Page 10 of To Vanquish Darkness

The histories claimed that vampires could create like Le Sombre.Create.She hated that word. “Infect” was more appropriate. In olden times, after their turning, they’d wreaked havoc on humanity, injecting them with venom that turned them to shadow.

They soon learned that their creative powers came at a heavy cost. Their own strength and power were used to form every new vampire they created. They were weakened with each bite.

Nobody knew what powers they could have possessed if they hadn't diluted them by turning others. Vampires had found the curse of Le Sombre in their own desperate search for companionship. Or in their blood lust.

It was just punishment. The gods of legend were selfish, flawed and imperfect, but it did not please them to witness unfair battles. Though their magic was split at the point of infection, humans still had no recourse.

Amalie choked out a sob. No historian had record of a turned human being in ages. Shame and disgust wracked herbody. Perhaps that was why. Once someone was changed, they’d rather fling themselves off the roof than admit they were becoming a creature of the dark.

“Amalie.” Another knock.

She ignored it, her mind spinning. If people ran—if they left after being bitten—there could be an entire vampire army growing under their noses. But if the legends were true and his power would be split by turning her, why would Theo Vallon sacrifice any of his power to turn her?

Her brain poked and prodded but couldn’t find any explanation.

Amalie began to shake.

Theo’s motivation wasn’t the most troubling piece of this disaster. The more pressing concern was how this curse would manifest in her. If she stayed, would she keep her own mind? Her own heart? Would she turn into something—some animal or creature—unrecognizable?

Was her family safe? Would she become the threat?

That thought stopped her cold.

Another knock. This time, it made the door rattle.

She wouldn’t be able to avoid this. Amalie scrubbed the blood from her upper lip, then snatched the knitted blanket that lay over the end of her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders to stop her shaking.

She couldn’t let them in. It was too dangerous. “Yes, Uncle?”

“May I come in?”

“I’m not decent.” Amalie swallowed hard, clutching the blanket and forcing oxygen into her lungs to calm her frantic heart. Her body felt wrong. Like there was something foreign racing under her skin.

Aunt Maurielle murmured something, but she couldn’t make out the words.

“We need to talk to you?—”

“Through the door is fine.” Amalie stared at the open window. Was he waiting in the shadows? Would he come back?

“Amalie, I know you’re angry, but this is important.” Her uncle’s voice was ragged.

She needed to leave. Immediately. If vampire venom was coursing through her veins, she could turn at any moment. What had the history books said about that? There had been conflicting stories. Some said it was a matter of hours before one turned, other accounts listed the process as taking days, possibly a full week. She’d glazed over the details, not thinking them important. Now, she was kicking herself.

“Fine. Through the door.” The floorboards creaked as Oren let out a frustrated sigh. “You are right.”

Amalie blinked, her mind screeching to a halt. “What?”

Oren’s voice was muffled through the wood. “You were always right about the vampires, but we have rules?—”

“You told me never to say that word in this house,” Amalie hissed, stalking to the door. A hot ache burned down her throat.

“I know.”

“You told me what I saw that day in the woods was only my imagination.”

“I know.”

“You're telling me that you knew they existed?”

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