She pauses, but I stay quiet, knowing she has more to say.
“Seeing my mother bleeding out on the ground was traumatic. It didn’t seem real at first. Then the smell of blood, that metallic scent, nearly made me puke. So, I ran. I ran into the woods as fast as I could. I didn’t care what creatures were out there. If they found me and killed me, I told myself I deserved it. Instead, I found the vampire they tortured. He was on the ground, and he wasn’t healing. Or not healing fast enough. My family gave him something to slow it down.”
She doesn’t say what was used, but it could have been anything. A spell-infused herb. Blood infused with wood chips.
“The sun was set to rise in ten minutes, so I knew the vampire needed to take cover. I remembered a hunting cabin in the woods nearby and managed to wake him long enough to lead him inside.”
“He didn’t attack you?”
“Surprisingly, no. Maybe he saw my face as they tortured him. How I tried to stop them. Ibeggedthem to stop.”
She shivers, possibly seeing the memory replay inside her head at this moment. I’ve been trying to stay out of her thoughts as she relives this part of her life.
Sucking in a breath, she continues. “I offered the vampire my wrist. I knew he needed blood to heal. He tried to refuse, but I sliced my arm with the knife my parents gave me for protection and shoved my cut against his mouth. He couldn’t resist. He knew he couldn’t. He only took a little though. It must have been enough, because when I went back at sunset to check on him, he was gone. I didn’t know his name or remember what he looked like. But when I returned home, my father and brothers were in revenge mode. They were desperate to find the vampire, barely pausing to bury my mother.
“After weeks of searching, they gave up. Then my father packed up our life and moved us to Upstate New York. He went into a deep depression, and I was left to take care of my younger brother. He was only two at the time. My older brother helped but not much. And once Ethan turned five, per tradition, my father took over and began teaching him how to hunt. I was also forced to continue my training.
“My father and older brother taught me how to fight. I spent years learning their ways and only joining them on missions when they forced me to—though I refused to kill.When I turned fifteen, I had enough and told my father I didn’t want to be part of the hunt anymore. I think I didn’t say something sooner because I was too scared of how my grief-stricken father would react. He was pissed, as expected, but he never laid a hand on me. His abuse was all verbal. He called me selfish. A brat. A disgrace to the family. I realized then that I lost both parents the day my mom died.
“When I announced I didn’t want to hunt, I was cut off from all hunter business and when I turned eighteen, I moved away and went to college. But not too far from home so I could still check in on my younger brother.”
She stops talking, and I use the moment to place another kiss to the top of her head. The way her body nearly vibrates anytime I do this lets me know to keep the head kisses coming.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that. How strong you had to be to stand up to your family for what’s right.”
“Yeah,” she says, her voice quiet and laden with tears. “I always wondered what it would have been like to have a normal life. Instead of coming home from school to an empty house, my mom would be there with open arms. Or my father would be on the couch watching some sports game while trying to explain the rules to me. A life wheremy older brother picked on me for being a brat but protected me from bullies.”
She shrugs against my side.
“I don’t regret it though. I don’t regret stepping away.”
“Because you’re a kind, beautiful soul,” I say.
She doesn’t respond to that, but I sense it through the bond: love and devotion.
“What about you? Tell me about your family,” she says.
I can’t remember the last time I shared my life with anyone. Possibly Thorne, but he still doesn’t know the deep-down stuff that Xander does. Xander and I grew up together. He knows everything.
“I’ve been a soldier nearly all my life. I joined Xander’s father’s army in Paris when I turned eighteen, but we began training years earlier. I was following in my family’s footsteps. They were all soldiers: my parents, brother, and sister. I fought alongside them for decades before they left to protect London. They’ve been gone for hundreds of years now.”
“I’m sorry. How did it happen?”
“My mother was killed during a battle with an army of demons who wanted to claim the souls of all the humans in London. That was in the 1300s. My brother died a hundred years after that, killed by a hunter clan in the English countryside. My sister died by decapitation duringa battle with a rogue dragon. That was shortly before I flew here to America to join Xander’s army. And my father died a little over a hundred years ago. He was captured by a hunter.”
Farrah sits up and places her hand over my heart.
“That’s horrible, Loch. I’m sorry.”
I cover her knuckles with my palm.
“It’s not your fault. Even if the hunters who killed my brother and father were O’Herns—and they weren’t—it wouldn’t have been your fault.”
“Do you know anyone whowaskilled by…”
“I do. Some friends and fellow soldiers.”
I wipe away a tear streaking down Farrah’s cheek.
