Page 87 of To Vanquish Darkness

Theo shook his head. “Her blood won’t work on me, and I haven’t had access to anyone outside of my coven.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Amalie stood, her hands shaking. “My entire life you told me these creatures didn't exist. Now you want me to believe you're in league with them? Why would Theo care to protect us?"

"Because you asked me to."Theo’s voice was raw.

His words didn’t make sense.They never made any sense.Amalie stood. Her body felt so heavy it could sink through the floor.

Uncle Oren sighed. “Amalie?—”

“No. You two can have your secrets. I came to make sure you were safe.” Her eyes flashed as she pulled off Olivie’s cap and let her hair fall around her shoulders. She turned to Theo. “Ren followed me from the sand flats to Servon. I believe I lost him, but I’m not sure. I assume since he’s not here with you, that’s significant.”

Amalie spun on her heel and stalked from the room. Neither of them followed her up the stairs, and she was glad for it. She needed time to think.

It felt like years since she’d entered her bedroom. Had it only been a week?

She closed the door behind her, and took in the narrow bed pushed against one wall and the armoire standing guard opposite. She gazed over her rumpled covers. Her mother's face swam before her eyes, smiling gently as she brushed Amalie's hair back from her forehead. How many times had she sat on this very bed while her mother told her a story? How many nights had she woken from nightmares only to be comforted by her soothing voice?

Amalie’s throat burned. It had been more of Maurielle at the last. Had she ever thanked her aunt for that? When her mother had been gone, she’d been the one to rub her back and sing her to sleep.

Amalie crossed to the window and yanked open the shutters. The window made her think of Theo, and she gritted her teeth as she sucked the cool evening air down like water, trying to calm the racing thoughts tumbling through her mind.

Her mother had known all of this. She’d had the answers, and she’d asked Oren to keep them from her.Why?

There had been so many times when she could have asked her questions, but she hadn’t known she held secrets. The mother she’d seen was such a small sliver of the woman she might’ve known and loved.

She would have told her. Amalie had no doubt about that. Had she learned of vampires, her mother never would have lied like Uncle Oren. If she’d been there, Amalie never would’ve left. She never would’ve thought she could vanquish vampires.

Amalie collapsed onto her arms and let the emotions of the past two days wash over her. She still wasn’t safe. Her family wasn’t safe. Even if she found the relic, how could one sword be the answer?

A bird chirped and she lifted her head. The little starling sat on a bougainvillea branch. The flowers were gone this time of year, and yet . . .

Life went on. The vine deepened its roots. Birds called. The sun rose and fell.

Amalie swiped the tears from her cheeks and closed the shutters, then dropped to her knees beside the bed, her fingers scrabbling at the loose floorboard beneath. The wood lifted easily, revealing a hollow space where a small wooden box lay nestled among the dust and cobwebs.

Amalie pulled it out, setting it on the bedspread and tracing the intricate carvings. This had belonged to her grandmother, then her mother, and now it was hers. They’d touched it. Held it in their hands.

She tried for the thousandth time to open it. It wouldn't budge. Her fingers burned as she dug her nails into the seam between the lid and base, prying until her fingers ached, then switched tactics and tried to press along the edges. When that failed, she stood and searched the room for something to use as a lever—a letter opener, a hairpin—but found nothing suitable.

Finally, she returned to the bed and glared at the box, her breath coming fast and shallow. "Open," she hissed through gritted teeth, gripping either side of the lid. It refused to give way.

With a growl, she raised the box above her head and hurled it across the room. There was a crack of wood, and splintered pieces flew in all directions.

What if there had been something delicate inside? Something irreplaceable?

Amalie stared at the shattered remains of the box. Jagged pieces of wood and scattered trinkets lay strewn across the floor. She dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she reached for the fragments.

She sifted through the debris, moving splinters of wood as her eyes burned. The box had been a precious link to her mother, and now it lay in ruins.But she could’ve made it easier to open.

Amalie yanked her hand back when a sharp sting pulsed through her finger. Panic surged through her, her mind flashing back to her pulling on a piece of skin. To her window surging open. To Theo Vallon standing in front of her.

Amalie pulled the sliver out quickly, bringing her finger to her mouth to suck on the wound and stop the bleeding.Stupid.

She held her finger out to dry and watched. It was a small enough prick, the bleeding didn’t last long, thankfully. She resumed cleaning, that time more carefully, not allowing her thoughts to drop to Oren’s study below.

After forming a small pile of wreckage, Amalie paused at the sight of a delicate paper swan with crumpled wings. The sight of it hit her like a bag of bricks.

Her mother's hands folded in her lap. "Take this piece, and fold it over."

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