Page 3 of Ashvale: The Vampire's Kiss

“Yes,” I said and the room fell silent.

“Yes?”

“Yes, Rowan deserved it.” The air stirred and I knew Emerson was holding Novalie back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?—”

Relief was dizzying as I turned and stepped into her personal space, peering into her eyes and nodding. "You didn't know."

Novalie jerked away from Emerson, the movement sharp, but the other girl didn't seem to mind. “Know what? That you’re a murderous bitch?”

“That he was the one who murdered me.” The tension eased like a knife had cut through the fear in the room, the anger. Clearly, Hayes hadn’t filled them in on anything after I’d taken off. On the one hand, their authentic reactions soothed my worry that they were just more people keeping secrets from me. On the other, Hayes had swanned off and let our friends think I was an unhinged murderer.

“Oh.”

“Motherfucker,” Emerson growled and I was surprised when she was the one who started for the door, her long legs eating up the space quickly. “Motherfucker.”

“Emerson—” I began, eyes wide as I looked at Novalie and then started toward my fledgling, but Novalie beat me to it, zipping towards the door quickly and blocking Em’s way. The shudder that wracked Em was my cue to intervene though, lest Novalie had her throat ripped out. “Where are you going?”

Her eyes found mine, wild with hunger and rage, the echo of the same betrayal I'd been battling and I knew it was because of the connection we shared. Some kind of loyalty between fledgling and creator. “To finish what you started.”

“He's here?” I said, calmly, the world slowing until it felt like I was underwater. “He’s alive?”

“He's in a coma,” Novalie said, shaking her head and watching Em out of the corner of her eye. “He hasn't woken up yet.”

Yet. Breathing was a reflex, hard to shake, but in that moment I held my breath, unsettled by the idea of being in the same space as him, sharing the air as if he hadn't torn my life away. “Do they think he will?”

Novalie shrugged and Emerson cracked her neck to one side as she breathed out shakily, the flash of rage starting to settle. I understood, we all did, becoming an undead vampire was hard enough when you were prepared and trained for it. Emerson hadn't had that luxury. Neither had I.

“They're not sure. You know transformations without the heart...”

I nodded jerkily, not really needing the reminder. I'd known what I was doing when I'd gone after to Rowan and found him waiting, like he'd known all along that I'd be coming for him. I didn't need excuses or more explanations. They wouldn't give me my life back. No, what I'd needed was to feel the heat of his blood on my hands, the fragility of his heart in my palms.

I’d seen first-hand what happened when a living vampire lost their heart, thanks to Elowen’s experiment before I’d left. Most vampires didn’t survive it. The change could heal almost any wound, though the greater the injury, the longer the transition took. Most living vampires didn’t have the strength to even begin the transformation and instead found true death. The fact that Rowan was still hanging on, two months down the line…

“Sorry,” Emerson said sheepishly, bringing me back out of my head and into the room. “Still trying to keep my emotions in check.”

“It gets easier,” I murmured and sat down heavily in the chair I'd vacated, leaving Novalie to comfort Em further. “I'm sorry I left. I needed to clear my head and I wasn’t sure how much you both knew.” Had to get away from this place and the lies that filled every dark corner.

Novalie looked up, a frown pulling at her mouth. “I get why you left, now that you’ve bothered to explain it,” she said, the bite in her voice softened by the worry in her eyes. “I would have, too. I'm just pissed you didn't bring us with you.”

I swallowed, her words making my skin feel tight as I looked away and up at the high ceiling of her room. As a vampire, deciphering my feelings rather than letting impulses dictate my reactions was tough, but even I could recognize the mix of emotions now: surprise and gratitude. “I promise I won't leave you behind again.”

Emerson grinned from her place on the bed next to Novalie, her dark skin glowing with some kind of inner light borne of confidence. “We know.”

I'd only been gone for a couple of months, and yet Ashvale already felt alien to me when I’d walked through its gates. Its familiarity was strange, like the mould was the same but I no longer fit. Classes still went on as usual, living vampires still milled about the halls, but Elowen was nowhere to be found. Instead, Adrian had appointed some other, relatively young, undead vampire to run the castle. I hadn't recognised her, and she hadn't tried to stop me from entering, so really all we could hope for was that she didn't have the same penchant for murder that Elowen did.

Being back here was odd in the obvious absences, too. Hayes was like an open wound at my side, festering, and it seemed like I could step into the library and find Rowan among the stacks at any moment. I had tried not to think about them, and about Elowen, while I'd been away. Had used the blood as a distraction. But there was only so much avoidance I could really manage. It was time to face the music—or, more accurately, the screams.

“How has everything been here since...”

Emerson glanced at Novalie before deciding to answer me. “Fine. Business as usual.”

“Takes more than a few murders to worry this lot,” Novalie said, rolling her eyes and I nodded absently, wondering if my room was still how I'd left it, whether the sheets would still smell like Hayes.

“And the ball? Did you receive any invitations?” I hadn't. Elowen had made herself very clear on where she stood in terms of our familial bonds. I was a disappointment to her, which was fair enough considering what a colossal disappointment she'd been to me. From what I'd understood, it was rare for other houses to offer a claiming to someone not of the bloodline, so neither Emerson nor I would have been expecting someone to reach out, but Novalie knew who her family was. And yet, her face dropped when I mentioned the debut ball and its aftermath.

She brushed her blunt, dark hair out of her face and shook her head, silent.

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