Page 3 of Marked Resistance

Forty-eight hours to decompress after fighting for your life, and yet somehow, the powers that be considered this amount of time generous. It’s amazing we all haven’t gone insane like Letos. At least they live before they die. The rest of us are one trip wire away from oblivion.

I had approximately thirty-eight hours left. I was grateful the farm was a straight shot south from Kepjess, and I didn’t have to make any detours. Tucked away in the deepest part of the woods, it would be hard to locate, especially to those unaware of its existence. Still, nothing is secure. It might have been hidden by trees, but Shaye controlled the territory.

I circled the perimeter, mindful of any extra traps, and kept an eye on the farmhouse and the warm glow from candles within for any signs of movement. Shaye’s numbers dwindled by the day, as we lost battle after battle to human and vampire clans alike, but rogues existed. They were the members of Shaye who no longer wanted to support a leader who only cared about himself. There were many who would leave the solidarity of their teams and clan members for escape.

The idea of hope beyond war.

We had blood banks to keep the warriors’ strength up, but the opportunity to hunt and feed from live humans called to the primal thirst within us all. The humans inside the farmhouse had done well to protect themselves, but nothing is secure.

Satisfied there would be no outside interference, I waited till a cloud passed in front of the moon to smother its light before I made my move. Draped in darkness, I approached the front of the house with speed and silence as my protectors and placed my hand on the knob. A gentle squeeze and turn and I would be inside.

“You know it’s locked, right?” A high-pitched, airy voice said from behind me. The tip of a sharp, pointed object pressed into my back. “Drop your bag and put your hands up.”

“How did you sneak up behind me?” I asked while doing as commanded.

“I had a good teacher.”

I wheeled around and used my momentum and raised my forearms to shield myself and dislodge the object from my back. I captured it by wrapping my arm around and locking it in the fold of my right elbow while delivering a palm strike with my left hand to the chest of my assailant.

“Ow,” the teenage girl cried as she fell on her ass.

“Your teacher wasn’t good enough.”

I examined the object in the fold of my elbow and smirked. “Spear? You think a spear is going to do anything against a vampire?”

“No,” she answered and rose to her feet, dusting herself off as she moved. “That arrow is going to do something against a vampire.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Arrow?”

A wooden arrow coated in bear’s blood protruded from the ground beside my left foot.

“What the hell?”

Boisterous laughter came from above me. I spun on my heels to see a large man on the roof of the farmhouse, easing himself to his feet, with a crossbow in his hands.

“Dad!” I shouted.

“Admit it,” the teenage voice behind me demanded. “We got you.”

I watched as my father approached the edge of the roof and descended a makeshift ladder. I nodded my head and rotated around. I opened my arms, and the teenager rushed inside, enveloping me in a warm, loving embrace.

“Welcome home, sis,” she bubbled.

“Sarah,” I scolded loud enough for only her to hear. “You can’t let yourself be used as bait. What were you thinking?”

I squeezed my little sister tighter, holding on as if there was no tomorrow.

“I can’t lose you too,” I whispered in her ear.

“You won’t,” dad called from over my shoulder, as a warm, firm hand massaged my back.

A tear escaped and I wiped it from my cheek as I pivoted to hug him.

“Dad,” I cried.

“Welcome home, Zee.”

Dad rubbed my back in circles as Sarah picked up my backpack. We went inside the house and he shut and locked the door as my eyes adjusted to the dim light.

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