It sounds worse every dusk I come back inside and lie down beside him and fake it.
Six mornings, Celeste. Six.
I check the sky. The light has shifted.
Time to go.
I’m brushing the grass off my knees when I hear it.
Movement at the edge of the woods. Something prickles at the back of my neck, the same instinct that used to tell me when an opponent was about to move before they did.
I’m already turning when I hear the voice.
“Remarkable.”
Male. Calm. Unhurried.
My hands come up, and my power flares in every direction at once, a hard shove toward the voice.
Twenty feet away at the edge of the clearing, Konstantin stands with his weight on his back foot and his hands clasped behind him.
My telekinesis hits him. I feel it connect, everything I’ve built in six mornings in one hard push.
His coat shifts slightly as if it’s been ruffled by a light breeze. That’s all.
He’s in the sun. Full morning light on his face.
He isn’t burning.
Oh, shit. This is not good.
I’m already running the numbers.
Every vampire in the compound is dormant. Maximus is dormant. There is no one within range to hear me. They are all sealed behind blackout shutters and dead to the world until dusk.
The only person who knows I’m out here is standing twenty feet away with the sun on his face like it’s nothing.
Great odds, Celeste.
“You’ve been out here.” I keep my hands up. “How long?”
“Six mornings.” He tilts his head. “I wanted to understand what you were becoming.”
Six mornings. He’s been at the edge of the woods for every one of them.
I go for him.
Full force, everything I’ve built concentrated into the space between us. Wood splinters somewhere to my left. Rocks scatter. The air compresses.
He steps to the side. One clean movement.
My telekinesis hits the empty woods behind him, and a branch drops.
I’m already moving, but he’s faster. By enough that when I catch the motion, he’s already past my guard, and his hand catches the chain at my throat in one pull. The clasp gives. I grab for it, but he’s already two steps back, the necklace swinging from his fingers.
I stop.
No.
