzled maid's trembling hands, I read the note and suppress the urge to scream. I force myself to look at the picture of the love of my life, wearing only his pyjama bottoms, bound and gagged on a metal slab. Cuts, bruises, and lacerations litter his body, but the most disturbing is the birthmark, the source of his secret torment—it's no longer recognizable. A gaping, raw wound pulsating with crimson replaces the maroon stain.

Four simple words are scrawled in a child-like handwriting underneath.

WE CAPTURED THE DEVIL.

It doesn't say where he is, or who has him, but that's not going to stop me. "Have you called the police?"

"Yes, of course. They're here now. They will want to speak to you."

"Stall them for me. There's something I have to do. I'll be down to answer any questions in an hour."

Not waiting for her response, I rush to Elijah's room and lock the door behind me. Once the items are gathered for the spell, one of many I memorized from my mother's spell book, I launch into a deep meditation and search for my lover.

Once locked in on his location, I exit through the terrace and sneak through the gardens. At just a few feet from my car, an arm shoots out of the shadows, and a hand clamps over my mouth. The chance to scream is lost as I inhale the distinct scent of chloroform and fall deep into a void.

Detached phantom screams circles around me in this ether of darkness. Waving my arms and legs about, I feel nothing but frigid emptiness. Willing my eyes to open, I find no light, just more darkness. My palms graze something rough with jagged edges.

I crawl backward through the gelid, wet substance until I hit my head on something hard.

"Ouch."

I attempt to stand, but slip. My hands shoot out for something to stabilize my fall and catch what feels like steel bars. A moving bright beam penetrates the dark, and my suspicions are confirmed. I'm in a cage. Emerging from the gloom on the opposite side of the cell, is a masked figure clad in the night from head to toe.

"Welcome, witch. I hope your accommodations are comfortable. I strive to treat my VIP's with the best of care."

"I don't know who you are, but I'm not a witch."

"Don't try to deny it. I know who you are."

"Believe what you want. May I ask who you are?"

"A friend. Many call me Diana."

"Okay, Diana, where's Elijah?"

"Relax; your boyfriend is safe and sound for now."

"I demand you take me to him."

"Why would I do that?"

Fixating my gaze on my captor, I use my power of telekinesis to send a blast of raw energy directly at her solar plexus. However, the power doesn't seem to generate any results. Diana smirks at my failed attempt.

"Dumbfounded as to why your magic didn't work? You can try again if you want, but it would be useless. While you were having your nap, I cast a spell around the cage to suppress your magic."

"Why would you do that?"

The mysterious witch lets the question evaporate in the air. She glides up to my cage and curls her long fingers around the bars, and I can feel her penetrating stare from behind her oversized hood.

"If you desire to have your loved one returned to you alive and well, you'll join my organization."

"What does your organization do?"

"My small band of thoroughly trained operatives clean the stains from society that the justice system has left behind."

"So, vigilante thugs?"

"We are nothing of the sort. When the police and the courts fail, we make the cities and towns we serve safe again."

"Call it what you like; you're glorified hit men. Murderers. I want no part of it."

"Really? Maybe this will convince you?"

Diana waves her hand, and an effigy of a bound and screaming Elijah appear before me. A lone figure disguised in a hooded cloak similar to my captor's looms over him, applying a torch to his battered form.

My heart thunders against my ribcage.

Elijah's agonizing cries echo off the cavern walls, penetrating my brain and shattering my serenity.

"Make your decision, Scarlett. Unlike my operative, your boy toy doesn't have all night."

"Okay, fine. I'll join. Just stop and let him go."

"You made a wise choice. I promise you will not regret it."

As quickly as they started, Elijah's torturer stops and retreats out of the room. Exhausted from the pain, Elijah passes out. With the snap of her fingers, the image dissolves. Setting me free, Diana commands that I follow her on a dark, narrow passageway and emerge in a sparse unkempt living area.

"This is our meeting area. Our organization meets here every Friday to debrief and receive new assignments."

"Does your organization have a name?"

"Of course. Once you complete your training and pass our test, you will be initiated into The Hopkins Selective."

"Hopkins? As in Matthew Hopkins, the infamous English witch-hunter? Why on earth would you name your group after someone who hunted our kind?"

"Hopkins was a crazy individual, and one of our founding members mentioned that you had to be crazy to do what we do. You'll see what I mean for yourself."

"Then, please, do it now, because the quicker I do your dirty work, the quicker I can save Elijah."

"Excellent. Here, let's have a toast celebrating our new association." Diana presses a crystal wine glass into my hand. It's filled to the brim with a dark fluid.

"What's this?"

"Red wine. A unique blend made by one of our members. It's delicious; try it."

Staring down at the inky black fluid, swirling around in the glass like a dark whirlpool, I doubt my host is telling the truth. Lifting the glass to my lips, I take a sip. The flavour is rich and sour, like it's been left out too long. I wince at its taste. However, as soon as I swallow it, a pleasant warmth settles in my stomach, and my whole body tingles. The world seems to take on a soft golden glow, calming and relaxing me. I feel safe.

"You like it?"

"Mmm, yes. Delectable."

"Good. Good."

Diana's words are electrifying, and she pulsates with a deep, heavenly glow. An awareness settles in my soul; The Selective is my destiny.

Chapter 26

Declynn

"Brothers and Sisters, today is a day of great blessings and joy. In the midst of our sorrow, we have found a bright light. Two months ago, our dear brother John was taken by the thing that gave himself and his family life. But today, God has granted us a gift by returning his children back into our loving arms."

The aged priest led the congregation in another prayer, soliciting another yawn from me. My mother taps me on my knee and presses her finger to my lips, scolding me like a little youngster. I suppress future bored sighs and fixate on the gorgeous woman in the pew adjacent to me, ignoring my mother's disapproving glares.

I attempt to establish eye contact with the goddess in the pew, but my brother's intrusive telepathic warning halts my efforts.

"Please stop ogling Alexandria, Declynn, or Mom will have a coronary."

"No, I will do no such thing. Alex is my fiancée, and if I want to take her in the sanctuary, I will."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Vacate my mind this instant or I'll strip Alex on the altar and eat her pussy in front of the priest and God."

"Jaysus, Lynn. Do you need to be so crude?"

"Well, you're the one who decided to use this mysterious new ability and probe me like a perverted alien."

"I can't control it if I don't know where I got it, but it's no worse than our other 'gifts.'"

"I understand. What about Mom? Did you tell her that you can hear her dreams at night?"

"Would you tell her that? She just got us back, and if I tell her that I can do that plus other freaky stuff, I'll be shipped off to de mental."

"Wuss."

"Okay, smart ass, you tell her that you can read her mind, and you almost went off yer head when Harry had that accident at the wharf and bled out."

"Declynn? Sebastian? Please come to the altar and receive your blessing."

Groaning, I saunter up to the pulpit towing behind Sebastian, who appears to be as thrilled as I am to be on public display.

Connie's embrace nearly steals the breath from my lungs before she launches herself out of them and towards the boyfriend she mourned. Sebastian is soon overwhelmed by my best friend's barrage of kisses. He gently pries her off.

"Okay! Okay, darling. Can you let me breathe now?"

"Sorry. I believed I'd never see you again. I'm overwhelmed by this miracle."

"Well, you can stop your snotting, Connie. We're alive and well." My best friend ignores my comment and turns her attention to Sebastian.

"It must've been so hard. Losing your father and trying to escape so you could find a way to get back to your family!"

Echoes of my father's pleas reverberate in my brain. His hand was reaching out for mine. The swell of the wave as it raced toward him.

Sebastian's voice lures me back to the present.

"It was difficult, but the main thing is that Declynn and I are home. So, if you don't mind, I want a break from discussing our time away from home."

"Sure. Where would you like to go?" Connie snuggles close to my brother; her hands gliding under his shirt.

"Oh, for fuck sake. If you two get any more disgusting, I'll toss me corn flakes."

"Then go off and have your distraction, Sis."

"With who?"

"Check your six."

Following my twin's gaze, I see Alexandria lingering in Connie's driveway with a bouquet of carnations. Her smile is bright and warm. I rush to her side and kiss her breathless.

"Where do you want to get married? I think a simple ceremony at city hall and then we can drive to the airport and pick a destination for our honeymoon on the fly."

Allowing my question to hang in the air, my lover vaults from my bed, dressing as she scurries around.

"Alex, did you hear me?"

"Yup."

"Then answer me."

Searching high and low for some phantom item, Alexandria bites her lip as she thinks to herself, "Pushy bitch. Leave me alone."

The comment stings. My girlfriend doesn't realize I can read her every thought.

"Alex, stop looking for that fucking non-existent scarf and talk to me. Tell me the truth; what's going on?"

Catching her off guard, Alex expression freezes for a split second before returning to normal.

"That's right, I keep forgetting you can see through me. So, you tell me, what am I thinking?"

"The destination is a moot point, because you don't want to get married."

"Wow. So, it's real. You can read minds."

"Now you believe me? How do you know that I didn't just read you correctly because we've been together for so long?"

"'Cause I know you. We've may have been together for three years, but you never been intuitive about any other aspect of me outside of the bed."

"Ouch, that hurt!"

"Damn straight. Look, Declynn, see this from my point of view. You were declared dead. I didn't want to accept it at first, but I had to if I was to move on and go back to living."

"Wow, Alex, you waited such a long time to get back to the living. Two months; I'm fucking impressed."

"You're a bitch, Lynn. You don't know what it was like for me. I spent each day after the news of the sinking in limbo. Were you alive or dead? Will they ever find your body or will you come home alive? For a month, I couldn't eat, sleep, or concentrate on work and classes."

My approaching rage sucks all noise out of the room, and all I hear is my panting, willing myself to remain calm. I propel out of the bed and stand in front of my lover, challenging her.

"Well, boo, fucking hoo. Let me tell you about hardship, Maid. Try being tossed into the North Atlantic, fighting for your life in frigid wild waters and watching your father die."

"I know losing your father was hard, and I can never imagine what it must have been like on that water, but..."

"But, nothing. Come to me when you've spent weeks on a deserted island striving to survive and wondering if you're going to return to your loved ones. While you only lived in limbo missing me for a month, I did it for two, thinking about you every fucking second!"

"Lynn, this isn't a competition of who suffered more. It's about our relationship and what we want now that you are back." My anger slows to a simmer as Alex sighs, appearing compliant.

"I know what I want; you, just you. I don't care about marriage right now. Let's start over and take our time and get to know one another again."

"It's not that simple, Lynn."

"How isn't it not simple? We love each other; that's all that matters."

"I've done some serious reflecting on our relationship, and I realize that I don't love you."

The shock of Alex's declaration shatters my blissful bubble and sends me crashing to earth and breaking my heart into pieces. A sob rises in my throat. I swallow it back down. I'm not giving the cold, betraying bitch the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

"That's not what your letters said."

"Those were a lie."

"Why would you write them if you didn't mean what you said?"

Perturbed by my query, the pseudo-fiancée stumbles for an explanation. "I-I wanted to offer you comfort. Connie told me about your situation at home. I figured if I wrote those letters, it would give you a sliver of happiness."

"Giving hope and snatching it away is cruel."

"I don't know what to say, Lynn."

"I do. I won't stay with someone who could stab me in the back so easily."

With trembling hands, I'm silent as I slide the diamond solitaire off the gold chain around my neck and press it into her palm. Her embrace radiates regret, and this time, her thoughts betray nothing. My once true love whispers goodbye before disappearing behind my blurry vision. I hear the sound of the door shutting, and weep until I can no longer breathe.

Chapter 27

Scarlett

A month after I was persuaded to join the vigilante group, Diana insists that I'm ready to do my first solo assignment. I'm not so sure. I study the file she just handed me and shudder.

The file is thick, its contents leaden in my hands. Diana observes me as I read the file of a notorious murder and flip through the gruesome images of his crimes. Page after page of the deranged killer known as MUTB, or Monster Under The Bed, sicken me. I swallow the bile until I can't stand the nightmare any longer and slam the file shut.

"I do understand how you feel, Scarlett. What these criminals have done is inhumane and nightmarish. You are horrified by his actions, and that's excellent."

"How is that a good thing?"

"It will fuel your purpose. Override the illusion that 'all life is sacred' and do the job."

"It's not that simple. I've have held that belief all my life, and I can't foresee giving it up quickly, or even at all."

My mentor's expression remains shrouded in her cloak, but her silence speaks volumes. "Scarlett, you've been assisting me with my assignments during your training, and know that it's critical to remain detached to be objective."

"I understand your point, Diana, but I don't agree with it. I've witnessed brutal killings by your hand and still maintain my morality. I don't think I can do this."

"Then let me make it simple for you. If you want to leave, I will cast a memory-erasing spell, and you'll go back to your life, but you'll never see your boyfriend again."

Elijah's screams and broken body still echo on the surface of my memories. I take a drink of the dark wine to shut them out. The magical brew calms my frazzled nerves.

"Okay, I'll do as you wish."

"I promise, Scarlett, you'll see the nobility of the service you are providing."

My hands tremble and struggle to mix the ingredients that will subdue and torture the figure lying unconsciously on the table behind me. Soon, the monster will rise from his slumber. Time soon will be no longer on my side. Stirring with haste, my ragged breath reverberates in the frigid, sterile room.

By the time the concoction is complete, my guest stirs. His eyes flutter open, and his gaze finds mine. Seeing the steaming bowl and cloth, the assignment searches my expression for any clues.

"Who are you?"

"My identity isn't important."

"Listen, lady, I don't have time for mind games. I have somewhere to be. Would you at least tell me where I am and why I'm here?"

"Andrew "MUTB" Collins, you've been running away from your demonic acts like a snivelling coward for too long. It's time to stop and come home."

"Fuck off, bitch."

Gathering a stack of crime scene photos, I fan them out for him to see. Pointing to victim number one, a two-year-old girl, still wearing her pink unicorn nightie, her arms clutching a plush blue unicorn.

"Do you remember Amanda Cole?"

"Who?"

"The sweet little girl that you swiped from her bedroom as she slept, taking her into the woods where you tortured and raped her for days, until she succumbed to your depravity?"

Andrew studies the image of Amanda's small, broken body curled in a fetal position, her dark complexion disfigured from numerous cuts, bruises and burns, his expression blank.

Swallowing my increasing rage, I continue badgering the killer. Stabbing my finger at each picture, each a replica of the last, save the age of the girl. The reaction remains unchanged; a chilling indifference.

"Tell me, Andrew, how long did you wait while you stalked them? How long did it take to kidnap them?"

"I dunno. Hard to tell, since I didn't do it."

"Okay, since you don't want to admit to what you done, let's see if this will encourage the truth."

Dipping my cloth into the steaming mixture, I press the cloth over his mouth and nose, and the stench of his sizzling skin assails my senses.

"Arrrrggggh!" Andrew thrashes around, his limbs jerking wildly under the restraints. When it subsides, I rip the rag out of his mouth. Hacking up bile, he draws in laboured breaths. "C-crazy b-bitch."

"Oh, honey, you haven't seen nothing yet. Unless you wish to confess; then, all of this will be over."

I stopped my encouragement to wipe the spit streaking down my cheek with my sleeve.

"Fuck off, whore. Now, release me."

The Selective encourages minimal conversation with the selected. Allowing his curses, threats and fury dissolve under the burn of the simple but effective mixture of a dish that is our leader's favourite, curry. Not just any curry, but a unique blend called Widower Curry, infamous for making some people hallucinate after consuming it.

The baby rapist's muffled screams sent a momentary rush of satisfaction through my veins. Andrew's expression of agony unnerves me a little, but I think about the innocent, sweet lives that he callously ripped from this world and go back to my task. I remove the gag and stand back, enjoying The Monster flail his limbs, struggling to get free.

"I-I-I swear on my father's grave that when I get loose, you'll regret doing this to me. I fuck your cunt until you stop breathing, just like I did with those little whores."

The damning words spill from his destroyed lips before he can halt their flow. His rage washes away; instead, he turns ghostly white.

Pressing my fingers against the globes under his eyelids, I apply pressure until they are liquid, oozing between my fingertips.

"Nnnnh! Aggggh!"

Stepping away to wash the gore from my hands, I wait for the curry to take effect. It doesn't take long. Soon, Andrew screams in terror as he claws at the air. He pushes and pulls, his muscles straining under the weight of his desperation for freedom.

"Get away. Get away. I swear I didn't mean to, Belle. Stop."

The screams give away to whimpers. Curling in a fetal position, the self-proclaimed stone-cold beast is reduced to incoherent blubbering. A wet stain appears between his legs before the wailing subsides.

"Do you want this to be over, monster?"

Exhausted from the exertion of the torture, Andrew stops fighting, giving into his fate. My assignment is almost complete, the moment of what Diana likes to call the final cleansing, and I hesitate. My fingers poise over this thief of innocence's carotid artery with a storm of conflict brewing inside my heart. There's no time for doubt. I've come this far; the bastard needed to die. I can't risk The Selective being exposed.

I squeeze until the Monster Under the Bed lies still.

Diana's shadow looms over me, her masked visage observing as I study the newest file. "Congratulations on a job well done."

"Thank you."

"I understand that you struggled with the mixed emotions associated with taking of someone's life, no matter the reason. I do hope our therapy has helped you somewhat."

"I wouldn't be honest if I didn't admit that your sessions have gone a long way to helping calming my turmoil. I've slept better, and feel more confident about this next assignment."

"That's encouraging to hear. I promise that each cleansing will ease your inner conflict."

"In other words, practice makes perfect?"

"Exactly. Better get going; the handlers will be delivering the latest acquisition soon."

Chapter 28

Scarlett

Clutching the nondescript leather valise containing the supplies necessary, I following the first light of dawn to bring another soul out of the darkness.

Helena Lewis, age seventy-six, is enjoying her retirement from the Hynes Construction Company, where she worked for forty years as an executive assistant. She's sitting on her terrace, enjoying a neat scotch and the panoramic ocean view of Cavendish, Prince Edward Island. Helena's butler, Jarvis, places a drink and a fresh plate of lobster tail in front of her. "Thank you, Jarvis, that's all."

I watch in disgust as the old woman enjoys the fruits of her labor, knowing that it didn't come from being a mere executive assistant, but rather, from being a gun for hire. She was a freelance killer, highly sought after and paid handsomely. Opening the file on my lap, I review it one last time.

For forty years, Helena 'The Whisper' Lewis tortured and killed hundreds of men, women, and children without hesitation or remorse. The luxury that she lives in was paid for with the lives of innocents. International police agencies have mounted a three-decade long search for Ms. Lewis, but she disappeared from public view. Our intel found her living in condo in a high class part of Cavendish.

For this mission, I am working in concert with Blaine Joy, a.k.a. 'Jarvis', who is Helena's caretaker. It will be Blaine's job to allow me into the condo. When Helen dismisses Blaine for the night, he will leave the servant's door left slightly ajar so I can slip in and then slip out without a trace. I wait patiently in a supply closet in the main hall of the condominium until I see Blaine disappearing into the street and back to his apartment.

The apartment is eerily silent as I slip through it, careful not to make a whisper of a noise and snake my way to my destination.

Aware of every detail of the old woman's routine, I know that by now she will be sound asleep in her bed, making this an easy mission. Keeping flush with the wall, I enter her bedroom and creep up to her bed with syringe in hand. I lean into the darkness, only to find the bed empty.

Momentarily put off guard, I take a breath and go in search of my target. Inching closer to the exit, a sharp pain shoots across my shoulder. The syringe falls to the floor. Whipping around, I'm greeted by my mark, standing behind me in a defensive crouch.

"Thought that I'd be an easy target, did you? Didn't count on the old woman to be able to fight back?"

Remaining calm, I calculate my next move while fishing for the syringe.

"The quiet type, I see. No matter, we can do this without another word." She spins and drops me to the floor with a powerful roundhouse kick to my chest.

I lay on the ground, stupefied by the skill and speed that this woman still possesses.

Helena runs for me, baring her fingernails, ready to fight dirty.

She is a moment too slow. I kick her in the chest with my feet and sent her flying across the room, onto her back.

Straddling her, I press my thumbs deep into her windpipe. With almost inhuman strength, she grabs my hair and punches me in the face three times in rapid succession. I let go of her. Her razor-sharp nails claw at my face, splitting the flesh above my eye. I wipe away the blood and jump to my feet. The assassin rushes at me, her arms outstretched. I jump to the side and avoid her tackle. The killer grabs the bedpost and stabilizes her footing.

"Good try. You seem to be a catty one."

"Thank you, but you've hadn't seen nothing yet. I'm not leaving here until you're dead."

"We'll see about that."

Like an old western duel, we slowly advance toward each other, posed, combat ready. Her serene expression irks me.

With swift reflexes, my target whips the afghan off her bed and tosses it in my direction. Leaping aside, I avoid being tangled, but she uses this distraction to flank me and grab me in a sleeper hold.

"I call that slight of hand. Learned that from an illusionist in Vegas. He liked to show me all his tricks after fucking."

Her bear-like hold squeezes on my trachea. The air leaves my lungs and my vision blur along the edges. I jab her in the stomach with my elbow and reverse the move, cutting off her air.

"Shut up." I press my fingers deeper into the target's windpipe. Helena doesn't struggle, her life fading. The satisfaction of completing another assignment evaporates with the white hot pain of a bone shattering.

"Aaagh!" I jerk back, cover my broken nose with my hand, and try to stave off the blood.

"That's a dirty little trick I learned from a wrestler in Mexico City."

Pulling myself upright, I blink away the tears. "Fuck, woman, what kind of whore were you?"

"Not a whore; just a very talented lover whose skills were in high demand." She rushes forward, catches me around the waist, tackling me to the ground. My head hits the edge of the fireplace. Dazed, I watch helpless as the retired executioner grips me by the neck, lifting me a few inches off the ground. She drags me across the carpet and then cold tile. Reaching into a drawer, Helena plucks a needle and brandishes at me.

"I escaped most of the curses of old age, except for diabetes. It's the only thing that slows me down."

"Not by much."

"Heh. You're right. It doesn't."

Weak and dizzy from the blow to the head, Helena uses this to her advantage.

Her knee presses into my chest, as a strong arm pins mine to the floor. The metal tube inches closer to my neck; the sharp edge kisses my jugular.

"I'm so going to enjoy this. Behave and take your medicine."

Struggling underneath the old woman's weight, I push, strain, manage to seize her wrist, and twist, snapping the bones. Arching in pain, the syringe clatters to the floor rolls away.

"Arrgggh!"

Pushing myself up on my feet, I lunge at Helena, wrapping my arms around her waist and tackle the assassin to the ground. Helena's head hits off the floor, and she is left dazed. Through my peripheral vision, I notice the insulin and whisk it off the floor. Stalking over to my target, I raise the medicine and aim for her neck. At the last moment, Helena snapped out of her stupor and kicked out my leg. My knee slams to the tile with an agonizing crunch. The needle flies into the air and lodges into her shoulder.

"Nnnngh! Fuck."

Pulling herself into an upright position, Helena shoots me a sinister grin and rips the instrument out of her flesh, leaving behind an oozing wound.

"Ahhh. Good thing that it was empty, or I would've have been in serious trouble. I got to say that you're a strong one. No matter, I like a challenge; makes for a more satisfying kill."

Like a cobra, the seasoned hit woman whips a blade out of nowhere and slashes at me. A slicing pain shoots through my arm. I fight the urge to scream, staggering back, feeling my blood trickling from the limb and onto the floor. Calm and serene, she drives the knife towards me.

