Page 261 of Shifting Hearts 1
Steven hesitated. The room held its breath. I cut the silence because it felt like drowning.
“He doesn’t know,” I said.
“I don’t know, Blaze.” His answer landed like a stone.
“Don’t call me that. My name is Natasha,” she snapped, brittle as glass. I let out a soft huff.
“You’re disappearing,” Steven said. “You need to feed. Regularly.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Natasha, you can’t change the past. We all have dark things. We fought them.” He sounded tired, like an old soldier repeating the same orders.
“Does your dark include burning people alive?” Her words were venom. “Did you enjoy the silence after the werewolves’ howls faded?”
“You know the answer,” he said, impatience pricking his voice. “My past was ugly. I battled through it. You have to fight.”
“I don’t want to fight!” she snapped, and the admission shredded the room. “That’s the problem. I want to die. I don’t want this.”
Steven’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t unearth who you were for you, or why you wanted this so badly. But you did want it once. I don’t think you meant to become…this. Find that reason. If you end it, you’ll regret it in the last beat. Fight for that ghost of a reason.”
“It’s too late. You made sure of it.” I couldn’t keep the anger in; it tore out of me.
She laughed, tired, bitter, sharp. “I don’t know if anything’s left in me, Steven. Please, make Cass see what she’s done. Put me out of my misery.”
“Natasha,” he whispered, “don’t ask me to do that.”
Silence settled again. She flopped back on the bed like a spent thing, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“Please go. You’re no use to me.” Her voice was flat.
He left. The door clicked. The room shrank back to the two of us, her and the hollow that no pleading could reach. Nothing was getting through. Nothing.
One day,without warning, I was jolted forward.
Natasha stepped out of her room for the first time in what felt like forever. She lingered in the hallway, motionless, like she was caught in some invisible current. After an eternity, she turned back and returned to her room.
“What was that?” I muttered to myself.
A few days later, it happened again. And then again. Soon, leaving her room became a ritual, slow, deliberate, haunted. She ignored the stares, the whispered questions, even Cassandra’s sharp inquiries.
Was she trying?
I exhaled, more to myself than anyone. She always loved the library, and I couldn’t blame her. Any room that wasn’t the prison of her four walls was a relief. That room, the one she’d been locked in all this time, had become unbearable.
The library stretched endlessly, a cathedral of knowledge, filled with tomes from every corner of the world, spanningcenturies. I longed to know the year. To mark the passage of time. Morgan was long dead, but every surface was silent. No newspapers, no calendars, no whispers of the world outside.
We were there again when one of the newer vampires arrived. Claire, I think her name was, though I barely cared. She informed Natasha that guests had arrived, that Cassandra required her presence. Morgan nodded, and Claire departed.
And then I froze.
Leigh and Alex stood there, alive. The sight anchored me. Finally, I knew the year. Finally, there was a thread of hope that this long nightmare might end, that we could reclaim our lives.
Seeing Alex and Leigh stirred a tangle of relief and regret. I cursed myself for not being there sooner, for letting so much time slip away. Familiar faces from a past life, and I knew, deep down, what was coming.
Morgan moved on, leaving the reunion unabsorbed by me. Against my will, I followed.
She came to an abrupt stop behind a pillar, her posture rigid, her panic rising. I traced my gaze past her to Alex and Leigh and then it hit me.
