salute. He carries the same menacing aura throbbing around Rafe.
A numbness creeps into my brain as I stand transfixed in a black well of horror. None of this is natural. Some inner instinct screams inside me to run. This isn’t right.
“What…what are they? What are you?” I stammer. Backing up, my spine meets a hard chest. Jerking around, I find Rafe behind me. Scampering into the center of the room, I keep distance between us as he bars my way.
“Samantha,” Rafe says my name as if enjoying the sound of it on his tongue. Hand outstretched in yearning, he silently bids me to take it.
The thought of touching him now makes my skin crawl. “Keep away from me.”
Broad shoulders slumping, the shimmer in his blue, green eyes dull with resignation. “These are my creations. Created by my touch. Once as mortal as you now, they belong to me.” With a wave of Rafe’s hand, they begin to dance. A deathly waltz. Puppets on his string, their eyes vacant of life, as they move seamlessly through the steps. “I want you to join us.”
This isn’t real. It can’t be real. A bad dream. It all must be a nightmare. My body starts to shake, the tremors quaking through me making my every muscle twitch and jerk. “J...join you?”
“As my bride.” His voice is threaded with longing.
My stomach rocks back and forth with nausea and terror. “You want to make me into one of those things?”
Rafe’s handsome expression is grave. “They’re reanimated by my power but not truly alive. No one to date has retained their will or spark but you…I think you’re the one.”
My head moves from side to side in building denial. No. No. The paralyzing fear that’s enveloped me snaps, sending my feet moving. Without a backward glance, I take off as if the Devil himself is at my heels, and maybe he is.
“Grab her,” Micah shouts.
Pushing past the dancing corpses, they’re skin is chilled and smooth to the touch. It only serves to send my mind over the edge of hysteria. I won’t be one of them. Never. Never.
“Samantha, come back!”
Rafe’s bellow chases me through the room to the French doors, my bag slapping into my hip where it hangs off my shoulder. It echoes after me as I hit the door and thrust it open into the darkened garden. The biting winter air engulfs me, but I barely feel it, my coat forgotten. Dashing over the grass, I spy another metal gate open and dash for freedom. Legs aching, heart threatening to burst through my chest, I run and run and run through the narrow roads, until I find myself near the Arc de Triomphe. I’m blinded to the people wandering the boulevards. Panic rides me to the verge of insanity. Tears roll down my face to drip down my chin.
Arms waving wildly, I run headlong into the traffic. Horns blare loudly. Headlights swerve as vehicles barely miss me. When I see a taxi, I scramble into the rear, rattling off the name of my hotel, choking on a sob through ragged breaths.
The driver flicks me a worried look in the rear-view mirror, setting the car in motion.
Rafe is a monster.
Huddled in the corner, my cheek pressed against the cold glass of the window, I stare sightlessly out into the dark. Rafe standing among his creatures is blazoned into my memory. His eyes ablaze and his expression fierce. The dead had danced for him. Bowed for him. Marionettes on his invisible string. Arms wrapped around myself, I rub, trying to rid myself of the ice his touch has left on my skin.
I’m safe. I’m safe. The words play on repeat in my head but give me no comfort. I won’t be out of danger until I pack my things and fly home across the ocean as soon as humanly possible.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Staring at the ceiling, I listen to the quiet voices of the hospital staff outside my door. I should be sleeping, but the pain tonight is too great. My parents have come and gone. Their fake cheerful smiles can’t hide the hopelessness in their eyes. I’m beyond the false hope the doctors promise now.
I’m lost and alone. Beyond the help of modern medicine and everyone knows it. The rare blood disease the doctors can’t explain has ravaged my body and taken its toll. Sucked me dry of my youth, strength, and vitality. Slowly but surely, it’s taken pieces of me, bit by bit.