it wasn’t the one I normally had. The new memory was blurred and unfocused, replaced by a new scene that I didn’t recall. Winchester and Sig were still there, but instead of a happy homecoming, we all stood outside in the firing range, staring at living targets tied to the trees behind our house. A man and his son screamed as Winchester fired her gun, missing one while hitting another who pleaded for mercy. I was barely seventeen years old, and the memory of the event suddenly assaulted me, and I stumbled backward as more memories began to flood my mind; terrible, horrifying memories.
Another shot rang out, the sound echoing through the woods, and my attention focused back to Sig, who smiled, having shot the target dead-on without even looking. Tears pricked my eyes, my throat closed, and my chest tightened. How could I have forgotten that this had happened? How could I have blocked this from my memories? Stunned, I watched the execution unfold as silver filled the target’s eyes and dripped down his face.
“Your turn, Remington,” Winchester announced sternly. “Relax your shoulders, stand straight, and don’t hold back. He’s a Van Helsing.”
I swallowed bile, suddenly transported as a passenger into my seventeen-year-old body to relive the memory as if it were happening for the first time, unable to do anything but watch the events unfold. I lifted my bow with intent, yet I’d purposely missed my target, something I had never done. Sig chuckled, turning his sapphire eyes to Winchester, who exhaled, sliding her attention from the target to me.
“You have to learn to kill, Remington,” she stated, sliding closer to me. Her hand lifted, cradling my cheek. “Mother will punish you if you cannot learn to murder her enemies. We all have a part to play in her revenge. You are the greatest piece on her board. We will try again tomorrow, and you will kill the Van Helsing. Do you understand the importance of this lesson?”
“I don’t want to kill people,” I whispered softly, turning my stare to the teenage boy who was barely older than I was. “I just want to make weapons.”
Winchester sighed, her hand dropping away from my face while she sucked her lip between her teeth and shook her head. “It’s what we do. It isn’t easy, but you’ll understand the importance of it one day soon.”
Silently, I watched my brother and sister undo the body of the dead male. He’d slighted my mother somehow, and in return, she’d ordered us to kill him and his son. Winchester turned, studying me carefully. The boy continued to sob with fear, and my heart clenched for him.
“Do not speak to him, Remington. Once you know them, it is much harder to murder them,” she warned, and together Winchester and Sig left the clearing, leaving me alone with the boy.
“Please,” he begged, his arm bleeding profusely from where the silver arrows had pinned him to the tree. “I just want to leave.”
I chewed my lip and silently turned my attention back to picking up the arrows. Placing my bow into the pack, I listened as the boy continually pleaded and begged for mercy. Finishing up, I turned to look at him as he watched me with azure blue eyes.
“You don’t want to kill me, do you?” he asked softly.
“No,” I whispered in a small voice. The boy smiled, and I sucked my lip between my teeth. “You want to kill us, though. So why shouldn’t I kill you first?” I crossed my skinny arms over my chest, watching him furrowing his brow.
“It is a legend they tell us from the cradle. It says one Silversmith left alive can kill every alpha and erase immortals from the world.”
“Why would we do that? That would be a horrid thing to do,” I stated, dropping my arms, looking around the woods guiltily.
“You could prove that you’re not evil.”
“How?” I asked, stepping closer.
“Release me. Let me go.”
I shook my head, turning to look around again while I spun in a circle. My heart hammered against my ribcage, while I moved a little closer to him. He smiled reassuringly, his eyes studying my face. He was one of the first boys I’d seen up this close, other than my brothers. It had made me feel weird at first, and then warmth spread through me, which had made Sig laugh. He’d constantly teased about my red cheeks and gaudy hair, making me ugly. Dick.
“You’re very pretty, Remington. Is that your name?”