Liz veers us off the gravel path, guiding me toward a break in the trees. We leave behind the tidy hedges and perky flower beds that line the outskirts of NightShade and slip into older, unkept terrain—oversized woods, where the air smells of moss, earth, and peace. The canopy above filters sunlight into golden threads that dance along the forest floor.
“Hurry along,” she says after we’ve already been walking quietly for a good ten minutes. “There’s somewhere I want to show you while we talk. I have a feeling you could use a place to breathe.”
“Are you sure this isn’t the part where you murder me and blame it on my attitude?” I ask, only half-joking.
“Tempting,” she tosses over her shoulder with a wink. “But no. It’s a special spot. Your mom brought me here when I was a baby vamp, all bloodlust and bad choices.”
Knowing that we’re going somewhere that meant something to my mother gives me pause, especially after my earlier conversation with Archie.
“How did you meet her?”
“She was my first friend after I was turned,” Liz says, her voice softer now. “After she saved me.”
I blink again, harder this time, thanks to my uncontrollable emotions. There’s so much to learn about who my mom was, yet I’m unsure what to say or ask next.
Less than a minute later, the woods open up just enough to reveal a sprawling oak tree, ancient and crooked like it’s been here for a hundred lifetimes. Its branches stretch toward the sky like it’s trying to hold the clouds in place. From one of the thicker limbs, a weathered wooden swing hangs, creaking gently in the breeze.
“This was her spot,” Liz says, gesturing to it. “When things got too heavy, when being Hollowborn felt like a curse instead of a gift, this is where Jocelyn escaped to.”
She flops onto the wide swing, then pats the space next to her like it’s a VIP seat.
I sink down beside her, my knees brushing hers. “So, you knew her well?”
“Maybe better than anyone by the time she left,” she says, tone more serious now. “I was dumped on the manor’s doorstep by a sire who didn’t know what to do with me. Jocelyn found me half-feral and blood-starving, and instead of having someone put me down, she took me in. She told me that if I wanted to survive my new reality that I needed to stop feeding off pain and learn how to protect people instead.”
That sounds exactly like Mom. Fierce, compassionate, and borderline terrifying when she decided something needed fixing.
“She trained you?” I ask.
Liz’s grin returns. “No, she wasn’t physically strong enough for that, but her words were more than enough to change my circumstances. Jocelyn taught me how to be someone I could stand to look at in the mirror afterbeing turned into a monster with an instinct for murder.”
The smile slips, replaced by something aching.
“Jocelyn kept you hidden because she thought it was the only way to keep you safe,” she says. “We stayed in touch after she left, but eventually, the risk was too high. She wanted so badly to give you a normal life that she shut the door on everything supernatural except Archibald. If no one knew what you were, the prophecy couldn’t take root. At least that was how she saw things.”
There it is again. That damn word.
Prophecy.
I pick at a fraying edge on the swing rope. “Can we talk about that now? The prophecy?”
Liz leans back slightly, her hazel eyes searching mine. “Yeah. We should.” She lets out a short exhale before continuing. “There’s an old Hollowborn myth called the Ashmark. It speaks of a child born from two species—Hollowborn and supernatural. Someone who would carry both bloodlines and, because of it, be invulnerable to all mythical and mortal means. No one would be able to kill them. Not by blade, by spell, or even pure hatred.”
Confusion floods through me, and a crease deepens in my brow. “If I can’t be killed, then why am I on some sort of hit list? Isn’t that why I’m being forced to stay here?”
She briefly pats my hand. “I told you yesterday. I won’t let them force you to stay, but I asked you to stay long enough to be informed. But I guess you should know first, you haven’t actually become the Ashmark yet. Until your wolf is unlocked, you’reat your most vulnerable state. Once that finally happens, then you won’t be able to die, but that doesn’t mean you won’t wish for death should they get their hands on you.”
I really shouldn’t ask. I read the book, and putting off that first shift sounded like a great idea, but…
“So, if someone gets into the manor and kills me, I’ll die for real this time? No second chances at figuring this insane life out?”
“Correct,” Liz says. “You’re in transition right now. You’re not human, nor Hollowborn, nor shifter. Until you bond with your wolf, theoretically, someone powerful enough could kill you, which, based upon what most believe of the prophecy… That’s exactly what they’re hoping to do.”
Great. I guess next I’ll be attempting to force myself into a human-shaped pretzel before turning into an oversized mutt.
That snide thought elicits a snarl from within. One that doesn’t come from me necessarily, but the being hanging out in the background. My wolf.
No offense meant, I think, wondering if she can actually understand everything I say.
