The night we fled Lyndi’s cottage, I hadn't just seen my first vampire. I'd seen an entire swarm of them storming the foothills.
The vision came within an hour of their arrival. There wasn’t time for Lyndi to explain—she was too busy yelling at Wyatt to ready his guns and stuff the car with our essential belongings. By sundown, our safe haven had finally been breached. The oracle’s hands trembled as she clasped the eye dangling from her neck, removed the chain, and hastily strung it along Maurleen's.
"Take her as far away as you can. And this, too. It's yours now."
Maurleen threw her arms around her, eyes glassy."There's still time. Please. You can come."
“Forget about me.”
In the dark, Wyatt's bullets sprayed in every direction, ricocheting off the trees.
With a shove, Lyndi broke their embrace."Start the damn car, Maurleen."
Out of the shadows, a vampire catapulted itself, knocking me to the ground. The way its vile jaws snapped, it could have been rabid. I screamed when a silver blade was suddenly thrust into its chest. Lyndi pulled me off the grass and all but threw me into the backseat of her hatchback. Across the lawn, Wyatt pumped his legs, looking over his shoulder every so often to shoot the demons who pursued him. Another vampire punched through the back window, swiping at me. I kicked it in the nose, bone crunching with a hiss. Panting wildly, Wyatt flung open the passenger door and swapped his gun out for a larger barrel.
"Get out of here!"Lyndi belted.
Maurleen stomped on the gas pedal, kicking up dust and gravel. Wyatt growled at me to keep my head down as he lined up his shot through the busted back window. But I didn’t listen. Behind Lyndi, a cloaked figure wearing a dark red mask stalked towards her. Her eyes stayed fixed on Wyatt as we sped down the road. One last time, he fired and missed, the shot shattering the porch light.
Dread pulsated in my stomach as I watched the figure place a pale hand on Lyndi's shoulder. Unwavering in courage, it seemed as if she'd been anticipating this moment. She dropped to her knees, staring up at the mask, which beheld the morbid face of a beetle, exposing a mouth framed by sharp pincers. Beneath a set of horizontal slits shone bright eyes of citrine. When he finally cast his gaze upon my window, his head cocked to the side curiously, mouth agape. A devious smile formed then, revealing a set of curved fangs. It was him—the Blood Master. The realization stole my breath as we disappeared behind the bend, those sinister eyes forever etched into my darkest fears.
Chapter 3
VESSA
Present Day—Territory of Glacier Meadow
Cold sweat coats my forehead when I stir, bones rattling like a wind-up toy. I hear it again. The heavy slump.
Jolting out of bed, I peek out into the hallway. Whispers lure me through the sitting room and past the kitchen, where I find Maurleen kneeling in the candlelit alcove.
The curtain has been drawn, the waxing moon projecting a spotlight on her freckled face. Atop the wooden altar, her conduit, a yellow tourmaline, glows. Between her legs, a granite bowl contains a small inferno, consuming the roots of a plant I’ve been warned against ever touching. Mandrake. She breathes in the fumes, eyes dilated and back arching as she converses with what can only be a spirit guardian. Along with visions of the future, these spirits are what led Maurleen and her mate to me that fateful night three summers ago.
Since then, I’ve seen Maurleen conduct this midnight ritual numerous times. If it weren’t for the lethargic groans smothering the sweet chime to her voice, I’d almost bedesensitized to it. But this is different. She shudders like she’s being berated.
As the banter with the spirit grows heated, I fall beside her. I say her name gently, coaxing her back to our realm. The connection severs with a gasp. She collapses into a fetal position.
“Lyndi again?" I ask.
With a small nod, her left hand opens. In her palm rests a silver pendant, about the size of a walnut. Opposite-facing crescent moons intersect, their crossing edges protruding, sharp enough to open skin. In the center rests a smooth white orb, an eye carved from moonstone. Most days, the necklace is hidden from view, except for eerie nights such as these, when the voices of the dead have a warning to convey.
I rub Maurleen's shoulder. I whisper her name, but to no response. I try again, palming her cheek to turn her face towards me. Her eyes roll back into her head and with a thud, she hits the tile floor in a fit of spasms.
"Maurleen!" Wyatt is there in an instant, cradling her to his chest.
In the bowl beside her, the flame extinguishes, embers drifting up to her cheeks. Her breathing levels out, eyes blinking open. She clutches Lyndi's pendant tightly, tilting up to look at me.
"What did you see, baby?" Wyatt asks.
"Vessa's mate," she breathes. "I know where to find him."
My entire body goes rigid as I draw in a sharp breath.
On the eve of January’s full Bone Moon, eligible males and females gather in the lycan capital where three weeks of parties, ceremonial offerings, and tournaments are held to invoke the wolf deity’s blessing and honor the birth of her fraternal twins—the first lycans. Those who are lucky enough to find their mate are not summoned to the final hunt, the last chance unmated males have to find their match before the season’s end. Thisyear, wolf country’s southernmost forest will be hosting the culmination of the festivities.
Maurleen presses on Wyatt's thigh to hoist herself back up. "Lupercalia is entering its final week. He'll be there—at the closing procession. We can’t get Vessa into the capital, but we can enter her in the hunt.”
One Week Later
