Page 1 of Crimson Devotion
ONE
Faith
Apiercing scream reaches my ears, only fueling the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The moment I pull the metal stake out of the vampire’s heart, thick, almost black blood splashes my face, coating me in the disgusting liquid. The vampire bares its sharp teeth, eyes turning pitch black. If it could, it would bite me, but not even a second later, it falls down on the cobblestone, limp and dead.
I blow away the fallen strand of my hair, turning around to survey the scene. The night is dark, the moon at its peak up in the sky. Stars twinkle, almost as if they’re smiling down at me.
My breathing is labored, and I take a moment to regain my composure. The used stake is in my hand, and I grip it tightly, using it to ground myself. Although there are at least ten dead vampires here, it’s still not over, and my senses are as sharp as ever.
It won’t be over until I find her.
“You good, Faith?”
The voice of my superior, Stephanie, comes through the small earpiece. Worry laces her tongue, though she tries to play it off. She loves that she’s well-respected and highly feared at the agency, and she won’t risk her reputation taking a hit by showing a little concern.
“Perfect, Steph.’’ I wipe the blood off my cheek with the back of my palm. “Around ten are dead.’’
“Still nothing about the one you’re looking for?”
“No,’’ I sigh. “I don’t know where else to look. There has to be a vampire who’s at least heard of her, if they don’t know her personally.’’
The vampire I’m looking for is the one who killed my parents. She drank all their blood, then left them in the living room, in a sitting position, with their eyes closed, like a fucking psychopath. All the evidence I have of her coming there is a small gold bracelet.
Steph recognized the bracelet immediately.
There are seven of them, for the seven oldest vampires to have ever roamed the Earth. Everything we know about them comes from tales as old as time — as old as them. They’re legends in their world, the untouchable — unapproachable.
I don’t know their names, who they are, what they look like, or where they are. But I know that one of the seven has killed my parents. We have a couple of witches on our team, and one of them, Octavia, was able to tell that a spell was put on the bracelet.
The spell that’s as old as the vampire herself, too strong for Octavia to break. It’s a protective spell, shielding the vampire woman from the sun, and it makes her wound heal quicker. Now without it, she’s confined to the moon.
And I’ve spent the past two years roaming the UnitedStates, killing vampires left and right, seeking her out. Not a single one knew who she was. Of course, they’d heard of the sacred seven, but I don’t even have her name, let alone anything else.
I step around the dead bodies of the vampires, ensuring they’re all dead. When a vampire is killed, their skin tone turns an ashy grey, and their eyes start bleeding out some black mass. Not something I want to ever touch; it looks disgusting. By morning, they’ll all turn to stone, and the cleanup crew will handle the mess.
Abruptly, I stop. The small branch snaps beneath my boots, and my eyes narrow a fraction. Immediately, I scan the area, holding the stake in my hand, holding on to it for dear life.
The vampires I’ve killed alone are the babies. They were created not too long ago, and they’re still sloppy, getting adjusted to the new life. They’re bloodthirsty and cannot see reason. Which is why it’s easy to overpower them. In theory, they’re way stronger than me, a mere human, but because they don’t know the power they wield, nor how to control it, it can easily be taken as an advantage.
Something in the air shifts. Despite having killed ten vampires within the past hour, I’m no longer the one with power here. My heart starts beating rapidly, and for the first time since I became a vampire hunter, I’m scared.
I’m no longer alone.
And the depths of the forest around me give me no way out. Swallowing thickly, I turn around. I’m met with nothing but eerie silence, and even the crickets can no longer be heard. My breathing is the only thing I can hear, and soon enough, the sound of my heartbeat is loud enough to create a ringing noise in my ears.
“Who’s there?” I yell out, demanding the person to reveal themselves.
The wind blows, the fallen leaves on the ground moving with the force. This chilly October night causes the smallest hairs on my neck to stand up straight, and I’m tempted to make a run for it.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I see someone approaching from the deeper parts of the forest. Immediately, I turn with my stake ready to attack. I’m in my battle position, trying not to let the sudden rise of fear consume me.
A figure starts approaching me from the dark. They’re hidden by the shadows, but even from the distance, I can tell they’re extremely tall. They’re walking with confidence, with a purpose, their footsteps light on the muddy ground, not a sound to be heard.
They come to a stop a couple of feet away from me, their face now clear for me to see.
It’s a man. Long black hair falls down his waist. It’s pin straight, shining under the moonlight. Barefoot, he’s wearing a pair of black dress pants and a silk robe that’s half undone, revealing his toned, pale chest.
But that’s when I take a better look at him, and my blood runs cold, face draining of all color.