I strike quick and side step and clutch Helena's wrists with my hands. I attempt to wrench the knife from her fingers but using all her strength, she drives her elbow into my wound. Pain shoots up my forearm and forces me to stagger back. Pinning me to the wall with the force of her body, the relentless wench whips out another blade and wields them into my palms, securing me to the wall. "Aaaaagh! Fuck!"

Hot, blinding pain seizes me. I gasp for air, and the world flashes a deep red. The room spins around me and colours flicker and fade, making it seem as though everything is moving in slow motion.

A long finger cascades down my cheek as my target's wrinkled face crinkles into a victorious simper.

"Told you I'd get the best of you. Now take a deep breath, this is going to hurt."

Striving to keep myself conscious and steel myself for what was to happen next, I pace my breathing and wait for the right moment. The assassin inches closer, raising a hot red poker she has grabbed from the fireplace over my heart. I count. One. Two. Three.

I rip my hands out of the walls and watch her stagger back, horrified.

"How did you..?"

My hunger for vengeance grows with each step toward the soulless coward who has inflicted so much pain. Adrenaline overrides the pain in my destroyed palms. With blood-slicked hands, I pin the bitch to the wall.

"Oh. My. God. What are you?"

"I'm not like most bitches you've ever seen, Granny."

A spiteful loathing boils deep within my gut, stirring until my being is motivated by only one thing: murder. White noise buzzes in my ears as I press my fingers deep into her trachea and squeeze. My jaw is so tight that I swear that my teeth will grind to dust, but I don't care. The room's only sound is my heart jackhammering against my chest and the breath leaving her lungs.
Chapter 29

Sebastian

Declynn has spent the weeks after her breakup practically living inside the Jig-n-Reels pub. She spent her days saddled up to the bar on her favourite stool and drowning her sorrows in a brown bottle. Tonight, she blends in with the dark, dressed in trademark black and nursing a beer while a wiry tattooed man flirts with her. His attempts to woo her fall on deaf ears.

"Drowning yourself again, I see. Careful, or you'll end up with the brown bottle flu again."

Wiping a streak of golden liquid with her sleeve, I feel the heat of my sister's stare burn me before returning to staring at some focal point on the wall. "Fuck off, Bass."

"Good evening to you too, sunshine."

"Why are you here? Did Mom send you to drag me home?"

"Nope. I came by to have a beer. It's just a happy conscience that you're here."

"Stop bullshitting. You're here because, in typical Sebastian fashion, you are checking up on your helpless, heartbroken sister."

"Pfft. Yeah, right. Heartbroken, yes. Helpless, far from it."

"Bass, either shut up and get a beer, or go the fuck home."

Signalling the bartender, he slides me a Black Horse brew, and I stare at the same focal point. Tapping into one of our freaky new abilities, I probe my twin's mind to get an inkling of what's going on inside. I come across a barrier, preventing me from going further. Her reaction is swift and blunt.

"Stay the fuck out my head, Bass. Just because you're my twin, it doesn't give you the right to read my private thoughts, arsehole."

"I'm only trying to help. I know your breakup with Alex hit you hard. Just know that I'm here for you. I'm your brother, and I wants what's best for your wellbeing."

"Don't try to sympathize with me. You know nothing about heartbreak. You still have Connie as your little lapdog to lick and suck ya, making your transition to mainstream humanity a smooth one instead of a shitty one."

"Lick and suck?"

"Yeah, you know, being the perfect girlfriend by sucking your cock and licking your nuts."

"I'll take no offence in your attempt to drive me away with insults and crude comments. I'll remain here until you leave."

"Suit yourself."

The hand on the clock ticks by at a snail's pace, its sound starting to grate on my nerves.

My eyes burn from gaping at the rhythmic movement of time, so I shift my attentions to the patrons. Being a Saturday night, the pub is filled with the usual consort of customers.

Fishermen in worn shirts and bleach-stained jeans, the result of spouses attempting to cleanse the fish blood and guts from the material, celebrate a rich catch. Blue-collar workers from the mine outside of town are boisterous and crude with the waitresses. Rounding out the motley crew, a group of women, scantily dressed and wild, are celebrating a friend's upcoming nuptials. Ordering another beer, I sense a presence behind me as a soft hand grazes my thigh.

"How about it, handsome? Want to blow this joint and come back to my place for some fun?"

The soft breath in my ear and the seductive tone sends a shiver up my spine and a stirring between my legs. With my back to the bar, I keep my surveillance on the clubgoers and away from the woman's enticement. My vision encompasses her cleavage spilling out of her too-tight blouse as the temptress's hand inches toward my growing bulge. Somehow, I maintain my decorum for a few more moments until she nibbles on my ear and kisses my neck.

At the wrong time, I hear Declynn's voice in my head. "Oh for fucksake, stop embarrassing yourself. Take her outside and screw her already."

Relenting, I grasp my girlfriend's hand and whisk her out to her car.

After a marathon make out and heavy petting session, the windows of Connie's modest four-door compact are coated in steam. I pull away to get a breather, my lips swollen and bleeding.

My girlfriend pouts, disappointed that I separated myself from her, but she launches herself at me and tears at the buttons of my shirt.

"Grrr, why didn't you wear the t-shirt I gave you? It would've been easier to rip off."

"Connie, wait. Just slow down a sec, okay? Let's take a breather."

"Why? I don't want to take a break. I need you out of those pants and inside of me. Come on, don't you want me?"

Connie's opalescent jade eyes sparkle with an almost desperate lust. A whirlwind of emotions crowds her mind. Desire, anger, joy, love, and fear, all culminating into the acute need for sex. The belief that I was dead has taken a toll on her heart. She's clinging to me with everything she has. Holding her at bay, I caress the emotionally vulnerable woman's cheek and push a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Connie, please, just stop for a second. Of course, I want you. That will never change. But this isn't the right way."

My partner slaps my hand away and pushes her back to the door, disgusted. "Don't you dare try to give me a lecture on how having the natural desire for my boyfriend to fuck me isn't right, 'cause I don't want to hear it."

"I'm not going to lecture you. I just want you to take a serious look at why you've been sexually aggressive of late."

"How dare you say that I'm audacious? All I want is to make love." Connie leaps over the console and straddles me, her panting erratic.

She rips open my shirt and tugs on my jeans as she kisses me with intense fervour. "Why can't you understand, Sebastian? You're sexy as hell." Her hands glide over my chest, and her fingers dig into the muscle. The blade of her tongue outlines my nipple before biting it.

"Ouch. Con, what are you doing? Stop."

"No. I'm going to devour every last inch of your sculpted flesh. Feel the smooth skin under my fingertips and on my lips. I'm going to take that delicious cock into my mouth until you come all over me."

"Please, stop before something happens we both regret!"

"I will never stop until I claim you so thoroughly that every bitch in this town will know that you're mine, and you never leave me again."

Connie's eyes are pools of water that she struggles to blink away, but her restraint has little effect on the rest of her face. Her lips quiver. As I gather Connie in an embrace, she soon sobs into my chest, her tears soaking my skin.

"Shhh, let it out, darling. I promise, you don't have to hold on to me so tightly. I'm not going anywhere."

"How can I be so sure that you won't? That day on at the wharf, you said that you'd be back in a couple of days. Then, you disappeared." Connie hiccups and takes a drink from a can of Coke.

"I spent sleepless nights waiting for news of your return until Mick Ryan told me you drowned. A piece of me died that day."

"I can never imagine your pain, but I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Mentally and emotionally wrought, Constance Murray holds on to me for a few more minutes before straightening up and takes a deep breath to calm herself. Wiping the tears and ruined makeup from her face with a stray fast food napkin, my girlfriend reaches over to repair the damage. "I'm sorry for being aggressive."

"I forgive you, Con. Intense stress fucks with our heads."

"That's putting it mildly, but thank you. I better get home. You need a ride?"

"Nah. I better get back in and see if Lynn has gotten into any trouble."

"Good idea. Please, tell my absentee friend to call me. I miss her."

"I will. Good night."

After a tender kiss, I watch my girlfriend drive away before returning to the Jig-n-Reels. I hear a commotion from the rear of the building and hear my sister's scream. Rushing around the corner, I see J.R. Ryan grappling with Declynn, his hands wrapped firmly around her throat.

"You are one goddamn cocktease, dyke bitch. All you had to do was to show me some tit and give me a little pussy, and you would've walked away just fine. Now I have to rough up that lovely face."

"No, it's you that won't be walking out of here."

Declynn bites down on J.R.'s hand, drawing blood. Under the light of the moon, I swear I witness her eyes glow crimson, and her expression contort with bliss as she licks her lips.

Then, with impossible speed and strength, my sister twists his wrist until I hear the delicate bones break. Mick Ryan's son falls to his knees in agony, clutching his hand.

Roaring his promise of revenge, Declynn doesn't look my way as she flees into the night.

I turn to follow her, but feel blinding hot pain as the ground rushes up to greet me. Size ten work boots pummel my sides for unknown torturous minutes before I feel weightless. My head makes contact with the brick. Dazed, J.R.'s enraged profile appears through my blurred vision. His meaty hands are pinning me.

"Your cunt-licking whore of a sister may have gotten the best of me, but that doesn't mean I can't still make her pay. Let's see if she likes it when I carve up her brother."

A deep thrust produces a white hot, piercing pain that sets my nerve endings ablaze. A sour, coppery taste floods my mouth. I choke back a grunt of pain as the callous attacker drops me like a rag doll to the ground and kicks me for good measure. My lungs burn painfully, and my vision throbs. In the moonlight, I see a flicker of white teeth. The bastard is smiling.

Abruptly, the pain eases and the fiery torment in my nerves cools. I rise from the ground and lift my jacket and see no wound—just some dried blood residue around where he stabbed me.

"What de fuck? You should be bleeding like a son of a bitch. What happened? I stuck ya good. You must be some freak, b'y."

"Heh. I guess you're not as good as ye taught, b'y."

Stunned, J.R. stands frozen, befuddled by my lack of injury. Other patrons had gathered around to watch my attack, but no one did nothing to stop it. Now, they all look like zombies, their brains unable to process the miracle before them. I was among the confused.

"Oh, fuck dis. I always knew you were a strange one. I'm going home."

Within moments, the parking lot and the bar are like a ghost town, and I am left standing, struggling to figure out what just happened.

Chapter 30

Declynn

The words that spill from Christian Leblanc's mouth are a blend of the bizarre and gospel. Sebastian is stubborn, and refuses to believe the doctor's explanation of our sudden and freakish abilities. I trust it; the more facts Christian points out, the more it seems plausible.

"You can't be serious. There's no way Declynn and I are vampires, sir."

"Sebastian, I understand why you are hesitant in believing the truth, because frankly, it's unbelievable. Nonetheless, if you look at the evidence, you'll know I speak the truth."

"I admit, there isn't a logical explanation for mine and Lynn's new gifts."

"That's because Christian is telling us the truth. We're vampires."

"Lynn, you and Sebastian are genetically enhanced vampires."

"What?"

"Well, vampires are created when a human dies with vampire blood in their bloodstream. When they revive, the person is in transition, and may choose to become a vampire by drinking human blood, or return to death."

"Are you saying we didn't die with vampire blood?"

"You did have vampire blood in your bodies. You and Sebastian just didn't die."

"God, this story gets weirder by the minute."

"Shut up, Bass, and listen. Keep going, Doc."

"The procedure was complicated and tricky, but it was a success. As you told me, you recall snippets of the incident that brought you to my clinic?"

Sebastian paused, silent, thinking back to the event that changed our lives. Images, like snapshots, flash through his memory, recalling to the last detail of our time as castaways. Us foraging for food and water. Building a shelter, running for our lives, and a statuesque woman with fang-like teeth, piercing our skin. Light is beginning to dawn on my brother. The truth is setting in.

"Yes, I do recall," Sebastian admits.

"Good. It's a relief to know Sebastian is on the cusp of faith. We administered more vampire blood just before the both of you flatlined."

"Why?"

"To genetically enhance the vampire blood, you and Declynn had to be still breathing. The formula that Victor and I created only works on living specimens."

"Okay, that's only part of my sister's question. What does augmented blood do, beyond what we already discovered?"

"Tests have proven we generated two different classes. Declynn, is a more typical sanguine vampire; a blood drinker. You, Sebastian, are a rare breed. A soul vampire."

"What's a soul vampire?"

"You, Sebastian, will feed off dark spirits. Once you consume the soul, the human can't pass on to the afterlife until you are willing to let it go."

"Why wouldn't I be willing to let the human achieve peace in death?"

"You will know when you encounter a soul so black that redemption isn't possible. Sending the soul to any other place than eternal damnation will put pure souls in peril."

"When I have to consume a spirit, what are the symptoms?"

"The air will grow frigid, and a sense of disquiet will settle into your subconscious. Once your body is aware of the spirit, your eyes will become black, and you must kiss the victim to suck the soul."

Sebastian's face twists with distaste. "Even men?"

"Yes, even men. It's the only method of releasing the life-force."

"Bwah hah hah hah hah. Bass will have to kiss men. Hah ah hah."

"Shut up. Just shut up."

"Ahem. If we may stop acting like children, please and get back to the topic at hand?"

Embarrassed by his outburst, Sebastian turns to the screen and mumbles out an apology. "Sorry."

"You're forgiven. Are there any other questions?"

"Who was the woman who bit me and what happened to the hiker who found me and Lynn?"

"The truth is Sebastian, the hiker and the vampire who bit you are one in the same. Ann Parsons is one of our research associates on this project."

"The project to create the perfect vampire?"

"That's right, Declynn. Any other questions?"

"I have lots but I think that's enough for now. My head is spinning."

"My sister and I have had enough to digest for now, Doctor Leblanc."

"Very well. I'll leave you alone to process this new information for a few weeks. I shall check in on you at the end of the month. Good night."

"Good night."

My brother clutches a full glass of Screech, his thousand yard stare burning a hole into the portrait of our father. I shake his shoulder and click my fingers in front of his face. Sebastian doesn't respond. He appears to be adrift in a maelstrom of contemplation.

"Bass, snap out of it. What's going on in that head of yours? Bass?"

A glimmer of recognition finally flickers across his face, and he notices me as for the first time. "Wha? What do you want?"

"Oh, lookie there. Someone is alive. May I ask what you're daydreaming about?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm not quite with it because I just found out that we're vampires. That's a little hard to wrap my head around."

"I think that's awesome."

"Awesome? How can being creatures that suck the life out human beings be cool?"

"Minor price to pay for the super human skills."

"So, you're fine with feeding off humans to survive? What kind of life is that?"

"It's our life, whether we like it or not."

Leaping from my perch on the couch, my lips brush across my brother's forehead in a gesture that never fails to produce a smile. Tonight, it does fail. "I love you, Bass."

"Mmm, hmm."

With an abundant surge of energy that I need to channel, I leave my dazed twin and explore my new powers.
Chapter 31

Scarlett

Frigid tendrils of fog thicken around my feet as I traverse the cemetery. Through the eroded gravestones and crypts, the eerie mist merges into phantom-like shapes that fade in and out of existence. A chill of foreboding crawls up my spine, the closer I approach the mystery figure standing at the parameter of the entrance. Instead of dissipating, the haze shrouds the silhouette like a cloak. Her soft, full-bodied voice echoes in the air.

"Thank you for coming."

"May I ask why meet here?"

"It's Halloween. We're witches. I felt it was appropriate and fun."

"Fun isn't on the agenda. I'm more concerned about Elijah. I haven't received any reports on him in weeks."

"I called you to this graveyard for that reason. Look behind you."

Illuminated by the moon's glow, the void behind me offers nothing but shadows of the memorials of long-dead loved ones and the distant sounds of wolves baying. Thinking that Diana has lied, I turn away to confront her. Soon, the darkness moves, and a shape forms out of the vacuum. An angular man steps into the light; the designer business suit hangs loose on his frame. His left profile is obscured by a white bandage. Despite the change in this man's appearance, my heart leaps at the sight of him.

"Elijah! Oh God, it's wonderful to see you. I missed you so much."

Elijah's embrace is dispassionate. He pulls away from me in an instant, but I manage to hold onto his hand. "Let go of me please, Scarlett. I don't want you to touch me."

"Why don't you want me to touch you?"

Severing our contact, my boyfriend slips his hands into his pockets and stares at the ground.

"Elijah, answer me."

"I-I can't do this, Scarlett. Not anymore."

"Do what?"

"I don't want to see you anymore. I fell out of love with you. You're no longer the beautiful and innocent young woman I met."

"Then look me in the eye and tell me what you think I am now."

"It was explained to me by your leader that you're a witch. A witch who has taken up killing others. I never would've guessed that hiding underneath the façade, you were a monster."

"That's not the whole story. Diana wanted me to join her vigilante organization, so she went to extremes in order to do so. She had you kidnapped and tortured and captured me."

"That seems to be an awful a lot of trouble just to get someone to join an association."

"She wanted me that bad for some reason, yes, but my motivation was to free you."

Elijah's derisive laughter seizes my heart, twisting my gut, and stealing my breath. His eyes maintain watch on the pale gray sky.

"As they held me in a dark cell in pain without my therapy, all that kept me hanging on was that you were going to find me, and we would be together again. Heh. I guess that was useless."

"That's why I joined; to find you and bring you home."

"Don't lie to me. You enjoyed each kill. The first time you stole someone's life was difficult, but when you watched the breath leave that old lady, it tickled you."

"How do you know about that?"

"It was one of the ways they tortured me. They made me watch you perform through those security cameras they hacked."

"Elijah, please, understand. These people were murderers. Beings with black souls that deserved their punishment. I was..."

"I don't want to hear it, Scarlett. Get away from me and go and finish what you started, so I can go home and forget you."

The chill in Elijah's voice freezes me on the spot. I watch, helpless, as the one person that I bypassed my morals for disappears into the mist, flanked by two hulking figures.

Feeling empty and enraged, I storm home and walk into my room. Refusing to turn on the lights, favouring the veil of darkness to suffocate the fire in my heart. Sulking, I throw myself on my bed and bury my head in my pillow and hope that it swallows my screams.

"Go ahead and cry until you are raw and mute, but it will not numb the pain of this evening."

"Jesus, Diana, what in the fuck is the matter with you? You could've given me a heart attack."

"It's the element of surprise, dear. Critical in our line of work. You've perfected stealth, so my appearance shouldn't have surprised you."

"Forgive me for being distracted. You singlehandedly ruined my life."

"I believe the decision to end things was solely on Elijah's head. He broke up with you because he couldn't handle our noble cause."

"So, you're saying that his morals darkened his heart against me? It had nothing to do with the fact that you showed him the security camera footage?"

"That man would've ended your romance without that film or any other help. The virtue of the mission closed his heart."

"That's still no consolation. Elijah and I are still through, no matter how you explain it."

"Fine. You are brokenhearted, but you will not have time to nurse it. Starting in the morning, you will be briefed and trained for your new mission."

"Is that a joke? My reason for joining this society no longer exists. I'm leaving."

"You still have a reason to stay, because you know deep down that what you're a part of is critical."

"Murder is wrong."

"Can you still say that after slaying the dragons that terrorize innocents? Admit it, Scarlett, you feel the rectitude of the mission."

I stare at Diana with dawning understanding. Reflecting on the validity of her reasoning, I know deep inside the enigmatic leader speaks the truth. I do enjoy ending the life of someone who had destroyed the life of others.

"You have a point."

"Of course I do, that's why I lead The Selective. With that out of the way, I have some good news."

"What?"

"You're getting a partner."

"Why a partner? I always work solo."

"Scarlett, while you're an exceptionally skilled assassin, the next few assignments require the special skills of another to work in concert with yours."

"What kind of specially trained person?"

"Once you have brought the selective near death, your partner will take over and finish the job by sucking the soul out of the damned and eliminating it for good."

"Jesus, what kind of a person can do that?"

Producing a picture from within her robes, the overseer hands it to me. "That handsome devil."

"A vampire? I'm sorry, Diana, but I refuse to work with a monster."

"Let me guess; you believe in old-fashioned prejudices."

"It's not a prejudice. My mother raised me to believe that vampires are evil, and to stay away from them at all costs."

"Not all vampires are deceptive and soulless, just like not all witches wear pointed hats and gather around a cauldron. This vampire has a pure heart and soul."

"How can you be sure?"

"I wouldn't have a deceiver work with us. I have seen his true nature."

Turning the portrait over in my hands, I study the soul sucker. My new partner's image radiates warmth. Eyes green as the summer leaves gaze back at me, piercing and compassionate. His full lips are curved in an affectionate smile, displaying sparkling, uneven teeth. His ruddy complexion and flat muscled physique speak volumes of his work ethic and strength.

"He's exceptional," Diana continues.

"Does my partner have a name? Or do I have to call him Soul Sucker?"

"That shining example of the supernatural calls himself Sebastian Sinclair, and you'll become acquainted with him in his homeland."

"Where's his homeland?"

"Read the file. Your destination is an otherworldly land shrouded in mist and teeming with natural beauty. Sleep well, Scarlett."

"Same to you."
Chapter 32

Sebastian

The heady fragrance of salt air and roses assails my senses as soft fingers grip my biceps, clinging tight. My arms cradle her, keeping her steady. My companion's quiet moans vibrate on my neck, stirring the lust in my blood. In the distance, I can hear the garbled murmuring of partygoers reverberate in the darkness. Our bodies are flush against the cold brick of the Jigs-n-Reels pub's rear, concealing us, preventing any interruption as I devour the bartender. My lips meet the subtle hollow of her neck, and I plant kisses in a pathway to her mouth.

I hover over that bow shape for several agonizing moments until the girl pleads, "Oh, God, Bass, please. Kiss me before I die from longing. Don't you know how long I've been after you?"

"No. How long, Janet?"

Mesmerized by my penetrating stare, Janet is unable to look away. Stroking her cheek, I send my flirting into overdrive. Janet's breathing grows erratic, her heartbeat races against my chest.

"Answer me, sweet girl. How long have you've been yearning for me? Dreaming about me late at night, leaving you sleepless, your desire driving you to madness?"

"T-too long. I've been waiting for you and Connie to break up."

"So you can help me pick up the pieces, hopefully to your bed?"

"Yeah."

"Then why haven't you done something to separate us?"

"I couldn't do that. I'm no home wrecker."

"You should've tried. I would've given in to you, easy."

"I thought you loved Connie."

"That fat bitch? Nah. I dated her 'cause the old man paid me big bucks. Didn't want his little dumpling being an outcast. You, on the other hand, are different. I wanted you all along."

"But you couldn't seek me out because you had to keep up appearances?"

"That's right, hun."

"What's changed? Why am I here with you now?"

"I'm an honest man, Janet. Everything about her and the situation was wrong. I gave her father back his money and broke it off."

"You're free to be with me?"

"Yep. That okay with you?"

"Oh, God yes. Come here."

The scent of her desire is overpowering, and I know she's ready. My lips move over hers with a gentle caress, teasing. Janet's greedy hands find their way under my sweater, stroking my chest and stomach before inching further south. Probing her mouth deeper, I sense the transformation is near. The painful pleasure of the dark power stirring within the depths, bubbling to the surface. The moment has come. There is no turning back. My body was ready to feed. Tendrils of the force explore the prey's inner sanctum, finding the spirit, releasing it from its home.

