Page 85 of To Vanquish Darkness

Another jolt nearly threw her from the bench, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing her mind to still. Instead, a vivid image of Theo laughing filled her vision. His midnight hair tumbled over his forehead, his mouth open wide in delight.

Amalie's eyes flew open.That was not real.She shook her head, willing the intruding image to disappear. But it stayed there, taunting her with its familiarity.

Had she seen that moment and forgotten?Had she experienced it firsthand, or was her brain making things up? Meshing bits and pieces together until they formed a cohesive whole?

It didn't make sense. And yet, the more she tried to unravel it, the more tangled her thoughts became. Something was happening to her. It was like she was being cleaved apart, separated from the woman she thought she was and forced to meld with a woman she knew nothing about.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes again, and this time she didn't fight them. They spilled over, tracing hot paths down her cheeks. Amalie buried her face in her hands and sobbed, her shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“Ah, mademoiselle, peut-être voulez-vous en parler?”

She shook her head.No. She didn’t want to talk about it.

How could she do this alone? How could she save her uncle when she didn't even know where to begin? She knew nothing of guardians, nothing of relics or ancient rituals. Every scrap of information she had came from Theo, and now she wasn't sure what was true and what was fabricated.

Would finding Oren even help? Would he want her to go after him if he knew what she was seeking?

She didn’t have the answers to those questions.Because he’d never talked to her about the truth.

Nearly four hours later, the cart entered a narrow lane flanked by tall hedges. Amalie’s pulse quickened, and she leaned forward, recognizing it immediately.

She stared at the shed she and Theo had sought refuge in. It felt like a lifetime ago. Her shivering next to the fire. Theo laying out her clothes to dry.

She’d hated him then. But did she now?

“I’ll get off here.” Amalie pointed to the side of the lane, and the man pulled the horse to a stop. Amalie dropped to the ground and winced, her backside aching and her legs stiff. She stretched and then forced herself to start running. The sun was dropping low, and she needed to get to Oren’s before dark.

Amalie raced through the streets of Mordelles, then retraced the path she’d taken hundreds of times out of town. She took breaks, walked, and ran until she hit the stone wall.

The gate was open when she pushed, and she rushed through the yard, jumping the steps. Amalie burst through the front door, nearly unhinging it in her haste. She didn't bother closing it behind her. "Bethany! Maurielle!" Her pulse thudded in her ears as she waited for a response.

Nothing.

She gasped for breath and took off down the hall. "Bethany! Maurielle!" Her voice was desperate, her hands beginning to go numb.

The only answer was the echo of her voice against the walls.

The house still looked lived in. Exactly as she’d left it. Hope sparked in her chest as she flew down the hall and threw open the door to her uncle’s study.

Amalie skidded to a stop, unable to understand the scene in front of her.

Uncle Oren.

Hunched over his desk, inspecting something.

With Theo bent next to him, a hand on his shoulder.

36

1836 COUNTRYSIDE BEYOND MORDELLES, FRANCE

Amalie stared at the man who’d been like a father to her. She blinked several times, not understanding what she was seeing. Her guardian—the man who’d raised her after her mother had died—was standingnext to Theo.

A vampire.

Who, up until a week ago, he denied the existence of. “You know each other?” She gritted her teeth, desperately fighting the urge to curse her uncle out in his own home or run to him and make sure that what she was seeing was real.

He looked like himself. He didn’t have marks on his neck. “I heard you were attacked,” she rasped, her emotions locked in hand-to-hand combat.

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