And Jez's mind was thrown into chaos.
With just those words she was suddenly not in the forest anymore. She was falling into nothingness, whirling and spinning, with nothing to grab hold of. She saw pictures in bright, disjointed flashes. Nothing made sense; she was plunging in darkness with scenes unreeling before her helpless eyes.
"Do it quickly," somebody whispered. A flash and Jez saw who: a woman with dark red hair and delicate, bony shoulders. She had a face like a medieval princess. "I won't fight you," the woman said. "Kill me. But let my daughter live."
Mother . . .
These were her memories.
She wanted to see more of her mother-she didn't have any conscious memory of the woman who'd given birth to her. But instead there was another flash. A little girl was huddled in a corner, shaking. The child had flame-bright hair and eyes that were neither silver nor blue. And she was so frightened ...
Another flash. A tall man running to the child. Turning around, standing in front of her. "Leave her alone! It's not her fault. She doesn't have to die!"
Daddy.
Her parents, who'd been killed when she was four. Executed by vampire hunters. . . .
Another flash and she saw fighting. Blood. Dark figures struggling with her mother and father. And screaming that wouldn't quite resolve into words.
And then one of the dark figures picked up the little girl in the corner and held her up high . . . and Jez saw that he had fangs. He wasn't a vampire hunter; he was a vampire.
And the little girl, whose mouth was open in a wail, had none.
All at once, Jez could understand the screaming.
"Kill her! Kill the human! Kill the freak!"
They were screaming it about her.