Janet's agonizing cry fuels the pleasure of the act. My eyes flutter open, and peer into the frightened eyes of the girl whose soul is being ripped from existence. The pungent smell of sweat and fear lingers in the air. After I consume her inner essence, Janet stares at me, her complexion pallid and her body quivering. Pointing, the empty human gasps.

"Your e-eyes. They're black as coal. How?"

Each transgression that I absorb brings orgasmic gratification. The target's sins of fraud and broken hearts and homes revive me.

"I've consumed your soul. Each disgrace you inflicted on your spirit blackens it. Every time you stole from your family to support your alcoholism, broke up another family because you couldn't control your lust, or intimidated another overweight person, is reflected in my pupils."

"What in the fuck are you?"

"I'm a soul vampire. A sucker of souls, if you will."

"Normally, I would laugh in your face and call you stark raving mad, but I feel empty. Will I die from this?"

"Not by anything I've done; you'll just be denied passage into heaven. Unless, of course, I say different."

"You have that power?"

"Your soul is now mine to do with as I please, once I've gotten what I need. I can send the soul to the great reward or in the opposite direction. I can even destroy it."

"What will you do with mine?"

"I will decide after you die."

"You mean I'll have to live with the torture of the unknown for decades?"

"You won't have to wait that long, Janet."

"Why? You said that I wouldn't die from you consuming my soul."

"That's right, but I didn't say anything about my sister."

Before she can react, the back door yawns open and a shadow steps forward, clamping its hand over Janet's mouth, smothering her cries. There is a low, guttural growl, and soon the chosen becomes lost in a flurry of fangs, muffled screams, and blood.
Chapter 33

Sebastian

An unforgiving consumption hangover incapacitates me, leaving me stranded in bed. Declynn, my ever loving sister, bounds into my bedroom, high from her latest feeding. Remorse doesn't burden my twin.

"Wake up, Bass, b'y. Stop slutting in the bed and get up, or you're going to be late to meet your new girlfriend."

"Scarlett isn't my new girlfriend; she's my partner in the Hopkin's Selective. Besides, you do remember that I'm still dating your best friend?"

"Yeah, whatever. I know you love Connie, and that's sweet and all, but we're immortal. That means we have an eternity of being with as many people as we want. Why limit yourself to one?"

"I'm sorry, Lynn, I can't see myself with anyone else but Connie."

"Really? Have you told her about being a vampire?"

"No. Have you?"

"I did."

"What? You told her? How did she react?"

"Let's just say we're no longer friends, and it took a lot of persuasion to keep her from calling the cops to bring me to the looney bin."

"I see that glint in your eye. What did you do next?"

"Provided her with proof. She became my latest grub job."

"Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph. For fuck sake, she was your best friend."

Declynn dismisses my anger by clicking her tongue and paging through the file detailing Scarlett's life. Her expression lightens as she studies her picture. I hear a low whistle. "Relax, brother. Con is just fine. I only took a little, and erased any memory of it."

"She doesn't remember you telling her the truth?"

"Oh, she still remembers, because I didn't erase that part. You need to tell Connie that you're a vampire."

"I'll do it someday."

Muttering under her breath, Declynn throws me a dress shirt and pants. "Get ready, Romeo. The lady awaits."

Clinking glasses, mingled with the drone-like conversations of family, friends, and lovers, fill the air of the exclusive fine dining establishment. Flanking the hostess as she escorts me to my 'date', my instincts are heightened by the scent of dark souls disguising themselves as members of the elite. I curb my urge to feast and extend my hand to the beautiful, elegant woman before me.

"You must be Scarlett. I'm Sebastian. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Sebastian. Thank you for coming."

My partner's sultry voice lilts in fluent, French-accented English. I accept a menu from the hostess who signals a waiter and promptly returns to her post.

"No problem. It's certainly nice to meet somewhere that is more elegant than a rustic bar on George Street."

"George Street?"

"Yeah. It's a street about a block or two long here in downtown St. John's, lined with nothing but bars and pubs."

"That sounds intriguing. Something I would like to check out while I'm here."

"If you like, I can take you. I promise it would be something to remember."

"Will your girlfriend mind if you do that?"

"Connie will not mind if I show a new friend the sights. She's an easygoing girl."

"She can come with us. As long as she doesn't become aware of our mission."

"Connie isn't the bar-hopping type, so it'll be just us."

"Okay, then. Why don't we order a nice dinner, on me, and settle in for a lovely evening? I'd like to get to know you beyond what I read in the file."

"Sounds good. What would you like?"

The waiter takes down our order, and brings Scarlett a glass of red wine and an imported beer for me. I relax and settle into a pleasant, easy going conversation with my dinner companion. The hostess has placed us in a private, secluded booth in the back of the restaurant.

Spicy aromas waft from the dishes as they are placed in front of us, inciting my appetite. The serrated edge of the knife slices into my filet minion, freeing its trapped juices. The meat is tender and flavourful. Scarlett smiles up at me from her identical meal.

"What convinced you to join The Selective?"

"The overall objective, mostly. When Diana introduced herself to me and Declynn a few weeks ago in our town bar, she was blunt and to the point."

"Oh yeah, how so?"

"Diana stated that she knew that my sister and I were vampires and who our creators were. She knew of our unique abilities and told me that we would be perfect for her organization."

"Let me guess—then she described the Hopkins Selective's purpose and informed you about me."

"That's right."

"When she finished, how did you react?"

"I was flabbergasted. Everything she explained was unbelievable."

"May I ask when it was you changed your mind?"

"Diana had already convinced my sister, who was on board after seeing the evidence. But with me, it took some more work."

"Understandable. What she was selling was hard to buy. However, I learned that our esteemed superior is a master of the craft of persuasion."

"Heh. Tell me about it. The leader placed her hands on my shoulders and peered deep into my eyes and asked me to reconsider because it was important. I swear, that's all it took."

Scarlett's face pales for a second before returning back to normal. "How does Declynn feel about her new role?"

"She is happy to be working with us. Though her role is different, it speaks to her talents."

After an enjoyable evening, Scarlett invites me back to her hotel room to discuss further business. I agree and hail us a taxi to the latest ten-story high rise to grace the capital's skyline.

Striking, opulent decor greets us as my host offers me a drink.

"I don't think I can drink another drop. I'm beyond full from supper."

"Are you sure? How about a cup of coffee, or a glass of water?"

"A glass of water will be fine, thank you."

Scarlett steps into the suite's kitchen. I saunter over to the window and pull back the drapes and admire the panoramic vista of the sparkling, majestic city.

"St. John's is certainly a gorgeous town, breathtaking. Did you come here often as a boy?"

"My mother was born and raised here, so we spent our summers visiting our grandparents. It was my favourite time of year, because my sister and I got to do so many neat things that weren't available in a small fishing village."

"It's nice to have a special place. Somewhere to escape to when things get rough."

"Did you have a place like that?"

"There was this old, rundown treehouse just a few feet in the woods outside our property. It was way up in the tree, so it was a devil to climb, but it was worth it to hide out for a while."

"Sounds awesome. Nice to know that you're not afraid of heights."

Turning away from the window, I follow Scarlett and take a seat next to her on the sofa. Sinking into the softness, the luxurious black leather cradles me like a cloud. It's so comfortable that I temporarily forget the purpose of being in the room.

"Comfortable, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I'm afraid that if I sit here much longer, I'll fall asleep. But, that's not what I came here to do. Please, tell me our plan for tomorrow's assignment."

Overflowing with photos of our target's crime scenes, surveillance and personal, they spill out of the file as Scarlett opens it. Gesturing to a mug shot of the graceful, statuesque twenty-something, my partner sums up her crimes in a nutshell.

"Wait a minute, you know this woman, don't you?"

"My grandmother was the Hayward's housekeeper, and raised Isabel until she turned fourteen."

"Will this be a problem for you? If you have any attachments to this woman, it's best if you step aside until the next one."

"No, we were never friends. Isabel treated me like a piece of trash. Besides after the horrific acts she committed against humanity, I have no qualms about taking her soul."

"Very well. Let's do a trial run of our entrance, procedure, and exit strategy."

Strolling through the sprawling, sophisticated ballroom, I observe graceful couples looping and swooping on light feet, looking for my target. A woman in a long, flowing dress stands with her back to me, speaking with a portly gentleman in a tailored tuxedo.

Positioning myself at the bar directly in her line of sight, I order a scotch, neat, and settle in. Aware of her profile, I know that Isabel Hayward's ego is stroked by endless compliments about her appearance. She craves male attention and has an insatiable appetite for sex. By looking at the pattern of victims she tortured and killed, she prefers blond, fit, sharp-dressed men with deep voices. Scarlett warned me not to approach her, but let her come to me.

Isabel continues her conversation with her companion, not noticing me until she glances over his shoulder, and we make eye contact. A flicker of recognition flits across her face. Whispering something to her friend, Isabel sashays over to me.

"Excuse me, you look familiar. Have we met before?"

"Yes, Isabel, we have. I'm Sebastian Sinclair. My grandmother was your housekeeper."

"Of course, Sebastian. How have you've been?"

"Oh, I was having an off day, but I'm all better now that you're here."

"Cheesy line, Bayman. Though I like it."

"Glad you do. What about you, how have you've been?"

"I've been doing quite well since the last time I saw you. I'm successful in all areas of my life but one."

"Hmmm. I find that hard to believe. What area in your life could you be lacking?"

"Why would you say that?"

Casually, I slide my hand over her arm, barely touching her skin, keeping my tone seductive. "There are many things that I can easily see. Stunning beauty and an intellect to match. You excel at the office, not just by skill, but respect and admiration from your employees."

"I do. Go on."

"You also have a large social circle and a social calendar to match. Am I right?"

"You must be psychic."

"No, I just have a talent for observation. That's why I'm struggling to see what you're lacking. 'Cause from where I'm sitting, I see nothing."

Isabel closes the gap between us; her eyes darting around the room to ensure privacy. Her hand grasps mine, placing it on her chest. The alluring young woman's breath brushes against my cheek.

"Okay, Sebastian, I'll tell you. Love. I'm lacking real love. The perfect man. I've had yet to find him." The seductress slides closer to me, her lips brushing my ear. "There have been many failures. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Don't be so foolish. It's not you. It's them. These idiots are blind and brainless."

"That may be, but there are no good men out there."

"Really? Are you sure?"

Our gazes lock, and I sense the echoes of compliance. All I have to do is to pour the charm on in small doses throughout the night. The early notes of a spirited refrain fill the room, piping over simultaneous conversations of the diners. Offering Isabel my hand, I sweep her across the spacious floor. The epitome of grace and beauty fills the entirety of my vision.

Soft golden ribbons of silk fall over her shoulder in curls. Her brilliant virescent eyes. The plunging neckline. For a moment, I fall into her trance, until the memories of the men she mutilated and murdered snap me back.

"Sebastian, forgive me for being so forward, but would you like to get out of here? We can go someplace more private and talk?"

"It's getting too stuffy in here, isn't it? Where do you want to go?"

"Follow me. I'll lead the way."

A pastel sheet of many colours bursts over the horizon, lighting up the sky with a mixture of patterns. A chorus of oohs and ahs echo from the party attendees from the deck. Isabel and I enjoy them on the beach, separate from the others.

"They go all out for this fundraiser, don't they?"

"The point of any fundraiser is to raise as much money as possible for the chosen charity. The flasher the show, the bigger the tally at the end of the night."

"Makes sense. I guess it gives the contributors more bang for their buck. Pun intended."

The heiress of a global marine supply corporation snuggles closer to me. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I nuzzle her neck. A low purr emanates from her core. Isabel breaks her gaze from the fireworks and whispers a proposal in my ear.

"Take me back to your place, and we can do some more catching up."

Her proximity and sultry tone ignite my instincts. The familiar ache of pleasure-pain creeps along my centre mass, snaking its way through my veins, heating my blood until my skin flushes. The distant calling of her spirit sings, taunting me, daring me to liberate it.

"Yeah. Let's go. It's not far."

Helping Isabel to her feet, I take the killer's hand and lead her to her fate.

Chapter 34

Declynn

Thunder claps overhead. Its percussion rattles the earth beneath my feet. Sheets of rain soak me through as lightning explodes in the sky. Ignoring nature's attempt to unnerve me, I wait in the shadow of a lamp post for his arrival. Pressing my hands deeper into my unpractical leather jacket, I lean against the side of a dilapidated convenience store and grow impatient. Grumbling under my breath, I curse the man's tardiness. Tonight is my night to go hunting. Plans to scope out the action in the many clubs of George Street, looking for my next meal are postponed because he wanted to see me. At last, a long, sleek black vehicle pulls up alongside me. The rear window rolls down, revealing a void. A voice beckons me.

"Forgive my tardiness. The last appointment took longer than expected."

"Yeah, whatever, chief. Whatever you got to tell me, do it quick. I'm freezing and hungry."

"Stop exaggerating, Declynn. You're a vampire. Cold has no effect on you. I promise I'll be brief. Then you can get to your dinner."

A simple white envelope appears through the opening. "What's this?"

"Take it. It's your next assignment and your fee."

I thumb through the wad of bills, making sure that Doctor Leblanc didn't gip me.

"When have I cheated you out of your payment?"

"Just making sure, Doc. I gotta keep my guard up, b'y. Don't know who'll stab ya in the back."

"Very well. Don't be late for your job. You play a critical role in this organization. Your fellow members count on you. Good luck."

The window closes, eliminating any further conversation. My creator slips away, leaving me in the rain to watch as the limo melts into the night.

The aroma of fresh homemade bread and brewed tea greets me when I enter the house. Mom is sipping from a cup and involved in an intense conversation with the person across from her at the kitchen table. On closer inspection, I'm surprised to see who her guest is.

"Con? Why are you here?"

Connie's body freezes, her expression sour, with an underlining hint of fear. My mother, witnessing the silent exchange, stands and takes the dirty dishes.

"Ah, I better tend to these before the blueberry jam stains the plate. Would you like a cup of tea, Declynn?"

"Not right now, Mudder. I get some Tetley later."

When my mother disappears into the kitchen and out of ear shot, I confront my former best friend, stopping her from leaving.

She struggles to free herself from my grip in a desperate attempt to flee, but I hold firm.

"Con, answer me. Why are you here?"

"I'm visiting your mother. It's been awhile since I seen her."

"Bull. You weren't chums with Mudder...why start now?"

Connie couldn't look me in the eye. Instead, her gaze roamed the room. There's a slight tremble in her arm as she fights to maintain her composure. I feel the blood heat under her chilled skin. The heart in her chest jackhammers. Sebastian's girlfriend is on the verge of falling apart, and I'm growing hungry.

"Declynn, get your filthy monster paws off me."

I pull her closer until we're just a breath's length away. "Really? I seem to recall that you didn't mind putting your mitts over another 'monster.'"

"What in the fuck are you getting on about?"

"I know about the night you practically raped my brother."

Connie's face washes of all expression, and she blanches. "Y-you know about that? Sebastian told you?"

"Of course not. Sebastian is not the kiss-and-tell type. I read his mind and discovered your dirty little secret. How could you do that to him? He loves you."

Flush with shame, Constance Murray relents and sinks into a chair, and I relax my grip.

"I didn't mean to do it. I've been afraid of losing him again, and when I saw those shanks size him up like a piece of meat, I snapped."

"Did you explain to Bass why?"

"I thought you read his mind?"

"I need to hear it from you."

"Yes, and like a gentleman, he let me down gently and forgave me. Even after that, I'm here betraying him."

"How are you betraying him?"

"I can't handle that the two people I love the most treat humans as nothing more than a meal. I came to tell your mother that I'm leaving for a job on the mainland tonight."

"Are you coming back?"

"No."

"Does Sebastian know?"

"No. I'm just slipping away quietly and giving him his life back."

My palm whips across the coward's face with a sharp, stinging slap. Connie shrinks back, her hand cradling the red welt across her cheek, and tears well up in her eyes.

"You fucking angishore. Instead of growing a pair and tell him to his face, you wimp out. Get out of my sight before I drain your body."

Without another word, my ex-confidant scurries away, fleeing for her life.

Within moments, a wave of overwhelming disappointment and disgust washes over me. Apparently finished her chore, my mother emerges back into the kitchen and scolds me.

"Was that necessary?"

"What, Mom?"

"That slap? I know that Constance is taking the easy way out in breaking my son's heart, but she didn't deserve that form of violence."

"Well, I'm not sorry. She deserved it. Connie is lucky I didn't do worse."

"Declynn Sinclair. You will not utter such foolishness under this roof again. Do you hear me?"

Elizabeth Sinclair glares at me, her finger wagging in my face, reprimanding me like a naughty toddler. I tune out her rant. When my mother finishes her lecture, I merely nod and promise not to do it ever again.

Once calm reigns supreme in the Sinclair household, I enjoy a cup of Tetley with my mother. She catches me up with the latest Stoker's Cove news of the week, and I keep up my charade of the uneventful life of a single gal in St. John's.

"Is Sebastian doing well?"

"Mom, he only called you yesterday."

"Yeah, but still, anything can happen in a day."

"That's true. Bass is fine. He is keeping busy as St. Luke's financial director."

"It's nice that he's making sure that the church can tend to the needy. You like working with your brother?"

"I do. Reception is not a skilled position, but it pays the bills."

Mother sips her tea. Her thoughts are far away, and as usual, have only one focus. Her golden boy, Sebastian. She worries how he is going to handle Connie's cruel way of breaking off their relationship. How my brother been coping with his new surroundings and how stressful his job was.

If she only knew what he was doing at this very moment.

Chapter 35

Scarlett

Waves of gold silk fan across the pillow. Soft moans hum through scarlet-stained lips. The hands of her lover leisurely reveal the bare skin underneath the satin sheets. He kisses a pathway down to her navel, teasing the apex between her thighs. A sudden sting to her bikini line interrupts her dream-like state, but only for a moment. A tingling sensation and liquid warmth return the rapture. The beauty's eyes flutter open. Her lips curl into a hazy, blissful smile. Caressing the chiseled jaw of the man she just reunited with last night, the heiress sighs, content. In one night, she has found the one thing that has taken her years to discover: true love.

Sebastian slides out of bed, covering his nudity with the dress pants he had worn at the party. Kissing Isabel on the lips, he promises a quick return with breakfast. Sauntering past the closet, adjusting the belt on his trousers, Sebastian exits the room. It's time for me to emerge.

Still as the grave, I remain at the foot of the bed and wait. Shrugging off the sheets, Isabel rises and attempts to leave to have a shower before her new lover returns. Her legs fail her. The target's confusion and frustration are palpable. A string of mumbled curses follow. I can no longer contain my amusement. A chuckle announces my presence.

"What the fuck? Who in the hell are you? How did you get in here?"

Isabel scrambles to cover her naked body, but she fumbles the sheet. Her arms are like dead weights. I assist her by pulling the bedclothes over her exposure. Scowling at me, the wanton woman once again demands answers.

"Instead of worrying about who I am and how I got access to your new boy toy's apartment, shouldn't you be questioning why you can't move?"

"Of course I want to know, but identify and explain yourself first."

"Very well. My name is Scarlett. Sebastian is my partner, and he let me in."

"To hide in the closet? To watch?"

"The reason goes beyond that, Isabel."

"How do you know my name?"

"Isabel Hayward. Age twenty. Lives at home with parents, Daniel and Danielle Hayward. You are their only child, thus making you the sole heir to their marine supply company fortune."

"Okay, so you Googled me. So what? You a stalker or something?"

Squeezing the button on the remote in my pocket, the walls slide open, revealing surrounding ceiling to floor screens. Pictures of her crimes appear in quick succession on the screens, in clear, high-definition glory. It's a macabre gallery of blood and gore. Naked men tortured beyond recognition; their bodies mutilated and decorated with engraved letters, declaring their betrayals, while their severed manhoods lie at their feet.

In the corner, holding an instrument of death, is Isabel, striking a pose.

The Selected's expression is washed of all emotion; her face drained of blood. "W-where did you get these?"

"These were easy to obtain. I persuaded your lawyer to hand them over. Seems she feared being disbarred for withholding critical evidence from the police and the Crown. Heh."

"What's so funny?"

"I'm just thinking it took some balls and fierce loyalty and or big bucks to pull that one off. The woman put her career and freedom on the line for you. Geez, lady, that's devotion."

Sebastian's venom is rapidly saturating Isabel's circulatory system. She is now gasping for air; her limbs pinned to the bed with the paralyzing agent in the vampire's saliva. Retrieving the oxygen unit out of my hiding place, I affix the mask, providing Isabel's lungs with fresh air.

She stops gasping and tries to speak.

"Now, now. Please, don't try to talk. You'd just be robbing your body of the energy it needs to live. I can't have you going and dying on me when there is so much fun to be had."

Making sure the unit is secure, I waltz on over to the pictures and proceed with my presentation.

"Looking at these pictures in detail, I notice that neither of them was drugged or bound. I wonder how a petite gal like yourself managed to subdue someone who is twice the size and strength?"

The killer's strangled cries attempt to win my attention. It fails.

"After much research, I found the answer. You subdued them by psychological torture."

I strut to the closet and press a button, uncovering the last and largest screen. Addressing the helpless seductress, I switch on the monitor, and a display of an elegantly styled room comes into view. Isabel's garbled protest confirms that she recognizes her father's study.

"You kept your victims under your control by giving their loved ones a front row seat to your revenge."

Within moments, a cloaked figure comes into view, dragging Isabel's bound and gagged parents and shoving them onto the couch in front of the monitor. It takes several seconds for the Haywards to understand what they're seeing. Synchronized strangled cries emanate from the couple. Their daughter's muffled protest mirrors their misery.

"Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Hayward. I wish it were better circumstances we were meeting under, but what can one do? What you're going to witness is your daughter answering for the horrors she inflicted on innocents."

A camera circles around the room, providing the gut-wrenching truth. The parents' tanned skin blanches; their bodies tremble with the shock of Isabel's atrocities. When Danielle turns her head away, their guard turns her head, holding it, forcing the distressed mother to absorb the images.

"I promise justice will be swift."

Isabel's eyes plead for mercy, her raspy voice begging me to turn off the monitor and let her mom and dad go. With me, she finds no sympathy.

"The reason behind your killing spree is simplistic. Lavished with attention from both your parents, they overfilled your life with the immaterial and material.

"Because of this, you expected everyone else in your life to do the same. At first, you were lucky; everyone in your narrow circle did. Family, staff, friends and boyfriends lived up to your expectations. Then," I pause for dramatic effect, "came Phillip O'Brian, your first serious relationship. After devoting yourself to him for three years, he ended it. Here's how you handled the breakup."

Screen number one showed the image of a young man in his late teens, lying spread-eagle on a bed. His flesh and once golden hair are painted red with the blood flowing from the slash across his throat. Phillip's genitals lie at his feet.

"This was how you coped with each man that broke your heart by either not loving you back or not living up to your standards. Through trickery and bribes, you managed to stay out of jail."

I conclude my presentation of the evidence in my makeshift courtroom and stand next to the defendant, then whisk the fire poker from its stand by the fireplace and show it to the flames.

The tip glows orange-red. I push it against her cheek. The flesh around the poker sizzles like bacon frying in a pan. Instantly it blisters, bulging red and white before it bursts. Blood oozes from her mouth, half choking her screams.

"Oooh, that's gotta sting. I bet you're wondering, why a poker?"

Isabel's face contorts in agony. Her eyes shut tight against the pain. I force her eyes open by reapplying the iron to the wound.

