his lifeless body, limp in the hands of his lover. I stumble forward, falling quickly, but I am caught by Jasik, who wraps me in his arms. He holds me closely, his gaze assessing every inch of my body for imperfections, for signs the spell did not heal me.
“It worked,” I whisper, and he pulls me into his arms.
All at once, his tension releases, and he nearly falls weak under my grasp. I never realized how much my situation affected him. Like the other hunters, Jasik is good at hiding his emotions if he chooses to. I guess he didn’t want me to know how much it pained him to see me slowly lose my mind at the hands of black magic.
“Holland,” I whisper into the crevice of Jasik’s neck. I do not hide the pain in my voice. I am terrified to look away, but I cannot simply ignore my dying friend. I cannot just pretend Holland isn’t battling for his life only a few feet away from where I sit now.
“He wanted this,” Jasik says as he pulls away from me. Again, he carefully assesses my reaction. What is he searching for?
I frown. “What do you mean? He wanted what?”
Not bothering to wait for a response, I tear my vision from Jasik to look at Holland, who still has not moved.
Jeremiah is shaking, teetering back and forth as a frail, dying Holland lies still in his lap. Jeremiah says Holland’s name over and over again, begging him to wake up so he can heal him.
I understand his predicament. If Holland is not conscious when Jeremiah heals him, he will become a vampire. If Holland is both conscious and well enough to simply use the benefits of vampire blood, he will be healed and wake again as a witch. The timing must be perfect, and from the look of things, Holland might already be too far gone.
Jeremiah lays Holland’s motionless body on the ground, straightening him quickly, and he begins chest compressions. He is muttering to himself about how Holland needs to be awake, his heart must be beating before he can drink vampire blood. I close my eyes, tears streaming down my face as I replay my own transition.
No one really knows how it works—how one becomes a vampire. No one really knows how some mortals are born witches and some are born humans. It just happens. For witches, there are bloodlines. Something makes us…different. You can’t simply become a witch. You are either born one or you are not. You either can access magic or you cannot. It is that simple.
Vampirism is never simple. These moments are crucial. One minuscule mistake means the difference between mortality and immortality. Giving Holland blood at the very second his heart stops beating means he will awaken as a vampire. He will have died with vampire blood in his system. That is enough to change him.
At the same time, he doesn’t have to die. At least, not like this. I remember my transition so vividly, it feels like only days have passed, not months. I was bled out by a rogue vampire and on the brink of death when Jasik saved me. By drinking from him, a vampire’s blood consumed my system, overpowering my mortal blood and replacing it with…something else. With some strange mixture of both species. At some point, my heart must have stopped. I died as a witch, and I was reborn a hybrid.
I watch as the world falls silent. Jeremiah ceases chest compressions, and everyone freezes in place. Time slows, and we all listen. The weak, sputtering beats of a dying heart ring through the air, swirling in my mind.
Holland is alive.
Jeremiah moves quickly, understanding this is his only chance to heal him—hopefully without risking the change. He holds his bleeding wrist to Holland’s mouth, but the blood simply fills the gape and splashes down his chin. Holland is not swallowing, because the dead cannot drink.
I scream an ear-piercing, heart-stopping bellow, and I fall to my knees. Jasik holds on to me, keeping me away so Jeremiah can finish his part of the ritual. I understand why the others did not clue me into these parts. If I would have known the cost would be Will or Holland, I never would have allowed us to go through with it. I would have accepted my fate and lived out the rest of my days in ignorant bliss.
Jasik soothes me as I crumble against him, watching as Jeremiah desperately