Page 1 of Heir of Ashes

Chapter 1

I had just finished chopping onions for Paul when the sky broke. It wasn’t really a kaboom, more like the deep rumble of giant boulders tumbling down a mountainside. Like a giant avalanche. Hot on its heels followed the torrential downpour I’d been hearing about for the past few days. A sense of foreboding kept nagging at me, a feeling that I was missing something that I should know.

“Do you need anything else before I go?” I asked Paul as I hung my apron on a peg and tried to shake the sensation away. I could hear some of the crowd in the main room dispersing, going home to celebrate another weekend with family or friends, or just be alone after a fulfilling meal, mingling with the booming laughter of those who lingered for a drink and the latest gossip.

“That’ll be all,” Paul said, sending me a distracted smile over his shoulder.

I went into his office and grabbed my purse, a monstrous thing my friend Michelle had desperately tried to destroy, but inside were things I couldn’t afford to leave behind if I had to make a quick escape. Dr. Maxwell’s journal was also inside. It had helped me sort a lot of things out since I’d escaped, even if it hadn’t been the journal I wanted. I never went anywhere without it.

I slung the purse over my left shoulder and let it dangle on my right side—easier if I needed to run—then slipped out the back door of the diner.

The downpour was a solid sheet of water, blurring everything beyond a few feet. Already, water was gathering on the street, herding fallen brown leaves toward the drainage system.

It was unbelievably cold for October, but having only been there for three months, I wasn’t sure if this was normal for early autumn. I shivered and tucked my gloveless hands inside my pockets. I loved autumn—the burnished gold of the trees and the scurrying animals preparing for winter—but it seemed like here, in this small town, winter had already arrived.

Another flash of lightning lit up the sky to my left, followed immediately by a loud kaboom! and the bucket of giant rocks down the mountain. That sense of foreboding returned. I glanced around but found nothing out of place.

Paul’s Diner was only two blocks away from Marian’s Bed and Breakfast, and on a clear day, the lack of tall buildings in between would have given me a clear view of both. I hurried to the small B&B where I rented a room on the second floor, wondering if Rudolph (AKA Rudy), the local troublemaker, would be waiting for me by the door like he did most days, rain or shine. I suspected the only reason his flirtation hadn’t escalated to outright harassment was because I refused to date anyone. That, and the fact that most of the townsfolk had grown overprotective, believing I was hiding from an abusive husband.

As my long legs ate up the small distance, I thought about calling Michelle and inviting her over for something fun. I had missed out on so much during my teen years, locked away in a bedroom at the PSS headquarters. Back then, I had permission to watch the world through a TV screen and read about it in books when I wasn’t down in the lab. Sometimes, I was sent to the small library where I received a rudimentary education, but it was nothing near what I’d have learned had I gone to school.

Marian wasn’t at her desk in the foyer, but the low murmur of a talk show and the flicker of TV light came from her slightly ajar office door. I’d pay the rent in the morning; I knew how much she hated being interrupted during her shows. Plus, I was soaked to the bone, and my appearance would only prompther to offer me one of those awful teas she enjoyed so much. I took the back stairs in the corner and headed up to my room, the last one at the end of the corridor. I’d grab some dry clothes, then backtrack to clean the water trail I was leaving behind.

But fate had other plans.

The moment I unlocked the door to my room and reached for the switch on the wall to my right, I knew someone was inside—even before I spotted the silhouette sitting on my bed. Not a friendly someone either, considering his strange, inhuman aura. Panic reared its head so fast, it paralyzed me. I forgot all the carefully laid plans I had drilled into myself over and over for moments like this, even before I’d escaped the PSS headquarters. My mind … disconnected. For a long, terrifying moment, I couldn’t move. The icy grip of fear tightened around my heart, spreading to the pit of my stomach and up around my throat.

Then, he moved. But he didn’t attack; instead, he … flipped a page?

The casual way he sat on my bed, flipping through Michelle’s latest fashion magazine as if he hadn’t noticed me, shattered the paralyzing hold panic had woven around my limbs. My first instinct was to run. But as fast as I was, I wasn’t sure I could outrun a vampire.

Think, Roxanne, think. Identify the threat.I eyed his aura, red and a purple so dark it looked black at first sight. I struggled through the terrified haze to remember what I’d read in Dr. Maxwell’s journal. Red for a vampire who lived on blood, and only a made vampire lived solely on blood. I deduced the purple part indicated how long he’d been a vampire, assuming he’d once been human with a simple blue aura.

He was old. Very old. This was beyond overkill. It was like using a sledgehammer to crack a peanut. If I ran, he’d only chase me. Made vampires, especially old ones, shed their humanityonce they crossed over from life to undeath. Anyone I passed while running would only become another prey for him to play with, especially sweet, overprotective Marian.

Straightening, I tried to hide the fact that I was scared out of my mind, and did the last thing I wanted to do. I stepped into the room, flicked on the light, and closed the door behind me. I thought I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—respect maybe? But it could also have been irritation that I wasn’t giving him the thrill of a chase. Then again, he didn’t know I knew what he was, seeing as aura-reading wasn’t an ordinary ability, even among the preternaturals. Maybe I had an advantage after all.

I just had to figure out how to use it.

In a feeble attempt at bravery, I threw the key down on the dresser to my right, crossed my arms over my chest—no way near impressive with the way my hands shook—and leaned back on the door in a gesture that mimicked “I’m such a badass” but was really so I wouldn’t melt into a quivering pool of fearful goo.

A mocking, condescending smirk formed on his lips. For the first time, I noticed his unnatural features: corpse-like, he was thin, so thin he looked on the verge of emaciation. I’d been so focused on the twisted, dual-colored aura that I’d overlooked his strange features.

His bones—cheekbones, skull, arms, and ribs—were so pronounced that he seemed more like a skeleton draped in skin than anything else. And then he changed—right in front of my eyes.

Dark, lean, handsome. His hair was long, curling lazily at his shoulders. Green eyes, a thin nose that had been broken at some point during his human life, nice full lips. His once skeletal frame now looked athletic, and he was dressed all in black, from the tips of his polished boots to the V-neck of his knit shirt.

I gave myself a mental shake and for a moment, the handsome GQ vampire image stuck. Both images superimposed,causing a stabbing pain to spike above my eyes. Then the gaunt, emaciated figure returned. I wasn’t sure which was more unsettling: the stark reminder that I was dealing with something inhuman, or the disorienting allure of his polished facade.

“This room is already taken,” I said, proud that my voice didn’t crack.

His eyes glittered with cold amusement, sending a shiver through my body. And then … he laughed. A deep, resonant, and disturbingly sexy laugh.

Oh shit, I amused him. I was prey, entertaining the predator. I had to get away from him, put plenty of distance between us. But I had to distract him, incapacitate him, and prevent him from finding me again. Maybe strike him hard enough to render him unconscious … I just needed to get closer. In hindsight, it was a foolish, naïve plan.

He tilted his head to the side in an unnatural gesture that caused my heart to stutter. He was so far from human, a tiny, frightened voice squealed inside my head. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, an expression of bliss crossing his face. “Smart enough to be afraid,” he said, his eyes tracing a slow, burning path down my body. It was like being bitten by fire ants. “Yet you are still standing.” He tilted his head to the other side, studying me with reptilian curiosity.

My heart skipped another beat, then took off like a runaway train. “If I bolt, you’ll only think I’m game—which I assure you I am not.” I shrugged, a jerky move that belied my tone. Then I added in a shakier voice, “I’m already amusing you and I’m just standing here.”

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