"I'm using a poker because of your MO. You used the tools of the victim's trade as the murder weapon, and since we associate fireplaces with your method of seduction, it seems appropriate."

The tip had cooled in the midst of her guttural cries and shrieks from the audience, but I continue to use it. Stabbing at random her numb limbs and torso. Even though she couldn't feel it, her parents did through the act of watching. Isabel's teary eyes find mine and search for mercy and answers. She finds no respite. Her face and hair are slick with sweat and tears. Screeches have given away to shallow breaths. The venom has worn off, allowing for movement, but exhaustion keeps her pinned to the bed.

I notice my partner waiting in the wings for his turn. Sebastian signals me that the time has come. Stepping away from the target, I denote the remote that cuts off the video feed to the Hayward's residence, thus prompting the Selective member to untie them and leave the premises.

Sebastian sits by Isabel's side and removes the oxygen. Stroking her cheek and hair, the zealous butcher's gaze returns to her lover, offering him a weak smile. "S-Sebastian. You're here."

"Shhh, don't speak. I'm here to save you. Just lay still; I will make this as quick as possible."

The vampire cradles the prey, caressing her disheveled mane and raining kisses down to her lips. His mouth moves over Isabel's, appearing to be a prelude to a passionate kiss. I watch in awe as Sebastian's irises mirror the night sky. Inky strands snake through his veins, his body absorbing the dark spirit. It's a moment that entrances me. I am lost in the beauty of a soul departing, blocking out Isabel's ear-piercing shrieks.
Chapter 36

Sebastian

Isabel lies still, wrapped in a shroud of silk. The cleaner has arrived and is completing the final stage of our mission. The vapour of her existence has saturated every cell and is wrecking havoc.

Waves of nausea wash over me, a cold sensation freezes me to my spot and the world around me starts to spin. Visions flash through my brain, like a family's slideshow. The images are out of focus. Echoes of children's laughter buzz in my ears. I press my hands to them, squeezing my head in a vice-like grip in an effort to shut out the mirage of sight and sound.

Isabel's dead, but her spirit is torturing me. The darkness of her evil churns my gut, and I empty a golden liquid onto the floor. Grasping blind for anything to regain equilibrium, my hand grips flesh, and a strong arm holds me still.

"Sebastian, are you ill? Do you need to lie down?"

"Please, Scarlett. Help me."

"Come, Scarlett, lay my brother down here."

"What's going on? How did you fall sick so quickly?"

"It's Isabel's soul. Her twisted essence is doing a number on a system that's not used to this level of darkness. Give him some time, and Bass will be okay."

"Isn't there anything I can do to help?"

"Just let him rest and watch him in case of any change. Call me if it does. I got to go and place Isabel's body where someone can locate it."

Through my blurry vision, I see Scarlett press a cold compress on my forehead. It numbs the throbbing behind my eyelids for a brief moment before the pain returns. My muscles seize and contort before spasming. My vocal chords are the last thing that clench, preventing me from expressing my agony.

"Sebastian, I know you can hear me, so I need you to do one thing for me. Never stop looking into my eyes. I'm going to help you."

My partner sits astride me; her gaze never wanders. Her hands apply firm pressure on my shoulders. She chants in a foreign language in rapid succession until the words reach a jumbled crescendo. My muscles relax, and the torment subsides.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you. That was incredible."

"Where did Lynn go?"

"To complete the final stage. She untied the Haywards, effectively erasing their memories, replacing them with new ones. Now she's situating the body for discovery."

"What's the cover story?"

"Accident. Your venom served its purpose, to paralyze and to heal. Her body is pristine, save the injuries from her 'fall'."

"What's next on the agenda?"

"Rest. Once you've taken what you need and purged the soul, we'll be contacted about another mission."

Scarlett and I sit in quiet reflection. Her stare is thousand miles away. Her thoughts are conflicted, but clear. My partner's turmoil concerning the current path she's on fades to a deep hurt. A loss. The most important reason for becoming a vigilante assassin no longer exists. Her broken heart is chipping away at her morality. I reach for her hand, and without thinking, Scarlett laces her fingers through mine, resting them on her lap.

"Sebastian?"

"Hmm?'

"Will you consider fulfilling your promise to me, and take me to that magical street where broken hearts and confused minds are wiped away with wine?"

"Of course. When did you want to go?"

"You feel like going now?"

"Sure, give me five."

Beer soaked patrons mill around the stage, cheering the house band and dancing in their spots. Those who aren't creating new dents on the floor are caught up in a hockey game, arguing amongst themselves about whose team is better. As I guide Scarlett through the bar, she stays close to me until we find an empty booth close to the stage.

"Wow, is it always this crowded?"

"Yep. Especially when The Punters play. They're a local group making their mark in the East coast music scene. They draw a crowd wherever they go."

"They sound fantastic."

"Care to dance?"

"I don't know if I can. I'm a mainlander, remember?"

"Eh, come on. It's not ballet or ballroom dancing. It's the Newfie Jig; you don't need any skill. Just hold on tight and let me guide you."

Several dances later, I assist my exhausted, giddy companion back to our table and order us a couple of drinks. The band was taking a break, bringing the noise down to a dull roar, allowing us to talk without shouting.

"Whew. That was tiring, but what fun. I never had this much of a good time in a long while."

"I'm glad. It's a great way to relieve stress. I like coming here at least three times a month."

"I can see why. This must be one of the best drinks I ever had. What do you call it again?"

"It's just Screech. A Jamaican rum. Most people find it strong."

"Mmm. Not me. It's smooth and refreshing. I feel all warm and tingling inside."

"That's maybe because this is your fifth one? Your taste buds are immune to it now."

Scarlett sips on her drink and watches the people around her, grinning at something rare. Humanity as it should be, carefree, happy and at peace. For a moment, she is lost in reflection, and a small tear slides down her flushed cheek before she brushes it away.

"Scarlett, are you alright?"

My voice snaps her back to the present. Scarlett attempts to disguise her despondency with a forced smile. "Yeah, I'm all right."

The Punters return, and a romantic ballad infuses the bar. Couple's enter the dance floor and cuddle close, swaying to the music. Scarlett's hand reaches out and squeezes my own.

"Sebastian?"

"Hmmm?"

"Dance with me."

Her arms wrap around me and squeezes, burying her face in my shoulder for one warm moment before pulling away. The longer we dance, the more I notice Scarlett's body relaxing, and her mood lifts.

"Feel better?"

"I do. I'm sorry for my sullen mood. Seeing these couples being so loving and affectionate brought back memories of Elijah. It still hurts."

"I understand. It must be hard to let go of a relationship that you believed would last forever. Not that I'm an expert on heartbreak or anything."

"You get it, and that's all that matters. I'm happy that you have someone in your life that feels as you do."

"Yeah, what me and Connie have is special. We love each other very much."

"Have you been talking about a deeper commitment?"

"We always talked about marriage, but I don't think she's ready for that yet. She says we should enjoy what we have now and worry about a lifetime commitment later."

"How do you feel about that? You're ready, and she's not."

"I love her, and I'm willing to wait for as long as it takes. I have the gift of an extra-long life expectancy. I have that luxury."

"Sebastian Sinclair, you are one of a kind. Connie is a lucky girl."

"We're both lucky."

The song fades into another Jig-n-Reel. This time my dance partner refuses to participate, opting to return to our seats. As we traverse through the crowd, Scarlett alerts me to a couple locked in a passionate embrace, feverishly kissing.

"Wow, that's intense. Geez, they need to get a room. They're practically screwing in public."

"That's nothing new. It's a common, seeing a young couple getting a little too amorous after a few drinks."

I'm about to laugh it off and continue my enjoyable evening, when I notice something familiar about the girl wrapped around the man she's devouring. His lips have left her mouth to nibble along her throat to the crook of her neck. She lets loose a string of giggles, and for a brief second, she looks in my direction.

My world begins to spin, and I reach out to steady myself. Scarlett catches me and holds me upright. I can't comprehend what I'm seeing.

"Sebastian, what's the matter? You look like you seen a ghost."

Gathering my strength and will, I approach the couple. The girl tears herself away from her lover, her pallor is ashen. Scarlett and the entire club vanishes from my conscience, leaving just me and the woman before me.

"Connie?"

"Sebastian, please, let me explain."

"There's no need. I can see with my two eyes what's going on. I just want to know why."

"The reason is difficult, and I don't know where to start."

"Okay, begin with this. Who is he?"

"His name is Gil, and he's my fiancé."

"Y-your what?"

"Fiancé."

"I know, I heard that part. But what I'm trying to get my head around is how in the fuck could you have a fiancé when you're with me?"

"I haven't been with you since you came back. I've been pretending."

"Pffft, if that were true, then how come you wept when you explained why you assaulted me in your car? Were you pretending then?"

"Yes. I met Gil in the midst of my grief. He was the one who healed me. We fell in love, and will marry in a month." Her expression is resolute and firm.

"Then why didn't you just tell me that when we reunited? Why did you continue to make me believe that you still loved me?"

"A part of me still did. I dreamt for weeks about you being alive and returning. When it became a reality, it fucked me up big time."

"I can understand that part, but why lie? Once the shock of seeing me wore off, why didn't you tell me about this happy new life?"

"I didn't want to hurt you."

"Yes, it would've hurt for a while, but I would've been happy for you. Your happiness was important to me."

"I'm sorry, Sebastian."

"Connie, take your new lover and get the fuck away from me. I don't want to see your face again."

"Don't say that, Sebastian. We've been friends since we're kids. Don't throw our friendship away like Lynn did."

"Then for once, my sister did something smart. Good-bye, Constance."

I see tears well up in the betrayer's eyes. She starts to reach for my hand, but before she can, I turn and walk away.

My heart shatters into a thousand pieces, waking the demons. I take several deep breaths and dig my fingernails into my palms, then push them back down.

My heart rate has slowed, and the rage melts into deep sadness. Still oblivious to my surroundings, I drift away on my despair until a feather-like touch on my shoulder rouses my awareness.

"Sebastian, you want to go home?"

"Why?"

"You know why."

"You heard that, did you? I'm twenty years old and just experienced my first failed relationship. I'm a real chucklehead."

"You are the furthest thing from being stupid." Scarlett's fingers intertwine with mine. "I'm exhausted and starved. Accompany me back to the hotel, and I'll order us room service."

"Okay, lead the way."

The silent journey to the hotel gives me time to reflect. By the time we arrive and enter the luxurious suite, I change my mind. It's tempting to step over the threshold and find comfort in the beautiful witch's arms, but I can't. I stand frozen as Scarlett beckons me to come and share a cup of tea while she lends me her ear and shoulder if I should need it.

"You're hesitant. Don't feel that it's right to spend the night with another woman, even if it's just to talk?"

"Yes. That's right. I'm sorry. It's just too soon, and I'm still raw. I just want to go home and drink until I pass out."

"I understand. Let me call you a taxi."

"No, thanks, that's not necessary. I walk. The fresh air will do me good. Good night, Scarlett."

"Good night, Sebastian."

My twin's alcohol-infused rant shimmers, but its effects still ring in my ears. Declynn saunters into the kitchen, swipes a beer from the fridge, and drops onto the couch. She lights a cigarette. Plumes of smoke rise from between her fingers.

"Since when did you take up smoking?"

"I picked it up after Alex threw me out with the trash. Don't scowl; it's not like these are going to kill me. I need them to relax."

"Fine. I'll keep my comments to myself. I heard that you were visiting Mom not that long ago. How is she?"

"She's doing grand. Can't keep her mind off you, though."

"Come on, not this again. You know she worries over you."

"I don't think so. You're her golden child. I'm the dyke whore who drinks too much."

"It's not that way; Mom loves you."

"I wish I could believe you, brudder. I have the scars to prove otherwise."

My memories billow like the smoke between Declynn's fingers. Shrieking, followed by the nauseating crunch of bones breaking, reverberates in my memories. Warm whiskey breath couches demeaning remarks that accompany a sharp, stinging slap.

Back in the moment, I notice Declynn's faraway stare, her recollections mingling with mine. Tears streak down her cheeks. Realizing we are lost in the same moment, she throws walls up around her emotions, sealing me out. Downing the beer in one gulp and crushing her cigarette into the bottle, my twin retreats into the safety of the night.

Exhausted from the forty-eight hour emotional roller coaster ride, I stand under a hot, soothing spray in an effort to clear my mind. Surrendering after several infuriating minutes, I emerge into a steam cloaked bathroom. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I whisk the last bottle of beer and slump into the easy chair. The upbeat chime of my doorbell lures me from my self-pity. Lumbering to the door, I open it and discover Scarlett holding a six pack and a large paper bag. Her gaze travels down my entire length. A blush caresses her cheeks briefly. Clearing her throat, she smiles, holding out her offering.

"I wasn't sure if you've had eaten anything yet, so I brought you this. Care for some company?"

"Scarlett, there's nothing I would love more."
Chapter 37

Declynn

Pacing around the cold, barren room, my hands tremble with the memory that Sebastian implanted into my mind. I draw in a ragged breath through gritted teeth and struggle to banish the horror of the not so distant past.

"No. No. No. No. Stop it. Get out of my head. You don't control me anymore."

"Calm yourself, Declynn. You're right; she can't control you anymore. You don't need her love. You have all the love you need."

A disembodied voice echoes overhead. Its familiarity washes over me, bringing me peace. I scan the room in search of the only person who can offer me comfort. Unable to find her, I call out into the darkness.

"What love are you talking about? 'Cause right now, I'm not seeing any."

"You don't believe that Sebastian provides you with the love you need?"

"Sebastian is the perfect one. The reason I suffer."

"Then why haven't you ended the cause?"

"I've imagined ways to dispose of the reason, but can't carry any of them out."

"That should be a clue that in reality, you don't hate him."

"I don't. I try to hate him because this voice in my head says I should, but I can't. Bass hasn't let me down."

"Since you've established who your family is, it's time to purge who isn't."

"I know my mother has done some horrid things to me because she believes I'm a sin in the world, but to kill her? That's extreme."

"Was it extreme to do what you did to your father, when he loved and protected you?"

"Please, don't remind me of that. I've have struggled to forget."

"I know about the endless nightmares because your guilt-wracked conscience prevents you from sleeping. You're a cursed girl, Declynn."

"How do I get the curse lifted?"

"It's not a magic spell that doomed you. You cursed yourself. The only way to free yourself is to accept who you are."

"Please, tell me how can I accept who I am, when I have yet to figure it out?"

"It's a query you'll have to figure out on your own."

My desperate pleas for assistance are swallowed by the still, empty night. Diana abandons me with my demons, leaving the darkness to blanket the fire in my heart.
Chapter 38

Scarlett

Rolling around the strange golden bits on the Styrofoam plate with the fork, Sebastian chuckles while I try to identify what they are. He reaches over and stabs the mystery food, guiding it to my mouth.

"Take a bite, girl. It's just a scrunchion, not poison."

The morsel crunches and plays on my tongue, leaving a salty aftertaste. My dinner companion waits for my critique.

"So, how is it?"

"It's quite good, but what is it supposed to be?"

"Just some fat-back pork fried up with the cod. I glad you like it. I'm wondering how you knew to order fish-n-brews?"

"The owner of Frank's says he knew you, and said that this was your favourite. I decided to try it."

On the rooftop of Sebastian's apartment complex, the capital city glows around us, the faint sounds of seagulls crying and cars echoing in the distance.

"May I ask what inspired you to leave your bed in the middle of the night and bring me my favourite beer and food?"

"I was worried about you. You've had the wind knocked out of you and your heart broken; this is my excuse to check up on you."

My dinner companion chews the remains of his meal, licking his lips to savour the last bite. The casual movement of his tongue sweeping across his full mouth unnerves me. Images of those lips and tongue exploring my fevered skin, mingling with the sight of Sebastian in a towel, fill my daydreams.

"Yohoo, Space Cadet. Come back to earth. I's still speaking to ya."

Pulling myself back to the present, my face burns at the memory of the erotic daydream. Sebastian's expression is a cross between bemusement and genuine concern.

"Are you all right, Scarlett? You zoned out on me for a minute."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I just got lost in thought."

"No worries. I get set adrift in my own world all the time. I just thanked you for being considerate. The beer, food, and your company have lifted my spirits."

"I'm glad. It's nice to have a casual night and enjoy the simplicity life offers for a change. What we do is justified but draining."

"Mmm, you're right, this is nice. A breathtaking view, delicious scoff, and a beautiful companion. What more can a man ask for?"

The crimson flashing across my cheeks doesn't go unnoticed.

Sebastian reaches over and tucks the veil of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my inflamed flesh for a brief second before pulling away, suddenly becoming interested in his beer.

"Ah, yeah. I'm getting low on the brew, and it's getting a bit chilly. Do you want to come inside?"

"Yes I do. I will gather the garbage."

"You don't need to do that."

"I insist."

"Sure. Let me help."

Soft grey eyes track my movements across the room, its opulent decor boasting privilege and wealth. The chandelier illuminates the room in a thousand shimmering crystals, providing the ideal ambiance for the events of this evening. The bed draped in silk provides a momentary distraction. My partner stands in silence in the corner, observing, though concealed by the shadows. The faint scent of mint and spice mingles in the air, assailing my senses. Memories of Sebastian's half naked body wrapped in the towel and the promise of what lay beneath morph into both of our bodies tangled in those sheets. The luxurious material clenched in my hands as I breathe his name over and over. Squeezing my eyes tight, I will the forbidden images away and continue with the task at hand.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sebastian. It's time."

"It's not too late to back out. I know it's been a while. Your heart isn't completely healed."

"Neither has yours."

The vampire's hands slide up and down my arms and across the shoulders, kneading the flesh. Deep, soothing pressure circles my shoulder blades, and in an instant, my tension unwinds. An all-encompassing peace radiates through me. I can't stop the whimper from escaping my lips. Embarrassed, I pull away, but Sebastian holds me until the tension has released.

"There. That's better. Nice and relaxed. We've waited a long time for this, Scarlett, and I want it to be perfect."

The breath hitches in my throat. "I-it will be, Sebastian, I promise."

"I know. I trust you. I've been anticipating this since we met. I can't wait to make this a night we both will never forget."

Steadying my trembling hands, I brace my body against the bed, lean in, and remove the material from the mouths of our latest conquest.

"I don't understand why you're here. What could my husband and I have possibly done to deserve this, this, torture?"

"Marie Smyth, for decades, you and your husband have hidden behind your statuses and influence to disguise your crimes. Today, you'll face retribution."

"First off, it's Judge Smyth, and I would like proof of these alleged sins."

"Oh, I have proof."

"You better pray that this evidence is substantial, because you are messing with the wrong couple. Our influence stretches far and wide. With one phone call, you'd be ruined."

Sliding the landline next to Marie, I dare her. "Go ahead, make that phone call. Let's see what you got."

The judge's slender fingers strain to reach the receiver, the wrinkles on her hand tightening with the effort. My fingers tap out a steady rhythm on my crossed legs as I observe her struggle.

"What's the matter, Your Worship? The phone is right there. Dial already."

"You know damn well I can't. You paralyzed us."

"That's right, I did. My bad."

Whipping the phone from the bed, I place it back on the night table. My gaze flits over to Greg Smyth, who is silent as the grave. Strutting over to his side, I sit at the foot and flash Greg a broad grin. "Ah, yes, Mr. Gregory Smyth. Judge Marie Smyth's obedient lap dog for forty-five years. That's a long time to be her personal yes-man."

Leaning in closer, I straighten out the collar of his silk pyjamas. Greg's silver stare bores through me, and hate seeps into his expression, but he remains quiet.

"Seriously, don't you find it demeaning? You're on the fast track to the PMO, for fuck's sake. How could you let a mere woman emasculate you?"

"Insult my husband all you want; he'll never respond. A man of his stature does not stoop down to filth."

"You both are defiant now, but I guarantee that by the time the sun rises, I have him singing like a canary."

"We have nothing to confess. We didn't do anything wrong."

"I wouldn't be so cocksure of that. Our intel tells a different story. It has uncovered all sorts of skeletons in your combined closets."

"Everyone has secrets, but I'm confident that you never found anything incriminating."

"Interesting. We found plenty of evidence that points to a pedophilia ring. There's proof that you sold hundreds of pictures of children various stages of undress to other pedophiles."

"Ludicrous. That's a disgusting accusation."

Retrieving a thick folder, I open it up, its contents spilling out over the bed. Documents detailing the addresses, names and physical descriptions of targets ages five to fifteen lay on their laps. Overhead, a burst of static, then the voices of the Minister of Justice and his magistrate wife confess decades worth of private deals with the scum Judge Smyth put away to rot in federal cells. Millions of dollars funnelled through off-shore bank accounts sealing their coffin glared at them. Greg's expression washes blank, his lips quivering with the guilt. Marie's manner remains dispassionate.

"Your lives gave you the perfect cover. Who would suspect a judge who is notorious for issuing tough sentences on child molesters and her genteel, honest politician husband are demented scum?"

"Fine, you got us."

"Greg! Keep your trap shut."

"No, Marie. The guilt has been weighing me down for decades. I'm a closet alcoholic because it's the only way I numb the pain and sleep."

"Shut up, you idiot."

"No, let your husband cleanse his soul. Go on, Minister."

"I always had this sickness. Little girls with their soft skin, perfect little bodies and innocence turned me on..." the politician's voice wavers. "I tried for years not to look at them, to touch them, but the temptation eventually became too great."

My stomach knot and churns. I struggle to swallow the bile. Every instinct in me screams for me to stop him from confessing, but it is part of the process. I remain still.

"After that first time, I was filled with shame. I was desperate to rid myself of this demon. Joining the priesthood seemed logical. Then, I met Marie."

"What did Marie do for you?"

"Marie suffered the same sickness as me, embracing it. Marie eventually convinced me that what I felt was natural and beautiful. Loving a child is a gift."

"It is, Greg, but not in the way you and your wife did. That's sick."

"It's pure, bitch. Now please, shut the fuck up, Greg."

"At some point during the marriage, you discovered the truth."

"Yes, that's right. My little bubble burst twenty years ago, when I began to feel lust for my daughter." The people's servant winces at the memory. "She was ten and was wearing this pink summer dress. Her golden curls in a ponytail."

Shivering, the so-called devoted family man gags on the perversion. A coughing fit tears through his body, and he vomits onto the plush cream carpet. Panting, the disgraced 'honourable' Minister begs me to let him stop. I refuse.

"At that moment, the lines of fatherly love and deviance blurred. I was in a haze. All I remember was pressing her against the bed with my hand snaking up her skirt. That's when I heard a shriek."

"Who was it?"

"My daughter. I was snapped out my fog of lust to see my little girl sobbing. Big fat tears fell from her beautiful blue eyes. Her soft voice was begging me not to hurt her. I crumbled. I stopped and ran from the room." Exhausted from his confession, Greg makes a request. "Please, whatever you're going to do to me, I promise I will not fight. Just make it quick."

"My idiot husband may lie down for you, but you're going to have a fight on your hands with me. Paralyzed or not."

"Wonderful, Marie. I love a challenge. You fight to the bitter end. However, you'll not win. You will die tonight."

"We'll see, you fucking whore."

Sebastian is so still in the corner, cloaked by darkness, that I forget he is in the room.

It is only the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and that intoxicating scent that remind me of his continued presence. Sashaying to the table, where my partner sits waiting for his turn, I wink at him and pick up two tumblers, returning to the targets.

