Page 17 of A Sacrifice in the Smoke

At this question, Ada’s vibrant eyes shift away and fix on the stormy horizon.No, not the horizon, I think in one of those inexplicable bursts of intuition.The mansion.

“She told me that my niece shouldn’t pay for the sins of my brother,” Ada answers finally.

The words echo through my head for a moment. I’m staring at Ada again, but this time, I know why she’s always seemed so familiar. Why her dislike always cuts just a little deeper. It’s because she reminds me of him, the brother she seems to despise so much.

“Well, I’m not technically your niece,” I say faintly, tired of the pain, tired of the sadness. “I’ll call you about the room. Thanks for making this service happen—I know you probably footed the bill. Nina is lucky to have you.”

“Charlotte—”

I pretend not to hear and hurry toward the gate, ducking my head down against the rain.

Then, as is becoming a habit, I run.

* * *

I try to hypnotize myself.

When I open my eyes, I won’t remember what happened in the tunnels last night. I won’t experience the flashes of horror in my mind. I won’t even remember Ada’s revelation, and the decision that now awaits me—stay here, in this hotel, where she doesn’t have the power to kick me out, or take a chance and return to the boardinghouse to live with an aunt I didn’t know I had.

It doesn’t work. For as long as I live, I will never forget the life of Andrew Hayes. Or the death.

Restless, I get up from the bed and go to the mini bar. I pour a generous glass of vodka and down it without tasting anything. Quite honestly, I’m not sure why I bothered with the glass—the idea of polishing off this bottle and passing out for hours is pretty damn appealing.

After my third glass, I wander around the room. Grief is a haze of sadness and exhaustion that clings to every fibre of my being. But instead of that exhaustion dragging me into the darkness of rest, it ignites a fiery anger inside me. The monster that I’ve been battling for as long as I can remember is rearing her hideous head. Hunger tears through my veins faster than ever before.I want blood, she says. Maybe if I give in, just a little, it will shut her up for a while.

I call the feeder suite and make a reservation with Deacon. A few minutes and another drink later, I’m stepping out of the elevator and into the lobby. Deacon is waiting for me in our usual room when I arrive.He must live close, I muse to myself as I sit next to him.

“Hey, Charlie.” He offers me a warm smile from where he lays on the cushioned table. I muster a wan smile in return. Deacon says something else, but I’m thinking of Drew now. Maybe it’s because Deacon’s grin reminds me of his, at certain angles. “Charlie?”

“Huh?” I refocus on Deacon, swallowing. “Sorry, what?”

“I was telling you about the girl I met the other day. We went out last night and it was… amazing.”

The look on his face is probably the same one I had after spending my first day with Drew. I force a smile and hope my voice comes across normal as I say, “That’s great.”

“That’s one way to put it. I actually think… I think I might love her.” When I say nothing, Deacon studies me. “Have you ever been in love?”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. “You know, I’m not really in the mood for chitchat today. I’m sorry,” I say instead.

The human nods and silently turns his face away from me, exposing his throat. This time, there isn’t a moment of hesitation.

I sink my fangs into Deacon’s neck and drink deeply, greedily, tearing through his delicate skin. His blood flows freely as he moans softly. The monster isn’t gentle this time—maybe it’s because of all his talk about love. I can feel my humanity slipping away as Deacon’s heart rate drastically spikes and slows. He’ll die if I don’t stop.

But I’m not going to stop.

That girl is going to break his heart, the monster whispers.We’re doing him a kindness with this painless, pleasurable death.

She’s right. He would be grateful for it… and I would be a killer.

No. I don’t want this.

I reel back, jumping to my feet, and growl as Deacon’s blood spills down my chin. Tears fill my eyes as I stand frozen, staring down at his still form. I push my hearing out, praying for sound, and gasp with relief when I hear a dangerously faint heartbeat.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and fumble to pull my phone out of my pocket. Lifting it to my ear, I press my back against the wall and keep my eyes on Deacon’s chest to make sure it’s still moving.

The phone rings twice before the line opens.

“Charlie? It’s the middle of the day. What are you doing up?” Noah says by way of greeting, his voice throaty with sleep.

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