Page 51 of The Curse of Eternity
Instead of confirming or denying it, Drake smiled. “I am sorry for pulling you down with me—attaching my problems to yours.” Even marred by direct sunshine, his striking, ghoulish features and soft accent lit up my heart like tinder took to fire.
Vehement, I shook my head and ambled a step closer. “When I went to find you that night—at the park—it was to thank you for saving my life in that damn parking lot.”
Surprise cascaded across Drake’s expression as he subtly moved nearer, if only by inches. He seemed about to say something, and then changed tracks when he opened his mouth. “You could still notify your family to come for you, it is not too late. Otherwise, I could fund your fare home. Even if Ezraweretempted to scry for you, there are ways for a living person to ward against it. Winston could assist you with—”
“You need me there, right? That’s what Ezra was implying—abloodrelative of Dracula is the key. Well, here I am, his long-descended niece. You won’t get that ring without me.” Saying it out loud only strengthened my belief, especially when Drakeseemed at a loss to argue against it. Except, that wasn’t the whole reason for why I was going along with it.
“Also… If I did call my family to come get me, it would put you and Winston at risk. I couldn’t—Idon’twant that.”
My face heated as I glanced up to meet Drake’s gaze. He blinked, only once, but it was like something shifted inside of him that extended to the air between us. The space faded as he leaned in, carefully angling closer until we were only inches apart.
“I do not deserve you,” he whispered, so matter-of-fact, but his mind melting accent encouraged my eyes to close while I breathed him in. Death and blood lingered on him, somewhere deep in his veins that went beyond washing off what had been stained to his skin. Somehow, it didn’t smell so unpleasant anymore.
Heart racing, my thoughts a mess, I slowly opened my eyes and said, “Well, I’m all the backup you’ve got. Hope you don’t mind.” It was the last thing I wanted to say.Why was it so hard to express what kept pulsating under my skin?Like revealing too much would break all the trust I’d built up, even if I’d already run out of excuses for why I shouldn’t embrace how I felt.
His chuckle sounded genuine, but the resignation behind his eyes seemed too sad to reflect his lingering smile. The same sentiment I’d glimpsed when I found him in the park. Almost like he had his own doubts. Just beneath the surface, and hidden by his calm exterior.
Leaning away, he started for the door and said, “Yours are the only reinforcements I shall ever need, love.”
Flutters ricocheted through my chest as I followed a few steps behind him, and then my brow furrowed.When, exactly, had he started calling me that?
− 17 −
Without a Trace
The world outside the kitchen window shifted another shade darker, revealing a speckle of stars against the plum sky. When the cloud cover let up enough to see them, anyway. With my elbows resting on the breakfast nook table, I chewed through my third slice of pizza, careful to keep the garlic powder from sliding off.
Since dhampirs were pretty much just humans that aged slow as molasses, and with no daylight restrictions to boot, Winston was well-acquainted with all the best eateries in town. Warmth closed in all around, from the fire in the living room hearth—visible through the wide open archway—to the air vents creating a low thrum as they pumped out hot air.
Honestly, Winston kept the place warmer than our church back in Albuquerque.
I placed my burnt crust onto my plate, situated right beside the sharp and pointy instrument Winston had scrounged up. The machete’s blade had a dull sheen, but since Winston claimed he’d only bought it to tackle a snare of poison ivy about a decade ago, that was expected. The point sharpened up just fine with alittle elbow grease, and I smirked at the memory of when Johann taught me to use a whetstone back when I was eight.
All that cheese and dough became a rock in my stomach, and I exhaled a sigh. Winston looked up from his seat on the stool beside the counter, his brow raised, and I shrugged. Having only woken up an hour ago, I hadn’t taken the time to debate over whether or not to send a message to my family. Would it hurt them more to get a postcard post-mortem, or to never know what had happened to me?
They probably figured I’d gone off on another bender, anyway.My lips pursed.Maybe it served them right to never know what happened to me.By now, they’d have found my car, seemingly abandoned at the park close to the Rio Grande.What if they drag the river looking for me?I winced, and stifled another sigh. As tragic as it seemed, wouldn’t it be better if they stayed ignorant?
Finding out about the Domnitori had changed my worldview completely, but Johann—he was always the man with a plan. He saw our family through thick and thin, and he’d spend the rest of his life trying to take down that evil if he found out that’s what tookme. Even if things were never the same between us after Mom died.
It was at her funeral that I changed his name in my contacts list to ‘Johann’ instead of just…Dad. I never called him by his name to his face, but it was like I was forcing some separation between us. Considering I’d just lost Mom, it made sense. Instead of coming together to grieve, we’d shut down.
Both Uncle Alaric and Aunt Susan were there to support us, physically and emotionally, but sometimes it felt like I was an outsider looking in. My cousins got to finish growing up with both of their parents, and I didn’t. Every time I was around them for the months after, that fact blared in my head alongside the pain in my chest.
On the rare occasions when it was just me and Johann in the room together, what we’d lost weighed heavily in the air between us. The elephant in the room that crushed both of our spirits. Without saying a word, we reminded each other of who was supposed to be there. Which sucked, but we survived.Too bad our father-daughter relationship didn’t.
During therapy last year, I let loose that innocuous truth, and my psychologist made a huge deal about it. Like it connected the dots, solidifying my trust issues and explaining away every awful thing I’d ever done. Except, that wasn’t the whole picture, because Ididtrust my family. It was me that I didn’t trust—my ability to do anything right, to make decisions that anyone would be proud of.
I’d spent far too long living under the pressure of expecting myself to fail at the first try. It was why I couldn’t pass up a hunt, the one thing I could do that meant something. For longer than I could remember, nothing I ever didfeltright. Like everyone around me had it all figured out. Their path forward seemingly already paved, but I was lost. Even when I tried following in their footsteps.
Until now, because Drake needed me, and I had the chance to save him.
It went beyond paying him back. I couldn’t keep being chickenshit by denying the truth to myself. Ever since meeting him, every choice I’d made finally felt like the correct path. I stared out the sliding glass doors, to where Drake leaned against the far railing, surveying the dark woods beyond.
His sight would be better than mine when it came to night vision. Just how easily could he see through the dim?Maybe as clearly as he’d seen through me…
“Can I have a piece of paper and a pen?” I asked through a heavy exhale, my focus returning to Winston. The tall man clapped his hands together, dispersing pizza crumbs, andpromptly hopped off the stool. Silent, he moved to a low-hanging shelf beneath a funky ticking clock shaped like a cat—the sort of thing Everly would thrift given the chance.
Winston returned to hand over a pad of lined paper and a black ballpoint pen. Taking them in my right hand, I moved my crumb-laden plate aside with my left—which Winston promptly took—and I sluggishly uncapped the pen. At first, I could only think as far as addressing the letter with ‘Dear Dad.’ Then the words spilled out of me, onto the page and inked into existence despite every word being a lie.