"I have instructions to make this a speedy trial. I find the defendants, Marie and Gregory Smyth, guilty of all charges, and sentence them to death."

With the theatrical posturing of a television courtroom drama, I bang my makeshift gavel on the bed and administer the mode of death. "Here, drink these, and soon you'll sing with the Devil's angels."

With a trembling hand, Greg brings the rum to his lips and allows the burning liquid to slide down his gullet. It takes only moments before he drifts off to sleep. Marie isn't cooperative. She swipes at the glass, almost knocking it out of my hand. With a feral cry, the beast snarls, claws, and spits in my face. Knowing that I have only precious moments before Greg's death, closing the opportunity for Sebastian to feed, I force the glass into Marie's hand. The liquid pours into her clenched maw, choking her. It has the desired effect.

"Sebastian, honey, dinner is ready."

With the grace of a seasoned athlete, the vampire slides next to his prey. Cradling Greg in his arms like a lover, Sebastian's canines flash for a fraction of a second before capturing the doomed man's mouth. My partner's eyes grow dark like a sea storm, and with a squeal, the soul sucker claims another spirit.
Chapter 39

Sebastian

Capturing and absorbing the darkness of two souls instead of one zapped what energy I had. Turning off the phone and locking my door, I collapse on my narrow, unmade bed. My head barely sinks into the pillow before sleep welcomes me.

It isn't long before my slumber is interrupted. A loud banging pulls me from my sleep. Covering my head with the blanket, I shut my eyes tight, ignoring the intrusion. The noise doesn't disappear, and I'm forced to deal with it if I hope to retreat back into oblivion.

"All right, all right, hang onto yer drawers. I'm coming."

Stumbling toward the door, I whip it open and am greeted by a frantic Scarlett. Standing in my doorway with nothing more than a thin silk slip, my friend is shivering. Her sable hair is disheveled, and black streaks stain her red cheeks.

"Oh my Lord, Scarlett. What happened?"

Ushering her inside and directing the shaken woman to the couch, I wrap a blanket around her shoulders and hold tight, rubbing her frozen skin. Scarlett's teeth chatter, and she buries her face in my bare chest, heaving sobs racking her body. When the cries subside, she explains.

"There was a fire at the hotel where I'm staying. The firemen got everyone out safely, but the building was destroyed. Oh, God, Sebastian. It was horrifying. It brought back many memories."

Scarlett clings to me as tears fall unchecked. A hint of strawberry and honey barely masks the smoke penetrating her skin and hair. My mind goes blank as the words die in my throat. I don't know how to comfort my friend. I just hold her.

"I don't know what to do now. I'm homeless. The concierge couldn't find a room for me. All my belongings are lost. What am I going to do?"

"Stay here. I have an extra bedroom now that Declynn is on her own. You can stay here as long as you like."

Wiping her cheeks with the corner of the blanket, a hint of a smile graces Scarlett's lips.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

"Why not? You're my friend, and I can't leave you stranded."

"Thank you."

"Would you like to take a shower? I have fresh towels and new soap."

"Thank you, but I have nothing to wear."

My gaze rakes over the soft rose material that clings to the witch's curves. The fabric strains against her nipples, hard from the cold.

Stifling a moan, I shift uncomfortably, willing the growing arousal to wane.

"You can borrow a shirt and PJ bottoms from me. It'll be too big, but you'll be warm."

"Thanks, Sebastian."

"No problem."

Once Scarlett enters the bathroom, I march into my room and slip on a pair of sweat pants, and hope the bird has settled back into its nest. Approaching the bathroom with my favourite t-shirt and pj's in hand, I hear the rush of water. Raising my fist to knock on the door, I notice it's ajar. An intense desire to open it and step inside is overwhelming. Hesitating, scolding myself for having such thoughts, I will myself to keep walking, but find I'm rooted in my spot.

I see Scarlett's reflection in the mirror. Fresh from the shower, she pats her dewy skin dry. Mesmerized, I watch as the plush cloth glides over her full, round breasts, down her slightly rounded belly, stopping at the apex of her thighs. A moan escapes through my clenched teeth. My pants suddenly become unbearably snug. Lust fogs my brain. I shake it off, place the clothes on the floor, and retreat to my room.

"Sebastian? Are you awake?"

Scarlett's gentle inquiry distracts me from the stream of mumbled curses and obsessive pacing. "Yeah, come in."

"Do you have any coffee? I could use a cup."

"I do. Come on, I make us some."

Goddamn. Scarlett is sexier in my clothes. The well-worn Guns-n-Roses shirt hangs loose on her shoulders, the hem resting just below her waist. She has rolled up the cuffs of the pants and tied the drawstring in a double knot. It doesn't prevent them from sliding down her hips, reminding me of what is missing underneath.

"I appreciate you taking me in. I didn't know what I would've done without you."

"Like I said before, it's my pleasure. Would you like something to eat?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay. Let's see what I have."

Scanning the cupboards and fridge, I take inventory of my groceries. Finding little more than some juice, bread, and Cheese Whiz, I pull them out of the refrigerator and grin sheepishly.

"Ah, I'm afraid that is all I have right now. I never had a chance to go to Sobey's."

"It's fine. A cheese sandwich will be great. I love these. Sit down; I'll make them."

High on a pot of coffee and cheese sandwiches, Scarlett and I are in each other's arms, holding each other up from falling on the floor with laughter. My new roommate's ponytail bounces with each chuckle. Her breasts heave, and her arms wrap around my neck. With each warm breath caressing my cheek, it's harder and harder to fight off my growing desire.

"Oh, Sebastian, I adore you. You're the best."

"I adore you too, Scarlett."

Tears cascade down my companion's face, born of joy instead of pain.

Her opalescent gaze captures mine, and for a brief moment, we sit, unmoving. Scarlett's smile is distant and wistful. She twists a silken strand of hair around a finger, and her tongue sweeps across her bottom lip. Sexual tension hangs heavy in the air, pulling and pushing us together. It's hard to break away from Scarlett. My yearning for her is undeniable, but I have to. I can't jeopardize our friendship. Through the kitchen window, my respite appears.

"The sun is coming up. I better go undercover for the rest of the day."

"Ah, okay. See you later."

Disappointment washes over Scarlett's expression, and I quickly seek refuge between the sheets.
Chapter 40

Declynn

The grass I sit on is damp with dew. Wisps of smoke spiral into the dull, frosty morning. A sea of grey clouds swallows the sun, shrouding me from harm. I nurse the cigarette between my fingers, lifting it to my lips and take one last draw for courage. Extinguishing the cigarette butt on a weathered headstone, I walk through the empty cemetery passing rows of nondescript headstones and stop at my destination.

"Good morning, Dad."

I genuflect in front of the angel statue that marks my father's grave and place a bouquet of white lilies. My fingers trace the lettering of his name and the date of his death.

"Dad, I've can't stop thinking about that moment that I lost you to the sea. I know I pretend that I don't miss you, but I do. The guilt of what I did haunts me."

The wind whistles through the trees, disrupting the quiet calm of the moment.

"Why are you here?"

I look behind me and see a thin, middle-aged woman carrying an arrangement of flowers. "Mom, I could ask you the same."

"I'm placing this bouquet on my husband's grave. Do you have a problem?"

"I do. This is my moment with my father, and you're interrupting."

Shouldering past me, my mother kneels at Dad's gravesite, blessing herself and murmuring a prayer. I feel the undercurrent of bitter resentment hum between us.

Marching up to me, she slaps me hard across the face. My hand flies to my stinging cheek. I stumble back and suppress the instinctive gasp lodged in my throat.

"Was that necessary, Mother?"

"It was. You're insinuating that I don't have the right to visit with your father."

"Why would you be interested in visiting his grave now? I know for a fact that this is the first time since he'd been laid to rest."

"You lie. I see him every day."

"That's not what the caretaker says. He was the one to tell me about your absence."

"Pfft. Don't believe the lies of a drunk. Gordon Simms pays more attention to the whiskey bottle than the cemetery."

The conversation has reached an impasse. I could make another retort but my mother and I will just be going around in pointless circles, hurling insults but it was futile.

"What, no sarcastic comment or insult?"

"You're not worth it, Mother. I just wanted some quiet time with Dad, and yet again, you have to disrupt any peace I manage to find with your ugliness."

"I will not justify those lies with a comment. Good-bye, Lynn. I'll pray for your soul."

The silence that hangs over us is tense and electric. Elizabeth Sinclair trudges off in a huff, leaving me alone at the grave.

"You can't pray for something that never existed." The words ricochet off my mother's retreating form and echo in the wind.

Taking another swig from the half-bottle of Screech, I let the fiery liquid flush down my throat and warm my bones. I pour a splash of the rum over John Sinclair's image and lift the bottle to his memory. "Here's to you, Dad. May you forever rest in peace, in whatever direction fate sent you."

Amber liquid cascades down my father's chiseled profile like tears. His accusing aquamarine gaze chills my blood and transport me back to the churning waters of the North Atlantic.

Gelid water grips my body. Waves crash around me, each one threatening to pull me under the void. Somewhere behind me, Sebastian's entombed bellows die in the surf. I survey the horizon for my father. Finding nothing, I almost give in to despair when a raspy voice calls my name.

"Help, Lynn, over here. Help."

The tide is strong, making it almost impossible to swim. I push my limbs through the water toward Dad and reach for his hand. His fingers curl around mine, and then...

Shivering with the memory, I blink away the sorrow from my bloodshot eyes. I wipe traces of the golden rum from my lips with my sleeve, but the bitter taste of betrayal leaves a stain.
Chapter 41

Scarlett

Sebastian's rejection stings, leaving the intense desire unabated. I couldn't feel upset with my new roommate, though; his reasons were noble. A part of me wishes he'd let go of that nobility and give into our attraction. I could use a night of fiery passion with the alluring vampire. Shaking the self-serving notion out of my mind, I shower and dress. Careful not to wake my friend, I slip into the kitchen and pour myself a coffee.

Curious, I snoop around the apartment, making note of where things are. Admiring the photos of his family and friends on the window ledge, I pick up a photo that catches my interest. I regret looking at the image after recognizing the faces in the picture. Terror mixed with an overwhelming sense of betrayal seizes my insides. The coffee cup falls from my hands, smashing on the floor, and paints the ivory tiles with the light brown liquid.

"Scarlett, is everything okay? I heard a crash."

"You bastard. How could you?" Waving my hand in the air, my power grips Sebastian by the throat, choking him.

Clutching his throat, the backstabbing con artist gasps and struggles. "W-what's g-goin on?"

"As if you didn't know."

"I-I don't."

"You betrayed me. I thought we were friends."

Sebastian's expression washes blank, confused. Whipping the incriminating picture off the ledge, I shove it in his face. "How long have you been working with Christian and Victor Leblanc? Did they pay you to find and deliver me to them?"

Seeing that he's struggling to breathe, I ease back the magic so the coward can explain.

"I don't work for the Leblancs."

"Then why do you and Declynn look so cozy with them in this picture?"

"They are our creators. That's all. That picture was taken before we left the island. How do you know them?"

"Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes by acting stupid. You know how I know them and why they want me."

"No, Scarlett, I don't. I'm clueless."

The fury growing inside of me drives me to not listen to my instincts and keep pressing for answers before I kill the demon. A tiny voice echoes from deep in my conscience, demanding I stop. Robin's training urges me to observe the whole person and pay attention to the non-verbal cues. Reading those signs on Sebastian is near impossible because of the magic choking him, but I manage to detect his oblivious innocence.

"You really don't know, do you?"

"No. Care to enlighten me before you steal my last breath?"

Releasing the hold, my partner lands on the floor with a thud. Grunting and rubbing his sore behind, he limps to the couch. I settle in the chair opposite to Sebastian, because right now I can't stand to be too close to him, not trusting either one of us.

Taking a calming breath, I spill out the story of my legend and how desperate Christian and Victor were to obtain my heart. Sebastian remains silent as the story folds out, and while he shows little outward emotion, I can sense his growing indignation.

"How close do you think they are in finding you?"

"I don't know. The Leblanc brothers will not stop until I'm split open, and they're ripping my heart out and devouring it."

"Scarlett, do you trust me now?"

"I'm going to sound like a fucked-up loon by saying this, considering that I accused you of betraying me a minute ago, but, yes, I do."

"Good. I'm going to ask you to make a choice. I know you, and I are more than capable of defeating Christian and Victor, but do you want to disappear or stay and fight?"

"I want to do both. I want to hide for a while so I can make a plan to lure the bastards out, then take care of them once and for all."

"Then that's what we'll do. I know the perfect place."

"I can't involve you, it's not your battle. I disappear on my own."

"How do you propose to do that?"

Sebastian's challenge makes me pause and reflect. He's right; there's nowhere for me to go.

"Will you help me, Sebastian?"

"Of course, Scarlett. Let's get some breakfast and discuss our plan."

Declynn promised to keep our secret and alert Diana of our plan without disclosing our location. Sebastian has whisked me away to a secluded outpost just a few miles outside Stokers Cove. Little Paradise is a tiny, quaint, rugged island. No one lives on the island, but dwellings remain.

"We're going to be out here alone?"

"Don't panic, Scarlett. We brought enough provisions to last for a couple of months. Little Paradise is secluded and safe."

Shimmering stars twinkle through the canopy of trees. Sounds of nocturnal wildlife along with the crashing waves against the rocks remind me that Sebastian and I are alone.

"Who owns this house? It's lovely."

My gaze rakes across the turn of the century two-story. The kitchen is sparse but well-tended and cosy. Buttercup yellow frames the wood stove where a crackling fire warms the room. Handmade lace curtains dance in the autumn breeze.

"It's my Grandmother Sinclair's. My father grew up here until the resettlement program in the 60s."

"Did you come here often?"

"We spent most summers with my maternal grandparents in the city. I enjoyed it when we did come here."

"Did Declynn?"

"No. She despised it. The isolation was a burden for her rather than a respite."

"Your sister is a city gal, isn't she?"

"Any place where she can be herself without judgement is her haven."

"Declynn's life was difficult, wasn't it?"

"My sister has spent most of her life being shunned because of her sexuality."

"How awful. Poor Declynn."

"She eventually learned to ignore people, but she couldn't escape the one that loathed her the most."

"Who?"

"Our mother. She used to get drunk, and..."

Sebastian blanches for an instant; he has accidentally revealed a secret. Clearing his throat, he waltzes over to the stove and refills our cups. I entwine my fingers through his and hold his hand to my heart. My friend's disquiet radiates off him in waves, washing over me. Turning the pain of his sister's abuse inside myself, I absorb the hurt, and my power dissolves it. The corners of Sebastian's lips curve into the beginnings of a smile. His eyes are reflecting uncertainty.

"Feel better?"

"I do. What just happened?"

"I took away your pain."

"What? How?"

"I absorbed the hurt inside your heart and made it disappear. It's part of my magic."

"Amazing. Thank you."

Sebastian's disarming smile and intense stare make my heart lurch and breath hitch. The air is tense and electric. The temptation to run my hand under his shirt, to feel the taut muscled flesh underneath, is immense. I lean closer to him; a shaky hand gives into the desire. Sebastian's skin is warm. His muscles ripple underneath my fingertips as a gasp escapes his throat. A fervid tingling course through my body, heating my blood. Sebastian's breath warms my neck, and lips brush along the curve, grazing my ear. I squeeze my knees together to quell the ache between my legs.

"Sebastian."

"Scarlett."

I'm breathless and can barely speak as our lips hover. My strength is waning. The voice deep inside my head urges me to give in.

Bury my fingers in his lush hair and pull the sensual supernatural to me. We stay still, our yearning reaching a crescendo. An undetermined amount of time passes before a loud boom explodes outside, snapping us back to reality.

A painful emptiness consumes me as Sebastian rushes to the window, shutting it. I finish the remaining tea and join him at the window. The sudden loud noise does little to curb the craving. Maybe some mundane conversation will ease it.

"What was that?"

"It was just thunder. It tends to get loud around these parts. The rain isn't far away."

"That's good to know that's all that was. It scared the bejesus out of me. I thought a bomb went off or something."

"You okay now?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

The lie feels unnatural rolling off my tongue. My instinct told me that Sebastian is aware of my untruth, but he doesn't call me on it.

"Ah, it's getting late. Are you tired, Scarlett?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Let me show you to your room."

The ascent up the stairs seems to take forever as the battle rages on in my head and body. I want take a bath, get under the covers, and sleep. That is, if sleep was possible. I could use my power and will away the passion flowing through every cell in my body so I can rest, but I don't want to.

A bedside lamp is the only light, casting a golden glow across the rose-coloured room. An elegant antique sleigh bed is the centrepiece. Oak penetrates the air and mingles with vanilla and cinnamon.

"It smells sweet in here. I'm craving ice cream right now."

"Heh. Yeah, I see why you'd think that. Our family has been paying a caretaker from a nearby community to maintain this house."

"They do an excellent job."

"Scarlett, we need to talk."

"I know."

Sebastian leads me to the bed, patting the spot next to him. An uncomfortable silence follows until he breaks it by speaking. "Scarlett, I want to talk about this intense attraction we have between us and what we are going to do about it."

"I don't understand."

"Things got intense downstairs. It's clear that we both want to devour each other. I have to admit, it's been damn near impossible to be near you and not rip your clothes off."

"What holds you back? I felt so empty when you pulled away."

"We've both had our hearts broken. I didn't want to take advantage of your vulnerable state."

"I'm not fragile, Sebastian. I could handle if you didn't want any more than a one-night stand."

"I know you're tenacious, Scarlett, but I value our friendship and don't want to jeopardize it."

"We should explore our feelings, because it's clear that we're more than friends."

"Are you suggesting that we should throw caution to the wind?"

"Yes, I am."

"Would you be willing to compromise?"

"What's your offer?"

"Let's take our time and allow our romance to bloom. Then, we will make love, not just have wild, meaningless sex."

"You want an old-fashioned romance?"

"I do."

Tears pool in my eyes, and a stray one slides down my cheek. Sebastian wipes it away with his thumb. "I take that you feel the same way?"

"Need you ask? Let's do it. I want to explore."

Sebastian wraps his arms around me and squeezes. I bury my face in his shoulder and enjoy his body pressed to mine. Titling my chin, his mouth envelops mine, caressing lightly. The kiss is sweet and full of promise.
Chapter 42

Sebastian

Scarlett shifts next to me. She's fresh from a bath, and smells of vanilla and strawberry. Her closeness warms and excites me. Pushing out the intrusive thoughts, I focus on the sheet of paper in front of me.

"Christian and Victor live on this island?"

"Yes, just off the Grand Banks. That's where Declynn and I washed ashore and were made into vampires."

"You're genetically enhanced?"

"Yep."

"If that was the case, how come you can't go in the sun?"

"Apparently the method has not yet been perfected."

"Have you ever wished for the ability?"

"I don't know. I've never experienced the adverse side effects of the sun. I heard stories, but having to wait until dark to go outside is an inconvenience."

"I could help you, if that's what you want."

"No, I won't let you do that."

"Why?"

"You'll die."

"I'm not going to die. I can cure your sensitivity to the sun without you consuming my heart. Unless you want to become truly immortal. Y-you don't, do you?"

For a second, a flickering of fear crosses her delicate features. I cup her cheek and place a searing kiss on the alluring witch's lips.

"Immortality is nothing more than an illusion. I'll like living in reality, with you. So, no, I don't want true immorality."

Scarlett relaxes in my embrace. "Well, that's good, then. Getting back to my original question. Do you want to walk in the daylight?"

Snapshots of a life with Scarlett flash through my daydream. Walking hand in hand in the park. Spending a day running errands. The warmth of the sun's rays bathing our naked bodies as we make love in the sand. Two months of romantic suppers, holding hands, gentle kisses, and nights whispering secrets and dreams have made it easy to foresee a future.

"Oh hell yes."

"Okay, your wish is my command."

Scarlett's hands roam my body, sending tendrils of heat flowing through my veins. A migraine pulses behind my eyes. My sight grows distorted.

Through the haze, my girlfriend's visage flickers in and out. The wall behind her sparkles, and the figures on the pictures dance.

"Babe, w-what's going on?"

"Dit meune agic tealing tou."

"Wha?"

Her words sound funny and jumbled. The many witches in front of me speak again. Their voices distant and entombed.

"Tid de lleps durking no tou."

My heart races. Sweat streaks down my forehead as the heat boils my blood. The scream building in my throat dies as the torturous agony of a thousand needles pierces my flesh. Warmth leaves my body as rapidly as it entered. Instinct tells me to flee from the mysterious force taunting me. Lurching from the couch, gravity seems off, and I tumble. Strawberry and vanilla cuts through the fog. The mingling scents bring the world back into focus. A rush of fresh air whisks through the room. I take a breath. It grounds me.

"Feel better?"

"What in the fuck was that?"

"It was quite a trip, wasn't it?"

"No kidding. What happened?"

"The spell wreaks havoc with your systems as it removes the deformity. Are you feeling better?"

"I am."

"Here, take this."

The healer presses a cold beer into my hand. She covers me in a blanket before turning toward the kitchen. I grasp Scarlett by the waist and pull her onto my lap. A mouse-like squeak erupts from her pursed lips.

"Hey. Watch it, Mister, or you might get hurt."

My fingers dance up her arm and weave through the ebony silk, drawing her mouth to mine. Our lips meet in a gentle kiss, caressing and melding together. My hands reach under her shirt, meeting velvet skin. I explore the curve of Scarlett's neck.

Her blood smells sweet, and for a fleeting moment, I wish I was a sanguine. I settle for tasting her skin with kisses.

"Mmm. Sebastian."

"Scarlett."

"I'm ready, Sebastian."

Lust-filled azure eyes sweep over me. Long kisses travel from the hollow of Scarlett's throat to the swell of her breast. Capturing her nipples between my teeth, I suckle until they are taut.

"Mmmm."

The moan of pleasure is all the encouragement I need. Drawing out the moment by releasing my lips, I continue the fiery path to her navel.

A slow hiss emanates from the yearning woman's pursed lips. My fingers draw lazy circles along her spine. Our faces are inches apart. Her breath caresses my neck, warming my skin.

Scarlett's tongue sweeps over her bottom lip, leaving it glistening. My arousal swells, making the denim unbearable. I keep the promise of a kiss lingering over her moistened lips. Anticipation hangs heavy in the air. Restless, the restive witch's fingers entwine around my neck, pulling me tight against her. The fullness of her breasts crush against my chest, pebbled flesh scraping along the exposed flesh of my open shirt.

"You're teasing me, babe."

"Good. Now you know what it feels like."

Shuddering underneath my fingertips, Scarlett's lips part easily for me and move against mine. My desire is fervent, but I resist giving into my primal needs in favour of this slow, tantalizing pace. I stroke my beauty's cheek with one hand while cupping her bottom with the other. Scarlett gasps.

"You all right, love?"

"Yeah," her reply is breathless. "I am."

Smiling, my inner hormone-driven teenager does a fist pump at Scarlett's surprise discovery against her thigh. We break our kiss and take trembling breaths. The woman's eyes are hooded, and her lips are kiss-swollen.

"Sebastian, stop torturing me." Scarlett's skin radiates a faint pink. The seductress's fingers dance down her belly and slip inside the waistband of her jeans. The outline of her fingers stroking her sex pushes me to the edge.

My reply is strained. "P-patience."

"Sounds like you need to practice what you preach."

