clustered in three hand-written pages.
“‘The monsters stare at me, and I meet their stares with a defiant one of my own,’” he read, his smoky voice curling around me. “‘I refuse to let them drag me beneath the bed, I refuse to let them break me. You see, I might be the only one who knows the truth about the four of them, about how they hide their pain beneath hard masks. These monsters? They’re broken. They’re…’” Elias trailed off, his eyebrows scrunching together, as he read more of my story silently.
After a moment, he scoffed, purposefully dangling the notebook paper in front of my face before splitting it cleanly in two.
“You’re wrong,” Elias said, taking a step closer until he towered over me. Almost as if he couldn’t help himself, he brushed a strand of my pale white hair behind my ear. “Not all monsters have a reason for being the way they are. Some are just…irrevocably damaged. There’s no use trying to explain why they act the way they do.” My entire body tensed as he leaned forward, maintaining eye contact the entire time. “And this monster right here?” He pounded his chest. “He just doesn’t like looking at a freak like you.”
I tug myself out of the memory as I slide into the foyer, glancing in both directions cautiously. The last thing I want to walk in on is my nana have another fucking orgy. Gah.
“Peony!” As if my thoughts conjured her, Nana appears around the corner, her violet hair cascading around her in loose, natural curls. She wears a floral-printed gown that cinches around her waist before protruding outwards. Dangling earrings and numerous bracelets complete the hippy look. “Are you okay? What took you so long to get home? Why didn’t you respond to my texts?”
Brows furrowing, I remove my phone and scroll through the messages. Sure enough, intermixed with the missed calls from Mom are numerous texts and calls from Nana—and even some from Polo, Christian, and Gabriel as well.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, instantly on alert as I shove my phone back into my pocket. “Is it the coven?” Though I left my home on moderately bad terms, I still care a lot about the witches and warlocks who live there. But I feel like if something had transpired, I would’ve gotten a call from my ex. Or even his douchebag older brother, Ryan, who is half in love with me. Mom wants me to marry that fucker…but that’s a story for another time.
“There was an attack,” Nana confesses, just as Polo, Christian, and Gabriel enter from the opposite wing of the house. All of them look relieved to see me, even that asshole Gabriel.
“An attack?” My heart thunders as I once more remove my phone and stare at the calls from my mom. Is that what she called me about? Were we under attack? “Witch hunters?”
Nana shakes her head quickly before capturing my hands in both of hers and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not the coven, sweetheart. It was a town a few hours from here. A Blood attacked a witch this morning.”
“A Blood?” I gasp, widening my eyes in abject horror. Bloods? They’re dangerous motherfuckers who dabble in the dark arts. They get their power from human—and witch—sacrifices, as well as blood consumption. It’s where the mythology of vampires stems from. According to lore, once a witch or warlock partakes in the ritual, they’re never able to go back. They’ll constantly crave blood, both from unsuspecting humans and witches and warlocks. The power that flows through them is something dark, something other, like a malevolent entity that you can’t necessarily see but know exists.
Bloods also are immortal.
Sure, they can be killed just like anybody can, but they won’t die of natural causes. They don’t get sick, they don’t wither away with time, they don’t grow old. They just remain…stuck, forever trapped in a body consumed by bloodlust.
“I thought…” I swallow around the golf ball sized lump in my throat. “I thought the witch’s council had taken care of that problem.”
“There’s always going to be bad men and women who crave more,” Polo speaks for the first time, voice grim. “Some people can’t be happy with the hand they were dealt.”
Gabriel grunts in agreement, but Christian takes a step closer.
“But stay vigilant, Peony. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we’d be devastated if anything happened to you.” He glances at Nana, who grips my