But before Agnes could answer, her gaze shifted to me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as if sensing something sinister lurking beneath the surface.
“It is she who brings this darkness,” she said, her voice filled with a mixture of warning and concern. “Beware, child, for there are forces at work here that are beyond your understanding.”
Agnes began to mutter an incantation under her breath, her hands waving intricate patterns in the air as she attempted to unravel the mystery that surrounded me. The air crackled with energy, and I stood still, unable to move. And as I opened my mouth, I was also unable to speak; the air was being pulled from my lungs.
Agnes kept staring at me and repeating the same incantations. I struggled to breathe. Vail’s hands shot out, grasping her grandmother’s arm with force.
“No, Grandmother, please!” Vail pleaded. “You cannot do this. You will only make matters worse. Rosie was leaving anyway.”
Agnes paused, as her gaze flickered away from mine for a moment. The energy vanished, and my body remained mine once more.
But then, with a resigned sigh, Agnes relented, her expression softening as she withdrew from her spellcasting. “Very well, my child,” she said, her voice heavy with regret. “Mark my words, there is darkness at work here, and we ignore it at our own peril.”
With that, Agnes turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the house. As we watched her go, neither of usspoke, the weight of her grandmother’s words hanging between us like a heavy shroud. But then, with a trembling breath, Vail turned to me, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination.
“You need to leave,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “I apologize about that, but you should go before she changes her mind. I do not want you to get hurt.”
And as I looked into her eyes, I knew that she was right. I went to her and held her in my arms. “I love you,” I told her and held onto her tightly.
“I love you too, Rosie. I will see you soon.”
Her words tore out my heart. I couldn’t look back at her as I left.
THIRTY-NINE
January 26, 2010
“How well do you know Vail?” Connor asked me. We were in his van, driving back to his apartment. I offered to drive him home after the party; he had been wallowing on Sam’s couch, drinking beers all night, and was too drunk to drive home. I could tell he was sad or pissed off after the revelation Sam told him. But I continued to pretend like I didn’t know anything.
“Vail?” I asked, my gaze fixed on the road ahead. I already knew what he was going to ask me, so I maintained a composed expression, unwilling to reveal anything in my facial expressions.
“Yeah.” The city lights blurred in streaks of colour, casting a glow across Connor’s face. Reluctance tightened my chest, and my jaw tensed as I struggled to find the right words.
“I’ve known her since childhood,” I confessed, though it wasn’t entirely a lie. I had known her since childhood—my childhood just happened to be over one hundred and thirty years ago.
“But you’ve told me that this new year was the first time you’ve seen her in a while?” Connor’s casual tone morphed into an interrogative, detective-like vibe. I saw the gears inhis mind clicking, the unspoken accusation hanging in the air. He probably thought that Vail and I hadn’t seen each other because she was absent due to a Vampire transformation. Little did he know the truth was far more intricate.
“It’s been a while since we last saw each other.”More like over seventeen years.
“Why didn’t you see each other?”
“Because we ...” I hesitated for a moment before deciding to rip off the band-aid. “Because we broke up.”
The silence in the car stretched for a couple of seconds longer than I would have preferred, and I held my breath, waiting for Connor’s response.
“You two dated?” Connor’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, and I could see the flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
“Yes, we did.” I couldn’t help the nostalgic smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. Mine and Vail’s relationship had always been complicated. A whirlwind love affair that was on again, off again for most of the twentieth century.
“And what happened? Why did you break up?” Connor inquired, his tone gentle and understanding.
“I was too hung up on an ex, and I could never fully commit.”
“The man you were married to?” Connor asked me in a voice that was less accusatory and more empathetic.
“Yes,” I confirmed, meeting his gaze.
“So, you broke it off?