I stalk towards my delicious prey, remove the offending digits from her pussy, and slide them into my mouth, suckling the juices until there is nothing lingering but the sweet smell of the brief contact.

Positioning her hands on my chest, I give a gentle command. "Remove my shirt."

Adroit fingers moved swiftly down my torso and slip the material off my shoulders. Her hands touch my bare skin, sending tingling volts of pleasure through me. God, if this enchantress can do this to me with a simple touch, I'll melt into a puddle at her feet before the end of this night.

Moving with my lover, I slide her bra straps over her shoulders, enjoying the smoothness of her skin and kiss the dusting of freckles. Holding Scarlett flush against me, so we are skin on skin, I explore the soft curve of her neck with my lips, nipping the flesh. Extracting my fangs at will is a skill I've perfected over time, and use at moments like this. My canines can bring pleasure, as well as pain, and I want to give a little of both to the creature in my arms. Tiny crimson beads pool to the surface of the wound. Scarlett hisses as the sting of my bite reaches past her euphoria. She squirms in my embrace, protesting.

"Sebastian, why did you bite me?"

"Shhh, love. It's okay. Stay still and let this happen. It'll be worth it."

"But..."

"Do you trust me, Scarlett?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then, lie against me and relax."

Her body once again becomes pliable. A salty, metallic flavour lingers on my tongue before it gives way to a pleasant sweetness. I drink long enough to allow my venom to penetrate Scarlett's bloodstream. A shudder and intense moan are proof of the blissful effect of the vampire serum. My arms circle her waist, and my fingers brush across heated skin, unfastening the buttons of the denim. Scarlett remains frozen, waiting with bated breath as the fabric slips between her legs and into a bundle at her feet. I slide my hand forward and meet damp lace. Pushing the barrier aside, I sweep my forefinger along her wet inner lips.

"Spread your legs, Scarlett."

Her legs shift further apart, allowing me better access. As I thrust deeper into her heat, a whimper hums between the wanton lass's parted lips. My thumb presses against the sensitive bundle of nerves, massaging while teasing her pussy. Scarlett arches her back, grinding her pelvis into my hand, desperate for friction.

"Sebastian."

"Scarlett."

"Please."

I release my fingers from her depths and glide her nectar over her own mouth like gloss.

"Lick your lips; see how good you taste."

Her tongue brushes along the plump, rosy flesh, licking her essence until her mouth is clean. Scarlett surprises me by grasping my fingers and sucking. My erection pulses inside my jeans. The material is stifling. I need relief.

"My beauty, turn around and undress me."

"Slow or fast?"

"Your choice."

Delicate fingers work painfully slow. My lover's languid kisses blaze a path of fire across my exposed skin. Her revenge is delicious torture as I wait for the last piece of clothing to shed. At last, just as I thought my death would come from exquisite anticipation, I'm stripped bare. Without warning, Scarlett rises and saunters away.

"Hey, what's the deal?"

"What's your favourite fantasy?"

"You naked in my bed and buried deep inside of you."

"I promise that will happen when you tell me your real fantasy."

"My dream is to make love in a boat on the open sea."

"Your wish is my command." The sultry sorceress pushes me on the bed and is astride me. Her hands levitate above my head as she whispers in an ancient language I don't understand.

"Babe, what are you doing?"

Pressing a finger to my lips, she cuts off any further communication, resuming her chanting. A blue glow emanates from her palms.

The strange illumination traverses from the middle of my forehead to the toes. This magical light plunges me into a blissful state. The corners of the mischievous girl's mouth curve into a simper. The twinkle in her azure eyes hints at the scandalous thoughts rolling around in her imagination.

"Close your eyes."

Anxious to experience whatever adventure my beauty has planned, I obey.

A weightless sensation sweeps over me. Instead of panic, a quiet calm envelopes my mind. I seem to float for an endless amount of time before a sultry voice commands me to open my eyes.

A thousand tiny diamonds twinkle against a black canvas overhead. Salt air permeates the atmosphere as the seagulls sing their song. My fingers graze along the cold metal, and a gleam of white catches my attention. I sit up and recognize my surroundings. The sweet hint of perfume lingers in the breeze, directing my attention to the stunning, unclothed woman lounging on the seat in front of me.

"I don't believe it. We're on a boat. How?"

"I'm not telling. A magician never reveals her secrets. Just enjoy."

"I plan to. Now stay where's ye to until I comes where ye at."

"What?"

Scarlett barely has time to process what I said before she is in my arms, bridal style. A fit of giggles shakes her. The teasing sliveen wraps her arms around my neck and nibbles on my earlobe.

"Stop that, you wench, or you're going to get more than you bargained for."

"That's the plan."

The immodest woman's yelp echoes throughout the berth when I toss her onto the mattress. Moonlight bathes Scarlett in an iridescent glow. Shimmering tendrils flow down her voluptuous curves and cup her glistening folds. My skin burns under my lover's wanton gaze, raking over my throbbing arousal.

"On your hands and knees, wench. Give me a gander at that lovely, round arse."

"Yes, sir."

Unable to resist any further, I leave a trail of kisses down lustrous flesh of her spine as I dip a finger deep inside her slick channel. A tiny moan gives me the encouragement to insert a second, and then a third digit. I curl my fingers inside of her; leisurely thrusting as my thumb fondles her clit.

Shuddering beneath my touch, Scarlett begs for more. I continue my ministrations until she erratically rides my hand, desperate for release. Withdrawing my hand, I savour the taste of witch's juices. Repositioning myself, I tease her entrance by resting my cock at the apex and pulling back out several times before her whimpers push me to thrust roughly to the hilt. I rock my hips erratically in sync with my lover. Sweat dampens my skin, and I tighten my grip on Scarlett's hips to maintain purchase. My breath hitches as my beauty's cries reverberate across the vessel.

"Sebastian, please. Harder."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh God, yes."

"Best kind, then. Grab that pillow and place it under your belly. Lie straight and spread your legs."

I slide into her eager pussy. Our skin-to-skin contact makes my heart quicken and my blood race. I capture the shivering woman's nipples between my forefinger and thumbs, pinch and pull, enjoying how they grow hard beneath my fingertips. Her sheath tightens around my cock, nearly pushing me over the edge. It takes all my willpower not to climax before the goddess beneath me. The sensations of our mating are coalescing and building until we both tremble with bone-shattering release.

"Holy Jaysus, fuck! Woman, you really are a divine supernatural, aren't you?"

She falls into my open arms, snuggling close. I nuzzle her neck and inhale the delicious mixture of fragrant spices, salt air, and sex. Scarlett's heartbeat slows, and her breathing returns to normal.

"Do you even have to ask? Of course I am."

"I do. I have an idea once all this madness settles down and we return to St. John's."

"What?"

"Scarlett Winters, will you go out with me?"

"Yes, I'd love to."

Cradled by the plush mattress, we lie there, enjoying the stillness, allowing the waves to lull us to sleep.

Chapter 43

Declynn

Thunder booms overhead, shaking the earth with me. Pelting rain soaks me to the bone while lightning splits the sky in two, giving me my only light. The foul weather is the last thing I need to worry about; I've got bigger problems.

A square-jawed man strides around the ransacked room I used to call my childhood bedroom. A golden strand peeps out from a black fedora. The trespasser continues his pattern of exiting and entering the room while interrogating me.

"Tell me where they are, Declynn."

"How am I supposed to know, Victor? Bass tells me nothing."

"Don't lie to me. You always know where your brother is. Christian and I even gave you that telepathic ability."

"I'm not lying. My brother probably has the walls up so I won't know his location."

"Why wouldn't he trust you with that information?"

"Sebastian doesn't always confide in me, especially if he wants to protect Scarlett."

The elitist vampire points a slender, manicured finger at me, forcing me further out into the rain.

"You were hired to find and keep track of the legend, telling me where she is."

"I have been doing my job. I found her and kept track. It's not my fault you're slow in acting."

"You're pretty sassy for a girl tied to a chair and dangling out of a two-story window."

"Pfft. My mother did far worse. Besides, you do remember I survived an endless time bobbing around the North Atlantic?"

Victor instructs his bodyguards to release me. "This is your last warning. Find Scarlett and bring her to me, or there'll be consequences."

"If I don't do as you say?"

"I will make arrangements for Sebastian's long and agonizing death, with you as the sole audience. Don't fuck with me, Declynn."

The henchmen and his master saunter out of the room, leaving me gasping for breath and shivering, cursing the greed that could end my twin's life.

When Victor approached me with the offer of a job with lucrative pay a few days before he made arrangements for my safe passage home, it was too good to resist. At the time, the crafty vampire left out critical details about Scarlett Winters, a.k.a. 'the legend'.

Victor explained Scarlett's mother was looking for her. Mrs. Winters was willing to pay handsomely to reunite with his daughter. I needed the money, and the job seemed easy, so I jumped at the chance. It wasn't until I became acquainted with Scarlett that the missing pieces that the scientist left out of the puzzle came into place. I was mortified to learn the real reason for Victor's desperation. I refuse to notify either Leblanc brother.

Now, I have no other choice. I have to find the missing spell caster and deliver her to the madman...or break my brother's heart.

Chapter 44

Scarlett

Leaving Sebastian sleeping, I creep downstairs, careful not to wake him. Fixing myself a cup of tea and toast, I step out onto the veranda and settle onto the porch swing. The rotund, shimmering orris-silver halo is nestled in a blanket of tiny diamonds, creating an ethereal glow across the water. My eyes flutter closed, and I inhale the fresh scent of the sea. The smell brings back memories of a couple of weeks ago, the first time Sebastian and I made love. The boat and the open sea, mingling with the breathtaking landscape provided the backdrop for the most euphoric experience of my life. Though we have made love several times since then, I can still feel the heat of Sebastian's touch and kisses on my skin.

My fingers dance lightly over my flesh, tracing the path that my lover's mouth had taken. My hand floats down the hollow of my neck, chest, and cleavage. I cup my breasts, lingering, reliving the sensations. The cloth beneath my fingers crinkles as I push the material over my hips. I shudder when my fingertips graze my mound. I envision the alluring vampire's tongue dipping, teasing my inner folds. Fingers are curling in and out of my heat while his skilled thumb tormented my sensitive bundle of nerves. I rock my hips against my hand, desperate for friction. My arousal twists at the core of my belly, sensations building and mounting under my ministrations. The release I crave is near. I feel weightless.

A sudden cool breeze caresses my skin. A growl penetrates the blissful fog, followed by a deep thrust filling my core. Wrapping my legs around my lover's waist, I weave my fingers through his hair. Sebastian's thrusts shift from slow and shallow to deep and erratic. Soon, my climax claims my body, ripping through me. I shout Sebastian's name repeatedly into the night sky as my body spasms around his release. Panting, I wait for my body to calm before gazing at the gorgeous vampire.

"Hey there." Sebastian's sultry tone stirs my desire again.

"Mmmm, hey."

"Did you like my surprise?"

"What do you think?"

Dipping a finger inside my slit, Sebastian suckles my juices, licking his fingers clean. "Mmmm, I believe so. God, you're delectable."

"May I ask what inspired this impromptu tryst?"

"I got up to have a piss and noticed you weren't in bed. I came down here looking for you and found the most stunning sight. I couldn't help myself." With one swift movement, Sebastian flips me over onto his lap, so that I'm straddling him. "Do you know how beautiful you are? Your hands were gliding over those voluptuous curves, pleasuring yourself—so exquisite. I needed to be a part of that."

Sebastian's eyes hold mine in a mesmerizing stare. My heart hurts, leaving me breathless from the pure love I see mirrored there.

A painful memory tugs at the fringes of my consciousness. Elijah had shown me love, warmed my heart to it, only to rip it out of my chest.

I squeeze my eyes shut and will away the impending seed of fear. I lean into Sebastian's embrace, lay my head on his chest, and count his heartbeats to soothe the irrational trepidation.

"What's the matter, my beauty?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"I suspect that isn't true. Do you want to talk about it?"

I press my palm against the former fishermen's chest and kiss the creased valley over his heart. It continues to amaze me how my lover's skin is warm. The hottest spot is over that part I am afraid to trust. Logically, it is unfounded, because Sebastian Sinclair has done nothing but prove to me that his love is genuine. I wish my heart would listen.

I lace my fingers around the back of his neck, draw him to me, and plant a kiss on Sebastian's lips. It rapidly grows passionate and consuming. Lifting off the swing, I wrap my legs around Sebastian's waist. Without breaking pace, the breathtaking Newfoundlander carries me to the bedroom, laying me gently on the floral counterpane.

"I love you, Scarlett."

Those words whispered against my neck just shatter my soul. I have to find a way to let go and allow myself to love this angel back.

The further down the shoreline we creep, the more pools of darkness surround us. The flashlight in my hand is our only light, and we follow its beam, careful not to stumble and fall into the frigid North Atlantic.

"Tell me why we are risking our lives to meet your sister again? I thought she didn't know where we were."

"I let my guard down, and she figured out where we were through my thoughts. We are meeting her here because she has some critical information about the Leblanc's location. She didn't want to risk us being found."

"I should've known. Declynn is skilled at cover-ups."

The wind picks up carrying a chill that rustles the treetops. Shivering with the cold, I curse the thin sweater I wore, the light fabric a weak barrier to the weather.

"How much farther, Sebastian? It's freezing."

"Aww, is my baby cold? I told you to wear something warmer."

"I hate that you can't feel the cold."

Sebastian throws his arms wide. The body-hugging t-shirt tightens across his torso, defining each firm muscle. Desire heats my chilled cheeks. A deep yearning throbs between my legs. My gaze rakes over the body that had turned mine into jelly just an hour ago.

"What can I say; I'm a Newfoundlander, a fisherman's son. I'm hardy. I can't help it that yer a mainland wuss."

"Oh, I see. So the fact that you're undead has nothing to do with the immunity to the cold?"

"Nah. I was tough before I became a vampire, but if you're cold, I can warm you up."

"How?"

"I got me ways." Quivering with want, Sebastian's arms circle around my waist, pressing me to him. Caressing my cheek, he tips my chin, drawing his mouth to mine. My lips part, granting access to his tongue.

"For fuck's sake. Get a room, you two." Declynn's crass, impatient remark bursts my bubble. Reluctantly, I pull away from her brother.

"Jayus, Declynn. Perfect timing as usual."

"Eh, fuck off. You two were probably packin' the arse off each other since you arrived. Take a break."

"Fine, whatever. What's this critical info you have on Christian and Victor?"

"Okay, down to brass tacks, then. Can we go back to Pop's house? I'm dying for a cuppa Tetley."

"Yeah. Come on."

When we've all settled around the table with our tea, Declynn tells us the purpose of her visit. "I have a contact that happens to be in the Leblanc brother's inner circle. She says that the Docs are getting closer to finding you, Scarlett."

The world around me tips and spins. My legs go rubbery. Sebastian's hand envelops mine, and his arm wraps around my waist, calming some of the tremors.

"How close are they?"

"Closer than you think, witch."

Two figures emerge from the shadows. One is tall and imposing, dressed in an impeccable designer suit. His features are stern, unflinching. His smirk infuriates and scares me.

The other is slightly shorter, struts about the room, studying every nook and cranny of the modest kitchen. His scrutiny of our surroundings makes his elitism clear. Christian gazes at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting the collar of his cranberry polo shirt, and smoothes a stray honey-blond strand, ensuring his flawless appearance remains.

"Ah, Scarlett. How wonderful it is to see you again. Victor and I have missed you."

I rip my hand away from him, interrupting his gentlemanly kiss with disgust. Undeterred, Christian shrugs and takes a seat next to me. Sebastian leaps across the table, grasping the arrogant vampire by the collar.

"Get the fuck out, Leblanc, and take your brother with you, or I swear, I'll suck the soul out of you and let Declynn tear what's left to shreds."

"That's an idle threat, Sinclair. You can't feed off the soulless, and I'll kill your sister before she has the chance. Please take your filthy paws off me."

"There's no need for violence. Christian; stop being so sensitive. The twins are our creations; we can control them at will. Watch. Sebastian, please release my brother and sit down."

The scene unfolding before me shocks and amazes me. Like a puppeteer, Victor manipulates his marionette to execute his command. Sebastian sits back down, docile.

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing harmful, I assure you. Christian and I can control both Sinclair siblings at whim if we so choose. I stopped him from hurting my brother."

"It's fortunate you can't control me." Summoning a power that I haven't tested, I rise from my seat and chant a spell that I memorized from my mother's spell book.

"Two brothers of the undead,

Their purpose here fills me with dread.

Two become one.

One become none.

So mote it be!"

Nothing happened. The heart-coveting maniacs remain in their places. Their complacent expressions irk me. I try another route. Concentrating, I form twin metallic spheres in my hands and toss one at the wall behind Victor, and the other at Christian's feet. Grabbing Sebastian and his sister by their hands, we rush through the exit.

"What in the hell was that?"

"I don't have time to explain now, Declynn. Just run."

"Why?"

The sky becomes alive with tumbling, twisting kaleidoscope lights. White smoke seeps from underneath the door and open windows, creating a blanket of fog and the smokescreen I needed. Sprinting through the open meadow, the abandoned dwellings clip by in a frantic blur. Without asking for an explanation, my companions follow my lead until I stop just at the edge of a crag.

"Will you please tell me what in the fuck was that?"

"Lynn, calm down. Give Scarlett a chance to explain."

The vampire siblings' puzzled gazes train on me, waiting for an explanation as to what transpired.

"When the banishing spell didn't work, I went to plan B. I conjured a metallic sphere that combusted on impact to create a distraction so we could escape."

"Okay, Houdini, what's the next step? How do we get off this island?"

Peering over the precipice and into the black void that leads to the jagged rocks below, I turn to the two vampires.

"How far can you two jump?"
Chapter 45

Sebastian

Staring at the six-story drop into the churning waters of the Atlantic, I jump and tumble through space, into the merciless ocean. The water cuts through my flesh like a thousand tiny shards of glass, stealing the breath from my lungs. I burst through the surface and take a deep breath. My lungs burn, and a sharp pain throbs behind my eyes. I blink away the water, clearing my vision, and fight back the crushing feeling of déjà vu. I search for signs of Declynn and Scarlett, calling their names over the staccato rhythm of the cresting waves. The silence ignores me. I strain to hear some sign of their presence, I hear nothing. I try again.

"Declynn! Scarlett! Declynn! Scarlett! Can you hear me?"

"Jayus, yes b'y. I'm here, calm down." My sister smacks me upside the head.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"If you stop screaming like a bloody idiot, you'll've seen that I was next to you and Scarlett was on land already."

Shooting a sideways glance at the tiny island perched in the middle of the sea, I notice Scarlett on her hands and knees, gasping for breath. Lulled into a trance, I drink in the surreal scene. The moon is a slight silver, and light pours through the haze, creating a preternatural halo around the enchantress. Rising to her feet, Scarlett's luscious lips mouth something to me from across the water.

"Hey, loverboy, push those dirty lust-filled thoughts out of your one-track mind and swim." Declynn's demand snaps me out of my daze.

Remembering to move my limbs, I jet across the water and hoist myself onto the shore. Doing my best to ignore the swell of her breast through the transparent shirt, I question our next move.

"We need to disappear now, Sebastian. We can't risk our discovery. The smoke screen was only a temporary distraction."

"Okay, witchy woman, what's the plan," my sister wonders as she spits out the remaining sea water out of her mouth.

"I can teleport us away from here to the other side of the island and back home."

"How do we do that?"

"All I need is for you and Declynn to hold my hands. I do the rest."

A glow radiates a rainbow of colours from our fingertips. Our digits throb and pulse under the heat that grows in intensity, seeping through to our bones. A sensation of being pulled from the ground rapidly becomes overwhelming. We levitate, and then speed through unknown darkness. Eerie quiet seems to shatter my eardrums, and I wail in agony. A hint of light beckons somewhere in the void.

Fighting for the blessed light, the urge to let go and grasp it is thwarted by Scarlett's soothing, gentle caress of my fears.

We race toward the illuminating saviour, landing with a thud onto a hard, grey floor.

Pulling myself up from my face plant, I scan my surroundings. Forest green walls, absent of any embellishments. Sparse furnishings; only a metal corner desk and chair and an air mattress devoid of any linens. It is a small room, no bigger than a jail cell.

"Scarlett, where in the hell are we?"

My question dissipates in the air. I explore the small room and discover I am alone.
Chapter 46

Declynn

Trapped in a dingy, barren room without knowing where my brother has disappeared to isn't my idea of an escape. First the freaky travel method, and now pacing this tiny square to figure out what to do next. I didn't need to know where I was, or who had orchestrated the whole trap the vampire in the box stunt; that, I already knew. It was part of Christian's and Victor's plan to falsely let Scarlett and Sebastian believe they had a chance of escaping. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to know when I was going to get out my cage.

"Okay, Doc Weird and Bizarro, you can let me out now. I've done what you asked."

A short crackling noise from over my head was followed by a sonorous, fluent English-accented voice filling the room.

"Lynn, please refrain from calling Christian and myself crude nicknames; it's unrefined."

"I apologize. Now, release me and let me see Sebastian."

"Not yet. Once we have obtained our prize, you'll be released."

"You bastard, you promised!"

"Relax, little vampire. Calm yourself and take a seat. I've arranged for your dinner to be delivered promptly."

Damn, I hated when he did this to me, the warm, mind-numbing tingling of my brain shutting down my instinct to rebel. With just the sound of his voice, the mad scientist has the ability to deplete my personal will for seconds or hours at a time.

Twiddling my thumbs, I stare at a non-existent focal point on the far wall and wait for supper to be served.

Her curves nearly pop out of her blouse, inciting my eyes and hands to trace every last line. Inhaling the temptress' apple cinnamon scent, I pepper a path of kisses along her jaw to her neck. The familiar pleasurable ache creeps across my jaw, providing the tools I need to propel us into the rapture. A small moan vibrates from the back of her throat once my canines slip past my meal's velvet skin. Shuddering, she relaxes against me, pliant beneath my touch.

"Mmm, please."

"Please what, pretty one?"

"Release me."

Th pretty one squirms against me, her firm, round ass grinding into my leg. My hand slips to the spot between her thighs. Gliding my fingers over her sex, along the silken barrier, I push it aside and plunge my fingers into her wetness. The licentious woman's pelvis moves against my hand, greedy and desperate for release. My body aches with the breathtaking desire for flesh as well as blood. I release my bite and push my toy onto the makeshift bed. Ripping her blouse open, her goose-bumped skin trembles with anticipation.

Never one to deny myself, I strip the beauty bare and claim my treasure. All thoughts of Alexandria vanish.
Chapter 47

Scarlett

Beads of sweat blurs my vision. My muscles strain under the effort of breaking free of the chains that tether my hands to the floor. When I'd recovered from my not-so-graceful face plant on the forest floor after the teleportation, I discovered my predicament. Thinking nothing of the confinement, I chanted an ancient spell to free myself, but it didn't work. When numerous attempts at using magic and then brute strength failed, panic set in. My magic has never waned before; something must be blocking it.

A steady, pulsating hum vibrates underneath my feet; the air electrifies with a strange, phantasmal force. An orchestra of fierce pulsating energy races toward me at lightning speed. The power hits me dead centre, knocking me off my feet. Only one force of spiritual energy could be powerful enough to achieve that result. I shake off the idea immediately. It's impossible.

Phantom fingers stroke my cheek, intense azure eyes hold my stare as the transparent figure transforms into a fleshed shape. Flowing ebony hair blows in the wind, revealing her flawless, youthful profile. Carmine lips curl into a smile. I lean into her familiar embrace, unable to process what I'm experiencing.

"Scarlett, darling, I know this is a shock, but please don't give into your instincts and pull away. I missed you and have longed to hold you."

"M-mom?"

"Yes, baby, it's me."

"I thought that you'd died. How are you even here? Where are my sisters?"

"I will explain later, but there's something we have to do first."

"Like what?"

Snapping my restraints with the flick of her wrist, my mother fusses about, straightening my clothing, hair, and checking my makeup before pressing her hand into mine.

"Preparations for your special event. Come on, this way."

I keep pace with my very alive mother, to the unknown destination. A cold wind whistles past, chilling my skin, twining it with my mind. Her hand is warm, but not comforting. I find no peace in this simple gesture.

We travel through the woods, a canopy of trees blocking out most of the shimmering stars. Our only light is the illumination radiating from mother's fingertips.

"Where are we going?"

"Just over this crest. That's where the ceremony will take place."

"What ceremony?'

Stepping into a clearing, what I see makes release my mother's hand, turn around, and flee. I barely get to the tree line when I'm flying through the air, landing violently on the ground. Dazed, I attempt to move, but can't, my limbs frozen.

"Don't try to move, Scarlett. Mommy has put a paralyzing spell on you. It'll keep you from missing your destiny."

"Mom, I'm confused. What's going on? How are you alive? Why am I here? What's this destiny?"

"So many questions. You always had an inquisitive mind. It'll all become clear in a moment."

My mother turns, approaching the fire in the centre of the clearing. With the wave of her hand, tendrils of flame lick higher, casting the area in a mesmerizing light. The deceiving witch chants an ancient spell that I don't recognize. The wind picks up, whipping the treetops, causing a cadaverous moan to echo. Using telekinesis, I concentrate on the cache of daggers. They remain secure to the ground. This failure is one of a pattern tonight, slowly becoming apparent. My mother is a powerful witch and is using her power to mute mine. I just don't know why.

Her mysterious mission is revealed when two figures emerge from the shadows. One of the men embraces my mother. My heart sinks. All my efforts to escape the man who bestows affection on my mother have failed.

"Christian."

"Good evening, witch. Thought that you could get away?"

"I would've if my magic had worked the way I wanted."

"You're wondering how that could be, aren't you? Kelly, would you care to enlighten your daughter?"

"Certainly, darling. I've been interfering with your abilities for a mutual purpose."

"Let me guess, Mother, to lure me to this madman's lair so he and his deranged brother can rip my heart out?"

"You were always the smartest of my brood."

"Then please tell me, what in the fuck is going on?"

My mother peels herself from Christian and waltzes over to me. She caresses my cheek, a gesture that seems loving, but it freezes the blood in my veins.

"You deserve the entire tale. It's the least I can do for you before you fulfill your destiny."

Kelly Winters takes her perch across from me and covers her hand over mine. For a moment, my mother looks as she did when I was little, and she was getting ready to tell me a bedtime story.

"As the seventh daughter of a purebred witch, it was my duty to bring the legend into the world. This meant that I had to marry another witch and give birth to seven children, making sure that the seventh was a daughter."

"How could you be sure that I'd be a girl? What would've happened if I were a boy?"

"There was no danger of that happening. My mother cast a spell, ensuring that the seventh child would be female."

"Why was it so important for me to be born? I know what my heart means to the bloodsuckers, but what's so special about me?"

"Your real purpose will become clear soon. At the age of eighteen, I was betrothed to the son of a neighbouring coven to produce seven daughters."

"You didn't love my father?"

"No, I didn't. David was part of a powerful coven that your grandfather wanted to form an alliance with. The Pisces Coven is a humble group that possesses extraordinary, otherworldly powers. A prophecy stated that the eldest son of the Pisces and the youngest daughter of the Leo clan were to marry so the legend could be born, merging two powerful families."

"So, you suffered through six previous pregnancies in order to fulfill my grandfather's wishes?"

"Oh, I suffered through much more than that. I loathed David. He was a boring, self-righteous hypocrite who spent our marriage claiming he loved me, but was only doing it out of obligation."

"My father did love you. I saw how he adored you every day. I prayed that someday I would find a love like yours."

"We both were acting, dear. Your father and I were having affairs on the side."

Skeptical of my mother's claims of my dad's adultery, I question her sincerity. Christian's expression is vacant of any indication of his mistress' honesty.

"If this is true, then who did Dad sleep with?"

"Some little Newfie tart. They carried on an affair for years. The bitch even had the gall to show up at his funeral."

"I don't remember seeing anyone there."

"That's because the cunt was smart to not show up at the church, and kept herself hidden in the cemetery. If she didn't, I would've revealed her secret to my family. The consequences would've been dire for her."

"I thought you didn't care about Dad's affair, since you were carrying on with him." I jerk my head at Christian.

"I didn't, but if our merged supernatural community knew about either of our flings, they would've destroyed me. I cared about self-preservation."

"Gee, how romantic. Who was this 'tart', and how did he meet her?"

"David met his whore when he traveled to Newfoundland for work. He said it was love at first sight. They carried on a long-distance relationship until the day he died."

"Okay, but did she have a name?"

"Jesus, I don't remember. Elisa, Erin, Beth, Betty, or something. I didn't care. As long David kept his trap shut about Christian, I kept mine closed."

Exhaustion claims my body; my eyes droop as the day's events take a toll on me. I no longer want to hear my mother's sordid tale. I just want to give into the darkness, but my mom has other plans.

"Wake up, little one. One more part of the story before you meet your fate."

"What possibly could there be left to hear? I've already heard enough, and I know where I'm going. I don't need to know anything else."

"What? You're not curious on how I met the recipient of your prized possession?"

"No. Now let me sleep."

My mother ignores my attempt to rest. She launches into a narrative on meeting Christian when her family ordered her to destroy the vampires who were hunting me. She was set to end his immortality by blasting a steady ray of electricity to his heart, paralyzing him before engulfing the vampire in flames.

The handsome and charming undead convinced the lonely witch to grant him one last wish, a kiss. It was that kiss that changed everything. Mom became instantly smitten and believed in the Leblanc's cause. She secretly plotted to deliver me to them when the time was right. That's why she had my father killed, why she murdered my sisters, and let me believe she was dead. It was her plan, written in full detail in invisible ink in the journal I found hidden in her secret lock box.
Chapter 48

Sebastian

For an uncertain stretch of time, I sit here in the damp, barren room and contemplate. The silence is shattering and wreaks havoc with the senses. I'm sick with worry, half-starved, and approaching desperation for a soul, any soul to feast on, threatens to consume me. My dreams are haunted by visions of Scarlett and ways to escape.

A swift knock on the door pulls me out my daze. A swift breeze blows into the cell flanked by a tall, wiry man in black. Without a word, he struts over to me, seizing my wrists, and drags me out of the room. I kick, scream, and fight, using all my vampire strength on the brute. It's useless. I don't know what kind of creature exists under that hood, but his strength is ten times more powerful.

"Who in hell are you? Where are you taking me?"

The strange being doesn't answer, letting my inquiries dissipate in the air. My mind fills with rapid-fire questions destined to remain unanswered. My kidnapper tows me through a labyrinth of dark passageways, twists, and turns, until a burst of sunlight blinds me.

Weightless, I spin through the air and land against a tree, slamming my head against the trunk. Multi-coloured spots dance before my eyes. A sharp pain thunders in the back of my head. The world around me spins. It's like my surroundings are peeling away layer after layer, until my mind and body succumb to the darkness.

The scorching rays of the sun burn me from the inside out. Falling to my knees, I clutch my stomach with restrained hands. Ebbing the flow of its crimson tinged contents is proving to be futile. I vomit until I'm weak and collapse against the tree that holds me prisoner. There's a bottle of water in front of me, cruelly out of reach. My skin chars under the hot sun, and the smell of my singed flesh assails my senses, nauseating me. I'm confused. I am burning in the sun?

Gazing up at the bright blue sky through swollen eyes, I see a dark cloud glide across, blocking out the sun. Droplets of cool rain soothe my parched skin. I close my eyes and enjoy the temporary respite.

Sensing another presence, I still and listen. The prey isn't far from me; I can hear the soft breaths and a gentle thud of a heartbeat in the bushes next to me.

The soul is black, hidden in the deceptive shell of innocence. The dry ache of yearning creeps across my jaw, crisscrossing rapidly through my body, electrifying my veins. The hunger is deep. It's painful to breathe.

The prey approaches me with caution. I keep my eyes closed, feigning sleep. Though careful, this human is brave. Fingers stroke my jaw.

My eyes snap open, flashing my fangs. The young woman before me jumps back, startled. A scream erupts from her. I kick out her legs, and she falls next to me.

I struggle against the duct tape that bind my wrists. Lust gnaws at my core. The deep need spurs me on, and I use my legs to draw her closer. Her eyes shine with tears, and she trembles.

"Please, don't hurt me. I mean you no harm."

Her soft girlish voice barely registers as I embrace her. My prey's heart is thundering against her ribs, and she pants under the strain of her struggling.

"Don't fight. It will hurt more."

My hands slip under her dress. Her body is curvaceous and subtle. I hunger for her all the more. The girl has stopped fighting me, but continues to plead, "Please don't rape me. I'm a virgin."

My elongated teeth dig into my cheeks, drawing blood. "Don't be foolish, little one. I have no intention of violating you in any way. I'm just very hungry and need your soul."

"My soul? What are you?"

"A soul-siphoning vampire."

"Vampires don't suck souls. They feed off human blood."

"Well, I don't. Now, stay still. I'm famished."

Undeterred, the willful girl presses her hands against my bare chest, stroking my muscles. Her eyes travel over my body, drinking me in. I take a deep breath and steady my impatience.

"If you are a vampire, how come you don't sparkle?"

"Oh Jaysus, how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"No, sweetheart, I don't sparkle. Real vampires never do. I have no intention of sweeping you off your feet. I do, however, need your darkness."

Suddenly, the chaste facade of my prey breaks. The waif's eyes grow cold, seething with rage. She weaves under my arm, hooking her arms under mine, and slams me into the tree. Disoriented and unable to react, seven inches of cold steel plunges deep into my gut. A wet, coppery taste floods my mouth. Dizzy, I cling to the trunk, fighting to catch my breath. The knife jerks loose and then slams into me repeatedly until the blade lodges deep into my intestines, and I'm left to writhe in agony in a pool of my own blood.

Chapter 49

Declynn

My demands fall on deaf ears. I'm feeling the life drain from my brother. The agony of the knife twisted in his gut, his life essence painting the ground beneath him with gore. Warmth from my body retreats, replaced with a frigid sensation in the pit of my stomach. A scream forms there, crawling up my throat, but I swallow it. I'm not letting these bastards see my pain. I glare at my captor, seething.

"I don't fucking care what you do to me, Victor. Just let Sebastian go. Let him live."

The elitist vampire eyes me with smug satisfaction, his gaze scanning me slowly, drinking in my misery.

"I wouldn't be so willing. I thought you'd rather your brother be dead than find out that you betrayed him."

"You got that backward, arsehole."

"I don't believe you want to die, Declynn, considering all that you want to accomplish. Besides, you'd be doing Sebastian a kindness. He will live the rest of his life with an empty, tortured heart without his 'true' love."

Clutching my side, I attempt to stand, but fall back onto my hands and knees. Blinking away the darkness, I reach out to Sebastian and beg him to hang on. I gather my remaining strength and blast him with my power, praying it's enough to keep him alive. The telepathic connection between us is weak, filled with static, but I can feel a tendril of life.

"You'll never kill Scarlett. She's a powerful witch; she'll squash you like a bug without lifting an eyelash."

"True, if her mother wasn't on our side and hadn't cast a spell on this island to weaken her daughter. Scarlett is easy pickings now."

"You're fucking delusional. Scarlett's mother is dead."

"You may think that if you want, but come, I'll let you see for yourself." Victor's bodyguard rips me off the floor and throws me over his shoulder.

"Get your dirty angishore hands off me, you bastard. Put me down," I pound on his back, but the brute chuckles like I'm tickling him. "What in the fuck are you?"

"Don't waste your precious strength on Hans. He's a Siberian lycanthrope. Powerful creatures; not even a feisty vampire can put a dent in them."

The crimson orange twilight surrenders to the night. The flame from a fire casts the meadow in a captivating light. A figure hovers over a slumped one before reaching down and gathering it into its arms. The prostrate form lies spread eagle next to the fire. The identity of this unfortunate bastard is revealed when I'm tossed next to her. My blood freezes at the sight.

Scarlett lies perfectly still, as if asleep. Her pallid visage is the only indication that she has suffered. I press my ear to her chest and am relieved to find that her heart is still beating.

"What have you bastards done to her?" I demand into the shadows.

Three figures emerge, their pale faces illuminated by the firelight, mixing with the light of the full moon; it gives them an ethereal appearance. Victor, Christian and who I assume is Scarlett's mother approach me. It's the witch who breaks the eerie silence.

"I've nothing to harm her, Vampire. Scarlett is in a deep sleep, preparing for the ritual that will fulfill her destiny."

"You're a sick bitch, lady. How is having her heart ripped from her chest and devoured by these monsters your daughter's destiny?"

"It's the reason she was born. I have to thank you for making it possible."

"I didn't do this. I'm not responsible for this nightmare; you three wackos are."

"On the contrary. You found Scarlett and brought us right to her."

"I was tricked. Victor Von Creep over there told me that you were looking to reunite with your long-lost daughter; that's it. He said nothing of this." I sweep my hand across the macabre scene.

"Victor and Christian didn't lie; they held back some of the truth. When you found out the facts, you still served Scarlett on a silver platter. You are responsible."

I open my mouth to protest but snap it shut. Deep down, I know the witch speaks the truth. I agreed to take my creators to Scarlett despite knowing the facts. I did it under the guise of protecting Sebastian, but I know I could've found another way. Deception is my specialty. Isn't what I've been doing with the Hopkins Selective all these months? I'm a cleaner. I know how to make people disappear. Then why didn't I try?

My thoughts are interrupted by piercing howl. My gaze follows the direction of the agonizing scream. The werewolf bully that dragged me here has transformed under the moon and is raking another soul through the flames by its fangs. My flesh sizzles and blisters. Water steams off my burning skin, and my clothes singe from the heat. Surging pain overwhelms me, and my screams echo in concert with my brother's in the night. Sebastian's scorched, blistered hand reaches for me. I grasp it and hold on. A ghost of a smile graces his scarred features, but the persistent twinkle in his eyes has died out. My twin's breath is shaky, and his head lolls to the side. I gently shake him.

"No. Don't give up, Bass. Don't let these devils beat you. You're stronger than this. Scarlett needs you. I need you."

"I can't do this anymore. They've taken everything from me. I have no fight left. I'm in agony and just want relief. Let me rest."

"Nothing has been taken from you. Scarlett is still alive. She needs us to gather our strength and help her. If we don't do something, she'll die. Will you be able to live with yourself if that happens?"

"That's not fair. You know I can't help her. Look at me. I'm broken."

"Don't be so fucking foolish. You've survived worse than this. Besides, I thought you loved her."

"I do."

"Then, what the fuck is the matter? You have integrity. Faith, endurance, and incredible stamina are fuelled by love. I've experienced it. Don't fail yourself now."

Sebastian's thoughts mirror his expression: blank. I squeeze his hand and wrap the remnants of my power around him. Memories of times that he was my strength swirl around his consciousness, mingling with visions of Scarlett. The recollections meet a void. My brother's hand falls away from mine, his resilience spent.

Chapter 50

Scarlett

Time hovers somewhere between the past and present, taunting me. I kick through the vacuum, wrestling with the virtual memories that flash by me like snapshots. My mother cast me into this deep sleep. My body is still, but I am mostly conscious and aware. I hear the preparations and conversations of the murderers around me. Sebastian's screams torture my soul and rip my heart into pieces. The pain of not being able to wake up and help him is unbearable. I lay here floating. The pounding emptiness is my companion, since hope is slowly slipping through my fingers.

An object swims by, tangling itself between my fingers. I release it from my hold and glance at the familiar blood-speckled words, scrawled by my father's hand. A gasp of relief and pain escapes from my lips. They're Dad's last words to me before he died. I've kept this faded parchment close to me since I discovered it, reading it whenever I needed comfort. Opening it, I read those words again.

Dearest Red,

It's quiet here; the sun has melted into the horizon and the world is at peace. I'm adjusting the tires on your favourite model car again. You always were breaking the wheels because you played with it so much.

That is one of many joyful memories I cherish.

I'm a blessed man; my riches are bountiful. My children are my precious jewels. However, you, Scarlett, are the rarest and one I value the most. To be an ordinary parent of an extraordinary child is in itself, magical.

I pause and wipe the grief streaking down my cheeks with the back of my hand. With my vision clear, I continue to read the letter I know by heart. However, instead of my voice reading my father's adoring words, his deep, soothing baritone recites the pronouncement.

"I've tried to show my children how much I loved them daily. Sometimes I succeeded; other times, I failed. I didn't have much wisdom to pass on, but I would like you to know these certainties."

The humble witch stops for a moment, allowing me to fall into his embrace. Kissing me on the head, he continues the sonnet.

"I've watched you grow; my heart filled with pride with the grace you shown in the face of unique challenges you had to experience. Maybe you're not ready to let me go. It aches to say good-bye to my baby, but when the sun shines tomorrow, I'll still be near, just in your heart. I love you."

"Those words kept me alive, Dad. Thank you for giving me this lifeline."

"I wrote what was in my heart. I needed to share it with you."

"Dad, you must execrate Mom for callously ending your life for her selfish purposes."

"I forgave Kelly for killing me. It's the only way one can achieve peace on the other side."

"I'll never absolve her. I will loathe my mother forever."

"Your betrayal is still fresh, but in time you'll heal and exonerate your mom so you can have a fulfilling life."

"I don't know if I have the strength."

"Forgiveness isn't something you need to worry about at the present. Right now, you need to concentrate on surviving."

"I can't. Mom suppressed my magic."

"Kelly has weakened you through deception rather than magic. Your power comes from your heart. The strength of your magic is proportional to your happiness."

"Are you saying that the only way my magic can be altered is through emotion?"

"Yes. Emotion is a state of being; the heart, a physical entity," My father's hand lingers over my heart. "Everything about you comes from this epicentre. It controls all things."

"I failed Dad. The vampires are going to possess my heart, and I'll die."

"You haven't failed. You can still win."

"How?"

"Erase all the doubt and empty your mind. Pay attention to what your power is telling you."

I close my eyes and take deep breaths, emptying my mind. I set free the poison clouding my reasoning. It takes a few tries, but finally, I hear what my heart has to say.

"Well, do you know what to do?"

"I do, but it's going to be difficult."

"Obtaining what we covet most always is, but it must be done."

"I'm unsure."

"Express your desire aloud to me. I promise that will help."

"I need Sebastian Sinclair. I love him without condition. There is no other I wish to spend my life with. I forgive all others who betrayed me in the past. I absolve Elijah of his deception and wish him peace."

"There. How does that feel?"

I embrace my father, pressing my head against his chest, absorbing the warmth and honesty of this moment. My dad gradually releases me, kissing me on the forehead.

"Dad, I need to ask. Have you forgiven Mom for murdering you?"

"To forgive a soul blackened by greed takes time, but it's the only way to live in peace."

"I can't imagine exonerating Mom. I loathe her right now."

"I promise, one day you be able to let go and pardon your mother. It's important for your future happiness."

"I understand, but I don't know how."

"Don't concern yourself with the how. Concentrate on surviving; worry about the rest later. I have to go now, Red. I love you."

"I love you. Thank you."

Snuggling into my father's embrace, I shut my eyes tight and try to make every second last. I will hold onto this memory until my last breath.

Regretfully, I tear myself away from him and watch him fade. Tears burn behind my eyelids, but I swallow them. There is no time for grief or drink in the beauty of what happened. I have a battle to win and a mother to punish.
Chapter 51

Sebastian

The blaze flickers in the fire pit as I lie next to it, feeling drained. Scarlett's spell was destroyed by her mother, leaving me at the mercy of the sun. The burns that my flesh incurred and wounds from the stabbing inflicted by Kelly Winters have healed already. The psychological torture is just beginning.

Scarlett is unconscious, lying spread-eagle on a pentagram on the ground. Her mother has just finished chanting and has stepped off to the side to observe. A statuesque, dark skinned woman in a raincoat approaches the prone figure, kneeling next to the victim and ripping her shirt open. Producing a scalpel from the pocket of her coat, the stranger hovers over Scarlett, poised to make the incision.

A gust of wind lifts the assassin off the ground, throwing her across the meadow where she hits her head off a boulder and slumps to the ground. Scarlett's eyes snap open. The witch breaks her bindings and rises to her feet. Hope slowly bleeds back into my soul as I observe my love fight for her life.

Stalking towards her mother, Scarlett flicks her wrist and directs a stream of acid at the woman who betrayed her. Kelly responds by throwing up an invisible shield, protecting herself.

"I see that you have broken the spell. Well done."

"I'd be flattered if you meant your praise."

"I do, my darling. You being able to fight back throws a kink in our plan, but it does make it more satisfying."

"Shut up, Mother. Let's end this."

"Very well."

Shooting a powerful beam of electricity, Scarlett blasts the shield apart, leaving her mother exposed. Inching closer, with a frosty sneer, Kelly conjures a ball of flame and tosses it at her daughter. Scarlett levitates over the fire as it whizzes by, extinguishing before it hits the ground.

"You're losing your touch, Mother."

"Not quite."

Persevering, Kelly shoots another fireball at her daughter's retreating form. It misses Scarlett by mere inches. This time the fire doesn't go out, it catches on an evergreen. Acting quickly, the hovering witch spontaneously forms a water sphere and tosses it over her shoulder, dousing the blaze.

"Look, Mommy's little firefighter."

"Are you going to stand there throwing quips with your cheap shots, or are you going to get serious?"

"Oh, child, you've haven't seen anything yet."

The ache in my side is the only signal that I had been holding my breath. Exhaling, I inhale the fresh pine scent of the forest floor as I attempt to rise on my haunches. A wave of nausea crashed over me; I steady myself by taking deep breaths.

Mother and daughter are eyeing each other carefully in a silent battle of wills.

Scarlett breaks the contest by producing a swirling spiral of wind racing toward Kelly. It lifts her off her feet, tossing the matriarch witch across the meadow, out of sight.

Chapter 52

Scarlett

Directly ahead, obscured by foliage, my mother lay seething. Undeterred by my stunt, the fiery backstabber's eyes flutter closed. I sense her counter attack before feeling it, but I can do nothing to prepare for or stop it. Audible inundations slam into me.

"I'll never forgive you what you've done, Scarlett. You betrayed me in the worst way. I loved you."

"You'll never be normal. You're a freak, a nothing. You should've never been born."

"I'm a vampire, Scarlett. I'll never love you. witches make me sick. I hate you."

"You're not worthy of my brother, whore. He's mine to love, to protect. Leave here."

"My greatest joy is to wrench your heart out."

I cover my ears to will away the horrible, taunting voices. My mind seems to separate from my body, floating through disconnected images of faces and memories of those I love and betrayed me. They merge and distort until I can no longer distinguish between reality and illusion. My heart pounds against my ribcage, my breathing ragged. I feel cold, distant and lightheaded. The voices keep screeching. Desperate to find peace, I claw my way through the melee. Finally, I see some light and latch onto it.

Conjuring up the remains of my strength, I channel my power and seek my opponent's life force. Punching through her emanation, I enfold my power around my mother's throat and squeeze.

"Hrrk. Hrrk. S-stop. You're k-killing me."

"Banish the voices and I will."

The colours of the radiating essence fade, and my mother quiets the voices, aware that her life is slipping away. My fingers move from Kelly's throat, and once more, tranquility reins.

"We need to stop this grandstanding, Mother."

"Agreed. How about the next one to falter, loses?"

"Fine."

Mom propels two metallic spheres at me. Once they hit the ground and explode, creating a blanket of smoke, I blend into the forest background.

"Very smart, Scarlett. That's a neat trick, but it will not deter me for long."

A vise-like grip seizes my chest. Sweat streaks down my forehead, blurring my vision. My surroundings spin, and I stagger into a tree. A migraine pulsates behind my eyes. Intense heat from within travels up my limbs, sweeping across my chest, and sets my blood ablaze.

I grunt against the pain, grinding my teeth to prevent the cry of agony building in my lungs from erupting. My essence boils, shooting through my veins, splashing my organs. This time I can't swallow the scream. I let it loose into the night, giving away my position.

Kelly Winters stalks toward me; victory etched across her delicate features. Her magic restrains me to the tree. Without a word, my mother penetrates my chest, capturing my heart in an agonizing grip.

Chapter 53

Declynn

Sebastian struggles against my embrace, demanding that I let him go.

"I'm sorry. I can't do that. You're far too weak to be any use to Scarlett."

"I'm okay. I need to get to her; she's about to die!"

"You don't know that. She still may pull out another trick out of her hat and defeat the bitch. It's not worth risking your life."

My brother glares at me like I just lost my mind. Tearing himself free, Sebastian stands and pulls me to my feet.

"I can't believe you said that to me. You know how I feel about her. She's worth any risk. Just like anyone I love."

"Even me?"

"What?"

"Would you risk it all for me?"

"What kind of an arse-up question is that? What have I been doing the past decade of our lives? You should know that answer already."

"I know, but..."

"I don't have time to validate your self-worth. I got to go."

Panic washes away any common sense. I didn't want Sebastian to rush into a situation headlong where I knew he can't survive. Summoning the courage, I tell him the truth. "I was the one that told Christian and Victor where Scarlett was located."

Sebastian stops on a dime, whipping around to study me. "Please repeat what you just said. I don't believe I heard you correctly."

"I said that Christian and Victor only found your girlfriend because I led them to her."

"Heh. You lie. Why would you even do that? Did they compel you?"

"No. I did this willingly. Victor approached me while we were still on the island and asked a favour."

"Which was?"

"Victor had a friend who wanted to reunite with her daughter. There was a cash reward if I agreed to help."

"You handed Scarlett to those monsters on a silver platter. I hope the price of the double-cross was worth losing me."

"I didn't know what the actual intention was until a couple of weeks ago. Victor threatened to kill you if I didn't do what he said."

"That was your motivation? Me?"

"Well, yeah, dickwad. You're my brother, and you come before everyone, including Scarlett."

"I don't believe this. We can talk about this later if we survive. Until then, stay away from me."

"Sebastian, wait!"

A primal scream pierces through our argument. My eyes rake across the field, zeroing in on Kelly on her knees, pleading for mercy. Scarlett looms over her mother, her hands planted firmly on the elder necromancer's head. Her mother crumples to the ground, shaking and convulsing. Foam bubbles out between her lips, and her limbs flail for several minutes before calming.

"Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph, I think Scarlet just killed her mother."

Sebastian sprints toward a trembling Scarlett, and I follow close behind. A blank, thousand yard stare ices her eyes as she stares slack-jawed at the slain corpse of her mother. I move closer to the traumatized young woman, but she doesn't see me. She looks past me, lobotomized. It's all I can do to withstand the despair chiseled in her features. Scarlett falls into my brother's open embrace, silent, evidently lost in a maelstrom of contemplation.

"Scarlett, I know you can't process what you've done right now, but you did the right thing. She was about to kill you."

Sebastian's soothing baritone must reach inside Scarlett's consciousness, because her lips quiver and a stray tear slides down her pale cheek.

"What did I just do?"

"You saved yourself, is what you've done. Like Bass said, you done the right thing."

"It doesn't feel like that right now. She may have been trying to kill me, but she was my mother, and I loved her. I'm responsible for her death, and that's is something I'll never get over, for long as I live."

"Good thing you will not have to live with the guilt for long."

Emerging from the thicket, Victor Leblanc saunters over to us, flanked by his brother, who has a vengeful glint in his cold eyes. Fuelled by grief-soaked rage, Christian leaps toward Scarlett, fangs bared. Victor stops him.

"Stop, brother. Do not be reckless."

"How dare you deny me my revenge! The whore just slaughtered the woman I love!"

"I'm not denying you justice, Christian; just provided a better way of carrying it out. Sebastian, restrain Scarlett. Declynn, feast upon her blood, and Sebastian, once the life drains from her, devour her soul."

"Brilliant, Victor. And when she is dead, her heart will be ours."

Chapter 54

Scarlett

Sebastian's fingers bite into my biceps. His breathing is laboured, and his heartbeat pounds. I sense the inner struggle to defy his creator's compulsion. Declynn lumbers toward me, her elongated canines zeroing in on my neck. The piercing of my flesh is like a thousand tiny needles. I sense my blood flooding her tongue, down her throat, and providing nourishment. I raise my blood's temperature to near boiling, forcing the brainwashed vampire to rip away from me.

"Fuck! Ow, that fucking burns," Declynn screams, falling to her knees.

With her out of the way, I seesaw my body and hit Sebastian square in the nose with my head.

"Jaysus!"

My boyfriend falls on his haunches next to his sister, covering his shattered nose with his hands. Acting quickly, I cast a sleeping spell on the twins and build an invisible, protective shield in front of them.

Christian stands frozen, slack-jawed, but it quickly evaporates, giving away to bemusement. "Well, I'm shocked. I never thought you'd cause harm to the man who stole your heart."

"I did what I had to do, Leblanc. With my mother and the Sinclair siblings out of the way, what do you say we finish what we started?"

"Okay, then. Victor, are you ready?"

"I've been ready for centuries. How should we play this out? The easy or the hard way?"

"Let's do it the hard way, Victor, and forbid Scarlett from using her magic."

"I agree. Scarlett, how about you?"

"I don't care. I just want this over with."

"Brave girl. You'll have three against one."

"Three? You mean two."

"No, like Christian said, three. Meet Hans, our lycanthrope bodyguard."

An imposing, hulking creature looms over me, flexing his massive biceps in an effort to intimidate me.

"That's not fair. I don't stand a chance without my power."

Victor smirks at me while Christian rolls his eyes.

"Not our problem. Now, let's get started."

Hans doesn't hesitate. The beast grabs me by what's left of my shirt, spins me around, and hurls me across the field. I crashed hard onto my backend and missed hitting my head against a boulder by mere inches.

I blink the stars from my eyes as my surroundings continue to spin. The giant takes a step toward me, his meaty hand plucks me from the ground. My limbs flair in the air, wriggling within his powerful grip in a vain attempt to break free.

"You know, I was taught to respect all life and not do harm unless it's in self-defence."

"You"—I cough—"consider me a threat?"

"Yes. I've seen what you're capable of, and with the snap of your fingers, I know you can obliterate me from existence. I need to kill you now and pay the debt I owe to the vampires."

Dropping me to the ground, the wolf man releases me, and I run. The treetops pass by me in a blur as I attempt to make my escape. Eerie quietude shrouds the forest save for the beat of footsteps behind me. Blood roars in my ears and my lungs cry out for air the further I retreat. I blink way the sweat that clouds my vision. Thunder claps overhead, shaking the earth beneath my pounding footsteps, startling me, but I maintain my pace. Pelting rain soaks through my thin layer of clothing and turns the soil into mud, impeding my escape. In the distance, I notice a cliff and change directions. The soft clay gives under each step as I climb, forcing me to stabilize my balance. I hear the North Atlantic whipping itself into a frenzy, crashing into a rocky cliff a hundred feet below. Sensing the predator gaining ground behind me, I kick it into high gear, ignoring my screaming muscles and pounding heart.

"The big bad wolf almost caught you, Little Red Riding Hood."

A huge chunk of earth turns into liquid under me. I fall, sliding down the hill, toward the waiting arms of my stalker.

"Just let yourself go; it'll be easier."

My feet slip and slide underneath me, I thrash my arms and search desperately for something to grab. In my peripheral vision, I notice a branch. Shooting my arm out, I latch onto it. Using the limb as my anchor, I reach for the next handhold, an outcropping a few feet to my right. Using my renewed momentum, I climb toward the summit, feeling in the dark for the handholds. With the last of my energy reserves spent, I make it to the top and collapse, gasping for air.

Suddenly, I'm weightless and flying through the empty night, landing on my back. The world fades around me and darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision. I fight to keep my eyes open. I can't breathe. Blood trickles down into my eyes but I'm too weak to blink it away. I attempt to sit up, but fall back down. Hans stalks toward me; a sadistic grin splitting his cruel features.

"Time to say your prayers, witch. You're going to your maker."

I rise and stumble. My entire being demands that I give up and let the peace of death claim me. But my spirit blocks out those demands and encourages my continued fight. I have a lot to live for, and I'd be damned if some bloodsucking demons take what's mine. The wolf is straddling me, gripping my throat in his powerful hands. My throat spasms. I gasp for air beneath his palms. I reach up and dig my fingernails into his wrists. He doesn't flinch. I kick and thrash and squirm under his grip. Hans's thumbs dig into my trachea, squeezing tighter; red creeps into edges of my vision. My lungs burn and my life drains from my body. Limp, I roll my head to the side and embrace the void.

The distant cetacean wail of a horn snaps me back into consciousness. Through a throbbing haze, an elegant creature has its back to me, baying at the moon.

From its brawny, muscular frame and lush golden fur, I sense that this is Hans transformed. Willing the last of my strength, I pull myself upright. Searching for something to distract the beast with, my eye rests on a rock. I heave it at the animal's head, and it bounces off its skull. Hans's snarling form tramps toward me. I race away from him. As predicted, the lycanthrope chases me. Just as before, I keep my sights on my destination. I stumble over a tree root, but right myself and keep running. The werewolf's low, guttural growl indicates that he is close behind. It's pitch black, and to traverse to my goal, I rely on my memory. I sprint into the void until I feel the familiar terrain of the edge of the cliff and jump.

Free-falling in the black vacuum, I windmill my body as the ground races up at me. At the last moment, I catch a low-lying outcrop and hang on by my fingertips. The snap of them breaking echoes through the night and I cry out in agony.

My screams are drowned by a piercing, bellowing roar thunders past me, followed by the nauseating sound of bones shattering and flesh tearing.

I find my purchase on another outcrop and climb down, past the gruesome sight of Hans's mangled corpse to the ground below. Taking a few brief moments to enjoy the respite, I take deep breaths and channel my strength. Cheating, I use my magic to heal my injuries and soothe the pain.

"Well, look what we have here. A witch that's acting like she doesn't have a care in the world."

A silhouette emerges from the shadow and into the light of the fire, revealing the smug visage of an arrogant, pompous being.

"Christian."

"Hey, Scarlett. I should congratulate you on outsmarting the dog. All that's left is us."

"That's the easy part."

"What makes you so sure? You promised not to use your magic."

"I haven't, as you can see. I'm sure, because I've taken everything you have thrown at me and come out on top. Winning this war will be easy."

"We'll see," Victor replies, appearing from nowhere.

Christian and Victor circle me, their elongated canines and claws flashing, ready to attack. Christian leaps at me first, ready to sink his incisors into my carotid artery. My agile sidestep sends my attacker stumbling past me and into the hungry flames. A horrific wail of anguish erupts from the fire.

Consumed with rage, Victor throws caution to the wind and assaults me without mercy. For the second time that night, a vampire has chosen me for his meal. This is not for nourishment, but for revenge. The elder Leblanc's abhorrence flows into my blood stream, his venom electrifying my cells. My muscles tense, blood boiling, like a thousand needles running through my body. The torture threatens to consume me. I turn my head and expel a stream of fire, catching Victor's head ablaze.

"Arrghh!"

Time moves in slow motion as I stagger back, momentarily off balance, before delivering a savage jab to the side of the frantic scientist neck, below his right ear. More screaming ensues as his neck muscles painfully spasm, the carotid bruised and bleeding inside his skin. He staggers, disoriented, and collapses. I locate a branch, crack it in half and loom over Victor's prostrate form. Steadying my grip, I thrust the stake deep into his back, piercing his heart.

The supernatural desiccates, his ashes absorbed into the ground.

Placing a hand over my wound to stanch the bleeding, I hobble past the remains of my relentless pursuers and crumble next to the supine form of my heart's desire.
Chapter 55

Sebastian

Six weeks later...

Water grips my body as we bob weightlessly in the pool, but the only thing I feel is Scarlett's hot breath on my neck. She trails bliss across my skin. Her lips find mine in a voracious kiss. A subtle moan vibrates against my mouth as my hand glides past the lycra barrier, plunging my fingers into her depths. I tease her flesh and use her growing wetness to torment her clit. Her hips grind against my hand, searching for friction. My breathing becomes erratic as Scarlett returns the torture by massaging the erection straining against my swim trunks.

"B-baby, you better slow down."

"No."

The seductress continues her ministrations, alternating between fast and slow. My balls tighten, and arousal throbs against her palm. Rapture arrests my senses. Without warning, Scarlett halts her caress and pulls away from me, diving into the water. The gentle tug on my waistband is the last thing I remember of reality. Soft lips mould against my erection, leading me into an erotic dance of warmth and wetness. Her teeth glide along the length of my shaft, sending tendrils of pleasure-pain sensations. My lover's tongue dances around the ridges of the foreskin before suckling the pre-cum off the tip. Through the haze of my euphoric delirium, my body convulses in a series of spasms. It's only the shrill of the opening chords of 'Candlelight and Wine' that snaps me back to reality.

"Hello?"

"Sebastian?"

"Yes, who's this?"

"Sebastian, this is Marguerite Hann."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Hann. How are you?"

"I've been better, dear. Something awful has happened; you need to come home straight away."

"My God, what?"

"I'd rather not tell you over the phone. Just come home."

Wracked with worry, I step out of the pool with Scarlett on my heels.

"What's going on?"

"That was my mother's neighbour. She said I needed to get home. It's urgent."

"Did she say why?"

"No. We find out when we get there."

Driving the Trans-Canada highway at breakneck speed, grateful not to meet any Mounties, we arrive home in record time. Stoker's Cove is abuzz with activity.

The townsfolk are loitering in my mother's garden. Mrs. Hann burst through the door, practically mowing me down. Her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen.

"Sebastian, thank God you're here. It's awful. Just horrible."

"Please, take a breath, calm down and tell me what happened."

"It's your mother. I came over earlier this evening to have our daily cup of tea and found no sign of 'er. I went through the house and, and, oh..."

I embrace the distraught woman and encourage her to continue.

"I found Liz at the bottom the stairs, lying in a pool of blood. I called the ambulance and the cops. They took her away an hour ago."

"Did they take her to Bram Memorial?"

Blowing her nose in a well-worn tissue, Marguerite composes herself so she can respond.

"No, darling, they didn't."

"Then where did they take her?"

"The morgue. Your mother broke her neck. She was dead when I found her. I'm so sorry about this, Sebastian."

Time slows to a crawl. The melee around me blurs, fading in and out. Somewhere in the confused fog, someone hands me a note.

"Give me the note, Sebastian. You're in no shape to read it." Scarlett takes the paper from my hands. A minute later, I hear her gasp. Then, like a rubber band, her pleading nudge snaps me back. "You have to read this, Sweetheart."

Hesitant, I open the sheet of loose leaf and read the scrawled message.

Bass, I didn't mean to. I didn't.

Please, help.

Declynn

Continued in Scarlet Trilogy, Book 2: Impulse.

TURN THE PAGE FOR A SNEAK PEAK OF

BOOK 2: IMPULSE....

Chapter 1

Sebastian

Crumpling the note into a ball, I stuff it into my pocket before the town gossip and flirt sashays over. Flicking her bottle-blond hair over her shoulders, Trish Murray bats her fake eyelashes while putting a manicured hand on my bicep. "Oh Sebastian, words can't express the sorrow I feel over the tragic loss of your mother."

"Thank you, Trish, your kind words mean a lot," I lie. Trish loathed my mom.

Her hand squeezes my arm, caressing the muscle. "You're welcome, Sex, er, Sebastian."

I shiver with disgust as the widow and mother of four teenage sons eyes me with a deep, hungry gaze that scans me slowly from the top of my head to my toes. Before Scarlett can incinerate the harlot with her mind, I pull my girlfriend closer and take a step back from the lustful cougar.

"It was nice seeing you again, Trish, but if you'll excuse me, I haven't yet absorbed my mother's death, and I still have arrangements to make."

"Of course. I let you be. You know where I'm to if you need me."

"Thank you, good night."

Before turning to leave, Trish sweeps her tongue across her fire engine red lips while attempting to draw attention to the fact that she was eyeing my crotch like it was a buffet, and she's famished.

"Who in the fuck was that bitch?"

I weave Scarlett through the crowd, to the back room, the only quiet place in the house. She sinks into the seat next to me on the couch.

"That was Trish Murray, Stoker's Cove's answer to a desperate housewife, and chronic news bag."

"Her demeanour is as artificial as the rest of her."

"Yep, you got that right. She hated my mom."

"I noticed. She's hungry for your assets. I can't believe how uncouth some idiots can be. You haven't digested the fact that your mother is gone, and the shank is looking to jump your bones," Seeing my pained expression, Scarlett back pedals. "I'm sorry, Sebastian. That was highly insensitive of me. Now isn't the time or place to lose my temper."

"No need to apologize. Trish was out of line, but I don't want to think about her. I've been dodging her advances since high school. I've got more important things on my plate."

"I'm right here to support you. I know something about losing a parent. Especially one I adored. You have enough to wrap your head around, with this and your sister's cryptic note, why don't I handle the arrangements and what not?"

"Please, It'll be appreciated. I can't think right now. First my mother's mysterious death and this note. I barely have the brain power to keep breathing."

"Would you like to lie down and rest? I'll handle everything here."

"No, not now, cause I don't think I can sleep. I want to decipher the note."

"There is one good way to do that."

"How?"

Scarlett fishes my phone out my jeans pocket. Typically that simple gesture would turn me on to no end, but now I feel numb.

"Call Lynn."

Five rings. I prepare to leave a frustrated message when I hear a clipped whisper.

"Bass, that you?"

"Who else would it be? Lynn, what the fuck is going on?"

"You got my note, I see."

"Yes, I did. What does it mean?"

The murmur of distant ship's horn echoes in the background. "Lynn, where the hell are you?"

"I'm somewhere where I can get the as far away from this rock as possible."

"Jaysus, what did you do?"

" I did something awful. It should've made me feel good, but it didn't."

"Fuck, Sis, you didn't..."

"Shhh. Look, I'm in Admiral's Beach waiting to catch the ferry."

"You're going to Nova Scotia?"

"Not sure, but it's a start."

"Stay put. I will be right there."

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I try to will away the approaching migraine pounding behind my eyelids.

"Where is she?"

"She's two towns over, getting ready to take the ferry to the mainland."

"What for?"

I leap off the sofa and push the back door open. "I don't have time to explain. I got to reach my sister before she disappears, and if you don't mind, I like to go alone."

"Of course. I'll hold the fort here, but you call me the moment you get the chance."

"I promise." Pulling her lips to mine, I give Scarlett a deep, passionate kiss and let her serene, secure love wash over and tether me. It's what I sorely need now. "I love you."

"I love you. Be safe and give Lynn my love."

"Will do."

Driving the on the near vacant stretch of highway to the ferry terminal, I reflect on the last month's events. My twin was betraying my trust by leaking Scarlett's location to the madmen who wanted to murder her. Scarlett has forgiven her, but I can't. If she did what I thought she did, I don't think I ever will.

DEAR NON-NEWFOUNDLAND BORN READER,

At the beginning of this yarn, I promised ye a translation guide for the strange and perhaps confusing Newfoundland words and phrases contained in this novel. Without further ado, here is your CFW (Come from Away) guide:

  1. Come from Away: Any person who was not born and/or raised in Newfoundland and Labrador

  2. Sliveen \- a mischievous person

  3. Angishore \- a weak, miserable person

  4. Youngsters\- children

  5. Newsbag\- Nosey

  6. Stay where you're to/at till I comes where ya're at: Wait there for me

  7. Packin the arse of 'er: having sex

  8. Brudder: Brother

  9. Mudder: Mother

  10. Bayman: A person who was born/lives outside the city of St. John's.

  11. Townie: A person who was born in the city of St. John's.

  12. Mitts: Hands

  13. Yer: your

  14. Fer: for

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

Scarlet Desire was born from the ashes of another series. Destiny of the Vampire was my first series, Book 1 being my first published novel. Book 2, 3 and 4 were completed and on the road to be published when I decided to scrap them and start from scratch. Some people thought I was crazy, but the reason for doing so made sense to me. When it was said and done, Destiny of The Vampire's story didn't work. That's why I started over. Scarlet Desire takes the same characters from DOTV and fleshes them out, creating more intriguing characters and storylines. Many people helped me along this journey of rebirth.

I would first like to thank my husband, who spent many nights taking care of our angels while I took a journey with my Newfoundland vampires and witches. Thank you to you and our children for your patience, love and support.

My talented and gifted editor Michelle Browne of Magpie Editing. http://magpieediting.com

Ida Jansson of Amygdala design. My gifted cover designer and formatter. Find her at: http://www.amygdaladesign.net

Thank you to Larry Foley of the Newfoundland folk rock group, The Punters, for allowing me and feature them in a scene and their cover of "Candlelight and Wine" (original written and performed by Ryan's Fancy) from the album 'Will You Wait'. More information on The Punters: http://www.avondalemusic.com/punters.html

Credit of "Black Velvet Band" goes to:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Black_Velvet_Band

Also, I wish to thank the creators/writers of The Cause of Death Game by EA Games for inspiring some of the scenes. Though they are no longer in production, this visual novel was my favourite and I adored it. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cause_of_Death (game)

I'd be remiss if I didn't thank you, the reader, for taking the chance on this pride of joy and me. I sincerely hope that this story will bring you joy as it did for me.

AUTHOR BIO:

Tina Traverse is a passionate writer, avid reader, a self-proclaimed Autism Warrior Mom, and Proud Newfie Gal.

Tina hails from a quaint little hamlet on a quaint little island known as Canada's youngest province, Newfoundland. The desire for writing came at an early age when she wrote her own spin on the Bible's Good Samaritan story for her third grade class. When she fell off the traditional publishing path, Tina stumbled onto an exciting new path called self-publishing. It's been a thrilling journey, including publishing not only her own work, but being a part of numerous anthologies.

In her spare time, Tina enjoys leisurely strolls in the great outdoors, playing Thomas the Tank Engine with her youngest son and being beat at Wii bowling by her teenage son. Tina lives with her husband of too many years to count in a scenic town by the bay.

To connect with Tina, please visit her website at:

http://www.tinatraverse.com

